The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Though they are quite fragmentary and incomplete and must be elaborated further at the next opportunity, I wish to emphasize again that yesterday's lecture and today's are intended to give teachers in school what they need as background for their instruction.

Yesterday, I spoke on the one hand of the role that the interval of the fifth plays in musical experience and on the other hand of the roles played by the third and the seventh. You have been able to gather from this description that music progressing in fifths is still connected with a musical experience in which the human being is actually brought out of himself; with the feeling for the fifth, man actually feels transported. This becomes more obvious if we take the scales through the range of seven octaves—from the contra-tones up to the tones above c—and consider that it is possible for the fifth to occur twelve times within these seven scales. In the sequence of the seven musical scales, we discover hidden, as it were, an additional twelve-part scale with the interval of the fifth.

What does this really mean in relation to the whole musical experience? It means that within the experience of the fifth, man with his “I” is in motion outside his physical organization. He paces the seven scales in twelve steps, as it were. He is therefore in motion outside his physical organization through the experience of the fifth.

Returning to the experience of the third—in both the major and minor third—we arrive at an inner motion of the human being. The “I” is, so to speak, within the confines of the human organism; man experiences the interval of the third inwardly. In the transition from a third to a fifth—though there is much in between with which we are not concerned here—man in fact experiences the transition from inner to outer experience. One therefore can say that in the case of the experience of the third the mood is one of consolidation of the inner being, of man's becoming aware of the human being within himself. The experience of the fifth brings awareness of man within the divine world order. The experience of the fifth is, as it were, an expansion into the vast universe, while the experience of the third is a return of the human being into the structure of his own organization. In between lies the experience of the fourth.

The experience of the fourth is perhaps one of the most interesting for one who wishes to penetrate the secrets of the musical element. This is not because the experience of the fourth in itself is the most interesting but because it arises at the dividing line between the experience of the fifth of the outer world and the experience of the third in man's inner being. The experience of the fourth lies right at the border, as it were, of the human organism. The human being, however, senses not the outer world but the spiritual world in the fourth. He beholds himself from outside, as it were (to borrow an expression referring to vision for an experience that has to do with hearing). Though man is not conscious of it, the sensation he experiences with the fourth is based on feeling that man himself is among the gods. While he has forgotten his own self in the experience of the fifth in order to be among the gods, in the experience of the fourth he need not forget his own being in order to be among the gods. With the experience of the fourth, man moves about, as it were, in the divine world; he stands precisely at the border of his humanness, retaining it, yet viewing it from the other side.

The experience of the fifth as spiritual experience was the first to be lost to humanity. Modern man does not have the experience of the fifth that still existed, let us say, four to five hundred years before our era. At that time the human being truly felt in the experience of the fifth, “I stand within the spiritual world.” He required no instrument in order to produce outwardly the interval of a fifth. Because he still possessed imaginative consciousness, he felt that the fifth, which he himself had produced, took its course in the divine realm. Man still had imaginations, still had imaginations in the musical element. There was still an objectivity, a musical objectivity, in the experience of the fifth. Man lost this earlier than the objective experience of the fourth. The experience of the fourth, much later on, was such that during this experience man believed that he lived and wove in something etheric. With the experience of the fourth he felt—if I may say so—the holy wind that had placed him into the physical world. Based on what they said, it is possible that Ambrose and Augustine still felt this. Then this experience of the fourth was also lost. One required an outer instrument in order to be objectively certain of the fourth.

We thus have pointed out at the same time what the musical experience was like in very ancient ages of human evolution. Man did not yet know the third; he descended only to the fourth. He did not distinguish between, “I sing,” and “there is singing.” These two were one for him. He was outside himself when he sang, and at the same time he had an outer instrument. He had an impression, an imagination, as it were, of a wind instrument, or of a string instrument. Musical instruments appeared to man at first as imaginations. Musical instruments were not invented through experimentation; with the experimentation of the piano they have been derived from the spiritual world.

With this, we have described the origin of song as well. It is hard today to give an idea of what song itself was like in the age when the experience of the fifth was still pure. Song was indeed something akin to an expression of the word. One sang, but this was at the same time a speaking of the spiritual world. One was conscious that if one spoke of cherries and grapes one used earthly words; if one spoke of the gods, one had to sing.

Then came the time when man no longer had imaginations. He still retained the remnants of imaginations, however, though one does not recognize them as such today—they are the words of language. The spiritual element incarnated into the tones of song, which in turn incarnated into the elements of words. This was a step into the physical world. The inner emancipation of the song element into arias and the like took place after that; this was a later development.

If we return to the primeval song of humanity, we find that it was a speaking of the gods and of the proceedings of the gods. As I mentioned earlier, the fact of the twelve fifths in the seven scales is evidence that the possibility of motion outside the human realm existed in music in the interval of the fifth. Only with the fourth does man really approach himself with the musical element.

Yesterday, someone said quite rightly that man senses an emptiness in the interval of the fifth. Naturally, he must experience something empty in the fifth, since he no longer has imaginations, and the fifth corresponds to an imagination while the third corresponds to a perception within man's being. Today, therefore, man feels an emptiness in the fifth and must fill it with the substantiality of the instrument. This is the transition of the musical element from the more spiritual age to the later materialistic age.

For earlier ages, the relationship of musical man to his instrument must be pictured as the greatest possible unity. A Greek actor even felt the need of amplifying his voice with an instrument. The process of drawing the musical experience inward came later. Formerly, man felt that in relation to music he carried a certain circle of tones within himself that reached downward, excluding the realm of tones below the contra-c. Upward, it did not reach the tones beyond c but was a closed circle. Man then had the consciousness, “I have been given a narrow circle of the musical element. Out there in the cosmos the musical element continues in both directions. I need the instruments in order to reach this cosmic musical element.”

Now we must take the other aspects of music into consideration if we wish to become acquainted with this whole matter. The center of music today is harmony. I am referring to the sum total of music, not song or instrumental music. The element of harmony takes hold directly of human feeling. What is expressed in harmonies is experienced by human feeling. Now, feeling passes into thinking [Vorstellen].¹ In looking at the human being, we can say that we have feeling in the middle; on the one hand we have the feeling that passes into thinking, on the other hand we have the feeling that passes into willing. Harmony directly addresses itself to feeling and is experienced in it. The whole emotional nature of man, however, is actually twofold. We have a feeling that is more inclined to thinking—when we feel our thoughts, for instance—and we have a feeling more inclined to willing. When we engage in an action, we feel whether it pleases or displeases us; in the same way, we feel pleasure or displeasure with an idea. Feeling is actually divided into these two realms.

The peculiar thing about the musical element is that neither must it penetrate completely into thinking—because it would cease to be something musical the moment it was taken hold of by the brain's conceptual faculty—nor should it sink down completely into the sphere of willing. We cannot imagine, for example, that the musical element itself could become a direct will impulse without being an abstract sign. When you hear the ringing of the dinner bell, you will go because it announced that it is time to go for dinner, but you will not take the bell's musical element as the impulse for the will. This illustrates that music should not reach into the realm of willing any more than into that of thinking. In both directions it must be contained. The musical experiences must take place within the realm situated between thinking and willing. It must unfold in that part of the human being that does not belong at all to ordinary day-consciousness but that has something to do with that which comes down from spiritual worlds, incarnates, and then passes again through death. It is present in the subconscious, however. For this reason, music has no direct equivalent in outer nature. In adapting himself to the earth, man finds his way into what can be grasped conceptually and what he wills to do. Music, however, does not extend this far into thinking and willing; yet, the element of harmony has a tendency to stream, as it were, toward thinking. It must not penetrate thinking, but it streams toward it. This streaming into the region of our spirit, where we otherwise think [vorstellen], is brought about by the harmony out of the melody.

The element of melody guides the musical element from the realm of feeling up to that of thinking. You do not find what is contained in thinking in the thematic melody, but the theme does contain the element that reaches up into the same realm where mental images are otherwise formed. Melody contains something akin to mental images, but it is not a mental image; it clearly takes its course in the life of feeling. It tends upward, however, so that the feeling is experienced in the human head. The significance of the element of melody in human nature is that it makes the head of the human being accessible to feelings. Otherwise, the head is only open to the concept. Through melody the head becomes open to feeling, to actual feeling. It is as if you brought the heart into the head through melody. In the melody you become free, as you normally are in thinking; feeling becomes serene and purified. All outer aspects are eliminated from it, but at the same time it remains feeling through and through.

Just as harmony can tend upward toward thinking, so it can tend downward toward willing. It must not penetrate the realm of willing, however; it must restrain itself, as it were, and this is accomplished through the rhythm. Melody thus carries harmony upward; rhythm carries harmony in the direction of willing. This is restricted willing, a measured will that runs its course in time; it does not proceed outward but remains bound to man himself. It is genuine feeling that extends into the realm of willing.

Now it becomes understandable that when a child first enters school, it comprehends melodies more readily than harmonies. Of course, one must not take this pedantically; pedantry must never play a role in the artistic. It goes without saying that one can introduce the child to all sorts of things. Just as the child should comprehend only fifths during the first year of school—at most also fourths, but not thirds; it begins to grasp thirds inwardly only from age nine onward—one can also say that the child easily understands the element of melody, but it begins to understand the element of harmony only when it reaches the age of nine or ten. Naturally, the child already understands the tone, but the actual element of harmony can be cultivated in the child only after the above age has been reached. The rhythmic element, on the other hand, assumes the greatest variety of forms. The child will comprehend a certain inner rhythm while it is still very young. Aside from this instinctively experienced rhythm, however, the child should not be troubled until after it is nine years old with the rhythm that is experienced, for example, in the elements of instrumental music. Only then should the child's attention be called to these things. In the sphere of music, too, the age levels can indicate what needs to be done. These age levels are approximately the same as those found elsewhere in Waldorf education.

Taking a closer look at rhythm, we see that since the rhythmic element is related to the nature of will—man must inwardly activate his will when he wishes to experience music—it is the rhythmic element that kindles music in the first place. Regardless of man's relationship to rhythm, all rhythm is based on the mysterious connection between pulse and breath, the ratio of eighteen breaths per minute to an average of seventy-two pulse beats per minute. This ratio of 1:4 naturally can be modified in any number of ways; it can also be individualized. Each person has his own experience regarding rhythm; since these experiences are approximately the same, however, people understand each other in reference to rhythm. All rhythmic experience bases itself on the mysterious relationship between breathing and the heartbeat, the circulation of the blood. One thus can say that while the melody is carried from the heart to the head on the stream of breath—and therefore in an outer slackening and inner creation of quality—the rhythm is carried on the waves of the blood circulation from the heart to the limbs, and in the limbs it is arrested as willing. From this you can see how the musical element really pervades the whole human being.

Picture the whole human being who experiences the musical element as a human spirit: the ability to experience the element of melody gives you the head of this spirit. The ability to experience the element of harmony gives you the chest, the central organ of the spirit; and the ability to experience rhythm gives you the limbs of the spirit. What have I described for you here? I have described the human etheric body. If only you depict the whole musical experience, and if you do this correctly, you actually have before you the human etheric body. It is just that instead of “head” was say, “melody”; instead of “rhythmic man”—because it is lifted upward—we say, “harmony”; and instead of “limb man”—we cannot say here, “metabolic man”—we say, “rhythm.” We have the entire human being etherically before us. The musical experience is nothing else than this. The human being really experiences himself as etheric body in the experience of the fourth, but a kind of summation forms within him. The experience of the fourth contains a touch of melody, a touch of harmony, a touch of rhythm, but all interwoven in such a way that they are no longer distinguishable. The entire human being is experienced spiritually at the threshold in the experience of the fourth: one experiences the etheric human being.

If today's music were not a part of the materialistic age, if all that man experiences today did not contaminate the musical element, then, based on what man possesses today in the musical element—which in itself has attained world-historical heights—he could not but be an anthroposophist. If you wish to experience the musical element consciously, you cannot but experience it anthroposophically.

If you take these things as they are, you can ponder, for example, over the following point: everywhere in ancient traditions concerning spiritual life, mention is made of man's sevenfold nature. The theosophical movement also adopted this view of the sevenfold nature of the human being. When I wrote my Theosophy, I had to speak of a ninefold nature, further dividing the three individual members. I arrived at a sevenfold from a ninefold organization.

Since three and four overlap, as do six and seven, I too, arrived at the sevenfold human being in Theosophy. This book, however, never could have been written in the age dominated by the experience of the fifth. The reason is that in that age all spiritual experience resulted from the awareness that the number of planets was contained in the seven scales, and the number of signs in the Zodiac was contained in the twelve fifths within the seven scales. The great mystery of man was revealed in the circle of fifths, and in that period you could not write about theosophy in any way but by arriving at the sevenfold human being. My Theosophy was written in an age during which predominantly the third is experienced by human beings, in other words, in the age of introversion. One must seek the spiritual in a similar way, descending from the interval of the fifth by division to the interval of the third. I therefore also had to divide the individual members of man. You can say that those other books that speak of the sevenfold human being stem from the tradition of the age of fifths, from the tradition of the circle of fifths. My Theosophy is from the age in which the third plays the dominant musical role and in which, because of this, the complication arises that the more inward element tends toward the minor side, the more outward element toward the major side. This causes the indistinct overlapping between the sentient body and sentient soul. The sentient soul relates to the minor third, the sentient body to the major third. The facts of human evolution are expressed in musical development more clearly than anywhere else. As I already told you yesterday, however, one must forego concepts; abstract conceptualizing will get you nowhere here.

When it comes to acoustics, or tone physiology, there is nothing to be gained. Acoustics has no significance, except for physics. A tone physiology that would have significance for music itself does not exist. If one wishes to comprehend the musical element, one must enter into the spiritual.

You see how the interval of the fourth is situated between the fifth and the third. Man feels transported in the fifth. In the third he feels himself within himself; in the fourth he is on the border between himself and the world. Yesterday I told you that the seventh was the dominant interval for the Atlanteans. They had only intervals of the seventh, though they did not have the same feeling as we have today. When they made music they were transported completely beyond themselves; they were within the great, all-pervading spirituality of the universe in an absolute motion. They were being moved. This motion was still contained in the experience of the fifth as well. Again, the sixth is in between. From this we realize that man experiences these three steps, the seventh, the sixth, and the fifth, in a transported condition; he enters into his own being in the fourth; he dwells within himself in the third. Only in the future will man experience the octave's full musical significance. A bold experience of the second has not yet been attained by him today; these are matters that lie in the future. When man's inner life intensifies, he will experience the second, and finally he will be sensitive to the single tone.

If you focus on what is said here, you will grasp better the forms that appear in our tone eurythmy. You will also grasp something else. You will, for example, grasp the reason that out of instinct the feeling will arise to interpret the lower segments of the octave—the prime, second and third—by backward movements and in the case of the upper tones—the fifth, sixth, and seventh—by forward movements.

These are more or less the forms that can be used as stereotypical forms, as typical forms. In the case of the forms that have been developed for individual musical compositions, you will be able to sense that these forms express the experience of the fourth or the fifth.

In eurythmy it is necessary that this part here—the descent of harmony through rhythm into willing—finds emphatic expression in form. The individual intervals thus are contained in the forms as such, executed by the eurthymist. Then, however, that which passes from the intervals into rhythm must be experienced fully by the performer in these forms; and quite by itself the instinct will arise to make as small a movement as possible without standing still in the case of the fourth. You see, the fourth is in fact a real perceiving, but a perceiving from the other side. It would be as if the eye, in perceiving itself, would have to look back upon itself; this, then, is the experience of the fourth gained from the soul.

The interval of the fifth is a real experience of imagination. He who can experience fifths correctly is actually in a position to know on the subjective level what imagination is like. One who experiences sixths knows what inspiration is. Finally, one who fully experiences sevenths—if he survives this experience—knows what intuition is. What I mean is that in the experience of the seventh the form of the soul's composition is the same as clairvoyantly with intuition. The form of the soul's composition during the experience of the sixth is that of inspiration with clairvoyance. The experience of the fifth is a real imaginative experience. The same composition of soul need only be filled with vision. Such a composition of soul is definitely present in the case of music.

This is why you hear everywhere that in the older mystery schools and remaining mystery traditions clairvoyant cognition is also called musical cognition, a spiritual-musical cognition. Though people today no longer know why, the mysteries refer to the existence of two kinds of cognition, ordinary bodily, intellectual cognition and spiritual cognition, which is in fact a musical cognition, a cognition living in the musical element. It would not actually be so difficult to popularize the understanding of the threefold human being if only people today were conscious of their musical experiences. Certainly to some extent people do have sensitivity for the experience of the musical element. They actually stand alongside it. The experience of the musical element is as yet quite limited. If it were really to become alive in man, he would feel: my etheric head is in the element of melody, and the physical has fallen away. Here, I have one aspect of the human organization. The element of harmony contains the center of my etheric system; again, the physical has fallen away. Then we reach the next octave; again in the limb system—it is obvious and goes without saying—I find the element that appears as the rhythmic element of music.

How, indeed, does the musical evolution of man proceed? It begins with the experience of the spiritual, the actual presence of the spiritual in tone, in the musical tone structure. The spiritual fades away; man retains the tone structure. Later, he links it with the word, which is a remnant of the spiritual; and what he had earlier as imaginations, namely the instruments, he fashions here in the physical, out of physical substance, as his musical instruments. To the extent that they arouse the musical instruments, man simply filled the empty spaces that remained after he no longer beheld the spiritual. Into those spaces he put the physical instruments.

It is correct to say that in music more than anywhere else one can see how the transition to the materialistic age proceeds. In the place where musical instruments resound today, spiritual entities stood formerly. They are gone, they have disappeared from the ancient clairvoyance. If man wishes to take objective hold of the musical element, however, he needs something that does not exist in outer nature. Outer nature offers him no equivalent to the musical element; therefore, he requires musical instruments.

The musical instruments basically are a clear reflection of the fact that music is experienced by the whole human being. The wind instruments prove that the head of man experiences music. The string instruments are living proof that music is experience in the chest, primarily expressed in the arms. All percussion instruments—or those in between string and percussion instruments—are evidence of how the musical element is expressed in the third part of man's nature, the limb system. Also, however, everything connected with the wind instruments has a more intimate relation to the melody than that which is connected with string instruments which have a relation to the element of harmony. That which is connected with percussion possesses more inner rhythm and relates to the rhythmic element. An orchestra is an image of man; it must not include a piano, however. Why is that? The musical instruments are derived from the spiritual world; the piano, however, in which the tones are abstractly lined up next to each other, is created only in the physical world by man. All instruments like the flute or violin originate musically from the higher world. A piano is like the Philistine who no longer contains within him the higher human being. The piano is the Philistine instrument. It is fortunate that there is such an instrument, or else the Philistine would have no music at all. The piano arises out of a materialistic experience of music. It is therefore the instrument that can be used most conveniently to evoke the musical element within the material realm. Pure matter was put to use so that the piano could become an expression of the musical element. Naturally, the piano is a beneficial instrument—otherwise, we would have to rely from the beginning on the spiritual in musical instruction in our materialistic age—but it is the one instrument that actually, in a musical sense, must be overcome. Man must get away from the impressions of the piano if he wishes to experience the actual musical element.

It is therefore always a great experience when a composition by an artist who basically lives completely in the element of music, such as Bruckner, is played on the piano. In Bruckner's compositions, the piano seems to disappear in the room! One forgets the piano and thinks that one is hearing other instruments; this is indeed so in Bruckner's case. It proves that something of the essentially spiritual, which lies at the basis of all music, still lived in Bruckner, though in a very instinctive way.

These are the things that I wished to tell you today, though in a fragmentary, informal way. I believe we will soon have an opportunity to continue with these matters. Then, I shall go into more detail concerning this or that aspect.

• 1. In the following passages, Vorstellen, the forming of mental images, or the lower aspect of thinking, has been translated thinking, in its relationship to feeling and willing.

Today I want to point once again to an ideal associated with the Goetheanum, which we have just had the great misfortune of losing. My purpose in referring to it again is to make sure that correct thinking prevails on the score of a step about to be taken in Stuttgart in the next few days, a step in the direction of making a new life in the Anthroposophical Society. Whatever anthroposophy brings forth must be built on a solid foundation of enthusiasm, and we can create the right enthusiasm only by keeping oriented to that ideal that every anthroposophical heart should be cherishing and that is great enough to unite all the Society's members in its warmth.

It cannot be denied that enthusiasm for this ideal of anthroposophical cooperation has dwindled somewhat during the three successive phases of anthroposophical development, though the ideal itself remains. As we stand grieving beside the ruins of the building that brought that anthroposophical ideal to eloquent external expression, it becomes the more important that we join forces in the right common feeling toward it. Shared feeling will lead to shared thoughts and beget a strength much needed in view of the constantly increasing enmity that confronts us. Therefore, instead of continuing to discuss matters that have been the focus of my lectures of the past several weeks, you will perhaps allow me to recall an outstanding memory that has a connection with the Goetheanum and is well-suited to restoring the kind of relationships between members that we need in the Anthroposophical Society. For to hold common ideals enkindles the love that every single anthroposophist should be feeling for his fellow members and that can be relied on to dissipate any hard feelings that members of the Society could be harboring against any others, even if only in their thoughts about them.

You may remember that when we started the first High School course at the Goetheanum, I gave a short introductory talk stressing the fact that what people were accomplishing there represented a new kind of striving whereby art, science and religion were to be united in a truly universal sense.

What was being striven for at the Goetheanum, what its forms and colors were meant to convey, was an ideal, a scientific, artistic and religious ideal. It should be the more deeply graven on our hearts now that it can no longer speak to us through outer forms and colors. That will perhaps be brought about if we continue to do as we have been doing these past few weeks in regard to other subjects under study and enquire how earlier periods of human evolution went about pursuing a scientific, artistic and religious ideal.

If we look back at the tremendous, lofty spiritual life of the ancient Orient, we come to a time when the spiritual content of everything revered by these Oriental peoples was immediate revelation to them—a time when they had no doubt whatsoever that the things their senses perceived were mere tracings in matter of divine realities that had been revealed to a visionary capacity none the less real to them for its dreamlike quality.

That way of beholding, instinctive though it was, was at one time such that people in certain specific states of consciousness could perceive spiritual beings in the universe in all their immediate reality, just as with their bodily senses they perceived things and creatures of the three natural kingdoms. The Oriental of an older time was just as convinced by immediate perception of the existence of the divine-spiritual beings connected with the human race as he was of the existence of his fellow men.

This was the source of his inner religious certainty, which differed in no way from his certainty concerning things in nature round about him. He saw his god, and could therefore believe in his existence just as firmly as he believed in the existence of a stone, a plant, clouds or rivers. What modern science dubs animism, picturing the ancients relying on poetic fantasy to endow nature with a living spiritual element, is an invention of childish dilettantism. The fact is that people beheld spiritual beings in the same way they beheld the world of nature and the senses.

This was, as I said, the source of the certainty in their religious life. But it was equally the source they drew on for artistic creation. The spiritual appeared to them in concrete form. They were familiar with the shapes and colors assumed by spiritual elements. They could bring their perception of the spiritual to material expression. They took such building materials as were available, the materials of sculpture and of the other arts, and applied such techniques as they had to express what was spiritually revealed to them.

The reverence they felt in inner soul relationships to their gods was the content of their religious life. When they imprinted on matter what they had beheld in the spirit, that was felt to be their art. But the techniques and the physical materials at their disposal for expressing what they thus beheld fell far short of their actual visions.

We come upon a period in the evolution of the ancient Orient when the divine-spiritual—or, as Goethe called it, the sensible-super-sensible—that man beheld was exceedingly lofty and gloriously beautiful. People's feelings and fantasy were powerfully stirred by their perception of it. But because techniques for dealing with material media were still so rudimentary, artistic creations of the period were but primitive symbolical or allegorical expressions of the far greater beauty human beings perceived with spiritual eyes. An artist of those ancient times describing his work with the feeling-nuance we have today would have said, “What the spirit reveals to me is beautiful, but I can bring only a weak reflection of it to expression in my clay or wood or other media.”

Artists in those days were people who beheld the spiritual in all its beauty and passed on their vision in sense perceptible form to others who could not behold it for themselves. These latter were convinced that when an artist embodied what he saw spiritually in his symbolical or allegorical forms, these forms enabled them, too, to find their way into the world beyond the earth, a world that a person had to enter to experience his full dignity as a human being.

This relationship to the divine-spiritual was so immediate, so real, so concrete that people felt that the thoughts they had were a gift of the gods, who were as present to them as their fellow men. They expressed it thus, “When I talk with human beings, we speak words that sound on the air. When I talk with the gods, they tell me thoughts that I hear only inside me. Words expressed in sounds are human words. Words expressed in thoughts are communications from the gods.”

When human beings had thoughts, they did not believe them to be products of their own soul activity. They believed that they were hearing thoughts whispered to them by divinities. When they perceived with their ears, they said they heard people. When they heard with their souls, when their perception was of thoughts, they said they heard spiritual beings. Knowledge that lived in idea form was thus communication from divine sources in the experiencing of ancient peoples, perception of the Logos as it spoke directly through the gods to men.

We can say, then, that men's beholding of the gods became the inner life of the religious ideal. Their symbolical-allegorical expression of divine forms through the various media was the life underlying the ideal of art. In their re-telling of what the gods had told them lived the ideal of science. These three ideals merged into one in ancient Oriental times, for they were at bottom one and the same.

In the first ideal, men looked up to divine revelation. Their whole soul life was completely suffused with religious feeling. Science and art were the two realms in which the gods shared mankind's life on earth. The artist engaged in creative activity felt that his god was guiding his hand, poets felt their utterance being formed by gods. “Sing to me, Muse, of the anger of the great Peleid, Achilles.” It was not the poet speaking; it was, he felt, the Muse speaking in him, and that was the fact. The abstract modern view, which attributes such statements to poetic license, is a grotesque piece of the childish nonsense so rampant today. Those who adopt it do not know how truly Goethe spoke when he said, “What you call the spirit of the times is just your own spirit with the times reflected in it.”

If we now turn our attention from the way the threefold ideal of religion, art and science lived in ancient Oriental man to consider how it was expressed by the Greeks and the Romans who were such a bare, prosaic copy of them, we find these three ideals in a further form of development. The divine-spiritual that had revealed itself to man from shining heights above was felt by the Greeks to be speaking directly through human beings. Religious life attached itself much more closely to the human, in the sense that a Greek not only experienced his inner life, but his very form, as god-permeated, god-suffused. He no longer looked up to shining heights above him; he looked at the marvellous shape of man. He no longer had the ancient Oriental's direct contemplation of divinity; his beholding was only a weak shadow of it. But anyone who can really enter into Greek poetry, art and philosophy perceives the basic feeling the Greek had, which led him to say that earthly man was more than just a composite of the material elements that his senses perceived in the external world; he saw in him a proof of the existence of divinity. This man of earth whom the Greek could not regard as of earthly origin was for him living proof that Zeus, that Athene ruled in spiritual worlds.

So we see the Greeks looking upon the human form and man's developing inner life as sublime proof of the gods' governance. They could picture their gods as human because they still had such a profound experience of the divine in man.

It was one thing for the Greek to picture his gods as human beings and quite another for modern man to conceive a divine man under the influence of a degraded anthropomorphism. For to the Greek, man was still a living proof of his divine origin. The Greeks felt that no such thing as man could exist if the world were not permeated through and through by the divine.

Religion played a vital part in conceiving man. A person was revered not for what he had made of himself, but just because he was a human being. It was not his everyday achievements or an ambitious earthly striving to excel that inspired reverence; it was what had come with him as his humanness into life on earth. The reverence accorded him enlarged to reverence for the divine-spiritual world.

The artistic ideal entertained by the Greeks was, on the one hand, a product of their feeling for the divine-spiritual element they embodied and to which their presence on earth testified. On the other hand, they had a strong sense—unknown to the ancient Oriental—of the laws governing the physical world of nature, the laws of consonance and dissonance, of volume, of the inertia or the supporting capacity of various earth materials. Where the Oriental handled his media awkwardly and was unable to go beyond a crudely symbolical-allegorical treatment of the spiritual reality that overwhelmed and overflowed him, so that the spiritual fact he was trying to give expression to in some work of art was always far more glorious and grand than the awkward representation of it, the Greek's striving was to embody all the fulness of his spiritual experience in the physical medium he had by this time learned to handle.

The Greeks never allowed a column to be any thicker than it had to be to carry the weight it was intended to support. They would not have permitted themselves to represent anything of a spiritual nature in the awkward manner characteristic of ancient Oriental art; the physical laws involved had to have been perfectly mastered. Spirit and matter had to be united in a balanced union. There is as much of spirit as of material lawfulness in a Greek temple, and a statue embodies as much of the spiritual element as the expressiveness of the material allows. Homer's verses flow in a way that directly manifests the flowing of divine speech in the human. The poet felt as he shaped his words that he had to let the laws of language itself be his guide to the achieving of perfect control over every aspect of his utterance. Nothing could be left in the awkward, stammering form typical of ancient Oriental hymns. It had to be expressed in a way that did full justice to the spirit. The goal, in other words, was so fully to master the physical laws inherent in the artistic medium employed that every last vestige of what the spirit had revealed was made manifest in sense perceptible form.

The Greeks' feeling that man was evidence of divine creation was matched by their feeling that works of art, like temples and statues, also had to bear witness to divine governance, though that was now conceived as acting through the agency of human fantasy. Looking at a temple, one could see that its builder had so mastered all the laws of his medium that every least detail of their application reflected what he had experienced in his intercourse with the gods.

The earliest Greek tragedies were plays in which the dramatis personae represented spiritual beings such as Apollo and Dionysos, with the chorus an echo of sorts, an echo of the divine that ruled in nature. Tragedies were intended to bring to expression through human beings as an adequate medium events transpiring in the spiritual world. But this was not conceived as in ancient Oriental times, when man had, as it were, to look up into a higher realm than that where the work of art stood. Instead, it was thought of as taking place on the level on which the tragedy was being enacted, making it possible to experience in every gesture, every word, every recitativ of the chorus how a spiritual element was pouring itself into sense perceptible forms beautifully adapted to it. This constituted the Greek ideal of art.

And the scientific ideal? The Greek no longer felt as livingly as the Oriental had that the gods were speaking to him in ideas and thoughts. He already had some inkling of the fact that effort was attached to thinking. But he still felt thoughts to be as real as sense perceptions, just as he felt earthly human beings with their human forms and inner life to be walking evidence of divinity. He perceived his thoughts in the same way that he perceived red or blue, C # or G, and he perceived them in the outer world in the same way that eyes and ears receive sense impressions. This meant that he no longer experienced the speaking of the Logos quite as concretely as the Oriental did. The Greeks did not compose Vedas, of which the Orientals had felt that the gods gave them the ideas they expressed. The Greek knew that he had to work out his thoughts, just as someone knows that he has to use his eyes and look about him if he wants to see the surrounding world. But he still knew that the thoughts he developed were divine thoughts impressed into nature. A thought was therefore earthly proof of the gods' speaking. Whereas the Oriental still heard that speaking, the Greek discerned the human quality of language, but saw in it direct earthly proof of the existence of divine speech.

To the Greeks, science was thus also like a divine gift, something obviously despatched to earth by the spirit, exactly as man with his divine outer form and inner experiencing had been sent here. So we see how the religious, artistic and scientific ideal changed in the course of humanity's evolution from the Oriental to the Greek culture.

In our epoch, which, as I have often explained, began in the first third of the fifteenth century, Western man's development has again reached a point where he is confronted with the necessity of bringing forth new forms of the venerable, sacred ideals of religion, art and science. This development was what I had in mind when we were launching the first High School course at the Goetheanum. I wanted to make it clear that the Goetheanum stood there because the inner laws of human evolution require that the religious, artistic and scientific ideals be clothed in magnificent new forms transcending even those of Greece.

That is why one feels so overwhelmed by grief as one's eye falls on ruins where a building should be standing and indicating in its every form and line and color the new shape that the three great ideals should be assuming as they emerge from the innermost soul of an evolving humanity. Grief and sorrow are the only emotions left to us as we contemplate the site that was meant to speak so eloquently of the renewal of man's three great ideals. Ruins occupy it, leaving us only one possibility, that of cherishing in our hearts everything we hoped to realize there. For while another building might conceivably be erected in its place, it would certainly not be the one we have lost. In other words, it will never again be possible for a building to express what the old Goetheanum expressed.

That is why everything the Goetheanum was intended to contribute to the three great ideals of the human race should be the more deeply graven on our hearts. In our day we cannot say with the clairvoyant Oriental of an older time that the divine-spiritual confronts us in all its shining immediacy as do the creatures of the sense world, or that the deeds of the gods are as present to our soul perception as any sense perceptible acts that may be performed in the external world in everyday living. But when we quicken our inquiry into man and nature with the living quality with which anthroposophical thinking and feeling endow such studies, we see the world for the cosmos, or the universe clothed in a different form than that in which the Greeks beheld it.

When a Greek made nature the object of his study or contemplated human beings moving about in the world of the senses, he had the feeling that where a spring welled up or a mountain thrust its cloud-crowned peak into the sky, when the sun came up in the rosy brilliance of the dawn or a rainbow spanned the heavens, there the spirit spoke in these phenomena. The Greeks beheld nature in a way that enabled them to feel the presence of the spirit in it. Their contemplation of nature really satisfied them; what they saw there satisfied every facet of their beings.

I have often emphasized how justifiably people speak of an advance in natural science, and anthroposophy is in a unique position to recognize the real significance of the scientific progress of recent centuries. I have often stressed this. Anthroposophy is far from wanting to denigrate or to criticize science and scientific inquiry; it honors all truly sincere study. In the course of recent centuries, my dear friends, people have indeed learned an enormous amount about nature. If one goes more deeply into what has been learned, the study of nature leads, as I have often stated from this platform, to insight into man's repeated earth lives, insight into the transformation of nature. One gets a preview of the future, when man will bring to new forms of life what his senses and his soul and spirit are experiencing in the present moment.

If one undertakes a suitably deeper study of nature, one's total outlook on it becomes different from that that the Greeks had. It might be said that they saw nature as a fully matured being from which the glory of the spiritual worlds shone out. Modern man is no longer able to look upon nature in this light. If we survey everything we have come to know and feel about nature's creations as a result of making use of our many excellent devices and instruments, we see nature rather as harboring seed forces, as bearing in its womb something that can come to maturity only in a distant future.

The Greek saw every plant as an organism that had already reached a perfect stage for the reason that the god of the species lived in each single specimen. Nowadays we regard plants as something that nature has to bring to still higher stages. Everywhere we look we see seed elements. Every phenomenon we encounter in this unfinished nature, so pregnant with future possibilities, causes us to feel that a divine element reigns over nature and must continue to do so to ensure its progressing from an embryonic to an eventually perfect stage.

We have learned to look much more precisely at nature. The Greek saw the bird where we see the egg. He saw the finished stage of things; we, their beginnings. The person who feels his whole heart and soul thrill to the seed aspects, the seed possibilities in nature, is the man who has the right outlook on it.

That is the other side of modern natural science. Anyone who starts looking through microscopes and telescopes with a religious attitude will find seed stages everywhere. The exactness characteristic of the modern way of studying nature allows us to see it as everywhere creative, everywhere hastening toward the future. That creates the new religious idea.

Of course, only a person with a feeling for the seed potentialities that each individual will live out in other, quite different earthly and cosmic lives to come can develop the religious ideal I am describing.

The Greeks saw in man the composite of everything there was in the cosmos of his own period. The ancient Orientals saw in man the composite of the whole cosmic past. Today, we sense seeds of the future in human beings. That gives the new religious ideal its modern coloring.

Now let us go on to consider the new ideal of art. What do we find when we subject nature and its forms to a deeper, life-attuned study, refusing to call a halt at externalities and abstract ideas? My dear friends, you saw what we find before your very eyes in the capitals of our Goetheanum pillars and in the architrave motifs that crowned them. None of this was the result of observing nature; it was the product of experiencing with it. Nature brings forth forms, but these could just as well be others. Nature is always challenging us to change, to metamorphose its forms. A person who merely observes nature from the outside copies its forms and falls into naturalism. A person who experiences nature, who doesn't just look at the shapes and colors of plants, who really has an inner experience of them, finds a different form slipping out of every plant and stone and animal for him to embody in his medium. The Greek method, which aimed at completely expressing the spirit through a masterly handling of the medium, is not our method. Our way is to enter so deeply into nature's forms that one can bring them to further, independent metamorphosis. We do not resort to the symbolical-allegorical Oriental treatment or strive for the Greek's technical mastery of a medium. Our method is so to handle every line and color in the work of art that it strives toward the divine. The Oriental employed symbolism and allegory to express the divine, which rayed out like an aura from his works, rayed out and welled over and submerged them, speaking much more eloquently than the forms did. We moderns must create works where in the form element speaks more eloquently than nature itself does, yet speaks in a manner so akin to it that every line and color becomes nature's prayer to the divine. In our coming to grips with nature we develop forms wherein nature itself worships divinity. We speak to nature in artistic terms.

In reality, every plant, every tree has the desire to look up in prayer to the divine. This can be seen in a plant's or a tree's physiognomy. But plants and trees do not dispose over a sufficient capacity to express this. It is there as a potential, however, and if we bring it out, if we embody in our architectural and sculptural media the inner life of trees and plants and clouds and stones as that life lives in their lines and colors, then nature speaks to the gods through our works of art. We discover the Logos in the world of nature. A higher nature than that surrounding us reveals itself in art, a higher nature that, in its own entirely natural way, releases the Logos to stream upward to divine-spiritual worlds.

In Oriental works of art the Logos streamed downward, finding only stammering expression in human media. Our art forms must be true speech forms, voicing what nature itself would say if it could live out its potential. That is the new artistic ideal that comes to stand beside the religious ideal that looks at nature from the standpoint of its seed endowment.

The third is our scientific ideal. That is no longer based on the feeling the Orientals had that thoughts are something whispered straight into human souls by gods. Nor can it have kinship with the Greek ideal, which felt thoughts to be inner witnesses to the divine. Nowadays we have to exert purely human forces, work in a purely human way, to develop thoughts. But once we have made the effort and achieved thoughts free of any taint of egotism, self-seeking, subjective emotionality or partisan spirit such as colors thoughts with prejudiced opinions, once we have exerted ourselves as human beings to experience thoughts in the form they themselves want to assume, we no longer regard ourselves as the creators and shapers of our thoughts, but merely as the inner scene of action where they live out their own nature. Then we feel the largeness of these sefless and unprejudiced thoughts that seem to be our own creations, and are surprised to find that they are worthy of depicting the divine; we discover afterwards that thoughts that take shape in our own hearts are worthy of depicting the divine. First, we discover the thought, and afterwards we find that the thought is nothing less than the Logos! While you were selflessly letting the thought form itself in you, your selflessness made it possible for a god to be the creator of that thought. Where the Oriental felt thought to be revelation and where the Greek found it proof of divine reality, we feel it to be living discovery: we have the thought, and afterwards it tells us that it was permitted to express divinity. That is our scientific ideal.

Here we stand, then, in the ongoing evolution of the human race, realizing what point we have reached in it. We know, as we look at the human head with the ears at the side, at the larynx and the distorted shoulder blades, that we must be able to do more than just contemplate them. If we succeed in transforming these shapes of nature, a single form emerges from a further development of the shoulder blades and a growing-together of the ears and larynx: a Luciferic form, composed of chest and head, wings, larynx and ears.

We reach the point of perceiving the artistic element in nature, the element that endows its forms with life, allowing a higher life of form to emerge than that found in nature itself.

But this also puts us in the position of being able to trace nature's own activity in the metamorphoses whereby it transforms the human being, and we are able to apply this same artistry in the pedagogical-didactic field. We bring this same creative artistry to pedagogical work with children, who are constantly changing. For we have learned it at hand of an art that we recognize to be the Logos-producing nature-beyond-nature. We learn it from springs that are more than springs, for they commune with the gods. We learn it from trees that are more than trees; for where the latter achieve only a stammering movement of their branches, the former disclose themselves to modern artistic fantasy in forms that point to the gods with gesturings of branch and crown. We learn it from the cosmos as we metamorphose its forms and re-shape them, as we tried to do in our Goetheanum. All these studies teach us how to work from day to day with children to help support the process that daily re-shapes, re-creates them. This enables us to bring artistry into the schooling of the human race, and the same holds true in other areas.

That is the light in which the three great ideals of humanity—the religious ideal, the artistic ideal, the scientific ideal—appear, re-enlivened, to the contemplating soul of the anthroposophist. The forms of the Goetheanum were intended to fill him with enthusiasm for experiencing these lofty ideals in their new aspect. Now we must quietly engrave them on our hearts. But they must be made a source of enthusiasm in us. As we acquire that enthusiasm and are lifted toward the divine in our experiencing of the three ideals, earth's highest ideal develops in us. The Gospel says, “Love thy neighbor as thyself, and God above all.” Another way of putting it is, “If one looks upon the divine in the light of the present day aspect of the three ideals, as a modern human being must, one learns to love the divine.” For one feels that one's humanness depends on devoting oneself with all the love at one's command to the three ideals. But then one feels oneself united with every other individual who is able to do likewise and offer up the same love. One learns to love the divine above all else, and, in loving God, to love one's neighbor as oneself. That keeps any hard feelings from developing.

That is what can unite and make a single entity of the separate members of the Society. That is the present need. We have had the experience of going through a phase in the Society in which anthroposophy was poured into separate channels, such as pedagogy and other practical concerns, into artistic activities, and so on. Now we need to pull together. We have first-rate Waldorf School teachers and other professionals. Everyone who is giving of his best at a special post needs to find a way to bring the sources of anthroposophical life to ever fresh flowing. That is what is needed now.

Since that is our need, since the leading anthroposophists need to prove their awareness of the present necessity of re-enlivening the Anthroposophical Society, we have arranged a meeting on these matters. It is to take place in Stuttgart in the next few days. Those who mean well by the Society should be cherishing the warmest hopes for what will come of that occasion. For only if the individuals present there can develop the right tone, a tone ringing with true, energetic enthusiasm for the three great love-engendering ideals, only if the energy and content of the words they speak guarantee this, can there be hope of the Anthroposophical Society achieving its goal. For what eventuates there will set the tone for the turn things will take in wider circles of the Society.

I will know, too, what my own course must be after seeing what comes of the Stuttgart conference. Great expectations hang on it. I ask all of you who cannot make the journey to Stuttgart to be with us in supporting thoughts. It is a momentous occasion that calls for participation and wholesomely based, energetic effort on behalf of the great ideals so essential to modern humanity. We are informed of them not by any arbitrary account set down by human hand, but in that script graven by the whole course of evolution, the whole import of man's earthly development, which declares itself to us every bit as plainly as does the sun to waking human beings.

Let us set about kindling this enthusiasm in our souls; then it will become deeds. And deeds are essential.

[My dear friends!]

As you know, my intention today is to discuss some of the experiences in Holland and England. As you know, the Dutch friends organized an Anthroposophical School of Spiritual Science this spring, which took place from April 7 to April 12. A large number of our lecturers were present. The topics were from a wide range of scientific fields. However, the main aim was to provide an insight into the extent to which the anthroposophical worldview is rooted in scientific life and the extent to which it must be taken seriously by today's scientific community. That was actually the task at hand. The fact was that although a large number of our Dutch anthroposophical friends were present at the lectures, we were essentially dealing with an audience that was still quite unfamiliar with anthroposophy, an audience recruited from the student body of the various Dutch colleges, and which, above all, mostly wanted to have something like a first acquaintance with anthroposophical ideas. This was particularly the case with this Dutch course, which is now the case with regard to anthroposophy in general: a large proportion of young people who are scientifically oriented regard anthroposophy as a matter of time. Of course, the circumstances of the present time are such that only very few of those who want to address this question muster the courage and inner strength to really get close enough to anthroposophy. But even if the effects in this direction are slight, it is still apparent on such occasions, when anthroposophy is seriously sought, as in this Dutch course, that a few individuals, especially among the younger contemporaries, are becoming aware that anthroposophy, in addition to the satisfaction it offers in religious and other respects, is thoroughly scientifically grounded. And we were also able to perceive this in Holland, that among the younger contemporaries who were present were those who, after completing the course, had the feeling that here we are dealing with a scientifically serious matter.

An extraordinarily lively discussion was provoked by the lecture by Dr. von Baravalle, who spoke in a very stimulating way about mathematics in the light of anthroposophy. The discussion that followed was interesting because one older lecturer and one younger student who took part in the discussion really did try to engage scientifically with what Dr. von Baravalle had presented, and in a very forceful way.

It is a satisfying fact that specific details, for example in thermodynamics in physics, can be discussed in an appropriate way based on anthroposophy. Of course, discussions also occur in other scientific fields; but the point of view that Dr. von Baravalle took is truly quite far removed from the points of view that are adopted in present-day thermodynamics; and one is accustomed that those who are firmly seated in their chairs and well established in the present as scientists, simply dismiss with a slight wave of the hand these things that are so far removed from what they are accustomed to thinking. That this can no longer be the case today, that one must at least consider the corrections of formulas that one is able to make to current science through the results of anthroposophy, is an extraordinarily satisfying result.

Unfortunately, with such short lecture courses as we still have to give, one is obliged, I would say, to pick out individual short chapters from large areas, and that therefore hardly anything else can be given through such courses but a very inadequate stimulus. But for the time being we have to be satisfied with that. It is not yet possible, given the circumstances of contemporary life, to give more than this.

My first task was to elucidate the position of anthroposophy in the spiritual life of the present day. I endeavored to show how the spiritual life of the present day has, after all, taken on a kind of scientific character in all directions. Even if this is denied, it is still found that scientific thinking asserts itself everywhere; only the peculiar phenomenon emerges that, on the one hand, scientific life is declared to be the only one with authority, while, on the other hand, one is forced to let certain other areas, such as art and religion, move away from science as far as possible. On the one hand, one wants scientific certainty. But with this scientific certainty, which one strives for, one cannot do anything in art; one cannot do anything with it in religious life. Therefore, one tries to base art, if possible, only on fantasy and entertainment, not on a deeper penetration into the secrets of the world and their reproduction, and to base religion not on knowledge but only on faith. It is therefore peculiar that on the one hand one seeks a panacea in science, and on the other hand, in order to save other areas of intellectual life, one tries to distance them from science as much as possible. This is something that must and does create deep divisions in the lives of serious people today. Today they remain unconscious in many ways, showing only their effects, but they are present and lead our civilized life into the abyss.

My initial task was to show this and to show the truly scientific character of anthroposophy. But then I tried to show how, in particular in the visual arts, when it is understood that it reveals the secrets of the world, there is something that really does create out of the ethereal life of beings, and only through this does it acquire its true content, and how a natural path can be created through the anthroposophical worldview into art.

Then I had to speak about the anthroposophical research method and individual anthroposophical results. These are things that you know well, and that I therefore only need to discuss in terms of the topic. And then I had to speak about anthroposophy and agnosticism. It is a topic that I discussed quite extensively last summer at the Stuttgart University course, at the Stuttgart Congress, actually. But in The Hague I had a reason to approach the subject from a different point of view. In Stuttgart I had approached the subject, agnosticism, that is, the view that one has limits to one's knowledge, which necessarily prevent man from really penetrating into the very foundations of existence with knowledge, with reference to the damage it does to the whole of human feeling and willing, how it paralyzes the powers of will, how it paralyzes artistic development, how it paralyzes religious depth, and so on. I had characterized agnosticism in Stuttgart as the bringer of cultural damage.

I had not set myself this task in The Hague, but I had set myself the task of clearly explaining the significance of current scientific knowledge. It leads to not transcending the sensory world, and instead to constructing all kinds of crazy theories about atoms, which in the very latest times have even led to the fact that now, everywhere in the feature pages of newspapers, it is reported to the more popular audience that reads things that Rutherford has succeeded in splitting atoms by a kind of cannonade! One always wonders what people actually imagine when they are presented with such articles, especially as laymen. No one gets any idea from such articles of what actually happened in the laboratory. Because if he did get an idea of that, he would just see what a grandiose nonsense it is, which is even going around the world in a popular way.

The newer natural sciences have not grown through these fantasies of the atomic world, but rather by adhering to the phenomena, the appearances, the facts that can be observed by the senses. But in doing so, it has necessarily come to agnosticism, because one can indeed trace the fact back to its archetypal phenomena, but one cannot thereby advance to the archetypes of the world. But by being driven in a justified way through phenomenalism to agnosticism, one is precisely compelled to seek paths to the archetypes of existence in another field. Take an older form of knowledge: people still saw spiritual entities in every spring, in every bush, everywhere. There was still spirituality in the whole environment. When you find spirituality in the whole environment, you also find moral impulses in the environment at the same time. Because we have come to phenomenalism and thus to agnosticism, we are surrounded only by nature, and if we still want to seek a moral worldview, we must look for the basis for it in moral intuition, as I have explained in my “Philosophy of Freedom”.

This means that agnosticism helps us to look first for purely spiritual impulses in the moral realm. Then, by first seeking the moral intuitions, we are driven further to those imaginations, inspirations and intuitions that otherwise arise for the world. And so agnosticism has this good side to it, that it deprives man of the possibility of finding the spirit outside through ordinary cognition. Thus, cognition must develop its own strength; it must become more active. We can no longer speak of some kind of given moral commandments. We must speak of moral intuitions. I have shown this in my “Philosophy of Freedom”. This is where the good side of agnosticism comes to the fore. And it is necessary to make it clear: a truly meaningful view of the world allows everything to appear from the most diverse points of view. One can just as well speak pro agnosticism as contra agnosticism. It is then always only a matter of what one says. And only by approaching the world from the most diverse points of view can one arrive at a real content of knowledge that is then useful for life.

Of course, it is an abomination for the philistines when one deals with agnosticism in its effect, in that it causes nothing but damage to civilization and culture, and then one looks at agnosticism from the other side, in that it - I would say - causes as a reaction that which is precisely the spiritual world view. For according to the commandments of philistinism, I don't know how many, one may have only one view of any given thing, and if one illuminates the different sides, if one does that at different times, then philistinism finds contradiction upon contradiction.

We can say that, according to the Dutch organizers, the lecture course in Holland, this university course, has nevertheless brought a satisfactory result for the anthroposophical movement. Of course, it is still difficult today to penetrate with anthroposophy, even to a very small extent, here or there. But we must be thoroughly satisfied with every small step that can be taken in this direction.

For me, the Dutch School of Spiritual Science was followed by a trip to England at the invitation of the “New Ideals in Education” committee, in order to give two lectures at the events that took place in Stratford for a week this year to mark Shakespeare's birthday.

The events in Stratford were a festival that was organized in honor of Shakespeare's birthday and in memory of Shakespeare. A wide range of speakers gave talks from Tuesday to Monday, and one could learn a lot from these lectures about what contemporary English intellectual life is like and what characterizes it.

It is not my job to speak critically about what has been organized during these days, I would just like to note that some things were quite remarkable. For example, an interesting lecture given by Miss Ashwell on Wednesday about drama and national life, in which she explained with great inner strength how difficult it is in England to muster enough enthusiasm to cultivate dramatic art in the right way. The dramatic arts are, to some extent, suffering from the fact that they have to be performed by individual troupes, which in turn have to take into account the tastes or lack of taste of the audience, so that real artistic development is extremely difficult. With a certain strong emotion, this was particularly expressed in Miss Hamilton's lecture on trends in modern drama next Thursday.

Now, that this already points to certain deeper things, is also evident from something else. Every evening we spent in Stratford, we went to the theater performance that was given in parallel by a special troupe. The first evening, which

“The Taming of the Shrew” showed the director on stage after the performance, and the director apologized for the lighting effects and other aspects of the production not being up to standard by saying: Yes, you just can't do everything the way you want to according to your artistic conscience, because we are actually in a movie theater. So one learned that the “Shakespeare Memorial Theater” had actually been converted into a movie theater in modern times, and only during these festivities had it been converted back into a theater!

We have read in the last few days that the Berlin State Opera has already started showing films, and we are well on the way to phasing out the dramatic arts in modern civilization and replacing them – how can one put it without offending people? – with cinematic inartistry. But even that will be taken amiss by some who are enthusiastic about the cinema. I believe that the cinema system shows just how many destructive elements there are in our present civilization.

Now, I had announced two lectures for this Stratford week, one lecture on drama in relation to education for Wednesday afternoon and one lecture on Shakespeare and the new ideals for Sunday afternoon. It is natural that when, as is the case in our college courses and as was also the case at this event, lectures follow one another in quick succession throughout the day, as in a timetable, it leads to difficulties when lectures like mine have to be translated and thus take up twice as much time. And so, of course, on Wednesday I could only say part of what I would have liked to say, since time was already up. I had the satisfaction of being given a kind of petition the next day, asking that I present what was missing on one of the following days in a subsequent lecture, and this lecture could then be given on Friday. Then I gave my lecture on Shakespeare and the new ideals on Sunday.

I organized the lectures for this Shakespeare event in such a way that they were thoroughly based on anthroposophy, although they were actually given in the style of a Shakespearean celebration. And so too in the examination of Shakespeare's drama, which has proved its mission in education in world history by simply showing itself to be historically pedagogical in the tremendous effect it has had on the education of Goethe. One need only recall that Goethe named the three personalities Linnaeus, the naturalist, Spinoza, the philosopher, and Shakespeare, the poet, as the ones who had the deepest influence on his life. But we must bear in mind how different these influences were. Linnaeus, despite having such a great influence on Goethe, actually only had the influence that Goethe opposed him, that he developed the opposite view. Spinoza only influenced Goethe to arrive at a certain mode of expression, but he never appropriated Spinoza's inner life. He only appropriated a kind of language through Spinoza, whereas through Shakespeare he really had a living impulse that continued to work in him. I then expanded on this in particular on Sunday in the lecture on Shakespeare and the new ideals, by pointing out what actually had such a strong effect on Goethe from Shakespeare. I characterized this in an objective way at first by saying: There are whole libraries about Shakespeare; if you put together the books that have been written about him, you could fill this wall with them just about “Hamlet” alone. But the influence of Shakespeare on Goethe can be explained by the fact that all that is written about Shakespeare in these books had no effect on Goethe; that something quite different had an effect that cannot be found in all these books; that one can leave all that out and must look for the matter in something quite different. Yes, I even said that one can take everything that Goethe himself said about Shakespeare – theoretically, intellectualized – and regard that as false; that not even what he himself said theoretically about Shakespeare is the actual impulse; he may have erred, and what he said about Hamlet can be refuted. What matters is something else. And actually the most significant expression that Goethe made in relation to Shakespeare is this: These are not poems, this is something like the omnipotent book of fate, open in front of you, where the storm winds of life turn the pages now and then. With this emotional thing that Goethe said about Shakespeare, the power with which Shakespeare worked in an educational way in Goethe is actually meant.

On the one hand, I was now able to take the path in the first two lectures to explain our educational principles, as you know them so well. On the other hand, however, I was also able to characterize the relationship to anthroposophy by linking Shakespeare to Goethe, Goethe to the Goetheanum, the Goetheanum to anthroposophy, and so it was a complete circle. So it was possible to bring to bear the spiritual life, as it develops as a Central European spiritual life on the one hand, as an anthroposophical spiritual life on the other, especially at such a Shakespeare festival.

It may also be said that it is fundamentally different what one feels when one has to represent anthroposophical being on the continent and when one has to represent it over in England. I had the two things in immediate succession: in Holland the School of Spiritual Science, in England something completely different. On the continent, there is now a strong and growing need to uncover the firm, secure scientific foundations of anthroposophy everywhere. As a result, the latest phase of our anthroposophical life has taken on a certain character, which can certainly lead to very popular presentations, as I am now doing in public lectures, but which must be adhered to in a certain sense. Such a need does not exist in England. On the other hand, there is a pronounced need there to be brought closer to the spiritual world in a more direct way. And so I tried to characterize, now from a deeper spiritual point of view, what it actually is that led to Goethe taking such an intense interest in Shakespeare, one that was meaningful for his entire life, and how Shakespeare was able to remain a driving impulse in Goethe until a very late age. For me, the decisive factor was that if you take Shakespeare's dramas, both tragedy and comedy, and really let them take effect on you, the figures all come to life. And if you now, equipped with imaginative and inspired knowledge, take what you experience with the living figures of Shakespeare's plays into the spiritual world, you experience something very peculiar: the figures continue to live. They do not do the same things that Shakespeare has them do on the physical plane; they do different things, but they live. So you can certainly take the characters out of a Shakespearean drama from the drama itself: on the astral plane, let us say, the characters do something different from what they do in “Othello” or in “The Taming of the Shrew” or the like. The whole thing can be transferred to the astral plane: the people do something completely different, but they act, they live, they are living beings over there.

With a Captain or the like – one has a hobbyhorse with Captain, the other with Sudermann, that is why I mention as many as possible and actually none at all – but with the others, who are less concerned with imagination than Shakespeare, who are more concerned with imitating something in life, it is quite different. You see, Shakespeare does not actually imitate life. You won't be able to point to real life when you have Shakespearean characters. He creates them. And how does he create them? By knowing that he is creating them for the stage. Shakespeare is a theater realist, he creates for the stage. He knows that the stage has only three sides. The newer playwrights, especially the naturalists, have always forgotten that the stage is open on one side, because they write their plays so that they would actually have to be closed on four sides. Otherwise – well, the audience could have a strange pleasure if the play were performed in a room closed on all sides. But Shakespeare knew that you can't bring characters imitated from life onto the stage. He knew it, just as a painter should know that he has to paint on a surface, not in space, and that he must therefore treat the colors so that the surface comes into consideration.

Shakespeare is not an imitator of life, Shakespeare is a creative spirit. But he reaches into what is available to him. That is how he created his living figures. That is how one can still look up to the astral plane, to the Devachan plane, into the whole spiritual world; the people there do something different than they do on the physical plane, but they live, they do something. If you take naturalistic poets into the spiritual world, the

figures become like wooden puppets. They are no longer alive, they cannot walk or stand, they cannot do anything, they are no longer alive.

What one experiences through spiritual contemplation, Goethe felt — this original life, this being brought forth from the spiritual world — in Shakespeare. And that is what makes Shakespeare's drama so significant for the age in which Shakespeare created it: it was indeed a continuation of the ancient mystery dramas, which I also spoke about in the lecture on Shakespeare and the new ideals on Sunday.

The entire lecture on Shakespeare and the new ideals had the following meaning. I said that one would expect me to now begin to enumerate these new ideals: first, second, third. One person enumerates three, another enumerates five, another seven. But I said: The world already has enough of that, because such new ideals are indeed being fabricated and developed everywhere. But it is not a matter of setting up such new ideals, as others also have them, or of developing others before the world today, but rather it is a matter of finding the real strength to achieve an ideal life. Many people today think up ideals, but the strength to live by ideals can only be found by becoming aware of how real spiritual life has worked, say, in older art, in the art that still emerged from the mysteries and that was ultimately effective in Shakespeare. Even if Shakespeare is still very much a theorist, we must recognize how this spiritual life has worked in the Shakespearean plays and how we can arrive at a new ideal by absorbing this impulse, by allowing meaning and understanding of the spiritual world to arise from our soul life. Whether or not we then formulate this in detail is up to us.

So in three lectures during this festival, I was able to develop just what can be said about anthroposophy, about Goethe, about Shakespeare and about education in this context.

During the event, a strangely interesting fact came to my attention. There was an exhibition that interested a large number of people very much: an exhibition of remarkable works of art that a Viennese professor - yes, how should I put it - produces in children from the ages of 8, 9, 10 up to sexual maturity. These children really paint in such a way that one is extraordinarily captivated when looking at the things with the understanding that many people today have for art. Individual scenes are painted with great perfection, street scenes with types of people – some say “criminal types”, such as are often found on the streets today – painted with great perfection. The children paint these pictures. They paint them, and then, when they reach puberty, in their 14th, 15th, 16th year, they lose their ability to paint. After that, they can no longer paint anything. And the professor — I can only say: He makes them able to do it! Today, one marvels at such a thing. What is it really? It is pedagogical nonsense of the worst kind.

Of course there are all kinds of subconscious and subconsciously acting forces that can be used to influence children in such a way that they arrive at such demonic paintings from the rhythmic system of their being, for there the lung and heart demon paints in the children. And one would actually only need to understand what I just said about human development in my Christmas course on education here last Christmas, then it would be a completely understandable phenomenon that such nonsense can be achieved; but one would also see that it is completely harmful.

Once again, we are dealing with only a single phenomenon. But these phenomena are very numerous today, and they can only be understood with an unbiased approach, if we really look at our pedagogy and didactics. Because then you realize that, as you know, the head system prevails in the child until the second dentition changes, and the rhythmic system prevails from the second dentition change until sexual maturity; but that the demonic, which possesses the child, has an effect in this rhythm – and that it is precisely in the child that what is called for here should be fought. And then people are amazed when the child reaches sexual maturity and can no longer draw anything. It is quite understandable that it can no longer draw anything if you do not teach it to draw itself, but if you cause the ahrimanic demon to draw!

How important it is to address the damage of our present civilization in an anthroposophical way is shown by such a heartbreaking example, which sensationally produces this admirable result of such a false education and does not even see what is important.

I am saying these things, of course, only because it is necessary to form a sound judgment within anthroposophical circles about what is present in our present-day civilization. I can say that I am extremely grateful to the committee “New Ideals in Education” for giving me the opportunity to speak about anthroposophy, Goetheanism, education and Shakespeare, and to say what I have tried to say in these three lectures. And I would like to say: It is indeed a guarantee that if we as human beings all over the world were to cultivate anthroposophy in the appropriate way, we could achieve many things that are very necessary for the reconstruction of our culture.

What has been achieved by the “New Ideals in Education” committee is connected to what has been achieved before and after by the activities of our anthroposophical friends in London. After the Dutch course ended on Wednesday, April 12, I gave my first lecture on Friday to anthroposophists and an invited audience in London on Knowledge and Initiation; then on Saturday the second lecture on the anthroposophical path to the knowledge of Christ, and a more intimate lecture on Sunday morning. In these lectures I tried to say what can be said in the present phase of our anthroposophical life, taking into account the way in which such things can be understood in England in particular.

On Sunday afternoon we were in the school in the London area, at the Kings Langley boarding school, which is run by the lady — Miss Cross — who was also here for the pedagogical Christmas course, and were able to see how a number of children are educated and taught in such a boarding school. It is extraordinarily interesting to see how, in this boarding school in particular, children are actually brought closer to life in a certain way, based on certain ideals of the present day. The forty to forty-five children who live in the boarding school have to do absolutely everything; there are no servants there. The children have to get up early, take care of the whole institution themselves, and also clean their boots and clothes. They have to make sure that the necessary eggs are available by raising the chickens, which they also take care of, and many other things that you can imagine. They clean everything themselves, they cook everything themselves, they take care of the garden. The vegetables that are served are first grown, harvested and cooked by them, and then they eat them. And so the child is really introduced to life in a very comprehensive way and learns a whole range of things.

The intention has now arisen here during the Christmas course at Miss Cross's to set up this boarding school in the sense of a Waldorf School, and this is considered to be a very serious plan. Mrs. Mackenzie, who was one of the main driving forces behind my invitation to this Shakespeare festival, is very much in favor of our school movement, based on anthroposophy, gaining a certain foothold in England, and the aim now is to form a committee to set up this school based on anthroposophy in line with our education.

This will be a very significant and important step forward. And with the kind of determination that characterizes these individuals, especially Miss Cross and Professor Mackenzie, it can be assumed that something like this can be achieved after overcoming many obstacles.

We all hope that the course I will be able to give in Oxford in August of this year will contribute to the further development of this plan, in which the few suggestions I was able to give in Stratford this time can be expanded in all directions.

In this way, eurythmy will also be shown to advantage, which could not be included this time, at least not in an official way. So it is hoped that all this will now be able to contribute well to the anthroposophical school movement in England.

Monday was the day we went to the Shakespeare festival. On Sunday I had the last lecture on Shakespeare there, and we returned to London on April 24, where I gave a lecture for our members in London that evening. That was essentially all there was to do and experience in England.

Thus, without doubt, a further step has been taken in the development of our anthroposophical life, which is particularly important because it has made it possible to carry anthroposophy across the borders that have unfortunately been created during the war catastrophe.

I would like to emphasize once more that I am extremely grateful, above all to our Dutch friends, who, after many weeks of selfless work, have brought about the Dutch School of Spiritual Science, which, with regard to everything concerning the organization of the course and also the arrangement of the details, meant an enormous amount of work on the part of the organizers. And I would like to emphasize that I am deeply grateful to our English friends for what they did on the one hand for my participation in the Stratford Week, and on the other hand for what I was able to do for Anthroposophy in London. And I am also grateful for what they have done for the inauguration of an anthroposophical school movement in England, which I believe has done something extraordinarily important for the anthroposophical movement.

I have often pointed out that an ancient wisdom present in mankind can be characterized by the fact that through this ancient wisdom, people were aware that they were citizens of the universe, not merely of the earth. Take a mental look at what is present in the consciousness of thinking humanity today and what is present in the consciousness of those who, from certain scientific backgrounds, reflect on the human being's place in the world. Both are actually the same. For just as the broad masses of people in primeval times on earth thought and felt what was taught in the mysteries, in the mysteries that were the centers of the surrounding culture and civilization, so today people in wide circles absorb what is taught and researched in the profane mysteries of the present, at the universities and colleges. Just as the mysteries of ancient times were related to the beliefs of the general population, so too are the universities of today related to the general public. What the ancient teachers in the mysteries believed about the relationship between man and the sun, between man and the zodiac, was naturally believed by the masses. What the professors of the universities and colleges say and do not say about the relationship between man and the sun, between man and the moon, is believed by the masses. The fact that the entire wisdom about man is exhausted by pointing out that man has gradually developed physically from his animal ancestors is a one-sided, a very, very one-sided truth; it does not exhaust the real facts. But modern people relate to their initiates, to the university professors, as the ancients related to their initiates in the mysteries. There is actually no particular psychological difference between these two relationships. It is just that the ancients knew: All that is in man is connected not only with what develops on earth, but with what is seen by the eye into the space of the stars. That which takes place in man, even physically, is connected with the activity of the sun and the other planets belonging to the solar system.

If you read my “Occult Science in Outline”, you will see that through that anthroposophically oriented spiritual science, which this “Occult Science” wants to serve, this consciousness of people is to be restored, that the human being not only has a relationship to the earth, but also to extra-terrestrial worlds. It is pointed out that our Earth itself is only a temporary embodiment of that which was there before in its essence as the Moon, as the Sun, as Saturn, and it is pointed out that the human being continues to develop and that these further developmental forms of the human being will be connected with future developmental forms of the Earth planet, with Jupiter, Venus, Vulcan. Thus that which belongs to man is raised up out of the merely earthly. Man's gaze is again directed from the earth to the Cosmos. This is one of the facts which humanity must again become aware of if it is not to degenerate on earth: that man belongs to the Cosmos, that man is connected in his inner being with extra-earthly spheres.

Why is this knowledge necessary? It must be known because self-knowledge is necessary; not the self-knowledge that consists of brooding over one's own dear self, but the knowledge of man as a universal being. This self-knowledge must spread; it must become general and ever more general. For without a grasp of the human being, there will be no support for him, especially no psychological support in the future of human development. But it cannot be a matter of merely brooding a little over the subordinate, chaotic human being; rather, it must be a matter of concretely surveying this inner human being in his structure, just as one does not characterize the outer nature merely by saying: nature, nature, nature! but by pointing out: there are plants, there are animals, and distinguishing the individual species and varieties within the individual plants. In the same way, within the soul of man, one must distinguish above all the individual metamorphoses of this soul life. Now let us characterize these individual metamorphoses of the soul life, I would say, the one side of it. First, there is the metamorphosis of our soul life that is most closely connected with our physical body, that is most dependent on our physical body. It is the soul faculty that we denote by the term memory or the ability to remember. Through memory, we are able to renew the experiences of our individual life. Through memory we are able to draw a thread from a certain moment, which lies two, three, four years or even longer after birth, to the phenomena of the respective present moment, and man would be inwardly ill if this thread were to be torn. I have already explained this several times. If we had to look back on a part of our lives in such a way that we would lose the memory of certain events, the context of our experiences would not be there. And that would mean that we would be ill in our sense of self. But on the other hand, a person will at least be able to know how strongly memory is connected to his physical constitution. One need only remember the fact, which I have often mentioned and which is actually widely known, that when we suffer from insomnia or when we are prevented from sleeping properly by external events, our memory suffers. This and much else that can occur in cases of illness proves how memory depends on the physical constitution.

What we call our intelligence is less dependent on this bodily constitution, and thus more independent of it. However, this intelligence is still very much dependent on the bodily constitution. After all, memory only relates to the individual. We have intelligence in common with other people, at least to a high degree. Of course, one person is more intelligent, the other less so; each usually considers himself the most intelligent; but in general one can say: the fact is that one person is more intelligent, the other less so. But a certain uniformity of human intelligence is emerging. While everyone has their own memory content that no one else can see into, and while this memory content is very individual, the content of intelligence is something more common to humanity. It is simply less bound to the physical constitution of the human being. The physical constitution of the human being is actually only like a mirror to what unfolds as intellectual processes. Anyone who claims that the processes in the human nervous system, in the brain, cause thoughts, is saying no more than someone standing in front of a mirror and saying to themselves, “Miss Scholl, Miss Laval, Dr. Grosheintz,” and saying, “The mirror has produced Miss Scholl, Miss Laval, Dr. Grosheintz.” Just as the mirror relates to the images of the three named individuals, and just as the three named individuals are also outside the mirror and actually have nothing to do with it other than being reflected by the mirror, so too does the intellect have to do with the brain only insofar as it is reflected for our consciousness by the brain; but the processes of the intellect itself are outside the brain. We would know nothing of the processes of the senses if we had no brain. The processes of intelligence would not be reflected in our brain. But these intelligent processes themselves are a being outside the brain, which is only mirrored by the brain.

And then we come to the third faculty of the human being, which is at least to a large extent most independent of our bodily constitution. But people believe it least of all, because they consider it to be most dependent on our bodily constitution. This is the activity of the senses. Take the eye. The eye itself as such has nothing to do with the processes that are the visual processes. The visual processes are much less bound to the tool of the eye than the intelligent processes are to the tool of the brain. What the eye has to do with seeing is something quite different. The processes that occur in our consciousness as the content of seeing have nothing to do with the eye. What happens in the eye merely causes us to be present with our consciousness, with our ego, during the visual processes. Please note this fundamental, but not easily grasped, difference.

Take, for example, a person who has lost both eyes due to some disease. He has not lost the visual process as such, but he has lost the perception of what the visual process is through his ego. His ego knows nothing about it. The ego knows nothing of what the visual process is. It is simply the ego that is excluded from the visual process. What happens can be compared to the following.

Suppose you have three telegraph stations, A, B, C; at each telegraph station you have a telegraph operator. When the man at A telegraphs to €, the man at € can read what is being telegraphed from A to C. There is no question of the Morse apparatus at A producing the content of the telegram. It is only the mediator. The Morse telegraph in C cannot read either, but it mediates. But if apparatus B is switched on in the A-C path, then the man operating B can sit down and listen or read along; he only needs to let the stripe run so he can read along. B is then switched on in the path of the current that conveys the contents of the telegraph. But the content that goes from A to C has nothing to do with the processes that take place in the Morse telegraph at B. They are only perceived because the device is switched on.

Of course, if the apparatus is not switched on, one cannot perceive the processes. It is the same with the human eye. What is going on in the eye has nothing to do with seeing in terms of inner truth. The eye is only switched on to the processes. And because the eye is switched on to the processes, the I can watch the processes of seeing. But the eye is not at all what actually conveys or brings about the content of the visual processes or does something with them. It is only the receiving apparatus for the I. One could say, without running the risk of being thought paradoxical, that the human brain, which today is equipped with a somewhat thick brain, finds the following paradoxical: Our sense organ of sight has nothing to do with seeing, but everything to do with the fact that our I knows about seeing. Sensory organs, as we have them today, that is, the higher sensory organs, are not there for seeing, but rather they are there so that the I can know about seeing. I would even like to write this sentence on the board: Higher sensory organs are not there to mediate sensory processes, but rather so that an I knows about sensory processes.

We have the three so-called higher soul activities: memory, intelligence, and sensory perception and activity. The I is involved in them; it is most strongly involved in the memory with its physical body, less strongly in the intelligence, and least strongly in the sensory activity.

What I have described to you now comes from the following. Memory was not always in man as it is today. It has developed. And what was at the basis of the development of memory was an essential activity of man during the last embodiment on earth, preceding our earth, the old moon time. At that time memory was a kind of unconscious, dream-like imagination. “Dream-like imagination was memory. The fact that our bodily organization on earth has become what it has become is the living dream-like imagination, of which the soul being of man was completely filled during the old moon time, has become what is now our memory.

During the old sun time, when we had no physical body at all as we have now, when we were still those beings that I have described in my “Occult Science”, our intelligence was dormant inspiration. This dormant inspiration then developed further and is now our intelligence. But during the old Saturn, our sensory activity was quite dull intuition. Again, you can find the more precise description in my “Occult Science”. And this dull intuition has developed into our present-day sensory activity.

Now one might ask: Why do people have such a hard time grasping such extraordinarily important truths? And if someone imparts them to them, why do they resist them so much? Yes, you see, there are reasons for this in the nature of things themselves. We have had a vague intuition during the old Saturn time. This has gradually developed further and further and has become our sensory activity. But actually today we can only prove that one sensory activity has developed relatively most perfectly from the disposition of the old Saturn sensory activity, and that is hearing. Hearing had its clearest disposition in the old Saturn sphere. Vision arose somewhat later — you can read about these things in my 'Occult Science' —, mainly during the time of the sun. But from this you can already see that, while the first foundation was laid on the old Saturn time in the form of a dull intuition, later on new sense faculties are constantly being added. On the Sun, new sensory abilities were added that are not yet as developed as those from Saturn. On the Moon, new sensory abilities were added again, and on Earth itself, again. On Earth, the sense of touch was added, which is actually the most imperfect of the senses. If we were to recognize the sense of touch purely, we would still describe it today as a dull intuition in the physical body, a low, dull intuition.

It is similar with the sense of smell. There is something extraordinarily peculiar about it. I would recommend to those of you who like to do such things: pick up a psychology or physiology, especially a psychology, a soul science, as they are written today; they all write about sensory activity. What is written there about the activity of the senses — for the unprejudiced person it applies only to the sense of touch. You may remember what I said in my “Theosophy” about the relationship of the higher senses to the sense of touch, which Goethe also noted. Our learned gentlemen want to describe the senses, but they only describe that part of the senses that has arisen directly on the earth, that has received its first impulse on the earth. This applies, for example, to seeing, as when you strike your fist on the eye, you could almost say literally. Because what is described in the psychology is not seeing, but what is described would arise if you punched yourself in the eye; hence the nice theory that has emerged of the so-called specific sensory energies, which in the case of the eye does not come from seeing, but from the fact that when you strike the eye, you see all kinds of sparks. These learned gentlemen describe something that works like a fist to the eye, quite literally. And they want to understand vision through this.

One understands the activity of the senses only when one regards it in connection with what is no longer there at all: Saturn development, sun development, moon development. One understands human intelligence only when one regards it in connection with that which is no longer there at all: the development of the sun, the moon. One understands memory only when one regards it in connection with that which is no longer there at all: the old development of the moon. And from the earth, one only understands the appropriation of sensory activity, of intelligence, of memory by the I, because the I has only been incorporated into the human being during the time on earth. And the organs that have been formed in the human being during the time on earth are not there at all to convey his higher soul abilities, but to convey that these higher soul abilities reveal themselves in an I. We have eyes for an ego, ears for an ego, a nose for an ego, not a nose for smelling, which would be most correct, because it has been formed during the time on earth; but it is also no longer quite correct, because it will change during the time on earth. But we don't have eyes to see and ears to hear; we have ears so that a self can know something of what is going on in the ear, like a Morse telegraph is switched on here so that someone, not the Morse telegraph itself, can know something of what is being negotiated between A and C. By still saying today that we have eyes to see and ears to hear, and by clothing everything in this kind of language, we are talking about something that has no reality at all. We talk constantly in illusions, we talk in untruths. We do not know what we actually have our whole physical organization for. We do not have it to mediate the higher soul activities, but we have it so that the I can learn something from these higher soul activities. Our whole physical being is an image of the I. And we are constituted as we are because we are an I. In our outer form we are meant to become aware of the outer image of the I. For our body, as we now carry it, we have only received through the earth. And it is unthinkable that what the earth has not given us should be derived from the events of the earth, that the cause of it should be sought in the events of the earth.

Just as we have been able to point out that for our memory activity the old moon development is the decisive factor, because the predispositions were formed in it, and we have been able to point out that for our intelligence the old sun development is the decisive factor, because the first predispositions were formed there, and so on to Saturn activity, we must also point out that these higher soul abilities have something to do today with the beings of the higher hierarchies, and in such a way that our memory activity has something to do with the hierarchy of the Angeloi, our intelligence with the Archangeloi, our sensory activity with the Archai.

And this brings me to an important chapter of spiritual knowledge. Suppose you reflect on memory, on the ability to remember, in human self-knowledge. You say: I turn my inner organ, my soul organ, to the ability to remember. But when you look at it with full consciousness, you have to look at it in such a way that you say to yourself: In this whole activity, in this process of remembering, the Angelos lives and weaves within. Now try to remember something that happened to you yesterday, any event. You have allowed an inner soul process to unfold. In what is unfolding, and in that a yesterday's thought arises in you, a yesterday's experience reveals itself anew to you in memory, an angel is at work in it. And when you reflect intelligently - however, it must be intelligently, that is, with inner activity, not a mere brooding, not what most people call intelligent thinking, which is only the boiling of memories, where people let the memories boil out of their bodies, thinking only begins when one actively grasps the thoughts inwardly - when one develops an inner activity, then an archangel is present. And if you listen and look around, you must say: in my ears, in my eyes, there are the thrones of the archai, the spirits of time. If you ask yourself: where are the spirits of time, the archai, which rule the successive world ages of the earth? Then you should not look for them in completely unknown areas, you should look for them in the sensory organs of people. That is where they are. A decadent time, in terms of the abilities of the soul, sought the gods up there above the blue, which does not actually exist. If man asks: Where then are the spirits of time? — they sit in his eyes, in his ears, there they have their thrones.

This is illuminated from another side, which I once made clear to you by pointing out that in man himself are the localities from which the events of nature are controlled. If you have the formulas recited in certain secret societies and interpret them correctly, you will find that these formulas, handed down from very ancient times, point to truths such as the ones I have now developed before you; that man is the temple for the gods that stand above him, that is, for the beings of the higher hierarchies. He is so in the most literal sense. For if one asks: Where do the Angeloi, Archangeloi, Archai dwell? - I must say: In the organs of human memory, human intelligence and human sensory activity. Man is, if you speak in a real language, you have to say that, really spirit-filled, that is, filled with spirits. The Church did not want people to realize that, so at the Eighth Ecumenical Council in 869 she forbade knowing or believing anything about the spiritual; she established the dogma that man consists only of body and soul. This human being is a very, very complicated creature, and if, let us say, for example, one were to stand on a distant star and observe the processes of the earth from a different point of view, the mineral kingdom would immediately disappear; it would only appear as a luminous shine. Little of the plant kingdom would be perceived, and not much of the animal kingdom either. From the outside, the individual human beings would not be perceived, but the thrones in the universe would be there and occupied by the angels, archangels and archai. And a being with the necessary ability to see from a distant star would say: The Earth is a body in space that is the dwelling place of archai, archangels and angels. In the language of the gods, this would mean that the earth is the dwelling place of the spirits of time, archangels and angels. In the everyday language of people, this means: Man has sense organs, tools of intelligence and a memory constitution. But humanity is called upon to really get to know man, to seek out the real relationship of this man to the spiritual world.

The pendulum swing of civilization has been different up to now. People have studied the chemical substances that make up food in order to find out what a person absorbs through food. The relationships between the body and the matter of food and so on have been investigated. It has been said: What is out there in the various plants or in the various animals enters the human being; sometimes it is active outside in the cabbage, sometimes in the ox, sometimes it is active inside the human being and constitutes him. — So you see an ox outside, you look at it. Then you see a human being and know that he has eaten the beefsteak that was made from this ox, and you follow the part that the beefsteak that he has eaten, which was still active in the ox outside a number of days ago, plays in the inner workings of the human being; that is the relationship between the physical and the natural world. There one follows how the beefsteak, which was sitting in the ox's loins, is later inwardly active in man.

This has now been sufficiently pursued, and from it a world view has been brewed that has caused the pendulum of the human world view to swing to one side. Now the pendulum must swing to the other side. Now we must know that the soul of man is also related to the spiritual world, to spiritual substances. And what spiritual substances are, archangels, archai, angels, they are within man, as the ox is within man when he eats his beefsteak, in his body. Today's science admits the one, the other it still laughs. But for the further development of humanity, it is necessary that man knows just as much about his relationship to the angel as he knows today about his relationship to the ox or to cabbage – I mean the physical cabbage!

We are at this turning point in time, that there is indeed a need for the development of humanity to turn to what plays out of the spirit into the soul, after we have long enough directed our attention one-sidedly to what plays out of the physical world into the bodily side of man. For the human being who begins to develop today, it is no longer enough to convey certain religious truths to him in a dogmatic and abstract way, as in the confessions of the past. Today's human being has occupied himself with reflecting on the relationship between his earthly body and the spiritual. This earthly body initially only has a relationship to the ego. We will get to know other relationships tomorrow. But that which appears in our earthly body, the constitution for the ability to remember, is related to the hierarchy of the angels. That which is embedded in this earthly body as the constitution for intelligence has relationships to the world of the archangeloi. That which manifests itself in our higher senses, namely that which arises in our higher art, has a relationship to the world of the archai, the spirits of the age. We human beings must become capable of more than just generalizing about the existence of a spiritual world; we must become capable of sensing the concrete relationships between human beings and this spiritual world. We must become capable of sensing how that which echoes within us as hearing is a series of facts that permeate our world and in which the archai are active. We must become capable of grasping that while we are thinking, we dwell in a world that is permeated and permeates the archangeloi; while we are remembering, we dwell in a world that permeates and is permeated by the angeloi; and when we become aware of our self, for which we always most fully use our body, it is a revelation of our self. Only then are we in the world in which man lives and moves. In the Greek mysteries, they still said: If you approach the Guardian of the Threshold, you learn to recognize what is in man in a higher way. This side of the threshold, you only get to know thoughts that remind you of past experiences. On the other side of the threshold, you are surrounded by the beings of the world of the angels. On this side of the threshold one learns to recognize the intelligent being; on the other side of the threshold one perceives how the archangeloi surround one. On this side of the threshold one perceives the external sensory world; on the other side of the threshold one knows how, through our eyes and ears, the spirits of the times enter and leave.

It is necessary to ensure that this awareness is awakened in man, whether he is simply related to the spiritual world by his constitution. But this must be awakened in a concrete way for the individual organs. Man must learn to feel himself in a spiritual world, whereas the world view that has reached its climax today only makes him feel that he lives in a physical world. This feeling that one lives in a physical world would have to dominate man completely if the event of Golgotha had not occurred. That man can develop back to an awareness of his spiritual relationship is due to the mystery of Golgotha. But one must seek out of one's own free inner drive what one owes to the mystery of Golgotha. Christianity presupposes freedom.

What we can know about the relationship between human beings and the spiritual world can actually have a practical effect on us. And the educational principles we want to apply at the Stuttgart Waldorf School are based on the awareness that human beings are more than just a synthesis of external natural processes. Education and teaching should be such that we are aware that within us is not only the baby that is growing physically and that, when it is weaned, gradually absorbs cabbage and oxen, but that is the soul being, in which, little by little, the beings of the higher spiritual world have a share. And by teaching in an educational way, we guide the activity of the beings of the higher hierarchies into the developing child. Man should not just learn to kneel at the altar and pray for his selfishness; man should learn to make a service out of everything he does in the world. Today, it is an urgent task to convey to people that everything they do in the world must be a service to God. But those who do not want to let people partake in these higher tasks of humanity oppose this.

Yesterday, while I was in St. Gallen trying to develop the activity and fruitfulness that can flow from spiritual knowledge in relation to the field of education, I was told that we have now reached the point where the clerical newspapers in St. Gallen have not only not included a text note for this lecture, but have not even accepted an advertisement for it, thus refusing to include an advertisement for it. This opposition is becoming more and more well organized. They understand organization on their side. I only want to make you aware of the fact that resistance to the truth becoming established in the world will become more and more pronounced. I will gradually inform you of these things. I do not want you to remain unaware of this small fact either, so that you may feel that little by little it will not be a task for sleeping souls to stand up for the Christ-Truth, but that it will increasingly become a task for waking souls. Organizations are also needed to be able to deal with the organization on the other side. We will talk about this further tomorrow.

Yesterday we again discussed the connection of the human being with the past and the future from a certain point of view, based on what is revealed in the outer human form. We based our discussion on the threefold structure of the human organism, to which we have often have already pointed out; the head organism, which points to the past, the limb organism, which points to the future, and then the rhythmic organism, the lung and heart organism, which actually belongs to the present. Now, today, in order to be able to round off this whole complex of facts tomorrow, we want to look first at the other aspect of the human being, the more inward, the soul aspect.

Just as we can distinguish three elements in the physical body of the human being – the head, the rhythmic system and the limbs – we can also distinguish three elements in the soul. We can point to thinking or imagining, to feeling, to willing, and in a certain way we are dealing with this threefold structure in the soul in the same way as we are dealing with the other threefold structure in the physical. We can then conduct research into each of these three members in relation to the whole position of the human being in the cosmos. Here we shall first of all refer to the life of the imagination. This life of the imagination or of the thoughts, thinking, is undoubtedly that which works most decisively within the human being. The life of the imagination is that which, on the one hand, leads the human being out into the cosmos, but on the other hand also leads him into his inner being. Through the life of the imagination, the human being becomes acquainted with the phenomena in the wide circumference of the cosmos. He takes in everything that must be grasped as the source from which his head education emerges, as we saw yesterday. But on the other hand, the human being takes his thoughts and ideas into himself again, he stores them as memories. He builds his inner life according to these ideas. This life of ideas, this life of thoughts, is primarily bound to the human being's head; it has its organ in the head. And from this alone we can conclude to a certain extent that the fate of the life of the imagination is connected with the fate of the head. As the head refers us back to the past, so to speak, we introduce the spiritual and soul germ cells for the formation of the head through birth into physical existence, and this fact already indicates to us that we also bring the life of the imagination as such from our prenatal existence. But there are also other reasons for such an appropriate assessment of the life of the imagination. I would say that our life of the imagination is the most definite in our soul life. It is the most rounded in our soul life. It is also the one that contains elements that, in essence, are not connected with our individuality here in the physical world.

Take, for example, what we find within us as mathematical truths or perhaps also as the truth of logic. We cannot verify mathematical truths from external observation, but we have to develop the truth of the mathematical, the truth of the geometric, from within us. The truth lies within us, for example, the Pythagorean theorem, or that the three angles of a triangle are one hundred and eighty degrees. We can visualize such truths by drawing corresponding figures, but we do not prove them on the blackboard; rather, we form through inner contemplation that which mingles in our imagination as mathematics. And there are many other things that mingle with our imagination in this way. And we know of these mathematical truths only through the fact that we are human beings. Even if thousands, millions of people came and said, 'The Pythagorean theorem is not true', we would still know as individuals that it must be true, through inner contemplation. Where does something like this come from? It arises from the fact that we do not develop our life of imagination in the physical realm only through our life of feeling and will, but that we already carry it with us into our physical existence through our birth. What I have just said, and what, I might say, can be clearly seen from the human being through the actual observation of this being, expresses itself for the spiritual researcher in the following way. Let us assume that the person advances to so-called imaginative presentation. What does this imaginative soul life consist of? It consists of the fact that we live in images, but in images that are not conveyed to us by the outer senses. In ordinary outer life we perceive outer objects through our sense organs. They give us the images through the eyes and ears, and we combine these images through the thinking. In imaginative presentation it is different. There we have the images when we are prepared in the appropriate way, without external observation. They arise in us, I could say, but we do not stop thinking when we rise in the right way to the imaginative soul life. We think in inner images, as we otherwise think in outer images when we perceive external objects. But the first thing we experience when we develop imaginative powers, what we experience when we think, when we permeate our soul with thinking, but at the same time the life of images arises, the first thing is not something present. The first thing is that the images of life before our birth or before our conception arise before our soul. Present life only later, after a long period of familiarization, comes to us in a certain way through our imaginations, and by no means with such clarity and certainty as the life that lies before birth, before conception. This fact is full proof that, when we disregard the perception of objects, [when we live thinking in images], this thinking can initially only present us with images from the past. What these images present to us includes cosmic elements from our pre-earthly life. This and much more shows how the life of imagination is what we initially carry with us from our prenatal life as a force.

Self-observation, if it is conducted with sufficient impartiality, shows us that the emotional life develops gradually in the physical. We cannot permeate our feelings with that which is as determined as mathematics, like our perceptions. We must develop all our feelings from childhood, but we must develop them from the moment of our birth through our life. The more we have experienced since birth, the richer our emotional life. A person who has gone through severe suffering and hard blows of fate has a different emotional life than a superficial person who has breezed through life so easily. The blows of fate prepare us for the emotional life. A mathematical judgment that permeates our imagination suddenly occurs. We cannot suddenly develop a feeling. A feeling develops slowly in life and is itself something that grows with us, that participates in our entire growth process in physical life.

And the life of the will is something that initially connects us only slightly with the cosmos. It is what pulses out of the indeterminate depths of our soul. We do carry the life of the will into the cosmos through our deeds; but just consider the difference between being connected to the cosmos through the life of the imagination and the other connection through the life of the will. We are connected to the cosmos through the life of the imagination when we go out into the starry night and, as it were, have the cosmos in front of us in pictures, embrace it in thought. We can also feel it. How small, in comparison, is the little deed that we detach from our will element and place in the cosmos! This testifies, first of all, that the will element is rooted in the human being in a completely different way than the element of imagination. Compare the will element in particular with the element of imagination as with the feeling. The element of imagination, as soon as we have awakened enough to it, connects us with the whole cosmos in one fell swoop. The element of feeling, it lives itself up to it. It lives itself up to it as slowly or as quickly as our fateful life between birth and death unfolds. But it is something that connects us with the cosmos, albeit less intensely and also less extensively than the life of imagination. Consider how universally human it is to be connected to the cosmos through the life of imagination: three people go out in the starry night; they stand in one place, they all three have the same cosmic image around them, they all three see the same thing, and if they have learned to summarize this image with thoughts, all three of them will be able to have the same thing in their imagination in one fell swoop.

It is different with the emotional life. Let us take a person who has spent his life rather thoughtlessly, superficially, only occasionally exposing himself to the starry world at night; and let us compare what such a person feels when he steps out at night and sees the starry sky with what another person feels who one evening goes for a walk with someone he has not known very well until then, and who are brought into deep questions of fate and life, into a discussion that lasts for hours and continues until the stars go down. Let us assume that at a moment when the sky is shining wonderfully in the stars, the friends become close, and let us further assume that years later, after that friendship has taken on the most diverse forms, such a person sees the starry sky in just the same way. What feelings may arise in him in the echo of the experience of friendship! Feelings go out into the cosmos, but they go out in proportion to the life that has been lived since birth. Through the powers of imagination, thoughts go out into the cosmos because we are born as human beings and have brought something of the soul into our physical existence through birth. Through feeling, the inner soul life reaches out to the things of the cosmos, but only in accordance with what has taken place in this physical life itself.

If you try to come to terms with what I am suggesting here, you will be able to say to yourself: The life of imagination is brought into physical existence through birth; we develop the life of feeling between birth and death; but how little of that is present, which goes out into the cosmos from us through the deeds of our will impulses! How little flows out into the cosmos from our will impulses! Here we are dealing with something that appears primitive compared to feelings, and even more so compared to the life of ideas. The spiritual researcher can explain the reasons for this when he rises to intuition; there he reaches the will impulses. The moment he has raised himself to intuition through inner soul development, when everything else has been extinguished in his soul life, it is not the present life of action that stands before him, but something very strange. What stands before him as the first experience of intuition is not his deeds themselves, but everything that his deeds can offer him as fates, as seeds of fate for the future. Everything that appears to intuition as a first impression is future, everything that can become of us because we have gone through such a sum of deeds that we do not see ourselves, but whose seeds appear before our soul. From this it follows that the life of the will is what we carry over through death, what points to the future. So we can say schematically: if we stay with the physical, we have the head person, the rhythmic lung and heart person, the limb person. The head person points us to what we bring with us from the past. The rhythmic person points us to the present between birth and death. The limb person points us to the future; later on, in later life, we will develop a head. If we look at the soul, we have the life of thinking, which refers us to the past, the life of feeling, which refers us to the present, and the life of will, which refers us to the future.

Yesterday we saw that the head of man is connected with the peripheral, with the whole cosmos, and that the limb-man is connected with the earth. The same applies to the soul. The life of thinking is connected with the cosmos, the life of will with the earth, and the life of rhythm, the element of feeling, which mediates between the two, is precisely the balance between the two, between the heavenly and the earthly. We have also pointed out that since ancient times, out of instinctive knowledge of primal wisdom, that which works from the earth into the limbs of man, which is only mitigated by the cosmos and its effect, that this has been designated as strength. And that in man which finds expression in the formation of the head, which is cosmic, but tempered by earthly things, has been called beauty since ancient times, and the balance between the two, which lives in the rhythmic human being, is called wisdom. But the same terms were also applied to the life of the imagination, which, in the sense of the ancient mystery wisdom, is thought of as being permeated by the principle of beauty, the life of feeling as permeated by wisdom, and the life of the will as permeated by strength.

Now we can also look at the human spirit, as we have seen the physical body and the soul. There too we have a threefold spiritual being of man before us. Only we have to speak of three states in the case of the spirit. We can distinguish first of all what the spirit shows us, I would say, in its full radiance, when we are fully awake. We can observe the spirit in the other states when it dreams between waking and sleeping, and we can contemplate the spirit when it is unconscious in the deep sleep of earthly life. That is the threefold spirit: the waking, dreaming and sleeping.

Let us take waking life. Waking life is, as is indeed quite clear to the unbiased observer, the most mature life of the human being; it is the one that he carries with him into physical existence through his birth. Even if it does not appear so at first glance, it is nevertheless the most perfect, the most mature, the one that he has as a result of being born as a human being. So that we can say: the waking life refers us to the past; the life of dreams - it seems strange at first, of course, to say of the dream life that it refers us to the present, but it is so. At a certain age, you can observe very precisely how the life of dreams refers to the present. The child, the very young child, dreams, and does not yet have a full waking life. Only when the past enters into the child does the waking life begin. But the present is the life of dreams; and the fact that we get the waking state into the dream life comes from the fact that our past life, our past, extends into the present. The present only educates us for the dream life. And the sleep life, it is the one through which we do not yet belong to the present, which is related to our will life, which is the most imperfect in us, which must first become perfect; it is the one that models the future in us, that points to the future. Thus the spirit belongs to the past, the present and the future. The past through waking life, the present through dream life, the future through sleep life.

We can associate these three states, these three different levels of the human being with the past, the present and the future of the cosmos. We have already done this for the physical body yesterday. We said that the formation of the head is connected with what the earth has gone through in its previous states on Saturn, Sun and Moon. The man with the limbs testifies that something is developing in man that cannot yet be fully realized on earth. You found it amusing that I spoke to you about the state of Venus, where human development will take a completely different course than on Earth. On Venus, I told you, man will lose his head in the middle of the development of his life. Instead, another head will grow out of his limb-man, which in the present, I thought, could be very pleasant for some, but it cannot be the case. Here, because the limb-man has the tendency to become a head, but can only be one when he has gone through the state between death and new life outside of the earthly, one must be satisfied with the one head. But this human of the limbs points to what we become physically through the states of Jupiter, Venus and Vulcan. The head thus points to Saturn, the Sun and the Moon; the human of the limbs points to the future, to Jupiter, Venus and Vulcan. The rhythmic human points to the present of the earth.

The life of imagination does not take us as far back as the head. In a sense, the head had to be present in the cosmos first before it could imagine. It only points us to the sun and the moon. The life of will points us to the future, to Jupiter and Venus. And the life of feeling belongs to the present.

Now we come to the spiritual. Here we have waking life and sleeping life. The waking life points us only to the lunar evolution; there it has formed. The waking life is the inheritance of the old lunar evolution, of imaginative imagining of the lunar evolution. During the solar evolution there was not yet any actual life of imagination. The sleeping life points us to the Jupiter state. After the Jupiter state, that which moves in our sleep today will take on outer forms; after the Venus state, that which is a state of will will take on outer forms. And the limbs, that is already expressed, take on outer forms through the three following states of the earth. Thus we see that the human being can be assigned to the cosmos according to body, soul and spirit.

Moon, moon, moon, volcano. Again, in contrast to waking life, 'dream and sleep life is such that, in the sense of ancient wisdom, beauty is intended for waking life, wisdom for dream life. Strength is intended for sleep life. From sleep we carry strength out for life. Primordial wisdom has mainly been based on such things that arise from life contexts.

But now we can also apply to human life what we develop from spiritual science through the threefold human being. We can perhaps start with the spirit and ask ourselves: How does a person stand in their outer life if they want to survey their outer life with clear ideas? They can carry the life of ideas that is in their head into the outer world. Out of the waking state, he can permeate his outer life with imagination. This is a special way of being active in the outer world, of permeating it with the life of imagination. All that happens in this way belongs to the special sphere of spiritual life.

Let us now turn to the conditions that arise from the life that is, on the one hand, an emotional life of the soul, but in spirit a dream life; how does this dream life take shape? Yes, just study life, and you will sense the reign of dream life among people. I ask you to pay attention when you make friends, when you develop feelings of love between yourself and another person; don't you know that you cannot be awake in the same way as when you think through the Pythagorean theorem? If you examine the experiences correctly, you will have to say to yourself: The state you experience inwardly when you make friends with people, when you do this or that for someone out of affection, is truly comparable to the life of dreams. You find the life of dreams in those feelings that prevail from person to person in the outer life.

But this is also the life that we develop to the greatest extent in the legal life. There the human being is confronted with the human being. Here, in general, the relationship between human beings must be found. We find our particular, special relationships by loving one person and hating another, by making friends with one person and not being able to stand another, and so on. These are the specific relationships that arise in differentiated ways here and there. But human life on earth is only possible if all people can enter into certain relationships with everyone, which we can describe as political, as state, as legal. They are directed not by the same waking day-life that permeates life, but by the life of dreams. And we are dealing with the life of right-mindedness when the human being incorporates the second link, this dream-life, into the outer world.

And what happens when he incorporates the life of sleep? Observe life impartially: you are hungry, you delight in a golden ring with precious stones, you have a need for a volume of lyrical poetry, in short, you have needs of some kind. They are satisfied by others. But now I ask you: Can you overlook this, even as you overlook your friendships or legal relationships? No one can. The individual can live a dream life with regard to legal relationships; one cannot oversee economic relationships, so one must associate with others. What one person does not know, another may know. The consciousness of the individual disappears in the association. There is something that takes place entirely in the unconscious and can only happen because the individual cannot see it at all, but lets his consciousness submerge into that of the association. There we have economic life.

Intellectual life is dominated by social waking, legal life by social dreaming; in modern parliaments, it is dominated by the nightmare, which is also a form of dreaming. Economic life is permeated by social sleeping. And where the human soul life disappears into the unconscious, love must spread through associative life. Love, which is a volitional element, must permeate economic life. Freedom is the element of waking life, brotherhood the element of sleeping life in the social sphere. And what stands between the two is that in which all people are equal, what they develop as equals, into which one disappears with one's waking life, which is determined only by the relationship of one to the other, from the dream-like element of life.

Thus that which I would call what is in man flows into what is social life; and one cannot really understand social life other than by realizing what flows from each individual human being into this social life.

1. Intellectual life: social waking
2. Legal life: social dreaming
3. Economic life: social sleeping

Now we have grasped a human context from a certain point of view. We will develop it further tomorrow. But consider how these things actually reach people of the present day. It is so that the person of the present day can begin by reading my “Theosophy”. This is something that seems somewhat paradoxical in relation to what one has learned. At first one may not be very favorably disposed toward what is presented, but one can go further, read the other books and see how what is in Theosophy is further deepened. Then one will see that the one supports the other, that one is added to the other, that the things are well founded. Or one can look at the other side of the “key points”. You can start by saying: I cannot yet see why the social organism should be subject to a threefold order. Now add everything that we have already gathered from the most diverse points of view to show again and again how this social life really must be subject to a threefold order.

Think about how we come from the human being himself, from his spiritual and soul conditions, from this threefoldness of soul and spirit, to the threefoldness of the social organism. Again, one thing leads to another. And of course much more could be added to what has already been compiled here; the justification of the demand for the threefold social organism would be seen more and more. But compare the attitude of our contemporaries with what I have just said. How do they very often approach what this anthroposophical spiritual science wants to bring to them? I don't know how it is, and I don't want to tell it here as if it were very binding, but I was recently told that at a lecture given by Dr. Boos to Basel theologians – if it is different, he can correct it on occasion – he was able to ask the man who had attacked me most intensely whether he had already heard my lectures. He is supposed to have replied that he had heard one, maybe two. Well, that is just one example of many. People feel the urge to listen to a lecture or to glance at a book and read a few pages. But spiritual science and everything related to its social consequences cannot be judged from that alone, because spiritual science demands a completely different relationship to everything than what such people assert. Such people train those entrusted to them, without this spiritual science, as far as possible – and they train themselves without spiritual science, and then they come and take note in a concise way. It cannot be done like that. The only way is for spiritual science to truly permeate our entire education system and for that which is permeated by anthroposophy to take the place of what has become spiritless over the last few centuries. It is important that we pay attention to this, that we at least know for ourselves what is needed. We can never promote the development of spiritual science by means of pious appeals, even if it may happen here and there for this or that opportunistic reason, that someone is dragged along to a single lecture, because nothing will come of such an approach except that the person concerned will be deterred. Spiritual science must be practised in such a way that its path is paved into the entire educational system, into the entire life of the present. Of course, this is what makes the path of spiritual science difficult, but on the other hand it imposes on us the necessity and obligation to also use our whole being for this spiritual science, if we ourselves have grasped its nerve.

This commitment of the whole person has unfortunately not always been cultivated, especially in the Anthroposophical Society. We must always remember how people have sometimes been ashamed to profess themselves as Anthroposophists. We want to organize a lecture here or there, but the words “Theosophy” or “Anthroposophy” must not be mentioned; it must be only anthroposophical, but must not be called “anthroposophical”, or “anthroposophical movement” or “theosophy” and so on. We have also experienced with regard to eurythmy that people demand that it be introduced into the school, but it must not be said where it comes from. One wants to let something “flow in” from here or there. This letting in, this shying away from full commitment, does not help us to move forward. Instead, we are beset on all sides by things that are truly born of the spirit of the age and that are actually cultural impertinences. Mrs. Baumann, the Waldorf eurythmy teacher, recently wrote a very nice article for a Swiss women's magazine about eurythmy as a pedagogical tool. The essay was also printed; but when Anthroposophy or even my name was mentioned, the editorial staff had carefully crossed it out. These things testify that one can indeed use the spiritual material, but in the mendacious world of the present, one would like to have this spiritual material without the very forces that once had to carry this spiritual material according to the necessity of the present.

The Anthroposophical Society itself has achieved a great deal of this by allowing these forces to flow in, by shying away from fully embracing them. Those who approach this anthroposophical spiritual knowledge and see how the various aspects interlock with mathematical clarity should find courage and strength in the matter itself to stand up fully for this cause in the world. Humanity is truly not served when people shrink back from fully standing up for it, and this full standing up must first be learned by the opponents. They are fully committed, they are fully committed in terms of opposition! Time and again, we experience how every harsh word that has to be wrung from us is resented. Recently, I was resented for calling Count Keyserling what he is, for saying that he has lied! Anyone who says that I started with Haeckel need only read the remarks on Goethe's scientific writings to see what I started from, also in my writing, and he is lying when he says that I started from Haeckel because I once wrote a pamphlet about Haeckel in the course of my life. Such simpletons as Keyserling do not see the inner connections. These empty-headed people have a large public because you don't have to think when you give yourself over to them.

But it is necessary that we should at last realize that when sharp words are spoken on our part, they are spoken in the grip of necessity; that there is really no sympathy for these sharp words, but that one must not come and say that it is out of unkindness. Should one love those people who lie and thus block the way for the truth? And from this point of view things must be looked at. Those who think that we are too sharp in our polemics should not turn to us, but to the attackers. For if we vigorously turn against the attackers, it will help a little; but it will not help at all if we leave a few alone in the necessary defense.

Yesterday¹ I spoke about initiation science. Today² I shall describe some aspects of what nowadays gives expression to initiation science. A profound breach now runs through the whole of civilization, a breach which brings much chaos to the world and which people who are fully aware cannot but experience with a sense of tragedy. One expression of this breach is the fact that human beings, when considering human dignity and their worth as human beings, can no longer find any connection with a world to which they look up—that world which gives the human soul religious feelings both profound and uplifting—namely, the world of moral values.

People look instead to the world of nature, to which, of course, they also belong. During the course of recent centuries the world of nature has come to appear before the human soul in such a way that it has absorbed the whole of reality, has absorbed every aspect of actual existence. The world of nature, with its laws which are indifferent to moral values, runs its course in accordance with external necessity, and in their everyday life human beings, too, are tied up in this necessity. However the bounds of this necessity are defined, if human beings feel themselves enclosed within such bounds, it is impossible for them to discover what it is that makes them human. Human beings have to look up from the world of nature to the world of moral values. We have to see the content of this moral world as something which ought to be, something which is the ideal. Yet no knowledge which is current today is capable of showing us how moral ideals can flow into the laws of nature and how necessity can be made to serve moral values.

We have to admit that today's world is divided into two parts which, for modern consciousness, are incompatible: the moral world and the material world. People see birth and death as the boundaries which encompass the only existence recognized by present-day knowledge. On the other hand they have to look up to a world which lies above birth and death, a world which is eternally meaningful, unlike the endlessly changing material world; and they have to think of their soul life as being linked with the eternal meaning of that world of moral values. The Platonic view of the world, containing as it did the last remnants of orientalism, saw the external world perceptible to the senses as a semblance, an illusion, and the world of ideas as the true, real world. But for modern human beings, if they remain within the confines of present-day consciousness, this Platonic world view has no answers.

But now initiation science wants to enter once again into human civilization and show us that behind the world perceived by our senses there stands a spiritual world, a mighty world, powerful and real, a world of moral values to which we may turn. It is the task of initiation science to take away from natural existence the absolute reality it assumes for itself and to give reality back once more to the world of moral values. It can only do so by using means of expression different from those given by today's language, today's world of ideas and concepts.

The language of initiation science still seems strange, even illusory, to people today because they have no inkling that real forces stand behind the expressions used, nor that, whatever kind of speech is used—whether ordinary everyday speech or speech formation—language cannot give full and adequate expression to what is seen and perceived. What, after all, do the words ‘human being’ signify, when only the speech sounds are considered, compared with the abundant richness of spirit, soul and body of an actual human being standing before us! In just such a way in initiation science a spiritual world—behind the world of the senses—living in the world of moral values, storms and flows, working in manifold ways. This initiation science has to select all manner of ways of expressing what, despite everything, will be far richer in its manifestation than any possible means of expression.

Today I should like to speak about certain expressions of this kind with regard to man's immediate existence, expressions which have been discussed here in one connection or another over the last few days and which are well known to those of you who have concerned yourselves over a period of time with anthroposophical spiritual science.

It is both right and wrong to say that the true being of man is beyond understanding. It is right in a certain sense, but not in the sense frequently meant nowadays. Yet the true being of man is indeed revealed to initiation science in a way which defies direct definitions, descriptions or explanations. To make use of a comparison I might say that defining the being of man is like trying to draw a picture of the fulcrum of a beam. It cannot be drawn. You can draw the left-hand and the right-hand portions of the beam but not the fulcrum upon which it turns. The fulcrum is the point at which the right-hand and the left-hand portions of the beam begin. In a similar way the profoundest element of the human being cannot be encompassed by adequate concepts and ideas. But it can be grasped by endeavouring to look at deviations from the true human being. The being of man represents the state of balance poised between deviations that constantly want to go off in opposite directions. Human beings throughout their life are permanently beset by two dangers: deviation in one of two directions, the luciferic or the ahrimanic.³

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In ordinary life our state of balance is maintained because only a part of our total, our full being, is harnessed to our bodily form, and because it is not we who hold this bodily form in a state of balance within the world as a whole, but spiritual beings who stand behind us. Thus, in ordinary consciousness, we are on the whole unaware of the two dangers which can cause us to deviate from our state of balance towards one side or the other, towards the luciferic or the ahrimanic side. This is what is characteristic of initiation science. When we begin to comprehend the world in its true nature we feel as though we were standing on a high rock with one abyss on our right and another on our left. The abyss is ever-present, but in ordinary life we do not see this abyss, or rather these two abysses. To learn to know ourselves fully we have to perceive these abysses, or at least we have to learn about them. We are drawn in one direction towards Lucifer and in the other towards Ahriman. And the ahrimanic and the luciferic aspects can be characterized in relation to the body, the soul and the spirit.

Let us start from the point of view of man's physical being. This physical being, which the senses perceive as a unit, is in fact only seemingly so. Actually we are forever in tension between the forces which make us young and those which make us old, between the forces of birth and the forces of death. Not for a single moment throughout our life is only one of these forces present; always both are there.

When we are small, perhaps tiny, children, the youthful, luciferic forces predominate. But even then, deep down, are the ageing forces, the forces which eventually lead to the sclerosis of our body and, in the end, to death. It is necessary for both kinds of force to exist in the human body. Through the luciferic forces there is always a possibility of inclining towards, let me say, the phosphoric side, towards warmth. In the extreme situation of an illness this manifests in a fever, such as a pleuritic condition, a state of inflammation. This inclination towards fever and inflammation is ever-present and is only held in check or in balance by those other forces which want to lead towards solidified, sclerotic, mineral states. The nature of the human being arises from the state of balance between these two polar-opposite forces.

Valid sciences of human physiology and biology will only be possible when the whole human body and each of its separate organs, such as heart, lungs, liver, are seen to encompass polar opposites which incline them on the one hand towards dissolution into warmth and, on the other hand, towards consolidation into the mineral state. The way the organs function will only be properly understood once the whole human being, as well as each separate organ, are seen in this light. The science of human health and sickness will only find a footing on healthy ground once these polarities in the physical human being are able to be seen everywhere. Then it will be known, for instance, that at the change of teeth, around the seventh year, ahrimanic forces are setting to work in the head region; or that when the physical body starts to develop towards the warmth pole at puberty, this means that luciferic forces are at work; that in the rhythmical nature of the human being there are constant swings of the pendulum, physically too, between the luciferic and the ahrimanic aspect. Until we learn to speak thus, without any superstition, but with scientific exactness, about the luciferic and ahrimanic influences upon human nature—just as today we speak without superstition or mysticism about positive and negative magnetism, about positive and negative electricity, about light and darkness—we shall not be in a position to gain knowledge of the human being which can stand up to the abstract knowledge of inorganic nature that we have achieved during the course of recent centuries.

In an abstract way many people already speak about all kinds of polarities in the human being. Mystical, nebulous publications discuss all kinds of positive and negative influences in man. They shy away from ascending to a much more concrete, more spiritual, but spiritually entirely concrete plane, and so they speak in a manner about the human being's positive and negative polarities which is just as abstract as that in which they discuss polarities in inorganic nature. Real knowledge of the human being can only come about if we rise above the poverty-stricken concepts of positive and negative, the poverty-stricken concepts of polarity as found in inorganic nature, and ascend to the meaningful concepts of luciferic and ahrimanic influences in man.

Turning now to the soul element, in a higher sense the second element of man's being, we find the ahrimanic influence at work in everything that drives the soul towards purely intellectual rigid laws. Our natural science today is almost totally ahrimanic. As we develop towards ahrimanic soul elements, we discard anything that might fill our concepts and ideas with warmth. We submit only to whatever makes concepts and ideas ice-cold and dry as dust. So we feel especially satisfied in today's scientific thinking when we are ahrimanic, when we handle dry, cold concepts, when we can make every explanation of the world conform to the pattern we have established for inorganic, lifeless nature. Also, when we imbue our soul with moral issues, the ahrimanic influence is found in everything that tends towards what is pedantic, stiff, philistine on the one hand; but also in what tends towards freedom, towards independence, towards everything that strives to extract the fruits of material existence from this material existence and wants to become perfect by filling material existence.

Both ahrimanic and luciferic influences nearly always display two sides. In the ahrimanic direction, one of these—the pedantic, the philistine, the one-sidedly intellectual aspect—leads us astray. But on the other side there is also something that lies in mankind's necessary line of evolution, something which develops a will for freedom, a will to make use of material existence, to free the human being and so on.

The luciferic influence in the human soul is found in everything that makes us desire to fly upwards out of ourselves. This can create nebulous, mystical attitudes which lead us to regions where any thought of the material world seems ignoble and inferior. Thus we are led astray, misled into despising material existence entirely and into wanting instead to indulge in whatever lies above the material world, into wanting wings on which to soar above earthly existence, at least in our soul. This is how the luciferic aspect works on our soul. To the ahrimanic aspect of dull, dry, cold science is added a sultry mysticism of the kind that in religions leads to an ascetic disdain for the earth, and so on.

This description of the ahrimanic and luciferic aspects of soul life shows us that the human soul, too, has to find a balance between polar opposites. Like the ahrimanic, the luciferic aspect also reveals possibilities for deviation and, at the same time, possibilities for the necessary further evolution of the proper being of man. The deviation is a blurred, hazy, nebulous mysticism that allows any clear concepts to flutter away into an indeterminate, misty flickering of clarity and obscurity with the purpose of leading us up and away from ourselves. On the other hand, a luciferic influence which is entirely justifiable, and is indeed a part of mankind's necessary progress, is made manifest when we fill material existence with today's genuine life principles, not in order to make exhaustive use of the impulses of this material existence—as is the case with ahrimanic influences—but in order to paralyse material existence into becoming a semblance which can then be used in order to describe a super-sensible realm, in order to describe something that is spiritually real, and yet—in this spiritual reality—cannot also be real in the world of the senses merely through natural existence.

Luciferic forces endow human beings with the possibility of expressing the spirit in the semblance of sense-perceptible existence. It is for this that all art and all beauty are striving. Lucifer is the guardian of beauty and art. So in seeking the right balance between luciferic and ahrimanic influences we may allow art—Lucifer—in the form of beauty, to work upon this balance. There is no question of saying that human beings must guard against ahrimanic and luciferic influences. What matters is for human beings to find the right attitude towards ahrimanic and luciferic influences, maintaining always a balance between the two. Provided this balance is maintained, luciferic influences may be permitted to shine into life in the form of beauty, in the form of art. Thus something unreal is brought into life as if by magic, something which has been transformed into a semblance of reality by the effort of human beings themselves.

It is the endeavour of luciferic forces to bring into present-day life something that has long been overtaken by world existence, something that the laws of existence cannot allow to be real in present-day life. If human beings follow a course of cosmic conservation, if they want to bring into the present certain forms of existence which were right and proper in earlier times, then they fall in the wrong way under the influence of the luciferic aspect. If, for instance, they bring in a view of the world that lives only in vague pictures such as were justifiable in ancient cosmic ages, if they allow everything living in their soul to become blurred and mingled, they are giving themselves up in the wrong way to luciferic existence. But if they give to external existence a form which expresses something it could not express by its own laws alone—marble can only express the laws of the mineral world—if they force marble to express something it would never be able to express by means of its own natural forces, the result is the art of sculpture; then, something which cannot be a reality in a sense-perceptible situation of this kind, something unreal, is brought as if, by magic into real existence. This is what Lucifer is striving to achieve. He strives to lead human beings away from the reality in which they find themselves between birth and death into a reality which was indeed reality in earlier times but which cannot be genuine reality for the present day.

Now let us look at the spiritual aspect of the human being. We find that here, too, both luciferic and ahrimanic influences are called upon. In life here on earth the being of man expresses itself in the first instance in the alternating states of waking and sleeping. In the waking state the spiritual part of our being is fully given over to the material world. The following must be said in this connection: In sleep, from the moment of going to sleep to the moment of waking up, we find ourselves in a spirit-soul existence. On going to sleep we depart with our spirit-soul existence from our physical and etheric bodies, and on waking up we enter with our spirit and soul once again into our physical and etheric bodies. In sleep, you could say, we bear our state of soul-spirit within us; but on waking up we keep back our soul state almost entirely in the form of our soul life. Only with our spirit do we plunge fully into our body. So in the waking state in the present phase of human evolution we become with our spirit entirely body, we plunge into our body, at least to a very high degree. From the existence of our sleeping state we fall into that of our waking state. We are carried over from one state to the other. This is brought about by forces which we have to count among the ahrimanic forces.

Looking at the spiritual aspect of the human being, that is, at the alternation between waking and sleeping, which is what reveals our spiritual aspect in physical, earthly existence, we find that in waking up the ahrimanic element is most at work, while falling asleep is brought about chiefly by the luciferic element. From being entirely enveloped in our physical body, we are carried across into the free soul-spirit state. We are carried over into a state in which we no longer think in ahrimanic concepts but solely in pictures which dissolve sharp ahrimanic conceptual contours, allowing everything to interweave and become blurred. We are placed in a state in which to interweave in pictures is normal. In brief we can say: The ahrimanic element carries us, quite properly, from the sleeping to the waking state, and the luciferic element carries us, equally properly, from the waking state into the sleeping state.

Deviations occur when too little of the luciferic impulse is carried over into the waking state, making the ahrimanic impulse stronger than it should be in the waking state. If this happens, the ahrimanic impulse presses the human being down too strongly into his physical body, preventing him from remaining in the realm of the soul sentiments of good and evil, the realm of moral impulses. He is pushed down into the realm of emotions and passions. He is submerged in the life of animal instinct. His ego is made to enter too thoroughly into the bodily aspect.

Conversely, when the luciferic impulse works in an unjustified way in the human being it means that he carries too much of his waking life into his sleeping life. Dreams rise up in sleep which are too reminiscent of waking life. These work back into waking life and push it into an unhealthy kind of mysticism.

So you see, in every aspect of life a state of balance must be brought about in the human being by the two polarities, by the luciferic and the ahrimanic elements. Yet deviations an occur. As I have said, a proper physiology of the body, with a proper knowledge of health and sickness, will only be possible when we have learnt to find this polarity in every aspect of bodily life. Similarly, a valid psychology will only be possible when we are in a position to discover this polarity in the soul.

Nowadays, in the sciences that are regarded as psychology—the science of the soul—all sorts of chaotic things are said about thinking, feeling and willing. In the life of the soul thinking, feeling and willing also flow into one another. However pure our thoughts may be, as we link them together and take them apart we are using our will in our thoughts. And even in movements which are purely instinctive our thought impulses work into our will activity. Thinking, feeling and willing are nowhere separate in our soul life; everywhere they work into one another. If, as is the custom today, they are separated out, this is merely an abstract separation; to speak of thinking, feeling and willing is then merely to speak of three abstractions. Certainly we can distinguish between what we call thinking, feeling and willing, and as abstract concepts they may help us to build up our knowledge of what each one is; but this by no means gives us a true picture of reality.

We gain a true picture of reality only if we see feeling and willing in every thought, thinking and willing in every feeling and thinking and feeling in every act of will. In order to see—in place of that abstract thinking, feeling and willing—our concrete living and surging soul life, we must also picture to ourselves how our soul life is deflected to one polarity or the other—for instance, how it is deflected to the ahrimanic polarity and there lives in thoughts. However many will impulses there may be in these thoughts, if we learn to recognize, at a higher level of knowledge, the special characteristics of the ahrimanic element, then we can feel the polarity of thinking in the soul. And if we see the soul deflected in the other direction, towards the will, then—however much thought content there may be in this will activity—if we have grasped the luciferic nature of the will, we shall have understood the living nature of the will in our soul life. All abstractions, concepts, ideas in us must be transformed into living vision. This we will not achieve unless we resolve to ascend to a view of the luciferic and the ahrimanic elements.

As regards the life of mankind through history, too, the pictures we form are only real if we are capable of perceiving the working and surging of the luciferic and ahrimanic elements in the different periods of history. Let us look, for instance, at the period of history which starts with Augustine⁴ and reaches to the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of modern times, the fifteenth century. Let us look at this period and see how in external life people preferred to allow impulses to work which came from their deepest inner being, out of their emotional life; let us see how people during this period wanted to shape even the external life of society and the state in accordance with what they believed they could discern of the divine impulses within themselves. We feel quite clearly that the luciferic impulse was at work in this period of history.

Now go to more recent times and see how people turn and look outwards towards the mechanical and physical aspects of the world which can only be adequately comprehended in the right way by thinking and by contact with the external world. It is obvious that the ahrimanic element is at work in this period. Yet this must not tempt us to declare the period from Augustine to Galileo to be luciferic and the period from Galileo to the present time to be ahrimanic. This would in turn be an ahrimanic judgement, an intellectualistic interpretation. If we want to make the transition from an intellectualistic to a living interpretation, to a recognition of life as an experience in which we share, of which we are a part, then we shall have to express ourselves differently. We shall have to say: During the period from Augustine to Galileo, human beings had to resist the luciferic element in their striving for balance. And in more recent times human beings have to resist the ahrimanic element in their striving for balance.

We must understand ever more clearly that in our civilization as it progresses it is not a matter of whether we say one thing or another. What matters is being able to decide, in a given situation, whether one thing or another can be said. However true it may be to say, in an abstract way, that the Middle Ages were luciferic and more recent times ahrimanic, what matters is that this abstract truth bears no real impulse. The real impulse comes into play when we say: In the Middle Ages human beings maintained their uprightness by combating the luciferic element; in modern times they maintain their uprightness by combating the ahrimanic element. In an external, abstract sense something that is in reality no more than an empty phrase can be perfectly true. But as regards the particular situation of human existence in question, a thing that is real in our life of ideas can only be something that is actually inwardly present. What people today must avoid more than anything else is to fall into empty phrases. Again and again we come across situations in which people who believe themselves to be standing in anthroposophical life say: So-and-so said something which was in perfect agreement with Anthroposophy. We are not concerned with an outward agreement in words alone. What matters is the spirit, the living spirit, the living reality within which something stands. If we concern ourselves solely with the external, logical content of what people say today, we do not avoid the danger of the empty phrase.

In one circle or another recently I have a number of times given a striking example of how strangely certain statements, which are perfectly correct in themselves, appear when illuminated by a sense for reality. In 1884, in the German Reichstag, Bismarck made a remarkable statement when he felt threatened by the approach of social democracy.⁵ He wanted to dissuade the majority of the working population from following their radical social-democratic leaders, and this is what spurred him to say: Every individual has the right to work; grant to every individual the right to work, let the state find work for everybody, provide everybody with what they need in order to live—thus spoke the German Chancellor—when they are old and can no longer work, or when they are ill, and you will see that the broad masses of the workers will turn tail on the promises of their leaders. This is what Prince Bismarck said in the German Reichstag in 1884.

Curiously enough, if you go back almost a hundred years you find that another political figure said the same, almost verbatim: It is our human duty to grant every individual the right to work, to let the state find work for all, so long as they can work, and for the state to care for them when they are ill and can no longer work. In 1793 Robespierre⁶ wanted to incorporate this sentence in the democratic constitution. Is it not remarkable that in 1793 the revolutionary Robespierre and in 1884 Prince Bismarck—who certainly had no wish to be another Robespierre—said exactly the same thing. Two people can say exactly the same, yet it is not the same. Curiously, too, Bismarck referred in 1884 to the fact that every worker in the state of Prussia was guaranteed the right to work, since this was laid down in the Prussian constitution of 1794. So Bismarck not only says the same, but he says that what Robespierre demanded was laid down in the Prussian constitution. The real situation, however, was as follows: Bismarck only spoke those words because he felt the approach of a threat which arose from the very fact that what stood word for word in the Prussian constitution was actually not the case at all.

I quote this example not because it is political but because it is a striking demonstration of how two people can say the same thing, word for word, even though the reality in each case is the opposite. Thus I want to make you aware that it is time for us to enter upon an age when what matters, rather than the actual words, is our experience of reality. If we fail in this, then in the realm of spiritual life we shall fall into empty phrases which play such a major role in the spiritual life of today. And this transition from mere correctness of content to truth livingly experienced is to be brought about through the entry of initiation science into human civilization, initiation science which progresses from mere logical content to the experience of the spiritual world. Those who view correctly the external symptoms of historical development in the present and on into the near future will succeed, out of these symptoms, in achieving a feeling, a sense, for the justified and necessary entry of initiation science into world civilization. This is what I wanted to place before your souls today by way of a New Year's contemplation.

• 1 . See lecture of 31 December 1921 in Rudolf Steiner, The Rediscovery of Spiritual Reality in Nature and in Man. English text available in typescript only.
• 2 . Rudolf Steiner, Soul Economy and Waldorf Education, Rudolf Steiner Press London and Anthroposophic Press New York, 1986.
• 3 . Regarding luciferic and ahrimanic beings, see the chapter ‘Man and the Evolution of the World’ in Rudolf Steiner, Occult Science—An Outline, Rudolf Steiner Press, London 1979.
• 4 . Aurelius Augustinus 354-430, Bishop of Hippo in North Africa.
• 5 . in a speech on 9 May 1884, ‘I recognize unconditionally the right to work and will defend this so long as I occupy my present position. In doing so, I stand, not on the soil of socialism but on the soil of the Prussian constitution.’ Quoted in Gide and Rist Geschichte der volkswirt schaftlichen Lehrmeinungen, Jena 1921.
• 6 . Maximilien Francois Marie Isidore de Robespierre, 1758-1794. From 1793 a leading member of the Committee of Public Safety. Guillotined in 1794.

Yesterday I said that certain complexes of symptoms are condensed in the phenomena of falling asleep and awakening. It is most important first to study the symptoms that are condensed in the process of falling asleep. To fall asleep inadequately always indicates that the astral body is clinging to the physical and etheric organs, especially to the latter. (I will use these terms this time since you are now all quite familiar with them.) The astral body is too strongly bound up with these other members. This clinging of the astral body is at once evident to the spiritual investigator because, when sleep should appear, the physical and etheric organs continue to function as in the waking state, whereas in the normal person their function is clearly dampened down.

Ordinarily we cannot learn the real significance of this inadequate falling asleep; hence we must acquire a comprehensive view of the phenomena in the waking state that accompany this inadequate falling asleep. We then may notice that everything revealing an involuntary functioning of the organism is a concomitant of falling asleep inadequately. Thus any involuntary twitching of the lips or blinking of the eyelids, any excessive movement of the fingers and the like—any movement that is not an expression of an inner process, any fidgeting—all these are waking concomitants of not falling asleep properly. Obviously this process can be observed only when it manifests outwardly. When such fidgetiness occurs with regard to the internal organs, a certain capacity to perceive such things must be acquired so that one understands how to relate ertain phenomena.

For example, in patients suffering from anemia you may hear rushing sounds in the blood vessels on the right and left sides of the neck. These murmurs or bruits are noticeable in every person when he turns his head far to the left or right, therefore initiating a powerful unfolding of his astrality. Such an unfolding of astrality always arises when a movement that would normally be carried out voluntarily is carried out involuntarily. Whenever an otherwise voluntary movement—that is, a movement dependent on the ego—is made involuntarily, the astrality is too strongly exerted, too strongly engaged, is too strongly pressed into the organ. This is what we are dealing with in fidgety movements. Thus through such indirect observations, attention can be directed to the fidgetiness of the internal organs.

Now we must add that in patients who fall asleep inadequately there is always an underlying irregularity that cannot be countered by direct, outer methods. This irregularity is not closely connected with what I had to say yesterday about magnetic and electric fields, for example. Such things have very little to do with everything accompanying inadequate sleep. Thus in such cases it is necessary to make use of remedies. If we encounter a complex of symptoms that can be grouped together under the formula, “falling asleep inadequately,” we must apply remedies, and in particular plant substances in which processes must first be called forth by cooking, burning, etc. Such remedies will play a large role in cases of inadequate falling asleep, when the disease is in the human thoracic cavity, because there we always find an irregular clinging of the astral body to the organs. All remedies obtained by combustion, by reducing the substance to ashes, or extracted from the roots by boiling will be very valuable here. Everything that remains as force in root extracts and plant ash should play a very important part in such cases.

On the other hand, everything that I described yesterday will play a significant role in cases of inadequate awakening. To wake up inadequately always shows that the astral body enters too little into the organs. In diseases of the chest, this incomplete penetration by the astral body means something different from what it means in generalized diseases of the human organism. In the latter, one must try to bring in the entire astral body. This has to do with what I said about the effects of arsenic. Arsenic is effective when we have to treat an astral body already permeated by the ego, whereas when we want to treat the astral body alone, it will be especially important to apply the methods about which I spoke yesterday. In cases of inadequate awakening, we will always find something accompanying the waking process, what might be called numbness, a tendency to hold on to a dulled state of consciousness. Thus the symptoms that accompany inadequate awakening are essentially soul phenomena. Therefore it is particularly important in cases that show some defect or other in the chest organism—and at the same time the accompanying soul phenomena—to use the magnetic or electric fields curatively.

At this point I will try to answer a question put to me yesterday concerning the difference between treatment by direct current and by alternating current. (In the course of these lectures I will try to answer all your questions, so far as time permits.) In cases where one is treating a weakened individual—that is a person clearly suffering from malnutrition or the like—where the disturbance proceeds more from the lower portion of the middle human being, it is better to use an alternating current. If the disturbance clearly proceeds from the upper human being, it is better to use a direct current. However, the difference is not very great, and if you use one in one case and the other in another case you cannot make too great a mistake.

You will have noticed that in this realm of human health and illness dietary considerations can become quite important. This is because a subtle transition appears here from effects of a more dynamic kind, effects applied to the human being from outside, and those effects worked through by the human being himself in the transformation of plant substances. However, you will understand that because we are dealing with the region of rhythm, with phenomena based on the rhythmic functions in the human organism, there is no place for fanaticism in judging the healthy or diseased individual. There must really be no fanaticism of any kind in medical art—for example, fanatical adherence to an uncooked diet. A raw food diet also entails the exclusion of cooked plant substances obtained from the part of the plant lying toward the root, and this generally has definite consequences for the human organism: it slowly undermines the health of the respiratory system. A destructive influence on the human organism of this kind can continue for a long time, since it is not so easy to destroy this organism, but fanatical adherence to uncooked food will in time lead to shortness of breath or similar symptoms.

Someone may reply, “That may be true, but I have had excellent results with a fruit diet.” But you must then note that fruits are not roots; fruits have been worked upon strongly by outer sunlight. In them an extra-terrestrial process has been intensely brought to completion. One comes very close to the process of cooking when making use of what is dynamically present in fruits. Thus if you let certain patients eat fresh fruits rather than raw roots, you do much less harm. It is best not to be fanatical in either direction; both directions must be dealt with individually. There may well be cases in which it can be clearly determined that the irregularity in the chest system comes from the circulation and not from the respiratory rhythm; it can be proven that this problem derives from the circulation rather than the respiratory rhythm. Then it is necessary to pay attention to what plays into the circulation from the digestive activities. In such cases, what is lacking can be properly assisted by a diet of raw fruits. It is quite correct, in this individual case, a diet of raw fruits could be indicated. On the other hand, if I have a patient whose symptoms suggest that the cause of the inadequate functioning of his chest system is in the breathing, I will not be able to achieve anything by such means, and in fact I may only do harm. In this case I must instead prescribe a diet of boiled roots. In dealing with this very labile system we come to realize how serious the consequences of fanaticism can be in one direction or another.

In this first stage of our studies we must take into account one further thing in order to understand this system completely and not have to return to it. This is a process in the human organism that frequently escapes outer observation entirely and remains unnoticed to the detriment of human health. We should consider this here, in the first stage of our studies, this being the more pathological-therapeutic stage, whereas the next part should be more therapeutic-pathological in character.

In my more public lectures I have had occasion to speak on philology; I haven't had the opportunity to introduce this in the scientific courses, but it could equally well have been considered there. In the public lectures I said that the peculiar processes that come to more outward expression in the organism during puberty discharge themselves more inwardly during the time between birth and the change of teeth, when the child is learning to speak. These processes that occur between the astral body and the human etheric and physical bodies underlie the acquisition of speech and all the changes in the human organism connected with learning to speak. These processes should be carefully observed in the child as learning to speak runs parallel with changes in the rest of the organism. One ought to follow these changes backward toward birth, that is, from the radical change at the second dentition to the time of acquiring speech. However, in addition to the change of teeth there is an equally significant change, only it is more inward and does not express itself as obviously as the change of teeth or the acquisition of speech, which can be observed by anyone because they appear outwardly. This other change is almost more important than these in human health and illness, though they are given more attention because they are outwardly manifest. This other change is actually much more significant and occurs between the change of teeth and puberty. It is a process that lies midway between those events and is due to the fact that the ego—which, in the sense explained elsewhere, is completely born exoterically only around the twentieth year—is born inwardly in the same way that the astral body is born in the acquisition of speech. This process reaches its culmination between the ninth and tenth years of life.

Please consider now the following: What is latent in the human being regarding his ego, waiting to unfold, is almost entirely overlooked. The ego dwelling in the human organism really does something quite special. Everything else—the physical, the etheric, and also the astral in the human being, which only comes into contact from within with what is outside the human being by means of oxygen—all these components of the human entity are very strongly bound to the inner aspects of the human being. During sleep the ego takes only the astral with it out of the human organism. The astral body has a strong affinity for the physical, and especially for the etheric body. But this is not the case with the ego. It is here, taking into account the ego especially in its relation to the outer world, that the far-reaching difference between the human being and the animal is revealed.

In taking up nourishment we introduce substances from the outer world into ourselves. These must be transformed within us. What is it that brings about this fundamental transformation of outer substances? What brings this about? In truth, this is brought about by the ego. The ego alone is sufficiently powerful to stretch out its feelers, you could say, right into the forces of outer substances. To put it schematically, an outer substance possesses certain forces that must first be destroyed (dekombiniert) if they are to be re-constituted in the human organism. The etheric and astral bodies only walk around the substances, as it were; they have no power to penetrate to the inner aspect of the substances, so they just circumvent them. It is the ego alone that really has to do with the penetration of substances, with truly entering into the substance. If you introduce food substance into the human organism, it is at first inside the human being. But the ego overlaps the entire human organism and enters directly into the food substance. The inner forces of the food substance and the ego begin to interact. Here the outer world in regard to chemistry and physics and the inner world in regard to “anti-chemistry” and “anti-physics” overlap. This is the essential aspect.

Now in a child, this penetration of substances is regulated from the head until the change of teeth begins. The child is born in such a way that forces received by way of his head during embryonic development are then active in the human being in working through substances from within. But in the period between the change of teeth and puberty, which culminates between the ninth and tenth years, the ego that works from out of the lower human being, the lower ego, must meet the higher ego. In the child it is always the ego working from the upper man that works through the substances until the time indicated. Of course, I am referring to the instruments of the ego. The ego is indeed ultimately a unity. But the instruments of the ego, the polarity of the ego—that is the meeting of the lower ego with the higher—only establish a proper relationship in the way I have described. Thus the ego must enter the human organization at this time in the same way that the astral body must penetrate the human organization in learning to speak.

With all this in mind, observe the phenomena that can be seen in children from about the eighth or ninth to the twelfth or thirteenth year. Study from this viewpoint just those phenomena that it is so necessary to observe in children of elementary school age. You will find their outer expression in a seeking of the human organism for a harmony, a harmony that must be established during life between the substances taken in and the inner organization of the human being. Observe carefully how the head can be reluctant, at this time, to take in the inner forces of the substances, and how this comes to expression in headaches at about the ninth, tenth, or eleventh year. Observe further the accompanying metabolic disturbances in the secretion of gastric acid, for instance. Observe all this, and you will see that there are children who suffer continually from this inadequate adjustment of the ego from below and from above.

If such matters are carefully noted, one learns how to deal with them and as a rule they then disappear. They correct themselves gradually after puberty, when the astral body appears and makes good what the ego cannot do. They die away gradually between the fourteenth or fifteenth year and the twentieth or twenty-first year. Children who are sickly between the change of teeth and puberty can afterward become extraordinarily healthy. It is very instructive to observe this. You will often have found that sickly children, especially those whose illness is manifested outwardly in digestive ailments, in an irregular digestion, become quite healthy later if carefully treated. It is especially important in dealing with such cases to be extremely careful as to the diet prescribed. Splendid results can be achieved if the parents or teachers of such a child do not continually overload him with all kinds of food and with continuous persuasion to eat. That just makes the matter worse. Rather try to find out what the child can digest easily and give this frequently in small portions throughout the day. One can do these children a great service in this way. On the other hand, it is quite wrong to believe that anything is achieved by overfeeding.
In addition, we must take care that these children do not have too much school work, for this would only aggravate their condition. Thus if we allow them the necessary rest, we assist in this inwardly necessary digestive activity in response to smaller portions of food. There is hardly any area in which more transgressions are made than this one, in relation to which the above suggestions are made. If healthy human development in this direction is hindered, all sorts of tendencies to illness from this stage in life may remain throughout life.

People often complain that we give very little homework at the Waldorf School. We have good reason for this. A system of education corresponding to reality does not heed the abstract principles—or abstractions generally—applied in many spheres of life today. Instead it takes into account everything that has to do with the real development of the human being, and it is important, above all, not to burden children with homework. Homework is frequently the concealed cause of bad digestion. These things are not always manifested outwardly until later, but they nevertheless have their influence. It is remarkable that super-sensible study of the human being leads one to see an indication in an early stage of life of what is being prepared for a later period.

There is always a danger of the ego not being properly interlinked—if I may express it in this way—with the organism from below upward. This danger is really very great for almost all people, and especially for those in our time who are not of robust peasant stock. There is still a marked difference between those of peasant stock and the rest of the earth's population. One must draw a dividing line here. The rest of the population is very susceptible to the dangers arising when the ego is inadequately interlinked with the organism. The organism is then fundamentally ruined before the ego ought to insert itself. With regard to the respiratory system—also the head system—the female is more sensitive to the peculiarly labile equilibrium present there. The male is more robust regarding his chest organs, that is, less sensitive though not more stable. The same troubles can appear, but their outer expression is weaker. The female is more sensitive to the troubles arising there. What I have described as a seeking for the proper interlinking of the ego ends in a healthy human being or in anemia. Anemia (Bleichsucht) is a direct continuation of everything that happens abnormally in this way in the period from age seven onward. Anemia does not appear until later, but it is an intensified result of what was not observable in this direction in the preceding period of life.

In this regard, we must now point to an exceptionally important distinction. When we study the circulatory system, we must distinguish the actual circulation—which is a sum of movements—from the metabolism which is intimately interwoven with this circulation, inserting itself into it in a sense. In the circulatory system there is an equilibrium between the metabolic system and the rhythmic system, whereas in the respiratory organism we find the equilibrium between the rhythmic organism and the nerve-sense organism. Thus when you study this middle aspect of the human being, the chest system, you must realize that it is organized polarically in two directions. Through the breathing it is organized toward the head, and through the circulation it is organized toward the metabolic-limb system. Everything within the metabolism itself, or that is intimately connected with the metabolism in man's capacity for movement—which is of great importance especially during the first or ascending half of life—inserts itself as metabolic forces into the forces of circulation. This insertion upward from the metabolism must then advance a stage further.

Hence, in the process I have described we have to do with an advance, with a further stage of the activity developed by the ego in metabolism, already in the taking up of substances and then in laying hold of their inner forces. What we are dealing with here is a movement upward through the circulation and breathing into the head system, and all this must be properly coordinated in the period between the change of teeth and puberty. The egö s grasp of forces of outer substances must move upward through circulation and breathing to a proper intervention in the head system. It is a very complicated process we are dealing with here. We can really study this process by trying to grasp its influence within the “outer” digestive tract, where the substances are still quite similar to their outer states, where the substances are grasped only weakly by man's inner being. For what is the first stage in dealing with outer substances? What does the ego do when it first takes hold of outer substances?

The first activity of the ego in laying hold of the forces of outer substances is accompanied by sensations of taste. Tasting—that is, working through outer substances in a way that finds subjective expression in tasting—is the first stage of laying hold of the outer forces. It then proceeds further inward. But tasting also extends further inward. The “inner” digestive organism that lies on the other side of the intestines and transfers substances into the blood is still a tasting, but a tasting that grows ever weaker. It extends upward until, in the head organism, the tasting is opposed and thereby dampened down. The activity of the head in regard to tasting consists in the damping down of tasting, it opposes it. This process must take place properly. Then, of course, the ego lays hold of the substances as they proceed further; the ego grasps them more strongly than is the case in tasting, which is subjective and merely external. This process that takes place in the outer digestive tract is strongly influenced by mineral salts.

You will be able to harmonize every aspect of what I am now saying with what I said in the last course. You will see that what I am now saying is essentially bringing to completion what was said then. We have to ask ourselves, “What really is a remedy from the outer kingdoms of nature?” This is a fundamental question for medicine. What is a remedy?

Anything that the organism can digest in its healthy state is not a remedy. We can only speak of a remedy when we introduce into the organism something it cannot digest in a healthy state but is able to digest only in an abnormal condition, that is able to be digested, therefore, only in an abnormal human organism. We provoke the abnormal human organism to digest something that the healthy human organism does not digest. The healing process is a continuation of digestion, but a digestion carried step by step into the interior of the human organism.

Among the symptoms accompanying the condition seen in its most pronounced form in anemia we find these: fatigue, lassitude, and inadequate falling asleep and awakening. If all these symptoms appear, as can happen with most children during the period of development mentioned today, then it is necessary first to experiment with the outer digestive tract. There one must apply the mineral element, and yet not completely mineral. If you do this, you will obtain results. In the first place, these things could be observed through the symptoms that arise. For example, you may find that definite symptoms arise, all of which point to the need for the ego to take hold outwardly of the forces of outer substances. This process could be assisted by carbonate of iron. Ferrum carbonicum is a remedy that can act as a support for the weakness when the ego ought to be taking hold outwardly.

Let us go a stage further and consider an inadequate intervention of the ego within the circulatory organism. We will notice that this inadequate intervention of the ego in the circulatory organism can be supported by ferrous chloride (ferrum muriaticum)—that is, by a still more purely mineral remedy.

Let us go a stage further still, to what we encounter in the breathing organism. Here we can find special support for the ego through plant-acids. And if we go yet further, to the head system, we can support the ego by pure metals. These, of course, must not be used in their outer form as pure metals, for they then have no proper relation to the human organism. We must apply the finest forces of these metals. Last year I therefore said that the human organism does not allow itself to be treated with metals allopathically. The organism itself acts homeopathically; it breaks up the metals itself as they move from the digestive system to the head organism. The organism can, of course, be supported in this activity through potentization.

You will see, however, that we can learn from this something about potentization. (We will return to these things later from another viewpoint.) First one must form a mental picture of the real center of the deficiency. The deeper this center lies—the farther from the head organization—the lower the potency required. The nearer this center lies to the head organization, the higher the potency we must apply. Of course, what approaches the head organization can come to expression outwardly in all kinds of ways.

If you proceed properly from this viewpoint—that is, from the ego's laying hold of outer substances—you will be able to gain insight into the symptoms you encounter. This leads us back to what I have said today and have often emphasized elsewhere: that the human organism is not simply something we can draw with lines; that is only the solid part. The human organism in essence is organized fluid, organized air, organized warmth, and the ego has to intervene in these various members of the organization.

The ego's intervention in the warmth conditions of the body is especially subtle and important; it does this in the following way: When a person is born we have initially an imprint of the ego and this is present in the head. This imprint is active during childhood. In order to do this, the ego must offer its being [Sein] from below upward. It must intervene in this way. This finds expression in the ego-imprint, that we have in the head, permeates the organism with warmth during childhood. It has something to do with the human organism being suffused with warmth. But this warming follows a descending curve; it is strongest at birth, since it proceeds from the head, and then moves in a descending curve. As human beings we are compelled in later life to compensate from below upward for what unfolds there in the warmth curve. We have to maintain its proper level from below through the ego's intervention in these warmth conditions. We must later oppose the descending curve by this other ascending curve. The latter depends essentially on the ego laying hold of the ascending forces of substance gained in food and leading them over into the circulation, the breathing, and then into the head system.

Now imagine that this is not taking place in the right way, that the transference of the inner forces of the outer world's substances into the human organism is too weak, that it is not developed with sufficient intensity. Then insufficient warmth is introduced into the organism by way of the ego. The head, which is now only developing the descending curve, lets the body become cold. This occurs at first at the periphery. You should observe that those individuals who suffer from this further development of the condition of lassitude, due to all I have described, have cold hands and feet. This is palpable, for you can sense here how the process that was accomplished in childhood from above downward through the imprint of the ego is not being met in the necessary way by the active ego, by the ego that must be developed and that carries warmth right into the outermost periphery of the limbs.

This will show you that we have what you could call pictures in what manifests outwardly in this way; for as soon as you apply yourself to perceiving things pictorially, as soon as you take into account the interplay in the human being of the various forces above with the forces below—if you consider these so delicately that you arrive at a pictorial impression—you have pictures. In cold hands and feet you have pictures of something that is taking place in the entire human organism and appears in this way. One learns to make use of symptoms so that from them there springs forth a knowledge of the whole human being. If a person has cold hands and feet, it is a profound sign that the ego is not intervening properly in later stages of life. If we are attentive to such things, if only we enter into what spiritual science has to say out of its considerations, we gain a connection with the human organism. Otherwise we will see that through inattention we gradually lose touch with a real, penetrating insight into the human organism. If only we can enter into what spiritual science has to offer, we receive a connection with the human organism, we grow into it.

Consider the following, for instance: Spiritual science continually impresses upon us the fact that in mari s power to hold himself erect there lies something connected with the development of the ego from below upward. This power of holding himself erect is at first expressed only outwardly in a certain sense. It is supported by what streams from above downward. When the change of teeth is accomplished, when this force of erectness has done its work in the proper way, this elementary force of erectness comes to a full stop and now transfers its influence to the inside. Now the balance of the forces that work upward from below and downward from above must be created within.

Then the forces from above downward and from below upward appear in contrast. They meet each other. In this one-dimensional encounter, as you could call it, between forces from above and forces from below, one can see especially what is taking place in this period. Just observe what especially fatigues people with a tendency to anemia. They become most tired when they climb stairs, not when they walk on the horizontal. This points directly to the phenomena that we have been studying. People with a tendency to anemia will always complain about climbing stairs. Thus by looking at the symptoms, by observing what comes to living expression in a process of becoming, we can get a hold of what stands spiritually behind the human being. Then we can come to the point where we learn simply to read what needs to be done in response to these abnormal conditions from what we have gained through diagnostic pathology. We will take this further tomorrow.

My dear friends,

Today it is my object by giving you a few indications to bring these observations to a close for the time being.

It is indeed obvious that what we have sought for in the former course and in this one can only come out fully when we are in a position to extend our treatment of the subject further. Today I will have a few remarks to make on this phase of the matter, at the conclusion of the lecture.

Let me first give a general summary of what we have taken under consideration in connection with heat and the matter related to it. Out of the array of concepts you have got, I will draw your attention to certain ones. They are the following. When we bring before our eyes the realms of reality that we are able to distinguish in physics, we may list them as follows:

The solid realm, which was have called \(Z'\)
The fluid realm, which we have called \(Y'\)
The gaseous or aeriform world, denoted by \(X'\)
The realm of chemical effects, which we call \(Y\)

And lastly, by \(Z\) we have denoted the life activity realm (see Table at end.) Moreover, we considered yesterday very definite conditions obtaining in regard to the heat state when we pass from X to \(X'\) and from \(Y\) to \(Y'\). We tried for example to bring before you the facts which showed how chemical effects could make themselves felt in the fluid element. One who strives to comprehend chemical processes finds the following: Wherever chemical processes are taking place, wherever chemical combinations and chemical dissociations occur, all that has a certain relation to the fluid element must enter in its own particular way into the solid or gaseous realms in order for the chemical effects to manifest themselves there. Thus when we consider our terrestrial chemistry we must keep before our eyes an interpenetration, and with this interpenetration, a kind of mutual binding of chemical effects and the fluid realm. Our terrestrial chemistry presents to us, as it were, the fluid element animated by chemical effects.

But now, you will readily see that when we consider these various realms of reality it is impossible for us to think that this working of one realm in another is limited to the activity of heat in the gaseous realm. The other realms also work within each other. These call forth their appropriate effects in this or that field of action. We can indeed say the following: although chemical effects work primarily in the fluid medium since they have an inner relationship to is, we have also to visualize the working of the chemical on X′, that is to say a direct working on the chemical or gaseous or aeriform bodies. When I say “chemical effect” you must not think of that which comes to clear manifestation and is penetrated with an inner spirituality in the blue-violet portion of the spectrum. Here we have the chemical effect standing, as it were, by itself in a certain independence over against the material realm. When, however, we speak of chemical processes, we are really dealing with this effect as it interpenetrates physical bodies. We must conceive of something here in this chemical realm that, at the outset, has nothing to do with ponderable matter, but interpenetrates it, and in particular does it interpenetrate the fluid element owing to an inner relationship that I showed you yesterday. But let us now ask ourselves the question: What happens when the chemical effect picks out (figuratively speaking) the next realm, the gaseous, or its activities? Then it must happen, considering the matter simply from the external point of view, that something takes its rise in the gaseous which shows an inner relationship to the manifestation of this effect in fluids, which can be compared to this manifestation. In the fluid, the chemical effect seizes upon the material, as it were, and brings this material into such a condition that a mutual interaction sets in. When we put the fluid element before us in thought, we must conceive of it as in mutual reaction with the chemical effect. Let us assume, however, that the action does not go so far as to admit of this seizing of the chemical effect on the matter itself, but let us assume that it works on the matter from the outside only, that it is a stage removed from it as compared to its action on the fluid. Then we have as in the gaseous, a process in which the chemical effect accompanies the material, in one stage removed as compared to its action in fluids. Then there comes about a certain wide independence of the imponderable as compared to the material carrier. In chemical processes proper, the imponderable seizes definitely on the material. Here, however, we come upon a realm where there is not this definite linkage where the imponderable does not definitely insert itself into matter. This is the case in the acoustical realm, in the effect of tone; while in chemical processes in matter we have a complete submergence of the imponderable in matter, in tone we have a persistence of the imponderable as such, a preservation of it in gaseous or aeriform matter. This leads us to something further. It leads us to the point when we have to say: There must be some reason why in fluids the imponderable seizes directly on the material, while in tone effects in the gaseous realm, the imponderable is less able to do this. If we observe chemical activity and have a feeling for what is to be seen within the physically visible, then we will as a matter of course, understand that it belongs to the nature of matter that chemical phenomena go as they do. That is to say: the imponderable is there as something which is a characteristic of matter. It is not possible otherwise than in this way, that when we are dealing with terrestrial matter the seizing upon the imponderable matter takes place through the earth. By means of the forces of the earth, the chemical effect is, so to speak, seized upon and works within the fluids. You see the forces of form stretched out over the whole terrestrial realm and active by virtue of the fact that these forces of form get hold of the interpenetrating chemical effect. When we really understand correctly that we have here the forces of the earth, then we have understood something further, if we will grasp the meaning of tone in the air, namely that an opposite kind of force is involved in tone. That is, we have to think as active in tone a force passing into the earth in all directions from the cosmos, a tendency overcoming the earth forces, and thus striving to separate the imponderable from the earth. This is the peculiarity of the tone world. It is this which gives a certain characteristic to the physics of tone, of acoustics. For in this realm we can on the one hand study the material processes and on the other hand we can live in the world of tone by means of our sensations without paying the slightest attention to the acoustical side. What does acoustics matter to us perceiving men, when we live in tone with our sensations? Acoustics is a beautiful science; it reveals for us striking inner laws and an inner order, but that which lies before us as a subjective experience of tone is far, far removed from the physics of the tone as it is expressed in the material world.

And this is really due to the fact that tone manifestation preserves a certain individuality. It takes its origin from the periphery of the cosmos, while such a process as we observe in the chemical forces active in fluids, for instance, proceeds from the earth as a center.

Now there is one relation brought out also yesterday in Dr. Kolisko's lecture which shows itself only when we rise, as it were, to a universal point of view. This is that we can conceive of the periodic arrangement of the elements as octaves. In this we have an analogy between the inner laws of tone and the whole nature of matter as it demonstrates itself in chemical processes.

Thus is established the fact that we may conceive of all the combinations and breaking down of material compounds as an outer reflection of an inner world music. This inner world music reveals itself to us outwardly as such in only one particular form, namely in our terrestrial music. Music should never be so conceived that we merely say, what is tone within us, subjectively, is only vibrating air outside of us. This must be looked upon as nonsense.

It is to be considered just as nonsensical as if we were to say the following: What you are outwardly as a physical body that you are inwardly as a soul; such a statement leaves out the subject. Likewise we leave out the subject when we consider tone in its inner nature as identical with the condensations and rarefactions of the air that constitute, in the aerial medium, the carrier of tone. Now if you get a correct conception of this matter, you will see that we have in chemical processes to do with a certain relationship between \(Y\) and \(Y'\), and in tone we have to do with a certain relationship between \(Y\) and \(X'\) (See Table.)

I have already indicated to you that when we stand within this or that realm, what we become aware of in the outer world always pertains to difference in level or potential differences. Please endeavor now, to trace what is similar to potential difference in this realm we are dealing with. Let us try to trace what is similar to the potential difference which becomes active in the case where gravity is used to furnish a driving force for a wheel through the falling water. Let us make clear to ourselves that we have differences in level involved in temperature, heat, tone and in the equalization of electric strains. Everywhere are potential differences, we meet them wherever we study forces. But what do we have, then? We have an inner relationship between what we perceive in the spectrum and liquid matter; and that which presents itself to us as chemical process is nothing but the result of the difference between chemical effects and the forces that are in the fluid. It is a \(Y-Y'\) potential difference. And in tone, a lower \(Y-X'\) potential difference is manifesting.

Thus we can say: In relating a chemical process to the world of reality we are dealing with a potential difference between chemical effects and fluid forces. In the manifestation of tone and sound in the air, we are dealing with a potential difference between what is working formatively into chemical effects, what starts from the periphery into the world and the material of the gas, the aeriform body. Furthermore, what shows itself in this realm of reality manifests through potential differences. The matter rests on these differences in potential even though we remain in one element, in warmth, or even in gas or in water. But especially when we perceive distinctions between realms, do we deal with potential differences in the effects of these realms.

Taking all of this together you come to the following: from a consideration of fluids and their boundary surfaces we are obliged to attribute the form of solids to earth forces. The extent to which gravity and the energies of configuration, to borrow a term from modern physics, are related, has been brought before you in past lectures. If we proceed from the forces that manifest in gravity, to those which result in liquid surfaces, apparently plane surfaces on account of the great size of the earth, we find we are really dealing with a sphere. Obviously the liquid levels of all the terrestrial bodies of water taken together constitute a sphere. Now you see, when we pass outwards from the center of the earth toward the surface of the sphere we meet successively certain sets of conditions. For terrestrial relations, within the solid realm we have forces which tend to close in, to delimit. Fluid forces, however, may perhaps be represented in their configuration by a line or plane tangential to the surface of the sphere. If we go further and observe the sphere from without we must put the matter in this way: beneath the sphere of liquid we have to deal with the formative forces of solids. In these formative forces which delimit solids we are dealing with a single body if we consider the earth as a whole.

The many single bodies together form a single form like the fluid element of the earth. How must we then conceive of these various conditions? For we have passed beyond the formed, beyond what is shaped from within as the solid bodies are. How must we picture this to ourselves? Well, we must conceive of it as the opposite condition. Within the sphere we have solids filled with matter, and without we must think of space filled with negative matter. Within we have filled space (see figure). We must become accustomed to thinking of an emptying of space. The earth is indeed not influenced only by what happens on it, but by the other effects from all sides. If this were not so, the terrestrial phenomena themselves would be different. This can only be mentioned today; later we will go into it more thoroughly. For instance, it would not be possible for us to have a separations of continents from bodies of water, or a north and a south pole, if in the environment of the earth there were not empty spaces. These “matterless” spaces must work in from various directions. If we search for them we find them in what the older cosmic systems designated as the planets, to which we must add also the sun.

Thus we are forced from the realm of the earth into the realm of the cosmos, and we are obliged to find the transition from the one condition of space to the opposite condition. We must learn to pass from a space filled positively with matter to one filled negatively with matter and this condition of negativity filled space so far as it acts on our earth we must think of as localized in the planets around the earth. Thus there is active at the point where terrestrial phenomena are going on a mutual interaction of the terrestrial proper and the cosmic, and this is due to the fact that from the negatively filled spaces, a suction-like action is going on while the formative forces are expressing themselves as pressures. This mutual interaction meets us in that particular force-configuration ordinarily sought for in molecular forces and attractions. We should conceive of these things as they were thought of by the intuitive knowledge of former times. Manifestations in matter, which are always accompanied by the imponderable, were then thought of as influenced by the whole cosmos instead of being misinterpreted fantastically as due to certain theoretical inner configurations. What the stars, like giants, do in the cosmos is reflected in the terrestrial dwarfs, the atoms and molecules.

This indeed, is what we have to do; we must know that when we represent a terrestrial process or perform calculations on it, we are dealing with a picture of extra-terrestrial effects, with a mutual action of the terrestrial and the cosmic.

Now you see here we have the force that fills space with matter (see drawing.) Also, here we still have this force that fills space with matter, but this force is attenuated. Ultimately we come to the condition where there is negative matter. There must be a region between where, so to speak, space is torn apart.

We can put the matter in this way. Our space as it surrounds us constitutes a kind of vessel for physical manifestations, and has an inner relationship to these forces. Something in it corresponds to them. But when we go from the ponderable to the imponderable, space is torn apart. And in this tearing apart, something enters that was not there before it happened.

Let us assume that we tear apart the three dimensional space. What is it that enters through the rift? When I cut my finger, blood comes out—it is a manifestation in three dimensional space. But when I tear apart space itself that which comes through is something that is otherwise non-spatial.

Note how modern physical thinking is lost in the woods. Is it not true that when we make electrical experiments in the school room, our apparatus must be painstakingly dried, we must make it a good insulator, or our experiments will fail. If it is moist, the experiment will fail. But I have often called attention to the fact that the inner friction of clouds which are certainly moist is supposed to give rise to electricity which in turn produced lightning and thunder. This is one of the most impossible ideas that can be conceived.

Now on the other hand, if we bring together these things we have considered as necessary for a real understanding, then we can see that space is torn apart the moment the flash appears. At that moment, what fills space as non-dimensional entity, intensively, comes forth like the blood when I cut my hand. This is indeed always the case when light appears accompanied by heat. Space is torn apart. Space reveals to us what dwells within, while it shows us only its exterior in the usual three dimensions that we have before us. Space then shows us its inner content.

We may thus say: when we proceed from the ponderable to the imponderable and have to pass through the realm of heat as we go, we find heat welling out wherever we make the transition from the pressure effects of ponderable matter to the suction effects of the imponderable. At all such points of transition heat wells out.

Now you will see that when we are constructing ideas about the processes which we spoke of several days ago as processes of conduction of heat, you have to relate to them the concept that the heat is bound to the ponderable matter. This is quite the opposite condition to that which we have considered as existing in radiating heat itself. This heat we find as the entity welling out when matter is torn apart. How will it affect matter? It will work from the intensive condition to the extensive. It will, so to speak, work from the inner portion of space into its outer portions. When heat and a material body mutually react on one another we see a certain thing occurring. What occurs is that the characteristic tendency of the heat is transformed. The suction effect is transformed into a pressure effect so that the cosmic tendency of the heat opposes the individualizing tendency of the material which, in solids, is the force that gives form.

We thus have in heat, in phenomena of warmth, insofar as these manifest a conductivity, to seek, not for rays, but for a tendency to spread in all directions. We must look for a mirroring of the imponderable matter, or for the presence of the imponderable in the ponderable. Bodies that conduct heat bring it into manifestation by an intensive reflection of the impinging imponderable heat on their material portion This is in contracts to the extensive reflection characteristic of light.

Now I wish to ask you to work over in your minds such concepts as we are accustomed to entertain and to work them over in the way we do here so that they become saturated with reality, as it were. Let me give you a picture in closing to recapitulate and show you how much reality-saturated concepts can lead us into a vital grasp of the being of the cosmos.

I have already called your attention to the basis upon which rests the perception, the subjective experiences of temperature. We really experience the difference between our own temperature and the temperature of the environment, which, indeed, is what the thermometer does—I have drawn this to your attention. But perception depends precisely on this that we have within us a certain condition and that which lies outside this condition constitutes our perception. We cannot be a thing and perceive it at the same time. But we must always be other than the conditions we are experiencing. Suppose we consider tone. Insofar as we are tone, we cannot experience tone. If we would answer without prejudice the question: what are we as experiencers of tone, we come to the conclusion that we simply experience one potential difference while we are the other potential difference. We experience the \(Y-X'\) difference; we do not experience the \(Y-Y'\) difference because that is part of our being in time. It accompanies our perception of tone. It is an orderly inner chemical process in our fluid nature and is a part of our being. What causes chemical effects within us produces certain orderly effects in the world itself. It is by no means without interest to picture the following to yourselves. You know well that the human body consists only of a small degree of solid constituents. More than 90 percent of it is water, what plays through us as a delicate chemical process while we listen to a symphony is an inner continually phosphorescent marvel in this fluid nature. We are in our inner nature what these chemical processes reflect from tone. And we become aware of the tone world through the fact that we are chemically the tone world in the sense I have presented to you.

Our understanding of man himself is really much broadened, you see, if we bring an understanding of physical problems to bear on the human body. But the thing we must strive for is not to form abstract concepts of which physics is so fond today Rather, we must force our way through the concepts really woven into the world, the objective world. Fundamentally everything that spiritual science is striving to bring into the conceptual world and especially what it is striving to do to promote a certain way of thinking, has for its object to bring back into human development thought permeated with reality. And it is indeed necessary for this to happen. For this reason we must prosecute vigorously such studies as have been presented here during the last few days.

You can see, my friends, how everywhere around you something old is dying out. Is it not possible from examination of physical concepts, to see that something old is really dying out, for little is to be done with them? The very fact that we can build up a new physical concept even when we attempt it in such a limited way—for we can only give indications now—this fact shows that we stand today at a turning point in human development.,

We must, my friends, give thought to certain things. We must push forward the varied lines of endeavor which Dr. Baravalle, Dr. Blumel, Mr. Strakesch, and Dr. Kolisko have presented to you in order to give a new impulse to the development hitherto consummated by the human race. Thus we will lay foundations for progress.

You must see that people the world over are asking for an extension of these things. We must found schools. What is happening in the world outside? People are encouraging schools, the Danish school movement is an example. What is characteristic of the old schools is being carried into the new ones. But nothing new will come of this. The whole people will simply have fastened on them the thing that up to now has been fastened on the learned.

There is nothing sadder than to contemplate a future where the manner of thinking which has devastated the heads of the learned men in the fashion we have seen will be transmitted to the people of the whole earth through the school system. If we would found schools for the people, we must be sure that there will be something available to teach in them, something whose inner configuration represents an advance. We need first the science that can be given in these schools. People wish always to remain superficial, considering only what is obvious. Consequently, in a spiritual movement, they do not wish to do anything radical toward renewing their manner of thinking, but simply to bring to people the old, the disappearing. It is just in regard to physical facts that this tendency is most noticeable.

You will certainly find many things in these lectures that are unsatisfactory, for they can only be suggestive at best. One thing however, is shown, and that is the necessity to build anew our whole physical, chemical, physiological and biological thought world. It must be rebuilt from the fundamental up. We will naturally accomplish this when we have reconstructed not only the schools, but also the science itself. And until we have succeeded in so arranging things that the academic side has been renewed along the lines started in these last few days, only then will we reach that which will and must be reached if European civilization is not to perish in a spiritual sense.

Only consider the shocking trend in the modern academic world. We have long controversial papers read, completely divorced from real life. People sit in fine lecture halls and each reads his paper, but the others do not listen. For it is a noteworthy fact that one man is a specialist in one line, another man is a specialist in a different line. The mathematician reads but the medical man does not listen. And when the medical man reads the thoughts of the mathematician are busy elsewhere. This is indeed a well known sign. Something new must be injected. And this something must have its center in a spiritual striving. We must see this point. Therefore, one can say: if we can but bring together this striving towards a new kind of reality with a building up of the way of thinking in our schools, then we will attain what must be attained.

You can see there is much to be done. We really learn how such is to be done only when we begin to go into details.

For this reason it is so pathetic that people today who cling to the old way of thinking, for it has become old, it has had its day—coin phrases and accumulate great amounts of money to perpetuate their academic system in the world. It is especially difficult because we must become fundamentally convinced that a genuine new world is necessary. We must not deceive ourselves and simply say, “build schools.” We must live in reality and say, “first it is necessary to have something to teach in these schools for the people.” And I would like to say that while fruitful technological results have flowed from science, a still more fruitful technology will flow from a popularizing of science of such a nature as we have tried to indicate here in the realm of physics.

We have in every case tried to emerge from the old theoretical point of view and enter into a point of view that is real, so that our concepts will be saturated with reality. This will yield technical results quite different from those attained up to the present. Practice and theory hang together inwardly. And when we see in any one case what reform is needed as in the case of physics, for instance, we can understand what must happen. Since the time has come when we must separate, I wish to emphasize that I have only indicated to you in these lectures what you are to see, to stimulate you to develop these things further. You will be able to develop them. Our mathematical physicists, whom we have among our number will be able to give new life to the old formulae. And they will find, when they apply to these old formulae the ideas I have indicated to you, that certain transformations can be made that are real metamorphoses. From these will grow much that will be of enormous importance technically for the further development of mankind. This is, of course, something which cannot be gone into in detail, but only can be indicated at this time.

But these observations must now be brought to a close and their further progress will depend on your own work. It is this that I wish you to take especially to heart, for the things are now extremely pressing that have to be accomplished in the three paths of human endeavor. These things have become urgent in our era and there is no time to lose because chaos stands before the door. A second thing to remember is this: The end can only be attained satisfactorily through an orderly human working together. Thus we must try to work out further within ourselves the things that have been stimulated, and you will also find something arising in the work of the Waldorf School. The moment you really try to utilize in pedagogy the definite and valid ideas we have set forth here, they will be taken up at once, and you will also discover that they will go well if you find it necessary to apply them in the conduct of life. We could wish that one did not always have to speak about science to a public which while it takes in much, is always exposed to the opinions of “rigorous scientific thinkers,” to “authorities.” These authorities have no inkling that all we observe is very definitely shot through with the play of something else. We can see this even from language.

Note that in language we have everything mutually related. We speak of an impact. Now it is only because we have ourselves brought about an impact and given a name to the phenomenon that we speak of an impact in a space free of human activity, and vice versa we speak of things that happen within us in words drawn from the outer world. But we do not realize that we should look into the outer world, that is the planetary world, if we will understand the terrestrial bodies, and because we not know this we cannot learn what is happening in the embryos of plants and animals or in any tiny cell upon which we turn our microscopes. We discover all sorts of interesting things, but the source of all this, the thing we long to know, we will only be able to see when we understand macroscopically these processes microscopically observed. We must see that the fertilization and the fruiting of outer nature takes place in a mutual interaction with the outer cosmos. We must study how to conceive of the planets as points of departure for the working of the imponderable in the physical world, as if we are to grasp the relation of the cosmos to plant and animal germ cells.

If we can learn to see all these things on a grand scale without, these things that today we look for under the microscope where they are not really present, if we try to see these things in that which surrounds us (in the cosmos) then we will make progress.

The way is now clear before us. Human prejudice makes for us a very, very serious barricade. This prejudice is hard to overcome. It is for us to do all that we can to overcome it.

Let us hope that we can at some future time continue again these discussions.

The transition from early childhood to the school age is marked by the change of teeth at about the seventh year, and in studying this period it must above all be remembered that up to the seventh year the child is working, as it were, as an inner sculptor and with the creative forces of the head is organizing and moulding his whole being. All that has been present in his environment, including the moral qualities, now plays a part in the development of the vascular system, the circulation of the blood and the processes of the breath, so that as a physical being man bears within him throughout his earthly life the results of the imitative period of his childhood from birth up to the time of the second dentition.

It cannot, of course, be said that he is conditioned only by this, for naturally much can be rectified in the body later by the exercise of moral forces and by inner activity of soul. Still we should realize with what a wonderful heritage we can endow the child on his path of life if we are able to prepare his physical organism to be the bearer of moral and spiritual qualities, if we help the work of the sculptor within him up to the age of seven by ourselves living a moral and spiritual life at his side.

Certain details and other matters of which I spoke yesterday, will come to light as the lectures proceed.

The teacher, then, must understand that when the child has passed his seventh year and comes then to actual school age, these plastic forces are transformed into an activity in the soul which must be reckoned with by his teacher. The child longs for pictures, imagery, and this fact should indicate to us the fundamental principle of his education at this age. From the time of the second dentition up to the age of adolescence, the development of the rhythmic system, i.e., the breathing and the circulation of the blood and also the digestive functions, is all-important. The soul of the child during that period longs for pictorial imagery and his rhythmic system is there to be dealt with by the teacher in an organic bodily sense. And so a pictorial, imaginative element must dominate all that the child is given to do; a musical quality, I might even say, must pervade the relationship between teacher and pupil. Rhythm, measure, even melody must be there as the basic principle of the teaching, and this element demands that the teacher must himself feel and experience this ‘musical’ quality.

It is the rhythmic system that predominates in the child's organic nature during this first period of school life, and the entire teaching must be pervaded by rhythm. The teacher must feel himself so inwardly living in this musical element that true rhythm may prevail in the class-room. He must be able to feel this instinctively.

It thus becomes evident that during the early years of school life (that is to say after the age of seven) all true education must develop from the foundation of art. The reason why education in our day leaves so much to be desired is because modern civilization is not conducive to the development of artistic feeling. I am not here referring to the individual arts, but to the fact that sound educational principles can only arise from a civilization penetrated with artistic quality. This has very great significance.

And if we can imbue our whole teaching with artistic quality, we influence the rhythmic system in the child. Such lessons actually make the child's breathing and circulation more healthy. On the other hand, our task is also to lead the child out into life, to develop a sound faculty of judgment for later life, and so during this age we must teach him to use his intelligence, though never by constraint. There must also, naturally, be some physical training and exercise, for it is our duty to help the child to have a healthy body in later life, in so far as his destiny permits. But to accomplish all this we need a deeper insight into the whole nature of man.

In our modern civilization, where all eyes are concentrated on outer, material things, no attention is given to the consideration of the state of sleep, although man devotes to it one-third of his earthly life. This alternating rhythm of our waking and sleeping is of the greatest possible significance. Never should it be thought that man is inactive while he sleeps. He is inactive only in so far as the outer, external world is concerned, but as regards the health of his body, and more especially the welfare of his soul and spirit, sleep is all-important. True education can provide for a right life of sleep, for the activities which belong to man's waking hours are carried over into the condition of sleep, and this is especially the case with the child.

At the base of all artistic creation lies in reality the unceasing activity of the rhythmic system. Breathing and the action of the heart continue without intermission from birth to death. It is only the processes of thought and will that induce fatigue. Thinking and movements of the body cause fatigue, and since they everywhere come into play, we may say that all life's activities cause fatigue. But in the case of the child we must be especially watchful to guard against over-fatigue. The best possible way to do this is to see that throughout the all-important early school years our teaching has a basic artistic quality, for then we call upon the child's rhythmic system where he tires least of all.

What then will happen if we make too great a demand on the intellect, urging the child to think for himself, forcing him to think? Certain organic forces that tend inwardly to harden the body are brought into play. These forces are responsible for the salty deposits in the body and are needed in the formation of bone, cartilage and sinew, in all those parts of the body in short that have a tendency to become rigid. This normal rigidity is over-developed if intellectual thinking is forced. These hardening forces are normally active during our waking consciousness, but if we make undue claims upon the intellect, if we force the child to think too much, we are sowing the seeds of premature arterial sclerosis.

Thus here too it is essential to develop by means of a true observation of the nature of the child a fine sense of the degree to which we may call with safety upon the different forces at work. A most vital principle is here at stake. If I allow the child to think, if I teach him to write, for instance, in an intellectual way, saying: ‘Here are the letters and you must learn them,’ I am overstraining the mental powers of the child and laying the germs of sclerosis, at any rate of a tendency to sclerosis. The human being as such has no inner relationship whatever to the letters of modern script. They are little ‘demons’ so far as human nature is concerned, and we have to find the right way to approach them. This way is found if to begin with we stimulate the child's artistic feeling by letting him paint or draw the lines and colours that flow of themselves on to the paper from his innermost being. Then, as the child's artistic sense is aroused, one always feels—and feeling is here the essential thing—how greatly man is enriched by this artistic activity. One feels that intellectuality impoverishes the soul, makes a man inwardly barren, whereas artistic activity makes him inwardly rich, so rich in fact that this richness must somehow be modified. The pictorial and artistic tends of itself to pass into the more attenuated form of concepts and ideas, and must in a measure be impoverished in this process of transference. But if, after having stimulated the child artistically, we then allow the intellectuality to develop from the artistic feeling, it will have the right intensity. The intellect too will lay hold of the body in such a way as to bring about a rightly balanced and not an excessive hardening process.

If we force intellectual powers in the child we arrest growth; but we liberate the forces of growth if we approach the intellect by way of art. For this reason at the Waldorf School value is placed upon artistic rather than upon intellectual training at the beginning of school life. The teaching is at first pictorial, non-intellectual; the relation of the teacher to the child is pervaded by a musical, rhythmic quality, so that by such methods we may achieve the degree of intellectual development that the child needs. The mental training in this way becomes at the same time the very best training for the physical body.

To the more sensitive observer there is abundant evidence in our present civilization that many grown-up people are too inwardly rigid. They seem to walk about like wooden machines. It is really a characteristic of our day that men and women carry their bodies about like burdens, whereas a truer and more artistically conceived educational system so develops the human being that every step, every gesture of the hand to be devoted later to the service of humanity brings to the child an inner sense of joy and well-being. In training the intellect we free the soul from the bodily activities, but if we over-intellectualize, man will go through life feeling that his body is “of the earth earthly,” that it is of no value and must be overcome. Then he may give himself up to a purely mystical life of soul and spirit, feeling that the spirit alone has value. Right education, however, also leads us by ways of truth to the spirit that creates the body. God in creating the world did not say: Matter is evil and man must avoid it. No world would have come into being if the Gods had thought like this. The world could only emanate from the Divine because the Gods ordained that spirit should be directly and immediately active in matter.

If man realizes that his highest life in every sphere is that which is directed according to divine intention, he must choose a form of education that does not alienate him from the world, but makes him a being whose soul and spirit stream down into the body throughout his whole life. A man who would deny the body when he immerses himself in thought, is no true thinker.

***

The waking life is beneficially affected if we develop the intellect from the basis of the artistic, and all physical culture has a definite relation to the child's life of sleep. If we wish really to understand the form that healthy culture and exercise of the body should take, we must first ask this question: ‘How does bodily exercise affect the life of sleep?’

All bodily activity arises supersensibly from the will, is indeed an out-streaming of will-impulses into the organism of movement. Even in purely mental activity the will is active and is flowing into the limbs. If we sit at a desk and think out decisions which are then carried out by others, our will-impulses are, nevertheless, streaming into our limbs. In this instance we simply hold them back, restrain them. We ourselves may sit still, but the orders we give are really an in-streaming of the will into our own limbs. We must therefore first discover what is of importance in these physically active impulses of the will if their unfolding is to have the right effect upon the state of sleep; and the following must be taken into account.

Everything that is transformed into action by the human will sets up a certain organic process of combustion. When I think, I burn up something in my organism, only this inner process of burning up must not be compared with the purely chemical combustion of the science of physics. When a candle is alight there is an external process of combustion, but only materialistic thinking can compare this inner process of combustion with the burning of a lighted candle. In the human organization the processes of outer Nature are taken hold of by forces of the soul and spirit, so that within the human body, and even within the plant, the outer substances of nature are quite differently active. Similarly the burning process within the human being is altogether different from the process of combustion we see in the lighted candle. Yet a certain kind of combustion is always induced in the body when we will, even though the impulse does not pass into action.

Now because we generate this process of inner combustion, we bring about something in our organism that sleep alone can rectify. In a certain sense we should literally burn up our bodies if sleep did not perpetually reduce combustion to its right degree of intensity. All this must again be understood in a subtle sense and not in the crude sense of Natural Science. Sleep regulates the inner burning by spreading it over the whole organism, whereas otherwise it would confine itself to the organs of movement.

Now there are two ways of carrying out bodily movements. Think of the kind of exercises children are often given to do. The idea is (everything is “idea” in a materialistic age in spite of its belief that it is dealing with facts) that the child ought to make this or that kind of movement in games or in gymnastics, because only so will he grow up to be a civilized human being. As a rule movements which grown-up people practice are considered the best, for since the ideal is that the child should grow up an exact copy of his elders, he is made to do the same kind of gymnastics. That is to say, a certain opinion is held by ordinary people and must apply also to the child.

As a result of this abstract public opinion, outer influence is brought to bear on the child. He is given this or that exercise merely because it is customary to make these movements. But this sets up processes of combustion which the human organism is no longer capable of adjusting. Restless sleep is the result of mere external methods of physical culture.

These things cannot be observed by the methods of ordinary physiology, but they take place nevertheless in the finer and more delicate processes of the human body. If we give children these conventional gymnastic exercises, they cannot get the deep, sound sleep they need, and the bodily constitution cannot be sufficiently refreshed and restored in sleep.

If on the other hand we can give cur educational methods an artistic form (and remember, in artistic activities the whole nature comes into play) a certain hunger for physical activity will arise quite naturally in the child, for, as we have seen, the excessive richness of the artistic sense reacts as an impulse towards the more sobering element of the intellect. Nothing so easily induces a craving for bodily exercise as artistic activity. If the child has been occupied artistically for about two hours—and the length of time must be carefully arranged—something that longs for expression in movements of the body begins to stir in the organism. Art creates a real hunger for true movements of the body.

Thus gradually we should lead over into games, into free movements in space, what the hands have expressed in painting and drawing, or the voice in singing. Also the child should be encouraged to learn some kind of musical instrument at the earliest possible age, for this involves direct physical activity. The inner forces must be allowed to stream out into movements in space, which should be a continuation, as it were, of the inner organic processes called up by the artistic work in the school. Physical training is then a natural development from the methods of teaching that are right for this age of life, and there is an intimate connection between the two.

If the child is given only such physical exercises as his artistic work creates a need for, he will get the kind of sleep he needs. A right provision for the waking life can thus cause a right life of sleep in which all the organic processes of combustion are harmonized. Bodily and mental training alike must develop from the artistic element. Thus especially so far as the body is concerned, nothing is more essential than that the teacher himself should be an artist through and through. The more joy the teacher can experience in beautiful forms, in music, the more he longs to pass from abstract words into the rhythms of poetry; the more the plastic sense is alive in him the better will he be able to arrange such games and exercises as offer the child an opportunity for artistic expression. But alas! our civilization to-day would like the spirit to be easy of access, and people do not feel inclined to strive too strenuously for spiritual ideals.

As I said in a previous lecture most people, while admitting the inadequacy of their own education, claim at the same time to know what education ought to be and are quite ready to lay down the law about it. And so it comes about that there is little inclination to take into consideration the finer processes of the human organism, as to how, for example, an artistic conception of gymnastic is determined by the artistic activity itself. What are the movements demanded by the human organism itself? No artistic feeling is brought to bear on the solution of these problems. The reading of books is the main occupation of the modern intellectual class; people study Greek ideals and a revival of the ‘Olympic Games’ has become a catch phrase, though this ‘revival’ is of a purely external nature. The Olympic Games are never studied from the point of view of the needs of the human organism, as they were in Greece, for the modern study of them is all book-learning, based on documents or outer traditions that have been handed down.

Now modern men are not ancient Greeks, and they do not understand the part played by the true Olympic Games in the culture of Greece. For if one penetrated fully into the spirit of ancient Greece, one would say: the children were instructed by the gymnasts in dancing and wrestling, as I have described. But why were they thus instructed? This was due to the Olympic Games, for these were not only artistic but also religious in their nature—a true offspring of Greek culture. In their Olympic Games the Greeks lived wholly in an atmosphere of art and religion, and with a true educational instinct they could bring these elements into the gymnastic exercises given to children.

Abstract, inartistic forms of physical culture are contrary to all true education, because they hinder the development of the human being. It would be far better to-day if, instead of trying to find out from books how to revive the Olympic Games, people made some attempt to understand the inner nature of man. For then they would realize that all physical education not based on the inner needs of the organism sets up an excessive process of combustion. The result of performing such exercises in childhood will lead in later life to flabbiness of the muscular system. The muscles will be incapable of carrying out the behests of the soul and spirit.

While on the one hand a false intellectual education inwardly so hardens the body that the bones become burdensome instead of moving with resilience in harmony with the soul, on the other hand the limbs are weakened through too strong a tendency to the process of combustion. Man has gradually become a creature who is dragged down on the one hand by the burden of the salts that have formed within him, and on the other hand is always attempting to escape, to free himself from those organic processes which are due to faulty combustion. An intimate knowledge of man is necessary before a true relationship can be established between these two processes of combustion and salt-formation. Only when we lead over artistic feeling into the intellectual element can the tendency to over-rigidity be balanced by the right degree of combustion. This right balance then affects the life of sleep, and the child sleeps deeply and peacefully. The restlessness and fidgetiness caused by most modern systems of bodily training are absent. Children who are forced to practise the wrong kind of physical exercises fidget in soul during sleep, and in the morning, when the soul returns to the body, restlessness and faulty processes of combustion are set up in the organism.

Our conceptions must therefore be widened by knowledge, for all this will show you that a profound understanding of human nature is essential. If in this earthly existence we hold man to be the most precious creation of the Gods, the great question must be: What have the Gods placed before us in man? How can we best develop the human child entrusted to us here on earth?

Up to the seventh year the child is through and through an imitative being, but from the time of the change of teeth onwards, his inner nature longs to shape itself according to the models set up by a natural authority.

A long time ago now I wrote The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, and in view of what I said there, I do not think you will accuse me of laying undue stress upon the principle of authority in any sphere of social life. Although man's self-expression is directed by an impulse of spiritual freedom, it is just as fully subject to law as the life of Nature. It is therefore not for us to decide according to our likes or dislikes what kind of education should be given to our children between the time of the change of teeth and adolescence. Education should rather be dictated by the needs of human nature itself. Up to the second dentition, at about the seventh year, the child imitates in every gesture, nay, even in the pulsations of the venal blood and in the rhythms of the breath, everything that goes on around him. From birth to the age of seven, the environment is the model which the child copies. But from the seventh to the fourteenth or fifteenth years, to the age of puberty, he must unfold a free spiritual activity under the influence of natural authority. This must be so if development is to be healthy and free and if the child is rightly to use his freedom in later life.

The faculty of personal judgment is not ripe until the fourteenth or fifteenth year. Only then has the child developed to a point at which the teacher is justified in appealing to his faculty of judgment. At the age of fourteen or fifteen he can reason for himself, but before this age we injure him, we retard his development if we enter into “the why and wherefore.” The whole of later life is immeasurably benefited if between the seventh and fourteenth years (approximately, of course) we have been able to accept a truth not because we see its underlying reason—indeed, our intellect is not mature enough for this—but because we feel that the teacher whom we revere and love feels it to be true. Our sense of beauty grows in the right way if we are able to accept the teacher's standard of the beautiful—the teacher to whom we give a spontaneous, and not a forced respect.

Our feeling for the good will also be a guide in later life if we have not been forced to observe petty rules, but have realized from the teacher's own warm-hearted words how much he loves a good deed and hates a bad one. His words can make us so warmly responsive to the good and so coldly averse from evil that we turn naturally to the good because the teacher himself loves it. Then we grow up, not bound hand and foot by dogma, but filled with a spontaneous love for what the teacher declares to be true, beautiful and good. If during the first period of school life we have learnt to adopt his standard of truth, beauty and goodness because he has been able to express them in artistic imagery, the impulse for these virtues becomes a second nature, for it is not the intellect that develops goodness. A man who has over and over again been told dogmatically to do this, or net to do that, has a cold, matter-of-fact feeling for the good, whereas one who has learnt in childhood to feel sympathy with goodness and antipathy to evil has unfolded in his rhythmic nature the capacity to respond to the good and to be repelled by what is evil. He has a true enthusiasm for the one and power to resist the other. In later life it is as though under the influence of evil he cannot breathe properly, as if by evil the breathing and the rhythmic system were adversely affected.

It is really possible to achieve this if after the child has reached his seventh year we allow the principle of natural authority to supersede that of imitation which, as we have seen, must be pre-dominant in the earlier years. Naturally authority must not be enforced for this is just the error of those methods of education that attempt to enforce authority by corporal punishment.

I have heard that what I said yesterday in this connection seemed to suggest that this form of punishment had been entirely superseded. As a matter of fact, what I said was that the humanitarian feelings of to-day would like to do away with it. I was told that the custom of caning in England is still very general and that my words had created a wrong impression. I am sorry that this should have been so, but the point I want now to make is that in true education authority must never be enforced and above all not by the cane. It must arise naturally from what we ourselves are. In body, soul and spirit we are true teachers if our observation of human nature is based upon a true understanding of man. True observation of man sees in the growing human being a work of divine creation. There is no more wonderful spectacle in the whole world than to see how definiteness gradually emerges from indefiniteness in the child's nature; to see how irrelevant fidgeting changes into movements dominated by the inner quality of the soul. More and more the inner being expresses itself outwardly and the spiritual element in the body comes gradually to the surface. This being whom the Gods have sent down to earth becomes a revelation of God Himself. The growing human being is indeed His most splendid manifestation. If we learn to know this growing human being not merely from the point of view of ordinary anatomy and physiology, but with understanding of how the soul and spirit stream down into the body, then as we stand with pure and holy reverence before that which flows from divine depths into the physical form our knowledge becomes in us pure religion. Then as teachers we have a certain quality that is perceptible to the child as a natural authority in which he places spontaneous trust. Instead of resorting to the cane or using any form of inner punishment such as I mentioned yesterday we should arm ourselves with a true knowledge of man, with the faculty of true observation. This will grow into an inner moral sense, into a profound reverence for God's creation. We then have a true position in the school and we realize how absolutely essential it is in all education to watch for those moments when the child's nature undergoes certain changes. Such a metamorphosis occurs, for instance, between the ninth and tenth years, though with one child it may be earlier with another later. As a rule it occurs between the ages of nine and ten.

Many things in life are passed by unperceived by the materialist. True observation of the human being tells us that something very remarkable happens between the ninth and tenth years. Outwardly, the child becomes restless; he cannot come to terms with the outer world and seems to draw back from it with a certain fear. In a subtle way this happens to almost every child, indeed if it does not occur the child is abnormal. In the child's life of feeling, a great question arises between the ninth and tenth years; he cannot formulate this question mentally, he cannot express it in words. It lies wholly in his life of feeling, and this fact intensifies the longing for its recognition. What does the child seek at this age?

Till now, reverence for the teacher has been a natural impulse within him, but at this age he wants the teacher to prove himself worthy of this reverence by some definite act. Uncertainty rises in the child, and when we observe this we must by our demeanour respond to it. It need not be something specially contrived. We may perhaps be especially loving in our dealings with the child—make a special point of speaking to him—so that he realizes our affection and sympathy. If we watch for this moment between the ninth and tenth years and act accordingly, the child is saved as it were from a precipice. This is of far-reaching significance for if this sense of insecurity remains it will continue through the whole of later life, not necessarily in this particular form, but none the less expressed in the character, temperament and bodily health.

At all times we must understand how the spirit works in matter and hence upon the health of the body and how the spirit must be nurtured so that it may rightly promote the health. A true art of education unmistakably shows us that we must conceive of this co-operation of spirit and matter as harmonious and never as in opposition. Modern civilization with its tendency to separate everything is guilty in regard to educational questions. Its conceptions of Nature are materialistic, and when people are dissatisfied with the results of this conception of nature they take refuge in spiritualism, attempting to reach the spiritual by methods that are anything but scientific.

This is one of the tragedies of our day. A materialism which intellectualizes everything is now only able to understand the concepts itself has evolved about matter; materialism however can never reach the heart of matter. And modern spiritualism? Its adherents want the spirits to be tangible, to reveal themselves materially by means of table-turning, physical phenomena and so on. They must not be allowed to remain spirits, and so invisible, intangible, because men are too lazy to approach them in a super-sensible form.

These things are really tragic. Materialism speaks only of matter, never of the spirit. But as a matter of fact materialism does not even understand matter, but speaks of it only in empty abstractions, while spiritualism, imagining that it is speaking of the spirit, is concerned only with matter.

Our civilization is divided into materialism and spiritualism—a strange phenomenon indeed! For materialism understands nothing of matter and spiritualism nothing of spirit.

Man is both body and spirit, and true education must bring about a harmony between the two. It can never be too strongly emphasized that the goal of education must be to give man an understanding of the spirit in matter and a spiritual understanding of the material world. We find the spirit if we truly understand the material world, and if we have some comprehension of the spirit we find, not a materialized spirituality, but a real and actual spiritual world.

If humanity is to find a path of ascent and not be led to its downfall, we need the reality of the world of spirit and an intelligent comprehension of the world of matter.

In the last lecture¹ I drew your attention to the necessity, as a point of departure in teaching, for a certain artistic shaping, to engage the whole being, above all, the “will-life.” From the discussions which we have pursued you will see at once why it is important, and you will see, further, that teaching must be managed so as always to take into account that man contains a dead, a dying element, which must be transmuted into something living. When we approach nature and other realms of the world in a merely contemplative attitude, by mental pictures, we are in the line of death; but when we approach nature and other world-beings with our will, we take part in a process of vivification. As educators, then, we shall have the task of continually vivifying dead substance, to protect from total expiration that quality in man which gravitates towards death; even, in a sense, to fertilize it with what vivifying element the will can give rise to. For this reason we must not be afraid of beginning our work with the child with a certain artistic form of teaching.

Now everything which approaches man artistically falls into two streams—the stream of the plastically formative and the stream of the musically poetical. These two domains of art, that of the plastically formative and the musically poetical, are really poles apart, although precisely through their polar antithesis they are well able to be reconciled in a higher synthesis, in a higher unity. You will be familiar, of course, with the fact that this duality of the artistic element comes to light even in racial terms during the course of the evolution of the universe. You need but remember certain writings by Heinrich Heine for this duality to be evident—he showed that what proceeded from the Greek people, or was related to them, that is what grew racially from their inner nature, is pre-eminently disposed towards the plastically formative shaping of the world, whereas all that sprang from the Jewish element is especially disposed to the really musical element in the world. You find, then, these two streams racially distributed, and anyone who is sensitive to these things will very easily be able to trace them in the history of art. Naturally there are continually arising aspirations, justified aspirations, to unite the musical with the plastically formative. But they can only really be completely united in a perfectly developed Eurhythmy, where the musical and the visible can become one—naturally not yet, for we are only at the beginning, but in the aims and ultimate achievement of Eurhythmy. It must, therefore, be remembered that the whole harmonious nature of man contains a plastically formative element towards which the will-impulse in man inclines. How, then, can we properly describe this human talent for becoming plastically creative?

Were we to be purely intellectual beings, were we only to observe the world through conceptions, we should gradually become walking corpses. We should, in actual fact, make the impression here on earth of dying beings. Only through the urge we feel within us to animate plastically-creatively with the imagination what is dying in concepts, do we save ourselves from this dying. You must beware of wanting to reduce everything to unity in an abstract way, if you wish to be true educators. Now you must not say: “We are not to cultivate the death-giving element in man, we are to avoid cultivating the conceptual, the thought-world in the human being.” In the psychic spiritual realm that would result in the same error as if doctors, turning into great pedagogues, were to contemplate the course of civilization and to say: “The bones represent the side of death in man; let us, then, protect man from this dying element, let us try to keep his bones alive, soft.” The opinion of such doctors would end in giving everyone rickets. It always implies a false principle to proceed to say, as many theosophists and anthroposophists like to do, if there is any talk of Ahriman and Lucifer² and their influences on human evolution; they say these things harm human nature, therefore we must beware of them. But that would be equivalent to excluding man from all the elements which should form his constitution. In the same way, we cannot prevent the cultivation of the conceptual element; we must cultivate it, but at the same time we must not neglect to approach human nature with the plastically formative. In this way there results the desired unity. It does not result from the extinction of the one element, but from the cultivation of both, side by side. In this respect people to-day cannot think in terms of unity. For this reason, too, they do not understand the Threefold State.³ In social life the only right solution is for the spiritual life, economic life, and the life of rights, to stand side by side and for their union to take place of itself, creatively, and not through human abstract organization. Only imagine what it would mean if people were to say: “As the head is a unity, and the rest of the body, too, the human body is really an anomaly; we ought to evolve the head from the rest of the body and allow it to move freely in the world!” We only act in accordance with nature when we allow the whole to grow out of one-sided aspects.

The question, then, is to develop the one isolated aspect, conceptual education. Then the other isolated aspect, the plastically formative, animates what is developed in the mere concept. The question here is to elevate these things into consciousness without losing our naivety, for this age always annihilates consciousness. There is no need to sacrifice our naivety if we fashion things concretely, not abstractedly. For instance, it would be a very good thing from all points of view to start as early as possible with the plastically formative, by letting the child live in the world of colour, by saturating oneself as a teacher with the instructions given by Goethe in the didactic part of his “Theory of Colour” (Farbenlehre). What is the basis of the didactic part of Goethe's Farbenlehre?⁴ The secret is that Goethe always imbues each separate colour with a feeling-shade. He emphasizes, for instance, the rousing quality of red, he emphasizes not only what the eye sees, but what the soul experiences in red. In the same way he lays stress upon the tranquillity, the self-absorption, experienced by the soul in blue. It is possible, without jarring on the child's naivety, to introduce him into the world of colour so that the feeling-shades of the world of colour issue forth in living experiences. (If, incidentally, the child gets itself at first thoroughly grubby it will be a good step in his education if he is trained to get himself less grubby.)

Begin as early as possible to bring the child in touch with colours, and in so doing it is a good idea to apply different colours to a coloured background from those you apply to a white surface; and try to awaken such experiences in the child as can only arise from a spiritual scientific understanding of the world of colour.⁵ If you work as I have done with a few friends at the smaller cupola of the Dornach building,⁶ you acquire a living relation to colour. You then discover if, for instance, you are painting with blue, that the blue colour itself possesses the power to portray inwardness. We can say, then, that in painting an angel impelled by his own inwardness you will feel the spontaneous urge to keep to blue, because the shading of blue, the light and dark of blue, produces in the soul the feeling of movement pertaining to the nature of the soul. A yellow-reddish colour produces in the soul the experience of lustre, giving a manifestation towards the external. If, then, the impression is aggressive, if we are encountered by a warning apparition, if the angel has something to say to us, if he desires to speak to us from his background, we express this by shades of yellow and red. In an elementary fashion we can invite children to understand this living inwardness of colours.

Then we ourselves must be very profoundly convinced that mere drawing is something untrue. The truest thing is the experience of colour; less true is the experience of light and shade, and the least true is drawing. Drawing as such already approaches that abstract element present in nature as a process of dying. We ought really only to draw with the consciousness that we are essentially drawing dead substance. With colours we should paint with the consciousness that we are evoking the living element from what is dead. What, after all, is the horizontal line? When we simply take a pencil and draw a horizontal line, we do an abstract, a dead thing, something untrue to nature, which always has two streams: the dead and the living. We extract the one trend and affirm that it is nature. But if I say: “I see green and I see blue, which are different from each other,” the horizontal line emerges from the contiguity of the colours and I express a truth. In this way you will gradually realize that the form of nature really arises from colour, that therefore the function of drawing is abstraction. We ought to produce already in the growing child a proper feeling for these things, because they vivify his whole soul's being and bring it into a right relation with the outside world. Our civilization is notoriously sick for lack of a right relation to the outside world. There is absolutely no need, I wish to remind you, to return to one-sided-ness again in teaching. For instance, it will be quite wise gradually to pass from the purely abstract art which people produce in their delight in beauty, to concrete art, to the arts and crafts, for humanity to-day sorely needs truly artistic productions in the general conditions of civilization. We have in actual fact reduced ourselves in the course of the nineteenth century to making furniture to please the eye, for example to making a chair for the eye, whereas its inherent character should be to be felt when it is sat on. To that end it should be fashioned; we should feel the chair; it must not only be beautiful; its nature must be to be sat on. The whole fusion of the sense of feeling with the chair, and even the cultivated sense of feeling—with the way in which the arms are formed on the chair, etc.—should be expressed in the chair, in our desire to find support in the chair. If, therefore, we were to introduce into school-life teaching in handiwork and manual skill with a decided technical-industrial bias, we should render the school a great service. For just imagine what a great cultural problem the individual who means well to humanity is faced with to-day, when he sees how, for instance, abstractions are on the point of inundating modern civilization: there will no longer be even a residue of beauty in civilization; this will be exclusively utilitarian! And even if people dream of beauty, they will have no sense of the compulsion we are under to emphasize more emphatically than ever the necessity for beauty, because of the socializing of life towards which we gravitate. This has to be realized.

There must, therefore, be no reservations with the plastically formative in teaching. But just as little must there be reservations in the true experience of that dynamic element which is expressed in architecture. It is very easy here to fall into the error of introducing the child too early to this experience. But, in a sense, even this must happen; I had addressed a few words to the children of Münich who were on holiday at Dornach, eighty of them, and who had had twelve lessons in Eurhythmy from Frau Kisseleff,⁷ and who were able to demonstrate what they had learnt to a group of their staff and Dornach anthroposophists. The children had their hearts in their work, and at the end of the complete Eurhythmy performance, which also included demonstrations by our Dornach Eurhythmists, the children came up and said: “Did you like our performance too?” They had the real urge to perform as well. It was a beautiful thing. Now at the request of the people who had arranged the whole entertainment, I had to say a few words to the children. It was the evening before the children were to be taken back again to Münich and district. I expressly said: “I am saying something to you now which you do not understand yet. You will only understand it later. But notice if you hear the word ‘Soul’ in future, for you cannot understand it yet!” This drawing of the child's attention to something which he does not yet understand, which must first mature, is extraordinarily important. And the principle is false which is so much to the fore in these days: We are only to impart to the child what he can at the moment understand—this principle makes education a dead thing and takes away its living element. For education is only living when what has been assimilated is cherished for a time deep in the soul, and then, after a while, is recalled to the surface. This is very important in education from seven to fifteen years of age; in these years a great deal can be introduced tenderly into the child's soul which can only be understood later. I beg you to feel no scruple at teaching beyond the child's age and appealing to something which he can only understand later. The contrary principle has introduced a deadening element into our pedagogy. But the child must know that he has to wait. It is one of the feelings we can promote within the child that he must be ready to wait for a perfect understanding until much later. For this reason it was not at all a bad idea in olden times to make the children simply learn 1 × 1 = 1, 2 × 2 = 4, 3 × 3 = 9, etc., instead of their learning it, as they do to-day, from the calculating machine. This principle of forcing back the child's comprehension must be overthrown. It can naturally only be done with tact, for we must not depart too far from what the child can love, but he can absorb a great deal of material, purely on the teacher's authority, for which understanding only dawns later.

If you introduce the plastically formative element to the child in this way you will see that you can vivify much of what is sapping away life.

The musical element, which lives in the human being from birth onwards, and which—as I have already said—expresses itself particularly in the child's third and fourth years in a gift for dancing, is essentially an element of will, potent with life. But, extraordinary as it may sound, it is true that it contains as it plays its part in the child, an excessive life, a benumbing life, a life directed against consciousness. The child's development is very easily brought by a profoundly musical experience into a certain degree of reduced consciousness. One must say, therefore: “The educational value of music must consist in a constant inter-harmonizing of the Dionysian element springing up in the human being, with the Apollonian. While the death-giving element must be vivified by the plastically formative element, a supremely living power in music must be partially subdued and toned down so that it does not affect the human being too profoundly.” This is the feeling with which we should introduce music to children.

Now this is the position: Karma develops human nature with a bias towards one side or the other. This is particularly noticeable in music. But I want to point out that here it is over-emphasized. We should not insist too much: This is a musical child; this one is not musical. Certainly the fact is there, but to draw from it the conclusion that the unmusical child must be kept apart from all music and only the musical children must be given a musical education, is thoroughly false; even the most unmusical children should be included in any musical activity. It is right without a doubt, from the point of view of producing music more and more, only to encourage the really musical children to appear in public. But even the unmusical children should be there, developing sensitiveness, for you will notice that even in the unmusical child there is a trace of the musical disposition which is only very deep down and which loving assistance brings to the surface. That should never be neglected, for it is far truer than we imagine that, in Shakespeare's words

The man that hath no music in himself
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; ...
Let no such man be trusted.

The Merchant of Venice, Act V, Scene I.

That is a very fundamental truth. Nothing should therefore be left undone to bring in touch with music the children considered at first to be unmusical.

But of the greatest importance, particularly socially, will be the cultivation of music in an elementary way, so that, without any paralysing theory, the children are taught from the elementary facts of music. The children should get a clear idea of the elements of music, of harmonies and melodies, etc., from the application of the most elementary facts, from aural analysis of melodies and harmonies, so that in music we proceed to build up the structure of the artistic element as a whole in just the same elementary way as we do with the plastically formative element, where we begin with the isolated detail. This will help to mitigate the persistent intrusion into music of dilettantism; although it, must not for a moment be denied that even musical dilettantism has a certain utility in the social life of the community. Without it we should not with ease be able to get very far, but it should confine itself to the listeners. Precisely if this were done it would be possible to give due prominence within our social life to those who can really produce music. For it should not be forgotten that all plastically formative art tends to individualize people: all the art of music and poetry, on the other hand, furthers social intercourse. People come together and unite in music and poetry; but they become more individual through plastic and formative art. The individuality is better preserved by the plastically formative; social life is better maintained in common enjoyment and experience of music and poetry. Poetry is created in the solitude of the soul—there alone; but it is understood through its general reception. With no intention of inventing an abstraction we can say that man discloses his innermost soul in the creation of poetry, and that his inner soul finds response again in the innermost soul of other people who absorb his creation. That is why pleasure, above all things, in, and yearning for, music and poetry, should be cultivated in the growing child. In poetry the child should early become familiar with real poetry. The individual to-day grows up into a social order in which he is tyrannized over by the prose of language. There are to-day innumerable reciters who tyrannize over people with prose, and place in the foreground of the poem nothing but the prose-content. And when the poem is so recited that the emphasis is laid on the thought content, we consider it nowadays the perfect recitation. But a really perfect recitation is one which particularly emphasizes the musical element. In the few words with which I sometimes introduce our Eurhythmy demonstrations, I have often drawn attention to the way in which in a poet like Schiller a poem arises from the depth of his soul. In many of his poems he first feels the lilt of an undefined melody, and only later into this undefined melody does he sink, as it were, the content, the words. The undefined melody is the element in which the content is suspended, and the poetical activity lives in the fashioning of the language, not in the content, but in the measure, in the rhythm, in the preservation of the rhyme, that is in the music which underlies poetry. I said that the present mode of recitation is to tyrannize over people, because it is always tyranny to attach the greatest value to the prose, to the content of a poem, to its abstract treatment. Spiritual-scientifically we can only escape the tyranny by presenting a subject, as I always try to do, from the most different angles, so that comprehension of it is kept fluid and artistic. I felt particular pleasure when one of our artistically gifted friends said that certain cycles of my lectures, purely in virtue of their inner structure, could be transformed into a symphony. Something of this kind actually does underlie the structure of certain cycles. Take, for instance, the cycle given in Vienna⁸ on the life between death and a new birth, and you will see that you could make a symphony out of it. That is possible because an anthroposophical lecture should not make a tyrannical impression, but should arouse people's will. When, however, people come to a subject like the “Threefold State,” they say that they cannot understand it. In reality it is not difficult to understand; only they are not used to the mode of expression.

It is consequently of extreme importance to draw the child's attention in every poem to the music underlying it. For this reason the division of teaching should be arranged so that the lessons of recitation should come as near as possible to those of music. The teacher of music should be in close contact with the teacher of recitation, so that when the one lesson follows the other a living connection between the two is achieved. It would be especially useful if the teacher of music were still present during the recitation lesson and vice versa, so that each could continually indicate the connections with the other lesson. This would completely exclude what is at present so very prominent in our school-life, and what is really horrible—the abstract explanation of poems. This detailed explanation of poems, verging perilously on grammar, is the death of all that should influence the child. This “interpretation” of poems is a quite appalling thing.

Now you will object: But the interpreting is necessary to understand the poem! The answer to that must be: Teaching must be arranged to form a whole. This must be discussed in the weekly Staff-meeting. This and that poem come up for recitation. Then there must flow in from the rest of the teaching what is necessary for the understanding of the poem. Care must be taken that the child brings ready with him to the recitation lesson what he needs to understand the poem. You can quite well—for instance, take Schiller's Spaziergang—explain the cultural-historical aspect, the psychological aspect of the poem, not taking one line after the other with the poem in your hand, but so as to familiarize the child with the substance. In the recitation lesson stress must be laid solely on the artistic communication of art.

If we were to guide the artistic element like this, in its two streams, to harmonize human nature through and through, we should have very important results. We must simply consider that when a human being sings it is an infinitely valuable achievement of companionship with the world. Singing, you see, is itself an echo of the world. When the human being sings he expresses the meaningful wisdom from which the world is built. But we must not forget that when he sings he combines the cosmic melody with the human word. That is why something unnatural enters into song. This can easily be felt in the incompatibility of the sound of a poem with its content. It would mean a certain progress if one were to pursue the attempt already begun, to maintain sheer recitative in the lines, and only to animate the rhyme with melody, so that the lines would pass in a flow of recitative and the rhyme be sung like an aria.⁹ This would result in a clean severance of the music of a poem from its words, which, of course, disturb the actually musical person.

And again, when the musical ear of the individual is cultivated he himself becomes more disposed to a living experience of the musical essence of the world. This is of the supremest value for the evolution of the individual. We must not forget: In the plastically formative we contemplate beauty, we live it; in music we ourselves become beauty. This is extraordinarily significant. The further back you go into olden times the less you find what we really call music. You have the distinct impression that music is only in process of creation, in spite of the fact that many musical forms are already dying out again. This arises from a very significant cosmic fact. In all plastic or formative art man was the imitator of the old celestial order. The highest imitation of a world-heaven order is the plastic formative imitation of the world. But in music man himself is creative. Here he does not create out of a given material, but lays the very foundations for what will only come to fulfilment in the future. It is, of course, possible to create music of a kind by imitating musically, for instance, the rushing of water or the song of the nightingale. But true music and true poetry are a creation of something new, and from this creation of the new will arise one day the Jupiter, Venus, and Vulcan evolutions.¹⁰ In linking up with music we retrieve, in a sense, what is still to be; we retrieve it for reality out of the present nullity of its existence.

Only in linking up in this way with the great facts of the world do we acquire a right understanding of teaching. Only this can confer on it the right consecration, and in receiving this consecration it is really transformed into a kind of divine service.

I have set up more or less an ideal. But surely our concrete practice can be ranged in the realm of the ideal. There is one thing we ought not to neglect, for instance, when we go with the children we are teaching—as we shall, of course—into the mountains and the fields, when, that is, we take them out to nature. In introducing these children like this to nature we should always remember that natural science teaching itself only belongs to the school building. Let us suppose that we are just coming into the country with the children, and we draw their attention to a stone or a flower. In so doing we should scrupulously avoid allowing so much as an echo of what we teach in the school-room to be heard outside in nature. Out in the open we should refer the children to nature in quite a different way from what we do in the class-room. We ought never to neglect the opportunity of drawing their attention to the fact that we are bringing them out into the open to feel the beauty of nature and we are taking the products of nature back into the school-room, so that there we can study and analyse nature with them. We should, therefore, never mention to the children, while we are outside, what we explain to them in school, for instance, about plants. We ought to lay stress on the difference between studying dead nature in the class-room—and contemplating nature in its beauty out of doors. We should compare these two experiences side by side. Whoever takes the children out into nature to exemplify to them out of doors from some object of nature what he is teaching in the class room is not doing right. Even in children we should evoke a kind of feeling that it is sad to have to analyse nature when we return to the class-room. Only the children should feel the necessity of it, because, of course, the disturbance of what is natural is essential even in the building up of the human being. We should on no account suppose that we do well to expound a beetle scientifically out of doors. The scientific explanation of the beetle belongs to the class-room. What we should do when we take the children out into the open is to excite pleasure in the beetle, delight in the way he runs, in his amusing ways, in his relation to the rest of nature. And in the same way we should not neglect to awaken the distinct sense in the child's soul that music is a creative element, an element that goes beyond nature, and that man himself becomes a fellow-creator of nature when he creates music. This sense will naturally have to be formed in a very rudimentary manner as an experience, but the first experience to be felt from the will-like element of music is that man should feel himself part of the cosmos.

• 1. Allgemeine Menschenkunde als Grundlage der Pädagogik, third lecture (the accompanying course. See Preface).
• 2. R. Steiner, Outlines of Occult Science, Philosophical-Anthroposophical Press of the Goetheanum, Dornach, also the Four Mystery Plays.
• 3. R. Steiner, The Threefold State.
• 4. See the Introduction to Goethe's works on Natural Science, edited by Rudolf Steiner.
• 5. R. Steiner's Theory of Colour.
• 6. Wege zu einem neuen Baustil (“Ways to a New Style in Architecture”) five lectures by Rudolf Steiner, with 104 illustrations. The Philosophical-Anthroposophical Press of the Goetheanum, Dornach, Switzerland.
• 7. Eurhythmy teacher at the Goetheanum, 1913–27.
• 8. Inneres Wesen des deuschen und Leben zwischen Tod und neuer Gebrut, 1914.
• 9. Paul Baumann, Songs of the Free Waldorf School.
• 10. R. Steiner, Outlines of Occult Science.