The Rudolf Steiner Archive

[ 1 ] The creator of the “Philosophy of the Unconscious”, Eduard von Hartmann, died on June 6, 1906. The world view that emerged in this work must arouse the warm interest of anyone who is interested in the intellectual currents of our age. And the creation of Eduard von Hartmann is one of those that are born entirely out of the character of the soul life of the last third of the nineteenth century. And more than from any other achievement of the immediate past, important directions of this soul life will be able to be derived from Eduard von Hartmann in the future. For he has followed up the aforementioned “Philosophy of the Unconscious”, which appeared as early as 1869, with numerous other works in which he has expressed his views on the most diverse major questions of humanity and also on many of the endeavors and intellectual currents of his era. None of these writings has achieved anywhere near the success of the “Philosophy of the Unconscious”. In a short time, it made Eduard von Hartmann a famous man. And not only within the German-speaking areas, but far beyond them. The work was translated into a number of languages.

[ 2 ] The significance of this success is all the more impressive when viewed in the context of the character of the time in which the book was published, and when one considers how much the world view represented in it was actually opposed to all the inclinations of Eduard von Hartmann's contemporaries. In it, he advocated a point of view from which insight could be gained into the spiritual foundations behind sensual reality. Hartmann sought to explore and reveal this spiritual reality in a truly bold manner. And his contemporaries in the broadest circles were tired and even weary of such research. This was the case with both the learned and the unlearned. In many cases, people had lost all understanding of philosophical thought. The unlearned had realized that none of the great hopes that had been aroused by the brilliant philosophical views of the first half of the century had been fulfilled. Whether this realization was really justified or whether it was based on a delusion because one had never really come to a true understanding of the spirit of these world views is not to be further discussed here. To characterize Eduard von Hartmann's appearance, it is sufficient to consider that the belief had become general that there was actually nothing to this whole way of philosophizing; that it only led to idealistic airy creations that stand on no firm ground and therefore cannot help man when he seeks satisfaction for the great riddles of his existence. Only Schopenhauer's writings have had a certain effect since the 1850s, due to their easy comprehensibility and because they spoke with warmth about important, immediate questions of humanity in a way that was particularly contemporary at that time. It was precisely the retreat of idealistic confidence and spiritualized hope for life that permeated the creations of Fichte, Schelling and Hegel that led to Schopenhauer, the “philosopher of pessimism”, achieving a late impact. Many people despaired of any kind of spiritual uplift being able to bring true elevation in life. Therefore, they willingly submitted to the arguments of a philosopher who even tried to prove the insignificance of life in a very pleasing form. But by the time the “Philosophy of the Unconscious” appeared, the inclination towards Schopenhauer had already largely disappeared.

[ 3 ] But no particular inspiration could come from the official centers of work in the field of philosophy. For there, with the loss of understanding for the previous philosophers, a certain perplexity had set in. There was a lack of all mental acuity, indeed of all courage, to really face the great world problems. They labored endlessly to explore how far human cognitive powers could actually go, and in doing so, they never got to the point of seriously recognizing anything, because they were constantly asking the same question over and over again: whether it was even possible to recognize anything at all. Kant's ideas were endlessly raked over in order to “orient oneself by them”. Anyone who has looked into the whole business can understand that this official philosophy could not have any effect on wider circles. Hermann Lotze had indeed attempted to describe a large, comprehensive body of ideas in his “Mikrokosmos” (1856-1864). But he could not succeed in conquering the field against a spiritual power that was then trying to take over the lost posts of philosophy everywhere. Lotze's approach was too diffuse, too much like a feuilleton. Gustav Theodor Fechner had also made many attempts to recognize the spiritual connections of the world. In 1851, he published “Zend-Avesta, or on the Nature of Heaven and the Hereafter”, in 1864 “On the Physical and Philosophical Theory of Atoms”, and in 1861 “On the Question of the Soul, a Journey through the Visible World to Find the Invisible”. At the time, these writings also had no profound effect. And that is understandable, because they came at a time when the natural sciences had taken a significant upswing. In them, people believed they could find the only sure ground of “facts” that could be trusted. And Fechner's way of looking at things was not such that the powerful advance from that side could have been repulsed by it. Due to a peculiar chain of circumstances, Fechner's achievements have only found a few supporters in our time. And this 'fact' shows the decreasing influence of scientific materialism today. In the last half of the nineteenth century, it had indeed earned real merits in the advancement of the human spirit. (Compare what was said about this in the previous article: “Haeckel, The World's Mysteries and Theosophy.”) And Gustav Theodor Fechner's way of philosophizing certainly offers some beautiful points of view and some quite fruitful suggestions. But in the main it builds a fantastic edifice of ideas on the basis of rather arbitrary analogies. And anyone who today believes that Fechner's revival can overcome the decaying materialism has neither gained the right relationship to natural science nor to true spiritual research, which is so urgently needed at present.

[ 4 ] Hartmann's appearance therefore fell in a time that was averse to all philosophizing and had turned its interest entirely to natural science. From this, people sought to construct a world view that, given the circumstances, had to be quite materialistic. Matter and its forces were to be the only reality, and all spiritual phenomena were to be nothing more than an expression of material effects. Those who thought differently were simply assumed by large sections of society to have not yet overcome their old prejudices and to have not yet arrived at the “only reasonable” philosophy of reality.

[ 5 ] And into this fell a phenomenon like the “philosophy of the unconscious”. Eduard von Hartmann took a challenging position towards natural science. He did not ignore the facts of natural science. Rather, he showed his full acquaintance with them everywhere. Indeed, it was precisely by making a particular use of facts from the field of natural science that he sought to prove that the spirit rules behind all sensory phenomena. The results that he arrived at through his purely speculative thinking are indeed very different from the spiritual facts that are reached by the actual spiritual research given in occultism. But in an age that was very much inclined towards a materialistic attitude, they were nevertheless numerous and ingenious demonstrations in favor of a world view that takes the spiritual into account. How many people had believed that they had clearly proven that natural science had forever “driven out the spirit”. And now someone dared to prove the “spirit” as real, precisely on the basis of what natural science itself teaches in many cases.

[ 6 ] The manner in which Hartmann has attempted this can only be indicated here in a few lines. Only a few of the many facts Hartmann has used may be mentioned here. For example, consider the so-called reflex movements of animals and of man. The eye closes when it is confronted with an impression that threatens it. Rational, conscious thought does not have time to become active. We are not dealing here with a process that is guided by the consciousness of the animal or human being. Nevertheless, it proceeds in such a way that reason is in it, and if conscious reason had to organize a similar process, it could not turn out differently. It is guided by an unconscious reason that is active within it or behind it. But reason can only give rise to the phenomena of such a fact; it cannot carry out the process itself. A will is needed for this. But again, this will is not a power of the conscious soul. It is therefore present as an unconscious one. Thus, in addition to unconscious reason, there is also an unconscious will behind the sensory facts. Another fact is given by instinctive actions. One need only look at the rational way in which animals build their homes, how they carry out actions that bear the character of expediency. Eduard von Hartmann derives his view from the healing power of nature, indeed from the creative work of the artist and the genius in general, which flows from the source of unconsciousness. To characterize this view, it is permissible to quote the sentences that are found in my book Welt- und Lebensanschauungen im neunzehnten Jahrhundert (World and Life Views in the Nineteenth Century) (Volume II, pp. 164-165, Berlin, Siegfried Cronbach) for this purpose:

[ 7 ] "Man cannot - in the sense of Eduard von Hartmann - be content with the observation of facts. He must progress from facts to ideas. These ideas cannot be something that is arbitrarily added to the facts by thinking. There must be something corresponding to them in the things and events. These corresponding ideas cannot be conscious ideas, because such only come about through the material processes of the brain. Without a brain, there is no consciousness. We must therefore imagine that the conscious ideas of the human mind correspond to an unconscious ideal in reality. Like Hegel, Hartmann also regards the idea as the real thing in things, which exists in them beyond what is merely perceptible, accessible to sensory observation. However, the mere idea content of things could never bring about a real event in them. The idea of a sphere cannot push the idea of another sphere. The idea of a table cannot make an impression on the human eye either. A real event presupposes a real force. To gain an idea of such a force, Hartmann draws on Schopenhauer. In his own soul, man finds a force through which he gives reality to his own thoughts and decisions, the will. Just as the will expresses itself in the human soul, it presupposes the existence of the human organism. Through the organism, the will is a conscious one. If we want to think of a force in things, we can only imagine it as similar to the will, the only force that we know directly. But again, we must disregard consciousness. So, outside of us, there is an unconscious will in things, which gives ideas the possibility of becoming real. The content of ideas and will in the world, in their union, constitute the unconscious basis of the world. – Even though the world exhibits a thoroughly logical structure on account of its content of ideas, it owes its real existence to the illogical, irrational will. Its content is rational; that this content is a reality has its reason in the irrationality.»

[ 8 ] It is clear that Hartmann assumes a spiritual world as the basis of the one that reveals itself to man through his . external senses. This is what his view of the world has in common with occult knowledge. Only the way in which both arrive at this spiritual world is what distinguishes them. Occult knowledge shows that man does not need to stop at the outer senses in terms of his perceptive faculty. It says: There are dormant abilities in man; and if he develops these in the same way as he has developed his external senses up to now, then he will perceive the spiritual world directly, just as he perceives the ordinary sensual world with his eyes and ears. The philosophy of Eduard von Hartmann does not recognize such a development of man to a higher capacity for perception. For it, there is no perception other than that of the external senses. One can only combine the perceptions of these external senses, examine them with the intellect, dissect them, and reflect on their causes. Then one comes to realize that behind what one sees, hears, etc., there is something else that one does not perceive. This imperceptible spiritual reality is thus recognized through logical conclusions. It must remain a mere world of thought for man. — If occult knowledge advances on the basis of a higher human faculty of perception to a richly structured spiritual world, Hartmann's supersensible world of thought remains meager. It is composed only of the two elements, the unconscious will and the unconscious idea.

[ 9 ] If we realize this, it will be easy to see what is lacking in Eduard von Hartmann's view of the world to enable it to rise to the spiritual world. But such clarity will enable us to do justice to it within its limits. It is precisely because Hartmann does not go beyond sensory perception that he feels all the more compelled to look around him in this sensory world and to see exactly where it already requires thorough thinking to speak of a spiritual basis. This is Hartmann's strength in the face of scientific materialism. He can show how the conclusions of natural science are reached only by superficial observation of the facts. He can prove that the results of natural science itself urge us to seek spiritual causes in all phenomena. In this way he is able, for example, to give the materialistic natural scientists a picture of their own science which differs considerably from their own. This caused the materialistic-minded natural scientists to raise a vehement objection to the “philosophy of the unconscious”. They declared the creator of the same to be a dilettante in the field of natural science. With such a manner one usually has a very easy stand vis-à-vis a larger public. The public does not examine things closely. When the “experts”, who, according to the public, must know what they are talking about, say: “This philosophy is no good, because the philosopher does not understand the facts he is talking about”: the public will swear by such a statement. And the philosopher may then present the best reasons for his view: that does not help him at all.

[ 10 ] Hartmann recognized the futility of such a path. Therefore, he chose a much more clever one to refute the scientific materialists thoroughly. A path against which there was absolutely nothing to save the scientific superficiality. Allow me to present this path of Eduard von Hartmann's in such a way that I can reproduce what I have already said about it, namely in a lecture that I gave on February 20, 1893, at the Vienna Scientific Club and which was printed in the July 1893 issue of the Monatsblätter des wissenschaftlichen Klubs in Wien: “In one chapter of his book (the ‘Philosophy of the Unconscious’), Eduard von Hartmann attempted to deal with Darwinism from a philosophical perspective. He found that the prevailing view of the time could not withstand logical reasoning, and sought to deepen it. The result was that he was accused of dilettantism by natural scientists and condemned in the strongest possible terms. In numerous essays and writings, he was accused of lacking insight into scientific matters. Among the opposing writings was one by an unnamed author. The statements made in it were described by respected natural scientists as the best that could be said against Hartmann's views. The experts considered the philosopher to have been completely refuted. The famous zoologist Dr. Oskar Schmidt said that the work of the unknown author had “fully confirmed the conviction of all those who are not sworn to the unconscious that Darwinism – and Schmidt meant the view of it held by the natural scientists – is right”. And Ernst Haeckel, whom I also regard as the greatest German natural scientist of the present day, wrote: 'This excellent work says everything in essence that I myself could have said about the «philosophy of the unconscious ' — When a second edition of the work appeared later, the name of the author was on the title page: Eduard von Hartmann. The philosopher had wanted to show that it was not at all impossible for him to familiarize himself with the scientific way of thinking and to speak the language of natural scientists if he wanted to. Hartmann thus provided proof that it is not the philosophers who lack an understanding of natural science, but rather the representatives of the latter who lack insight into philosophy.” - That was indeed a harsh lesson that Eduard von Hartmann taught the materialistic natural scientists. Even if it cannot be said that the latter were driven to some thoroughness in relation to spiritual research by it: Hartmann's position towards them and probably also that of spiritual research in general has been put in a world-historically significant light by it.

[ 11 ] If the “philosophy of the unconscious” is thus vastly superior to materialistic natural science, then Eduard von Hartmann placed himself from the outset in an awkward position with regard to spiritual research, due to his epistemology, which, to a certain extent, follows Kantian lines. He characterized the common view of man as naïve realism. He said: “This common view sees real things in the perceptions of the senses. Now, however, it can easily be shown that this view is wrong. For the fact that man sees an object in a certain color, perceives it with a certain smell, etc., is due only to the fact that his eyes, his olfactory organ, etc., are built in a certain way. If he had other organs instead of eyes and olfactory organs, he would perceive something completely different. Thus, perceptions are not real things, but only phenomena that are caused by the sensory organs in their own way. The ordinary person who considers them real is therefore living in a delusion. Rather, one must assume that the true reality lies behind the perceptions of the senses as a cause. And it is precisely for this reason that Hartmann seeks to overcome the naive realism of the ordinary person. He seeks to fathom through thinking what lies behind the apparent true reality. In doing so, he admits in a certain limited sense that man can develop to a higher level of knowledge. He sees his own point of view as one that slumbers in every person, and to which the naive realist only does not rise.

[ 12 ] How close it would have been, now that Hartmann had already gone so far, to say to himself: Could one not rise to an even higher level of knowledge? Could there not be a higher capacity for knowledge, which would also make my point of view appear to be a delusion, just as the point of view of naive realism appears to me? Hartmann never wanted to draw this obvious conclusion. That is why occult knowledge has always remained completely incomprehensible to him. This was due to the limitations of his mind. He was simply unable to go beyond a certain point. He did, however, make every effort in a certain respect. When Sinnett's “Esoteric Teaching of Secret Buddhism” appeared in the 1880s, thus giving the theosophical trend of the times its first literary expression, Hartmann wrote a detailed essay on this book. Now, it can be said that in that Sinnett book, theosophy was presented in a much too dogmatic way to be of much help to a thorough thinker, and that the “secret Buddhism” contained too much stereotyped, even directly erroneous, which made access difficult; but one must nevertheless find that Hartmann fell victim to a certain type of his mind in this direction of research, as he also did with other phenomena of spiritual research. He had encapsulated himself at an early stage in the thought-forms he had once established, and thus lost any possibility of even understanding anything else. Therefore, for him, a relationship to other research was never possible other than a purely comparative one, in which he would simply compare every other thought with his own and then say: what agrees with me is right; what does not is wrong. In a certain sense, therefore, Eduard von Hartmann's critical attitude towards the achievements of others was such that in individual cases there was no need to wait to hear what he would say. Anyone who was familiar with his philosophy and then took up a different point of view could always know what Hartmann would say about the latter, even before he himself had spoken.

[ 13 ] Hartmann also dealt with minor contemporary phenomena of spiritual research, such as hypnotism and spiritualism, without arriving at anything other than a rather stereotyped registration in his thought forms. This is why many of Eduard von Hartmann's later books are far less inspiring than his first. Of course, he modified his original results in some points, and that is why it is wrong for the public to judge him mostly according to his first creation, the “Philosophy of the Unconscious”. He often complained bitterly about this one-sided assessment of his philosophy. But the reason for this is also that, with regard to his fundamental ideas, Hartmann has not provided anything in many of his later writings that any expert in his principles could not actually develop for themselves. There are few authors in relation to whom it can be said with as much justification as with Hartmann: in order to gain what they offer in their later works, one no longer actually needs them. A reasonably talented person can, for example, construct for himself the essentials of what is contained in the “Categories” or in the “History of Metaphysics” in the sense of Hartmann, if he knows and understands his previous writings.

[ 14 ] It is easy to misunderstand what constitutes Hartmann's pessimism. The fact that he was originally influenced by Schopenhauer's school of thought has given the “philosophy of the unconscious” a pessimistic slant. However, it should not be overlooked that Hegel and Schelling, with their by no means pessimistic way of thinking, also had an equally strong influence on Hartmann as Schopenhauer. It would go far beyond the scope of this article to discuss Hartmann's relationship to the three philosophers mentioned or to other thinkers. Therefore, without such an elaboration, Hartmann's relationship to pessimism will be briefly characterized.

[ 15 ] Since the “philosophy of the unconscious” sees the spirit of the world as composed of two elements, the unconscious will and the unconscious idea, it cannot regard the course of world development as entirely rational and good. For although the idea is rational and logical for it, the will is not. But the world can only have come into being through the will. It has already been said above that a force is necessary for real creation. The powerless idea can create nothing. Hartmann therefore comes to the conclusion that the world is there at all because of the irrational will, and the idea can do nothing but take possession of the will in order to annul creation again. The process of the world consists, then, in the idea feeling itself unsatisfied by the fact that it has been called into existence by the will; it thus feels creation as its suffering, and strives to free itself from this suffering. It is again permissible to quote a few sentences from my book “Welt- und Lebensanschauungen im neunzehnten Jahrhundert” (pp. 165f.) in this connection: “The reign of the irrational is expressed in the existence of pain, which torments all beings. Pain outweighs pleasure in the world. This fact, which can be explained philosophically from the illogical will element of existence, is sought by Eduard von Hartmann to be substantiated by careful consideration of the relationship between pleasure and pain in the world. Anyone who does not indulge in any illusions, but objectively considers the evils of the world, cannot come to any other conclusion than that pain is present to a far greater extent than pleasure. From this, however, it follows that non-existence is to be preferred to existence. But non-existence can only be achieved if the logical-rational idea destroys the will, existence. Hartmann therefore sees the world process as a gradual destruction of the irrational will by the rational world of ideas. The highest moral task of man should be to help overcome the will.” It is clear that the ‘philosophy of the unconscious’ is diametrically opposed to occult spiritual research. For the latter, in a nutshell, must see the world and thus also man in a developmental current that ultimately leads everything to the divine, that is, to the good original being.

[ 16 ] But in Hartmann's case, this comprehensive pessimism is combined with a strange subordinate optimism. For his pessimism is not intended to lead to a turning away from existence, but on the contrary, to a devoted participation in it. He believes that only this pessimism can lead to moral action.

[ 17 ] As long as man believes that pleasure and happiness can be attained, he will not - according to Eduard von Hartmann's assumption - give up the selfish pursuit of them. Only one thing can bring real healing from all egoism. That is the realization that all belief in pleasure and happiness is an illusion. If a person is clear about this, then he will give up all such striving. Now one could say, however, that under such conditions all existence is pointless; and the “philosophy of the unconscious” would therefore actually have to recommend to man the annihilation of his existence. Hartmann replies that absolutely nothing would be achieved if the individual wanted to extinguish his existence. For what ultimately suffers is not only the individual spirit, but the All-Spirit. If suffering is to cease, the existence of the All-Spirit itself must be extinguished. This cannot be achieved by the individual destroying himself, but rather by the individual placing his work in the service of the whole. All the work of humanity must work together to ultimately free the All-Spirit from its suffering. The whole development of civilization is nothing other than working towards this goal. The development of the world consists in the redemption of the Godhead from the suffering of existence through the work of humanity. The individual must renounce his own happiness and place all his efforts at the service of the redemption of the deity. It cannot be the task here to show how Hartmann, in a rather fantastic way, presupposes that humanity could be educated to this end, ultimately through a common decision, through a united striving to radically destroy existence and to redeem the deity.

[ 18 ] Even if one has to admit that in such extreme points of philosophical thought the “philosophy of the unconscious” loses itself in unfathomable depths, it cannot escape the discerning reader that Hartmann has made many beautiful statements in particular. One such must be seen in particular in the discussion of the various moral viewpoints in his “Phenomenology of the Moral Consciousness”. There he has listed all possible moral views of life, from crass egoism to religious selfless devotion to work in the service of humanity as a whole. And even though a touch of pessimism lies over all these statements, with the paradoxical goal of redeeming the world spirit from its suffering: anyone who is able to disregard this radical end point can still gain a great deal from Hartmann's individual works. The same can be said of the book: “The Religious Consciousness of Humanity in the Gradual Sequence of its Development”. Here Hartmann wants to show how, in the course of history, humanity gradually struggles through the various religious standpoints to the worship of that All-Spirit, as it is conceived of as “the Unconscious”. To him, all previous religions appear as a preliminary stage of the “religion of the spirit”. That the “spirit” lives in each individual, and that life must consist in the redemption of this suffering spirit: this is to be the content of such a future religion. Christianity, too, can only be a preliminary stage to this “religion of the spirit”. It gives itself over – Hartmann believes – to the illusion that the All-Spirit suffered in one person, the Son of God: but the sum of all persons must take the place of this one person. All must feel themselves to be suffering sons of the One Spirit, called to redemption. Hartmann is convinced that the scientific theology of the new age must lead to a “self-destruction of Christianity”. It must ultimately dissolve through the contradiction that arises from reflecting on the impossibility of the work of redemption being brought about by a single individual. If Hartmann's explanation once again reveals a complete misunderstanding of Christianity, the creator of the “Philosophy of the Unconscious” has nevertheless provided many important details in this area, and in this respect he is far superior to contemporary theologians and philosophers in terms of his acumen and independence of thought.

[ 19 ] It would be interesting to also explain how, despite the inadequacy of his basic principles, Hartmann also achieved much that was excellent in the individual in his “Aesthetics”. However, due to a lack of space, this must be left out of consideration here.

[ 20 ] Eduard von Hartmann offers much that is stimulating to anyone who studies him. And he cannot be without benefit to spiritual research. In him we have a personality who, on the one hand, shows an energetic struggle to free himself from the prejudices of the materialistic spirit of the age, but who, on the other hand, cannot rise to the realm of real spiritual insight. In his case, one can see how the way of thinking of the present takes away the freedom of the spirit to such real vision. — And there is one more thing that should not be overlooked about this personality. Hartmann not only dealt with the highest questions of life, but he also penetrated all the questions of the time: cultural questions, politics, social economics, legal questions, etc. And everywhere he proves himself to be a thinker who wants to remain firmly on the ground of reality, who does not want to lose himself in fantastic utopias and abstract future perspectives. Yes, his sense of reality in this respect is in a strange contrast to his radical, and really often bottomless, dreams in the highest questions and goals of humanity. His conservatism in politics and socialism sometimes has something philistine about it, but it is also very healthy. That is why he will also be valuable for the spiritual researcher in this respect. The latter has every reason to beware of fantasies and to remain firmly grounded in reality. Hartmann can provide an excellent example of this. Whether one wants to accept this or that from him is not so important; but it is important that one can always receive fruitful suggestions from him.

Today I would like to discuss certain research results that are suitable for understanding many a puzzling aspect of the time, because only by understanding it is it possible to act in such a way that our actions are integrated as part of all human activity in the evolution of the world. One must place human life in a period of time in a part of the great scope of life on earth.

Therefore, today I would like to discuss a development in the post-Atlantean period from a particular point of view. This winter in particular, many things have become clear to me, enabling me to say something important and characteristic about the time.

Yesterday it was shown how thinking has become unreal, no longer powerfully intervening in the present. Where does this come from? Because it is naturally necessary in the course of development. It is sometimes more important to do something right in a small circle than to give abstract thoughts and program points.

Let us consider the first post-Atlantean cultural period. Not even in the Middle Ages did people feel, think and want things as they do today. The state and mood of the soul change much more than one might think.

Let us now turn our spiritual gaze back to the primeval Indian period, which does not fall within the time when writing originated. Life was quite different then than it was later. From one point of view, you will already see how it was different from the other times. Today, a person grows old by turning 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 years old. In the case of a child in the first years of life, the expressions of the soul are still entirely physical. Up to the ages of 7, 14, 21, from child to youth to maiden, the phenomena are parallel to the processes in the body and soul. The education of the soul must go hand in hand with the processes in the body. From a certain age onwards, the human being becomes independent of the body – when they feel like an adult.

Today, it would be considered an imposition to read Schiller's “Tell” and Goethe's “Iphigenia” at the age of 35; one would have read them as a young man. Learning more at a later age is an imposition. Today, writers start at the age of 20.

The soul then becomes independent of the body. This was quite different in the ancient Indian cultural period. There, until the age of fifty, the human being remained dependent on the physical and felt physically as a developing being. The change of the body is therefore so important. In those days, for example, it was known that a fifty-year-old had gone through five to six decades of what the body itself could give - for example, growth. Up to the age of 35, forces are integrated, the physical body increases. The spiritual life is contained in this growth. And when these forces break away, then, in healthy physicality, one feels that all material creation is based on the Father-God. The paternal principle, which rules and surges in everything, is felt to arise from one's own nature, from one's own bodily nature. Then, at the age of 35, the descent begins again.

Today, people do not experience this. In those days, however, people felt that their strength was no longer rising from the paternal. They became aware, now in a subdued consciousness, that their strength was reaching a standstill, but then people felt connected to the spiritual environment, right up to heaven. What later came down as Christ revealed himself as a cosmic principle.

Then, after the middle of life, one became aware of the ossification, the sclerotization of the body. In the states of sleep, the human being perceived the spirit, that which later became the Holy Spirit. Through this, people were witnesses here in life to the Father, Son and Spirit principle.

In the age of ancient Persia, this consciousness had already receded, and was only tangible until the 40s, from the 42nd to the 48th year. The experience of the spirit principle had already become weaker, and the independence of the spirit was already less emphasized. But the social life was quite different. Young people looked up to the old with reverence because they knew that they had experienced the Father, the Son and the Spirit within themselves. They also understood death earlier. In the Egyptian period, this experience only extended into the thirties, from the 35th to the 42nd year. After that, man no longer came to an inner experience of dependence on the spirit. Therefore, there is no longer any understanding of the spirit in the Chaldean-Egyptian period. But there was still a sense of what later became of the spirit of the surging, weaving, oscillating Christ-life.

In the Greco-Latin cultural period, it lasted until the 28th to 35th year (747 BC-1413 AD). Then one could only speak of the spirit in the mysteries, because normally one no longer felt it; only the Christ principle was felt. But this cosmic Christ principle ceased, only the Father principle could be experienced. But the people of this epoch still experienced the soul-spiritual within themselves, only they no longer experienced the outer spiritual.

Then it goes back to the 34th, then to the 33rd year. Then the possibility of knowing anything other than the physical was cut off. Then the great and powerful event occurred - in the fourth post-Atlantic period - that in the body of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, who had previously been swaying up and down in the vicinity, that the Christ developed in the body of Jesus of Nazareth from the age of 30 to 33. Through this, a principle was gained for humanity that would otherwise have been lost. Mankind became ever younger, the Christ overcame death and introduced the son principle on Earth.

When one makes the discovery for the first time, how the year of the death of Christ coincides with the 33rd year of mankind, then one experiences a moment when one senses the very basis of the Mystery of Golgotha. That means an enormous amount. Christianity can only be deepened by deepening our understanding. We still know very little today, and it is becoming more and more important to know more and more about the mystery of Golgotha. All knowledge can only be a servant to help us grasp this mystery in the right way.

Then came our time, when a person is only capable of development up to the age of 27. Humanity is, in its declining age, 27 years old today. That is why spiritual science must appear. If we do not give our soul momentum, we will not get older than 27.

It took a great deal for me to bring this secret out of the underground. This immaturity - up to 27 - we therefore also find in older people - this immaturity continues to shine and have an effect. In Helsingfors, I have already described how the imperfect, the immature, manifests itself in abstract ideals, how youth speaks of this, which has all the characteristic features of immaturity. Woodrow Wilson's ideal of the freedom of nations is such an ideal. These are all beautiful ideas, but: Wilson writes a note that is intended to make peace, and leads his own country into war. You cannot rule the world with such ideals.

People lick their fingers when they have really nice ideas. But what good are they if they are not immersed in reality? - “The most capable should be in the right place.” - Such ideas, however beautiful they may be, are worth nothing if they are not immersed in reality. Eucken's philosophy is beautiful, but nowhere immersed in reality.

Today's man is only capable of development up to the age of 27. We must understand that in the future, the spiritual-seclely must be developed independently. In the sixth post-Atlantic period, man is only capable of development from the age of 14 to 21, then no longer. Then “dementia praecox” will occur, which is not pleasant. Only truth, which is immersed in reality, is suitable for life practice. How do people think today? They think in an almost unreal way. They fall in love with their concepts. Later they themselves will become rigid and will fight the spiritual terribly. In the past, there were councils as a spiritual remedy. Later, in the sixth post-Atlantic period, souls will also be cured by remedies. The “sound mind” that causes man to consist only of body will be instilled against the views of the spirit. Such a decline must come if today's humanity continues to sleep thoughtlessly. What this humanity needs are harsh truths; not just those in which one pleasantly indulges. Humanity needs to be helped. Humanity suffers from a fear of spiritual knowledge. Hence materialism, hence the helpless fear of spiritual science. For spiritual science leads you into responsibility for the spiritual development of humanity. Those who sleep through the times do not notice this. But this spiritual slumber weighs heavily on them. I will give you an example: an essay on the cultural-political movement in Austria in the 1890s – spirit in politics. The thoughts are clever, but not immersed in reality.

Without understanding today, one cannot act.

Second example: Russians are mystically inclined, they say today, and thus throw sand into their eyes out of inability. In truth, it is like this:

Mysticism – Middle Ages
Intellect – West
Russia – both together
(rather good = appropriately good
two = between – doubt)

One would like to have something other than tongue and words to indicate what time has so severely

Therefore, opposing forces are at work to extinguish the light of life in spiritual science. Contradictions such as the following are part of life today: mysticism is the highest knowledge – and: mysticism is foolish enthusiasm.

Spiritual science must speak the language of life, which is as deeply serious as life itself. It cannot be measured with the ordinary philistine language.

It is precisely because spiritual science is so intimately connected with the needs of the time, precisely for this reason, that now – when everything, I might say, is preparing itself for it, on the one hand, spiritual science is really beginning to be taken seriously here and there, where it can be taken seriously – that the opposing spiritual forces are setting about extinguishing the light of life of this spiritual science.

Do you see that it is necessary to apply completely new concepts and standards to cognition when approaching spiritual science from the usual, conventional cognition of today? People do not want to see this. And so this lamentable, infinitely foolish talk can arise, with all kinds of contradictions, which of course comes from spite, but not only from that, but above all from lack of understanding and from the will to lack of understanding. How can contradictions be pointed out in that which has emerged within spiritual science and its philosophical basis? Of course, anyone who does not take the standpoint of spiritual science but judges in a materialistic way can find such contradictions. But anyone who knows that spiritual science must be immersed in life must consider this immersion in life.

Take a specific case! Suppose someone says: Mysticism is the stream of knowledge through which a person attempts to unite his own inner being with the spiritual that permeates and interweaves the world. Now take my Philosophy of Freedom or the writing Truth and Science, where the proof is to be provided that through purified thinking man enters into connection with the web of the world; then I must say: these books in particular correspond completely to the definition of true mysticism. I must therefore say: I claim the expression “true mysticism” for my world view. Therefore, when I want to point out today's mysticism, am I not allowed to point out all the confused talk, [am I not allowed to] denounce this nonsense as mysticism? I must indeed denounce it, must reject it, must therefore have the pure concept of mysticism in mind on the one hand, on the other hand, because I have life in mind, I must have the nonsense in mind as well. If someone comes along who looks at one side and says: “There he says that mysticism is the ideal of knowledge”; and on the other side he says: “Mysticism is based on all kinds of ecstasy” – contradiction!

Such contradictions are part of life, and anyone who walks with life can always find these contradictions. But one must first succumb to abstractions if one wants to present such contradictions at all.

Or take another thing, my dear friends! Today, of course, it is easy to say: I have presented the significance of Haeckelism for the scientific knowledge of the world. Yes, my dear friends, just take the following. Suppose someone describes Goethe's activity as a theater director; he takes into account nothing but what Goethe did as a theater director; but he points out that he was not a theater director like a Mr. So-and-so so, but [that he] was Goethe; that as a theater director, he carried out his duties in such a way that, in the background, he was always completely Goethe as a theater director; then he can certainly describe Goethe's activity as a theater director. Let us assume that someone who has shown in “Philosophy of Freedom” and “Truth and Science” how scientific materialism is rejected, who has shown how in everything matter as such rests on the spirit, may afterwards also show how the spirit reveals itself to matter, reveals itself in the phenomena that Haeckel described. For the one who wrote about Haeckel in 1899 and presented the justified, /gap in the transcript] who in 1894 established the refutation of materialism, for whom the representation means something quite different than for the one who did not have “Truth and Science”, “Philosophy of Freedom” but rather took Haeckel's own point of view.

Now, one can understand the matter and will say: Of course, anyone who can appreciate Goethe as a whole may also portray Goethe as a theater director. The one who is a Holzbock – a journalist is named just like that, excuse me! – can portray Goethe as a theater director as if he were portraying Mr. So-and-so, and he cannot have more spirit in the portrayal. But the one who, in the complete spirit of Goethe, portrays Goethe as a theater director, that means something completely different. And so my characterization of Haeckel is something completely different, after the two books mentioned above [gap in the transcript], and one could assume [that it is not a materialist who is describing, but someone who describes the spiritual reality everywhere. ]. Therefore, anyone who is malicious can depict the contradictions. Goethe as a playwright, Goethe as the author of Faust, Goethe as theater director! Someone may say: Now this person used to think that Goethe is the author of Faust, and now he has revealed himself: He believes that Goethe is just a theater director! — Brought to its logical effect, what the folly is about the representation of Haeckelism is no different than if someone speaks like this.

But it is necessary, my dear friends, for the truth to come to light, [that] one approaches spiritual science with the assumption that this spiritual science must speak a different language than abstract, rational and therefore materialistic science, [even] if it sometimes behaves in a spiritual or spiritualistic way. Today, one can be a follower of spiritualism and, precisely for that reason, be a blatant materialist in one's concepts, because, as a spiritualist, one is trying to have the spirit in front of oneself in the material phenomenon. However, one does not arrive at the truth if one does not decide to recognize how spiritual science must speak the language of life and must therefore be as versatile as life, and must therefore speak a different language than the one that has been spoken so far. For it would not be true, my dear friends, if I were to tell you that spiritual science must intervene so deeply in the impulses of humanity; it would not be true if I did not have to emphasize to you at the same time: spiritual science must speak a language in such a way that it cannot be approached and criticized in the ordinary philistine language; it must be misunderstood. But one must have this prerequisite that one must misunderstand it as a result.

Of course, in this respect, because all the floodgates have been opened to it, one can criticize spitefulness; because when someone speaks from life, they themselves open all the floodgates to allow criticism to approach. You can also do it like Goesch, who takes everything I have said against one or the other and leaves out what I have said for one or the other; then you can [gap in transcript].

What must develop within that school of thought through which anthroposophically oriented spiritual science flows is, above all, a real sense of truth. Above all, one must have a real sense of truth in relation to events; one must never allow it to be reduced to adjusting any event to one's subjective needs, but one must describe events according to their objectivity. If someone has as little sense of truth as the Imperial Court Councillor Professor Max Seiling, he can, for example, write the sentence that is true, like all the other sentences by Professor Max Seiling are true, namely just as philistine and untrue: Well, yes, Dr. Steiner joined the Theosophical Society in order to represent the truths or the insights or the assertions of the Theosophical Society.

Of course, [Seiling] knows very well that this is an objective untruth. For what was the matter? I started giving lectures in Berlin in 1900, 1901, based on what had emerged from my own research; those lectures were then printed in excerpt in the book “Mysticism in the Dawn of Modern Spiritual Life”. At that time I had read nothing at all of the literature that the English Theosophical Society had produced, and I may confess to you that this literature was absolutely far too amateurish for me — if I am to express my personal opinion. The matter was presented from the direct progress of my research. I had read nothing. What happened? It happened that these lectures, as they were available in print at the time, were translated into the “Theosophical Review” without my involvement; some of them were translated. As a result, I was invited to join the Theosophical Society. I never deigned to say anything other than what came from my own research.

I didn't go after Haeckel either. Why shouldn't I have written that, since I wasn't connected to the Theosophical Society [gap in the transcript]. If you want to cure your cabbage with something sensible, why shouldn't that be done! Why shouldn't those who believe in cabbage be brought to their senses?

I was in London. Mead, who was still an acquaintance of Blavatsky's and who contributed a great deal to Theosophical literature in a scholarly way, told me at the time: “This book ‘Mysticism in the Dawn of Modern Spiritual Life’ contains everything that is justified in literature; the rest is nothing!”

Why should I not have said to myself: Well then, so be it, let people accept it! — That they then became furious when they saw how things developed, and when they had taken the cabbage to that over-cabbage state with the Alcyones — that they then became furious and raving mad about the further assertion of where the gap in the transcript] and the theosophical worldview are established at the same time, you couldn't let that stand. But there was never any break in the continuous development of what I had presented in my lectures and books. Of course, I do not speak of the Hierarchies in Philosophy of Freedom and Truth and Science; that was not my task. Besides, from the very fact that I have presented the matter from the most diverse sides, I have the right to expect that the same terms will not be applied to me as to many others. I have written a “Theosophy”; but before that I wrote the “Philosophy of Freedom”, “Truth and Science”, “Goethe's World View”, and before that I had written the book, which was then called “World and Life Views in the 19th Century”, and in it I set down much of what you can still see today, which was later developed, which was only a germ at the time.

I have written a “Theosophy”; now what is contained in my world view is clearly indicated: “He is a theosophist!” This is just as clear as if someone had written a “chemistry” and one demanded of him that he had a chemical world view. I have written a book called “Theosophy” in which what is written in it is written from the point of view of Theosophy, just as one describes a certain area of the world. But the fact that someone should only have chemical thoughts when he has written a “chemistry” /gap in the transcript] means not building a system out of concepts, but judging from life; not setting up some new system, not founding some kind of sectarian movement, but grasping the spirituality of life in its various aspects in order to bring it to the world's consciousness, that is what matters: the truly concrete spirituality.

You see, therefore, that it is simply an objective untruth when Seiling claims today that I would somehow simply copy the things of the Theosophical Society after having copied Haeckelianism for a while. One must have the will to truth, and that can only come from the will to spirituality.

You can see, therefore, the sources from which what is asserting itself so spitefully today comes — in the addiction to insane inventions —, namely, to eliminate spiritual science in the form in which it actually arises out of the needs and longings of the time, because it cannot be fought. Fighting it is considered too inconvenient, because this spiritual science will emerge victoriously from this fight. Therefore, what is necessary now, when one wants to get involved in such things, must not be taken lightly. But I know that those of our dear friends who have a heart and mind for the seriousness of what is at stake in anthroposophically oriented spiritual science will probably agree with the two measures I have mentioned to you. The first: In the future, these private gatherings, which initially arose from the center of society and led to the most incredible gossip, must be avoided.

I am sorry that I have to mention this here in Hamburg as well, although Hamburg is one of the cities that are more or less far removed from what is now occurring in such an untruthful manner. But all members need to know. One must not come with the objection that has just been raised in Munich, for example: “Everyone has to suffer because of these rioters.” – These rioters have been talked about long enough, something must be done that will permanently point out the seriousness of the situation and the sacredness of spiritual science for a long time.

And the other necessary measure is that I authorize everyone, insofar as they themselves want, to talk about what has ever occurred or been said in these gatherings. What spiritual science is does not need to shy away from the light of day. Spiritual science can be brought into the full light of day with all esotericism. It needs to shy away from nothing, absolutely nothing, in the full light of day.

Please forgive me, my dear friends, for having to point this out in all seriousness here in the presence of this society; but I have tried to make it clear that it is connected with higher, more far-reaching points of view points of view, for the reason that what is intended in anthroposophically oriented spiritual science creates out of a reality, creates out of the full reality, out of the developing reality. And it is necessary that we finally grasp this, that if we immerse ourselves in that which is currently to be overcome, we cannot arrive at a critique of it that not only speaks of something else, but must also speak of this other in a different way, must speak a completely new language. It is certainly a witty truth, my dear friends, when someone hears a person, when an Italian hears someone speak and says: “That's a language? That's nonsense, it contradicts every word I think!” The other person is speaking German. - It is very witty to say: “Every word contradicts the Italian.” You just have to learn the language first if you want to understand German when you are Italian.

If you do not want to learn the - I would like to say - novel language in which spiritual science has to appear, then it is impossible to come to an understanding of spiritual science.

My dear friends, it is absolutely necessary to grasp this quite deeply. This is one of the things that must be asserted again and again. Becoming friends with life, penetrating life, becoming related to life - that is what is necessary.

And in the face of the seriousness that today's seeker must have, one can still make very special discoveries about those people in the present who believe that they can criticize this seriousness today. I once had to say the following at a general assembly in Berlin: When I approached Nietzsche years ago, the truth as such came before my soul in Nietzsche. What does truth mean in life? That can become a mystery; the role of truth in life? And it becomes a bloody mystery; / gap in the transcript] one gives one's heart's blood to answer the question about the value of truth, the question that is posed in such a haunting way in Nietzsche's “Beyond Good and Evil”, even though Nietzsche, bleeding to death precisely because of this question, soon afterwards fell into madness. The question is posed in such a way that one must penetrate to the very depths of the sources of human knowledge. This is a question that one must solve with one's heart's blood.

Max Seiling finds, because I said at the time: “How can the problem arise according to the value of truth? One must solve this question with one's heart's blood. Especially with Nietzsche one can see it arise.

can see it happening.” Of course, one then comes to the important realization of our anthroposophically oriented dictum, ‘Wisdom lies only in truth,’ but that can initially be a problem to be solved with the heart's blood. Max Seiling, when people told him that I had the “tastelessness” to speak of the bleeding heart, he had to read it in the “Mitteilungen” to believe that I had the “tastelessness” to speak like that.

Today, we have to learn this and at the same time be convinced that Max Seiling von den Widersprüchen against the dictum had not yet spoken before his brochure was rejected, and only then came to speak as he then spoke after it had been rejected. It is important to see what flows from mere spite, from mere unwillingness to face the truth, not only from a general, but also from a deeper point of view.

Dear ones, when one insults the other, it is necessary that the one who insults be treated with the first principle of the Anthroposophical Society, namely lovingly and benevolently, and that the one who is attacked should ask for forgiveness. The attacker is a person one should feel sorry for, and the one who is attacked should think: 'How easy it is to go wrong!' Therefore, it is unconscionable of me – and there will be those who say so even now – that I point out Seiling's slanders and invective in this way and do not say: 'He rants in the most hateful way, but I find it appropriate that, above all, general philanthropy should prevail and say: Well, it is understandable that such fruits must also come into the world, one must be grateful that someone points out the contradictions, not merely needing to believe in authority. — Certainly, this judgment is also possible; but you will see how far we would get with it.

When we observe how life takes its course around us, how it throws its waves into our inner life, into everything we are destined to feel, to suffer or to delight in during our present existence on the earth, we can think of several groups or kinds of experiences.

As regards our own faculties and talents, we find, to begin with, that when we succeed in something or other, we may say: being what we are, it is quite natural and understandable that we should succeed in this or that case. But certain failures, perhaps just those that must be called misfortune and calamity,—may also become intelligible when viewed in the whole setting of our nature.

In such cases we may not, perhaps, always be able to prove exactly how this or that failure is connected with our own shortcomings in one direction or another. But when we are obliged to say of ourselves in a general way: In many respects you were a superficial character in your present life, so it is understandable that in certain circumstances you were bound to fail—then we may not immediately perceive the connection between the failure and the shortcomings, but generally speaking we shall realise that if we have been frivolous and superficial, success cannot always be at our finger-tips.

From what has been said you may think that some kind of causal connection could have been evident between what inevitably happened and your faculties or incompetencies. But there are many things in life where, however conscientiously we set to work, we are not able at once to connect success or failure with these faculties or shortcomings; how we ourselves were at fault or why we deserved success, remains a mystery. In short, when thinking more of our inner life we shall be able to distinguish two groups of experiences: in the case of the one group we are aware of the causes of our successes and failures; in the case of the second group we shall not be able to detect any such connection, and that we failed in one particular instance and succeeded in another will seem to be more or less chance. To begin with, we will bear in mind that there is ample evidence in life of this latter group of facts and experiences, and will return to it later.

In contrast to what has just been said, we can think more about our destiny in outer life. There again, two groups of facts will have to be kept in mind. There are cases where it is inwardly clear to us that in connection with events that befall us—not, therefore, those we ourselves initiated—we did certain things and consequently are to blame for these happenings. But of another group of experiences we shall be very liable to say that we can see no connection whatever with what we resolved, what we intended. These are events of which it is usually said that they broke in upon our life as if by chance; they seem to have no connection whatever with anything we ourselves have brought about.

It is this second group of experiences in their relation to our inner life that we shall now consider, that is to say, those happenings where we are unable to perceive any direct or immediate connection with our faculties and shortcomings—outer events, therefore, which we call chance events, of which we cannot at the outset perceive how they could have been brought about by any preceding factor. By way of test, a kind of experiment can be made with these two groups of experiences. The experiment entails no obligations; it is a question merely of putting to the test what will now be characterised.

The experiment can take the following form.—We ask ourselves: How would it be if we were to build up in thought a kind of imaginary human being, saying of him just those things between which we can see no connection by means of our own faculties; we endow this imaginary man with the qualities and faculties which have led, in our own case, to these incomprehensible happenings. We there imagine a man possessing faculties of such a kind that he will inevitably succeed or fail in matters where we cannot say the same in connection with our own shortcomings or faculties. We imagine him as one who has quite deliberately brought about the events which seem to have come into our life by chance.

Simple examples can serve as the starting-point here. Suppose a tile from a roof has fallen upon and injured our shoulders. We shall be inclined to attribute this to chance. But to begin with as an experiment, we now build up in thought an imaginary man who acts in the following strange way. He climbs on a roof, quickly loosens a tile, but only to the point where it still has a certain hold; then he runs quickly to the ground so that when the tile has become quite detached, it falls on his shoulders. The same can be done in the case of all events which seem to have come into our life by chance. We build up an imaginary man who is guilty of or brings about all those things of which in ordinary life we cannot see how they are connected with us.

Such procedure may seem at first to be nothing but a play of fancy. No obligation is incurred by it, but one remarkable thing emerges. When we have imagined such a man with the qualities referred to, he makes a very memorable impression upon us. We cannot get rid of the picture we have thus created in thought; although the picture seems so artificial, it fascinates us, gives the impression that it must, after all, have something to do with ourselves. The feeling we have of this imaginary thought-man accounts for this. If we steep ourselves in this picture it will most certainly not leave us free. A remarkable process then takes shape within our soul, an inner process that is enacted in human beings all the time. We may think of something, make a resolution; for this we need something we once knew, and we use all sorts of artificial means for recalling it. This effort to call up into memory something that has escaped us is, of course, a process in the life of soul—“recollection” as it is usually called. All the thoughts we summon up to help us to remember something are auxiliary thoughts. Just try for once to realise how many and how often such thoughts have to be used and dropped again, in order to get at what we want to know. The purpose of these auxiliary thoughts is to open the way to the recollection needed at the moment.

In exactly the same, but in a far more comprehensive sense, the ‘thought-man’ described represents an auxiliary process. He never leaves us alone; he is astir in us in such a way that we realise: he lives in us as a thought, as something that goes on working, that is actually transformed within us into the idea, the thought, which now flashes up suddenly into our soul in the ordinary process of recollection; it is something that overwhelms us. It is as though something says to us: this being cannot remain as he is, he transforms something within you, he becomes alive, he changes! This forces itself upon us in such a way that the imaginary man whispers to us: This is something that has to do with another earth-existence, not with the present one. A kind of recollection of another earth-existence—that is the thought which quite definitely arises. It is really more a feeling than a thought, a sentient experience, but of such a kind that we feel as though what arises in the soul is what we ourselves once were in an earlier incarnation on this earth.

Anthroposophy, regarded in its entirety, is by no means merely a sum-total of theories, of presentations of facts, but it gives us directives and indications for achieving our aspirations. Anthroposophy says: If you carry out certain exercises you will be led nearer to the point where recollection is easier for you. It can also be said—and this is drawn from the sphere of actual experience: If you adopt this procedure you get an inner impression, a sentient impression, of the person you were in an earlier life. We there achieve what may be called an extension of memory. What discloses itself to us is, to begin with, a thought-reality only, as long as we are building up the imaginary man described. But this imaginary man does not remain a thought-being. He transforms himself into sentient impressions, impressions in the life of soul, and while this is going on we realise that this experience has something to do with our earlier incarnation. Our memory extends to this earlier incarnation.

In this present incarnation we remember those things in which our thoughts participated. But in ordinary life, what has played into our life of feeling does not so easily remain vivid and alive. If you try to think back to something that caused you great pain ten or twenty years ago, you will be able to recall the mental picture of it without difficulty; you will be able to cast your thoughts back to what then took place; but you cannot recapture the actual, immediate experience of the pain felt at the time. The pain fades, the remembrance of it streams into the life of ideation. What has here been described is a memory in the soul, a memory belonging to the life of feeling. And as such we actually feel our earlier incarnation. There does, in fact, arise what may be called a remembrance of earlier incarnations. It is not possible immediately to perceive what is playing over into the present incarnation, what is actually the bearer of the remembrance of earlier incarnations. Consider how intimately our thoughts are united with what gives expression to them, with our speech and language. Language is the embodiment of the world of thoughts and ideas. In each life, every human being has to learn the language anew. A child of the very greatest philologist or linguist has to learn his mother-tongue by dint of effort. There has yet to be a case of a grammar-school boy learning Greek with ease because he rapidly remembered the Greek he had spoken in earlier incarnations!

The poet Hebbel jotted down one or two thoughts for the plan of a drama he intended to write. It is a pity that he did not actually carry out this project, for it would have been an extremely interesting drama. The theme was to have been that Plato, reincarnated as a school-boy, received the very lowest marks for his understanding of the Plato of old! We need not remind ourselves that some teachers are severe, or pedantic. We realise that what Hebbel jotted down is due to the fact that the element of thought, which is also in play in the mental pictures of immediate experiences, is limited more or less to the present incarnation. As we have now heard, the first impression of the earlier incarnation comes as a direct memory in the life of feeling, as a new kind of memory. The impression we get when this memory arises from the imaginary man we have created in thought, is more like a feeling, but of such a kind that we realise: the impression comes from some being who once existed and who you yourself were. Something that is like a feeling arising in an act of remembrance is what comes to us as a first impression of the earlier incarnation.

The creation of an imaginary man in thought is simply a means of proving to us that this means is something that transforms itself into an impression in the life of soul, or the life of feeling. Everyone who comes to Anthroposophy has the opportunity of carrying out what has now been described. And if he does so he will actually receive an inner impression of which—to use a different illustration—he might speak as follows. I once saw a landscape; I have forgotten what it actually looked like, but I know it delighted me! If this happened during the present life, the landscape will no longer make a very vivid impression of feeling; but if the impression of the landscape came from an earlier incarnation the impression will be particularly vivid. In the form of a feeling we can obtain a very vivid impression of our earlier incarnation. And if we then observe such impressions objectively, we may at times experience something like a feeling of bitterness, bitter-sweetness or acidity from what emerges as the transformation of the imaginary thought-man. This bitter-sweet or some such feeling is the impression made upon us by our earlier incarnation; it is an impression of feeling, an impression in the life of soul.

The endeavour has now been made to draw attention to something that can ultimately promote in every human being a kind of certainty of having existed in an earlier life—certainty through having engendered a feeling of inner impressions which he knows were most definitely not received in this present life. Such an impression, however, arises the same way as a recollection arises in ordinary life. We may now ask: How can one know that the impression is actually a recollection? There it can only be said that to ‘prove’ such a thing is not possible. But the process is the same as it is elsewhere in life, when we remember something and are in a sound state of mind. We know there that what arises within us in thought is actually related to something we have experienced. The experience itself gives the certainty. What we picture in the way indicated gives us the certainty that the impression which arises in the soul is not related to anything that had to do with us in the present life but to something in the earlier life.

We have there called forth in ourselves by artificial means, something that brings us into connection with our earlier life. We can also use many different kinds of experiences as tests, and eventually awaken in ourselves feelings of earlier lives.

Here again, from a different aspect, the experiences we have in life can be divided into groups. In the one group may be included the sufferings, sorrows and obstacles we have encountered; in a second group may be included the joys, happinesses and advantages in our life. Again as a test, we can take the following standpoint, and say: Yes, we have had these sorrows, these sufferings. Being what we are in this incarnation, with normal life running its course, our sorrows and sufferings are dire misfortunes, something that we would gladly avoid. By way of a test, let us not take this attitude but assume that for a certain reason we ourselves brought about these sorrows, sufferings and obstacles, realising that owing to our earlier lives—if there have actually been such lives—we have become in a sense more imperfect because of what we have done. After all, we do not only become more perfect through the successive incarnations but also, in a certain respect, more imperfect. When we have affronted or injured some human being, are we not more imperfect than we were before? We have not only affronted him, we have taken something away from ourself; as a personality taken as a whole, our worth would be greater if we had not done this thing. Many such actions are marked on our score and our imperfection remains because of them. If we have affronted some human being and desire to regain our previous worth, what must happen? We must make compensation for the affront, we must place into the world a counterbalancing deed, we must discover some means of compelling ourselves to overcome something. And if we think in this way about our sufferings and sorrows, we shall be able in many instances to say: These sufferings and sorrows, if we surmount them, give us strength to overcome our imperfections. Through suffering we can make progress.

In normal life we do not think in this way; we set our face against suffering. But we can also say the following: Every sorrow, every suffering, every obstacle in life should be an indication of the fact that we have within us a man who is cleverer than we ourselves are. Although the man we ourselves are is the one of whom we are conscious, we regard him for a time as being the less clever; within us we have a cleverer man who slumbers in the depths of our soul. With our ordinary consciousness we resist sorrows and sufferings but the cleverer man leads us towards these sufferings in defiance of our consciousness because by overcoming them we can strip off something. He guides us to the sorrows and sufferings, directs us to undergo them. This may, to begin with, be an oppressive thought but it carries with it no obligation; we can, if we so wish, use it once only, by way of trial. We can say: Within us there is a cleverer man who guides us to sufferings and sorrows, to something that in our conscious life we should like most of all to have avoided. We think of him as the cleverer man. In this way we are led to the realisation which many find disturbing, namely that this cleverer man guides us always towards what we do not like. This, then, we will take as an assumption: There is a cleverer man within us who guides us to what we do not like in order that we may make progress.

But let us still do something else. Let us take our joys, our advantages, our happinesses, and say to ourselves, again by way of trial: How would it be if you were to conceive the idea—irrespectively of how it tallies with the actual reality—that you have simply not deserved these happinesses, these advantages; they have come to you through the Grace of higher, spiritual Powers. It need not be so in every case, but we will assume, by way of test, that all our sorrows and sufferings were brought about because the cleverer man within us guided us to them, because we recognise that in consequence of our imperfections they were necessary for us and that we can overcome them only through such experiences. And then we assume the opposite: That our happinesses are not due to our own merit but have been vouchsafed to us by spiritual Powers.

Again this thought may be a bitter pill for the vain to swallow, but if, as a test, a man is capable of forming such a thought with all intensity, he will be led to the feeling—because again it undergoes a transformation and in so far as it lacks effectiveness, rectifies itself:—In you there lives something that has nothing to do with your ordinary consciousness, that lies deeper than anything you have experienced consciously in this life; there is a cleverer man within you who gladly turns to the eternal, divine-spiritual Powers pervading the world. Then it becomes an inner certainty that behind the outer there is an inner, higher individuality. Through such thought-exercises we grow to be conscious of the eternal, spiritual core of our being, and this is of extraordinary importance. So there again we have something which it lies in our power to carry out.

In every respect Anthroposophy can be a guide, not only towards knowledge of the existence of another world, but towards feeling oneself as a citizen of another world, as an individuality who passes through many incarnations.

There are experiences of still a third kind. Admittedly it will be more difficult to make use of these experiences for the purpose of gaining an inner knowledge of karma and reincarnation. But even if what will now be said is difficult, it can again be used again by way of trial. And if it is honestly applied to external life it will dawn upon us clearly—as a probability to begin with, but then as an ever-growing certainty—that our present life is connected with an earlier one.

Let us assume that in our present life between birth and death we have already reached or passed our thirtieth year. (Those below that age may also have corresponding experiences). We reflect about the fact that somewhere near our thirtieth year we were brought into contact with some person in the outside world, that between the ages of thirty and forty many different connections have been established with human beings in the outside world. These connections seem to have been made during the most mature stage of our life so that our whole being was involved in them. Reflection discloses that it is indeed so. But reflection based on the principles and knowledge of Spiritual Science can lead us to realise the truth of what will now be said—not as the outcome of mere reflection but of spiritual-scientific investigation. What I am saying has not been discovered merely through logical thinking; it has been established by spiritual-scientific research, but logical thinking can confirm the facts and find them reasonable. We know how the several members of man's constitution unfold in the course of life: in the seventh year, the ether-body; in the fourteenth year, the astral body; in the twenty-first year the sentient-soul, in the twenty-eighth year the intellectual or mind-soul and in the thirty-fifth year the consciousness-soul (spiritual soul). Reflecting on this, we can say: In the period from the thirtieth year to the fortieth year we are concerned with the unfolding of the mind-soul and the spiritual soul.

The mind-soul and the spiritual soul are those forces in our nature which bring us into the closest contact of all with the outer physical world, for they unfold at the very age in life when our intercourse with that world is more active than at any other time. In earliest childhood, the forces belonging to our physical body are directed, determined, activated, by what is still entirely enclosed within us. The causal element engendered in previous incarnations, whatever went with us through the Gate of Death, the spiritual forces we have garnered—everything we bring with us from the earlier life works and weaves in the upbuilding of our physical body. It is at work unceasingly and invisibly from within outwards; as the years go by, this influence diminishes and the period of life approaches when the old forces have produced the body and we confront the world with a finished organism; what we bear within us has come to expression in our external body. At about the thirtieth year—it may be somewhat earlier or somewhat later—we confront the world in the most strongly physical sense; in our intercourse with the world we are connected more closely with the physical plane than during any other period of life. We may think that the relationships in life into which we now enter are more physically intelligible than any others, but the fact is that such relationships are least of all connected with the forces which work and weave in us from birth onwards. Nevertheless we may take it for granted that at about the age of thirty we are not led by chance to people who are destined, precisely then, to appear in our environment. We must far rather assume that there too our karma is at work, that these people too have something to do with one of our earlier incarnations.

Facts of Spiritual Science investigated at various times show that very often the people with whom we come into contact somewhere around our thirtieth year are related to us in such a way that in most cases we were connected with them at the beginning of the immediately preceding incarnation—or it may have been earlier still—as parents, or brothers or sisters. At first this seems a strange and astonishing fact. Although it need not inevitably be so, many cases indicate to spiritual-scientific investigation that in very truth our parents, or those who were by our side at the beginning of our previous life, who gave us our place in the physical world but from whom in later life we grew away, are karmically connected with us in such a way that in our new life we are not again guided to them in early childhood but only when we have come most completely on to the physical plane. It need not always be exactly like this, for spiritual-scientific research shows very frequently that it is not until a subsequent incarnation that those who are then our parents, brothers or sisters, or blood-relations in general, are the people we found around us in the present incarnation at about the time of our thirtieth year. So the acquaintances we make somewhere about the age of thirty in any one incarnation may have been, or will be, persons related to us by blood in a previous or subsequent incarnation. It is therefore useful to say to oneself: The personalities with whom life brings you in contact in your thirties were once around you as parents or brothers and sisters or you can anticipate that in one of your next incarnations they will have this relationship with you.

The reverse also holds good. If we think of those personalities whom we choose least of all voluntarily through forces suitable for application on the physical plane—that is to say, our parents, our brothers and sisters who were around us at the beginning of life—if we think of these personalities we shall very often find that precisely those who accompany us into life from childhood onwards were deliberately chosen by us in another incarnation to be near us while we were in the thirties. In other words, in the middle of the preceding life we ourselves chose out those who in the present life have become our parents, brothers or sisters.

So the remarkable and very interesting fact emerges that our relationships with the personalities with whom we come to be associated are not the same in the successive incarnations; also that we do not encounter these people at the same age in life as previously. Neither can it be said that exactly the opposite holds good. Furthermore it is not the personalities who were with us at the end of an earlier life who are connected, in a different incarnation, with the beginning of our life, but those with whom we were associated in the middle period of life. So neither those personalities with whom we are together at the beginning of life, nor those with us at its end, but those with whom we come into contact in the middle of life, were around us as blood-relations at the beginning of an earlier incarnation. Those who were around us then, when our life was beginning, appear in the middle of our present life; and of those who were around us at the beginning of our present life we can anticipate that we shall find ourselves together with them in the middle of one of our subsequent incarnations, that they will then come into connection with us as freely chosen companions in life. Karmic relationships are indeed mysterious.

What I have now said is the outcome of spiritual-scientific investigation. But I repeat: if, in the way opened up by this investigation, we reflect about the inner connections between the beginning of life in one of our incarnations and the middle of life in another, we shall realise that this is not void of sense or usefulness. The other aspect is that when such things are brought to our notice and we adopt an intelligent attitude to them, they bring clarity and illumination. Life is clarified if we do not simply accept such things passively—not to say dull-wittedly; it is clarified if we try to grasp, to understand, what comes to us in life in such a way that the relationships which are bound to remain elusive as long as karma is only spoken of in the abstract, become concretely perceptible.

It is useful to reflect about the question: Why is it that in the middle of our life we are actually driven by karma, seemingly with complete mental awareness, to form some acquaintanceship which does not appear to have been made quite independently and objectively? The reason is that such persons were related to us by blood in the earlier life and our karma leads them to us now because we have some connection with them.

Whenever we reflect in this way about the course of our own life, we shall see that light is shed upon it. Although we may be mistaken in some particular instance, and even if we err in our conclusions ten times over, nevertheless we may well hit upon the truth in regard to someone who comes into our ken. And when such reflections lead us to say: Somewhere or other I have met this person—thus thought is like a signpost pointing the way to other things which in different circumstances would not have occurred to us and which, taken in their whole setting, give us ever-growing certainty of the correctness of particular facts.

Karmic connections are not of such a nature that they can be discerned in one sudden flash. The highest, most important facts of knowledge regarding life, those that really do shed light upon it, must be acquired slowly and by degrees. This is not a welcome thought. It is easier to believe that some flash of illumination might enable it to be said: “In an earlier life I was associated with this or that person,” or “I myself was this or that individual.” It may be tiresome to think that all this must be a matter of knowledge slowly acquired, but that is the case nevertheless. Even if we merely cherish the belief that it might possibly be so, investigation must be repeated time and time again before the belief will become certainty. Even in cases where probability grows constantly stronger, investigation leads us farther. We erect barricades against the spiritual world if we allow ourselves to form instantaneous judgments in these matters.

Try to ponder over what has been said to-day about the acquaintanceships made in the middle period of life and their connection with individuals who were near to us in a preceding incarnation. This will lead to very fruitful thoughts, especially if taken together with what is said in the book, The Education of the Child in the light of Anthroposophy. It will then be unambiguously clear that the outcome of your reflection tallies with what is set forth in that book.

But an earnest warning must be added to what has been said to-day. The genuine investigator guards against drawing conclusions; he lets the things come to him of themselves. Once they are there, he first puts them to the test of ordinary logic. Repetition will then be impossible of something that recently happened to me, not for the first time, and is very characteristic of the attitude adopted to Anthroposophy to-day. A very clever man—I say this without irony, fully recognising that he has a brilliant mind—said the following to me: “When I read what is contained in your book, An Outline of Occult Science, I am bound to admit that it seems so logical, to tally so completely with other manifest facts in the world, that I cannot help coming to the conclusion that these things could also be discovered through pure reflection; they need not necessarily be the outcome of super-sensible investigation. The things said in this book are in no way questionable or dubious; they tally with the reality.” I was able to assure this gentleman of my conviction that it would not have been possible for me to discover them through mere reflection, nor that with great respect for his cleverness, could I believe he would have discovered them by that means alone. It is absolutely true that whatever in the domain of Spiritual Science is capable of being logically comprehended simply cannot be discovered by mere reflection! The fact that some matter can be put to the test of logic and then grasped, should be no ground for doubting its spiritual-scientific origin. On the contrary, I am sure it must be reassuring to know that the communications made by Spiritual Science can be recognised through logical reflection as being unquestionably correct; it cannot possibly be the ambition of the spiritual investigator to make illogical statements for the sake of inspiring belief! As you see, the spiritual investigator himself cannot take the standpoint that he discovers such things through reflection. But if we reflect about things that have been discovered by the methods of Spiritual Science, they may seem so logical, even too logical to allow us to believe any longer that they actually come from spiritual-scientific sources. And this applies to everything said to have been the outcome of genuine spiritual-scientific investigation.

If, to begin with, the things that have been said to-day seem grotesque, try for once to apply logical thinking to them. Truly, if spiritual facts had not led me to these things, I should not have deduced them from ordinary, logical thinking; but once they have been discovered they can be put to the test of logic. And then it will be found that the more meticulously and conscientiously we set about testing them, the more clearly it will emerge that everything tallies. Even in the case of matters where accuracy cannot really be tested, from the very way in which the various factors fit into their settings, it will be found that they give the impression of being not only in the highest degree probable, but bordering on certainty—as in the case, for example, of what has been said about parents and brothers and sisters in one life and acquaintances made in the middle of another life. Moreover such certainty proves to be well-founded when things are put to the test of life itself. In many cases we shall view our own behaviour and that of others in a quite different light if we confront someone we meet in the middle period of life, as if, in the preceding life, the relationship between us had been that of parent, brother or sister. The whole relationship will thereby become much more fruitful than if we go through life with drowsy inattentiveness.

And so we can say: More and more, Anthroposophy becomes something that does not merely give us knowledge of life but directives as to how to conceive of life's relationships in such a way that light will be shed upon them not only for our own satisfaction, but also for our conduct and tasks in life. It is important to discard the thought that in this way we impair a spontaneous response to life. Only the timid, those who lack a really earnest purpose in life, can believe such a thing. We, however, must realise that by gaining closer knowledge of life we make it more fruitful, inwardly richer. What comes to us in life should be carried, through Anthroposophy, into horizons where all our forces become more fertile, more full of confidence, a greater stimulus to hope, than they were before.

This lecture is the 10th of 12 lectures given by Rudolf Steiner at Dornach, Switzerland, during January of 1923. The title these lectures were published under is: A Living Knowledge of Nature, the Fall of the Intellect into Sin, the Spiritual Resurrection.

In my last lectures, I spoke of man's fall into sin and of an ascent from sin. I spoke of this ascent as something that must arise in the present age from human consciousness in general, as a kind of ideal for man's striving and willing. I have pointed out the more formal aspect of the fall of man, as it appears in the present time, by showing how the fall of man influences intellectual life. What people say concerning the limitations of our knowledge of Nature, really arises from the view that man has no inner strength enabling him to reach the spiritual, and that he must therefore renounce all efforts that might lift him above earthly contemplation. I said that when people speak to-day of the limits of knowledge, this is only the modern intellectual interpretation of how man was cast down into sin; this was felt in older times and particularly during the Middle Ages. To-day I should like to speak more from a material aspect, in order to show that modern humanity cannot reach the goal of the evolution of the earth, if the views acquired in a more recent age—especially in the course of an intellectual development—do not change. Through the consciousness of sin, the general consciousness of to-day has, to a certain extent, suffered this very fall of man. Modern intellectualism already bears the marks of this fall and decay; indeed, the decay is so strong that, unless the intellectual civilisation of the present time changes, there is no hope of attaining mankind's goal in the evolution of the earth. To-day it is necessary to know that in the depths of the human soul forces are living that are, as it were, better than the present state of the consciousness of our civilisation. It is necessary to contemplate quite clearly the nature of the consciousness of our civilisation.

The consciousness of our civilisation arose, on the one hand, from a particular conception of the thinking human being, and, on the other hand, from a particular conception of the willing human being. To-day man uses his thinking chiefly in order to know as much as possible of the outer kingdoms of Nature, and to grasp human life with the methods of thinking gained through the usual way of looking at Nature. To-day natural science teaches us to think, and we consider social life, too, in the light of this thinking, acquired through the natural sciences as they are known to-day.

Many people believe that this conception of the thinking human being, of man who observes Nature and thinks, is an unprejudiced conception. All kinds of things are mentioned that science is unprejudiced, and so on. But I have shown repeatedly that these arguments are not of much value. For, everything that a thinker applies when he is bent on his scientific investigations (according to which other people then arrange their life) has evolved from earlier ways of thinking. Modern thinking is the direct outcome of mediaeval thinking. I have pointed out already that even the arguments of the opponents of mediaeval thinking are thought out with the methods of thinking that have evolved from mediaeval thinking. An essential trait of mediaeval thinking which entered modern thinking is that the activity of thought is contemplated only in the form in which it is applied in the observation of the outer phenomena of Nature. The process of thinking is ignored altogether and there is no philosophy leading to the contemplation of thinking itself. No notice at all is taken of the process of thought and of its inner living force.

The reason for this lies in the considerations that I have already set forth. Once I said that a modern man's thoughts on Nature are really corpses, all our thoughts on the kingdoms of Nature are dead thoughts. The life of these thought corpses lies in man's pre-earthly existence. The thoughts that we form to-day on the kingdoms of Nature and on the life of man are dead while we are thinking them; they were endowed with life in our pre-earthly existence.

The abstract, lifeless thoughts that we form here on earth in accordance with modern habits of thinking were alive, were living elementary beings during our pre-earthly existence, before we descended to a physical incarnation on earth. Then, we lived in these thoughts as living beings, just as to-day we live in our blood. During our life on earth, these thoughts are dead and for this reason they are abstract. But our thinking is dead only as long as we apply it to Nature outside: as soon as we look into our own selves it appears to us as something living, for it continues working there, within us, in a way which remains concealed from the usual consciousness of to-day. There it continues to elaborate what existed during our pre-earthly life. The forces that seize our organism when we incarnate on earth, are the forces of these living thoughts. The force of these living, pre-earthly thoughts makes us grow and forms our organs. Thus, when the philosophers of a theory of knowledge speak of thinking, they speak of a lifeless thinking. Were they to speak of the true nature of thinking; not of its corpse, they would realise the necessity of considering man's inner life. There they would discover that the force of thinking, which becomes active when a human being is born or conceived, is not complete in itself and independent, because this inner activity of thought is the continuation of the living force of a pre-earthly thinking.

Even when we observe the tiny child (I will not now consider the embryo in the mother's body) and it's dreamy, slumbering life on earth, we can see the living force of pre-earthly thinking in its growth and even in its fretful tempers, provided we have eyes to see. Then we shall understand why the child slumbers dreamily and only begins to think later on. This is so, because in the, beginning of its life, when the child does nothing but sleep and dream, thoughts take hold of its entire organism. When the organism gradually grows firmer and harder, the thoughts, no longer seize the earthly and watery elements in the organism, but only the air element and the fire or warmth element. Thus we may say that in the tiny child thought takes possession of all four elements. The later development of a child consists in this, that thought takes hold only of the elements of air and fire. When an adult thinks, his force of thinking is contained only in the continuation of the breathing process and of the process which spreads warmth throughout his body.

Thus the force of thinking abandons the firmer parts of the physical organism for the air-like, evanescent, imponderable parts of the body. Thus thinking became the independent element that it now is, and bears us through the life between birth and death. The continuation of the pre-earthly force of thinking asserts itself only when we are asleep, i.e. when the weaker force of thinking acquired on earth no longer works in the warmth and air of the body. Thus we may say that modern man will understand something of the true nature of thinking only if he really advances towards an inner contemplation of man, of himself. Any other theory of knowledge is quite abstract.

If we bear this in mind rightly we must say that whenever we contemplate the activity that forms thoughts and ideas, our gaze opens out into pre-earthly existence.

Mediaeval thinking, still possessing a certain amount of strength, was not allowed to enter pre-earthly existence. Man's pre-existence was declared dogmatically as a heresy. Something that is forced upon mankind for centuries gradually becomes a habit. Think of the more recent evolution of humanity—take, for instance, the year 1413; people habitually refrained from allowing their thoughts to follow lines that might lead them to a pre-earthly existence, because they were not allowed to think of pre-earthly existence. People entirely lost the habit of directing their thoughts to a pre-earthly existence. If men had been allowed to think of pre-earthly life (they were forbidden this, up to 1413), evolution would have taken quite another direction. In this case we should very probably have seen this is a paradox, but it is true indeed we may say that undoubtedly we should have seen that when Darwinism arose in 1858, with its exterior theories on Nature's evolution, the thought of pre-earthly existence would have flashed up from all the kingdoms of Nature, as the result of a habit of thinking that took into consideration a pre-earthly existence. In the light of the knowledge of human pre-existence, another kind of natural science would have arisen. But men were no longer accustomed to consider pre-earthly life, and a science of Nature arose which considered man—as I have often set forth—as the last link in the chain of animal evolution. It could not reach a pre-earthly, individual life, because the animal has no pre-earthly, individual life.

Therefore we can say: When the intellectual age began to dawn, the old conception of the fall of mankind was responsible for the veto on all thoughts concerning pre-existence. Then science arose as the immediate offspring of this misunderstood fall of man. Our science is sinful, it is the direct outcome of the misunderstanding relating to the fall of man. This implies that the earth cannot reach the goal of its evolution as long as the natural sciences remain as they are; man would develop a consciousness that is not born of his union with a divine-spiritual origin, but of his separation from this divine-spiritual origin.

Hence present-day talk of the limitations of knowledge is not only a theoretical fact, for what is developing under the influence of intellectualism positively shows something that is pushing mankind below its level. Speaking in mediaeval terms, we should say that the natural sciences have gone to the devil.

Indeed, history speaks in a very peculiar way. When the natural sciences and their brilliant results arose (I do not mean to contest them to-day), those who still possessed some feeling for the true nature of man were afraid that natural science might lead them to the devil. The fear of that time—a last remnant of which can be seen in Faust, when he says farewell to the Bible and turns to Nature—consisted in this, that man might approach a knowledge of Nature under the sign of man's fall and not under the sign of an ascent from sin. The root of the matter really lies far deeper than one generally thinks. Whereas in the early Middle Ages there were all kinds of traditions consisting in the fear that the devilish poodle might stick to the heels of the scientist, mankind has now become sleepy, and does not even think of these matters.

This is the material aspect of the question. The view that there are limits to a knowledge of Nature is not only a theory; the fall and decay of mankind, due to its fall in the intellectual-empirical sphere, indeed exists to-day.

If this were not so, we should not have our modern theory of evolution. Normal methods of research would show, reality would show the following: There are, let us say, fish, lower mammals, higher mammals, man. To-day, this represents more or less the straight line of evolution. But the facts do not show this at all. You will find, along this whole line of evolution, that the facts do not coincide.

Marvels are revealed by a real scientific investigation of Nature; what scientists say about Nature is not true. For, if we consider the facts without any prejudice we obtain the following: Man, higher mammals, lower mammals, fish. (Of course, I am omitting details.) Thus we descend from man to the higher mammals, the lower mammals, etc. until we reach the source of origin of all, where everything is spiritual, and in the further evolution of man we can see that his origin is in the spirit. Gradually man assumed a higher spirituality. The lower beings, also, have their origin in the spirit, but they have not assumed a higher spirituality. Facts show us this.

Man
Higher Mammals
Lower Mammals
Fish.

Correct views of these facts could have been gained if human habits of thinking had not obeyed the veto on belief in pre-existence or pre-earthly life. Then, for instance, a mind like Darwin could not possibly have reached the conclusions set forth above; he would have reached other conclusions deriving from habits of thought, not from necessities dictated by scientific investigation.

Goethe's theory of metamorphosis could thus have been continued in a straight line. I have always pointed out to you that Goethe was unable to develop his theory of metamorphosis. If you observe with an unprejudiced mind how matters stood with Goethe, you will find that he was unable to continue. He observed the plant in its development and found the primordial plant (Urpflanze). Then he approached the human being and tried to study the metamorphosis of the human bones. But he came to a standstill and could not go on.

If you peruse Goethe's writings on the morphology of the human bony system you will see that, on the one hand, his ideas are full of genius. The cleft skull of a sheep which he found on the Lido in Venice, showed him that the skull-bones are transformed vertebrae, but he could not develop his idea further than this.

I have drawn your attention to some notes that I found in the Goethe-Archives when I was staying at Weimar. In these notes Goethe says that the entire human brain is a transformed spinal ganglion. Again, he left it at this point. These notes are jotted down in pencil in a note-book and the last pencil-marks plainly show Goethe's discontent and his wish to go further. But scientific research was not advanced enough for this. To-day it is advanced enough and has reached long ago the point of facing this problem. When we contemplate the human being, even in his earliest embryonic stages, we find that the form of the present skull-bones cannot possibly have evolved from the vertebrae of the spine. This is quite out of the question. Anyone who knows something of modern embryology argues as follows: what we see in man to-day, does not justify the statement that the skull-bones are transformed vertebrae. For this reason we can indeed say that when Gegenbauer investigated this matter once more at a later date, results proved that as far as the skull-bones and especially the facial bones were concerned, matters stood quite differently from what Goethe had assumed.

But if we know that the present shape of the skull-bones leads us back to the bones of the body of the preceding incarnation, we can understand this metamorphosis. Exterior morphology itself then leads us into the teaching of repeated lives on earth. This lies in a straight line with Goethe's theory of metamorphosis. But the stream of evolution that finally led to Darwin and still rules official science, cannot advance as far as truth. For the misunderstood fall of man has ruined thinking and has caused its decay. The question is far more serious than one is inclined to imagine to-day.

We must realise that the consciousness of mankind has changed in the course of time. For instance, we may describe something as beautiful. But if we ask a philosopher of today to explain what beauty is (for he should know something about these things, should he not?), we shall receive the most incredibly abstract explanation. “Beautiful” is a word which we sometimes use rightly, instinctively, out of our feeling. But modern man has not the slightest notion of what, for instance, a Greek imagined when he spoke of the beautiful, in his meaning of the word. We do not even know what the Greek meant by “Cosmos.” For him it was something quite concrete. Take our word “Universe.” What a confused jumble of thoughts it contains! When the Greek spoke of the Cosmos, this word held within it something beautiful, decorative, adorning, artistic. The Greek knew that when he spoke of the whole universe he could not do otherwise than characterise it with the idea of beauty. Cosmos does not only mean Universe—it means Nature's order of laws which has become universal beauty. This lies in the word “Cosmos.”

When the Greek saw before him a beautiful work of art, or when he wished to mould the form of a human being, how did he set to work? By forming it in beauty. Even in Plato's definitions we can feel what the Greek meant when he wished to form the human being artistically. The expression that Plato used means more or less the following: “Here on earth man is not at all what he should be. He comes from heaven and I have so portrayed his form that men may see in it his heavenly origin.” The Greek imagined man in his beauty, as if he had just descended from heaven, where of course, his exterior form does not resemble that of ordinary human beings. Here on earth human beings do not look as if they had just descended from heaven. Their form shows everywhere the Cain-mark, the mark of man's fall. This is the Greek conception. In our age, when we have forgotten man's connection with a pre-earthly, heavenly existence, we may not even think of such a thing.

Thus we may say that “beautiful” meant for the Greek that which reveals its heavenly meaning. In this way the idea of beauty becomes concrete. For us today it is abstract. In fact, there has been an interesting dispute between two authorities on aesthetics—the so-called “V” Vischer (because he spelt his name with a “V”), the Swabian Vischer, a very clever man, who wrote an important book on aesthetics (important, in the meaning of our age), and the formalist Robert Zimmermann, who wrote another book on aesthetics. The former, V-Vischer defines beauty as the manifestation of the idea in sensible form. Zimmermann defines beauty as the concordance of the parts within the whole. He defines it therefore more according to form, Vischer more according to content.

These definitions are really all like the famous personage who drew himself up into the air by his own forelock. What is the meaning of the expression “the appearance of the idea in sensible form?” First we must know what is meant by “the idea.” If the thought-corpse that humanity possesses as “idea” were to appear in physical shape, nothing would appear. But when we ask in the Greek sense: what is a beautiful human being? this does indeed signify something. A beautiful human being is one whose human shape is idealised to such an extent that it resembles a god. This is a beautiful man, in the Greek sense. The Greek definition has a meaning and gives us something concrete.

What really matters is that we should become aware of the change in the content of man's consciousness and in his soul-disposition in the course of time. Modern man believes that the Greek thought just as he thinks now. When people write the history of Greek philosophy—Zeller, for instance, who wrote an excellent history of Greek philosophy (excellent, in the meaning of our present age)—they write of Plato as if he had taught in the 19th century at the Berlin University, like Zeller himself, and not at the Platonic Academy. When we have really grasped this concretely, we see how impossible it is, for obviously Plato could not have taught at the Berlin University in the 19th century. Yet all that tradition relates of Plato is changed into conceptions of the 19th century, and people do not realise that they must transport their whole disposition of soul into an entirely different age, if they really wish to understand Plato.

If we acquire for ourselves a consciousness of the development of man's soul-disposition, we shall no longer think it an absurdity to say: In reality, human beings have fallen completely into sin, as far as their thoughts about external Nature and man himself are concerned.

Here we must remember something which people today never bear in mind—indeed, something which they may even look upon as a distorted idea. We must remember that the theoretical knowledge of to-day, which has become popular and which rules in every head even in the farthest corner of the world and in the remotest villages, contains something that can only be redeemed through the Christ. Christianity must first be understood in this sphere.

If we were to approach a modern scientist, expecting him to understand that his thinking must be saved by the Christ, he would probably put his hands to his head and say: “The deed of Christ may have an influence on a great many things in the world, but we cannot admit that it took place in order to redeem man from the fall into sin on the part of natural science.” Even when theologians write scientific books (there are numerous examples in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, one on ants, another on the brain, etc., and in most cases these books are excellent, better than those of the scientists, because the style is more readable), these books also breathe out, even more strongly, the need of taking a true Christology seriously. This means that particularly in the intellectual sphere we need a true ascent from sin, which must work against man's fall.

Thus we see that intellectualism has been contaminated by what has arisen out of the misunderstandings relating to the consciousness of sin—not out of the Fall as such, but from the misunderstandings with regard to the consciousness of sin. This consciousness of sin, which can be misunderstood so easily, must place the Christ in the centre of the evolution of the earth, as a higher Being, and from this point it must find the way out from the Fall. This requires a deeper and more detailed study of human evolution, also in the spiritual sphere.

You see, if we study mediaeval scholasticism as it is usually studied to-day, let us say as far back as Augustine, we shall achieve nothing. Nothing can result, because nothing is seen except that the modern scientific consciousness continues to evolve. The higher things, extending beyond this, are ignored.

In this hall I once tried to give an account of mediaeval scholasticism, showing all the connections. I gave a short course of lectures on Thomism and all that is connected with it. But it is a painful fact, and one that is of little help to our anthroposophical movement, that such ideas are not taken up. The relationship between the brilliant scientific conditions of to-day and the new impulse which must enter science is not sought. If this is not sought, then our scientific laboratories, which have cost so much real sacrifice, will remain unfruitful.

For these, progress would best be achieved by taking up such ideas and by avoiding futile discussions on atomism. In all spheres of fact, modern science has reached a point where it strives to cast aside the mass of sterile thoughts contained in modern scientific literature. Enough is known of the human being, anatomically and physiologically, to reach, by the right methods of thoughts, even such a bold conclusion as that of the metamorphosis of the form of the head from the bodily form of the preceding life. Naturally, if we cling to the material aspect, we shall not reach this point. Then we shall argue, very intelligently, that the bones must in this case remain physical matter, in order that they may undergo a gradual material metamorphosis in the grave! It is important to bear in mind that the material form is an external form and that it is the formative forces that undergo a metamorphosis.

On the one hand thinking has been fettered, because darkness has been thrown over pre-existence. On the other hand, we are concerned with post-existence, or the life after death. Life after death can be understood only with the aid of super-sensible knowledge. If super-sensible knowledge is rejected, life after death remains an article of faith, accepted purely on the ground of authority. A real understanding of the process of thinking leads to a pre-existent life, provided such thoughts are not forbidden. A knowledge of post-existent life can, however, only be acquired through super-sensible knowledge. Here the method described in my “Knowledge of the Higher Worlds” must be introduced. But this method is rejected by the consciousness of our times.

Thus two influences are at work: on the one hand, the continued effects of the decree prohibiting thought on man's pre-existence; on the other hand, the rejection of super-sensible knowledge. If both continue to work, the super-sensible world will remain an unexplored region, inaccessible to knowledge, i.e. it will remain an article of faith, and Christianity, too, will remain a matter of faith, not of knowledge. And Science, that claims the name of “science,” will not allow itself to have anything to do with the Christ. Thus we have our present-day conditions.

At the beginning of to-day's considerations, I said, with regard to the consciousness that is filled to-day with intellectualism, that humanity has slipped entirely into the consequences of the Fall. If this persists, humanity will be unable to raise itself. This means that it will not reach the goal of the evolution of the Earth. Modern science makes it impossible to reach the goal of the evolution of the Earth. Nevertheless, the depths of the human soul are still untouched: If man appeals to these soul-depths and develops super-sensible knowledge in the spirit of the Christ-impulse he will attain redemption once more, even in the intellectual sphere redemption from the intellectual forces, that have fallen—if I may express it in this way—into sin.

Consequently, the first thing which is needed is to realise that intellectual and empirical scientific research must become permeated with spirituality. But this spirituality cannot reach man as long as the content of space is investigated merely according to its spatial relationships, and the events taking place in the course of time are investigated merely in their chronological sequence.

If you study the shape of the human head, especially with regard to its bony structure, and compare it with the remainder of the skeleton (skull-bones compared to cylindrical bones, vertebrae and ribs) you will obtain no result whatever. You must go beyond time and space, to conceptions formed in spiritual science, for these grasp the human being as he passes from one earthly life to another. Then you will realise that to-day we may look upon the human skull-bones as transformed vertebrae. But the vertebrae of the present skeleton of a human being can never change into skull-bones in the sphere of earthly existence. They must first decay and become spiritual, in order to change into skull-bones in the next life on earth.

An instinctively intuitive mind like Goethe's sees in the skull-bones the metamorphosis of vertebrae. But spiritual science is needed in order to pursue this intuitive vision as far as the domain of facts. Goethe's theory of metamorphosis acquires significance only in the light of spiritual science. For this reason it could not satisfy even Goethe. This is why a knowledge gained through anthroposophical science is the only one that can bring man into a right relationship to the Fall and the re-ascent from sin. For this reason too, anthroposophical ideas are to-day something which seeks to enter into human evolution not only in the form of thoughts but as the content of life.

When I attempted to bring before you the Greek ideal of education, it was with the object that this ideal should stimulate ideas which ought to prevail in our modern system of education. For at the present stage of human life it is, of course, impossible to adopt the same educational methods as the Greeks. In spite of this, however, an all-embracing truth in regard to education can be learned from the Greek ideal, and this we will now-consider.

Up to the seventh year of life, the Greek child was brought up at home. Public education was not concerned with children under the age of seven. They were brought up at home, where the women lived in seclusion, apart from the ordinary pursuits of social life, which were an affair of the men. This in itself is the reinforcement of a truth of education, without knowledge of which one cannot really educate or teach, for the seventh year of life marks an all-important stage of childhood.

The main phenomenon characteristic of the seventh year of human life is the change of teeth. This is an event to which far too little importance is attached nowadays. For think of it, the nature of the human organism is such that it brings the first teeth with it as an inheritance, or, rather, it brings with it the force to produce these first teeth which are discarded at the seventh year. It is incorrect to imagine that the force which pushes up the second teeth at about the seventh year unfolds for the first time at this age. It is developing slowly from birth onwards, and simply reaches its culmination at about the seventh year of life. Then it brings forth the second teeth from the totality of force in the human organization. This event is of the most extraordinary importance in the course of human life as a whole, because it does not occur again. The forces present between birth and the seventh year reach their culmination with the appearance of the second teeth, and they do not act again within the entire course of earthly life. Now this fact should be properly understood, but it can only be understood by an unprejudiced observation of other processes that are being enacted in the human being at about this seventh year of life Up to the seventh year the human being grows and develops according to Nature-principles, as it were. The Nature-forces of growth, the being of soul and the spiritual functions have not yet separated from one another in the child's organization; they form a unity up to the seventh year. While the human being is developing his organs, his nervous system and his blood circulation, this development betokens the evolution of his soul and spirit. The human being is provided with the strong inner impulsive force which brings forth the second teeth because everything in this period of life is still interwoven. With the coming of the second teeth, this impelling force weakens. It withdraws somewhat; it does not work so strongly from out of the inner being. Why is this? Now suppose new teeth were to appear every seven years. (I will take an extreme illustration for the sake of clarity.) If the same organic forces which we bear within us up to the seventh year, if this unity formed of body, soul and spirit were to continue through the whole of life, new teeth would appear approximately every seven years! The old teeth would fall out and be replaced by new ones, but throughout our whole life we should remain children as we are up to the seventh year. We should not unfold the life of soul and spirit that is separated off from the Nature-life. The fact that the physical force decreases in the seventh year and the bodily pressure and impulses to a certain extent grow less—for the body now produces more delicate forces from itself—makes it possible for the subtler forces of soul life to develop. The body grows weaker, the soul stronger, as it were.

A similar process also takes place at puberty, in the fourteenth or fifteenth year. The element of soul now weakens to a certain extent and the spiritual functions make their appearance. So that if we take the course of the first three life-periods: up till the seventh year man is pre-eminently a being of body-soul-spirit in one, from the seventh to the fourteenth years he is a being of body-soul with a separate nature of soul and spirit, and from puberty onwards he is a threefold being, a physical being, a being of soul and a being of spirit.

This truth opens up deep vistas into the whole evolution of the human being. Indeed, without knowledge of it we really ought not to venture upon the education of children. For unless we realise the far-reaching consequences of this truth, all education must necessarily be more or less a dilettante affair.

The Greek—and this is the amazing thing—knew of this truth. To the Greek, it was an irrevocable law that when a boy had reached his seventh year he must be taken away from his parents' house, from the mere Nature-principles, the elementary necessities of upbringing. This knowledge was so deeply rooted in the Greeks that we do well to remind ourselves of it to-day. Later on, in the Middle Ages, traces of this all-important principle of education still existed.

The modern age of rationalism and intellectualism has forgotten all these things, and, indeed, even takes pride in showing that it places no value on such truths, for the child is usually required to go to school at an earlier age, before the end of the seventh year. We may say, indeed, this departure from such eternal principles of human evolution is typical of the chaos obtaining in our modern system of education. We must rise out of this chaos. The Greek placed so high a value on this truth that he based all education upon it. For all that I described yesterday was carried out in order to ground education upon this same truth.

What did the Greek see in the little child from birth to the time of the change of teeth? A being sent down to earth from spiritual heights! He saw in man a being who had lived in a spiritual world before earthly life. And as he observed the child he tried to discover whether its body was rightly expressing the divine life or pre-earthly existence. It was of importance for the Greek that in the child up to the seventh year he should recognize that a physical body is here enclosing a spiritual being who has descended. There was a terribly barbaric custom in certain regions of Greece to expose and thus kill the child who was instinctively believed to be only a sheath, and not expressing a true spiritual being in its physical nature; this was the outcome of rigid regard to the thought that the physical human being in the first seven years of life is the vesture of a divine-spiritual being.

Now when the child passes its seventh year—and this, too, was known in Greece—it descends a second stage lower. During the first seven years the child is released from the heavens, still bearing its own inherited sheaths, which are laid aside at the seventh year, for not only the first teeth but the whole body is cast off every seven years—cast off for the first time, that is to say, in the seventh year. In the first seven years of life the bodily sheaths revealed to the Greek what the forces of pre-earthly life had made out of the child. The child was thought to bear its earthly sheaths proper, its first earthly sheaths, only from about the seventh to the fourteenth years onwards.

I am trying now to express these things as they were conceived of by the highest type of Greek. He thought to himself: I reverence the Divine in the little child, hence there is no need to concern myself with it in the first seven years of life. It can grow up in the family in which the Gods have placed it. Supersensible forces from pre-earthly life are still working in it. When the seventh year is reached it behoves man himself to become responsible for the development of these forces. What must man do, then, when he knows how to pay true reverence to the Divine in the human being? What must he do as regards education? He must develop to the highest extent the human faculties that have unfolded in the child up to the seventh year. The Divine power, the way in which the spiritual expresses itself in the body—this must be developed to the greatest possible extent. Thus the Gymnast had perforce to be convinced of the necessity to understand the Divine power in the human body and to develop it in the body. The same healing, life-sustaining forces which the child possesses from pre-earthly existence, and which have been fostered in an elementary way up to the change of teeth—these must be preserved from the seventh to the fourteenth year by human insight, by human art. Further education must then proceed wholly in accordance with Nature. And so all education was ‘gymnastic’ because the divine education of the human being was seen as a ‘gymnastic.’ Man must continue the ‘divine gymnastic’ by means of education.

This was more or less the attitude of the Greek to the child. He said to himself: If through my intuition I am able to preserve in freshness and health the forces of growth which have developed in the child up to the seventh year, then I am educating in the very best way; I am enabling the forces which are there by nature up to the seventh year to remain throughout the whole of earthly life, right up to death. To see that the “child” in the human being was not lost till death—this was the great and far-reaching maxim of Greek education. The Greek teacher thought: I must see to it that these forces between the seventh and fourteenth years—the forces of childhood—remain living throughout the whole of his earthly life, right up to death. A far-reaching and deeply significant principle of education! And all gymnastic exercises were based on the perception that the forces present up to the seventh year have in no way disappeared, but are merely slumbering within the human being and must be awakened from day to day. To waken the slumbering forces between the seventh and the fourteenth years, to draw forth from the human being in this second period of life what was there by nature in the first period—this constituted Greek gymnastic education. The very glory of his culture and civilization arose from the fact that the Greek, by a right education, was at pains to preserve the ‘child’ in the human being right up to death. And when we wonder at the ‘glory that was Greece,’ we must ask ourselves: Can we imitate this ideal? We cannot, for it rests upon three factors, without which it is unthinkable.

These three factors must be remembered by the modern educationalist when he looks back to Greece. The first thing to remember is the following:—These principles of education were only applied to a small portion of mankind, to a higher class, and they presuppose the existence of slavery. Without slavery it would not have been possible to educate a small class of mankind in this way. For in order to educate thus, part of man's work on the earth fell to the lot of those who were left to their elemental human destiny, without education in the true Greek sense. Greek civilization and Greek education are alike unthinkable without the existence of slavery. And so the delight of those who look back with inner satisfaction on what Greece accomplished in the evolutionary history of mankind is tempered with the tragic realization that it was achieved at the cost of slavery. That is one factor.

The second factor is that of the whole position of woman in Greek social life. The women lived a life withdrawn from the direct impulses at the root of Greek civilization, and it was this secluded life that alone made it possible for the child to be left, up to the seventh year, to the care of the home influences, which were thereby given full scope. Without any actual knowledge, but merely out of human instincts, the child was led on by the elemental forces of growth to the time of the change of teeth. One may say it was necessary that the child's life up to this point, should, despite its different nature, proceed just as unconsciously in the wider environment of the family, detached from the mother's body, as when the embryonic life had proceeded through the forces of Nature. This was the second factor.

The third is really a paradox to modern man, but he must, none the less, grow to understand it. The second point—the position of women in Greece—is easier to understand, for we know from a superficial observation of modern life that between the Greek age and our own time women have sought to take their share in social life. This is a result of what took place during the Middle Ages. And if we still wanted to be as Greek as the Greeks were, with the interest in conscious education confined exclusively to men, I wonder how small this audience would be if it were only made up of the men who were allowed to concern themselves with education!

The third factor lies deeper down, and its nature makes it difficult for modern civilization to acknowledge that we have to attain our spiritual life by human effort, by work. Anyone who observes the spiritual activities of civilized life will be obliged to admit that as regards the most important domain of civilized life, we must count upon what we shall achieve in the future by effort. Observing all the human effort which has to be spent on the attainment of a spiritual life in present-day civilization, we look with some astonishment at the spiritual life of the ancient Greeks and especially of the ancient Orientals. For this spiritual life actually existed. A truth such as that of the part played in human life by the seventh year, a truth which modern man simply does not realise, was deeply rooted in Greece. (Outer symptoms indicate its significance but modern culture is very far from understanding it.) It was one of the mighty truths that flowed through ancient spiritual life. And we stand in wonder before this spiritual life when we learn to know what wisdom, what spiritual knowledge was once possessed by man.

If, without being confused by modern naturalistic and materialistic prejudices, we go back to early civilization, we find, at the beginning of historical life a universal, penetrating wisdom according to which man directed his life. It was not an acquired wisdom, but it flowed to mankind through revelation, through a kind of inspiration. And it is this that modern civilization will not acknowledge. It will not recognize that a primal wisdom was bestowed spiritually upon man, and that he evolved it in such a way that, for instance, even in Greece, care was still taken to preserve the ‘child’ in man until the time of earthly death. Now this revelation of primeval wisdom is no more to be found—a fact deeply connected with the whole evolution of man. Part of man's progress consists in the fact that the primal wisdom no longer comes to him without activity on his part but that he must attain to wisdom through his own efforts. This is connected in an inner sense with the growth of the impulse of human freedom which is at present in its strongest phase. The progress of humanity does not ascend, as is readily imagined, in a straight line from one stage to another. What man has to attain from out of his own being in the present age, he has to attain at the cost of losing revelation from without, revelation which locked within itself the deepest of all wisdom.

The loss of primeval wisdom, the necessity to attain wisdom by man's own labours, this is related to the third factor in Greek education. Thus we may say: Greek education may fill us with admiration but it cannot be dissociated from these three factors •; ancient slavery, the ancient position of woman, and the ancient relationship of spiritual wisdom to spiritual life. None of the three exist to-day nor would they now be considered worthy of true human existence. We are living at a time when the following question arises: How ought we to educate, realizing as we do that these three a priori conditions have been swept away by human progress? We must therefore observe the signs of the times if we desire to discover the true impulse for our modern education from inner depths.

***

The whole of the so-called mediaeval development of man which followed the civilization of Greece and has indeed come right down to modern times, proved by its very nature that in regard to education and methods of teaching, different paths had to be struck from those of Greece, which were so well-fitted to that earlier age. The nature of man had, indeed, changed. The efficacy and reliability of Greek education were an outcome of the fact that it was based upon ‘habit’—upon that which can be built into the very structure of the human body.

Up to the change of teeth in the seventh year, the development of man's being is inwardly connected with the body. The development of the bodily functions, however, proceeds as though unconsciously. Indeed it is only when the faculties work unconsciously that they are right; they are reliable only when what I have to do is implanted into the dexterity of my hands and is accomplished of itself, without need for further reflection.

When practice has become habit, then I have achieved securely what I have to achieve through my body. The real aim of Greek life was to make the whole earthly existence of man a matter of ‘habit’ in this sense. From his education onwards until his death, all man's actions were to become habitual, so habitual that it should be impossible to leave them off. For when education is based on such a principle as this, the forces which are natural to the child up to the change of teeth, up to the seventh year, can be maintained; the child forces can be maintained until earthly life ends with death.

Now what happened when through historical circumstances new peoples pouring over from the East to the West founded a new civilization during the Middle Ages, and established themselves in Middle Europe and in the West, even in America? These peoples assimilated the qualities natural to the Southern regions but their coming brought quite different habits of life to mankind. What was the result of this? It set up the conditions for a totally different kind of development, a development of the individual. In this time, for example, men came to the conscious realization that slavery ought not to be; to the realization that women must be respected. At this time it also became apparent as regards the evolution of the individual, in the period between the seventh and fourteenth year, when development is no longer of a purely bodily nature but when the soul is to a certain degree emancipated from the body that the child in this period was not now susceptible of being treated as in earlier times. In effect, the conservation of the forces of early childhood in the boy between the ages of seven and fourteen that had been practised hitherto was no longer possible.

This is the most significant phenomenon of the Middle Ages and right up to modern times so far as this second period of life is concerned. And only now for the first time do we see the powerful forces of revolt which belong to the period when the fourteenth and fifteenth years have been passed, the period during which human nature rises up most strongly in revolt, when indeed it bears within itself the forces of revolt.

How did this revolt in human nature express itself? The old primeval wisdom which flowed down naturally to the Greeks came to be in Roman and Mediaeval tradition something that was only preserved through books, through writing. Indeed it was only believed on the authority of tradition. The concept of Faith as it developed during the Middle Ages did not exist in very ancient civilizations, nor even in the culture of the Greeks. It would have been nonsense in those times. The concept of Faith only arose when the primeval wisdom no longer flowed directly into man, but was merely preserved. This still applies fundamentally to the greater part of humanity to-day. Everything of a spiritual, super-sensible nature is tradition. It is ‘believed,’ it is no longer immediate and actual. Nature and the perception of Nature this is an actuality, but all that refers to the super-sensible, to super-sensible life, is tradition. Since the Middle Ages man has given himself up to this kind of tradition, thinking at times it is true that he does in fact experience these things. But the truth is that direct spiritual knowledge and revelation came to be preserved in written form, living from generation to generation as a heritage merely on the authority of tradition. This was the outer aspect. And what of the inner aspect? Let us now look back once again to Greece. In Greece, faculties of soul developed as of themselves because the whole human being acquired habits of life whereby the ‘child’ was preserved in man till death. Music proceeded from the breathing and blood circulation, intellect from gymnastic. Without being cultivated, a marvellous memory evolved in the Greeks as a result of the development of the habits of the body. We in our age have no longer any idea of the kind of memory that arose, even among the Greeks, without being cultivated in any way, and in the ancient East this was even more significant. The body was nurtured, habits formed, and then the memory arose from the body itself. A marvellous memory was the outcome of a right culture of the body.

A living proof of the fact that we have no conception of the kind of memory possessed by the Greeks, a memory which made it so easy for the spiritual treasures to be handed down and become a common good, is the fact that shorthand writers have to attend when lectures are given which people want to remember! This would have seemed absurd in Greek civilization, for why should one wish to keep that which one has manifestly thrown away? It was all preserved truly in the memory, by the proficiency of the body. The soul developed itself out of this bodily proficiency. And because of this self-development she stood in contrast to that which had arisen from revelation—the primeval wisdom. And this primal spiritual wisdom disappeared, grew to be mere tradition. It had to be carried from generation to generation by the priesthood who preserved the traditions. And inwardly man was forced to begin to cultivate a faculty which the Greek never thought of as a necessity. In education during the Middle Ages it became more and more, necessary to cultivate the memory. The memory absorbed what had been preserved by tradition.

Thus, historical tradition outwardly and remembrance and memory inwardly, had to be cultivated by education. Memory was the first soul quality to be cultivated when the emancipation of the soul had taken place. And those who know what importance was attached to the memory in schools only a short while ago can form an opinion of how rigidly this cultivation of the memory—which was the result of an historical necessity—has been preserved.

And so through the whole of the Middle Ages education tosses like a ship that cannot balance itself in a storm, for the soul of man is the most hard of access. To the body man can gain access; he can come to terms with the spirit, but the soul is so bound up with the individuality of man that it is the most inaccessible of all.

Whether a man found the inner path to the authorities who preserved the tradition for him, whether his piety was great enough to enable him to receive the words in which the mediaeval priest-teacher inculcated the tradition into humanity, all this was an affair of the individual soul. And to cultivate the memory, without doing violence to another man's individuality, this needs a fine tact. What was necessary for the soul-culture of the Middle Ages was as much heeded by tactful men as it was ignored by the tactless. And mediaeval education swung between that which nourished the human soul and that which harmed it in its deepest being. Although men do not perceive it, very much from this mediaeval education has been preserved on into the present age.

Education during the Middle Ages assumed this character because, in the first place, the soul no longer wished to preserve the ‘child;’ for the soul itself was to be educated. And on account of the conditions of the times the soul could only be educated through tradition and memory. Between the seventh and the fourteenth years the human being is, as it were, in a certain state of flux. But the soul does not work in the same condition of security as is afforded by the bodily constitution up to the seventh year and the direction imparted by the spirit has not yet come into being. Everything is of a very intimate character, calling for piety and delicacy.

All this brought it about that for a long period of human evolution education entered upon an uncertain and indefinite course in which, while tradition and memory had to be cultivated, there were extraordinary difficulties. To-day we are living at a time when, as a result of the natural course of development, man desires a firm foundation in place of the insecurity obtaining in the Middle Ages. And this search for other foundations expresses itself in the innumerable efforts towards educational reform in our time. It is out of recognition of this fact that Waldorf School education has arisen. Waldorf School education is based upon this question: How shall we educate in a time when the revolt in the soul between the seventh and fourteenth years of life against the conservation of ‘childhood’ is still going on? How shall we educate now that man, in addition to that, has in the modern age lost even the old mediaeval connection with tradition? Outwardly man has lost his faith in tradition. Inwardly he strives to be a free being, one who at every moment shall confront life unhampered. He does not wish to stand on a memory foundation all his life long. Such is modern man, who now desires to be inwardly free of tradition and of memory. And however much certain portions of our humanity to-day would like to preserve ancient customs, this is not possible. The very existence of the many efforts for educational reform indicates that a great question is facing us. It was impossible in the Middle Ages to educate in the Greek way, and in our times education can no longer be based on tradition and memory. We have to educate in accordance with the immediate moment of life in which man enters upon earthly existence, when he, as a free being, has to make his decision out of the given factors of the moment. How, then, must we educate free human beings? That is the question which now confronts us for the first time.

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As the hour is getting late, I will bring these thoughts to a conclusion in a few words and postpone until tomorrow's lecture the consideration of the methods of education that are necessary at the present day.

In Greek education, the Gymnast must be recognized as one who preserved the forces of childhood on into the second period of life between the seventh and the fourteenth or fifteenth years. The ‘child’ must be preserved, so said the Greeks. The forces of childhood must remain in the human being up to the time of earthly death; these forces must be conserved. It was the task of the Greek educator, the Gymnast, to develop the fundamental nature, the inherited fundamental nature of the child in his charge, on into the period between the seventh and the fourteenth years of life. It was his task to understand these forces out of his spiritual wisdom and to conserve them. Evolution in the Middle Ages went beyond this, and, as a result, our present age developed. Only now does the position of a modern man within the social order become a matter of consciousness. This fact of conscious life can only come into being after the age of puberty has been reached, after the fourteenth or fifteenth year. Then there appears in the human being something which I shall have repeatedly to describe in the following lectures as the consciousness of inner freedom in the being of man. Then, indeed, man ‘comes to himself.’ And if, as it sometimes happens to-day, human beings believe themselves to have reached this consciousness before the fourteenth or fifteenth years, before the age of puberty, this is only an aping of later life. It is not a fundamental fact. It was this fundamental fact, which appears after the age of puberty, that the Greek purposely sought to avoid in the development of the individual man. The intensity with which he invoked Nature, the child, into human existence, darkened and obscured full experience of this glimpse of consciousness after puberty. The human being passed in dimmed consciousness through this imprisoned ‘Nature,’ this reality. The historical course of human evolution, however, is such that this is no longer possible. This conscious urge would burst forth with elemental, volcanic force after the age of puberty if attempts were made to hold it back.

During what we call the elementary school age, that is to say, between the seventh and fourteenth years, the Greek had to take into consideration the earliest Nature-life of the child. We in our day have to take account of what follows puberty, of that which will be experienced after puberty in full human consciousness by the boy or girl. We may no longer suppress this into a dreamlike obscurity as did the Greeks, even the highest type of Greek, even Plato and Aristotle, who, in consequence, accepted slavery as a self-evident necessity. Because education was of such a kind that it obscured this all-important phenomenon of human life after puberty, the Greek was able to preserve the forces of early childhood into the period of life between the seventh and fourteenth years.

We must be prophets of future humanity if we would educate in the right way. The Greek could rely upon instinct, for his task was to conserve the foundations laid by Nature. We, as educationalists, must be able to develop intuitions. We must anticipate all human qualities if we would become true educators, true teachers. For the essential thing in our education will be to give the child, between its seventh and fourteenth years something which, when the consciousness characteristic of the human being has set in, it can so remember that with inner satisfaction and assent it looks back upon that which we have implanted within its being. We educate in the wrong way to-day if, later on, when the child has gone out into life, it can no longer look back on us and say, “Yes!”

Thus there must arise teachers with intuition, teachers who enter once again upon the path along which the spiritual world and spiritual life can be attained by man, who can give the child between the seventh and fourteenth years all those things to which it can look back in later life with satisfaction. The Greek teacher was a preserver. He said: All that lived within the child in earlier life slumbers within him after the seventh year, and this I must awaken. Of what nature must our education be to enable us to implant in the age of childhood that which later on will awaken of itself in the free human being? We have to lead an education into the future. This makes it necessary that in our present epoch the whole situation of education must be different from what it was in the past. In Greece, education arose as the result of a surrender to the facts of Nature. It was a fact of Nature which, as it were, played into human life, but as a result of the whole of life up to our time, it has worked itself cut of its natural foundations.

As teachers in schools, this is what we must realize: We must offer to the child before us something to which it may be able to cry “Yes!” when in later life it awakens to independent consciousness. The child must not only love us during schooldays, but afterwards too, finding this love for us justified by mature judgment. Otherwise education is only a half-education—therefore weak and ineffective. When we are conscious of this we shall realize to what a great extent education and instruction from being a fact of Nature that plays into the human being must also become a moral fact.

This is the deep inner struggle waged by those who from their innermost being have some understanding of the form which education must assume. They feel this, and it is expressed in the question: How can we ourselves transform education for the free human being into a free act in the very highest sense, that is to say, into a moral act? How can education become out and out a moral concern of mankind? This is the great problem before us to-day, and it must be solved if the most praiseworthy efforts towards educational reform are to be rightly directed on into the future.

In the talk on the great initiates fourteen days ago, I allowed to myself to point to the fact that the great initiates are basically the supporters of the future ideals of humanity and that their force, their mode of operation consists in the fact that they entail as their secret, have taken up as their mystery and put it into the ideals in an appropriate way what becomes obvious to the whole remaining humanity only in future. So that the idealism of humanity, the future ideals of our race are expressions of the masters' profound knowledge of the big spiritual world principles. I pronounced at that time that the theosophical ideals which come from the masters themselves differ from the ideals in life and that they come from a real knowledge of the principles of nature and not possibly from sensations such like: it should be that way, it is right that way et etcetera

At that time, I pointed to the fact that this is not prophecy in the bad sense of the word. It is a kind of indication of the future as we have it also in the natural sciences. As well as we exactly know from the knowledge of the material laws of hydrogen and oxygen that they combine under certain conditions and yield water, it is also with the spiritual laws, so that we can say which the ideals of the human future are. The developmental law leads the human being into the future. The initiate has to consciously get out of the knowledge of the big world principles what he wants for the future. This was one indication of the present talk given already fourteen days ago. The other indication I gave in the talk about Ibsen's attitude. I showed how Ibsen points brilliantly to the configuration of the personality in our time and how he characterises what has developed in our time and that he points to something higher that overcomes the personality what we call individuality in theosophy.

We stand actually at a turning point today. The great results of natural science have shown us how on one side the materialistic observation has brought the biggest fruits, how Darwinism and materialism extend into our time and we have to thank to them for a big cultural progress; but on the other side that also currents assert themselves preparing the future. New ideals arise just in the most excellent spirits. Indeed, these spirits who point to a distant future are not the so-called practical spirits, but the world history advances differently than the practical people fancy it. I have pointed to a pillar of idealism, to Tolstoy before. Today, however, I would still like to point to a western spirit, to Keely (John Ernst Worrell K., 1827–1898, inventor of a motor, based on “vibratory energy”), the great mechanic who furthers us although his mechanical idea is not yet a practical one. Some questions are connected with it which may appear fantastic to the materialist. But at the same time we want to get to know an idealism that is of another type than that of the everyday life. It is the same that lived in the mysteries once. What we spread today in popular talks lived up to the foundation of the Theosophical Society in 1875 in the so-called secret schools. I have pointed to the Rosicrucians repeatedly; also to the fact that one can scholarly find nothing about the real secrets of the Rosicrucians. Goethe was in close contact with the Rosicrucians; in his poem The Secrets he expressed this clearly. We have taken all that from the past talks.

We want to occupy ourselves with those big world laws which were announced in the mysteries as the world laws of the future, as those world laws which the human being has to conform to unless he wants to blunder into future in the darkness, but that he is aware to face these or those future events as well as the naturalist who goes to the laboratory knows that if he mixes certain substances and combines them, he receives certain results. This, explained popularly, can be heard only since 1875, since the foundation of the Theosophical Society. That is why it cannot surprise us that the academic literature contains nothing of these ideals of the future.

Now the question could arise, and this question has often been put: Are these the unworldly idealists generally who are apparently far away from any practise, who think out the thoughts of future, which support life, first in their heads? Can they be these? Has life not to be born from practise? Nevertheless, they spin out thoughts only, they are daydreamers, and want to bear the future? Only somebody who knows how one has to use the things of the everyday life is able to intervene, and it is to him to intervene in the practical life. Let me pick out examples of the pragmatist and the idealist as a small intermezzo and show that the pragmatists did not cause the great and real progress, but that these were the theorists who created from the plenty of ideas and also brought about the future in the everyday life.

Take the discoveries of the 19th century. Wherever we go we can find nothing that does not remind us of the steam power, of the telegraph, of the telephone, of the postal system, of the railway et etcetera But no practitioner has invented the railway. How have the pragmatists faced up to it? An example: when in Germany the first railways should be built, when the railway should be led from Berlin to Potsdam, this made a lot of brainwork to the Prussian Postmaster General von Nagler (1770–1846). He said: I send six to seven mail coaches to Potsdam a day which are not even completely used. Instead of building a railway there, they should rather pour money down the drain. The vote of the Bavarian medical board which was asked about the medical effect of the railway was approximate in such a way: one should build no railways, because people could thereby cause serious impairments to themselves. If one built them, however, one should raise wooden walls at both sides at least, so that those who pass do not become dizzy by the sight of the rapid trains. This was in 1830.

Another example is the postage stamp. Rowland Hill (1795–1879), a private citizen in England, had this idea first, not a practitioner of the postal system. When in the parliament in London this proposal should be negotiated, the chief post official argued that the post-office buildings would be too small because of the increasing mail dispatch, and one had to answer to the practitioner that the post-office buildings had to comply with the traffic and not vice versa the traffic with the post-office buildings. The telephone is also no invention of a practitioner. It was invented by the teacher Philipp Reis (1834–1874) in Frankfurt on the Main. Then it is developed further by Graham Bell (1847–1922), a teacher of deaf-mute. It was invented by real theorists. This was also the case of the electromagnetic telegraph. It was invented by two scholars, by Gauss (Carl Friedrich G., 1777–1855, mathematician) and Weber (Wilhelm Eduard W., 1804–1891, physicist) in Göttingen.

With some great examples I wanted to show that never the practitioners were those who brought the real progress of humanity. The practitioners cannot assess what belongs to the future. They are the real conservatives who counter all kinds of obstacles to any thought concerning the future. One can feel a certain accentuation of the exclusive skill and sense of authority so easily with the practitioners.

I said this in advance to show that the ideals do not arise from the practical, but are supported by those who are imbued with a higher spiritual reality. However, this was only an intermezzo.

You remember the lecture about the origin of the human being where we as theosophists ascribed a very early origin to humanity. We search for this origin much farther back than the scientific documents can lead us. May it seem fantastic that this origin was traced back up to the separation of the earth from sun and moon: somebody who becomes engrossed in the method which theosophy makes available finds that these are no fantastic ideas, but concrete realities like the tables and chairs in this room. Who becomes engrossed in the laws of the past that way and sharpens his look with the spiritual development at the same time can get to know the laws from the knowledge of the past which belong neither to the past, nor to the present, nor to the future, but to the all-time. If one has brought it so far that he has attained the initiation up to the degree which I have characterised in the talk on the great initiates, then the world laws appear before the spiritual look, world laws according to which the development takes place which need, however, the human being to be realised. Just as the chemist has to mix the substances first to let play the laws of nature, the human being has also to mix the substances to help the big world laws to the road of success. On the basis of such world laws, two matters should occupy us today: the distant future at which we look so that we do not keep to the few historic millennia and a short interval if we see into the future with the everyday look.

We want to see into in the more distant future as we have seen into in the distant past. We also want to understand our task in the future from the theosophical point of view. We have seen that another humanity preceded our present humanity. We went back to the older races which lived under other living conditions and with other abilities. The task of our race is to develop the inferring reason. While we have the logical thinking, counting and calculating, that which enables us to get to know the laws of the external physical nature and to use them in technology and industry, it was substantially different with the Atlantean race.

Memory was the basic force of this race. The present human being can hardly imagine which extent memory had with the Atlanteans. They could count only a little. Everything was based on the connection which they formed by memory. For example, they knew three times seven by memory, but they could not calculate that. They knew no multiplication tables. Another force which was developed with them but is to be understood even more difficultly was that they had a certain influence on the life-force itself. By a particular development of the willpower they could win an immediate influence over the living, for example, over the growth of a plant.

If we go back even farther, we come to a continent which we call Lemuria. The natural sciences admit this continent which was at the position of the present Indian Ocean, although they do not assume human beings but lower mammals as population on it.

We get to quite different stages of development now. Who has followed the lecture about the earth evolution some weeks ago knows that we get to a period when the human being was still a hermaphrodite, when the single being was male and female at the same time. In myths and legends, this original hermaphroditism was still preserved in the consciousness of the peoples. The Greeks originally regarded Zeus as hermaphrodite. One said that he was a beautiful man and a beautiful maiden at the same time. In the Greek mysteries the hermaphrodite human being still loomed large; he was put as a unity of the human being. The uni-sexual human being originated from the process I have described. We follow up the process as it represents itself to the seer in the worlds which give an insight into these matters by the means of practical mysticism to be explained another time.

If we follow up the human being in such a way, we see that he goes through that again now only consciously which he already completed unconsciously in former periods. We meet the human being at that time in such a way that his external material cover is thin. At that time, the earth was still in a high temperature state. The substances entered and went out of the human being; it was like a kind of inhaling and exhaling. He lived that way without perception moving through the senses; like pictures surging up and down as with the dreamer, the sensory impressions passed him by. If such a human being who was basically a soul human approached an object or being dreamily, clairvoyantly, he could not perceive this object or this being with the eyes, he could not smell the smell, but he approached the being, and it was by a force which I cannot further describe today that a vision rose in him. A world in his soul answered to the outside events. It was approximate in such a way, as if you have a clock before you, and you do not perceive the clock but the ticking of the clock.

Or you topple a chair in sleep and dream of a duel. This is chaotic today, so that it has no significance for us. However, this must be transformed again to clairvoyance, and then it has significance again. If you approached a human being in those days who had a bad emotion in himself, a picture rose in your soul that had dark colour nuances and was a reflection but not a perception of the external reality. The pleasant relation was reflected with bright nuances. Only by the fact that the human being received the gates of the senses the soul pictures changed into perception. He connected his ability to form colour pictures with the outer reality. The physicist says today that nothing else exists than the vibration of matter, and colour is the answer of the soul to vibrations. When the human eye was developed, the human being moved that on the outer objects which surged up and down as pictures in the soul. Everything that he perceived of his surroundings was basically nothing else than a spread of the soul pictures across the outer world.

In the further development the human being penetrates the higher worlds consciously and not in fugue states where he perceives the soul-world around him. Nothing else is initiation than developing up to this level. What the mystic can already develop today by certain methods in himself is developed in future with all human beings. This is the nature of the initiate that he already develops what is revealed to all human beings in future, and that he can at least indicate the direction of the future ideals of humanity. The ideals of the initiates thereby have a value that the unconscious ideals can never have. Then the human being moves between the soul things as he moves between tables and chairs today. Again and again I would like to emphasise that it is necessary for that who himself wants to advance to this level that he is absolutely firm concerning the developmental stage of humanity on which it stands now: He must be a person who is able to differentiate between speculative fiction and reality. Nobody can come to the higher world who indulges every fantasy but only somebody who stands firmly on the point of view of development which humanity has attained.

Another state is that in which the human being starts spiritually beholding or rather hearing what constitutes the deepness, the nature of the things. This is the so-called inner word where the things themselves say what they are. As well as only the human beings themselves can say to us what they are, there is an inner essentiality of all things. We cannot recognise this inner essentiality of the things with the reason, we have to creep into the things, become one with the things. We are able to do this only with the mind. We must combine with the things spiritually. The world thereby becomes that sounding world of which Goethe speaks and which I have often stated so that the human being rises to the higher regions, to the spiritual world or devachan; to that world in which the human being stays between death and a new birth. These are the worlds between death and a new birth.

Our earth is in its fourth cycle or in its fourth round. It has three rounds behind it. Three following rounds develop higher capabilities of the human being. What I have just described forms soon; and the principal race which follows ours has substantially different qualities. In the middle of that period it produces a human race which does not penetrate the physical world as deeply as ours and which casts off the uni-sexuality and becomes hermaphrodite. Then it will higher develop, until the development concludes. This will be in the astral. Then it will go through two cycles again. humanity has still to complete three such cycles. But we can only touch the next two ones.

We have to get the task of the present human cycle clear in our mind at first. We progress best of all if we put the question to ourselves: what task does the human being have on earth with his inferring reason? Clairvoyance and clairaudience are states that belong to former and later states of development. The human being now has the task to stand firmly in the physical life, so that humanity can get its goal. Theosophy should not lead us away from the physical basis; theosophy rises from the physical earth because it is also the expression of the astral and spiritual worlds. We do not want to lead to anything uncertain, unclear, we do not want to lead away from the physical reality, but we want to lead this physical reality to the right understanding, to the right comprehension. What stands behind the physical reality points to the task of the human being in the present cycle of development.

Consider what happens now. We call the present cycle the mineral one because the human being deals with the mineral world. The naturalist says: we cannot yet understand the plant world and considers the plant as a sum of mineral processes. He proceeds also with the animal that way. Even if this is a caricature of a world view, nevertheless, something forms the basis of the thing. He combines with his reason what is side by side in space and one after the other in time. Everywhere it is the reason which works on the dead, on the unliving and composes the parts. Begin with the machine and lead it up to a piece of art: the human being has this task in the present cycle of development, and he will complete it, so that he transforms the whole earth into his piece of art.

This is the task which the human being has for the future. As long as one atom is there which the human being has not worked through with his forces, the human task on earth is not yet completed. Who pursues the newest progress of electricity knows how the naturalist can have a look at the smallest parts of the mineral world because he controls the electric force still almost unknown fifty years ago. His task is to transform the unliving into a big piece of art. Hence, pieces of art existed long before the historical times, long before the Egyptians. Pursue this, and you understand that the present cycle signifies the spiritualisation of the whole mineral nature. Already the sensible naturalist says to us that it is not inconceivable according to our present knowledge that a time comes when the human beings are able to go even deeper into the nature of the material. This is a certain future perspective.

To those who have occupied themselves with physics a principle is memorable: future prospects are obtained because a big part of our technical work is performed applying heat, by conversion of heat to work. The theorist of heat shows us that always only a certain part of heat can be transformed into work or into that what is technically useful. If you heat a vapour machine, you cannot use all heat to create forces of locomotion. Imagine now that always heat is used for the work but a part of heat cannot be converted into work and remains behind. This is the state of heat which the heat engineer, the theorist of heat can show as a kind of death of our physical earth. There someone argues who occupies himself with the phenomena of life that then possibly the point in time may have come that life itself intervenes: that living machinery which masters the molecules and atoms quite differently with which we move our arm and set the brain in motion. This force could be able to work deeper on the material nature than the forces of transformation we know today.

This shows you an outlook that is not only a picture but something concrete and real for the clairvoyant who can pursue the spirit of development: He sees the whole earth transforming itself to a work of art. If this is achieved, then the human being has no longer anything to do in the mineral world, then he becomes free from all sides, then he can freely move, his soul does no longer stumble against the objects. This is the time when the earth enters the so-called astral state. As today already the engineer masters the outside world if he produces the machine which is filled with his mind, it is also with the human being. All that is there is the immediate product of his actions. We do not need to perceive what is our action what we ourselves formed. The senses have transformed themselves, and the astral state enters. This is the outlook: the mineral world stops with our earth cycle. Hence, we call the next cycle which the human being will finish, the cycle of plant existence. The whole earth will have cast off its mineral nature, and the human being will intervene like now with the mind in the mineral in the living with his soul-force. Then he will be the master of the plant world on a higher level, as he is now master of the mineral world. Then we get to that stage when the human being lives on a quite lively earth. However, we want to take this picture only as an approximate one; we want to be content to have obtained an outlook of the next cycle.

With it you have seen that the human being is on a course that leads him to another state absolutely different from ours that in him forces of such a kind are that can take on quite different forms in future. However, at the same time for somebody, who understands this, a feeling, a sensation combines with it which is basic for our whole life: what does the human being become if we consider him as a spring of such future forces? We face the human being quite differently about whom we know that the seed of this future human being slumbers in him. There our attitude toward him changes into the feeling that we have any human being as an unsolved riddle before ourselves. Deeper and deeper we would want to descend into the layers of the human nature because we know that they entail such deep things.

The theories are not important, even not that anybody imagines the plant cycle, but that we be in awe of any human individuality. Facing the human being as a god, who wants to leave his cover, we have understood something of the theosophical life, the theosophical life matters and not the theories. If we have certain ideas which show us what the human being can become and what he contains in himself, then our heart fills with that true love of the divine human being that the theosophical world view wants to accomplish. If we think it that way, we only understand the first principle of the Theosophical Society: forming the core of a brotherhood without differentiating sex, colour and denomination. What do these differences mean here?

You probably keep on asking: which significance have these images of humanity? How does this great ideal relate to our tasks? Is it not anything that belongs to a cloud-cuckoo-land, because it belongs to a future we do not experience? The human being has to utilise what he develops in himself. It is not without reason whether he lives on with the feelings, which I have just explained, or whether he lives into future only touching in the dark. Just as the plant bears the seed in itself of that which it is next year, the human being has to bear his future as a seed in himself. He can make this seed not full enough of content, not big enough. This applies also in the present. Since you have occupied yourselves with the social ideals and the plans for the near future of humanity, you know that almost anybody who reflects it has his own social ideal.

You ask yourselves if you look deeper into these matters: why do these ideals have so little power of persuasion? All the matters do not work and do not fit together. Both those who try to establish ideals of the future in a utopian way and those who want to do it with practical reason are not able to get to really great and radical points of view. All the social ideas, even the belief of big comprehensive world parties one can state this from profound points of view which are pronounced out of the consciousness of the sensuous world will never have any practical value. After fifty years, people will be surprised of these figments of imagination. The social ideal cannot be invented. Our thoughts or that which we obtain from our opinions, from our reason cannot form the basis of any social ideal. One has just to say: no social theory, whatsoever it may be, is fit to serve the welfare of humanity.

However, that is hard to verify. On the other side, consider the point in time in which we stand: The present has formed the personality. The personality is the characteristic, the significant of the human being. All the other differentiations, even that of man and woman, are overcome there. There is only the personality without any differentiation. We keep this in mind that humanity had to go through this point and that theosophy calls this personality lower manas: this is the power of thinking relating to the immediate world. The human being is a personality as far as he belongs to the sensuous world, and his combining reason belongs to the sensuous world, too. We have to raise everything to a higher stage that the human being can think with his reason and raises his personality if we want to understand it in its true being. That is why we also make a distinction between personality and individuality, between lower and higher manas. What is, actually, this lower manas?

Take the difference that exists between a modern human being and a simple barbarian who grinds the grains between two stones to prepare flour, and bakes bread then from it et etcetera With a very small expense of mental force the barbarian manages what fulfils his bodily needs. But civilisation advances, and what do we do basically in our time? We telegraph to America and let the same products come which the barbarian ground himself. All the technical understanding, what else is it than a detour to satisfy the animal needs? Still consider whether the reason accomplishes a lot of other things than to satisfy the everyday bodily needs. Does the reason become, therefore, anything higher, while it constructs ships, railways, telephones et etcetera if it produces nothing else than things to satisfy the everyday needs of the human being?

The reason is only a detour and does not lead out of the sensory world. Where, however, the spiritual world illumines this world: in the great works of art, in the original ideas which exceed the everyday needs, or where something of theosophy shines, then the human mind does not become only a manufacturer of that which is around it, but then it is a channel through which the spirit flows into the world. It brings something productive into this world. Every single human being is a channel through which a spiritual world pours forth. As long as the human being only seeks for the satisfaction of his needs, he is a personality. If he exceeds that, he is an individuality. We can find this spring only in the single individual; the human being is the mediator between the spiritual and sensory worlds, the human being mediates between both. This is the double way we can face the human being.

As personalities we all are on a par: the reason is developed somewhat less with the one somewhat more with the other. But that does not apply to the individuality. There the human being becomes a particular character; there everybody brings in something particular for his mission. If I want to know what he has to do as a personality in the world, what he can be on account of his genuineness as individuality, and then I have to wait, until through this channel something pours into this world from the spiritual world. If this influence is expected to take place, we have to regard every human being as an unsolved riddle. Through any single individuality the original spiritual force flows towards us.

As long as we consider the human being as a personality, we can control him: if we speak of general duties and rights, we speak of the personality. If we speak, however, of the individuality, we cannot squeeze the human being into a form; he must be the support of his genuineness. The human beings who live out their individualities know what humanity experiences in ten years. I am not allowed for my part to determine the child whom I educate, but I have to start from its mysterious inside that is quite unknown to me. If we want a social order, the single individualities must co-operate, and then everybody must be able to develop in his freedom. If we establish a social ideal, we bind this personality to this place, that personality to that place. The sum of that what exists is simply thrown together: however, nothing new comes into the world. Therefore, individualities have to go in; the great individualities must throw in their impact. There must be not laws, social programs from ideals of reason, but social brotherly attitude has to originate.

Only one social attitude can help us, the attitude that we face every being as individuality. We have always to realise that every human being has something to say to us. Every human being has something to say to us. We do need a social attitude, not social programs. This is absolutely real and practical. It is something that one can express in this talk, and it is that which theosophy establishes as a great future ideal. With it theosophy gains an immediate practical significance. If theosophy enters life, we give up squeezing everything into rules and regulations; we give up judging by norms, we accept the human being as a free and individual human being.

Then we realise that we fulfil our task if we put the right person to the right place. We do no longer ask: is he the best teacher who masters the teaching substance best, but we ask: which human being is he? One has to develop a fine feeling, maybe a clairvoyant talent whether the human being in question is with his being at his right place whether he is as a human being on his place. Somebody can understand his subjects of instruction completely; he can be a mine of information but unfit to teach, because he does not know what streams out of the human being what elicits the individuality of the other human being. Not until we refrain from rules and regulations and ask which human being is he, and put the best human being to the place where he is needed, we fulfil the ideals in ourselves which theosophy has brought. Somebody can also know a lot as a doctor but, nevertheless, it is crucial in the end facing the sick person which human being the doctor is. If theosophy intervenes directly in life, it must be that way.

Answer to Question

Question: What do you think of Dr. Eugen Heinrich Schmitt (1851–1916, philosopher)?

He faces theosophy friendly, has written something about theosophy, after he had published the writing about the secret of Hegel's dialectic. However, his way of thinking is an overly mathematical one, it is too constructive-mathematical, and is not enough based on observation. His way of thinking is also not enough tolerant toward other views.

Question: Where from do we know anything of the Atlanteans and Lemurians?

From the Akasha Chronicle. These are traces which any action leaves behind and which one can read long times backward. This Akasha Chronicle is absolutely a reality for that who can read it. However, it is difficult to read, and, besides, one is easily exposed to mistakes. To give an approximate idea of it the following may be said. If I speak here, the word fills the airspace. The oscillations correspond to the words. Who could not hear my words, but would be able to study the oscillations of the air, would be able to construct my words from the oscillations.

In the air these oscillations remain only a short time. In the astral substance, however, they survive longer. If the human being lives as a dreaming in such a way as the human being lives in the external reality, he can also see the psychic in the outer reality, he can also pursue the earth origin up to the astral origin of the earth. If the human being has attained the continuity of consciousness, and if he has this continuing consciousness during the night in the dream, he can see the concatenation of worlds, their origin and decay.

Question: What do you think of Karl Marx and his work?

What Karl Marx performed, applies to the time from the 16-th century till this day. It encloses the time of the emerging modern economic life and the developing industrialism. As far as production, consumption and what is connected with it is considered, theosophy can agree with Marx. However, the mistake which the Marxist makes is that he attributes everything to class struggle. It is a misunderstanding of the facts. The human being patterns, not the surroundings, not the relations of production. Can anybody state that the invention of the differential calculus depended on the relations of production? Certainly not. What has been performed, however, with the help of the differential calculus?

Question: Can a theosophist be a social democrat?

Yes, if he is also a theosophist with every step. Everybody has to decide for himself whether the social-democratic party is the desirable for the next time,

Question: Which task has art concerning the spiritual development of humanity?

The same as other activities. It helps to transform the whole world into a work of art, although also the single piece of art passes. However, we can ask whether these single pieces of art have no significance, and then we must say from the theosophical point of view that two things are to be considered with such a piece of art:

First the piece of art in space and secondly the force of the human being which had an effect. The force of the human being is the remaining. Art is something that has a still much higher significance.

Question: How does theosophy position itself to the Last Judgement and to the eternal punishments?

There are no eternal punishments in the theosophical view. There are only stages of development, karmic effects. However, the Last Judgement has a different significance. It signifies a certain point in time of that round I have spoken of in the talk. In this round the human being attains a certain level where he no longer gets any external impulse where he has overcome the sensuous completely where he has spiritualised the mineral-physical. What he has gained in the spiritual life appears as his tendency appears in the spirit. Hence, his tendency will be expressed in the external figure. The human being will carry that external figure which he himself has formed by his karma. The Last Judgement signifies nothing else than that this is impressed to everybody what he has in his soul. The human being can today hide what lives in his soul, then, however, this will no longer be the case.

Question: How does patriotism harmonise with the general brotherhood?

Patriotism is justified on a certain stage of development. What we put as the ideal of brotherliness is something bridging over. Both are compatible with each other. The activity of reason can have also individual moments, and because we mull over the individuality a certain moment happens there. Not any human being has his own logic, because the logic is something universal, nothing individual. However, these activities of reason take on an individual colouring. But the reason is not the individual.

Question: Why can a madman not control himself?

The madman is physically ill at first. The opposite of being mad is called being prudent that is to be able to harmonise his inner life with the surroundings. Who is not able to produce this harmony seems to be mad. If you wanted to behave on Mars as on earth, you would be a Martian madman.

Question: What do you think of the American books about hypnotism, magnetism?

What has a real significance is not to be found in these books. For the rest, these matters often are disadvantageous concerning health and in other ways as well. I can only advise against such matters the sharpest from the theosophical point of view.

Question: Has Christ really lived hundred years before the year one?

I stand here on the orthodox point of view. Others have made a mistake there to my way of thinking.

[ 1 ] Knowledge of the spiritual science presented in this book can be acquired by every human being for himself. Descriptions of the kind given here present a thought-picture of the higher worlds and they are in a certain respect the first step towards personal vision. For man is a thinking being. He can find his path to knowledge only when thinking is his starting-point. A picture of the higher worlds presented to his intellect is not fruitless for him, even if for the time being it is only like a narration of higher facts into which he has as yet no insight through his own vision. For the thoughts which are given him represent in themselves a force which works on further in his world of thought. This force will be active in him; it will awaken slumbering capacities. A man who is of the opinion that it is superfluous to occupy himself with such a thought-picture is mistaken; for he regards thought as something unreal and abstract. But thought is a living force. And just as in one who has knowledge thought is present as a direct expression of what is seen in the spirit, so the communication of this expression works in him to whom it is communicated as a seed, which brings forth from itself the fruit of knowledge.

Anyone disdaining the application of strenuous intellectual exertion in the effort to attain higher knowledge, and preferring to turn to other forces for that end, fails to take into account that thinking is the highest of the faculties possessed by man in the world of the senses.

To one who asks, “How can I gain personal knowledge of the higher truths of spiritual science?” the answer must be given, “Begin by making yourself acquainted with what is communicated by others concerning such knowledge.” And should he reply, “I want to see for myself; I do not want to know anything about what others have seen,” the answer must be: “It is in the very assimilating of the communications of others that the first step towards personal knowledge consists.” And if he should retort: “Then I am compelled first of all to have blind faith,” one can only reply that in regard to some communications it is not a case of belief or disbelief, but merely of unprejudiced assimilation. The genuine spiritual investigator never speaks with the expectation of being met with blind credulity. He merely says, “I have experienced this in the spiritual regions of existence and I am narrating these experiences of mine.” But he knows too, that the assimilation of these experiences by another and the fact that the thoughts of that other person are permeated by the account are living forces making for spiritual development.

[ 2 ] What is here to be considered, will only be rightly viewed by one who takes into account the fact that all knowledge of the worlds of soul and spirit slumbers in the depths of the human soul. It can be brought to light through treading the “path of knowledge.” But there can be insight not only into what one has oneself brought to light, but also into what someone else has brought up from the depths of the soul; and that, moreover, even when no actual preparation has yet been made for the treading of that path of knowledge. Genuine spiritual insight awakens the power of understanding in anyone whose inner nature is not clouded by preconceptions and prejudices. The unconscious knowledge rises to meet the spiritual facts discovered by another. This is not blind credulity but the right working of healthy human reason. This healthy comprehension should be considered a far better starting-point even for first-hand cognition of the spiritual world, than dubious mystical “experiences” and the like, which are often imagined to be more valuable than what healthy human understanding can recognise when confronted with the findings of genuine spiritual research.

[ 3 ] It cannot be emphasised strongly enough how necessary it is for anyone who wishes to develop his faculties for higher knowledge to undertake strenuous efforts to cultivate his powers of thinking. This emphasis must be all the stronger because many people who would become “seers” place too little value on this earnest, self-denying labour of thinking. They say, “Thinking cannot help me to reach anything; what really matters is ‘feeling’ or something similar.” In reply it must be said that no one can in the higher sense (and that means in truth) become a “seer” who has not previously worked his way into the life of thought. In the case of many people a certain inner laziness plays an injurious role. They do not become conscious of this laziness because it clothes itself in contempt for “abstract thought,” “idle speculations,” and the like. But thinking is completely misunderstood, if it is confused with a spinning of idle, abstract trains of thought. This “abstract thinking” can easily kill supersensible knowledge; live and vigorous thinking can become its foundation.

It would of course be more convenient if the power of higher seership could be acquired while shunning the labour of thinking. Many would like this to be possible. But in order to achieve higher seership an inner stability is necessary, an assurance of soul to which thinking alone can lead. Otherwise there merely results a meaningless flickering of pictures hither and thither, a distracting display of phenomena which indeed gives pleasure, but has nothing to do with a true penetration into higher worlds. Further, if we consider what purely spiritual experiences take place in a man who really enters the higher world, we shall realise that the matter has also another aspect. Absolute healthiness of the life of soul is essential in a “seer.” There is no better means of developing this healthiness than genuine thinking. In fact this health of soul may suffer seriously if the exercises for higher development are not based on thinking. Although it is true that the power of spiritual sight makes a healthy and rightly thinking man still healthier and more capable in life than he is without it, it is equally true that all attempts to develop while shirking the effort of thought, all vague dreamings in this domain, lend strength to fantasy-hunting and encourage a false attitude to life. No one who wishes to acquire higher knowledge has anything to fear if he pays heed to what is said here; but the attempt should only be made under the above premise. This premise has to do only with man's soul and spirit; to speak of any kind of injurious influence upon the bodily health is absurd.

[ 4 ] Unfounded disbelief is indeed injurious. It works in the recipient as a repelling force. It hinders him from taking in the fruitful thoughts. Not blind faith, but the reception of the thought-world of spiritual science, is the pre-requisite for the development of the higher senses. The spiritual investigator approaches his pupil with the injunction: “You are not to believe what I tell you but think it out yourself, make it part of the contents of your own thought-world; then my thoughts will themselves bring it about that you recognise them in their truth.” This is the attitude of the spiritual investigator. He gives the stimulus; the power to accept it as true springs from within the recipient himself. And it is in this sense that the views of spiritual science should be studied. Anyone who steeps his thoughts in them may be sure that sooner or later they will lead him to vision of his own.

[ 5 ] What has been said here already indicates one of the first qualities which everyone wishing to attain vision of higher realities has to develop in himself. It is the unreserved, unprejudiced surrender to what is revealed by human life or by the world external to man. If from the outset a man approaches a fact in the world bringing with him judgment originating in his life hitherto, he shuts himself off through this judgment from the calm, all-round effect which the fact can have on him. The learner must be able at each moment to make himself a perfectly empty vessel into which the new world flows. Knowledge arises only in those moments when every criticism coming from ourselves is silent. For example, when we meet a person, the question is not at all whether we are wiser than he. Even the most unintelligent child has something to reveal to the greatest sage. And if he approaches the child with his prejudgment, however wise it may be, his wisdom thrusts itself like a dulled glass in front of what the child ought to reveal to him.¹

Complete inner selflessness is necessary for this surrender to the revelations of the new world. And if a man test himself to find out in what degree he has this power of surrender, he will make astonishing discoveries. Anyone who wishes to tread the path of higher knowledge must train himself to be able to obliterate himself, together with all his preconceptions at any and every moment. As long as he obliterates himself the other flows into him. Only a high degree of such selfless surrender enables a man to imbibe the higher spiritual realities which surround him on all sides. This faculty can be consciously developed. A man can try for example to refrain from any judgment on people around him. He should obliterate within himself the gauge of attraction and repulsion, of stupidity or cleverness, which he is accustomed to apply, and try without this gauge to understand people purely through themselves. The most effective exercises can be made in connection with people for whom he has an aversion. He should suppress this aversion with all his might and allow everything that they do to affect him without bias. Or, if he is in an environment that calls for this or that judgment, he should suppress the judgment and lay himself open to the impressions.²

He should allow things and events to speak to him rather than speak about them. And this should also extend to his thought-world. He should suppress in himself whatever prompts this or that thought and allow only what is outside to give rise to the thoughts. Only when such exercises are carried out with the most solemn earnestness and perseverance do they lead to the goal of higher knowledge. He who undervalues such exercises knows nothing of their worth. And he who has experience in such things knows that selfless surrender and freedom from prejudice are true generators of power. Just as heat conducted to the steam boiler is transformed into the motive power of the locomotive, so do these exercises in selfless spiritual self-surrender transform themselves in man into the power of vision in the spiritual worlds.

[ 6 ] By this exercise a man makes himself receptive to everything that surrounds him. But to this receptivity must be added the faculty of correct estimation. As long as a man is still inclined to value himself too highly at the expense of the world around him, he bars all access to higher knowledge. One who in face of each thing or event in the world yields himself up to the pleasure or pain which they cause him, is enmeshed in this over-valuation of himself. For through his pleasure and his pain he learns nothing about the things, but merely something about himself. If I feel sympathy with a human being, I feel, to begin with, nothing but my relation to him. If I make myself dependent on this feeling of pleasure, of sympathy, in my judgment and my conduct, I am placing my personality in the foreground: I am obtruding it upon the world. I want to thrust myself into the world just as I am, instead of accepting the world in an unbiased way and allowing it to play itself out in accordance with the forces working in it. In other words, I am tolerant only of what harmonises with my personality. Towards everything else I exert a repelling force. As long as a man is enmeshed by the sense-world, he works in a particularly repelling way on all non-material influences. The learner must develop in himself the capacity to conduct himself towards things and people in accordance with their peculiar natures and to recognise the due worth and significance of each one. Sympathy and antipathy, liking and disliking, must be made to play quite new roles. There is no question of man's eradicating these, of blunting himself to sympathy and antipathy. On the contrary, the more a man develops in himself the capacity to refrain from allowing every feeling of sympathy and antipathy to be followed immediately by a judgment, an action, the more delicate will be the sensitiveness he develops. He will find that sympathies and antipathies assume higher forms in him, if he curbs those already in him. Even something that is at first utterly unattractive has hidden qualities; it reveals them if a man does not in his conduct obey his selfish feelings. He who has developed in this respect has more delicate feelings, in every direction, than one who is undeveloped, because he does not allow his own personality to cause lack of receptivity. Each inclination that a man follows blindly blunts his power to see things in the environment in their true light. By obeying inclination we thrust ourselves through the environment, as it were, instead of laying ourselves open to it and feeling its true value.

[ 7 ] A man becomes independent of the changing impressions of the outer world when every pleasure, every pain, every sympathy and antipathy, no longer evoke in him an egotistical response and egotistical conduct. The pleasure he feels in a thing makes him at once dependent on it. He loses himself in the thing. A man who loses himself in the pleasure or pain caused by constantly changing impressions cannot tread the path of higher knowledge. He must accept pleasure and pain with equanimity. Then he ceases to lose himself in them; he begins instead to understand them. A pleasure to which I surrender myself devours my being at the moment of surrender. I ought to use the pleasure only in order through it to reach an understanding of the thing that arouses pleasure in men. The important point ought not to be that the thing has aroused the pleasure in me; I ought to experience the pleasure and through it the essential nature of the thing in question. The pleasure should only be an intimation to me that there is in the thing a quality calculated to give pleasure. This quality I must learn to understand. If I go no further than the pleasure, if I allow myself to be entirely absorbed in it, then it only feeds my own pleasures; if the pleasure is to me only an opportunity to experience a quality or property of a thing, I enrich my inner being through this experience. To the seeker, pleasure and displeasure, joy and pain, must be opportunities for learning about things. The seeker does not thereby become blunted to pleasure or pain, but he raises himself above them in order that they may reveal to him the nature of things. He who develops in this respect will learn to realise what good instructors pleasure and pain are. He will feel with every being and thereby receive the revelation of its inner nature. The seeker never says to himself merely, “Oh, how I suffer!” or “Oh, how glad I am!” but always “How suffering speaks!” “How joy speaks!” He eliminates the element of self in order that pleasure and joy from the outer world may work upon him. By this means he develops a completely new way of relating himself to things. Formerly he responded to this or that impression by this or that action, only because the impressions caused him joy or dislike. But now he lets pleasure and displeasure also become the organs by which things tell him what they themselves truly are in their own nature. In him, pleasure and pain change from being mere feelings to organs of sense by which the external world is perceived. Just as the eye does not itself act when it sees something, but causes the hand to act, so do pleasure and pain bring about nothing in the spiritual seeker, in so far as he employs them as means of knowledge, but they receive impressions, and what is experienced through pleasure and displeasure is that which brings about the action. When a man uses pleasure and displeasure in such a way that they become organs of transmission, they build up within his soul the actual organs through which the soul-world reveals itself to him. The eye can serve the body only by being an organ for the transmission of sense-impressions; pleasure and pain become eyes of the soul when they cease merely to have value for themselves and begin to reveal to a man's own soul the soul outside it.

[ 8 ] Through the qualities named, the student induces in himself the condition which allows the realities present in the world around him to work upon him without disturbing influences emanating from his own personality. But he has also to fit himself into the surrounding spiritual world in the right way. As a thinking being he is a citizen of the spiritual world. He can be this in a right way only if during mental activity he makes his thoughts move in accordance with the eternal laws of truth, the laws of the “Spiritland.” For only so can that realm work upon him and reveal its facts to him. A man does not reach the truth as long as he gives himself up only to the thoughts continually coursing through his Ego. For if he does, these thoughts take a course imposed on them by the fact that they come into existence within the bodily nature. The thought-world of a man who gives himself up to a mental activity determined primarily by his physical brain appears disorderly and confused. A thought enters it, breaks off, is driven out of the field by another. Anyone who tests this by listening to a conversation between two people, or who observes himself frankly, will gain an idea of this mass of will-o'-the-wisp thoughts. As long as a man devotes himself only to the calls of the life of the senses, the confused course of his thoughts will always be set right again by the facts of reality. I may think ever so confusedly: but in my actions everyday facts force upon me the laws corresponding to the reality. My mental picture of a town may be utterly confused; but if I wish to walk along a certain street in the town I must accommodate myself to existing facts. A mechanic may enter his workshop with a chaotic medley of ideas; but the laws of his machines compel him to adopt the correct procedure in his work. Within the world of the senses facts exercise their continuous corrective on thought. If I think out a false opinion about a physical phenomenon or the shape of a plant, the reality confronts me and sets my thinking right.

It is quite different when I consider my relations to the higher regions of existence. They reveal themselves to me only if I enter them with strictly controlled thinking. There my thinking must give me the right, the sure impulse, otherwise I cannot find the proper paths. For the spiritual laws prevailing in these worlds are not sensibly perceptible, and therefore they do not exert on me the compulsion described above. I am able to obey these laws only when they are allied to my own as those of a thinking being. Here I must be my own sure guide. The student's thinking must therefore be strictly regulated in itself. His thoughts must by degrees disaccustom themselves entirely from taking the ordinary daily course. They must in their whole sequence take on the inner character of the spiritual world. He must be able constantly to keep watch over himself in this respect and have himself in hand. With him one thought must not link itself arbitrarily with another, but only in the way that corresponds with the actual contents of the thought-world. The transition from one idea to another must correspond with the strict laws of thought. As thinker, the man must be to a certain extent a constant copy of these thought-laws. He must shut out from his train of thought everything that does not flow out of these laws. Should a favourite thought present itself to him, he must put it aside if the right sequence will be disturbed by it. If a personal feeling tries to force upon his thoughts a direction not proper to them, he must suppress it.

Plato required of those who wished to be admitted to his school that they should first have a mathematical training. And mathematics, with its strict laws which are independent of the course taken by sense-phenomena, form a good preparation for the seeker. If he wishes to make progress in the study of mathematics he must get rid of all personal arbitrariness, all elements of disturbance. The student prepares himself for his task by overcoming through his own will all arbitrary thinking. He learns to follow purely the demands of thought. And so too he must learn to do this in all thinking intended to serve spiritual knowledge. This thought-life itself must be a reflection of undisturbed mathematical judgment and inference. He must strive, wherever he goes and wherever he is, to be able to think in this way. Then the laws of the spirit-world flow into him, laws which pass over and through him, without a trace as long as his thinking has the usual, confused character. Regulated thinking leads him from reliable starting-points to the most hidden truths. What has been said, however, must not be understood in a one-sided way. Although mathematics acts as a good discipline, pure, healthy and vital thinking can be achieved without mathematics.

[ 9 ] The goal towards which the student must strive for his thinking must also be the same for his actions. He must be able to obey the laws of the nobly beautiful and the eternally true without any disturbing influences from his personality. These laws must be able to guide and direct him. If he begins to do something he has recognised as right and his personal feelings are not satisfied by the action, he must not for that reason abandon the path on which he has entered. But on the other hand he must not persist with it because it gives him joy, if he finds that it is not in harmony with the laws of the eternally Beautiful and True. In everyday life people allow their actions to be determined by what satisfies them personally, by what bears fruit for themselves. In so doing they force their personality upon the world's events. They do not bring to realisation the true that is already traced in the laws of the spirit-world, but simply the demands of their self-will. We act in harmony with the spiritual world only when we follow its laws alone. From what is done merely out of the personality, there result no forces which can form a basis for spiritual knowledge. The seeker must not ask only, “What brings me advantages, what will bring me success?” He must also be able to ask: “What have I recognised as the Good?” Renunciation of the fruits of action for his personality, renunciation of all self-will: these are the stern laws that he must prescribe for himself. Then he treads the paths of the spiritual world, his whole being is penetrated by these laws. He becomes free from all compulsion from the world of the senses; his spirit-nature raises itself out of the material sheath. Thus he makes actual progress on the path towards the spiritual and spiritualises his own nature. One cannot say, “Of what use to me are the precepts to follow purely the laws of the True when I am perhaps mistaken as to what is the True?” What matters is the striving and the attitude to it. Even a man who is mistaken has in his very striving after the

True a force which diverts him from the wrong path. If he is mistaken, this force guides him to the right paths. Even the objection, “But I may be mistaken,” is harmful misgiving. It shows that the man has no confidence in the power of the True. For the important point is that he should not presume to decide on his aims and objects in life in accordance with his own egotistical views, but that he should selflessly yield himself up to the guidance of the spirit itself. It is not the self-seeking human will that can prescribe for the True; on the contrary, the True itself must become lord in the man, must penetrate his whole being, make him a mirror-image of the eternal laws of the Spiritland. He must fill himself with these eternal laws in order to let them stream out into life.

The seeker must be able to hold strict guard over both his thinking and his will. Thereby he becomes in all humility—without presumption—a messenger of the world of the True and the Beautiful, and rises to be a participant in the Spirit-World. He rises from stage to stage of development. For one cannot reach the spiritual life by merely beholding it; it has to be attained through actual experience.

[ 10 ] If the seeker observes the laws here described, those of his soul-experiences that relate to the spiritual world will take on an entirely new form. He will no longer live merely in them. They will no longer have a significance merely for his personal life. They will develop into inner perceptions of the higher world. In his soul the feelings of pleasure and displeasure, of joy and pain, grow into organs of soul, just as in his body eyes and ears do not lead a life for themselves but selflessly allow external impressions to pass through them. And thereby the seeker gains the inner calmness and assurance that are necessary for investigation in the spirit-world. A great joy will no longer make him merely jubilant, but may be the messenger of qualities in the world which have hitherto escaped him. It will leave him calm: and through the calm, the characteristics of the joy-bringing beings will reveal themselves to him. Suffering will no longer merely oppress him, but will also be able to tell him about the qualities and attributes of the being which causes the suffering. Just as the eye does not desire anything for itself, but shows to man the direction of the path he has to take, so will joy and suffering guide the soul safely along its path. This is the state of balance of soul which the seeker must attain. The less joy and suffering exhaust themselves in the waves which they throw up in his inner life, the more will they form eyes for the supersensible world. As long as a man lives wholly in joy and pain he cannot gain knowledge through them. When he learns how to live through them, when he draws out of them his feeling of self, then they become his organs of perception; then he sees by means of them, cognises by means of them. It is incorrect to think that the seeker becomes a dry, colourless being, incapable of joy or suffering. Joy and suffering are present in him, but—when he investigates in the spiritual world—in a different form; they have become “eyes and ears.”

[ 11 ] As long as we live in a personal relationship with the world things reveal only what links them with our personality. But that is the transitory part of them. If we withdraw ourselves from the transitory nature and live with our feeling of self, with our “I,” in our permanent nature, then the transitory parts of our nature become intermediaries; and what reveals itself through them is an Imperishable reality, an Eternal reality in the things. This relationship between his own Eternal nature and the Eternal in the things must be established by the seeker. Even before he begins other exercises of the kind described, and also during them, he should direct his thought to this Imperishable aspect. When I observe a stone, a plant, an animal, a man, I should be able to remember that in each of them an Eternal Reality expresses itself. I should be able to ask myself what is the permanent reality that lives in the transitory stone, in the transitory human being? What will outlast the transitory, physical appearance? It must not be thought that such a directing of the spirit to the Eternal destroys the power of devoted observation and our feeling for the qualities of everyday affairs, and estranges us from the immediate realities. On the contrary. Every leaf, every little insect, will unveil to us innumerable mysteries when not our eyes only, but through the eyes the spirit is directed upon them. Every sparkle, every shade of colour, every cadence, will remain vividly perceptible to the senses; nothing will be lost; an infinitude of new life is gained in addition. Indeed a person who does not understand how to observe with the eye even the tiniest thing will achieve only pale, bloodless thoughts, not spiritual sight.

Everything depends upon our attitude of mind. How far we shall succeed will depend upon our capacities. We have only to do what is right and leave everything else to evolution. It must be enough for us at first to direct our minds to the permanent. If we do this, the knowledge of the permanent will thereby awaken in us. We must wait until it is given. And it is given at the right time to each one who waits with patience—and works. A man soon notices during such exercises what a mighty transformation takes place in him. He learns to consider each thing as important or unimportant only in so far as he recognises it to be related to the Permanent, to the Eternal. His valuation and estimate of the world are different from those he has hitherto held. His feeling takes on a new relationship towards the whole surrounding world. The transitory no longer attracts him merely for its own sake, as formerly; it becomes for him a member, an image of the Eternal. And this Eternal reality that lives in all things, he learns to love. It becomes familiar to him, just as the transitory was formerly familiar to him. Again this does not cause him to be estranged from life; he merely learns to value each thing according to its true significance. Even the trifles of life will not pass him by without trace; but, inasmuch as he is seeking the spiritual, he no longer loses himself in them but recognises them at their worth. He sees them in their true light. Only an inferior seeker would go wandering in the clouds and lose sight of actual fife; a genuine seeker will, from his high summit, with his power of clear survey and his just and healthy feeling for everything, know how to assign to each thing its proper place.

[ 12 ] Thus there opens out to the seeker the possibility of ceasing to obey only the incalculable influences of the external world of the senses, which turn his will now here, now there. Through knowledge he has seen the eternal nature in things. Through the transformation of his inner world he has gained the capacity to perceive this eternal nature. For the seeker, the following thoughts have special importance. When he acts from out of himself, he is conscious that he is also acting out of the eternal nature of the things. For the things give utterance in him to this nature of theirs. He is therefore acting in harmony with the eternal World Order when he directs his action from out of the Eternal within him. He knows himself to be no longer merely impelled by the things; he knows that he impels them according to the laws implanted in them which have become the laws of his own being.

This ability to act out of his own inner being can only be an ideal towards which the seeker strives. The attainment of the goal lies in the far distance. But the seeker must have the will clearly to recognise this path. This is his will for freedom. For freedom is action out of one's own inner being. And only a man who draws his motives from the Eternal may act from out of his inner being. One who does not do this, acts according to motives other than those inherent in the things. Such a man opposes the World Order. And this must then prevail against him. That is to say, what he plans to carry through by his will can, in the last resort, not take place. He cannot become free. The arbitrary will of the individual annihilates itself through the effects of its deeds.

[ 13 ] He who is able to work upon his inner life in such a way advances from stage to stage in spiritual knowledge. The fruit of his exercises will be that certain vistas of the supersensible world will unfold to his spiritual perception. He learns the meaning of the truths that are communicated about this world; and he will receive confirmation of them through his own experience. If this stage is attained something approaches him which can become experience only through treading this path. In a manner whose significance now for the first time can become clear to him through the “great spiritual guiding Powers of the Human race” there is bestowed on him what is called consecration—Initiation. He becomes a “pupil of Wisdom.” The less such an Initiation is thought to consist in any outer human relationship, the more correct will be the conception formed about it. What the seeker now experiences can only be indicated here. He receives a new home. He becomes thereby a conscious dweller in the supersensible world. The source of spiritual insight now flows to him from a higher sphere. The light of knowledge does not henceforward shine upon him from without but he is himself placed in the fountain-head of this light. The problems which the world presents receive new illumination. Henceforth he no longer holds converse with the things which are fashioned through the spirit, but with the forming Spirit itself. The separate life of the personality only exists now, in the moments of spiritual knowledge, in order to be a conscious image of the Eternal. Doubts concerning the spirit which could formerly have arisen in him vanish away: for only he can doubt who is deluded by things regarding the spirit that rules in them. And since the “pupil of Wisdom” is able to hold intercourse with the spirit itself, every false form in which he had previously imagined the spirit, vanishes. The false form under which the spirit is conceived is superstition. The initiate has passed beyond all superstition, for he knows what the true form of the spirit is. Freedom from the preconceptions of the personality, of doubt and of superstition—these are the hallmarks of one who has attained to discipleship on the path of higher knowledge. This state in which the personality becomes one with the all-embracing spirit of life, must not be confused with an absorption in the “All-Spirit” that annihilates the personality. No such annihilation takes place in a true development of the personality. Personality remains preserved as such in the relationship into which it enters with the spirit-world. It is not the subjection of the personality but its higher development that takes place. If we wish to have a simile for this coincidence or union of the individual spirit with the “All-Spirit,” we cannot choose that of different circles which, coinciding, are lost in the one, but we must choose the picture of many circles of which each has a distinct shade of colour. These differently coloured circles coincide, but each separate shade preserves its existence within the whole. Not one loses the fullness of its individual power.

[ 14 ] No further description of the path will be given here. It is contained, as far as is possible, in my Occult Science—an Outline which forms a continuation of this book.

[ 15 ] What has been said here about the path of spiritual knowledge can only too easily, if it is not properly understood, mislead the reader into regarding it as a recommendation of moods of soul that bring with them the tendency to turn away from the immediate, joyous, active experience of life. As against this it must be emphasised that the particular mood of the soul which renders it fit for direct experience of the reality of the spirit, cannot be extended over the whole of life. It is possible for the investigator of spiritual existence to bring his soul, for the purpose of that investigation, into the necessary condition of withdrawal from the realities of the senses, without being made in ordinary life into a man estranged from the world. On the other hand it must be recognised too that a knowledge of the spiritual world, not merely a knowledge gained by treading the path, but also a knowledge acquired through grasping the truths of spiritual science with ordinary, open-minded, healthy human understanding, leads to a higher moral status in life, to a knowledge of sensory existence that is in accord with the truth, to assurance in life and to inner health of the soul.

• 1. One can see very well, precisely from this indication, that in the requirement of “unreserved surrender” there is no question of shutting out one's own judgment or giving oneself up to blind faith. Anything of the sort would quite obviously have no sense or meaning in regard to a child.
• 2. This open-minded and uncritical attitude has nothing whatever in common with “blind faith.” The important thing is not that one should believe blindly in anything, but that a “blind judgment” should not be put into the place of the living impression.

My dear Friends:
A special festival has long been celebrated on this particular day of the year by a great number of those seeking higher wisdom; and many friends of our anthroposophical movement here in this city have wished this series of lectures to commence on this day, St. John's Day.

The day of the year bearing this name was a festival as far back as the time of ancient Persia. There, on a day corresponding to a June day as we know it, the so-called Festival of the Baptism by Water and Fire was celebrated. In ancient Rome the Festival of Vesta was held on a similar day in June, and that again was a festival of the baptism by fire. Going back to the time of pre-Christian culture in Europe and including the period before Christianity had become widely disseminated, we find a similar June festival coinciding with the time when the days are longest and the nights shortest, when the days start to become shorter again, when the sun once more begins to lose some of the power that provides for all earthly growth and thriving. This June festival seemed to our European forefathers like a retrogression, a gradual evanescence, of the God Baldur who was thought of as associated with the sun. Then in Christian times this June festival gradually became the Festival of St. John in memory of the Forerunner of Christ Jesus. In this way it can form the starting point, as it were, for our discussions during the coming days of that most significant event in human evolution which we call the deed of Christ Jesus. This deed, its whole significance for the development of mankind, the way it is revealed primarily in the most important Christian document, the Gospel of St. John—and then a comparison of this with the other Gospels—a study of all this will form the subject of this lecture cycle.

St. John's Day reminds us that the most exalted Individuality that ever took part in the evolution of mankind was preceded by a forerunner. This touches at once an important point which—again like a forerunner—we must place at the beginning of our lectures as a subject of discussion. In the course of human evolution there appear again and again events of such profound import as to throw a stronger light than others. From epoch to epoch we see history recording such vital events; and ever and anon we are told that there are men who, in certain respects, know of such events in advance and can foretell them. This implies that such events are not arbitrary, but rather, that one who discerns the whole sense and spirit of human history knows how such events must unfold, and how he himself must work and prepare in order that they may come to pass.

We shall have occasion in the next few days to refer repeatedly to the Forerunner of Christ Jesus. Today we will consider him only as one of those who, by means of special spiritual gifts, are able to see deep into the relations within the evolution of mankind, and who thus know that there are pre-eminent moments in this evolution. For this reason he was able to clear the path for Christ Jesus. But if we turn to Christ Jesus Himself, thus coming to the main subject of our discussions, as it were, we must understand that not without reason does a large part of mankind divide the record of time into two epochs separated by the appearance of Christ Jesus on earth. This discloses a feeling for the incisive importance of the Christ Mystery. But all truth, all reality, must ever be proclaimed to humanity in new forms, in new ways, for the needs of men change from one epoch to another. In certain respects our epoch calls for a new revelation even of this greatest event in the earthly evolution of man, the Christ Event; and it is anthroposophy's aim to be this revelation.

As far as its content is concerned, the anthroposophical presentation of the Christ Mystery is nothing new, not even for us today; but its form is new. All that is to be disclosed here in the next few days has been known for centuries within certain restricted circles of our cultural and spiritual life. Only one feature distinguishes today's presentation from all those that have gone before: it can be addressed to a larger circle. Those smaller circles in which for centuries the same message was proclaimed within our European spiritual life, these had recognized the same symbol that confronts you here in this lecture hall today: the Rose Cross. For this reason it is fitting that today, when this message goes forth to a larger public, the Rose Cross should again be its symbol.

First let me characterize once more in a symbolical way the basis of these Rosicrucian revelations concerning Christ Jesus. The Rosicrucians are a brotherhood that has fostered a genuinely spiritual Christianity within the spiritual life of Europe ever since the 14th Century. This Rosicrucian Society which, ignoring all outer historical forms, has endeavored to bring to light the deepest truths of Christianity, always called its members “Christians of St. John.” If we come to understand this term the whole spirit and trend of the following lectures will be—if not mentally comprehended, at least imaginatively grasped.

As you know, the Gospel of St. John—that mighty document of the human race—begins with the words:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and a God was the Word.

The same was in the beginning with God.

The Word, then—or the Logos—was in the beginning with God. And we are further told that the light shone in the darkness, and that the darkness at first comprehended it not; that this light was in the world among men, but that these men counted but few among their number who were able to comprehend the Light. Then the Word made flesh appeared as a Man, a Man Whose forerunner was the Baptist John. And then we see how those who had some understanding of this appearance of Christ on earth endeavored to make clear what Christ really was. We see the author of the John Gospel pointing directly to the fact that what dwelt in Jesus of Nazareth as profoundest essence was nothing different from that in which originate all other beings that surround us: the living Spirit, the living Word, the Logos itself.

And the other Evangelists as well, each in his own way, have been at pains to characterize what it really was that appeared in Jesus of Nazareth. We see, for example, the writer of the Luke Gospel endeavoring to show that something quite special manifested itself when, at the Baptism of Christ Jesus, the Spirit united with the body of Jesus of Nazareth. Then the same writer tells us that this Jesus of Nazareth was the descendant of ancestors reaching far, far back; that His genealogy went back to David, to Abraham, to Adam—even to God Himself. Note well that the Luke Gospel points emphatically to this line of descent:

Jesus of Nazareth was the son of Joseph, Joseph was the son of Heli.

... he was the son of David ...

he was the son of Adam, and Adam was the son of God.

This means that the author of the Luke Gospel considers it of special importance that a direct line runs from Jesus of Nazareth, with Whom the Spirit united at the Baptism by John, to Him Whom he calls the Father of Adam, to God. Such things must be taken entirely literally.

In the Matthew Gospel, on the other hand, the attempt is made to trace the descent of this Jesus of Nazareth back to Abraham, to whom God revealed Himself.

In this way and in many others—through many statements we can find in the Gospels—the Individuality that is the vehicle of the Christ, as well as the whole manifestation of Christ, is set before us not only as one of the greatest, but as the very greatest of all events in the evolution of humanity. Clearly this means, does it not? what can be expressed quite simply as follows: If Christ Jesus is regarded by those who divined something of His greatness as the most significant phenomenon in the evolution of man upon earth, then this Christ Jesus must in some way be connected with what is most vital and sacred in man himself. In other words, there must be something in man himself that can be brought into relation with the Christ event. Can we not ask, If Christ Jesus, as the Gospels maintain, is really the most important phenomenon in human evolution, does it not follow that always, in every human soul, there is something that is related to Christ Jesus?

And that is precisely what the Johannine Christians of the Rosicrucian Society deemed of greatest import and significance: that there is in every human soul something directly related to the events in Palestine as brought about through Christ Jesus. If the coming of Christ Jesus can be called the greatest event for mankind, then what corresponds in the human soul to the Christ event must be the greatest and most significant as well. And what can that be? The disciples of the Rosicrucians answered: There exists for every human soul something that is called awakening, or rebirth, or initiation.

Let us see what is meant by these terms. Looking at the various things around us—things we see with our eyes, touch with our hands—we observe them coming into being and perishing. We see the flower, the whole annual plant life, come up and then wither; and though there are such things in the world as rocks and mountains that seem to defy the centuries we need only consider the proverb, "a steady drip hollows out the rock" to realize that the human soul senses the laws of transience as governing even the majestic boulders and mountains. And we know that there comes into being and perishes even what is built of the elements: not only what we call our corporeality, but what we know as our perishable ego is engendered and then passes. But those who know how a spiritual world can be reached know also that this is not attained by means of eyes or ears or other senses, but by the path of awakening, of rebirth, of initiation.

And what is it that is reborn? When a man observes his inner self he finally comes to realize that what he sees there is that to which he says “I”. Its very name differentiates it from anything in the outer world. To everything in the outer world a name can be applied externally. Everyone can call a table a table or a clock a clock; but never in the world could the name “I” fall on our ear if it were intended to denote ourself, for “I” must be spoken within us: to everyone else we are “you.” This in itself shows us that our ego-being is distinct from all else that is in or around us.

But in addition, we now come to something that spiritual scientists of all times have emphasized from their own experience for the benefit of mankind: that within this ego another, a higher one, is born, as the child is born of the mother. A man as he appears in life is first encountered as a child, awkward in his surroundings but gradually learning to understand things: he gains in sense, his intellect and his will grow, and his strength and energy increase. But there have always been people who grow in other ways as well, who attain to a stage of development beyond the average, who find, so to say, a second I that can say “you” to the first one in the same way that the I itself says “you” to the outer world and to its own body—that looks upon this first I from above, as it were.

As an ideal, then, for the soul of man, and as a reality for those who follow the instructions of spiritual science, we have the thought: the ego I have hitherto known takes part in the whole outer world, and together with this it is perishable; but there slumbers within me a second ego of which men are unaware but can become aware. It is linked with the imperishable, just as the first ego is bound up with the perishable, the temporal; and by means of rebirth this higher ego can behold a spiritual world just as the lower ego does perceive the physical world through eyes and ears.

This awakening, rebirth, initiation, as it is called, is the greatest event for the human soul—a view shared by those who called themselves confessors of the Rose Cross. These knew that this event of the rebirth of the higher ego, which can look from above on the lower ego as man looks on outer forms, must have some connection with the event of Christ Jesus. This means that just as a rebirth can occur for the individual in his development, so a rebirth for all humanity came about through Christ Jesus. That which is an inner event for the individual—a mystical-spiritual event, as it is called, something he can experience as the birth of his higher ego—corresponds to what occurred in the outer world, in history, for all mankind in the event of Palestine through Christ Jesus.

How did this appear to a man like, for instance, the author of the Luke Gospel? He reasoned as follows: The genealogy of Jesus of Nazareth goes back to Adam and to God himself. What today is mankind, what now inhabits a physical human body, once descended from divine heights: it was born of the spirit, it was once with God. Adam was he who had been sent down out of spiritual heights into matter, and in this sense he is the son of God. So there was at one time a divine-spiritual realm—thus the argument would continue—that condensed, as it were, into an ephemeral, tellurian realm: Adam came into being. Adam was an earthly image of the Son of God, and from him are descended the human beings that dwell in a physical body. And in a special way there lived in Jesus of Nazareth not only what exists in every man and all that pertains to it, but something the essence of which can be found only when one is aware that the true being of man derives from the divine. In Jesus of Nazareth something of this divine descent is still apparent. For this reason the writer of the Luke Gospel feels constrained to say, Behold Him Who was baptized by John! He bears special marks of the divine out of which Adam was originally born. This can come to life again in Him. Just as the God descended into matter and disappeared as such from the human race, so He reappears. In Jesus of Nazareth mankind could be reborn in its innermost divine principle. What the author of the Luke Gospel meant was this: If we trace the genealogy of Jesus of Nazareth to its source, we find the divine origin and the characteristics of the Son of God appearing in Him in a new way, and in a higher degree than would hitherto have been possible for mankind.

And the writer of the John Gospel emphasizes even more strongly the existence of something divine in man, as well as the fact that this appeared in its most grandiose form as the God and the Logos themselves. The God Who had been buried, as it were, in matter is reborn as God in Jesus of Nazareth. That is what was meant by those who introduced their Gospels in this way.

And those who endeavored to perpetuate the wisdom of these Gospels—what did they say? How did the Johannine Christians put it? They said: In the individual human being a great and mighty event can take place that can be called the rebirth of the higher ego. As the child is born of the mother, so the divine ego is born of man. Initiation, awakening, is possible; and when once this has come to pass—so said those who were competent to speak—a new standard of values will arise.

Let us try to understand by a comparison what it is that henceforth becomes important. Suppose we have before us a man seventy years old—an "awakened" man who has attained to his higher ego—and suppose he had been in his fortieth year when he experienced rebirth, the awakening of his higher ego. Had someone approached him at that time with the intention of describing his life he could have reflected: I have before me a man who has just given birth to his higher ego. It is the same man I knew five years ago in certain circumstances, and ten years ago in others.—And if he had wanted to portray the identity of this man—if he had wanted to show that this man had a quite special start, even at birth—he would trace back the forty years with his physical existence in mind and describe the latter as far as pertinent, in the spirit of one who sees matters from the spiritual-scientific viewpoint. But in his fortieth year a higher ego was born in this man, and henceforth this higher ego irradiates all the circumstances of his life. He is a new man. That which existed previously is of no further importance. What is now important is to understand, above all things, how the higher ego grows from year to year and develops further. Now, when this man had arrived at the age of seventy, we would enquire into the path taken by the higher ego from the fortieth to the seventieth year; and if we believe in what was born in the soul of this man thirty years before, it would be of importance that it is the true spiritual ego he presents to us in his seventieth year. That is the way the Evangelists went about it; and it was thus, and in connection with the Gospels, that the Johannine Christians of Rosicrucianism dealt with the Being we know as Christ Jesus.

The Gospel writers had set themselves the task of showing, first of all, that Christ Jesus had His origin in the primordial World Spirit, in the God Himself. The God that had dwelt unseen in all mankind is specifically manifested in Christ Jesus; and that is the same God of Whom the John Gospel tells us that He was in the beginning. What the Evangelists set out to do was to show that it was precisely this God that dwelt in Jesus of Nazareth. But those whose task it was to perpetuate the eternal wisdom right into our own time had to emphasize the fact that man's higher ego, the divine spirit of mankind—born in Jesus of Nazareth through the event in Palestine—had remained the same and had been preserved by all who approached it with true understanding. Just as in our comparison we described how the man bore his higher ego in his fortieth year, so the Evangelists pictured the God that dwells in man up to the event of Palestine—how the God developed, how he was reborn, and so forth. But those upon whom it was incumbent to demonstrate that they were the successors of the Evangelists, these had to point out that the time was ripe for the rebirth of the higher ego, when we have to do only with the spiritual part, irradiating
all else.

Those who called themselves the Johannine Christians and whose symbol was the Rose Cross held that precisely what was reborn for mankind as the secret of its higher ego has been preserved—preserved by the close community which grew out of Rosicrucianism. This continuity is symbolically indicated by that sacred vessel from which Christ Jesus ate and drank with His disciples, and in which Joseph of Arimathia caught the blood that flowed from the wound—the Holy Grail which, as the story is told, was brought to Europe by Angels. A temple was built to contain this vessel, and the Rosicrucians became the guardians of what it contained, namely, the essence of the reborn God.

The mystery of the reborn God had its being in humanity. It is the Mystery of the Grail, a mystery propounded like a new Gospel, proclaiming: We look up to a sage such as the writer of the John Gospel who was able to say:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and a God was the Word.

That which was with God in the beginning was born again in Him Whom we have seen suffer and die on Golgotha, and Who is arisen.—This continuity throughout all time of the divine principle and its rebirth, that is what the author of the John Gospel aimed to set forth. Something known to all those who endeavored to proclaim this truth was that what was in the beginning has been preserved. In the beginning was the mystery of the higher ego; it was preserved in the Grail; with the Grail it has remained linked. And in the Grail lives the ego united with the eternal and immortal, just as the lower ego is bound to the ephemeral and mortal. He who knows the secret of the Holy Grail knows that from the wood of the Cross there springs ever new life, the immortal ego, symbolized by the roses on the black wood of the cross.

The secret of the Rose Cross can thus appear like a continuation of the John Gospel; and in reference to the latter and to its continuation it can truly be said:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and a God was the Word. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by It;¹ and without It was not any thing made that was made. In It was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

Only a few men—those who possessed something of what is not born of the flesh—comprehended the light that shone in the darkness. But then the light became flesh and dwelt among men in the form of Jesus of Nazareth. Here we can say, wholly within the meaning of the John Gospel: That which dwelt as the Christ in Jesus of Nazareth was the higher divine ego of all humanity, of the reborn God Who, in Adam, as His image, became earthly. This reborn human ego was perpetuated as a holy secret, was preserved under the symbol of the Rose Cross, and is now proclaimed as the secret of the Holy Grail, as the Rose Cross.

The principle which can be born in every human soul as the higher ego points to the rebirth of the divine ego, in the evolution of mankind in its entirety, through the Event of Palestine. Just as the higher ego is born in the individual, so the higher ego of all mankind, the divine ego, was born in Palestine; and it is preserved and developed in what lives concealed in the sign of the Rose Cross.

But if we study the evolution of man we find not only this one great event, the rebirth of the higher ego, but a number of lesser ones as well. Before the higher ego can be born, before this mighty, comprehensive, pervasive experience can come to the soul—the birth of the immortal ego in the mortal ego—extensive preparatory stages must have been passed through. A man must prepare himself in many different ways. And after the great experience has come to him that enables him to say to himself, Now I feel within myself something that looks down from above on my ordinary ego, just as my ordinary ego looks upon the things of the senses; now I am a second being within my first; now I have attained to the realms in which I am united with the divine beings—when the human being has had this experience, then he faces further stages that must be passed through, stages differing in their nature from the preparatory ones, but which none the less must be traversed.

Thus there is for each individual the one great incisive event, the birth of the higher ego; and there is a similar birth as well for the whole of mankind: the rebirth of the divine ego. Also, there are stages leading to this incisive event and others that must follow it. To find the former, we look back in time beyond the Christ event. There we encounter other great manifestations in human evolution. We become aware of the gradual approach of the Gospel of Christ, as indicated by the writer of the Luke Gospel when he says, In the beginning there was a God, a spirit-being in spiritual heights. He descended into the material world and became man, became humanity.—True, one could discern in man, as he developed, his origin in the God, but the God Himself could not be perceived by observing human evolution with outer physical eyes alone. He was behind the earthly-physical world, as it were; and there He was seen by those who understood where He was, by those who could behold His kingdom.

Let us turn back for a moment to the first civilization that followed upon a great catastrophe, to the ancient Indian civilization. There we find seven great and holy teachers known as the Holy Rishis. They pointed upwards to a higher being of whom they said, Our wisdom can divine the existence of this being, but it suffices not to perceive it.—The vision of the Holy Rishis was great, but the exalted being they called Vishva Karman was beyond their sphere. Vishva Karman, though permeating the spiritual world, was a being beyond what the clairvoyant human eye of that time could reach.—Then followed the civilization called after its great leader, Zarathustra, and Zarathustra spoke as follows to those whom it was his mission to guide: When the clairvoyant eye contemplates the things of this world—minerals, plants, animals, men—it perceives behind these things all sorts of spiritual beings. The being, however, to whom man is indebted for his very existence, who in the future is destined to dwell in man's deepest self, remains hidden as yet even from the clairvoyant eye when it contemplates the things of this earth. But by raising the clairvoyant eye to the sun, said Zarathustra, more than the sun is seen: as an aura is perceived surrounding man, so, in contemplating the sun, the great sun aura is discerned—Ahura Mazdao.—And it was the great sun aura that once brought forth man, in a manner to be characterized later. Man is the image of the sun spirit, of Ahura Mazdao; but as yet Ahura Mazdao did not dwell on earth.—Then came the time in which clairvoyant men began to see Ahura Mazdao in what surrounded them on earth. The great moment had arrived when something could take place that had not been possible in Zarathustra's time. When Zarathustra discerned clairvoyantly what was manifested in earthly lightning and thunder, it was not Ahura Mazdao, the great sun spirit who is the prototype of mankind, that he saw; but when he turned to the sun he saw Ahura Mazdao. When Zarathustra had found a successor in Moses, Moses' clairvoyant vision could see in the burning bush and in the fire on Sinai the spirit who proclaimed himself as ehjeh asher ehjeh, as the “I am,” as He Who was, as He Who is, as He Who shall be: Jahve, or Jehova.

What had taken place? During that remote period between the appearance of Zarathustra and that of Moses upon earth, the Spirit Who previously had dwelt only on the sun had moved downward to earth. He flamed up in the burning bush and shone in the fire on Sinai: He was in the elements of the earth. And then another period passed; and the Spirit Whose presence the great holy Rishis felt, but of Whom they had to say: Our clairvoyance does not suffice to see Him—the Spirit Whom Zarathustra had to seek in the sun, Who revealed Himself to Moses in thunder and lightning—this Spirit appeared in a human being: in Jesus of Nazareth. That was the evolution: first a descent from the cosmos into the physical elements, then into a human body. Only then was reborn the divine ego from which man descended, and to which the writer of the Luke Gospel traces the genealogy of Jesus of Nazareth. This was the great event of the rebirth of the God in man.

That is a retrospect of the preparatory stages, and it shows us that mankind, too, passed through these. And those who had advanced with mankind as its early leaders were also destined to progress until one of them had achieved the capacity to become the bearer of the Christ. Such is the evolution of mankind as seen through spiritual eyes.

And there is another point. What the holy Rishis revered as Vishva Karman, what Zarathustra addressed as the Ahura Mazdao of the sun, and what Moses reverenced as ehjeh asher ehjeh—this had to appear in a single human being, in Jesus of Nazareth, in physically circumscribed humanness. This consummation was fore-ordained. But to enable so exalted a being to dwell in such a man as Jesus of Nazareth, many circumstances had to contribute. For one thing, Jesus of Nazareth Himself had to have arrived at an exalted level. Not every man could be the vehicle of such a being that came into the world as described. Now, we who have made contact with spiritual science know that there is reincarnation, so we must realize that Jesus of Nazareth—not the Christ—had experienced many incarnations and that He had passed through the most manifold stages in His previous incarnations before He could become Jesus of Nazareth.

What this means is that Jesus of Nazareth had Himself to become a high initiate before He could become the Christ bearer. Now, when a lofty initiate is born, how do such a birth and the subsequent life differ from the birth and life of an ordinary man? In a general way it can be assumed that when a man is born he bears the characteristics, at least approximately, of what derives from a previous incarnation. But that is not the case with an initiate. The initiate could not be a leader of mankind if he bore within him only what wholly corresponds with his outer self, for that he must build up according to the conditions of his external environment. When an initiate is born there must enter his body a lofty soul that in past times has had mighty experiences in the world. That is why legend so often tells of the strange births of initiates.

As to why and how this is so, we have already touched upon the answer to the first of these questions. It is because a comprehensive ego that had already passed through significant experiences in the past now unites with a body, but this body is at first unable to receive what seeks to incarnate in it as spiritual nature. For this reason it is necessary, in the case of a lofty being incarnating as a high initiate in a perishable human being, that the reincarnating ego should from the start envelop the physical form more intensely than in the case of other men. While in the ordinary human being the physical form resembles and adapts itself soon after birth to the spiritual form, or human aura, the human aura of a reborn initiate is luminous at birth. It is the spiritual part that here indicates the presence of more than can be seen in the ordinary sense. What does this indicate? That not only has a child been born in the physical world, but that something has occurred in the spiritual world. The stories that attach to the birth of all reincarnating initiates express the idea, not only is a child born: something is born in the spirit as well, something that cannot be encompassed by what is born down below.

But who can discern this? Only one who himself has a clairvoyant eye for the spiritual world. Hence we are told that in the birth of Buddha an initiate recognized an event differing from an ordinary birth; and hence also it is related of Jesus of Nazareth that His coming was to be foretold by the Baptist. All who have insight into the spiritual world know that the initiate must come and be reborn; and they know that this is an event in the spiritual world. The Three Kings from the East who came to offer sacrifice at the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, these knew it, too. And the same truth is indicated when the initiated Priest of the Temple says:

Now I can die gladly, since mine eyes have beheld the One Who will be the salvation of mankind.

Clearly, then, we must here differentiate accurately. We have an exalted initiate reborn as Jesus of Nazareth, of Whose birth it must be said that a child was born; but with this Child there appeared something that will not be encompassed by His physical body. This discloses at the same time something in this Jesus of Nazareth that has significance in the spiritual world, something that will gradually develop this body upward to the point at which it will be fit to receive this spirit. And when this was fulfilled, we have the event in which the Baptist approaches Jesus of Nazareth, and a loftier spirit descends and unites with this Jesus of Nazareth: the Christ enters Jesus of Nazareth. And then the Baptist, the Forerunner of Christ Jesus, could well say: I came into the world. It was I who prepared the way for a loftier one. With the words of my mouth I proclaimed the coming of the Kingdom of God, the Realm of the Heavens, and I exhorted men to change their hearts. I came among men, and it was vouchsafed me to bring them tidings of a special impulse that is to come to mankind. As in the springtime the sun mounts higher to announce the budding of something new, so did I appear to bring tidings of what is burgeoning in mankind as the reborn ego of humanity.

Then, when the human principle had reached its height in Jesus of Nazareth, His human body having become an expression of His spirit, He was ripe to receive within Himself the Christ at the Baptism by John. The body of Jesus of Nazareth had unfolded like the bright sun on St. John's Day in June. That had been foretold. Then the spirit was to be born out of the darkness, just as the sun steadily gains in strength and power up to St. John's Day, and then begins to decline. That was what the Baptist had to proclaim. He had to continue to bear witness until—pointing to the sun's ever-increasing splendor—he could say, He of Whom the old Prophets told, He Who in the spiritual realms has been called the Son of the Spiritual Realms, He has appeared.—Up to this point John the Baptist was active. But then—when the days become shorter and darkness begins to gain the upper hand—then the inner spiritual light is to shine as a result of right preparation, is to become ever brighter as the Christ shines in Jesus of Nazareth.

That is the way John the Baptist saw the approach of Jesus of Nazareth; and he felt the growth of Jesus of Nazareth as his own diminution and as the increase in the power of the sun. From now on I shall wane, he said, even as the sun wanes after St. John's Day. But He will wax—He the spiritual sun—and shine out of the darkness.—Thus was the Christ heralded; and thus began the rebirth of the ego of mankind, upon which depends the rebirth of every individual higher human ego.

This characterizes the most important event in the development of the individual human being: the rebirth of what can proceed from the ordinary ego as the immortal principle. It is linked with the greatest event, the Christ event, to which the next lectures will be devoted.

• 1. St. John I, 3 and 4.—Luther's translation differs here from the King James Version: "it" (the Word) remains the subject throughout the passage, not "he" (God), as in the English. That this is the correct translation is specifically stated by Dr. Steiner in the first lecture of his other cycle on the St. John Gospel (Basel, November 16, 1907), and it is therefore incorporated in this translation.

[ 1 ] Goethe's world view attained its highest level of maturity when there arose for him the view of the two great driving wheels of nature: the significance of the concepts of polarity and of enhancement (Steigerung). (See the essay, “Commentary to the Essay Nature.”) Polarity is characteristic of the phenomena of nature insofar as we think of them as material. It consists of the fact that everything material manifests itself in two opposite states, as the magnet does in a north and a south pole. These states of matter either lie open to view or they slumber in what is material and are able to be wakened by suitable means within it. Enhancement belongs to the phenomena insofar as we think them to be spiritual. It can be observed in processes of nature that fall under the idea of development. At the various levels of development these processes show more or less distinctly in their outer manifestation the idea that underlies them. In the fruit, the idea of the plant, the law of vegetation, is only indistinctly manifest. The idea which the spirit recognizes and the perception are not similar to one another. “In the blossoms the law of vegetation comes into its highest manifestation, and the rose would again be but the pinnacle of the manifestation.” What Goethe calls enhancement consists of the bringing forth of the spiritual out of the material by creative nature. That nature is engaged “in an ever-striving ascent” means that it seeks to create forms which, in ascending order, increasingly represent the ideas of things even in outer manifestation. Goethe is of the view that “nature has no secret that it does not somewhere place naked before the eyes of the attentive observer.” Nature can bring forth phenomena from which there can be read directly the ideas applicable to a large area of related processes. It is those phenomena in which enhancement has reached its goal, in which the idea becomes immediate truth. The creative spirit of nature comes to the surface of things here; that which, in coarsely material phenomena, can only be grasped by thinking, that which can only be seen with spiritual eyes, becomes, in enhanced phenomena, visible to the physical eye. Everything sense-perceptible is here also spiritual, and everything spiritual is sense-perceptible. Goethe thinks of the whole of nature as permeated by spirit. Its forms are different through the fact that the spirit in them becomes also more or less outwardly visible. Goethe knows no dead, spiritless matter. Those things appear to be so in which the spirit of nature gives an outer form which is not similar to its ideal being. Because one spirit works both in nature and in man's inner life, man can lift himself to participation in the productions of nature. “... from the tile that falls from the roof, to the radiant lightning of the spirit which arises in you and which you communicate,” everything in the universe is for Goethe an effect, a manifestation of one creative spirit. “All the workings we take note of in experience, no matter what their nature, are interconnected in the most consistent way, pass over into one another; they undulate from the first ones to the last.” “A tile works loose from the roof: we ordinarily say this happens by chance; the tile, after all, certainly strikes the shoulders of a passerby mechanically; only, not altogether mechanically: it follows the laws of gravity and thus works physically. Ruptured bodily organs cease functioning; at that moment the fluids work chemically, the qualities of the elements emerge. But, the interrupted organic life reasserts itself just as quickly and seeks to re-establish itself; meanwhile the human entity is more or less unconscious and psychically disorganized. The person, regaining consciousness, feels himself ethically wounded to the depths; he laments his interrupted activity, no matter of what kind it might be, for no one wants to endure this patiently. Religiously, on the other hand, he can easily attribute this case to a higher destiny and regard it as saving him from far greater harm, as leading him to a higher good. This suffices for the sufferer; but the convalescent rises to his feet highly gifted, trusts God and himself and feels himself saved, really takes up also what happens by chance, turns it to, his advantage, in order to begin an eternally fresh life's cycle.” All things working in the world appear to Goethe as modifications of the spirit, and a person who immerses himself in them and observes them, from the level of chance happenings up to that of genius, lives through the metamorphosis of the spirit, from the form in which this spirit presents itself in an outer manifestation not resembling itself, up to the form in which the spirit appears in its own most archetypal form. In the sense of the Goethean world view all creative forces work in a unified way. They are a totality manifesting in successive levels of related manifoldnesses. But Goethe was never inclined to picture the unity of the world to himself as uniform. Adherents of the idea of unity often fall into the mistake of extending what can be observed in one region of phenomena out over all of nature. The mechanistic world view, for example, is in this situation. It has a particularly good eye and understanding for what can be explained mechanically. Therefore only the mechanical seems to it to be in accordance with nature. It seeks to trace even the phenomena of organic nature back to a mechanical lawfulness. A living thing is for it only a complicated form of the working together of mechanical processes. Goethe found such a world view expressed in a particularly repellent form in Holbach's Systeme de la Nature, which came into his hands in Strassburg. One matter supposedly exists from all eternity and has moved for all eternity, and now, with this motion, supposedly brings forth right and left and on all sides, without more ado, the infinite phenomena of existence. “We would indeed have been satisfied with this, if the author had really built up the world before our eyes out of his moving matter. But he might know as little about nature as we do, for as soon as he has staked up a few general concepts, he leaves nature at once, in order to transform what appears as something higher than nature or as a higher nature in nature, into a nature that is material, heavy, moving, to be sure, but still without direction or shape, and he believes that he has gained a great deal by this” (Poetry and Truth, second book). Goethe would have expressed himself in a similar way if he could have heard Du Bois-Reymond's statement (Limits to Knowing Nature, page 13): “Knowledge of nature ... is a tracing of the changes in the corporeal world back to the movements of atoms which are caused by their central forces, independent of time, or it is a dissolving of all the processes of nature into the mechanics of the atoms.” Goethe thought the different kinds of nature workings to be related to each other and as passing over into one another; but he never wanted to trace them back to one single kind. He was not striving for one abstract principle to which all the phenomena of nature should be traced, but rather he strove for observation of the characteristic way in which creative nature manifested its general lawfulness in particular forms within every single one of its realms. He did not want to force one thought form upon the whole of nature's phenomena, but rather, by living into the different thought forms, he wanted to keep his spirit as lively and pliable as nature itself is. When the feeling of the great unity of all nature's working was powerful in him, then he was a pantheist. “I for myself, with all the manifold tendencies of my nature, cannot get enough from one way of thinking; as poet and artist I am a polytheist, as natural scientist a pantheist, and am one just as positively as the other. If I need a God for my personality as a moral person, that is also already provided for” (to Jacobi, January 6, 1813). As artist, Goethe turned to those phenomena of nature in which the idea is present to direct perception. The single thing appeared here directly as divine; the world as a multiplicity of divine individualities. As natural scientist Goethe had to follow the forces of nature also into phenomena whose idea does not become visible in its individual existence. As poet he could be at peace with himself about the multiplicity of the divine; as natural scientist he had to seek the ideas of nature, which worked in a unified way. “The law, that comes into manifestation in the greatest freedom, in accordance with its most archetypal conditions, brings forth what is objectively beautiful, which, to be sure, must find worthy subjects by whom it can be grasped.” This objectively beautiful within the individual creature is what Goethe as artist wants to behold; but as natural scientist he wants “to know the laws according to which universal nature wants to act.” Polytheism is the way of thinking which sees and reveres something spiritual in the single thing; pantheism is the other way, which grasps the spirit of the whole. Both ways of thinking can exist side by side; the one or the other comes into play according to whether one's gaze is directed upon nature's wholeness, which is life and sequence out of a center, or upon those individuals in which nature unites in one form what it as a rule spreads out over a whole realm. Such forms arise when, for example, the creative forces of nature, after “thousandfold plants,” make yet one more, in which “all the others are contained,” or “after thousandfold animals make one being which contains them all: man.”

[ 2 ] Goethe once made the remark: “Whoever has learned to understand them (my writings) and my nature in general will have to admit after all that he has won a certain inner freedom” (Conversations with Chancellor F. von Mueller, January 5, 1831). With this he was pointing to the working power which comes into play in all human striving to know. As long as man stops short at perceiving the antitheses around him and at regarding their laws as principles implanted in them by which they are governed, he has the feeling that they confront him a! unknown powers, which work upon him and impose upon hill the thoughts of their laws. He feels himself to be unfree with respect to the things; he experiences the lawfulness of nature as rigid necessity into which he must fit himself. Only when man becomes aware that the forces of nature are nothing other than forms of the same spirit which also works in himself does the insight arise in him that he does partake of freedom. The lawfulness of nature is experienced as compelling only as long as one regards it as an alien power. Living into its being, one experiences it as a power which one also exercises in one's own inner life; one experiences oneself as a productive element working along with the becoming and being of things. One is on intimate terms with any power that has to do with becoming. One has taken up into one's own doing what one otherwise experiences only as outer incentive. This is the process of liberation which is effected by the act of knowledge, in the sense of the Goethean world view. Goethe clearly perceived the ideas of nature's working as he encountered them in Italian works of art. He had a clear experience also of the liberating effect whiM the possession of these ideas has upon man. A result of this experience is his description of that kind of knowledge which he characterizes as that of encompassing individuals. “The encompassing ones, whom one in a prouder sense could call the creative ones, conduct themselves productively in the highest sense; insofar, namely, as they take their start from ideas, they express already the unity of the whole, and afterward it is in a certain way up to nature to fit in with this idea.” But Goethe never got to the point of having a direct view of the act of liberation itself. Only that person can have this view who in his knowing is attentive to himself. Goethe, to be sure, practiced the highest kind of knowledge; but he did not observe this kind of knowledge in himself. He admits to himself, after all:

“How did you get so very far?
They say you have done it all wonderfully well!”
My child! In this I have been smart;
I never have thought about thinking at all.

[ 3 ] But just as the creative nature forces, “after thousandfold plants,” make still one more in which “all the others are contained,” so do they also, after thousandfold ideas, bring forth still one more in which the whole world of ideas is contained. And man grasps this idea when, to his perception of the other things and processes he adds that of thinking as well. Just because Goethe's thinking was continuously filled with the objects of perception, because his thinking was a perceiving, his perceiving a thinking, he could not come to the point of making thinking itself into an object of thinking. One attains the idea of freedom, however, only by looking at thinking. Goethe did not make the distinction between thinking about thinking and looking at thinking. Otherwise he would have attained the insight that one, precisely in the sense of his world view, could very well reject thinking about thinking, but that one could nevertheless come to a beholding of the thought world. Man is uninvolved in the coming about of everything else he sees. The ideas of what he sees arise in him. But these ideas would not be there if there were not present in him the productive power to bring them to manifestation. Even though ideas are the conten1 of what works within the things, they come into manifest existence through human activity. Man can therefore know the intrinsic nature of the world of ideas only if he looks at his activity. With everything else he sees he penetrates only into the idea at work in it; the thing, in which the idea works, remains as perception outside of his spirit. When he looks at the idea, what is working and what is brought forth are both entirely contained within his inner life. He has the entire process totally present if his inner life. What he sees no longer appears as brought ford by the idea; for what he sees is itself now idea. To see something bringing forth itself is, however, to see freedom. In observing his thinking man sees into world happening. Here he does no have to search after an idea of this happening, for this happening is the idea itself. What one otherwise experiences as the unity of what is looked at and the ideas is here the experiencing of the spirituality of the world of ideas become visible. The person who beholds this self-sustaining activity feels freedom. Goethe in fact experienced this feeling, but did not express it in its highest form. In his looking at nature he exercised a free activity, but this activity never became an object of perception for him. He never saw behind the scenes of human knowing and therefore never took up into his consciousness the idea of world happening in its most archetypal form, in its highest metamorphosis. As soon as a person attains a view of this metamorphosis, he then conducts himself with sureness in the realm of things. In the center of his personality he has won the true starting point for all consideration of the world. He will no longer search for unknown foundations, for the causes lying outside him, of things; he knows that the highest experience of which he is capable consists of self-contemplation of his own being. Whoever is completely permeated with the feelings which this experience calls forth will gain the truest relationships to things. A person for whom this is not the case will seek the highest form of existence elsewhere, and, since he cannot find it within experience, will suppose it to be in an unknown region of reality. Uncertainty will enter into his considerations of things; in answering the questions which nature poses him, he will continually call upon something he cannot investigate. Because, through his life in the world of ideas, Goethe had a feeling of the firm center within his personality, he succeeded, within certain limits, in arriving at sure concepts in his contemplation of nature. But because he lacked a direct view of his innermost experiences, he groped about uncertainly outside these limits. For this reason he says that man is not born “to solve the problems of the world but in fact to seek where the problem begins, and then to keep oneself within the limits of what is understandable.” He says, “Kant has unquestionably been of most use in his drawing of the limits to which the human spirit is capable of penetrating, and through the fact that he J unsolvable problems lie.” If a view of man's highest experience! had given him certainty in his contemplation of things, then he would have been able to do more along his path than “through regulated experience, to attain a kind of qualified trustworthiness.” Instead of proceeding straight ahead through his experiences in the consciousness that the true has significance only insofar as it is demanded by human nature, he still arrives at the conviction that a “higher influence helps those who are steadfast, active, understanding, disciplined and disciplining, humane, devout” and that “the moral world order” manifests itself most beautifully where it “comes indirectly to the aid of the good person, of the courageously suffering person.”

[ 4 ] Because Goethe did not know the innermost human' experience, it was not possible for him to attain the ultimate thoughts about the moral world order which necessarily belong to his view of nature. The ideas of the things are the content of what works and creates within the things. Man experiences moral ideas directly in the form of ideas. Whoever is able to experience how, in his beholding of the world of ideas, the ideal element itself becomes content, fills itself with itself, is also in a position to experience the production of the moral within human nature. Whoever knows the ideas of nature only in their relation to the world we behold will also want to relate moral concepts to something external to them. He will seek for these concepts a reality similar to that which is present for concepts won from experience. But whoever is able to view ideas in their most essential being will become aware, with moral ideas, that nothing external corresponds to them, that they are directly produced as ideas in spiritual experience. It is clear to him that neither a divine will, working only outwardly, nor a moral world order of a like sort are at work to produce these ideas. For there is in them nothing to be seen of any relation to such powers! Everything they express is also contained within their spiritually experienced pure idea-form. Only through their own content do they work upon man as moral powers. No categorical imperative stands behind them with a whip and forces man to follow them. Man feels that he himself has brought them forth and loves them the way one loves one's child. Love is the motive of his action. The spiritual pleasure in one's own creation is the source of the moral.

[ 5 ] There are people who are unable to produce any moral ideas. They take up into themselves the moral ideas of other people through tradition, and if they have no ability to behold ideas as such, they do not recognize the origin, experienceable in the spirit, of the moral. They seek it in a supra-human will outside themselves. Or they believe that there exists, outside the spirit world which man experiences, an objective moral world order from which the moral ideas stem. The speech organ of that world order is often sought in the conscience of man. As with certain things in the rest of his world view, Goethe is also uncertain in his thoughts about the origin of the moral. Here also his feeling for what is in accord with ideas brings forth statements which are in accord with the demands of his nature. “Duty: where one loves what one commands oneself to do.” Only a person who sees the foundations of the moral purely in the content of moral ideas should say: “Lessing, who resentfully felt many a limitation, has one of his characters say, ‘No one has to have to.’ A witty jovial man said, ‘Whoever wants to has to.’ A third, admittedly a cultivated person, added, ‘Whoever has insight, also wants to.’ And in this way it was believed that the whole circle of knowing, wanting, and having to had been closed. But in the average case, man's knowledge, no matter what kind it is, determines what he does or doesn't do; for this reason there is also nothing worse than to see ignorance in action.” The following statement shows that in Goethe a feeling for the true nature of the moral held sway, but did not rise into clear view: “In order to perfect itself the will must, in its moral life, give itself over to conscience which does not err ... Conscience needs no ancestor; with conscience everything is given; it has to do only with one's own inner world.” To state that conscience needs no ancestor can only mean that man does not originally find within himself any moral content; he gives this content to himself. Other statements stand in contrast to these, setting the origin of the moral into a region outside man: “Man, no matter how much the earth attracts him with its thousand upon thousand manifestations, nevertheless lifts up his gaze longingly toward heaven ... because he feels deeply and clearly within himself that he is a citizen of that spiritual realm which we are not able to deny nor give up our belief.” “We leave to God, as the all-determining and all-liberating Being, what is totally insoluble.”

[ 6 ] Goethe lacks the organ for the contemplation of man's innermost nature, for self-perception. “I hereby confess that from the beginning the great and significant sounding task, Know thou thyself, has always seemed suspect to me, as a ruse of secretly united priests who wanted to confuse man with unattainable demands and to seduce him away from activity in the outer world into an inner false contemplation. Man knows himself only insofar as he knows the world which he becomes aware of only within himself and himself only within it. Every new object which we really look at opens up a new organ within us.” Exactly the reverse of this is true: man knows the world only insofar as he knows himself. For in his inner life there reveals itself in its most archetypal form what is present to view in outer things only in reflection, in example, symbol. What man otherwise can only speak of as something unfathomable, undiscoverable, divine, comes into view in its true form in self-perception. Because in self-perception he sees what is ideal in its direct form, he gains the strength and ability to seek out and recognize this ideal element also in all outer phenomena, in the whole of nature. Someone who has experienced the moment of self-perception no longer thinks in terms of seeking some “hidden” God behind phenomena: he grasps the divine in its different metamorphoses in nature. Goethe remarked, with respect to Schelling: “I would see him more often if I did not still hope for poetic moments; philosophy destroys poetry for me, and does so for the good reason that it drives me to the object because I can never remain purely speculative but must seek right away a perception for every principle and therefore flee right away out into nature.” He was in fact not able to find the highest perception, the perception of the world of ideas itself. This perception cannot destroy poetry, for it only frees one's spirit from all supposition that there might be an unknown, unfathomable something in nature. But for this reason it makes him capable of giving himself over entirely, without preconceptions, to things; for it gives him the conviction that everything can be drawn from nature that the spirit can ever want from it.

[ 7 ] But this highest perception liberates man's spirit also from all one-sided feeling of dependency. He feels himself, through having this view, to be sovereign in the realm of the moral world order. He knows that the driving power which brings forth everything works in his inner life as within his own will, and that the highest decisions about morality lie within himself. For these highest decisions flow out of the world of moral ideas, in whose production the soul of man is present. Even though a person may feel himself restricted in part, may also be dependent upon a thousand things, on the whole he sets himself his moral goal and his moral direction. What is at work in all other things comes to manifestation in the human being as idea; what is at work in him is the idea which he himself brings forth. In every single human individuality a process occurs that plays itself out in the whole of nature: the creation of something actual out of the idea. And the human being himself is the creator. For upon the foundation of his personality there lives the idea which gives a content to itself. Going beyond Goethe one must broaden his principle that nature is “great enough in the wealth of its creation to make, after thousandfold plants, one in which all the others are contained, and to make, after thousandfold animals, one being that contains them all: man.” Nature is so great in its creation that it repeats in every human individual the process by which it brings forth freely out of the idea all creatures, repeats it through the fact that moral actions spring from the ideal foundation of the personality. Whatever a person also feels to be an objective reason for his action is only a transcribing and at the same time a mistaking of his own being. The human being realizes himself in his moral actions. Max Stirner has expressed this knowledge in lapidary words in his book, The Single Individual and What Is His Own. “It lies in my power to be my own person, and this is so when I know myself as a single individual. Within the single individual even someone who is his own person returns to the creative nothingness out of which he is born. Every higher being over me, be it God or man, weakens the feeling of my singleness and pales only before the sun of this consciousness. If I base my affairs upon myself, the single individual, then they rest upon their own transitory mortal creator, who devours himself, and I can say that I have based my affairs upon nothing.” But at the same time one can tell this Stirnerian spirit what Faust told Mephistopheles: “In your nothingness I hope to find my all,” for there dwells in my inner life in an individual form the working power by which nature creates the universe. As long as a person has not beheld this working power within himself, he will appear with respect to it the way Faust did with respect to the earth spirit. This working power will always call out to him the words, “You resemble the spirit that you can grasp, not me!” Only the beholding of one's deepest inner life conjures up this spirit, who says of itself:

In the tides of life, in action's storm,
Up and down I wave,
To and fro weave free,
Birth and the grave,
An infinite sea,
A varied weaving,
A radiant living,
Thus at Time's humming loom it's my hand that prepares
The robe ever-living the Deity wears,
(Priest's translation)

[ 8 ] I have tried to present in my Philosophy of Spiritual Activity how knowledge of the fact that man in his doing is based upon himself comes from the most inward experience, from the beholding of his own being. In 1844 Stirner defended the view that man, if he truly understands himself, can see only in himself the basis for his activity. With Stirner, however, this knowledge does not arise from a beholding of his innermost experience but rather from the feeling of freedom and independence from all world powers that require coercion. Stirner stops short at demanding freedom; he is led in this area to put the bluntest possible emphasis upon the human nature which is based upon itself. I am trying to describe the life in freedom on a broader basis, by showing what man sees when he looks into the foundation of his soul. Goethe did not go as far as to behold freedom, because he had an antipathy for self-knowledge. If that had not been the case, then knowledge of man as a free personality founded upon himself would have had to be the peak of his world view. The germ of this knowledge is to be found everywhere in his works; [ 9 ] it is at the same time the germ of his view of nature. In his actual nature studies Goethe never speaks of unexplorable foundations, of hidden driving Powers of phenomena. He contents himself with observing the phenomena in their sequence and of explaining them with the help of those elements which, during observation, reveal themselves to the senses and to the spirit. In this vein he writes to Jacobi on May 5, 1786 that he has the courage “to devote his whole life to the contemplation of the things which he can hope to reach” and of whose being “he can hope to form an adequate idea,” without bothering himself in the least about how far he will get and about what is cut out for him. A person who believes he can draw near to the divine in the individual objects of nature no longer needs to form a particular mental picture for himself of a God that exists outside of and beside the things. It is only when Goethe leaves the realm of nature that his feeling for the being of things no longer holds up. Then his lack of human self-knowledge leads him to make assertions which are reconcilable neither with his inborn way of thinking nor with the direction of his nature studies. Someone who is inclined to cite these assertions might assume that Goethe believed in an anthropomorphic God and in the individual continuation of that life-form of the soul which is bound up with the conditions of the physical bodily organization. Such a belief stands in contradiction to Goethe's nature studies. They could never have taken the direction they did if in them Goethe had allowed himself to be determined by this belief. It lies totally in the spirit of his nature studies to think the being of the human soul such that, after laying aside the body, it lives in a supersensible form of existence. This form of existence requires that the soul, because of different life requirements, also take on a different kind of consciousness from the one it has through the physical body. In this way the Goethean teaching of metamorphosis leads also to the view of metamorphoses of soul life. But this Goethean idea of immortality can be regarded correctly only if one knows that Goethe had not been able to be led by his world view to an unmetamorphosed continuation of that spiritual life which is determined by the physical body. Because Goethe, in the sense indicated here, did not attempt to view his life of thought, he was also not moved in his further life's course to develop particularly this idea of immortality which would be the continuation of his thoughts on metamorphosis. This idea, however, would in truth be what would follow from his world view with respect to this region of knowledge. Whatever expression he gave to a personal feeling about the view of life of this or that contemporary, or out of any other motivation, without his thinking thereby of the connection to the world view won through his nature studies, may not be brought forward as characteristic of Goethe's idea of immortality.

[ 10 ] For the evaluation of a Goethean statement within the total picture of his world view there also comes into consideration the fact that his mood of soul in his different stages of life gives particular nuances to such statements. He was fully conscious of these changes in the form of expression of his ideas. When Foerster expressed the view that the solution to the Faust problem is to be found in the words, “A good man is in his dim impulse well aware of his right path,” Goethe responded, “That would be rationalism. Faust ends up as an old man, and in old age we become mystics.” And in his prose aphorisms we read, “A certain philosophy answers to each age of man. The child appears as realist; for he finds himself as convinced of the existence of pears and apples as of his own. The youth, assailed by inner passions, must take notice of himself, feel his way forward; he is transformed into an idealist. On the other hand the grown man has every reason to become a skeptic; he does well to doubt whether the means he has chosen for his purpose are indeed the right ones. Before acting and in acting he has every reason to keep his intellect mobile, so that afterward he does not have to feel badly about a wrong choice. The old man, however, will always adhere to mysticism; he sees that so much seems to depend upon chance; what is unreasonable succeeds; what is reasonable goes amiss; fortune and misfortune turn unexpectedly into the same thing; it is so, it was so, and old age attains peace in what is, what was, and will be.”

[ 11 ] I am focusing in this book upon the world view of Goethe out of which his insights into the life of nature have grown and which was the driving force in him from his discovery of the intermaxillary bone in man up to the completion of his studies on color. And I believe I have shown that this world view corresponds more perfectly to the total personality of Goethe than does any compilation of statements in which one would have to take into account how such thoughts are colored by the mood of his youthful period or by that of his old age. I believe that Goethe in his studies of nature, although not guided by a clear self-knowledge in accord with ideas, was guided by a right feeling and did observe a free way of working which flowed from a true relationship between human nature and the outer world. Goethe is himself clear about the fact that there is something incomplete about his way of thinking: “I was aware of having great and noble purposes but could never understand the determining factors under which I worked; I was well aware of what I lacked, and likewise of what I had too much of; therefore I did not cease to develop myself, outwardly and from within. And still it was as before. I pursued every purpose with earnestness, force, and faithfulness; in doing so I often succeeded in completely overcoming stubborn conditions but also often foundered because I could not learn to give in and to go around. And so my life went by this way, in doing and enjoying, in suffering and resisting, in the love, contentment, hatred, and disapproval of others. Find yourself mirrored here whoever's destiny was the same.”

(From the opening pages of the last chapter of Rudolf Steiner's Riddles of Philosophy, 1914)

Whoever studies the development of philosophical world views up to the present day can discover in the seeking and striving of some thinkers undercurrents that in a certain way do not break through into consciousness but rather live on instinctively. Powers are at work in these undercurrents that determine the direction—and often the form as well—of the ideas of these thinkers; these thinkers do not want to turn their searching spiritual gaze directly upon these powers, however. What they say often seems motivated by hidden forces, which they do not want to investigate, and from which they even recoil in fear. Such forces live in the thought-worlds of Dilthey, of Eucken, and of Cohen. The beliefs presented in these thought-worlds are the expression of cognitive powers that govern these philosophers unconsciously, but that are not consciously elaborated in their thought-systems.

Sureness and certainty in knowing are sought in many systems of thought. The direction followed takes its point of departure more or less from Kant's way of picturing things. The natural-scientific mode of thinking has a definitive influence, consciously or unconsciously, upon the way one shapes one's thoughts. But many people sense that it is within the “soul that is conscious of itself” that the source is to be sought from which knowledge must draw in order also to gain enlightenment about the world outside the human soul. And almost all of them are dominated by the question: How does the self-conscious soul arrive at the point of seeing what it experiences within itself as being the manifestation of a true reality? The everyday sensory world has become an “illusion” because, in the course of philosophical development, the self-conscious “I” has more and more found itself in its inner experience to be isolated within itself. It has arrived at the point of regarding even sense perceptions as mere inner experiences that reveal no power within themselves able to guarantee their existence and permanence within reality. One feels how much depends upon finding, in the self-conscious “I,” a point of support for knowledge. In the course of investigations motivated by this feeling, however, one arrives at views that do not afford a means of penetrating with the “I” into a world that can carry existence in a satisfactory way.

Whoever seeks the explanation for this state of affairs can find it in the position toward outer reality taken by man's soul being, which has been detached from this outer reality of the world by the development philosophy has undergone. Man's soul being feels itself surrounded by a world that reveals itself to him first of all through the senses. But the soul has become attentive also to its own activity, to its inner, creative experiencing. The soul feels it to be an irrefutable truth that no light, no color can be revealed without an eye sensitive to light and color. Thus it feels something creative already in the activity of the eye. But if the eye itself creatively brings forth the color—which is what one must think according to this philosophy—where can I then find something that exists in itself, that does not owe its existence merely to my own creative power? If now even the revelations of the senses are only expressions of the soul's own power, must it not then to an even greater extent be thinking that wants to gain a picture of true reality? Is this thinking, however, not condemned to create pictures that are rooted in the character of man's soul life but that can never bear within themselves anything able to provide certainty in pressing forward to the sources of existence? Such questions are surfacing everywhere in the recent development of philosophy.

As long as one cherishes the belief that the world revealed to our senses represents something complete and self-sustaining, which one must investigate in order to know its inner being, one will not be able to escape the confusion caused by the above question. The human soul can produce its knowledge within itself only through its own creativity. That is a conviction which justifiably grows out of the presuppositions described in the chapter of this book on “The World as Illusion” and in the presentation of Hamerling's thoughts. But then, having arrived at this conviction, one will not surmount a certain obstacle to knowledge as long as one still has the following picture: that the world of the senses contains the true foundations of its existence within itself; and that, with what man himself creates within his soul, he must somehow copy something that lies outside the soul.

Only that knowledge will be able to surmount this obstacle which grasps with the spiritual eye the fact that everything perceived by the senses does not represent, through its own being, a finished, self-contained reality, but rather something incomplete, a half reality, as it were.

As soon as one assumes that the perceptions of the sense world present us with a complete reality, one will never arrive at an answer to the question: What do the soul's own creative productions have to add to this reality in the act of knowing? One will have to remain at the Kantian belief that the human being must regard his knowledge as the product of his own soul organization and not as something that reveals itself to him as a true reality. If reality, in its actual form and nature, lies outside the soul, then the soul cannot bring forth what corresponds to this reality, but only something that flows out of the soul's own organization.

Everything changes as soon as one recognizes that the organization of the human soul—with what it produces creatively itself in the activity of knowledge—does not move away from reality; rather, in the life it unfolds before all knowing activity, it conjures up a world that is not the real one. The human soul is placed into the world in such a way that, because of the soul's own nature, it makes things different than they really are. In a certain sense what Hamerling expresses in the following passage is justified: “Certain stimuli produce odors in our sense of smell. The rose, therefore, has no fragrance if no one smells it ... If that is not obvious to you, dear reader, and if your understanding shys away from this fact like a skittish horse, then read no further; leave this and every other book on philosophical matters unread; for you lack the necessary ability to grasp a fact without bias and to retain it in thought.” The way the sense world appears when man confronts it immediately does depend, without any doubt, upon the being and nature of his soul. But does it not follow from this that his soul in fact causes the world to appear as it does? Now an unbiased study shows how the unreal character of the sense-perceptible outer world stems from the fact that man, in his immediate confrontation with things, suppresses something in himself which in truth belongs to them. If then, out of his own creativity, he unfolds his inner life, if he allows what slumbers in the depths of his soul to rise up out of these depths, then, to what he beheld with his senses, he adds something more that makes the half reality into a full reality in the act of knowledge. It lies in the nature of the soul to extinguish, with its first look at things, something that belongs to their reality. Thus, for the senses, things are not as they are in reality but rather as the soul has made them. But their semblance (or their mere appearance) is due to the fact that the soul has first taken away from them something that belongs to them. By not stopping short at his first look at things, man, in his activity of knowing, then adds to them that which first reveals their full reality. In its activity of knowing, the soul does not add something to things that is an unreal element with respect to them; rather, before its activity of knowing, the soul has taken something from things that belongs to their true reality. It will be philosophy's task to realize that the world revealed to man is an “illusion” until he confronts it in knowing activity, but that the path of knowledge indicates the direction toward full reality. What man produces out of his own creativity in knowing appears to be an inner revelation of the soul only because man, before he has the cognitive experience, must close himself off from the essential being of things. He cannot yet see this essential being in things when he at first only confronts them. In knowing, he discovers for himself, through his own activity, what at first was hidden. Now if man regards as a reality what he has only perceived, then what is produced in the activity of knowing will appear to him as something he has added onto this reality. When he realizes that what he had only seemingly produced himself must be sought in the things, and that he had only kept this at a distance when he first looked at the things, then he will sense how his activity of knowing is a process of reality by which the soul progressively grows into world existence and broadens its inner, isolated experience into world-experience.

In a little book, Truth and Science, published in 1892, the author of the present book attempted to give a philosophical foundation to what has just been briefly indicated. He speaks there about perspectives that modern philosophy must open up if it is to surmount the obstacle that has resulted quite naturally from its own recent development. A certain philosophical viewpoint is presented in that book in the following words: “It is not the first form in which reality approaches the ‘I’ that is its true one; its true form is the final one, which the ‘I’ makes out of the first. That first form has no significance at all for the objective world and has that form only as a basis for the cognitive process. Therefore, it is not the form of the world given it by knowledge that is subjective; but rather the first form ‘given’ to the ‘I’ that is so.” The author's later philosophical attempt, The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity,¹ published in 1894, is a further elaboration of this viewpoint. His effort there is to establish a philosophical basis for a view indicated in that book in the following way: “It is not due to the objects that they are given to us at first without their corresponding concepts, but rather it is due to our spiritual organization. Our total being functions in such a way that, for each thing within reality, the pertinent elements flow to us from two sides: from the sides of perceiving and of thinking. How I am organized to grasp things has nothing to do with their nature. The split between perceiving and thinking is first present the moment I, the observer, approach the things.” And in the last chapter of the book: “The perception is the part of reality that is given objectively; the concept is the part given subjectively (through intuition). Our spiritual organization tears reality apart into these two factors. The one factor appears to perception; the other to intuition. Only the union of both, the perception incorporating itself lawfully into the universe, is full reality. If we look at mere perception by itself, we then have no reality, but rather a disconnected chaos; if we look at the lawfulness of our perceptions by itself, we then have to do merely with abstract concepts. The abstract concept does not contain reality; but the thinking observation does indeed do so that considers neither concept nor perception one-sidedly by itself, but rather the union of both.”

For someone who can make this point of view his own it is then possible to regard fruitful reality as being united with his soul life within the self-conscious “I.” This is the view toward which the evolution of philosophy has been striving since Greek times and which has revealed its first clearly recognizable traces in Goethe's world view.

It is becoming recognized that this self-conscious “I” does not experience itself as isolated within itself nor as being outside of the objective world; rather, the “I’s” separation from this world is only a phenomenon of human consciousness and can be overcome by the insight that, as a human being in a certain stage of development, man has assumed a temporary form for the “I” by expelling from consciousness the forces that unite the soul with the world. If these forces worked continuously in human consciousness, one would not then attain a powerful, self-contained consciousness of oneself. One could not experience oneself as an “I” conscious of itself. The development of self-consciousness therefore depends precisely upon the soul's being given the possibility of perceiving the world without that part of reality which the self-conscious “I” extinguishes at a certain stage—at the stage that precedes knowledge.

Thus, the cosmic forces in this part of reality work upon the being of the soul in such a way that they withdraw and conceal themselves in order to allow the self-conscious “I” to shine forth powerfully. The “I,” accordingly, must recognize that it owes its knowledge of itself to a factor that casts a veil over its knowledge of the world. It follows necessarily from this that everything which brings the soul to a powerful, energetic experience of the “I” renders invisible the deeper ground in which this “I” has its roots. But now all the knowledge that our ordinary consciousness has is of the kind that makes the self-conscious “I” powerful. The human being feels himself to be a self-conscious “I” through the fact that he perceives an outer world with his senses, through the fact that he experiences himself as outside of this outer world, and through the fact that he stands in a kind of relationship to this outer world that, at a certain stage of scientific investigation, makes the “world seem like an illusion.” If all this were not the case, the self-conscious “I” would not come to manifestation. If, therefore, in one's activity of knowing, one strives only to make a copy of what was already observed before one's knowing activity, then one gains no true experience of full reality, but only a copy of “half reality.”

If one acknowledges that this is how matters stand, one cannot then seek the answer to the riddles of philosophy within the experiences of the soul that present themselves to ordinary consciousness. This consciousness is called upon to strengthen the self-conscious “I”; striving to this end, it must veil our vision of the relationship between the “I” and the objective world; it cannot therefore show how the soul relates to the true world.

This explains why a cognitive striving that wishes to progress philosophically by using the approach of natural science or something similar must always arrive at a point where what it is striving for in the activity of knowing falls apart. This book has had to point to this falling apart in the case of many modern thinkers, for, basically, all scientific endeavor of modern times works with those scientific, cognitive means that serve to detach the self-conscious “I” from true reality. And the strength and greatness of modern science, especially of natural science, are founded upon the unrestrained application of these cognitive means.

Individual philosophers like Dilthey, Eucken, and others direct their philosophical studies toward the soul's observation of itself. But what they study are those experiences of the soul which provide the basis for the self-conscious “I.” Therefore they do not penetrate into those wellsprings of the world where the soul's experiences well forth from true reality. These wellsprings cannot lie where the soul at first confronts and observes itself with its ordinary consciousness. If the soul wants to arrive at these wellsprings, it must get out of this ordinary consciousness. It must experience something in itself that this consciousness cannot give it. To our ordinary knowledge such an experience seems at first sheer nonsense. The soul is supposed to experience itself knowingly in some element without bringing its consciousness along with it into this element?! One is supposed to skip over consciousness and still remain conscious at the same time?! And yet: in philosophical endeavors one will either continue to arrive at impossibilities, or one will have to entertain the prospect that the “sheer nonsense” just indicated only seems to be so, and that precisely it points the way to where help must be sought in solving the riddles of philosophy.

One will have to acknowledge that the path “into the inner being of the soul” must be a completely different one than that chosen by many a recent world view. As long as one takes soul experiences the way they are presented to ordinary consciousness, one will not enter into the depths of the soul. One will be limited to what these depths send up. Eucken's world view is in this situation. One must strive downward, below the surface of the soul. But one cannot do this with the means of ordinary soul experience. Their strength lies precisely in the fact that they maintain the soul in this ordinary consciousness.

Means of penetrating more deeply into the soul present themselves when one directs one's gaze upon something that is, to be sure, also at work in ordinary consciousness, but which, in its work, does not enter this consciousness at all. When a person thinks, his consciousness is directed toward his thoughts. He wants to picture something through his thoughts; he wants to think correctly in the ordinary sense. But one can also focus one's attention on something else. One can fix one's spiritual gaze upon the activity of thinking as such. For example, one can place in the center of one's consciousness a thought that does not relate to anything external, that is thought as a kind of» symbol without any regard at all for the fact that it might represent something external. One can now continue to hold onto such a thought for a time. While one perseveres in this way, one can live entirely into what the soul itself is doing inwardly. The important thing here is not that one live in thoughts, but rather that one experience the activity of thinking. In this way the soul breaks away from what it accomplishes in its ordinary thinking. When the soul has continued this inner practice long enough, it will recognize after a time that it has become involved with experiences which detach it from that thinking and picturing which are bound to the bodily organs. One can accomplish something similar with the soul's activities of feeling and willing; yes, even with its sensing and perceiving of outer things. One will achieve something along this path only if one does not shrink from acknowledging that one cannot undertake self-knowledge of the soul simply by looking at the inner life that is usually present, but rather by looking at what must first be disclosed by inner, soul work—by soul work which, through practice, arrives at such concentration upon the inner activity of thinking, feeling, and willing that these experiences become in a certain way spiritually “densified” within themselves (sich geistig in sich “verdichten”). In this “densified state” they then reveal their inner being, which cannot be perceived in ordinary consciousness. Through such soul work one discovers that in order for ordinary consciousness to arise, one's soul forces must become “rarefied” (sich “verdünnen”) in this way and that in this rarefied state they become unperceivable. The soul work meant here consists in the unlimited enhancement of soul capacities known also to ordinary consciousness but which this consciousness does not employ in their enhanced state. These are the capacities for attentiveness (Aufmerksamkeit) and for loving devotion² to what is experienced by the soul. In order to achieve the spiritual densification indicated here, one must enhance these capacities to such a degree that they work as entirely new powers of the soul.

By proceeding in this way, one grasps within the soul a real experience whose actual being proves to be independent of the restrictions of the bodily organs. This is a spiritual life that must not be confused conceptually with what Dilthey and Eucken call the spiritual world, for their spiritual world is experienced by the human being only when he is connected with his bodily organs. What we mean here by spiritual life is not present for the soul that is bound up with the body.

And a true knowledge of our ordinary soul life does present itself as one of our first experiences when this new spiritual life has been attained. In reality, even our ordinary spiritual life is not produced by the body, but rather runs its course outside the body. When I see a color, when I hear a sound, I do not experience the color or sound as resulting from my body; rather, as a self-conscious “I,” I am connected outside of my body with the color or sound. The task of the body is to function as a kind of mirror. If, in my ordinary consciousness, I am connected with a color only with my soul, then, because of the nature of this consciousness, I can perceive nothing of the color. Similarly, I cannot see my own face when I look forward, but if a mirror is in front of me, I perceive my face as an objective body. If I do not stand in front of a mirror, I am this body and experience myself as such. Standing in front of a mirror, I perceive this body as a reflection. It is like this also with sense perception (one must of course recognize the insufficiency of any analogy). I live with the color outside of my body; through the activity of my body (of my eye, of my nervous system) the color becomes a conscious perception for me. The human body is not a producer of perceptions—nor of any soul life; rather, it is an apparatus for reflecting what takes place in a soul-spiritual way outside of the body.

Such a view places epistemology upon a promising basis. “One will ... arrive epistemologically at a ... picture of the ‘I’ not when one pictures it (the ‘I’) as being within the bodily organization and as receiving impressions ‘from outside,’ but rather when one regards this ‘I’ as located within the lawfulness of the things themselves and when one sees the bodily organization only as a kind of mirror; by means of the organic processes of the body, the weaving of the ‘I’ within the true being of the world outside the body is reflected back to the ‘I.’” Thus—in a lecture entitled “The Psychological Basis and Epistemological Position of Spiritual Science” prepared for the Philosophical Congress in Bologna in 1911—did the author of this book seek to characterize the perspective hovering before him of an epistemology.

During sleep the mirror-like relationship of the body to the soul is interrupted; the “I” lives only within the weaving of what is soul-spiritual. For ordinary consciousness, however, no experience of the soul is present if the body does not mirror these experiences. Therefore sleep runs its course unconsciously. The result of the soul exercises indicated above and of others like them is that the soul unfolds a different consciousness than its ordinary one. The soul attains thereby the capacity not only for experiencing in a soul-spiritual way, but also for strengthening in itself what is experienced, so that what is experienced reflects itself in a certain way within itself—without the help of the body—and thus arrives at spiritual perception. And only in what is thus experienced can the soul first truly know itself and consciously experience itself in its essential being.

Just as memory conjures up out of the depths of the soul physically experienced facts from the past, so—for a soul that has prepared itself for this by the means indicated above—there arise from the soul's inner depths substantial experiences that do not belong to the world of sense existence but rather to a world in which the soul has its fundamental being.

It is only too obvious that the adherents of many modern points of view will consign the world revealed here to the realm of mental aberration, of illusion, of hallucination, of auto-suggestion, and the like. One can only answer them that an earnest striving of the soul—working in the way just indicated—finds, in the inner, spiritual state which it has developed, the means to distinguish between illusion and spiritual reality; and these means are just as sure as those used in ordinary life, in a healthy state of soul, to distinguish between something imaginary and something actually perceived. One will search in vain for theoretical proof that the spiritual world characterized above is real; but such proof of the reality of the perceptual world does not exist either. In both cases it is the experience itself that determines how one is to judge.

What keeps many people from taking the step which, according to our presentation, alone offers a prospect of solving the riddles of philosophy is that they believe such a step will land them in a realm of nebulous mysticism. But anyone who has no soul predisposition toward such nebulous mysticism will, along the path just described, gain access to a world of soul experience that is just as crystal clear in itself as the structures of mathematical ideas. To be sure, if someone is inclined to seek the spiritual in some “dark unknown,” in something “that cannot be explained,” then he will not find his way on this path either as knowledgeable adherent or as opponent.

It is also easy to understand that what is indicated here will be strongly resisted by those who want to regard the natural-scientific approach to knowing the sense world as the only true scientific way. Nevertheless, whoever casts off such one-sidedness will be able to recognize that it is precisely the genuine natural-scientific attitude that provides the basis for undertaking what has been described here. The ideas described in this book as constituting the modern natural-scientific approach provide the best practice thoughts to which the soul can devote itself and upon which it can dwell in order to free itself in its inner experiences from its connectedness to the body. Whoever uses these natural-scientific ideas and proceeds with them in the way described here will discover that, through inner spiritual practice, thoughts that originally seem meant only to portray natural processes, really free the soul from the body, and that therefore the spiritual science referred to here must be seen as a continuation of a natural-scientific way of thinking that is rightly experienced by the soul.

• 1. Anthroposophic Press, 1986
• 2. Hingabe: literally, “a giving oneself over to” something. -Ed.