The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Today I wish to speak about the following question: with what forces are we really working when we work educationally? Actually, this question cannot be answered in any definite sense by the culture of today. We can say, of course, that the outer life within which human beings stand, making it possible for them to earn a living, requires them to have capacities that they cannot have yet as children. We must impart such capacities to them. The behavior proper for adults is also, perhaps, something that the child cannot acquire by himself; it must be imparted to him through education. But the answer to the question—why do we actually educate?—remains something rather superficial in modern culture, because the adult today does not really see anything of great value in what he became through the teaching and education he received. He does not look back with any particularly deep gratitude to what he has become through his education. Ask yourself in your own heart whether this gratitude is always alive in you. In individual cases, of course, it may be present on reflection, but on the whole we do not think with deep gratitude about our own education, because the human soul (Gemüt) does not have a full realization of what education actually means, nor which forces in human nature are quickened by it. That is why it is so difficult nowadays to arouse in people enthusiasm for education. All our methods, all our ingenious, formed, outer methods of education, are of little value in this respect. Answers to the question—how can this or that be achieved?—are of little use. What is of the greatest importance, however, is for a person to have enthusiasm in his work and to be able to develop this enthusiasm to the full if he is to be a true teacher. This enthusiasm is infectious, and it alone can work miracles in education. The child eagerly responds to enthusiasm, and, when there is no response on his part, it usually indicates a lack of this enthusiasm in the teacher.

As a kind of obvious secret, let me say that although a great deal has been said about enthusiasm here, when I go through the classes in the school I see a kind of depression, a kind of heaviness in the teachers. The lessons are really conducted with a certain heaviness. This heaviness must be eliminated. Actually, it may also express itself in artificial enthusiasm. Artificial enthusiasm can achieve nothing at all. The only enthusiasm capable of achieving anything is that kindled by our own living interest in the subjects with which we must deal in the classroom. Now, it is essential for you to realize that as teachers we need to develop a consciousness of our own. It is necessary for us to work at cultivating this consciousness. This work to develop our own consciousness is certainly made infinitely more difficult by the fact that in the higher grades we must take into account the impossible demands made upon our children from outside in preparation for graduation. This lies like a leaden burden upon the teaching in the higher grades. Nevertheless, it is essential not to lose sight of our own goal, and therefore we must work to develop this consciousness, the Waldorf teacher's consciousness, if I may so express it. This is only possible, however, when in the field of education we come to an actual experience of the spiritual. Such an experience of the spiritual is difficult to attain for modern humanity, and this fact must be faced and understood. We must realize that we really need something quite specific, something that is hardly present anywhere else in the world, if we are to be capable of mastering the task of the Waldorf school. In all humility, without any trace of pride or arrogance, we must become conscious of this, but conscious of it inwardly, deep in our hearts, not merely by talking about it; within our hearts we must be able to become conscious of it. This is possible, however, only if we have a clear understanding of what humanity has lost in this respect, has lost just in the last three or four centuries. It is this that we must find again.

What has been lost is the realization that when the human being enters the world out of his pre-earthly existence he is, compared with the actual forces of the being of man, a being who needs to be healed. This bond of education with the healing of man has been lost from sight. During a certain period of the Middle Ages, certainly, it was believed that the human being, as man on earth, was ill and that his health had to be restored; that the human being as he was on the earth actually stood below his proper level and that something real had to be done in order to make man truly man. This is often understood merely in a formal sense. It is said that the human being must evolve, must be brought to a higher level, but this is meant abstractly, not concretely. It will be interpreted concretely only when the activity of education is actually brought into connection with the activity of healing. In healing a sick person, one knows that something has actually been achieved: if the sick person has been made healthy, he has been raised to a higher level, to the level of the normal human being. In ancient times, those who knew the world mysteries regarded birth as synonymous with an illness, because, in fact, when the human being is born he falls in a certain sense below his proper level and is not the being he was in pre-earthly existence. In comparison with the higher human nature, it is really something abnormal for the human being to bear within him constituents of his body, to have to bear a certain heaviness. It would not be considered particularly intelligent today to say that, in comparison with the higher nature of man, it is of the nature of illness to have to struggle continually until death with the physical forces of the body. Without such radical conceptions, however, we cannot approach the reality of what education means. Education must have something of the process of healing. In order to make this clear, let me offer the following.

The human being really lives within four complexes of forces. In one he is active when he walks, moves his legs with a pendulum swing, or when he uses his legs in order to dance or make other movements. This movement, taking place in the outer, physical world of space, can also be pictured as bringing about changes of location in space. Similarly, other possibilities of human movement, of the arms, hands, head, eye muscles, and so forth, can be designated as changes in location of an ordinary inanimate body, that is to say, if we leave out of account the inner activity of the human being. This is one complex of forces within which the human being lives and is active.

The second is unfolded when man begins to work upon the physical substances that he absorbs into himself; in the widest sense this includes everything that belongs to the activity of nourishment. Whereas the limbs of man are the mediators of what man has in common with beings that change their physical location, there is another activity that man needs in order to continue the activity connected with the outer substances that man absorbs as nourishment. If you put a piece of sugar into your mouth, it dissolves. This is a continuation of what sugar is in the outer world. Sugar is hard and white. You dissolve it, and it becomes liquid, viscous, and then undergoes further changes. The chemist speaks of chemical changes, but that is not relevant here. The sugar continually changes. It is worked upon and absorbed into the whole organism. There you have a second kind of activity. This continues right into the rhythmic system, and then the rhythmic system takes over the activity of the digestive system. What happens in this second kind of activity of man, however, is very different from the human activity of moving the limbs or of moving the whole human body in the outer world. The activity of nourishment is quite different from the activity exercised when we move outwardly or, let us say, lift a weight. This activity of nourishment cannot proceed at all without the intervention, at every point of this activity, of the astral nature of the human being. The astral nature of the human being must permeate each individual part of this activity, of nourishment. In the activity that I have described as the activity of walking, grasping, and so on, we are dealing essentially with the same forces man makes use of that we can also verify physically. What really happens in these movements is that the etheric organism is set in motion and through its mediation arises a leverage movement that we can see in an act of grasping or walking. If we focus on the activity of walking or grasping, we need only consider that which we have in the physical world as it is inserted within the working of the etheric; then we have what happens in man. We never have this, however, if we consider the activity of nourishment. This can arise only if the astral body takes hold of processes that otherwise we have in the test tube. There astral forces above all must be at work, and a fact that is considered nary at all is that in this process physical forces no longer play a part. This is exceedingly interesting, because it is generally believed that in nourishment, for example, physical forces are at work. As soon as the human being no longer exists in relation to the outer world, the physical forces cease to have their raison d'etre; they are no longer active, no longer have any effect. In the activity of nourishment, the physical substances are worked upon by the astral and etheric. The physical effect of a piece of sulfur or salt outside the body has no significance within the body. Only the astral nature of a substance is seized hold of by the astral, and then the etheric-astral is the really active factor in nourishment.

Going further, we come to the activities taking place in the rhythmic nature of man, in the blood rhythm, in the breathing rhythm. In their inner constitution these activities are similar to the forces at work in the system of nourishment. They are the result of cooperation between the etheric and the astral, but in the activity of digestion the astral is in a certain respect weaker than the etheric, and in the rhythmic activity the astral becomes stronger than the etheric. In the rhythmic system the etheric withdraws more into the background (though actually only the etheric that is within the human being). The etheric outside the human being begins to take part again in the activity that is exercised in the rhythmic system of man, so that actually with the activity of breathing one has the force of man's inner etheric body, the force of the outer ether of the world, and the astral activity of man.

Now, picture to yourselves what is really going on when the human being breathes. The physical activity of carbon, oxygen, etc., is completely suppressed, but the combined working of the etheric outside, the etheric within, and the astral is a most important factor. This plays a great part. These are the forces, however, that we must know in any substance if we wish to speak of the healing effect of that substance. We cannot discover the extent to which a substance is a remedy if we do not know how that substance, when introduced into the body, is laid hold of by these three systems of forces. The whole of therapy depends upon knowledge of these three forces in connection with the substances used. Knowledge of the healing influence in the outer and inner etheric and in the astral is what constitutes therapy in the real sense. What does it mean when antimony, for example, is used as a remedy? It simply means that some form of antimony is introduced into the body; it is laid hold of in a certain way by the inner etheric forces, by the outer etheric forces that enter by way of the breathing, and by the astral forces in the human being. We realize the extent to which antimony is a remedy when we understand the effect of these three systems of forces on a substance within the human organism. [Rudolf Steiner and Ita Wegman, Fundamentals of Therapy, London, Rudolf Steiner Press, 1967.]

In ascending to the rhythmic activity, therefore, we come to recognize a much more delicate process than exists, for example, in the activity of nourishment. It is essentially this rhythmic activity that must be considered if we wish to recognize the healing effects. Unless we know how a particular substance affects the rhythm of breathing or the blood circulation, we cannot understand the nature of this substance as a remedy.

Now the strange thing is this. Whereas the doctor brings into operation the therapeutic forces in the unconscious, in the rhythmic system of the blood circulation or the breathing, as teachers we must bring the next higher stage into operation: that which is connected with the activity in the nerves, in the senses. This is the next metamorphosis of the remedy. What we do as teachers, is really to work in such a way on the physical human being that the substances that are taken up are subjected to the etheric activity and to the outer physical activity—namely, to perception, whenever something is perceived—and to the inner physical activity, that is to say, to the inner changes of location brought about mechanically through the human being moving himself. Whereas in the remedy are contained the outer and inner etheric and the astral, in education are contained outer physical forces (as in gymnastics) and inner physical forces. When the human being bows his head, a change takes place in his entire dynamic system; the center of gravity shifts a little, and so forth. In the workings of light upon the eye we have recognized outer physical forces in their greatest delicacy and refinement. Moreover, outer physical forces are operating when pressure is made on an organ of touch. We therefore have etheric activity, outer physical forces, and inner physical forces, that is to say, physical changes in the nervous system, destruction in the nervous system. These are true physical processes that are actually present only in the nervous system of the human being. It is with these three systems that we are essentially dealing as a teacher with the child. This is the higher metamorphosis of what is done in healing.

What kinds of activity are present in the human being? There are the movements of walking, grasping, the movement of the limbs, outer changes of location, the activity in the process of nourishment, the rhythmic activity—which is through and through a healing activity—and the perceiving activity if we regard it from outside. Regarded from within, educational activity is entirely a perceiving activity.

This will now give you deeper insight into the nature of man. You will be able to say to yourselves that, since factors are active in the rhythmic system that are healing factors, there is a doctor (Arzt) continually present in the human being. In fact, the whole rhythmic system is a doctor. The function of a doctor is to heal something, however, and if healing is needed there must be illness. If that is so, walking, grasping, digesting must be continual processes of illness, and breathing and blood circulation a continual healing. This is indeed the case. In modern science, however, where discrimination is lacking, it is not realized that the human being is continually becoming ill. Eating and drinking, especially, are processes that continually create illness. We cannot avoid continually injuring our health through eating and drinking. Eating and drinking to excess merely injure us more seriously, but we are always injuring ourselves to a slight degree. The rhythmic system, however, is continually healing this illness. Human life on the earth is a continual process of becoming ill and a continual healing. This process of becoming ill brings about a genuinely physical illness. What the human being does in intercourse with the outer world, the consequences of walking, grasping, and the like, is a more intense but less noticeable process of becoming ill. We must counter it through a higher process of healing, through a process of education, which is a metamorphosis of the healing process.

The forces inherent in education are metamorphoses of therapeutic forces: they are therapeutic forces transformed. The goal of all our educational thinking must be to transform this thinking so as to rise fruitfully from the level of physical thinking to spiritual thinking. In physical thinking we have two categories which, in our academic age, give rise to a barren enthusiasm that has such a terrible influence. We have only two concepts: right-wrong, true-false. To discover whether something is “true” or “false” is the highest ideal of those whose entire lives are given up to the world of academia. In the concepts “true” and “false,” however, there is so little reality. They are something formal, established by mere logic, which actually does nothing but combine and separate. The concepts of “true” and “false” are dreadfully barren, prosaic, and formal. The moment we rise to the truths of the spiritual world we can no longer speak of “true” and “false,” for in the spiritual world that would be as nonsensical as saying that to drink such and such a quantity of wine every day is “false.” The expression “false” here is out of place. One says something real regarding this only by saying that such a thing gives rise to illness. Correct or incorrect are outer, formal concepts, even regarding the physical. Pertaining to the spiritual world, the concepts of “true” and “false” should be discarded altogether. As soon as we reach the spiritual world we must substitute “healthy” and “ill” for “true” and “false.” If someone said about a lecture such as the one I gave here yesterday evening, that is “right,” it would mean nothing at all. In the physical world things can be “right”; in the spiritual world nothing is “wrong” or “right.” There, things are reality. After all, is a hunchback “true” or “false”? In such a case we cannot speak of right or wrong. A drawing may be false or correct, but not a plant; a plant however, can be healthy or diseased. In the spiritual world things are either healthy or ill, fruitful or unfruitful. In what one does there must be reality. If someone considers that a lecture such as I gave yesterday is healthy or health-bringing, that is to the point. If he simply considers it “right,” he merely shows that he cannot rise to the level where reality lies. It is a question of health or illness when we are dealing with spiritual truths, and it is precisely this that we must learn in connection with education. We must learn to regard things in their educational application as either healthy or unhealthy, injurious to health. This is of particular significance if one wishes to engender a true consciousness of oneself as a teacher. It may be said that engendering this consciousness begins with passing from the “true” and “false” of logic, to the reality of “healthy” or “ill.” Then we come quite close to understanding the principle of healing. This can be developed in concrete detail but we must also let ourselves be stimulated by a comprehensive knowledge of man, a knowledge of man in relation to the world around him.

In describing the breathing process, for example, according to modern science, no particular weight is laid on the essential factor, on the actual human factor.

It is said that the air consists of oxygen and nitrogen, leaving aside for the moment the other constituents. Man inhales oxygen along with a certain amount of nitrogen. He then exhales oxygen combined with carbon, and also nitrogen. The percentages are measured, and it is then believed that the essentials of the process have been described. Little account is taken, however, of the essentially human factor. This begins to dawn upon us when we consider the following. There is a definite percentage of nitrogen in the air that is good for breathing, and also a definite percentage of oxygen. Suppose a man comes to a region where the air is poor in nitrogen, containing less than the normal percentage. If the person breathes in this nitrogen-poor air, this air gradually becomes richer in nitrogen through his breathing. He exhales from his body nitrogen that he would not otherwise exhale in order to augment the nitrogen content of the air in his environment. I do not know whether any account is taken of this in physiology today. I have often pointed out that the human being living in air that is poor in nitrogen corrects this lack; he prefers to take nitrogen from his own organic substances, depriving them of it in order to augment the nitrogen content of the outside air. He does the same with respect to the normal content of oxygen in the air. The human being is so intimately related to his environment that the moment the environment is not as it ought to be, he corrects it, improves upon it. We thus may say that the human being is constituted in such a way that he needs nitrogen and oxygen not only for himself; it is even more necessary for him to have nitrogen and oxygen in certain percentages in his environment than within his own organism. The environment of a human being is more important for this subconscious forces than the make-up of his own body. The incredibly interesting fact is that through his instincts the human being has a far greater interest in his environment than in the make-up of his own body. This is something that can be proved by experiment, provided the experiments are arranged intelligently. It is only a question of arranging experiments in this realm. If our research institutes would only tackle such problems, what a vast amount there would be for them to do! The problems are there and are of tremendous importance. They are terribly important for education, too, for it is only now that we can ask why the human being needs an environment containing a particular amount of nitrogen and a particular amount of oxygen. We know that in the inner activity of nourishment or general growth, all kinds of combinations of substances are formed in the human being, revealing themselves in a definite way when man becomes a corpse. It is only in this dead form, however, that these things are investigated by science today.

Now the strange thing is that in the sphere of the human being that encompasses part of the rhythmic activity and part of the metabolic-limb activity, there: is a tendency for an activity to unfold between carbon and nitrogen. In the sphere that extends from the rhythmic upward to the nerve-sense activity, there is a tendency to unfold an activity between carbon and oxygen. It is truly interesting, if one observes a soul-constitution not worn out by dry scholarship, to see sparkling soda water, where the carbon dioxide appears in the liquid as the result of the interplay of carbon and oxygen. If one observes these bubbles one has directly and imaginatively a view of what goes on in the course of the rhythmic breathing activity from the lung system toward the head. The bubbling effervescence in sparkling water is a picture of what, in a fine and delicate way, plays upward toward the human head. Looking at a spring of sparkling water, we can say that this activity of the rising carbon dioxide is really similar, only in a coarser form, to a continual, inward activity within the human being that rises from the lungs to the head. In the head, something must continually be stimulated by a delicate, intimate sparkling-water activity; otherwise, the human being becomes stupid or dull. If we neglect to bring this effervescence of sparkling water to the head of a human being, then the carbon within him suddenly shows an inclination for hydrogen instead of oxygen. This rises up to the brain and produces “marsh gas,” such as is found in subterranean vaults, and then the human being becomes dull, drowsy, musty.

To begin with, these things confront us as inner—one would like to say—physical activities, but they are not really physical, for the production of marsh gas or carbon dioxide becomes in this case an inner spiritual life. We are not being led into materialism here but into the delicate weaving of the spiritual in matter.

Now if, in teaching languages, for example, we make the child learn too much vocabulary, if we make him memorize through an unconscious mechanization, this process can lead to the development of marsh gas in the head. If we bring as many living pictures as possible to the child, the effect is such that the breathing system lets the carbon dioxide effervesce toward the head. We therefore play a part, in fact, in something that makes either for health or illness. This shows us how as teachers we must demand a higher metamorphosis of the forces of healing. To be able to perceive these hidden relationships in the human organism kindles enthusiasm in the highest degree. We realize for the first time that the head is a remarkable vault that can be filled with either marsh gas or carbon dioxide. We feel we are standing before the deeper well-springs of existence.

In the next lecture, we shall study another activity, with which this activity must be brought into balance. This can happen, however, only when there is on the one hand the right kind of teaching in the musical sphere and, on the other, the right kind of teaching in lessons that are based upon outer perception (Anschauung) and not upon the musical sphere. Thus, our teaching takes shape, and our interest is aroused in the human being before us. To this something else must be added: the feeling of responsibility. The consciousness of a Waldorf teacher should be imbued with the realization that makes him say in all humility: people are let loose into the educational world today as if the totally blind were sent out to paint in color. Few know what is really taking place in education. It is no wonder that a blind man has no particular enthusiasm for painting in color; no wonder there is no real enthusiasm for education in the world! The moment we enter into education in the way described, however, the whole art of our education will provide the stimulus for this enthusiasm, and we shall feel that we are in touch with the well-springs of the world, and find the true feeling of responsibility. We realize that we can bring either health or illness. This enthusiasm on the one hand and a feeling of responsibility on the other: both must arise in us.

On the foundation of the material of the preceding lecture I must summarise some things calculated to throw light on the whole of what we considered and indeed to make it fruitful. Although all this can only be a preliminary outline, it is well that we are able to give two days to this study. In continuing our yesterday's subject which referred to the development and retrogression of the teeth I want to put before you some facts which should throw light on man in the state of health and sickness. It is inadvisable to take such explanations on too materialistic lines; for we should really regard such external occurrence, as, for instance, dental decay as the visible symptoms of a certain inner process; this process hides itself from external perception, but has consequences which are externally visible.

You will understand the whole process of dental formation, if viewed in the light of other processes in mankind, which appear quite remote; for instance, the phenomenon with which you are well acquainted but whose correct significance can only be judged in connection with tooth formation. Girls and young women have good teeth—and after their first confinement and childbirth their teeth are defective. This circumstance should help to explain the connection of toothache and defective teeth with the whole bodily constitution. There is another very interesting connection, between dental processes and the tendency to hæmorrhoids or piles; this also needs study. A study of these things proves that what has the most mineralising effect in the body of man—for dental formation is our most mineralising process—is also closely associated with the general process of organisation and shows this association and interdependence in the human area most distant on the mouth and teeth. Here is a significant fact with regard the process of dental formation, which cannot be disputed. The completion of this dental formative process—the external cusp of the tooth which projects from the gums, is a region of the human frame which is given up to the external world as something mineral. Here the substance of the external layer (enamel) merges into the mineral world, nutritive processes are eliminated and a piece of inorganic substance is left. I indicated yesterday that the progressive development of dental structure is perhaps less important than the process of decomposition which accompanies the formation of the teeth throughout life. For on the one hand, it must be admitted that at this pole of the organisation at which the extremity of the tooth develops, the internal organisation cannot contribute very much to the formative process. But we must not forget that this internal organisation is closely involved in the destructive process, and therefore the more important and urgent question is how to retard the tendency in man to the destruction of this process. It would be a complete mistake to believe destruction and decay are purely the result of external injuries. My remarks yesterday on the function of fluorine in the formation of our teeth, refer mainly to the period of childhood, in which the formative process takes place from inside towards the surface and is in its preparatory stage. For it prepares itself deep in the interior of the whole organism before the second teeth appear. This formative process of fluorine reaches its culminating point in a stable equilibrium—brought about in the substance on the surface of the teeth; the fluorine becomes fixed here to the substance and is, as it were, at rest. But this rest is disturbed by the regressive development of the teeth, which approach gradual decay. This is a subtle process, starting from the tooth and connected with a formative process caused by the fluorine extending throughout the body, and yet continued throughout the whole life of man.

What I have just maintained sets the stage for the whole prophylaxis of the condition. Now I could say something of this sort: a considerable part of what is included in the educational methods of our Waldorf School, besides other things promoting health, is the prevention of early dental decay in those who attend the school for it is indeed remarkable that just in relation to the peripheral structures and processes very much depends upon the right education in childhood. It is regrettable that we are only able to work upon the child at a time—even at the Waldorf School—when it is somewhat too late for the prophylactic treatment necessary to dental formation. we ought to be able to start this work on younger children. However, as teeth do not appear all at once, but gradually, and the internal process is of longer duration, it is still possible to do something with children from six to seven years of age. Something—but certainly not enough. For it is advisable—as I have already emphasised—to ascertain the exact individual dental type. As soon as the first tooth makes its appearance of course it is possible to raise the objection that the dental formation is already prepared and that the crown of the tooth is perfected and only thrusts itself into the light. Yes, that is true, but it is possible to judge dental formative process from other indications than the teeth themselves. If a child of from four to six years old is clumsy and awkward with arms, hands, legs and feet—or cannot adapt himself to a skillful use of his arms and legs and especially of his hands and feet, we shall find that he is inclined to an abnormal process of dental formation. The behaviour of limbs and extremities reveals the same constitutional type as is shown in the dental formative process. Therefore a great influence is exercised on dental formation if we teach children as early as possible to run with dexterity, with intricate movements of the feet such as a kind of modified hopscotch in which the rear foot is brought with some force against the heel of the front foot, or similar exercises. If this is connected with an acquirement of skill in the fingers it will promote the tooth formation very considerably.

Go into our needlework classes and handicraft classes at the Waldorf School, and you will find the boys knit and crochet as well as the girls, and that they share these lessons together. Even the older boys are enthusiastic knitters. This is not the result of any fad or whim, but happens deliberately in order to make the fingers skillful and supple, in order to permeate the fingers with the soul. And to drive the soul into the fingers means to promote all the forces that go to build up sound teeth. It is no matter of indifference whether we let an indolent child sit about all day long, or make it move and run about; or whether we let a child be awkward and helpless with its hands, or train it to manual skill. Sins of omission in these matters bear fruit later in the early destruction of the teeth; of course sometimes in more pronounced forms, and sometimes in less, for there is great individual diversity, but they are bound to manifest themselves. In fact, the earlier we begin to train and discipline the child, on the lines indicated, the more we shall tend to slow down and counteract the process of dental decay. Any interference with dental processes is so difficult that we should carefully consider such measures even if they seem to be far-fetched.

Now this question is before me: How is fluorine absorbed into the organism; through the enamel, through the saliva, through the pulp or by the blood channels?

Fluorine in itself is one of the formative processes of man and it is somewhat beside the mark to speculate about the precise manner of its absorption. As a rule, we need only consider the normal nutritive process of everyday, by which substances containing various fluorine compounds are incorporated. Now follow this normal process of nutrition, which distributes fluorine to the periphery in the directions and to the regions where it is to be deposited. It is important to know that fluorine is much more widely distributed than is generally supposed. Much is contained in plants of the most different varieties—that is, comparatively speaking, for very little is required by man. But the process of fluorine formation is present in plants, even when fluorine itself is not chemically demonstrable; we shall refer to this presently in greater detail. Indeed fluorine is always present in water, even in our drinking water, so there is no difficulty in getting at it. It is only a matter of our organism being so constructed as to master and perform the highly complicated process of fluorine absorption. In the customary terminology of medicine, one may say that fluorine is carried to its destination through the blood channels.

Then I come to the inquiry whether the enamel of the teeth still receives nutrition after the teeth have been cut. No, this is not the case, as may appear from what has already been stated. But something else takes place, to which I would now call your attention. It might be expressed as follows: from the standpoint of spiritual research, around the growing teeth there is a remarkable activity of the human etheric body which is freed from the physical organisation or only loosely attached to it. This activity, which can be quite distinctly observed, forms as it were a constant etheric movement of organising around the jaws. Such a free organisation does not exist in the lower abdominal region; in that area it unites itself most closely with the physical organic activity, and thence arise the phenomena to which I have already referred. Thus, when there is a separation of the etheric body's activity from the physical organisation, e.g., during pregnancy, immediately at the opposite pole of the organism, pronounced changes in the teeth are brought about. Hæmorrhoids are another consequence of separation between the etheric and physical bodies, each “going their own way” But the fact that in this extremity of the human frame, the etheric body becomes independent implies that at the other pole the etheric body is drawn into the physical organisation, and destructive processes come into operation. For all things which increase organic activities—as for instance in the normal way in pregnancy, and in the abnormal way in diseases—all things which are stimulants to healthy functions have on the other hand concurrent effects on the dental structure where they work destructively. This is what should be especially noted.

What we do as an interplay between feet and hands is the macroscopic aspect of the fluorine workings. The constitution arising if the fingers and the legs become supple and skillful, is the working of fluorine. This is fluorine—not what the atomistic theorists imagine, but what is made manifest on the surface of the human organism, and is continued and extended inwards. This internal continuance of the process at the periphery is the essence of fluorine working. But if the external fluorine workings are disturbed, then the complexity of the human organism requires us to supplement education with therapeutics. For we not only perceive the result of defective or mistaken education in the condition of the teeth, but also in the child's being awkward and helpless. In such cases we must bring prophylactic influences upon the organism, and it is very interesting that a regulative action on the preservation of the teeth may be possible—of course if it has not been started too late—by means of an aqueous extract from the husks of horse chestnuts; that is to say Æsculin extract, in very high dilution and administered by the mouth.

This is again an interesting connection. The juice of the horse chestnut contains something of the same principle as that which builds up our teeth. There is always some substance out in the macrocosm with an internal organising effect. In Æsculin there is a force which ejects the “chemism” from the substance in which it is active. The chemism is so to speak rendered ineffective. If a beam of light is projected through a dilution of Æsculin, the chemical effect is obliterated. This obliteration is again perceptible if the aqueous dilution of Æsculin is taken internally; but note that it must be a very mild dilution and in a watery medium. Then it becomes evident that this overcoming of the chemism and trend towards pure mineralisation are essentially the same as the organic process which builds up the teeth. Only the obliteration in the external experiment is permeated still with the organising forces which are inherent in the human organism.

In a similar direction but by another method, we may use the common chlorophyll. The same force that is localised in the husk of the horse chestnut and some other plants, is also contained in chlorophyll, though in a somewhat different formation. But in order to use it we must try to extract as it were the chlorophyll in ether and use it not by internal dosage, but externally as a salve for the lower part of the body. If we rub the lower abdomen with etherised chlorophyll we shall produce the same effect on the preservation of the teeth, indirectly, through the whole organism, as is produced by the oral administration of Æsculin. These are things which need to be tested and which would certainly make a great impression on the general public if their statistical results could be made available. If the whole pulp of the tooth is “dead” an attempt should be made to adapt the whole organism to the absorption of fluorine. This is no longer a matter of mere dental treatment.

So you see how greatly dental treatment—in so far as dental treatment is still practicable—is related to all the growth-forces of the human organism. For what I have explained with reference to Æsculin and chlorophyll leads to the recognition of forces connected with very delicate processes of growth-processes tending towards mineralisation. The fact is that mankind has to pay for its higher evolution in the direction of the spirit, with a retrogressive development of the formative teeth process. And phylo-genetically the same is true; compared with the process of dental formation in the animals, our human process is one of retrogression. But it is not singular in that respect; this character of retrogression in the formation of the teeth is only one of many others in the organisation of the human head.

With this we have reached forms of thought which may be of great importance for our judgment of the whole process of dental formation. More insight will still be attained when we add some other facts which form a basis for it. I shall therefore include here a section which may not seem immediately to the point, for it will treat of questions of diet which are, however, closely related to our present theme.

Questions of diet are so important because they have social as well as medicinal implications. One may spend endless time in discussing whether the dietetic rules of Mazdaznan or other special schools and creeds, have any justification or significance. But in all the arguments pro and con, and the prescriptions which are given in these schools, we must admit that a person is treated as an unsocial being. But social problems combine with medical. The more we are compelled or advised to have some extra kind of food, something special to ourselves alone and not only in matters of food but in things from the external world—the more unsocial we become. The significance of the Last Supper lies in this: not that Christ gave something special to each of his disciples, but that He gave the same to all. The mere possibility of being together with others, as we eat or drink, has a great social value, and all that might tend to repress this healthy natural tendency, should—if I may say so—be treated with caution. If man be left alone in individual isolation, not only as regards conscious processes but also in all organic activities he develops all manner of appetites, and anti-appetites. Attention to these individual appetites and anti-appetites need not be given the importance usually bestowed. I am speaking now with reference to the whole constitution. If a man has become able to endure something naturally distasteful to him—that is to say, if an anti-appetite (in the wider sense, speaking of the whole organisation) has been conquered, then that person has gained more for the efficiency of his organisation than the constant avoidance of what is antipathetic. The conquest of something distasteful means the reconstruction of an organ which has been ruined or, in relation to the etheric, is a new organ; and this in no symbolic sense, but in fact. The organic formative force consists in nothing less than the conquest of antipathies. To gratify appetites beyond a certain limit, is not to serve and strengthen our organs, but to hypertrophise them and bring about their degeneration. To go too far in yielding to the antipathies of the organism, causes profound damage to the whole organisation. While on the other hand gradually to accustom a man to that which seems unsuitable to him always strengthens the constitution.

Almost everything we need to know in this division of our subject has been covered over by our modern natural science. For the external principle of the struggle for existence and natural selection is really purely external. Roux has even extended these concepts to the strife of the organs within man. But that too is really quite external. Such a principle can only become significant if what happens internally is actually observed and recorded. The strengthening, however, of a human organ, especially an organ in the phylogenetic line, always results from the overcoming of an antipathy. The formation, the actual organic structure, is due to the conquest of antipathies, whereas the continued growth of an organ already in being, is due to indulgence in sympathies.

But there is, of course, a definite limit. Sympathy and antipathy are not only on the tongue and in the eye; but the whole body liberates through and through with sympathies and antipathies; every organ has its special sympathies and antipathies. An organ can develop antipathy to the very forces that built and formed it at a certain stage. It owes its upbuilding to the very thing to which it becomes antipathetic, when it is completed. This leads us deeper into the phylogenetic realm; it leads us to take into world provokes all antipathetic reaction from inside; there is an internal resistance, a discharge so to speak of antipathy. But by this very reaction the progressive perfection of the organisation is brought about. In the realm of the organism he succeeds best in the struggle for existence who is best able to conquer inner antipathies and to replace them by organs. This conquest is part of the process of further development of the organs.

When we consider this aspect we are offered an important clue for the further estimate of actual dosage of remedies. You see in the process of organ formation itself a continuous oscillation between sympathy and antipathy. The genesis of the bodily constitution is dependent on the production of sympathy and antipathy, and their interplay. Moreover smaller dosages of substances used pharmaceutically have the same relation to highly potentised dosages, as sympathy has to antipathy, in the human organism. High potency has the opposite effect from low potency. That is bound up with the whole organising force. And in a certain sense it is also true that factors with a definite action on the organism in the early periods of life, turn their effect into the opposite in later periods; but that these effects in the organism can be shifted out of place. On this displacement is based on the one hand dementia precox as I have already stated, and, on the other, the formation of isolated “soul provinces” which at a later period of life wrongfully encroach on the organisation.

These matters will only be viewed aright if our science itself becomes somewhat spiritualised and we reach the stage of ceasing to try to cure so-called mental disorders by way of the spirit and the soul, but ask ourselves: where is the organic disorder or inadequacy, as this or that so-called mental or soul-sickness becomes apparent? And vice versa—however strange this may sound—in sickness of so-called physical kind there is even more need to examine the conditions of the soul, than in a case of sickness of the soul itself. In the latter class, the phenomena exhibited by the soul help little beyond the diagnosis. We must study these soul phenomena in order to guess where the organic defect can lie. The Ancients have provided for this in their terminology. It was not without purpose that these men of old time connected the picture of that mental disorder hypochondria with a name that sounds wholly materialistic: the bony or cartilaginous character of the abdomen. They would never have sought for the primary cause of the psychological unbalance—even when the hypochondria develops to actual insanity—anywhere except in some sickness of the lower bodily sphere. We must of course progress to the point of being able to regard all so-called material things as spiritual. We suffer severely today, simply because materialism is the continuation of medieval Catholic asceticism in the region of thought. This asceticism despised nature, and sought to attain to spiritual realms by an attitude of condemnation. Those who hold the modern world conception have extracted from the ascetic point of view just what they find convenient, and have no doubt that all the processes of the lower abdomen are crudely material and need not be seriously considered. But the truth is very different: the spirit works in all these things—and we need to know just how the spirit works there. If I bring the spirit which works within the organism together with the spirit acting in some external object or substance—the two spiritual forces collaborate. We must cease to despise nature, and learn again to regard to the whole external world as permeated with the spirit symptom and one of great value for the whole reform of medical thinking that just at the high tide of materialism there has arisen the custom of using hypnotic and other forms of suggestion in treating abnormal conditions in the individual? Things which seem at the opposite pole to materialism have come into favour in the materialistic age, when people had lost the possibility of learning the spiritual aspects of quicksilver, of antimony, of silver and of gold. That is the crux of the matter; the loss of the power to learn about the spirit of material things; and from this loss arises the attempt to treat spiritual ailments as spiritual only, just as in the psycho-analytic doctrines where it is attempted to direct the spirit as such. Sound views must again prevail on the subject of the spiritual attributes of matter.

It is one of the chief services of the nineteenth century to have held alive this acknowledgment of the spiritual permeation of external material things. One of the most important services; for external medicine of the allopathic school has unfortunately tended more and more to believe that one is only concerned with material, i.e., external-material effects and processes in the “extra-human” substances. Today on the one hand, in the diagnosis of so-called physical disorders, attention should be given to the state of the soul, and on the other, i.e., in abnormal soul states, the physical disturbances should be examined. Physical sicknesses should always prompt the inquiry: “what is the temperament of the person in whom they appear?” Suppose we find the sufferer is of hypochondriacal nature, that alone should be an indication for treatment of the lower organic sphere, with materially effective remedies, that is with low potencies. If we find that apart from the illness, the patient is of active mind or “sanguine,” it will be necessary to use high potencies from the outset of treatment. In short, the state of the soul is something that needs study and co-ordination when we consider bodily sickness. The total constitution of the soul is up to a certain point already obvious in the child; dementia præcox will not easily supervene if the child does not exhibit a phlegmatic disposition, that is to say the temperamental tendency appropriate to a much later stage in life, and then only to a limited degree. But still more important is it to recognise the disposition to inner activity or inner passivity. Only consider—if we work through so-called psychic treatment by means of suggestion we are placing the human being wholly in the sphere of influence of another. We repress his activity. But suppression of activity and of inner initiative gives rise to something even in outer life, which is important for the whole course of life. It appears externally in childhood and reacts on the whole dental condition, in later years as well. We shall deal further with this subject tomorrow.

Now I can come to the conclusion that for myself as an individual it is necessary to avoid certain foodstuffs, and to partake of others; I can choose a certain diet for myself—and it is important to bear this in mind, following what has already been said regarding the choice of food. And that diet can do me much good. But there is a very appreciable difference according to whether I adopt this diet as a result of individual experiment or simply accept what the doctor prescribes for me. Please do not take offense at this rather blunt statement. For the materialistic approach, it may well seem a matter of indifference, and equally beneficial, whether the diet that suits me has been instinctively chosen by myself, has been worked out experimentally by myself, perhaps at the physician's suggestion, but with individual initiative, or else has been prescribed for me by a physician. The ultimate result is seen in the fact that the diet prescribed by the physician will be of benefit in the beginning, but will have the disadvantage of leading in old age to mental degeneration more easily than would be the case with an active collaboration in questions of diet; this helps to keep the mind active and mobile into old age—of course, other factors play their part. The interplay of activity and passivity is much impaired in all “treatments by suggestion,” for such treatments imply not only giving up judgment, and doing what another prescribes, but also even the direction of the will itself. The guidances and impact on the will should only be employed in cases where we can assure ourselves that the impairment is not an injury to the person in question, because of other factors; and in fact that it is doing them a greater service to treat them for a while on “suggestive” lines. In general, however, spiritual science finds it necessary to emphasise the healing elements and effects in the material substances, in the atmospheric conditions, and in the movements and functions of the human organism itself; in short in all that cannot be termed spiritual influence proper, but must proceed actively from the consciousness or subconsciousness with the initiative of the patient himself. All these considerations are so crucial because they are the most of all sinned against in the age of materialism, and because the prevalent attitude has been so infectious as to have extended to pedagogy, where we may already experience the terrible abuse of all manner of hypnotic and suggestive tendencies. Their introduction into pedagogy is of appalling augury; and perhaps one will only be able to see clearly in this direction by answering the question: What is the effect of such exercises on the human organism as stimulate it to an awakening, instead of lulling into sleep? Just as when man falls asleep, movements are carried out in his imagination which are not followed by the will, just as the sleeper sinks into repose so far as the external world is concerned, while his consciousness is in motion, so the exact opposite occurs in the case of Eurhythmy. In Eurhythmy the reverse of the sleep condition is brought about; the consciousness awakens more vividly, as compared to its usual state. The hypertrophies of imagination typical of the dream, are dispersed and in their stead a sound and vigorous current of volition is sent through the limbs. The organised will is driven into the limbs. Study the different effects of Eurhythmic vowel forming on the lower and the upper human being respectively, and then again observe the effect of Eurhythmic formation of consonants on the upper and lower man, and you will realise that we may also seek a valuable therapeutic element in Eurhythmy itself.

Dear friends! Our assignment for this educational conference is to answer the question: What is the role of education and teaching to be for the future in terms of both the individual and society? Anyone who looks with an unbiased eye at modern civilization and its various institutions can hardly question the importance of this theme today (by “today” I mean the current decade in history). This theme touches on questions deep in the souls and hearts of a great many people.

Knowledge of the Whole Human Being

In our modern civilization, we have seen people develop a peculiar attitude toward their own being. For over a century, our civilization has witnEssentialEd the ambitious development of natural science and its consequences for humanity; indeed, all of contemporary life has been affected by the knowledge and ideas engendered by natural science. From the perspective of natural science, however, wherever we look and no matter how exactly we observe the mineral kingdom and develop ideas of nature’s other realms, one thing is clear: although there was close and intimate self-knowledge of human beings in earlier cultural epochs, this is no longer the situation today. Whatever achievements natural science may have brought to humankind, it cannot be applied directly to the human being.

We can ask: What are the laws that govern the development of the world beyond humankind? However, none of the answers come close to the essence of what lives within the limits of the human skin. Answers are so inadequate that people today haven’t a clue about the ways that external natural processes are actually transformed within the human being through breathing, blood circulation, nutrition, and so on.

Consequently, we have come to the point where, even in terms of the soul, we do not look at the soul itself, but study its external manifestations in the human body. Today people experiment on human beings. However, I don’t intend to criticize psychological or pedagogical experimentation. We must acknowledge what can be accomplished in this way, but mostly this approach is a symptom of our cultural milieu, since in fact the results of such experiments tell us little about the human being.

In earlier times, people had a sense of inner empathy with the spirit and soul of other human beings, which gave them an intuitive impression of the soul’s inner experiences; it made sense that what one knew about the inner spirit and soul life would explain external physical manifestations. Now, we do just the opposite. People experiment with external aspects and processes very effectively, since all contemporary natural science is effective. The only thing that has been demonstrated, however, is that, given our modern views of life, we take seriously only what is sense-perceptible and what the intellect can comprehend with the help of the senses. Consequently, we have come to a point where we no longer have the capacity to really observe the inner human being; we are often content to observe its outer shell. We are further removed from the human being. Indeed, the very methods that have so eagerly illuminated life in the outer world—the working of nature—have robbed us of the most basic access between souls.

Our wonderfully productive civilization has brought us very close to certain natural phenomena, but it has also driven us away from the human being. It should be obvious that the aspect of our culture most harmed by this situation is education—everything related to human development and teaching children. Once we can understand those we are to shape, we will be able to educate and teach, just as painters must understand the nature and quality of colors before they can paint, and sculptors must first understand their materials before they can create, and so on. If this is true of the arts that deal with physical materials, isn’t it all the more true of an art that works with the noblest of all materials, the material that only the human being can work with—human life, the human being and human development?

These issues remind us that all education and all teaching must spring from the fountain of real knowledge of the human being. In the Waldorf schools, we are attempting to create such an art of education, solidly based on true understanding of the human being, and this educational conference is about the educational methods of Waldorf education.

Knowledge of the human being! I can hear people saying how far we have come in our knowledge of the human being in our time! I must reply that, although we have made extraordinary advances in our knowledge of the human physical body, the human being is really body, soul, and spirit. The worldview at the foundation of Waldorf education—that is, anthroposophic spiritual science—consists equally of knowledge of the human body, the human soul, and the human spirit, being careful to avoid any imbalance.

In the following lectures, I will have much more to say about such knowledge of the human being. But first, let me point out that true knowledge of the human being does not come from merely looking at an isolated individual with three aspects. Knowledge of the human being primarily tries to keep sight of what happens among human beings during earthly life.

When one human being encounters another, a fully conscious knowledge of each other’s being does not develop between them—such a thing would be absurd. We couldn’t begin to interact socially if we were to view one another with analytical questions in mind. But we all carry an unconscious knowledge of the other within ourselves as unconscious perceptions, feelings, and, most importantly, impulses that lead to action. We will see that knowledge of the human being has suffered a great deal in the modern world, and this has given rise to many social evils. In a sense, however, knowledge of human beings has only withdrawn to deeper levels of the unconscious than ever before. Nevertheless, it is still available to us, since, if it weren’t, we would pass each other with no means of understanding one another.

It is certainly true that when one person meets another—whether or not we are aware of it—sympathies and antipathies arise, and impressions are formed. They tell us whether the other person can be allowed to get close, or if we would prefer to stay clear of that other person. Other impressions arise as well. Immediately, we may say, “This is an intelligent person,” or “that person is not very gifted.” I could mention hundreds and hundreds of impressions that spring from the depths of the soul. During most of our life, such impressions are pushed back down again, where they become a part of our soul’s attitude toward the other person; we guide our behavior toward that person in terms of these first impressions. Then, too, what we call empathy—which is essentially one of the most significant impulses of human morality—also belongs to such unconscious knowledge of the human being.

The Relationship between Teacher and Child

In our adult interactions, we use our knowledge of the human being so unconsciously that we are unaware of it, but we nevertheless act according to it. In our capacity as teachers, however, the relationship between our human soul as teacher and the child’s human soul must be much more conscious so that we have a formative effect on the child. But we also must become aware of our own teacher’s soul so that we experience what is necessary to establish the right mood, the right teaching artistry, and the right empathy with the child’s soul. All of these things are necessary to adequately performing our educational and teaching task. We are immediately reminded that the most important aspect in education and teaching is what occurs between the teacher’s soul and the child’s soul.

Let’s start with this knowledge of the human being; it is knowledge with “soft edges.” It lacks sharp contours to the extent that it is not pointed directly at any one person. Rather, over the course of the educational relationship it glides, as it were, weaving here and there between what happens in the teacher’s soul and in the child’s soul. In certain ways, it is difficult to be very sure of what is happening, since it is all very subtle. When we teach, something is present that flows like a stream, constantly changing. It is necessary to develop a vision that allows us to seize anything that is developing between human beings in this intimate way.

We might consider a few specific examples as an introduction to the way these currents form. In doing this, we must consider one thing: when we deal with a human being “in-process,” a growing child, knowledge of the human being is too often applied in an exact way. We take the child at a specific point in life and get to work, asking about the child’s developmental forces, how they operate at that particular age, and so on, and we ask how we can properly meet these developmental forces at this particular time. But knowledge of the human being as intended here is not concerned only with these moments of experience, but with the person’s whole earthly life. It is not really as easy as observing a precise time span in a human life. But educators and teachers must be able to look at the whole human life; whatever we do in the eighth or ninth year will have effects upon the forty- or fifty-year-old adult, as we will see a little later.

As a teacher, anything I do to a child during the years of education will sink deeply into the physical, psychological, and spiritual nature of that individual. Whatever I do that plants a seed at the beginning of life will in some way go on living and working for decades beneath the surface, reappearing in remarkable ways many years later, perhaps not until the very end of life. It is possible to affect childhood in the right way if we consider not just childhood but all of human life as seen from the perspective of a real knowledge of the human being.

This is the knowledge I have in mind as I give you a few examples about the intimate ways the teacher’s soul can affect the child’s soul. I will present only a few indications for today—we will go into greater detail later. We can understand how to prepare the intellect for activities of the will only if we can answer this question: What happens between the teacher and the child, simply because the teacher and the child are present together, each with a unique nature and temperament—a particular character, level of development, constitution of body and soul? Before we even begin to teach and educate, the teacher and the child are both present. There is already an interaction. The teacher’s relationship to the child presents the first important question.

Rather than wandering off in abstractions, let’s just look at specifics; we shall examine one particular characteristic in human nature—the temperament. Let’s not view a child’s temperament, which of course offers us no choice—we must educate each human being regardless of temperament (we will speak later of the children’s temperaments); but let’s begin rather by looking at the teacher’s temperament. The teacher approaches the child with a very specific temperament—choleric, sanguine, melancholic, or phlegmatic. The question is: As educators, what can we do to control our own temperaments; how can we perhaps educate ourselves in relation to our own temperament? To answer this question we must first look directly at the fundamental question: How does a teacher’s temperament affect the child, just by being what it is?

The Choleric Temperament

We will begin with the choleric temperament. The teacher’s choleric temperament may be exprEssentialEd when the teacher lets loose and vents anger. We will see later how teachers can control themselves. Let’s assume for starters that the teacher has a temper, which is exprEssentialEd in powerful, vehement expressions. It may drive the teacher to act or handle the child in ways that arise from a choleric temperament, which is regretted later on. The teacher may do things in the presence of the child that cause fright (we will see the fragile nature of a child’s soul). The child’s fright may not last for long, but nevertheless take root deep in the child’s physical organism. A choleric adult may have such an effect that the child always approaches the teacher in fear, whereas another child may just feel pressured. In other words, there is a very specific way the choleric temperament works on a child, having subtle, intimate effects.

Let’s consider the preschool child. At that stage a child is a single entity; the child’s three members—body, soul, and spirit—separate later on. Between birth and the change of teeth (which is a very important point in the child’s development) there is a period of time when the child is, for all practical purposes, entirely a sensory organ; this is not generally emphasized enough.

Let’s imagine a sensory organ—the eye, for example. This eye is organized in very integral ways that unite with the impressions made by colors. Without a person having any say in the matter, the slightest external impression is immediately transformed into activity, which is only then experienced in the soul. The entire life of the child before the change of teeth is ruled in this way by sensory perceptions that impress the soul. All inner experiences are a kind of soul experience.

Children absorb impressions from all the people around them with the same intensity that sensory organs receive impressions from the environment. The way we move around children—whether slowly, displaying a relaxed soul and spirit or with stormily, showing a heavy soul and spirit—is absorbed by them; they are completely sensory. We might say that an adult tastes with the mouth, or with the palate or tongue. Children, however, experience taste in the very depths of their organism; it’s as though the sense of taste were spread throughout the whole body. This is also true of the other senses. The effects of light relate internally to a child’s respiratory system and circulation. What is to an adult a separate visual perception, the child experiences in the whole body; and without any forethought, a child’s will impulses take the shape of reflexes. A child’s whole body responds reflexively to every impression in the environment.

This means that the spirit, soul, and body of a small child are still undifferentiated, still interwoven as a unified whole. The soul and spirit work in the body and directly influence the circulatory and digestive processes. It is remarkable how close a child’s soul and metabolism are to each other and how closely they work together. Only later, at the change of teeth, does the soul element become differentiated from the metabolism. Every stimulation of a child’s soul is transcribed in the blood circulation, breathing, and digestion. This means that a child’s environment affects a child’s whole body.

And so, when a choleric teacher gets near a child and lets loose with fits of temper, anything done under this influence—if the teacher has not learned to deal with this—enters the child’s soul and takes root in the body. The remarkable thing is that it sinks into the foundations of the child’s being, and anything implanted in the growing human body reappears later. Just as a seed is planted in the autumn and reappears in the spring as a plant, so whatever is planted as a seed in a child of eight or nine comes out again in the adult of forty-five or fifty. And we can see the effects of an uncontrolled choleric teacher’s temperament in the form of metabolic illnesses in the adult, or even in the very old.

If we could only verify the reason this or that person suffers from arthritis, or why another has all kinds of metabolic disorders, poor digestion, or gout, there would be only one answer: many of these things can be attributed to the violent temperament of a teacher who dealt with the child at an early age.

If we achieve pedagogical understanding by looking at the whole human being and not just at the child—which is much more comfortable—it becomes clear that education and teaching play a central role in the course of human life. We see how often happiness or unhappiness in the spirit, soul, or physical life is related to a person’s education and schooling. Just consider this: doctors are asked by older people to correct the mistakes of their educators, when in fact the problems have sunk so deeply into the person that no more can be done. The impressions on the child’s soul have been transformed into physical effects, and the psychological interacts with the physical; knowing all this, we begin to pay attention in the right way, and we acquire a proper appreciation for teaching methods and what is required for a viable education according to the reality of human nature.

The Phlegmatic Temperament

Now, let us consider the phlegmatic teacher. We will assume again that this teacher makes no attempt at self-knowledge or self-education regarding temperament. It can be said of the phlegmatic that whatever comes to the child from such a person is not strong enough to meet the inner activity of the child’s soul. The inner impulses want to come out, to flow out, and the child wants to be active, but the teacher is phlegmatic and just lets things be. This teacher is unable to engage what flows out of the child, failing to encounter it with enough impressions and influences. It’s as if one were trying to breathe in a rarefied atmosphere, to use a physical analogy. The child’s soul “asphyxiates” when the teacher is phlegmatic. When we see such a child in later life, we can understand why some people are nervous or suffer from neurasthenia, and so on. By going back to their childhood, we find that it is related to the uncontrolled phlegmatic temperament of an educator who failed to do important things with the child.

We might even be able to explain widespread cultural pathologies in this way. Why is it that nervous diseases such as depression are so widespread today? You might be thinking I’m trying to convince you that, when the current generation of neurasthenic adults was being educated, the whole teaching profession was phlegmatic! I will reply that it did consist of phlegmatics—not in the usual sense of the word, but in a much deeper sense. We are speaking of the historical period of the nineteenth century when materialism rose. The materialistic worldview turns away from the human being, and develops a monstrous indifference in the teacher toward the most intimate movements of the souls of those being educated.

If, in an unbiased way, we can observe the cultural manifestations of the modern era, we find that a person may be a phlegmatic in that sense, even though that same person might angrily react to a child who spilled ink yelling: “You should not do that! You should not throw ink because you are angry; I’ll throw it back at you, you rascal!” Such outbursts of choleric temper were not the exception during the time I just described, nor am I suggesting that there was any shortage of sanguine or melancholic teachers. But in their actual teaching, they were still phlegmatics and acted phlegmatic. The materialistic worldview was uninterested in meeting the human being, and certainly not the growing human being. Phlegma became an aspect of all education in the materialistic era. And it has a lot to do with the appearance of nervous disease, or nervous disorganization, in our culture. We will look at this in detail later. Nevertheless, we see the effect of phlegmatic teachers whose very presence next to children triggers nervous disorders.

The Melancholic Temperament

If a teacher succumbs to a melancholic temperament and becomes too self-absorbed, the thread of the child’s spirit and soul nature is constantly in danger of breaking, dampening the feeling life. In this way, the melancholic teacher’s influence causes the child to suppress soul impulses. Instead of expressing them, the child retreats within.

If a teacher gives in to a melancholic temperament while with children, it can lead in later life to breathing and circulatory problems. Teachers should not educate with only childhood in mind. And doctors should look beyond the specific onset of disease to a particular age, with a capacity to observe human life as one connected whole. In this way, people can see that many cases of heart trouble between forty and forty-five began with the whole mood generated by the uncontrolled melancholic temperament of a teacher.

Obviously, when we observe the spiritual and psychic imponderables that play between the teacher’s soul and that of the child, we must ask: How should teachers and education professionals educate themselves about the various temperaments? We can understand that it is not enough for the teacher to say, “I was born with my temperament; I can’t help myself.” First of all, this is untrue, and even if it were true, the human race would have died out long ago due to wrong education.

The Sanguine Temperament

The teacher who gives full vent to a sanguine temperament is susceptible to all kinds of impressions. When a student makes a mess, the teacher looks the other way instead of getting angry. A student may whisper to a neighbor, and the teacher again looks the other way. This is typical of the sanguine temperament; impressions come quickly, but do not penetrate deeply. Such a teacher may call on a little girl to ask a brief question; but the teacher is not interested in her for long and almost immediately sends her back to her seat. This teacher is completely sanguine.

Again, if we look at the whole human life, we can trace many cases of insufficient vitality and zest for life—which may even be pathological—to the effects of a teacher’s undisciplined sanguine temperament. Without self-knowledge, a teacher’s sanguine temperament suppresses vitality, dampens the zest for life, and weakens the will that wells up from the child’s essential being.

These relationships, as revealed by a spiritual science, help us understand the human being. With this in mind, we can realize how comprehensive the real art of education is; we can see the way teaching must view the nature of the human being and the limits of looking only at what is immediately present and obvious. This is not enough, and we are faced with the essential demand of our current civilization—the civilization that has already brought enough discord to human existence.

But, given the various simple and superficial observations of research, statistics, and other ingenious methods—which form the basis of almost all education and didacticism—how can we educate in a way that equally considers the whole human experience and the eternal nature of the human being that shines through human experience? Something much deeper appears in relation to these matters. As an introduction, I have tried to show you what is at play between teacher and student just because they are there—even before anything is done consciously, but merely because the two are there. This is especially revealed in the different temperaments.

It will be argued that there comes a point where we must begin to educate. Yes, and immediately we encounter the opinion that anyone can teach someone else whatever one has already learned. If I have learned something, I am, so to speak, qualified to teach it to someone else. People frequently fail to notice that there is an inner attitude of temperament, character, and so on, behind everything a teacher brings to teaching, regardless of self-education, formal training, or assimilated knowledge. Here, too, a real knowledge of the human being leads more deeply into human nature itself.

Let’s inquire, then, about teaching an unschooled child something we have learned. Is it enough to present it to the child just as we learned it? It certainly is not. Now I will speak of an observed phenomenon, the results of a real observation of the whole life of a human being in body, soul, and spirit. It concerns the first period of life, from birth until the change of teeth.

The Teacher and the Three Stages of Childhood

When we understand the interrelationship between teacher and child in terms of the temperaments, we see that, during this first stage of life, what we have learned is relatively unimportant to teaching and educating a child. The most important considerations have to do with the kind of person one is, what impressions the child receives, and whether or not one is worthy of imitation.

As far as this life period is concerned, if a civilization never spoke of education and in its elementary, primitive way simply educated, it would have a much healthier outlook than ours. This was true of the ancient Eastern regions, which had no education in our sense of the word. There the adult’s body, soul, and spirit was allowed to affect the child so that the child could take this adult as a guide, moving a muscle when the teacher moved a muscle and blinking when the teacher blinked. The teacher was trained to do this in a way that enabled the child to imitate. Such a teacher was not as the Western “pedagogue,” but the Eastern data. A certain instinctive quality was behind this. Even today, it is obvious that what I have learned is totally irrelevant in terms of my ability to effectively teach a child before the change of teeth. After the change of teeth, the teacher’s knowledge begins to have some significance; but this is again lost, if I merely impart what I learned as it lives in me. It must all be transformed artistically and made into images, as we shall see later. I must awaken invisible forces between the child and myself.

In the second life period, between the change of teeth and puberty, it is much more important that I transform my knowledge into visual imagery and living forms, unfolding it and allowing it to flow into the child. What a person has learned is important only for children after puberty until the early twenties.

For the small child before the change of teeth, the most important thing in education is the teacher’s own being. The most important element for teaching the child between the change of teeth and puberty is the teacher who can enter living artistry. Only after the age of fourteen or fifteen can the child really claim what the teacher has learned. This continues until after the early twenties, when the child is fully grown (even though it’s true that we call the teenager a young lady or young gentleman). At twenty years, the young person can meet another human being on equal terms, even when the other is older.

Things like this enable us to look deep into the human nature—and we shall see how this is deepened in the presence of true human wisdom. We come to realize what has often been thought—that we do not become acquainted with the teacher by examining what the person knows after going through college. That would show us only a capacity for lecturing on some subject, perhaps something suitable for students between fourteen and twenty. As far as earlier stages are concerned, what the teacher does in this sense has no relevance whatever. The qualities necessary for these early periods must be assEssentialEd on a very different basis.

Thus, we see that a fundamental issue in teaching and education is the question of who the teacher is. What must really live in the children, what must vibrate and well up into their very hearts, wills, and eventually into their intellect, lives initially in the teachers. It arises simply through who they are, through their unique nature, character, and soul attitude, and through what they bring the children out of their own self-development. So we can see how a true knowledge of the human being, cultivated into embracing everything, can be the single foundation for a true art of teaching and fulfill the living needs of education.

In the lectures that follow, I want to go into these two things more fully—the pedagogy, and the living needs of education.

When we set out today to speak about Anthroposophy and the Threefold Movement with its various consequences—which indeed arise out of Anthroposophy, and must really be thought of as arising out of it,—then we must first of all hold before our souls that it is difficult to make oneself understood. And, without this feeling—that it is difficult to make oneself understood—we shall hardly be able to succeed as lecturers for anthroposophical Spiritual Science and all that is connected with it, in a way satisfying to ourselves. For if there is to be speaking about Anthroposophy which is appropriate, then this speaking must be entirely different from what one is accustomed to in accordance with the traditions of speaking. One has often fallen into the habit of speaking also about anthroposophical matters in the way one has become used to speaking in the age of materialism; but one is more apt thereby to obstruct the understanding for Anthroposophy, rather than to open up an approach to it.

We shall first of all have to make quite clear to ourselves what the content of the matter is that comes towards us in Anthroposophy and its consequences. And in these lectures I shall deal as I said yesterday, with the practice of lecturing, but only for anthroposophical and related matters, so that what I have to say applies only to these.

We must now make clear to ourselves that primarily it is the feeling for the central issue of the threefold order that must at first be stirred in our present humanity. It must after all be assumed that an audience of today does not begin to know what to do with the concept of the threefold order. Our speaking must slowly lead to the imparting first of a feeling for this threefold order in the audience.

During the time in which materialism has held sway, one has become accustomed to give expression to the things of the outer world through description. In this one had a kind of guidance in the outer world itself. Moreover, objects in the outer world are, I would say, too fixed for one to believe that, in the end, it makes much difference how one speaks about the things of the outer world; one need only give people some guidance on the way for perceiving this outer world. Then, in the end it comes to this: if, let us say, one delivers somewhere a popular lecture with experiments, and thereby demonstrates to people how this or that substance reacts in a retort, then they see how the substance reacts in the retort. And whether one then lectures this way or that way—a bit better, a bit less well, a hit more relevantly, a hit less relevantly—in the end makes no difference. And gradually it has tended to come to the point that such lectures and such talks are attended in order to see the experimenting, and what is spoken is just taken along as a kind of more or less agreeable or disagreeable side noise. One must express these things somewhat radically, just in order to show the exact direction in which civilization is moving in regard to these things.

When it is a matter of what to stimulate in people for doing, for willing, one is of the opinion that one must just “set up ideals”. People would have to accustom themselves to “apprehend ideals”, and thus one gradually glides more and more over into the utopian, when it is a matter of such things as the threefold order of the social organism.

So it has also happened in many an instance that many people who lecture about the threefold idea today absolutely call forth the opinion, through the manner in which they speak, that it is some utopia or other that should be striven for. And, since one is always of the opinion that what should be striven for in most cases cannot be expected to come in less than fifty or a hundred years—or many extend the time even further—so one also allows oneself, quite unconsciously, to approach speaking about things as if they would first ripen in fifty or a hundred years. One glides away from the reality very soon, and then talks about it thus: How will a small shop be set up in the threefold social organism? What will be the relation of the single person to the sewing machine in the threefold social organism?—and so on. Such questions are really put in abundance to any endeavor such as the threefolding of the social organism. As regards such an endeavor, which with all of its roots comes out of reality, one should not at all speak in this utopian fashion. For one should always evoke at least this feeling: the threefold order of the social organism is nothing which can be "made" in the sense that state constitutions can be made in a parliament—of the kind for example, that the Weimar National Assembly was. These are made! But one cannot speak in the same sense of making the threefold social organism.

Just as little can one speak of "organizing" in order to produce the threefold order. That which is an organism, this one does not organize; this grows. It is just in the nature of an organism that one does not have to organize it, that it organizes itself. That which can be organized is no organism. We must approach things from the start with these feelings, otherwise we shall not have the possibility of finding the appropriate expression.

The threefold order is something which indeed simply follows from the natural living together of people. One can falsify this natural living together of people—as has been the case, for example, in recent history—by extending the characteristic features of one member, the states-rights member, to both others. Then these two other members will simply become corrupted because they cannot prosper, just as someone cannot get on well in an unsuitable garment, that is too heavy, or the like.

It is in the natural relation of people that the threefold order of the social organism lives, that the independent spiritual life lives, that the rights or states life, regulated by the people's majority, lives, that the economic life, shaped solely out of itself, also lives. One can put strait jackets on the spiritual life, on the economic life, although one does not need them; but then its own life asserts itself continually nevertheless, and what we then experience outwardly is just this self-assertion. It is hence necessary to show that the threefolding of the social organism is implicit in the very nature of both the human being and the social life.

We see that the spiritual life in Europe was entirely independent and free until the 13th or 14th centuries, when, what was the free, independent spiritual life was first pushed into the universities. In this time you find the founding of the universities, and the universities then in turn slip by and by into the life of state. So that one can say: From about the 13th to the 16th or 17th century, the universities slip into the states-life, and with the universities, also the remaining educational institutions, without people really noticing it. These other institutions simply followed. This we have on the one hand.

On the other hand, until about the same period, we have free economic rule that found its true, middle-European expression in the free economic village communities. As the free spiritual life slipped into the universities, which are localized at first, and which later find shelter in the state, so does that which is the economic organization first receive a certain administration in the “rights” sense, when the cities emerge more and more. Then the cities, in the first place, organize this economic life, while earlier, when the village communities were setting the pace, it had grown freely. And then we see how increasingly, that which was centralized in the cities seeks protection in the larger territories of the states. Thus we see how the tendency of modern times ends in letting the spiritual life on the one hand, the economic life on the other, seek the protection of states which increasingly take on the character of domains constituted according to Roman law. This was actually the development in modern times.

We have reached that point in historical development where things can go no further like this, where a sense and a feeling for free spiritual life must once again be developed. When in a strait jacket, the spirit simply does not advance; because it only apparently advances, but in truth still remains behind—can never celebrate real births, but at most renaissances. It is just the same with the economic life.

Today we simply stand in the age in which we must absolutely reverse the movement which has developed in the civilized world of Europe with its American annex, the age in which the opposite direction must set in. For what has gone on developing for a time must reach a point at which something new must set in. Otherwise one runs into the danger of doing as one would when, with a growing plant, one were to say it should not be allowed to come to fruition, it should grow further, it should keep blooming on and on.—Then it would grow thus: bring forth a flower; then no seed, but again a flower, again a flower, and so on. Therefore it is absolutely necessary to familiarize oneself inwardly with these things, and to develop a feeling for the historical turning point at which we stand today.

But, just as in an organism every detail is necessarily formed as it is, so is everything in the world in which we live and which we help to shape, to be formed as it must be in its place in the sense of the whole. You cannot imagine, if you think realistically, that your ear lobe could be formed the very least bit differently from what it is, in conformity with your whole organism. Were your ear lobe only the least bit differently formed, then you would also have to have quite a different nose, different fingertips, and so forth. And just as the ear lobe is formed in the sense of the whole human being, so must also the lecture in which something flows be given—in the sense of the whole subject—that lecturing which is truly taking on new forms.

Such a lecture cannot be delivered in the manner which one could perhaps learn from the sermon-lecture. For the sermon-lecture as we still have it today, rests on the tradition which really goes back to the old Orient,—on a special attitude which the whole human being in the old Orient had toward speech. This characteristic was continued, so that it lived in a certain free way in Greece, lived in Rome, and shows its last spark most clearly in the particular relationship which the Frenchman has to his language. Not that I want to imply that every Frenchman preaches when he speaks; but a similar relationship, such as had to develop out of the oriental relationship to language still continues to live on in a definite way in the French handling of speech, only entirely in a declining movement.

This element which we can observe here in regard to language came to expression when one still learned speaking from the professors, as one could later, but now in the declining phase—professors who really continued to live on as mummies of ancient times and bore the title, “professor of elocution”. In former times, at almost every university, in every school, also in seminaries and so on there was such a professor of elocution, of rhetoric. The renowned Curtius¹ of Berlin actually still bore the title “professor of elocution” officially. But the whole affair became too dull for him, and he did not lecture on elocution, but only demonstrated himself as a professor of elocution through being sent out by the faculty council on ceremonial occasions, since that was always the task of the professor of elocution. Nevertheless, in this Curtius made it his business to discharge his duties at such ceremonial occasions by paying as little regard as possible to the ancient rules of eloquence. For the rest, it was too dull for him to be a professor of elocution in times in which professors of elocution did not fit in any more, and he lectured on art history, on the history of Greek art. But in the university catalog he was listed as “professor of elocution”. This refers us back to an element that was present everywhere in speech in olden times.

Now, when we consider what is quite especially characteristic in the training of speech for the middle European languages, for German, for example, then indeed everything denoted in the original sense by the word “elocution” has not the least meaning. For something flowed into these languages that is entirely different from that which was peculiar to speaking in the times when elocution had to be taken seriously. In the Greek and Latin languages there is elocution. In the German language elocution is something quite impossible, when one looks inwardly at the essential.

Today, however, we are living definitely in a time of transition. That which was the speech element of the German language cannot continue to be used. Every attempt must be made to come out of this speech element and to come into a different speech element. This also is the task, in a certain sense, to be solved by him who would speak productively about Anthroposophy or the threefold idea. For only when a fairly large number of people are able to speak in this way, will Anthroposophy and the threefold idea be rightly understood in public, even in single lectures. Meanwhile, there are not a few who develop only a pseudo-understanding and pseudo-avowal for these.

If we look back on the special element in regard to speaking which was present in the times out of which the handling of elocution was preserved, we must say: then it was as if language grew out of the human being in quite a naive way, as his fingers grow, as his second teeth grow. From the imitation process speaking resulted, and language with its whole organization. And only after one had language did one come to the use of thinking.

And now it transpired that the human being when speaking to others about any problem had to see that the inner experience, the thought experience, to a certain extent clicked [einschnappte] into the language. The sentence structure was there. It was in a certain way elastic and flexible. And, more inward than the language was the thought element. One experienced the thought element as something more inward than the language, and let it click into the language, so that it fitted into it just as one fits the idea of a statue or the like into marble. It was entirely an artistic treatment of the language. Even the way in which one was meant to speak in prose had something similar to the way in which one was to express oneself in poetry. Rhetoric and elocution had rules which were not at all unlike the rules of poetic expression. (So as not to be misunderstood, I should like to insert here that the development of language does not exclude poetry. What I now say, I say for older arts of expression, and I beg you not to interpret it as if I wanted to assert that there can be no more poetry at all today. We need but treat the language differently in poetry. But that does not belong here; I wanted to insert this only in parenthesis, that I might not be misunderstood.)

And when we now ask: How was one then supposed to speak in the time in which the thought and feeling content clicked into the language? One was supposed to speak beautifully! That was the first task: to speak beautifully. Hence, one can really only learn to speak beautifully today when one immerses oneself in the old way of speaking. There was beautiful speaking. And speaking beautifully is definitely a gift which comes to man from the Orient. It might be said: There was speaking beautifully to the point that one really regarded singing, the singing of language, as the ideal of speaking. Preaching is only a form of beautiful speaking stripped of much of the beautiful speaking. For, wholely beautiful speaking is cultic speaking. When cultic speaking pours itself into a sermon, then much is lost. But still, the sermon is a daughter of the beautiful speaking found in the cult.

The second form which has come into evidence, especially in German and in similar languages, is that in which it is no longer possible to distinguish properly between the word and the grasping of the thought conveyed—the word and the thought experience; the word has become abstract, so that it exempts itself, like a kind of thought. It is the element where the understanding for language itself is stripped off. It can no longer have something click into it, because one feels at the very outset that what is to be clicked in and the word vehicle into which something is to click are one.

For who today is clear, for example in German, when he writes down “Begriff” [concept], that this is the noun form of begreifen [to grasp; to comprehend] be-greifen (greifen with a prefix) is thus das Greifen an etwas ausfuehren [the carrying out of the grasping of something]—that “Begriff” is thus nothing other than the noun form for objective perceiving? The concept “Begriff” was formed at a time when there was still a living perception of the ether body, which grasps things. Therefore one could then truly form the concept of Begriff, because grasping with the physical body is merely an image of grasping with the ether body.

But, in order to hear Begreifen in the word Begriff it is necessary to feel speech as an organism of one's own. In the element of speaking which I am now giving an account of, language and concept always swim through one another. There is not at all that sharp separation which was once present in the Orient, where the language was an organism, was more external, and that which declared itself lived inwardly. What lived inwardly had to click into the linguistic form in speaking; that is, click in so that what lives inwardly is the content, and that into which it clicked was the outer form. And this clicking-in had to happen in the sense of the beautiful, so that one was thus a true speech artist when one wanted to speak.

This is no longer the case when, for example, one has no feeling any more for differentiating between Gehen [to go] and Laufen [to run] in relation to language as such. Gehen: two e's—one walks thither without straining oneself thereby; e is always the feeling expression for the slight participation one has in one's own activity. If there is an au in the word, this participation is enhanced. From running (Laufen) comes panting (Schnaufen) which has the same vowel sound in it. With this one's insides come into tumult. There must be a sound there that intimates this modification of the inner being. But all this is indeed no longer there today; language has become abstract. It is like our onward-flowing thoughts themselves—for the whole middle region, and especially also for the western region of civilization.

It is possible to behold a picture, an imagination in every single word; and one can live in this picture as in something relatively objective. He who faced language in earlier times considered it as something objective into which the subjective was poured. He would as little not have regarded it so, as he would have lost sight of the fact that his coat is something objective, and is not grown together with his body as another skin.

As against this, the second stage of language takes the whole organism of language as another son' skin, whereas formerly language was much more loosely there, I should like to say, like a garment. I am speaking now of the stage of language in which speaking beautifully is no longer taken into first consideration, but rather speaking correctly. In this it is not a question of rhetoric and elocution, but of logic. With this stage, which has come up slowly since Aristotle's time, grammar itself became logical to the point that the logical forms were simply developed out of the grammatical forms—one abstracted the logical from the grammatical. Here all has swum together: thought and word. The sentence is that out of which one evolves the judgment. But the judgment is in truth so laid into the sentence that one no longer experiences it as inherently independent. Correct speaking, this has become the criterion.

Further, we see a new element in speaking arising, only used everywhere at the wrong point—carried over to a quite wrong domain. Beautiful speaking humanity owes to the Orient. Correct speaking lies in the middle region of civilization. And we must look to the West when seeking the third element.

But in the West it arises first of all quite corrupted. How does it arise? Well, in the first place, language has become abstract. That which is the word organism is already almost thought-organism. And this has gradually increased so much in the West, that there it would perhaps even be regarded as facetious to discuss such things. But, in a completely wrong domain, the advance already exists.

You see, in America, just in the last third of the 19th century, a philosophical trend called “pragmatism” has appeared. In England it has been called “humanism.” James² is its representative in America, Schiller³ in England. Then there are personalities who have already gone about extending these things somewhat. The merit of extending this concept of humanism in a very beautiful sense is due to Professor MacKenzie⁴ who was recently here.

To what do these endeavors lead?—I mean now, American pragmatism and English humanism. They arise from a complete skepticism about cognition: Truth is something that really doesn't exist! When we make two assertions, we actually make them fundamentally in order to have guide-points in life. To speak about an “atom”—one cannot raise any particular ground of truth for it; but it is useful to take the atom theory as a basis in chemistry; thus we set up the atom concept! It is serviceable, it is useful. There is no truth other than that which lives in useful, life-serviceable concepts. “God,” if he exists or not, this is not the question. Truth, that is something or other which is of no concern to us. But it is hard to live pleasantly if one does not set up the concept of God; it is really good to live, if one lives as if there were a God. So, let us set it up, because it's a serviceable, useful concept for life. Whether the earth began according to the Kant-Laplace theory and will end according to the mechanical warmth theory, from the standpoint of truth, no human being knows anything about this—I am now just simply reporting—, but it is useful for our thinking to represent the beginning and end of the earth in this way. This is the pragmatic teaching of James, and also in essence,the humanistic teaching of Schiller. Finally, it is also not known at all whether the human being now, proceeding from the standpoint of truth, really has a soul. That could be discussed to the end of the world, whether there is a soul or not, but it is useful to assume a soul if one wants to comprehend all that the human being carries out in life.

Of course, everything that appears today in our civilization in one place spreads to other places. For such things which arose instinctively in the West, the German had to find something more conceptual, that permits of being more easily seen through conceptually; and from this the “As If” philosophy originated: whether there is an atom or not is not the question; we consider the phenomena in such a way “as if” there was an atom. Whether the good can realize itself or not, cannot be decided; we consider life in such a way “as if” the good could realize itself. One could indeed quarrel to the end of the world about whether or not there is a God: but we consider life in such a way that we act “as if” there were a God. There you have the “As If” philosophy.

One pays little attention to these things because one imagines: there in America James sits with his pupils, there in England Schiller sits with his pupils; there is Vaihinger, who wrote the “As If” philosophy: there are a few owls who live in a kind of cloud-castle, and of what concern is it to other people!

Whoever has the ear for it, however, already hears the “As If” philosophy sounding everywhere today. Almost all human beings talk in the sense of the “As If” philosophy. The philosophers are only quite funny fellows. They always blab out what other people do unconsciously. If one is sufficiently unprejudiced for it, then one only seldom hears a human being today who still uses his words differently, in connection with his heart and with his whole soul, with his whole human being, who speaks differently than as though the matter were as he expresses it. One only does not usually have the ear to hear within the sound and the tone-color of the speaking that this “As If” lives in it,—that fundamentally people over the whole of civilization are seized by this “As If.”

Whereas things usually come to be corrupted at the end, here something shows itself to be corrupted at the beginning, something that in a higher sense must be developed for handling of speech in Anthroposophy, in the threefold order and so on. These things are so earnest, so important, that we really should speak specially about them. For it will be a question of elevating the triviality, “We need concepts because they are useful for life,” this triviality of a materialistic, utilitarian theory, of raising it up to the ethical, and perhaps through the ethical to the religious. For, if we want to work in the sense of Anthroposophy and the threefold order, we have before us the task of learning good speaking, in addition to the beautiful speaking and the correct speaking which we can acquire from history. We must maintain an ear for good speaking.

Until now, I have seen little sign that it has been noticed, when, in the course of my lectures I have called attention to this good speaking—I have done it very frequently. In referring to this good speaking I have always said that it is not only a question today that what is said be correct in the logical-abstract sense, but it is a matter of saying something in a certain connection or omitting it, not saying it in this connection. It is a question of developing a feeling that something should not only be correct, but that it is justified within its connection—that it can be either good in a certain connection or bad in a certain connection. Beyond rhetoric, beyond logic, we must learn a true ethics of speaking. We must know how we may allow ourselves things in a certain connection that would not be at all permitted in another connection.

Here I may now use an example close to hand, that could perhaps have already struck some of you who were present lately at the lectures: I spoke in a certain connection of the fact that, in reality, Goethe was not born at all. I said that Goethe for a long time endeavored to express himself through painting, through drawing, but that nothing came about from it. It then flowed over into his poetic works, and then again in the poetic works, as for example Iphigenia, or especially in Naturliche Tochter [“Daughters of Nature”], we have indeed poetic works not at all in the sentimental sense. People called these poems of Goethe's “marble smooth and marble cold,” because they are almost sculptural, because they are three-dimensional. Goethe had genuine capacities which really did not become human at all; he was actually not born.—You see, in that connection in which I spoke lately, one could quite certainly say it. But imagine, if someone were to represent it as a thesis in itself in the absolute sense! It would be not only illogical, it would he of course quite crazy.

To speak out of an awareness of a life connection is something different from finding the adequate or correct use of a word association for the thought and feeling involved. To let a pronouncement or the like arise at a particular place out of a living relationship, that is what leads over from beauty, from correctness, to the ethos of language—at which one feels, when a sentence is uttered, whether one may or may not say it in the whole context. But now, there is again an inward growing together, not with language, but with speaking. This is what I should like to call good speaking or had speaking; the third form. Aside from beautiful or ugly speaking, aside from correct or incorrect speaking, comes good or bad speaking, in the sense in which I have just presented it.

Today the view is still widespread that there can be sentences which one forms and which can then be spoken on any occasion, because they have absolute validity. In reality, for our life in the present, there are no longer such sentences. Every sentence that is possible in a certain connection, is today impossible in another connection. That means, we have entered upon an epoch of humanity's development in which we need to direct our view to this many-sidedness of living situations.

The Oriental who with his whole thinking lived within a small territory, also the Greek still, who with his spiritual life, with his rights life, with his economic life, lived on a small territory, poured something into his language that appears as a linguistic work of art must appear. How is it though in a work of art? It is such that a single finite object really appears infinite in a certain realm. In this way beauty was even defined, though one-sidedly, by Haeckel, Darwin and others: It is the appearance of the idea in a self-contained picture.—The first thing which I had to oppose in my Vienna lecture on “Goethe as the Father of a New Aesthetics,” was that the beautiful is “the appearance of the idea in outer form.” I showed then that one must mean just the reverse: that the beautiful arises when one gives to form the appearance of the infinite.

And so it is with language, which in a certain way also acts as a limited territory—as a territory which encloses the possible meaning within boundaries. If that which is actually infinite in the inner soul- and spirit-life is to click into this language, it must there come to expression in beautiful form.

In correct speaking the language must he adequate; the sentence must fit the judgment, the concept, the word. The Romans were compelled to this, especially as their territory became ever larger and larger; their language transformed itself from the beautiful into the logical. Hence the custom has been retained, of conveying logic to people precisely in the Latin language. (You have indeed learned logic quite well by it.)

But we are now once again beyond this stage. Now, it is necessary that we learn to experience language with ethos—that, to a certain extent we gain a kind of morality of speaking in our lecturing, while we know that we have in a certain context to allow ourselves something or to deny ourselves something. There, things do not click-in, in the way I described earlier, but here we make use of the word to characterize. All defining ceases; here we use the word to characterize. The word is so handled that one really feels each word as something insufficient, every sentence as something insufficient, and has the urge to characterize that which one wishes to place before humanity from the most varied aspects—to go around the matter to a certain extent, and to characterize it from the most varied aspects.

You see, for free spiritual life—that is to say spiritual life that exists out of its own laws—there is as yet not very much understanding in present-day humanity. For, mostly what is understood by free spiritual life is a structure in which people live, where each one crows his own cock-a-doodle-doo from his own dung heap—excuse the somewhat remarkable picture—and in which the most incredible consonances come about from the crowing. In reality, in free spiritual life, harmony comes about through and through, because the spirit, not the single egoists, lives—because the spirit can really lead its own life over and above the single egoists.

There is, for example,—one must already say these things today—a Waldorf School spirit definitely there for our Waldorf School in Stuttgart that is independent of the body of teachers,—into which the body of teachers grows, and in which it becomes ever more and more clear that possibly the one can be more capable or less capable, but the spirit has a life of its own.

It is an abstraction, which people today still represent to themselves, when they speak of “free spirit.” This is no reality at all. The free spirit is something that really lives among people—one must only let it come into existence; and what works among people—one must only let it come into existence.

What I have said to you today I have also said only so that what we are meant to gain here may proceed from fundamental feelings, from the feeling for the earnestness of the matter. I cannot, of course, suppose that every one will now go right out and, as those in olden times spoke beautifully, in the middle period correctly, now all will speak well! But you may not for this reason object: of what help, then, are all our lectures, if we are not at once able to speak in the sense of good speaking?—It is rather a matter of our really getting the feeling of the earnestness of the situation, which we are thus to live into, so that we know: what is wanted here is something in itself so organically whole, that a necessity of form must gradually express itself even in speech, just as a necessity of form expresses itself in the ear-lobe, such as cannot be otherwise depending on how the whole human being is.

Thus I shall try to bring still closer together what is for us the content of Anthroposophy and the threefold order with the way in which it should be presented to people. And, from the consideration of principles I shall come more and more into the concrete, and to that which should underlie the practice of lecturing.

I have often emphasized that this must be Anthroposophy's manner of presenting things. I have often emphasized that one should not indeed believe that one is able to find the adequate word, the adequate sentence; one can only conduct oneself as does a photographer who, in order to show a tree, takes at least four views.

Thus a conception that lives itself out in an abstract trivial philosophy such as pragmatism or humanism, must be raised up into the realm of the ethical. And then it must first of all live in the ethos of language. We must learn good speaking. That means that we must experience as regards speaking something of all that we otherwise experience in relation to ethics, moral philosophy.

After all, the matter has become quite clear in modern times. In the speaking of theosophists we have an archaism simply conditioned through the language—archaic, namely as regards the materialistic coloration of the last centuries: “physical body”—well, it is thick; “ether body”—it is thinner, more nebulous; “astral body”—once again thinner, but still only thinner; “I”—still thinner. Now, new members of the human being keep on coming up: they become even thinner. At last one no longer knows at all how one can reach this thinness, but in any case, it only becomes ever thinner and thinner. One does not escape the materialism. This is indeed also the hallmark of this theosophical literature. And it is always the hallmark that appears, when these things are to be spoken about, from theoretical speaking, to that which I once experienced within the Theosophical Society in Paris, (I believe it was in 1906). A lady there who was a real rock-solid theosophist, wanted to express how well she liked particular lectures which had been given in the hall in which we were; and she said: “There are such good vibrations here!” And one perceived from her that this was really thought of as something which one might sniff. Thus, the scents of the lectures which were left behind and which one could sniff out somehow, these were really meant.

We must learn to tear language away from adequacy. For it can be adequate only for the material. If we wish to use it for the spiritual, in the sense of the present epoch of development of humanity, then we must free it. Freedom must then come into the handling of language. If one does not take these things abstractly, but livingly, then the first thing into which the philosophy of freedom [spiritual activity] must come is in speaking, in the handling of language. For this is necessary; otherwise the transition will not be found, for example, to the characterization of the free spiritual life.

You see, for free spiritual life—that is to say spiritual life that exists out of its own laws—there is as yet not very much understanding in present-day humanity. For, mostly what is understood by free spiritual life is a structure in which people live, where each one crows his own cock-a-doodle-doo from his own dung heap—excuse the somewhat remarkable picture—and in which the most incredible consonances come about from the crowing. In reality, in free spiritual life, harmony comes about through and through, because the spirit, not the single egoists, lives—because the spirit can really lead its own life over and above the single egoists.

There is, for example,—one must already say these things today—a Waldorf School spirit definitely there for our Waldorf School in Stuttgart that is independent of the body of teachers,—into which the body of teachers grows, and in which it becomes more and more clear that possibly the one can be more capable or less capable, but the spirit has a life of its own.

It is an abstraction, which people today still represent to themselves, when they speak of “free spirit.” This is no reality at all. The free spirit is something that really lives among people—one must only let it come into existence.

What I have said to you today I have also said only so that what we are meant to gain here may proceed from fundamental feelings, from the feeling for the earnestness of the matter. I cannot, of course, suppose that every one will now go right out and, as those in olden times spoke beautifully, in the middle period correctly, now all will speak well! But you may not for this reason object: of what help, then, are all our lectures, if we are not at once able to speak in the sense of good speaking?—It is rather a matter of our really getting the feeling of the earnestness of the situation, which we are thus to live into so that we know: what is wanted here is something in itself so organically whole, that a necessity of form must gradually express itself even in speech, just as a necessity of form expresses itself in the earlobe, such as cannot be otherwise depending on how the whole human being is.

Thus I shall try to bring still closer together what is for us the content of Anthroposophy and the threefold order with the way in which it should be presented to people. And, from the consideration of principles I shall come more and more into the concrete, and to that which should underlie the practice of lecturing.

• 1. Ernst Curtius, 1814–1896, archeologist and historian.
• 2. William James. 1842–1910, American philosopher.
• 3. F. C. S. Schiller. 1864–1937. Representative of pragmatism in England which he combined with humanism.
• 4. S. MacKenzie, born 1560. Professor in Cardiff.

About Master Jesus and Christian Rosenkreutz

In answer to a question about the God-friend of the Oberland, Rudolf Steiner replied that he was the Master Jesus, who had been incarnated in every century since the Mystery of Golgotha. When asked if he was also incarnated now, the answer was: he is currently in the Carpathians and Rudolf Steiner indicated that he was in contact with him in a purely spiritual way.

(Reported by Friedrich Rittelmeyer without further details of the time)

In answer to a question about the significance of the meeting of twelve high-ranking Friends of God with the very elderly Friend of God from the Oberland at Easter 1380, as described in the last letter of the Friend of God, Rudolf Steiner replied: “You see, there you have the transition to Rosicrucianism. It is the same thing that Goethe pointed to in his poem “The Secrets”. Since then, Christian Rosenkreutz has been the leading being in Western intellectual life. He has since been incarnated in every century, just like the Master Jesus, the friend of God from the Oberland. Both take turns in every century and the Master Jesus has also been working in the sense of Christian Rosenkreutz since then.

(Reported by Wilhelm Rath from his conversation with Rudolf Steiner in Stuttgart, October 16, 1922)

When asked whether the Friend of God from the Oberland was Christian Rosenkreutz, Rudolf Steiner replied: No! But Christian Rosenkreutz was in the circle of 12 Friends of God, of whose secret meetings the Friend of God from the Oberland reported. - To the further question: Was the friend of God Zarathustra, Rudolf Steiner replied: Yes.

(Reported from conversations between the Christian Community pastors W. Klein and Emil Bock with Rudolf Steiner in February 1924) Master Jesus was always incarnated with breaks of no more than 12 years. (Reported by Emmy von Gummppenberg without further details)

In answer to the question: Is the disciple John mentioned in the first three gospels the same as Lazarus? Rudolf Steiner replied: The author of the Gospel of John is Lazarus. He is only called John like many people of his time. What does John mean back then!

Question: Is Lazarus the same person who is called the son of Zebedee? Counter-question: Did the sons of Zebedee even belong to the innermost circle of the twelve? To the circle of stars in which the Christ saw mirrored his being? There must be some kind of mix-up if that is what the Gospels say. Confusion should not surprise us, because the Apostles were able to exchange their bodies even under the then prevailing very different laws of the soul. The three disciples in Gethsemane were in any case part of the innermost circle of the twelve, and Lazarus also belonged to it.

(Reported from conversations between the Christian Community pastors W. Klein and Emil Bock and Rudolf Steiner in February 1924)

About Mani

The youth of Nain followed Christ as a disciple after his resurrection. He was not one of the twelve.

Question: Is he not mentioned as a disciple of Christ in the apocryphal gospels?

Answer: In his next incarnation he was Manes; the further embodiments can be recognized by legends that resemble the resurrection of Lazarus.

(Transmitted from conversations between the Christian Community pastors W. Klein and Emil Bock and Rudolf Steiner in February 1924)

Mani will not incarnate in this century; he intends to do so in the next, provided that he finds a suitable body. Conventional education offers no possibility for the development of Mani, only the Waldorf education. When the conditions are right, he will appear as a teacher of humanity and take the lead in the fields of art and religion. He will act in the power of the Grail Mysteries and guide people to decide for themselves about good and evil.

(Transmitted by Ehrenfried Pfeiffer from his conversations with Rudolf Steiner between 1919 and 1921)

Dear Dr. Steiner,

Stuttgart, January 23, 1923

I thank fate for allowing me to attend yesterday's meeting and to gain insights into things that one may have felt for but not known in their reality.

For a long time now, I have felt the need for renewal in the Anthroposophical Society. I know that the icy coldness that prevails in it in the relationship between people is an expression of the wrong attitude, which results in fragmentation and cannot cope with the struggles outside. If we had lived by even a small portion of social principles, many attacks and perhaps the worst incident at New Year would have been avoided. Yesterday, I was forced to say that we are not authorized to make accusations against the leadership. I believe that this is impossible under the impact of the findings and facts and should only be done by the doctor. Yesterday evening might have yielded better results if, in addition to what the doctor had to say about the personalities of the board and their mistakes, we had also dealt with and expressed our own suggestions for consolidating the society. I had to ask myself whether it was a good idea to immediately name the three personalities who were nominated for the new election – whether it would not have been better to call for an unprejudiced new election in the relatively small circle without immediately singling out certain personalities, which would have immediately led to a position being taken. My immediate feeling that the society should not be led by three Waldorf teachers was confirmed by Dr. [...]. However, the group from which these proposals arose has, despite all their good intentions, shown that their potential leadership will also require supplementation. This consideration again made me realize how difficult it is to find the right board of directors, because we are all only more or less able to contribute, and it is only by complementing each other that we can become suitable. I therefore thought that a force like Dr. Unger, whose clear and decisive representation, which we have once again experienced on recent significant occasions, will be difficult to replace, and I thought that if a more fortunate addition were chosen instead of Mr. Uehli, the bureaucratization that we all feel bitterly about could be eliminated. So I asked for the re-election of Dr. Unger. I also wished to advocate the election of a woman to the board because I believe that women have a specific role to fulfill in society and that a representative on the board is necessary. I wanted to bring all this up yesterday, but it turned out that I could not speak. Allow me, dear Dr. Unger, to do so today, in this way. Not because I consider what was said important, but for the sake of clarification of what I said yesterday.

May I say a few words about religious renewal. I certainly do not want to deny that the board is to blame for the confusion among the members of the Anthroposophical Society. But each member had a greater responsibility for himself. For Dr. Unger had already touched on this sense of responsibility at the very beginning of the religious renewal. So, as a member of the Anthroposophical Society, I have to say to myself: If the doctor shows leniency towards us members of the Anthroposophical Society in this matter, then this leniency is more burdensome than the accusation against the leadership of our Society. This protection is proof of our immaturity. Many anthroposophical friends believed that they would receive esotericism through the ritual of the religious renewal - the longing for this is great. I also acknowledge this longing, although I know that esotericism could be found and that it is only my weakness that prevents me from finding it.

Oh, dear Dr. Schuessler, enthusiasm is there, but so much else is missing to make us suitable, and it is one of the most bitter sufferings to find ourselves unsuitable, as we did yesterday, when the doctor's call comes to us. — The heart is overflowing, but the hands that are supposed to do deeds are empty. — But I want to!

In deep admiration, Lia Stahlbusch

[ 1 ] Within the sphere of our therapy, a special position is occupied by what we describe as “curative eurythmy”. [ 2 ] It was evolved initially by Rudolf Steiner as a new art, out of Anthroposophy. [ 3 ] The essential nature of the art of eurythmy has often been described by Dr. Steiner, and indeed in its artistic form, it has enjoyed wide recognition.

[ 4 ] Eurythmy is presented on the stage by the human being in movement; but is not an art of dance. This is evident already from the fact that in eurythmy it is mainly the arms and hands that are in movement. Groups of people in movement elevate the whole to an artistic picture on the stage.

[ 5 ] All movements are based on the inner nature of the human organization. From this, speech flows in the first years of man's life. Just as in speech the sound frees itself from the constitution of man, so, with a real knowledge of this constitution, we can derive from the human being, and from groups of human beings, movements which represent a truly genuine visible speech, or visible song. These movements are as little arbitrary as speech itself. As in a spoken word an O cannot be pronounced where an I (EE) belongs; so, in eurythmy only one kind of gesture can appear for an I or for a C-sharp. Eurythmy is thus a true manifestation of human nature and can be derived out of it, not indeed unconsciously like speech or song, but consciously by means of a true knowledge of man.

[ 6 ] In the presentation of eurythmy we have people or groups of people in movement on the stage. The poem which is thus translated into visible speech, is recited simultaneously. The audience hear the content of the poem, and see it at the same time with their eyes. Or again, a piece of music is presented, and appears at the same time as visible song in the gestures of the performers.

[ 7 ] Eurythmy as a sculptured art of movement constitutes a true extension of the sphere of the fine arts.

[ 8 ] What has been discovered as an artistic form can now be developed in two different directions. On the one hand it can be applied to education. In the Waldorf School at Stuttgart, which was founded by Emil Molt and which stands under the direction of Rudolf Steiner, educational eurythmy is done throughout the school as well as gymnastics. The fact is that in ordinary gymnastics only the dynamics and statics of the physical body are developed. In eurythmy the full human being, body, soul and spirit, goes out into movement. The growing human being perceives this and experiences the eurythmy exercises as a perfectly natural expression of his human nature, just as in earlier years he experienced learning to speak.

[ 9 ] The other aspect of eurythmy is therapeutic. If the gestures of the artistic and educational eurythmy are modified, so that they flow out of the unhealthy being of man just as the others flow out of the healthy, then curative eurythmy arises.

Movements thus carried out react on the diseased organs. We observe how the outwardly executed movement is continued inward with a health-giving influence into the organs, the moving gesture is exactly adapted to a diseased organ. Because this method of working in the human being through movement, affects body, soul and spirit, it works more intensely in the inner nature of the unhealthy human being, than all other movement-therapy.

[ 10 ] For this very reason, curative eurythmy can never become an affair for amateurs, and on no account must it be regarded or applied as such.

[ 11 ] The curative eurythmist, who must be well trained in a knowledge of the human organization, may only work in connection with the qualified doctor. All dilettantism can only lead to bad results.

[ 12 ] It is only on the basis of a proper diagnosis that the curative eurythmy treatment can be carried out. The practical results of curative eurythmy are such that we may describe them as a most beneficial part of the therapeutic approach explained in this book.

“Veni Creator Spiritus” by J. W. v. Goethe
Saying from the Calendar of the Soul (8th) by Rudolf Steiner
“All” by C. F. Meyer
Saying from the Calendar of the Soul (9th) by Rudolf Steiner
Opening “Look within” with music by Leopold van der Pals
“To the Moon“ by J. W. v. Goethe
Opening ‘Look Within’ with music by Leopold van der Pals
”Joy“ by J. W. v. Goethe
”Melody“ by Ludwig Jacobowski with musical accompaniment by Leopold van der Pals
”Swallows” by Christian Morgenstern
A saying from the Calendar of the Soul (10) by Rudolf Steiner
“Forest Concerts” by Christian Morgenstern
Children's performances of all kinds, with music by Leopold van der Pals
“To my calf” by Fercher von Steinwand
Children's performances (anapaests with music by Max Schuurman; “A Riddle” by Rudolf Steiner;
“Lenz Triumphator“ by C.F. Meyer)
”Kleiner Tanz“ by J. S. Bach (children's group with eurythmists)
”Den Originalen” by Christian Morgenstern Children's performances with music by Max Schuurman
The ‘Elster’ series by Christian Morgenstern
Opening of the conference with music by Leopold van der Pals

Eurythmy performance for the members of the “Evangelischer Lehrerverein Baselland und Baselstadi”, who had previously been given a tour of the Goetheanum by Rudolf Steiner.

Dear ladies and gentlemen!

First of all, allow me to express the deepest satisfaction - both for myself and for the Executive Council of our Goetheanum - that you have been able to honor us with your visit today. It is a special pleasure for us to find interest in your circle, in your association for our weak attempt to introduce you to modern spiritual development. We will now, since you have only a little time left, take the liberty of briefly demonstrating some of our eurythmy for you.

I will not say many words in advance, but just say that this eurythmic art has two sides. In particular, it has the artistic side, then the pedagogical-didactic side, which I do not want to touch on here in particular, and it also has a hygienic-therapeutic side. First, I would like to talk about the artistic side. Our eurythmic art is indeed a kind of artistic language, studied on the basis of Goethe's view and attitude towards art in the tone sequences and movements that underlie visible language. This eurythmic art, this silent visible language of eurythmy, I may well just briefly hint at today, is also something that will play an important role in the future. Likewise, the pedagogical-didactic direction will acquire a special significance. This art will, once people start thinking about these things a little more objectively, certainly find many friends and attract interest from onlookers.

With regard to the pedagogical-didactic part, we can say that we have already had the best experiences with it, since we have added eurythmy to the curriculum of the Stuttgart Waldorf School as a compulsory subject, as a kind of soul gymnastics. Not to replace gymnastics, but alongside ordinary gymnastics, this eurythmy class goes hand in hand with it, in a sense, a form of gymnastics for body, soul and spirit. While ordinary gymnastics is more of a physical education, this eurythmy as a spiritualized form of gymnastics has an effect particularly on the initiative of the will, on the shaping of that which is human soul initiative. I just wanted to say that in advance in relation to the presentation.

Due to the limited time that is left for you, I am unable to say anything specific about children's eurythmy. We can only give you a few examples. But I would ask you to consider what is coming in eurythmy and, in general, what can already be given today, as well as everything else here, as something that is only just beginning. Much is still in the process of development. We are our own harshest critics, but we know that this art can continue to perfect itself. And if it finds the interest of our contemporaries, then this eurythmic art will establish itself over time as a special art alongside the older sister arts. In the same way, the significant pedagogical and didactic side of educating young people will be able to play a major role in the future. I hope that you will be able to turn your interest to our events and that we will not have to disappoint you completely with our performances, which, due to the limited time, can only be a few.

The following words are from Karl Schubert, who only took down fragments of Rudolf Steiner's address in shorthand.

A visible language is expressed through the movements of the human body in space. These are not random gestures or facial expressions, but rather this visible language is truly brought out according to the same laws by which the soul and spirit of the human being reveal themselves in musical song or in spoken language. The aim is to explore, through sensory and supersensory observation, which movement tendencies are stimulated – not actual movements, as movement tendencies are transformed into sound vibrations. These are transferred to the movements of the whole person or whole groups of people.

This is based on Goethe's view. This Goethean view leads to seeing the whole plant in the individual organ, both super-sensibly and sensually. There is a whole plant in each individual leaf. What is seen in the forms can be applied to human activity. In the larynx and its neighboring organs, movement tendencies are generated during singing, in a closed human organ system. If one gets to know these movement tendencies and transfers these movements to the limbs of the whole human being, then one gets the whole human being on stage as a speech organ, and one can express the same thing that one can bring to light through singing or through poetry through the whole human being. In this way, one achieves an essential foundation for something artistic.

In our language, the content of thought appears as a particularly intrusive element. The thought pushes the artistic back. In language, will and thought meet. The thought comes from the head. It is an incomplete means of expression. Human will comes from the whole person, and so what comes from the will is what is effective and powerful in language when language is to be artistically shaped through poetry.

Those who have an organ for rejoicing when the field of art is expanded will welcome such an attempt as an attempt to expand the artistic. But the fact that these movements come about as I have described them does not make them tendentious. They arise from the whole inner lawfulness of the human organism. This inner lawfulness is something wonderful when one gets to know it. Consider the wonderful formation of the human hand. There we have the form as the sculptor reproduces it in a static way. One cannot understand a human hand without understanding one's own finger formation in such a way that it can move, without understanding the connection between the movement in the human being and the human form. The one who sees the eurythmic should have before him in direct contemplation that which can arise in the human organism in a completely lawful way in terms of movement. You can present a poem in such a way that you see how the whole human being comes into activity, into movement. Nietzsche knew what he said: He meant that what the human being wishes to reveal from the fully human can only be expressed in visible speech, whereas what is expressed in phonetic speech and song does not come from the fully human. Those who demand that the human being add pantomime to his movements would demand something grimacing.

We will hear something poetic. This declamation must become something different if it is to accompany what is being presented through eurythmy. We have indeed strayed far from what Schiller had in his soul when, before writing down the literal words of a poem, he wrote down an indeterminate melody. Goethe had more of a poetic-pictorial quality in his soul. It is not the prosaic that is at the root of it; we have to go back to the shaping of the sound, to where the linguistic expression becomes an image in the sounding. If you bring the eurythmic into the language in this way, then the declamation is able to accompany the eurythmic. Goethe therefore rehearsed the iambs with a baton. The poetic lies in the rhythmic, not in the literal.

Therapeutic-medical: Movements can be derived that have a healing and hygienic effect. The educational-didactic, which has proven itself in Waldorf schools. It can be clearly seen how the child, by immersing themselves in soulful gymnastics, feels that every single movement comes from the laws of the human being. The human being itself is taken as a means of expression.