The Rudolf Steiner Archive

[Before the lecture Steiner spoke a few words regarding his trip to Norway. See GA 259]

Today I propose to carry further certain points made in recent lectures concerning the evolution of humanity since the time of Christ.

Looking back, in survey, over the evolution of mankind, we see that the epochs described in anthroposophical spiritual science take their shape from the particular soul constitution of the human beings alive at any given time. This differs greatly from epoch to epoch. Today, however, there is little inclination to look beyond man's present day makeup. Although civilization has developed in a way describable in outer documents, in general mankind is regarded as having always had the same soul nature. This is not true. It has changed; and we know the dates at which it underwent transformations externally plain and distinguishable.

The last of these turning points has often been designated as the fifteenth century after Christ; the one preceding it occurred during the eighth pre-Christian century; and we might in this way go still further back. I have often emphasized how correct the art historian Herman Grimm is when he points out that the full historical comprehension of the people of the present age reaches back no further than the Romans, at which time the ideas now prevalent settled into men's souls. Or approximately the same ideas. They still operate, though at times in a detrimental way—for example, concepts of Roman law no longer in harmony with our society. The very manner in which contemporary man takes part in social life shows a comprehension for something reaching back to the Roman period.

If, on the other hand, we describe the external historical events of ancient Greece like modern events, we do not penetrate into the real soul-nature of the Greeks. Herman Grimm is right in saying that, as usually described, they are mere shadows. Precisely because ordinary consciousness can no longer see what lived in those souls, it is unable to understand the Greeks' social structure.

Still more removed from our soul life is that of the human beings of the Egyptian-Chaldean period prior to the eighth century before Christ; more different still that in ancient Persia, and completely different that of the ancient Indian epoch following the great Atlantean catastrophe.

When with the help of spiritual science we mark the stages in the changing constitution of the human being, it becomes clear that our way of feeling about the human being, our way of speaking of body, soul and spirit, of the ego in man, our sense of an inner connection between the human being and the earth planet, arose in the fourth post-Atlantean epoch. Gradually, in the course of time, life has become so earth-bound that human beings feel estranged from the cosmos, and see the stars and their movements, even the clouds, as lying outside our earthly dwelling place; therefore of little significance.

Prior to the Graeco-Latin period, people's feelings and indeed their will-impulses were, if I may use the expression, elementary-cosmic. Man did not need a philosophy in order to feel himself a member of the whole universe, especially the visible universe. It was natural for him to feel himself not only a citizen of the earth but also a member of the cosmos, especially during the first epoch, that of ancient India. If we go back to the seventh or eighth millennium of the pre-Christian era, we find that the human being—I cannot say spoke but felt—that the human being felt quite differently than we do today about the ego, the self. To be sure, the human beings of that ancient time did not express themselves as we do, because human speech did not have the same scope as today. But we must express things in our own language, and I shall put it thus: In ancient India man did not speak of the ego in our modern way; it was not, for him, a point comprising all his soul experiences. On the contrary, when he spoke of the ego it was to him self-evident that it had little to do with earth and earth events. In experiencing himself as an ego, man did not feel that he belonged to the earth; but, rather, that he was connected with the heaven of the fixed stars. This was what gave him the sense and security of his deepest self. For it was not felt as a human ego. Man was a human being only through the fact that here on earth he was clothed by a physical body. Through this sheath-for-the-ego he became a citizen of earth. But the ego was regarded as something foreign to the earthly sphere. And if today we were to coin a name for the way the ego was experienced, we would have to say: man felt not a human but a divine ego.

He might have looked outward to the mountains, to the rocks; he might have looked at everything else on earth and said of it all: This is, this exists. Yet at the same time he would have felt the following: If there were no other existence than that of earth's plants, rivers, mountains and rocks, no human being would have an ego. For what guarantees existence to earthly things and beings could never guarantee it to the ego. They are in different categories.

To repeat: Within himself man felt not a human but divine ego: a drop from the ocean of divinity. And when he wanted to speak about his ego (I say this with the previously-made reservations) he felt it as a creation of the fixed stars; the heaven of the fixed stars was the one sphere sharing its reality. Only because the ego has a similar existence is it able to say, “I am.” If it were able to say “I am” merely according to the level of existence of stone or plant or mountain, the ego would have no right to speak so. Only its starlike nature makes it possible for the ego to say, “I am.”

Again, the human beings of this primeval epoch saw how the rivers flowed and the trees were driven by the wind. But if we regarded the human ego which dwells in the physical body and has an impulse to move about on the earth hither and thither—if we regarded this ego as the active force in movement, as wind is the active force in moving trees, or as anything else of earth is an active force, we would be wrong. The ego is not this kind of outer cause of motion.

In ancient times the teacher in the Mysteries spoke to his pupils somewhat like this: You see how the trees sway, how the river water flows, how the ocean churns. But from neither the moving trees, the flowing rivers, nor the heaving ocean could the ego learn to develop those impulses of motion which human beings display when they carry their bodies over the earth. This the ego can never learn from any moving earthly thing. This the ego can learn only because it is related to the planets, to starry motion. Only from Mars, Jupiter, Venus, and so forth, can the ego learn motion. When the ego of its own volition moves upon the earth, it achieves something made possible by its relation to the wheeling world of the stars.

Further, it would have seemed incomprehensible to a man of this ancient epoch if somebody had said: Look how thoughts arise out of your brain! Let us travel backward in time and imagine ourselves with the soul constitution we once had (for we have all passed through lives in ancient India); then confronted by the present-day soul condition, the one which makes people assume that thoughts arise out of the brain. All that modern man believes would appear as complete nonsense. For the ancient human being knew well that thoughts can never spring from brain substance; that it is the sun which calls forth thoughts, and the moon which stills them. It was to the reciprocal action of sun and moon that he ascribed his life of thoughts.

Thus in the first post-Atlantean epoch, the ancient Indian time, the divine ego was seen as belonging to the heaven of the fixed stars, to the planetary movements, to the reciprocal action of sun and moon; and what came to it from the earth as transient, the essence of the ego being cosmic-divine.

In Occult Science, an Outline I call the second epoch Ancient Persian. By then the perception of the cosmic ego had grown less vivid; it was subdued. But the people of that age had an intensive experience of the recurrent seasons. (I have recently and repeatedly lectured on the year's course.) Pictorially speaking, the modern human being has become a kind of earthworm, just living from day to day. Indeed he is not even that, for an earthworm comes out of his hole when it rains, while the human being—just lives along. He experiences nothing special; at best some abstract differences: in rain he is uncomfortable without an umbrella, he adjusts himself to snow in winter and sunshine in summer, he goes to the country, and so forth. But he does not live with the course of the year; he lives in a dreadfully superficial way; no longer puts his whole humanness into living.

In the ancient Persian epoch it was different. Man experienced the year's course with his whole being. When the winter solstice arrived he felt: Now the earth soul has united with the earth. The snow which for present-day man is nothing but frozen water was at that time experienced as the garment the earth dons in order to shut itself off from the cosmos and develop an individually-independent life within that cosmos. The human being felt: Now, indeed, the earth soul has so intimately united with the earth, man must turn his soul-nature to what lives in the earth. In other words, the snow cover became transparent for man's soul. Below it he felt the elementary beings which carry the force of plant-seeds through winter into spring.

When spring arrived in ancient Persia, man experienced how the earth breathed out its soul, how it strove to open its soul to the cosmos; and with his feelings and sensations he followed this event. The attachment to the earth developed during the winter he now began to replace with a devotion to the cosmos.

To be sure, man was no longer able to look up to the cosmos as he did during the immediately preceding epoch; no longer able to see in the cosmos all that gave existence, movement and thought to his ego. He said: What in winter unites me with the earth summons me in spring to raise myself into the cosmos. But though he no longer had so intensive a knowledge of his connection with the cosmos as formerly, he felt it as by divination. Just as the ego in the ancient Indian time experienced itself as a cosmic being, so in the ancient Persian time the astral element experienced itself as connected with the course of the year.

Thus man lived with the changing seasons. When in winter his soul perceived the snow blanket below, his mood turned serious; he withdrew into himself; searched (as we express it today) his conscience. When spring returned, he again opened himself to the cosmos with a certain gaiety. At midsummer, the time we now associate with St. John's Day, he surrendered with rapture to the cosmos, not in the clear way of the ancient Indian time, but with the joy of having escaped from the body.

Just as in winter he felt connected with the clever spirits of the earth, so in midsummer he felt connected with the gay spirits dancing and jubilating in the cosmos, and flitting around the earth. I am simply describing what was felt.

Later, during August, and more especially September, the human soul felt it must now return to earth with the forces garnered from the cosmos during its summer withdrawal. With their help it could live more humanly during the winter season.

I repeat: It is a fact that during those ancient times man experienced the year's course with his whole being; considered its spiritual side as his own human concern.

He also felt the importance of training himself, at certain points of the year, in this intensive experience of the seasons; and such training bred impulses for the seasonal festivals. Later on, man would experience them only traditionally, only outwardly. But certain aspects would linger on. For example, the festivals of the summer and winter solstices would keep traces, but merely traces, of ancient, mighty and powerful experiences.

All this is connected with a revolution in the innermost consciousness of man. For ancient India it was quite impossible to speak of a “people,” a “folk.” Today this seems paradoxical; we find it hard to imagine that the feeling for such a thing arose only gradually. To be sure, the conditions of the earth made it necessary, even in the ancient Indian epoch, for inhabitants of the same territory to have closer ties than those living apart. But the concept of a people, the feeling of belonging to a folk, did not exist during the ancient Indian epoch.

Something different prevailed. People had a very vivid feeling for the succession of generations. A boy felt himself the son of his father, the grandson of his grandfather, the great-grandson of his great-grandfather. Of course, things were not dealt with the way we have to describe them with current concepts; but the latter are still appropriate. If we look into the mode of thought of that ancient time, we discover that within a family circle great emphasis was laid on an ability to enumerate one's forebears, grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather, right down the line to very remote ancestors. A man felt himself as standing within this succession of generations.

As a consequence, the sense of living in the present was little developed. To human beings of the ancient Indian time, an intimate connection with past generations (retained as a caricature in aristocracy's present-day stress on ancestry) seemed self-evident; they needed no family records. Indeed human consciousness itself, instinctively clairvoyant, made connections with a man's ancestry by remembering not merely his own personal experiences, but—almost as vividly—the experiences of his father and grandfather. Gradually these memories grew dim. But human consciousness would continue to experience them through the blood ties.

Thus in ancient times the capacity for feeling oneself within the generations played a significant role. Parallel to it there arose—though slowly—the folk concept, the sense of being part of a people. In ancient Persia it was not yet very pronounced. When a living consciousness of life within the generations, of blood relationship coursing through the centuries, had gradually faded, consciousness focused, instead, on the contemporary folk relationship.

The folk concept rose to its full significance in the third post-Atlantean or Egypto-Chaldean period. Though, during that epoch, awareness of the year's course was already somewhat deadened, there lived, right into the last millennium of the pre-Christian age, a vivid consciousness of the fact that thoughts permeate and govern the world.

In another connection I have already indicated the following: For a human being of the Egyptian period the idea that thoughts arise in us and then extend over things outside would have seemed comparable to the fancy of a man who, after drinking a glass of water, says his tongue produced the water. He is at liberty to imagine that his tongue produced the water, but in truth he draws the water from the entire water mass of the earth, which is a unity. It is only that an especially foolish person, unaware of the connection between the glassful of water and the earth's water mass, overestimates the abilities of his tongue. The people of the Egypto-Chaldean epoch made no similar mistake. They knew that thoughts do not arise in the head; that thoughts live everywhere; that what the human being draws into the vessel of his head as thought comes from the thought ocean of the world.

In that time, though man no longer experienced the visible cosmos in his divine ego, nor the course of the year in his astral nature, he did experience cosmic thoughts, the Logos, in his etheric body. If a member of the Egypto-Chaldean epoch had spoken our language, he would not, like us, have referred to man's physical body as of prime importance. To him it was the result of what lives as thought in the etheric body; was merely an image of human thought.

During that period the folk concept became more and more definite; the human being more and more an earth citizen. The connection between the starry world and his ego had, in his consciousness during this third post-Atlantean cultural period, dwindled greatly. Though astrology still calculated the connection, it was no longer seen in elemental consciousness. The course of the year, so important for the astral body, was no longer sensed in its immediacy. Yet man was still aware of a cosmic thought element.

He had arrived at the point where he sensed his relation to earthly gravity. Not exhaustively so, for he still had a vivid experience of thinking, but perceptibly.

During the Graeco-Latin period this experience of gravity developed more and more. Now the physical body became paramount. Everything has its deep significance at its proper time, and in all the manifestations of Greek culture we see this full, fresh penetration into the physical body. Especially in Greek art. For the early Greeks their bodies were something to rejoice over; the Greeks were like children with new clothes. They lived in their bodies with youthful exuberance.

In the course of the Graeco-Latin period, and particularly during Roman civilization, this fresh experience of the physical body gave way to something like that of a person in a robe of state who knows that wearing it gives him prestige. (Of course, the feeling was not expressed in words.) A Roman individual felt his physical body as a ceremonial robe bestowed by the world order.

The Greek felt tremendous joy that he had been allotted such a body and, after birth, could put it on; and it is this feeling that gives to Greek art, to Greek tragedy, to the epics of Homer, in their human element, insofar as they are connected with the outer physical appearance of man, their particular poetic fire. We have to look for the inner reasons for all psychological facts. Try to live into the joy that gushes forth from Homer's description of Hector or of Achilles. Feel what immense importance he attached to outer appearance.

With the Romans this joy subsided. Everything became settled; men began to grasp things with ordinary consciousness. It was during the fourth post-Atlantean cultural epoch that man first became an earth citizen. The conception of ego, astral body and ether body of earlier times withdrew into indefiniteness. The Greeks still had a clear sense for the truth that thought lives in things. (I have discussed this in Rätsel der Philosophie.) But the perception was gradually superseded by a belief that thought originates in man. In this fashion he grew more and more into his physical body.

Today we do not yet see that this situation began to change in the fifteenth century, at the start of the fifth post-Atlantean cultural epoch; that, since then, we have been gradually growing away from our bodies. We fancy that we feel as the Greeks felt about the human shape, but actually our feeling for it is dull. We have no more than a shadowlike sensation of the “quickfooted Achilles,” and little understanding of how this expression roused Greeks to a direct and striking perception of the hero; so striking that he stood before them in his essential nature. Indeed in all art we have gradually lost the experience of the permeation of the physical body by the soul; whereas in the last pre-Christian centuries the Greek felt how cosmic thought was disappearing and how thought could be taken hold of only by reflecting upon the human being. Presentday man is completely uncertain in regard to the nature of thought; he wavers.

A Greek of the sixth pre-Christian century would have considered it comical if somebody had asked him to solve the scientific problem of the connection of thought with the brain. He would not have seen it as a problem at all. He would have felt as we would feel if, when we picked up a watch, somebody demanded that we speculate philosophically about the connection between watch and hand. Say I investigate the flesh of my hand, then the glass and metal in my watch; then the relation between the flesh of my hand and the glass and metal in my watch; all in order to obtain philosophical insight into the reason why my hand has picked up and holds the watch. Well, if I were to proceed thus, modern consciousness would consider my gropings insane.

Just so it would have appeared insane to Greek consciousness if anyone had attempted, by reference to the nature of thought and the cerebellum, to explain the self-evident fact that man's being uses his brain to lay hold of thoughts. For the Greek this was a direct perception just as, for us, it is a direct perception that the hand takes hold of the watch; we do not consider it necessary to establish a scientific relation between watch and muscle. In the course of time problems arise according to the way things are perceived. For the Greek what we call the connection between thinking and organism was as self-evident as the connection between a watch and the hand that seizes it. He did not speculate about what was obvious. He knew instinctively how to relate his thoughts to himself.

If someone said: Well, there is only a hand; the watch ought to fall down, what really holds it? For the Greek this would have been as absurd as the question: What is it that develops thoughts in the brain? For us the latter has become a problem because we do not know that already we have liberated our thoughts, and are on our way to freeing them from ourselves. Also we do not know how to deal properly with thoughts because, being in the process of growing away from it, we no longer have a firm hold on our physical body.

I should like to use another comparison. We have not only clothes but pockets into which we can put things. This was the situation with the Greeks: their human bodies were something into which they could put thoughts, feelings, will impulses. Today we are uncertain what to do with thoughts, feelings and will impulses. It is as though, in spite of pockets, all our things fell to the ground; or as though, worried about what to do with then, we lugged them about in our hands. In other words, we are ignorant of the nature of our own organism, do not know what to do with our soul life in regard to it, contrive queer ideas with respect to psycho-parallelism, and so forth. I am saying all this to show how we have gradually become estranged from our physical bodies.

This fact is illustrated by the whole course of humanity's evolution. If we again turn our gaze to the ancient Indian time when the human being looked back through the succession of generations to a distant ancestor, we see that he felt no need to search for the gods anywhere but within the generations. Since, for the Hindu, man himself was divine, he remained within human evolution while looking for the divine in his forebears. Indeed the field of his search was precisely mankind's evolution.

There followed the time which culminated in the Egypto-Chaldean culture, when the folk concept rose to prominence and man beheld the divine in the various folk gods, in that which lived in blood relationships, not successively as before, but spatially side by side.

Then came the Greek period when man no longer felt god-imbued, when he became an earth citizen. Now for the first time there arose the necessity to seek the gods above the earth, to look up to the gods. By gazing at the stars, ancient man knew of the gods. But the Greek needed, in addition to the stars, the involvement of his personality in order to behold those gods; and this need kept increasing within mankind.

Today man must more and more develop the faculty of disregarding the physical, disregarding the physical starry sky, disregarding the physical course of the year, disregarding his sensations when confronting objects. For he can no longer behold his thoughts in matter. He must acquire the possibility of discovering the divine-spiritual as something special above and beyond the physical sense world before he can find it again within the sense world.

To emphasize this truth energetically is the task of anthroposophical spiritual science. Thus anthroposophical spiritual science grows out of the entire earthly evolution of mankind. We must always remember that Anthroposophy is not something arbitrarily created and placed as a program into mankind's evolution but, rather, something suited to our epoch, something resulting from the inner necessities of mankind's long history.

The fact that materialism holds sway over our age is, really, only a lagging behind. Man not only became an earth citizen in the Greek sense; today he is already so estranged from his earth citizenship he no longer understands how to handle his soul-spirit being in relation to his body—it is one of the needs of the age for the human being to behold spirit and soul in himself without the physical. Side by side with this deep soul-need, there exists materialism as an Ahrimanic stopping short at something natural in the age of the Greeks and Romans when one could still behold the spiritual in the physical, but not natural today.

Having remained stationary, we can no longer see the spiritual in the physical; we consider only the physical as such. This is materialism. It means that a current hostile to development has entered evolution. Mankind shuns the coining of new concepts; it prefers to continue on with the old. We must overcome this hostility toward development; must open ourselves to it. Then we shall acquire a quite natural relationship to anthroposophical growth of spirit, and pass over from antiquated needs to the truly modern need of mankind: namely, to raise ourselves to the spiritual.

In today's lecture I have tried to gain a viewpoint from which you can see how, for the present age, in the evolution of mankind, Anthroposophy constitutes a real necessity.

Christian theologians are calling the gospel of John into question today.⁵³ They say the first three gospels, the synoptic gospels according to Matthew, Mark and Luke, are consistent in the way they speak of Jesus. Any variations between them are considered unimportant. It is said that on the basis of the synoptic gospels one can have a consistent idea of Jesus. The gospel of John differs greatly from them, speaking of the founder of Christianity in a very different tone and apparently a very different way. It is therefore considered less credible. The synoptics, people say, were intended to tell the life of Christ, whilst the writer of John's gospel lived at a later period and wrote a kind of hymn to express how he felt. Theologians see John's gospel as the fictional work of a believer. The times have gone when a theologian like Bunsen⁵⁴ might write: ‘If the gospel of John does not tell the historical truth, Christianity simply will not be tenable.’ It is the task of spiritual science to show the significance of John's gospel again to the people of today.

There is another reason why present-day theologians give preference to the synoptics over John's gospel. If one takes the content of these three gospels, having thrown out the miracles, one has the image of an exalted human being, but someone who is no more than an exalted human being. According to the gospel of John, however, Jesus was more than just a highly developed human being. He was a universal spirit incarnated in an earthly body. The synoptics speak of Jesus of Nazareth, the gospel of John is about the Christ.

The introduction to John's gospel refers to an all-encompassing cosmic principle, the logos, which incarnated in Jesus of Nazareth: ‘In the beginning was the logos.’ People do not want to know about a sublime spirit descending. They only believe in highly developed human beings and not that a god ever lived on earth. It is because of this that people have gradually lost their relationship to the gospel of John over the last centuries. This lecture will be about the way people relate to the gospel of John.

If you read John's gospel the way you read any other book, to find out what it says, you are reading it very much the wrong way. John's gospel is not a book in the sense one generally takes a book to be. It is a book of life.

Let me say first of all that in all deeply religious documents every word has been put there with profound intention. This may be illustrated by considering the question: ‘What is the name of Jesus' mother according to John's gospel?’ Everyone will say: ‘Mary’. But this cannot be shown from John's gospel. Jesus' mother is first mentioned in the story of the wedding at Cana, but she is not named: ‘On the third day a wedding took place at Cana in Galilee and the mother of Jesus was there.’⁵⁵ She is mentioned again and not named as one of the three women who stood by the cross: ‘But beside Jesus' mother and his mother's sister, Mary, the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.’⁵⁶ Here it is not his mother but her sister who is called ‘Mary’. It is unlikely that both sisters would be called Mary, and we therefore have to assume that Jesus' mother had a different name.

Another example is this. The writer of John's gospel or the individual who is otherwise always called John, is always only referred to as ‘the disciple whom the Lord loved’. ‘When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing there, he said to his mother: Here is your son.’⁵⁷ This is deeply important if we are to understand the questions we meet when we take the gospel of John in a spiritual sense.

Until a few centuries ago, the gospel of John was considered to be a book of meditation. It had to become inward experience if one wanted to have inner understanding of Jesus. It was for priests who wished to behold the secrets of Christianity. Hundreds of people have truly done this, and hundreds of them have gained the fruit of it. To penetrate to the Christian mysteries one had to let one's soul mature solely with the aid of John's gospel. People had to know, however, that the first lines had magic powers. The pupil had to let them come alive in his soul for a quarter to half an hour every morning, never speculating on them but purely to absorb their power. This was meditation. Someone who lived with the first lines of John's gospel in this way for months, for years, would realize their special power, for the eyes of the spirit would open for him. Those lines are live powers capable of waking dormant faculties. The pupils would then have living astral visions of the images given in the gospel. The first words of it served to give people this experience. Their power was greater in the past than it is today. People have changed more than one tends to think.

People did not read in the 13^th century, when printing had not yet been developed. Reading has changed humanity a great deal. Even the most devout individual today has no idea of the riches of feeling people then had. Today we must give different meditations to people who want to progress.

It would also be necessary to translate John's gospel properly,⁵⁸ so that it may once again be what it used to be for people.

In the origin was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was a god.

This was with God in the origin.

All that exists has come into being through it, and nothing that has come into existence has done so except through it. In it was life, and life was the light of mankind. And the light shone into the darkness, but the darkness did not comprehend it.

There came to be a man, sent by God, and his name was John. He came to witness, that he bear witness of the light, that all might believe through him.

He was not the light, but a witness of the light.

For the true light, that illumines all men, was to come into the world. It was in the world, and the world came into being through it, but the world did not know it.

It came into individual human beings (it came to the I-people); but the individual human beings (the I-people) did not receive it.⁵⁹

At the time of the Lemurian race, the human soul entered into its first human incarnation. Before then it rested in God; human beings were not yet I-endowed.

This inner vision—what happens when someone gains insight into the world of the spirit? Everyday people live between waking and sleep, the latter at most broken up by dreams. Human beings consist of physical body, ether or life body, astral body and I. These four members are together when people are awake. The physical body is a sum of physical apparatuses, the eye a camera obscura, the ear a stringed instrument. The ether body enters into these, vitalizing them and conveying the sensations to the astral body—the bearer of pleasure and pain, drives, desires and passions—and then also to the I. In sleep, the physical and ether bodies lie in the bed, the astral body with the I is lifted out. The ether body stays with the physical body and vitalizes it; vital functions continue without interruption in sleep. Colours, sounds, pleasure and pain are in deep darkness, as it were, with the individual not aware of them.

There are as many worlds as the human being has sense organs to perceive. Without eyes no light. If man had an organ for electricity he would perceive it just as he now perceives light, for instance.

In sleep, a human being lives in the astral or also in the devachanic world, but is not sentient of it. A change will only come if he works consistently to develop higher organs. Light then begins to dawn around him. In sleep, he is sentient of a space around him that is filled with objects. Something happens to him the way it does to someone born blind who has an operation. Astral and spiritual sense organs develop, he sees the world of the spirit, and sleep no longer makes him unconscious. Later the world of the spirit around him begins to sound. He hears the Pythagoreans' music of the spheres, something people nowadays think is a metaphor. Goethe knew exactly what it was. In his prologue to Faust he said:

The sun proclaims its old devotion
In rival song with brother spheres,
And still completes in thunderous motion
The circuits of its destined years.⁶⁰

This cannot be taken to be mere words but must be taken literally. One hears the sun sound forth when one hears the music of the spirit. In part 2 of Faust, Goethe wrote:

Resounding now for ears of spirit
The new day is already being born.⁶¹

The world of the spirit thus first comes during sleep for human beings, but they must also be able to take the experiences they have had in their sleep into the everyday world. They must find the things they first discover in sleep among the physical objects they know when awake. This comes with further training.

When the first lines of John's gospel had had their effect, and the gospel's images arose before the mind's eye, the pupil would be assisted in developing certain feelings. After some further exercises the teacher would ask him to develop the following feeling, doing this for a long time: ‘If the plant that grows in the soil were to consider the rock on which it is growing it would have to say to it: "You, stone, belong to a lower realm than I do, but I could not exist without you." It would have to bend down to it and thank it in all humility for making life possible for it. In the same way every higher class of human beings must bend down to the lower class and thank it. Every individual who is at a higher level owes his existence to the one who is lower than he is. This is a feeling you must firmly establish in your soul, for hours every day, for weeks and for months.’

If the pupil did this, a spiritual image would finally appear before his eyes that would be the same for everyone. He would see twelve people of a lower order sitting around him and he would wash their feet. The teacher would then say: ‘Now you have inner understanding of the 13^th chapter of John's gospel, the washing of the feet.’ Apart from this image seen in the spirit there would also be physical symptoms which again were the same for almost all of them. The pupil would feel as if there was water washing around his feet.

He then had to develop a second feeling, again for weeks and months. When all the pain and hardships of life beset me, I want to develop the strength to withstand them. When he had developed this inner feeling a new vision would arise. He would see himself being scourged. This vision again would be the same for everyone. The outer symptom would be a stinging and itching sensation over the whole body that continued for a long time. He would then have to develop a third feeling. It is not enough to bear the hardships of life: ‘The best you have in you may have scorn and derision poured on it. Remain upright in spite of this.’ When the pupil had developed this feeling a third vision would appear: He would see himself wearing the crown of thorns. The external symptom would be a severe headache.

He then had to develop another feeling. ‘All people say “I” to the body they bear. Your body must be no more important to you than any other object. You must feel your body to be something alien to you.’ When the pupil had gone through this, the vision of the crucifixion would come, and externally the stigmata of the Christ on hands and feet and on the right side of the chest—not the left, as is usually said. These symptoms would come again on many occasions at times of meditation.

The teacher would then say to the pupil: ‘You will now experience the mystic death.’ This can only be described in approximate words. The pupil's experience would be that the whole of existence was extinguished for a moment; all objects had gone, were hidden behind a veil. The veil would then rip apart from top to bottom and the pupil would look into the world of the spirit. Before this there was something else. Before he knew mystic death, the pupil would have visions of all the evil that may exist in the world; he had to descend to hell before he experienced the mystic death.

In the sixth stage the pupil would begin to feel that his body no longer was something that belonged to him. His conscious awareness expanded to embrace the whole earth. When this had been developed it would be called the entombment. The seventh stage can no longer be described in earthly terms. It was resurrection and ascension to heaven. This state is beyond anything a human being can think of.

The gospel of John describes these seven stages. Someone who had gone through them all would recognize Jesus as he had lived on earth. The gospel of John is the way of coming to know Christ Jesus. It was therefore given to those who wanted to grow wise as a book to help their development, not as a book of devotions. Every part of it can become living experience.

Details: The revelation of this truth is a stage in human evolution that cannot be compared with any other. The following came into the world with Jesus: Man already had four members when he first incarnated, but he developed further. Let us consider an undeveloped human being. His astral body would still be the way it was when he received it. Let us compare it with the astral body of an average European or that of an idealist such as Schiller⁶² or a highly developed individual such as Francis of Assisi.⁶³ The average European no longer obeys every drive. He will reject some, and also put other feelings in their place—moral laws. The I has been working on the astral body. His astral body consists of two parts—the unpurified part, which is still the way it was when he received it, and the purified part. In Schiller, the purified part was already large, compared to the unpurified. And the astral body of a Francis of Assisi consists of the purified part only. This purified part of the astral body is called the spirit self or manas, and the human being then has five principles to his essential nature.

Human beings can work on their ether bodies in the same way. Religious and artistic feelings work on the ether body and create the life spirit, buddhi, out of it. If someone is able to gain control of the physical body, the part of it which he has made spiritual is the atman. The process is exceedingly slow in external evolution. In Greece the buddhi was called Chrestos, and most people today have only the first beginnings of this. The greatest power given to our age to develop the buddhi came with the Christ. He made it possible to develop the sixth principle, the buddhi, in the whole of humanity. He made humanity spiritual.

The seventh principle is that of the father. The holy spirit develops manas, the Christ the sixth principle, and when this has been extensively developed for a whole race, the power that has lain hidden in it emerges, and that is the sixth principle. All human beings who are part of that race will then have reached the sixth stage of initiation, which is the entombment.

A cheerfull or a sad face tells us that the soul is cheerful or is sad; the outer reveals the inner, everything brings the soul to revelation. If you think of the earth as the body of an ensouled being, then the souls of human beings have merged with the soul of the earth when their bodies have merged physically with the earth. The soul in the earth could be just as the human soul is in the human body. Man takes his food from the body of the earth and tramples it underfoot. Jesus said: ‘He who eats my bread has lifted up his heel against me.’

Older writings often have keywords, specific terms for particular things. Thus a master going to the inner sanctuary with his pupils is ‘going up the mountain’. The sermon on the mount was for the pupils only: ‘And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain ... his disciples came to him.’⁶⁴

In the same way ‘temple’ refers to the physical body. It is usually referred to as our lower nature. Is it truly low in relation to the astral body? The fact is that the physical body is much more highly developed than the astral body today. Later on, of course, the astral body will be much more highly developed than the physical body. Consider the thigh bone, where maximum strength is given using the minimum of material. Or consider the heart, which is so wisely organized that it resists continuous attacks from the astral body for decades.

It was said that when an initiate's astral body loosened and came to conscious awareness: ‘He has gone out of the temple.’ The Christ speaks of the temple in the gospel of John: ‘Then they took up stones to throw at him. But Jesus hid himself and went out of the temple.’⁶⁵ He also spoke in this sense of cleansing the temple and destroying it and rebuilding it in three days.

How the Christ came into the world may be seen as follows. The sixth principle, the buddhi, is born of the fifth when this has reached its highest point, of the spirit self or manas or, to use the name the Greeks had for the fifth principle, Sophia. All gnostics who accepted the meaning of the gospel of John called the mother of Jesus ‘Sophia’.

With the appearance of Jesus the earth received the sixth principle. The life spirit united with humanity. For this to be accomplished, the Sophia had to be fully mature first. When the life spirit unites with humanity, humanity is the Sophia. This is given as a parable in the story of the wedding at Cana.

The Lord let the gospel of John be revealed by the disciple whom he loved. That is always the name given to the first and favourite pupil of a master. In the gospel of John, reference to the disciple whom the Lord loved is first made in chapter 11, where he speaks of the raising of Lazarus. In those days, a pupil would spend three days in the temple to be initiated. Not only his astral body but his ether body, too, would be loosened. He therefore died, as it were, and was raised again at the end of the three-day period. The Lord initiated the disciple whom he loved, and the raising of Lazarus signifies this.

The disciple who stood by the cross was therefore again Lazarus, and the same initiate also wrote the gospel of John. To make it all harmonize, the disciple whom the Lord loved is not mentioned before the raising of Lazarus in chapter 11. This was the view held in all gnostic and Rosicrucian schools. It is a view that will be held again.

The gospel of John is a book full of secrets, full of powers offered to humanity.

Questions and Answers

What is the ‘causal body?’

When people die today, the ether body separates from the physical body together with the astral body and the I. The ether body still stays with the higher members for a time, and during this first period after leaving the physical body a person's whole last life lies spread before him like a vast tableau. This is because the ether body supports not only the vital functions but also memory. In life it was limited by the physical brain and unable to function fully. As soon as the physical barriers have gone, the complete memory spreads before the human soul. This continues until the ether body separates from the astral body and I after a few days. It is only the ether substance which separates, however. The memory picture is taken along. The individual keeps this essence of the ether body, and the sum of such essences from all lives on earth is the causal body.

How should we regard the celebration of the last supper in the gospel of John, and especially bread being given to Judas, the betrayer?

A specific part of the old form of initiation consisted in the pupil being taken to the temple, and in a ‘three-day death’, which meant that the ether body was also loosened and taken through astral and devachanic experiences. One of these was that every part of the body became a human figure. There were twelve parts, and the pupil would see twelve figures, with himself the thirteenth, the soul of the twelve.

Sensuality has brought egotism and this must be overcome. This was an important part of the teaching for medieval initiands. At that time, a teacher might have said something like the following to a pupil. ‘Look at the plant, it chastely holds the fruiting organs up to the sun. A fruit can only develop if the flower is kissed by the sun. Man is an upside-down plant. The animal is between the two. The cosmic soul goes through plant, animal and man. The cosmic soul is crucified on the cross which is the earth. Man's substance is interwoven with desires. His flesh is lower than the flesh of a plant. Later, man will be without desire again and chastely offer himself to the rays of the spiritual sun.’ The principle known as the holy grail arises, which is a bringing forth in the spirit.

At the last supper in the gospel of John, lower self-seeking is represented by Judas, the betrayer. The disciple whom the Lord loved was leaning on his breast. The purified energy goes up to the heart which will be the organ for bringing things forth in the spirit in future. This can already be seen in the anatomy of the heart. The heart is an involuntary muscle and therefore should have smooth fibres. But it does not; it is striated the way voluntary muscles are. It is thus already pointing to a time when it will be a voluntary muscle.

When pupils woke from their initiation, the words ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!’⁶⁶ would be wrested from their lips, they mean ‘My God, my God, how you have transfigured me!’ These words given in the original text are easily changed to the other version, which is: ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’

The house where the last supper was taken was one of the initiation houses.

What did the transformation of water into wine at Cana mean?

The way modern theologians explain it, it is the transformation of the old testament into the new, which is to be the bubbling wine. Here in the north, Siegfried was the pre-Christian initiate who did not go beyond pre-Christian initiation. This is indicated by his vulnerable spot. Siegfried, invulnerable, was vulnerable at the point where the Christ bore the cross.

One individual will come who signifies the meaning of the earth. Water is the blood of this spirit. Water was known as ‘the blood of Christ’ in all the mysteries.

In the 8th century before Christ, the rites of Dionysus developed and with them also excessive drinking of wine. Wine was not known in Atlantean times. Today it has fulfilled its function. The appearance of the vine louse is a sign that wine has had its day. When it did not yet exist, all human beings had an awareness of the eternal core that goes from life to life. Belief in reincarnation was a consolation for an Egyptian worker who had to labour so hard that we cannot imagine it today. Those people did not drink wine. Drinking wine cuts human beings off from insight into the higher aspects. This had to happen at one time. If humanity had never had wine, they would have grown weary of the earth and that could not be allowed to happen. To develop civilization, human beings had to come to love the earth; they had to be cut off from their earlier incarnations and love only the one in which they were at the time. The whole of humanity once had to go through a period when they knew nothing of their higher principles and of earlier incarnations. Christianity did not teach reincarnation in public for two millennia; it was only taught to initiates, which is also what the Christ did when he asked them to tell no one about the things they had seen till he had come again,⁶⁷ that is, until the sixth principle had slowly evolved. That time has now come. The whole of humanity has now gone through one incarnation where they were cut off from the higher world.

In earlier times marriage was among blood relations. A consequence of the change to marrying out of one's tribe was that clairvoyance was lost. Today marriage between blood relations would cause degeneration. In those early days, people not only remembered things from their own but also from their parents' lives. This inherited memory bore a name: Adam, Seth, Enoch. Apart from memories, good and evil things were also inherited—original sin.

To change this, general love of humanity had to replace the blood bonds. ‘He who loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.’⁶⁸

Jesus also went to people not of his tribe, to the Samaritan woman. ‘Jews had nothing in common with Samaritans.’⁶⁹ Christ Jesus came from Galilee, a country of the most mixed blood possible.

A spirit on a distant star looking at the earth would see the physical earth penetrated and surrounded by an ether and an astral body. If this spirit had observed earth evolution from Abraham to the present day it would have seen its colours change at the moment when the blood flowed from Christ's wounds. An initiation like that of Paul the apostle⁷⁰ could not have happened before the coming of the Christ. This external initiation had become possible when the earth's whole astral body changed.

Question concerning the future of Christianity

Christianity has such infinite depths that it is quite impossible to see how it will develop. As a religion it is the last. It has all the potential for development. Theosophy merely serves Christianity.

The difference between the Christ and the other founders of great religions is that in the other religions people believe in what the founders taught, in Christianity people believe in what the Christ himself represents.

Healing influence of the ether body on the physical body

Mental diseases are partly due to the fact that the ether body does not have the power to influence certain parts of the physical body. If the ether body is too weak to control part of the body, this part will get sick. If you strengthen the ether body you have helped.

• 53. E.g. Strauss, David Friedrich (1808–74), German theologian, Leben Jesu (life of Jesus) 1835, translated into English by George Eliot in 1846; Renan, Ernest (1823–92), French philologist and historian, Vie de Jésus (life of Jesus) 1863; Hamack, Adolf von(1851–1930), Das Wesen des Christentums (the nature of Christianity) Leipzig 1901.
• 54. Bunsen, Christian KarlJosias, Baron (1791–1860), Prussian diplomat, theologian and scholar, author of works on history and theology.
• 55. John 2: 3-5.
• 56. John 19: 25.
• 57. John 19: 26
• 58. Rudolf Steiner had translated John 1:1 -14 for a lecture he gave in Munich on 27 Oct. 1906 (in German in GA 94). See also lecture of 2 Dec. 1906 in this volume.
• 59. The manuscript of Rudolf Steiner's translation into German is in the Archives in Domach (No. NZ 3477). The words in parentheses were added by him at a later stage.
• 60. Karl Julius Schröer wrote in his Faust commentary: ‘The ancient Germans believed that a sound could be heard as the sun rose (Tacitus, Germania 45). In one of the Songs of Ossian translated by Goethe it says: “Where the sun sings as he rises.” The Pythagoreans held the view that the law of physics according to which heavenly bodies move and are held, is expressed in sounds that are the harmony of the spheres.’
• 61. Here Karl Julius Schröer again referred to the ancient Germans and to Ossian, continuing: ‘Goethe probably had the passages 5, 749 and 8, 393 in the Iliad in mind. The Horae, guardians of Olympus, guard, open and close the gate of heaven. Those passages do, however, say: Heaven's gate crashed open of its own accord which the Horae were guarding.’
• 62. Schiller, Johann Christoph Friedrich von (1759–1805), German writer, poet and playwright.
• 63. St Francis of Assisi (1182–1226), Pater Seraphicus, see R. Steiner's lectures given in Berlin on 15 Feb. 1909 (in The Principle of Spiritual Economy, GA 109) and 22 March 1909 (in The Deed of Christ and the Opposing Spiritual Powers, GA 107).
• 64. John 13:18. Sermon on the mount—see also the lecture given in Stuttgart on 19 Jan. 1907, in this volume.
• 65. John 8: 59.
• 66. Matthew 27: 46; Mark 15: 34.; ‘sabachthan’, is usually translated as ‘forsaken’. A similar-sounding word ‘shevachthani’ means ‘elevated’ or ‘glorified’. See lecture given in Basel on 12 Sept. 1910 (in The Gospel of St Matthew, GA 123).
• 67. Mark 9: 9.
• 68. Luke 14: 26; Matthew 10: 37; Mark 10: 29.
• 69. John 4: 9.
• 70. John 4: 9.

Today we will deal with the initiation steps of the so-called Rosicrucian, Occidental occult training. Everything that is presented here is by no means to be understood as general rules for life, but can only be the task of the one who voluntarily submits to this training and thus initially stands out from the general human race in order to later be able to pass on what he has achieved. Once he has decided to become a disciple, there should be no possibility for him to criticize this training, the way it is conducted, or the behavior of the occult teacher. He must put himself into the hands of the teacher's experience. If this is impossible, and if he entertains any trace of mistrust or dissatisfaction towards his teacher, then it is better to sever the tie between himself and the teacher. For only an affection based on trust and recognizing the teacher's authority can establish the right relationship between the student and the teacher, which should be beneficial for the student. The student is always free to leave the occult training. But if one wants to undergo it, one must also be clear about the fact that the rules in question are given out of a firmly established truth in the sense of the most advanced individualities, those whom we have to regard as the great teachers of mankind, and that one can only progress if one obeys the rules. It must also be clear that this path with its instructions has already been tried and tested by many hundreds and has been successful.

In the three paths that we have now discussed, the relationship between the student and the teacher is different. In the Indian yoga training, the relationship between student and guru is very strict: absolute, complete submission to the guru is an absolute requirement. Since the student is not yet familiar with the higher worlds when following the Indian path, it is necessary that he is guided by his personal guru.

The relation is different in the case of the Christian training. There the teacher is the guide to the great Guru, Christ Jesus. A personal connection, a personal relationship of mind to Christ Jesus, is absolutely necessary for the disciple. If he cannot believe with all the power of his soul in Christ Jesus and in what He has done and exemplified for humanity, he cannot follow the Christian Path.

In the Rosicrucian training, the relationship is the freest and easiest. The teacher is the faithful friend, the guide within the narrower limits of his student's occult experience. He is not concerned with the student's daily activities, he trusts him and allows him full freedom. There is no compulsion or command anywhere, only advice is given. But there must be a friendly relationship of trust between teacher and student. Without this, the training would remain in the realm of the manasic, without it, Budhi could not be implanted at all. The power generated by the relationship of trust is necessary for occult training. Without it, the dormant powers in the student cannot be awakened.

Since the Rose Cross Way indicates study as the first step, it might be thought that this training is not for everyone. However, this is not correct; it is there for everyone, even for the simplest person. Because this study is understood to mean popular Theosophy, everything that you hear and read here in these lectures and in my or other spiritual scientific writings; that is already such a study. It is the elementary occult teaching given to man. Through it he is to become free from the prejudices of life, from the suggestion of science, which completely dominates the modern man and has already caused much mischief, blocking his unbiased view of the world, the way to impartiality, which he must find in order to have a clear judgment. In the Occident, free thinking is no longer common; instead, everything is suggestion, established dogma through power and authority. Even in the simplest concepts we have this suggestive influence: the suggestion of scholars, the suggestion of science, the suggestion that emanates from the individual. Our modern life is dominated by the family, by the relationship between the sexes. The theosophist, however, should penetrate more deeply into preparatory, logical, and sense-free thinking. He should immerse himself in such trains of thought as far as possible. For this purpose, to train such a way of thinking, I have written the two books 'Truth and Science' and 'Philosophy of Freedom', so that one can immerse oneself in such trains of thought. It is less important to understand the content in question than to live in these trains of thought. Free, sharp, rational thinking is necessary because it gives the student a certain independence, but this thinking is also a sure guide to the higher worlds. We encounter new and different things in the various worlds; but what remains the same in all worlds is thinking. Everywhere there are different perceptions, different experiences, but logic is the same in all worlds. This only changes on the Budhiplan. A remarkable change now occurs in the student. His thoughts expand to embrace other worlds. The thoughts that a person usually has here are not mental, they relate only to the physical plane. They are only the shadow images of mental reality. Now he is approaching its reality.

Next to study, the second faculty we have is imagination. Everyone must go through it at some time. Man gradually frees himself from the dry sensual contemplation of things. He tries to see in them only the expression of something that stands behind them and begins to look at the world in the Goethean sense according to the word: “Everything that is transitory is only a parable.” The pupil must carry out this deepened way of thinking systematically. Things must become parables, symbols, to him. When we look at the rose, it is a symbol for a certain form of beauty; the autumn crocus is the image of a fine, melancholy inwardness.

And so every thing has a meaning at its basis. Things are in fact parables in reality. The whole sensual world is an illusion; the spiritual world is the real one. There must be and be achieved an interaction between people and the spiritual world. We must keep our thoughts and our soul life fluid; we must not form rigid forms. It has already been pointed out in Lucifer-Gnosis that through a continuous, loving contemplation, the qualities are released from things and then flow through space. Thus, for example, something like a flame formation seems to rise from a plant; behind this is the spiritual. In these flowing, flooding sensations of color and taste, which have no correlate here on the physical plane, the human being must now find his way, and then he is ready for the teaching of occult writing to begin.

The third thing to learn is how to read the occult writing. This helps us to correctly line up the manifold phenomena like pearls on a string. The occult writing is not arbitrarily conceived, but represents the currents that flow through the world. Something that plays a major role in spiritual reality is two spirals rolled into one another, forming a vortex. At the root of the nose is the predisposition for the two-petalled lotus flower, which will develop into a higher organ of perception in the future. The sign of the vortex corresponds to this etheric organ. It is similar to the sign of Cancer, in which the Sun was at the dawn of the Atlantean race. We still have this and the other signs of the constellations in the calendar. A very important occult symbol is the staff of Mercury with the snake coiled around it. It is the archetypal form of the letter S. Those who know the occult language can evoke the relevant signs as thought-forms; in certain cases they then have power over others. In John's Gospel 8:3-11, there is an account of Christ and the adulteress: Christ wrote signs of the occult writing on the ground with his finger to create the right thought forms in the accusing crowd and to prompt them to the right action at the right moment. “Let him who is without guilt throw the first stone at her.” He hands over her guilt to karma, to the law of equal return. Christ wanted to say: every deed carries its reward within itself. “Go and sin no more.” Moses received instruction in the seeing of these occult signs in his conversation with God (Exodus 3 and 4). There Moses learned to know the occult writing and was endowed with the power to enable him to fulfill his task. That he had to throw a rod, which became a snake, means that he learned the occult writing.

If we imagine a vortex and think of its two parts in red and blue, we see the two etheric currents that underlie the red and blue blood.

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A fourth is the rhythm of life. All higher life is based on it. Nature and the cosmos know nothing but rhythmic laws. The orbits of the stars, every flower, even the intimate life of animals know an exact rhythm. Could you imagine a violet blooming in August instead of March? Rhythm is everywhere present in nature. But the closer we get to the human being, the more the rhythm changes into chaos. The weekly timetable of our schoolchildren is still a true blessing. A person should bring a certain rhythm into themselves, create a new cosmos. This happens through daily repetitive actions, meditation at a certain time of day, and also through regulating the breathing process.

The fifth is the correspondence between macrocosm and microcosm. When a person finds something within himself that corresponds to a fact in the macrocosm, he first really gets to know himself. How can a person know when the sun was separated from the earth? He can find out by looking into the inside of his eye. Another point in time is when man began to say “I” to himself. This happened in Atlantis, at the time of the Primitive Semites, when a certain point in the physical head coincided with another in the etheric head. The earth was still covered with dense fog, and certain conditions outside and inside man corresponded. An important exercise is for the student to concentrate on a certain point between the eyebrows and to allow himself to be guided by an idea given to him by his teacher.

In the sixth stage, contemplation, the student goes out of himself and expands his consciousness to include the whole world. The higher self is outside of us, we must seek it in all beings, for we are all one. This also speaks from Jupiter and Venus. There are Theosophists who only want to seek the divine within themselves. But in truth, it is the lower personality that speaks from them. One such person once went around saying, “I am Atman, I am Atman.” That was the only thing he knew. Brooding within oneself leads nowhere. We are everything, and we must immerse ourselves in all beings. Immersing oneself in one's own inner being is only a detour to doing so.

When you have come so far as to be able to empathize with all beings, then you have reached the seventh stage, that of divinity. The whole nature of the world takes on a spiritual physiognomy. Everything that man sees around him becomes an expression of something higher. Just as tears are not just salty drops with a certain chemical composition, but an expression of the soul, so the plant cover of the earth is an expression of the earth soul, which is a reality. Some flowers appear to us as joyful eyes, others as tears of the earth spirit, which it weeps over the sadness that prevails in the cosmos. It is true what Goethe has the earth spirit say:

In the flood of life, in the storm of action
I surge up and down,
weaving back and forth
birth and grave,
an eternal sea,
a changing weaving,
a glowing life:
So I create at the whirring loom of time
And work the living garment of divinity.

This is how we got to know the skeleton of the Rosicrucian schooling.

Which training you undergo is not crucial. You can develop your soul powers and gain insights into the supersensible world through all three paths. Of course, it is good to consider which path you choose based on where you are at the foot of the mountain you are climbing.

What does the disciple achieve when the initiation has taken him to the summit up there? A very real thing. Remember the description of the human being. At the time of Christ Jesus, the majority of people had developed part of the astral body and part of the etheric body. It was different for the initiates. When the chela had passed the necessary stages, he was admitted to the initiation. He had to have worked through his entire astral body. There was nothing left in his astral body that he did not control. In general, passions rule over man, not man over passions. Man must be master of his desires and passions if he wants to become a disciple. Then he must work on his etheric body, he must transform the qualities of his temperament and bring it to the point where he can consciously change his movements, his gait, his writing. So it is not only about becoming moral, but one must become a completely different person.

When the entire astral body has been worked through by the I, it has become manas, the spiritual self, and is transformed into it. The transformation of the etheric body is called Budhi; he has become the spirit of life. When the initiate seizes the physical body for transformation, he then influences the planet and makes himself the center of cosmic forces; then he develops in himself Atman, the Father, the spiritual man.

At first it is an unconscious work that man does on his etheric body and his astral body. This takes place in the general process of human development. The chela begins to consciously take this work into his own hands. With unceasing practice, a certain moment is reached where the entire astral body is transformed. Then everything in the astral body can imprint itself into the etheric body. Only then may this happen, not before, because otherwise bad qualities would be imprinted. What has been acquired then goes through all incarnations with the causal body. The immortalization, the vitalization of all that the astral body contains, is an extremely important process. The astral body cannot discard this in any Kamaloka, it carries this with it forever. Therefore, the previous purification is very necessary.

The impressing of what the astral body contains into the etheric body was carried out in the old initiation by placing the disciple in a crypt and laying him in a kind of coffin. Sometimes he was also tied to a kind of cross and placed in a lethargic state, in which the etheric body emerged from the physical body at the same time as the astral body. Something similar, namely the emergence of a part of the etheric body, occurs when a limb falls asleep; one can then see the affected part of the etheric body hanging out of the body. The initiation itself was performed by a particularly high initiate. Much else was done according to prescribed rules. Such a sleep was different from an ordinary sleep. Only the physical body remained behind in the so-called coffin, and the etheric and astral bodies went out; so it was a kind of death. This was necessary to free the etheric body, because only then could the astral body imprint itself on the etheric body. This state lasted three and a half days. When the initiate was then directed by the initiator back to the physical body, one last formula was impressed upon him, with which he woke up. These were the words: “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!” that is, “My God, my God, how hast Thou glorified me!” At the same time, a certain star, Sirius in the Egyptian initiation, shone towards him. Now he had become a new man. There was a very specific reason why the completely spiritualized astral body was given a very special name: it was called the “virgin,” the “Virgin Sophia.” And the etheric body, which absorbs what the Virgin Sophia carried within herself, was called the “Holy Spirit.” And that which arose from both was the “Son of Man”. The proclamation and birth of Jesus of Nazareth are based on these mystery teachings.

This inner experience was also depicted in the image of the Holy Ghost as a dove hovering over the chalice. This is the moment described in the Gospel of John 1:32: “And John bore witness, saying, ‘I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on Him’.” Imagine this happening on the astral plane, and you have a real event. The one who was allowed to experience these great things outside of the mysteries in the physical world was allowed to initiate others as an initiator. John's Gospel 11, 1-45: the resurrection of Lazarus is nothing more than an initiation performed on Lazarus.

We cannot take the gospel of John deeply enough. Even the giving of names is something extremely important. The names that appear in the Bible are taken from the inner being of man. An example of this are the names of the twelve apostles. They point to the relationship between them and the Lord, the Christ, who is the head and has as a sign the ram or the lamb. John means the one who proclaims the Budhi. You can divide the human being into twelve parts; the whole human being is a twelve-fold being. The human being as he is now gradually came into being. Each time the sun entered a new constellation, a new organ developed in the human being. For example, when the sun was in the sign of Leo, the heart developed. As the human being ascends, he incorporates a group soul. The twelve parts of the human being can be found in the names of the twelve apostles, where they are incorporated. What the twelve constituent parts are in an ordinary body, that is what the twelve apostles signify in the collective body of Christ. The part that represents the ego, in which selfishness rules and brings about the death of Christ, is called Judas Iscariot. In this naming, it was added that he had the bag, the money, the lower principle of greed.

The significance of this naming can also be seen from the fact that the one who, in the great plan of the world, is the spiritual representative of the development of mankind, is given the name “the Son of Man”. His father is the “Holy Spirit” and his mother “the Virgin Sophia”. You can find this again in the Gospel of John 19:25-27, in the scene under the cross: “Woman, behold, your son!” “Behold, your mother!” The writer of the Gospel of John, the disciple whom Christ Himself initiated, took the wisdom and wrote the Gospel of John, which contains the wisdom of Christianity.

We must not forget that these things are facts, but as such they are the expression of profound spiritual realities.

[Beginning missing] Among the greatest of these upheavals is that of the outgoing Middle Ages. One after another, those ideas that had been taken for so long as an external expression of divine creative wisdom faded away. At the same time that the profound Meister Eckhart and the strong-minded Johannes Tauler were preaching to bear witness to the Christian God, who had risen in their hearts in new glory, the ingenious Roger Baco was pondering the workings of natural forces in a different way than the Middle Ages were accustomed to. The latter believed that they were giving this idea of God a new firmness when they showed how every human being spiritually relives his suffering, his death and his resurrection; the former pursued his deeds in the outer world with the acumen of the intellect and the tools of the physicist. And behold: these deeds looked different in this light than they had been believed for centuries. A rebirth of the “Word” was experienced in the meaningful writings of Jacob Böhme; but Copernicus and Kepler transformed the world view in which the creative power of this Word had been so long admired. Those who had first proclaimed the Word had different thoughts about the earth and the stars than those that were now imposed on the searching humanity. Was it not natural that with the doubt about their conception of the world, the associated conception of God and the soul also became shaky? Could one still have confidence in a writing about the nature of the spirit if this writing presented the deeds of the spirit in a way that one could no longer profess? And did not those who saw in this writing the guarantee of the salvation of their souls have to condemn the men who shook what they believed was intimately connected with this writing? Could what Roger Baco achieved in the mastery of the forces of nature come from the spirit of good, if he thereby intervened in the preaching of centuries? Nature seduced these minds to relate to the world differently than this proclamation had commanded them. The view had to arise that research in nature was “sin” and that the spirit that arises from such research is “devil”, as Goethe put it in precise words. The “spirit of nature” had been recognized in its contradiction to the higher spirit that makes its voice heard in the human heart. Faust, the ally of this spirit of nature, who put the Bible under the bench, had to fall prey to evil forces. Lucifer, this spirit of nature, which, like the “morning star”, should point to the sun in eternal harmony, seemed to fight the luminosity of this star. Human wisdom, from which the wisdom of God once originated, seemed to be its worst enemy. And so it has remained throughout the centuries. More and more, human wisdom shone into the eternal workings of the forces of nature. Just as God's creative power seemed to recede from the heavens when Galileo's telescope illuminated the infinite spaces, so in the nineteenth century this creative power seemed to recede from the wonderful structure of living beings when the microscope allowed a view into the forces by which they are built and when the striving gaze revealed the laws according to which the forms of the living are shaped. On the basis of his scientific discoveries, Newton had established a cold, sobering attraction where seraphim had once been. Attraction and natural law were to be viewed with understanding where it had been believed that the love of the seraphim for God moved the heavenly bodies around the Earth, proclaiming the glory of the Creator. Natural selection has displaced the great Darwin from where, according to earlier opinion, God's power of thought had placed species next to species in manifold perfection. Even Carl von Linné, the greatest naturalist of the eighteenth century, was still allowed to say: there are as many species of plants and animals as God originally created. In obedience to eternal, immutable laws, the new spirit of man allows the incomplete to develop out of the complete without the intervention of wisdom. What an evil companion this spirit has become for man in modern times! Lucifer, the morning star, Lucifer, the light-bearer, has changed from a guide to the Divine into a seducer to un-divine things. A barren and terrible faith it is that this Lucifer seems to have given to man. He points his telescope and shows him worlds that, according to their necessary laws, revolve around each other, and in their space the inquiring eye finds no space for the old God. He shows him the forces of life in the cell and in the human body, and promises to reveal to him one day how these laws shape the thoughts of the soul in the parts of the brain. And then this inquiring mind will no longer be able to find the old God in man's inner space either.

We must not blind our spiritual eyes to this process of development! We must not hide from ourselves the fact that the old way of belief and the new way of knowledge have brought about a world war in the hearts of men, which opens up a terrible perspective for the future. People who cover their eyes and form their judgments only according to what they want to see may be of the opinion that this old way of believing will again conquer the circles of the apostates. Those who look at the world with a free and open eye cannot form such a judgment. It fills them with fear and apprehension when they follow the battle between “belief” and “knowledge”. For he knows, he sees it daily, that in the course of the day the power of knowledge is the greater. He sees how, despite all the efforts of the “strong in faith,” a sober, soulless world view is being built up, conquering the masses, freezing the heart, and condemning man to despair of his “eternal destiny”.

These clear-sighted people also know that in the long run this world view will not prevail, that a higher view of God will shine over the earth again. But they also feel that man is not here to stand idly by and watch what happens without him; rather, he is called upon to shape the perfect out of the imperfect, the higher out of the lower. When the weak-willed and strong-in-faith tell us that God will lead people back to the light, then the strong-willed may reply: God's highest earthly tool is man, and he demands that this tool not fail. God's wisdom wants to work through human will. We are called to promote what God's counsel is in the world. We should not be lulled into a sense of complacency by the thought that what is to be will come to pass, but should cling to the search for what needs to be done in order to regain the lost spirit.

From the imperfect contemplation of nature, the great sages have taken the ideas with which they showed how the God who reveals Himself to them in their souls realizes His glory in the external world. These ideas have changed. Is it not perhaps only because of our weakness that we cannot find in our ideas what our ancestors found in theirs? In the book that Faust placed under the bench, these ancestors have told how they saw the ways of eternal wisdom. They too have read in the “book of nature”, and according to what was revealed to them there, they have clothed the inner word of God externally.

Our way of reading has certainly changed. But should the reading destroy the content? Could it not be that the new reading only bothers us for a while? Perhaps we have allowed ourselves to be numbed by the fact that the microscope has enlarged the space in which what previously escaped us is taking place, and the telescope has led us into spaces that previously only the imagination was allowed to inhabit. Could not an intensified power of the soul also find the spirit in the enlarged space, and also in the spaces that have been illuminated!?

You represent a materialistic world view and rely on Copernicus and Darwin. Your ancestors represented a spiritual world view and relied on Plato, Moses and Aristotle. You fight Plato, Moses and Aristotle and say that you rely on your reason, while your ancestors relied on the written word. But be honest and true to yourselves. Is your “reason” anything other than the “faith” of your ancestors? What they proclaimed about the Trinity of Father, Son and Spirit, they felt, and you call it “faith”; what Darwin and Haeckel say, you feel, and call it “reason.” And ask yourselves, how many of you have examined the paths by which your naturalists have arrived at their assertions? Just as few have followed the paths by which lonely soul researchers have come to the Trinity. You “believe” as they “believed”. And what you think you can deduce from your “reason” you have read in Haeckel's “natural history of creation” just as your ancestors read their ideas into the Bible.

One of those who, under the impression of the new natural science, fought the “old faith” (D. Fr. Strauß) said: “That from the belief in things, some of which are certain not to have happened, some of which are uncertain doubt as to whether they have happened, and only to the slightest extent beyond doubt that they have happened, that belief in such things should depend on man's salvation, is so absurd that it no longer needs refutation today."—No objection is to be raised here against this sentence. At most, that it is self-evident and banal. But the following sentence seems to be just as self-evident: That our entire happiness should depend on things observed through a telescope in outer space, where it is uncertain whether the ideas we associate with them are assumptions or not; and on other things that a naturalist has “overheard” through the microscope about the and of which we certainly do not know how they came to their existence, should depend on the entire happiness of man is so absurd that it should no longer require refutation in the shortest time.

Everything that is aimed at here was already said by the great Master Eckhart in the thirteenth century: What use is it to me that my brother is a rich man and I am a poor man; what use is it to me that so and so many years ago Christ suffered and rose again, if the true man does not rise in myself. Let the divine live in your own soul; do not let yourself be blinded by the telescope and microscope; find the highest in yourself, who is closer to you than the nebulae of outer space and clearer to you than the combinations of substances that the chemist calculates for you. But one thing is necessary for such a discovery. You must listen to the words of those who speak to you of the paths that lead to the matter, just as you listen to the astronomers who teach you about the Milky Way, and just as you pay attention to the zoologists who speak to you about the development of human germinal systems.

When Darwin and Haeckel speak, you listen with faith and form your world view according to their research. Far be it from us to take this belief away from you. Because we ourselves have this belief. We admire the eternal forces of nature in the sense of the “natural history of creation”. But why do you not listen just as attentively when the psychologist speaks to you of the laws of spiritual life? Why do you call him a fantasist when he tells you of the things that have been revealed to him, when he speaks of the destinies of the soul on the basis of his sure research methods, while you treat natural scientists differently? You cannot perceive within yourself what the psychologist tells you. But how many know from their own observation the germinal life of organisms? In order to really judge for themselves, they would first have to become acquainted with the extensive methods by which the natural scientist arrives at his results. Without doubt, they will admit this after some reflection. But few are willing to admit it today for the laws of intellectual life. But just as you cannot fully understand Haeckel without walking in his footsteps, you cannot understand the soul researcher without walking the paths he has walked. No amount of “reason” could give you the right to contradict Haeckel before you have learned how he arrived at his results; but do the same with the soul researchers. Then, and not before, may you speak of a rejection of what they say. But then you will no longer behave so contradictorily.

The paths of those who investigate spiritual life in their own way are much more difficult than those that lead to the external life of nature. But those who speak out against the results of spiritual researchers look no less strange than those who speak out against the results of germinal life without ever having observed an animal germ in its development.

This journal will deal with the facts of spiritual life. It demands nothing, absolutely nothing, of people, except that they approach it with the same attitude that countless people today approach natural scientists. Based on their own, deepest experience, perhaps only a few will be able to immediately verify some of what is said here. But is it any different with the facts of nature? However, no one can be excluded from the possibility of testing it.

And closer to us than any object in nature is what is being discussed here: the human spirit. What everyone here talks about is, after all, none other than the human spirit itself. It is the human spirit to which it is seemingly so close, and yet which it usually knows so little about. There are many who have little inclination to care for this human spirit. What the great Fichte says about them applies to them: the spirit, about which they care so little, will give them sunshine and rain, clothe and nourish them at the right time – for that is what their body demands; their spirit has not yet awakened, they do not care about it.

But for all those who are looking for the sun of the spirit, we want to speak up. We want to seek this sun behind the clouds, which only part when the much-misunderstood signs of the book are read correctly, which Faust once wanted to exchange with the Bible. We do not want to let the microscope or the telescope, the laws by which the planets revolve, or the material processes that we suspect under the skullcap, cloud our free spiritual view into the fate of souls. We want to be allies of science; but not slaves to its misunderstood conclusions, but companions who walk in spirit the paths that it follows in matter.

When a subject such as our present one is discussed from the standpoint of spiritual science, this is not done by basing the facts upon some document or other exposition come into being in the course of human development, and by then illuminating the facts in question on the authority of such a document. That is not the way of spiritual science. On the contrary, entirely independent of all documents, spiritual science investigates what has occurred in human evolution; and only then—after the spiritual scientist has completed his research by means independent of any documents, and knows how to describe what he has found—only then is the document in question examined with a view of discovering whether it agrees with what had first been disclosed without reference to any tradition whatever. So all the statements made in these lectures concerning the course of this or that event are by no means to be taken as merely deriving from the Bible, from one of the four Gospels, but rather as the conclusions arrived at by spiritual research independent of the Gospels. But no opportunity will be missed to show that everything the spiritual scientist can fathom and observe is to be found in the Gospels, particularly in the Gospel of St. John.

We have a curious utterance by the great mystic Jacob Boehme which puzzles all who are not in touch with spiritual science. Jacob Boehme once drew attention to his way of discussing past epochs in human evolution—say, the figure of Adam—as though they had been within the scope of his own experiences, and he said: “Many might ask, Were you then present when Adam walked the earth?” And Jacob Boehme answers unequivocally: “Yes, I was present.” Now, that is a noteworthy statement; for actually, spiritual science is in a position really to observe with the eyes of the spirit whatever has occurred, be it ever so far back; and in these introductory remarks I should like to touch briefly upon the reason for this.

Everything that happens in the physical sensorial world has, of course, its counterpart in the spiritual world. When a hand moves there is present not only what your eye sees as a moving hand, but behind this moving hand, this visible image of the hand, there are, for example, my thought and my will: the hand is to move. In short, a spiritual element underlies it all. But while the visible image, the sense impression of the hand motion, passes, its spiritual counterpart remains inscribed in the spiritual world and always leaves a trace; so if our spiritual eyes are opened we can trace all things that have happened in the world by the imprints left by their spiritual counterparts. Nothing can occur in the world without leaving such traces.

Suppose the spiritual scientist gazes back to Charlemagne, or to the time of Rome, or to Greek Antiquity: everything that took place there has been preserved in the spiritual world as imprints of its spiritual prototypes, and can be seen there. This seeing is called reading the akashic record. There exists this living script which the spiritual eye can see; and when the spiritual scientist describes the events of Palestine or the observation of Zarathustra he is not describing what is found in the Bible or in the Gathas, but what he himself is able to read in the akashic record. Only then does he investigate whether the disclosures of the akashic record are to be found in the documents as well—in our case, the Gospels.

The attitude, therefore, of spiritual research toward documents is wholly unhampered; and for this very reason spiritual research will be the true judge of what documents have to tell. But when we find the same information in the documents as we were able to glean from the akashic record we infer first, that the documents are true, and second, that someone must have written them who was also able to read in the akashic record. Many religious and other documents of the human race are retrieved by spiritual science in this way.—What has just been said shall now be clarified by the study of a special chapter in human evolution, the Gospel of St. John, and its relation to the other Gospels. But you must not imagine that the akashic record, the spiritual history which lies open like a book before the seer's eyes, resembles any script of the ordinary world. It is a living kind of script, and we will try to understand this through what is to follow.

Suppose the seer gazes back in time—say, to the time of Caesar. Caesar did certain deeds, and in so far as they occurred on the physical plane his contemporaries witnessed them. But they all left their traces in the akashic record; and when the seer looks back he sees them as spiritual shadow-pictures or prototypes.—Call to mind again the movement of the hand: as a seer you do not perceive the picture this presents to the eye, but you will always see the intention to move the hand, the invisible forces that move it. In the same way is to be seen everything that went on in Caesar's thoughts, be it certain steps he intended to take or some battle he planned. Everything seen by his contemporaries originated in the impulses of his will and was executed by the invisible forces underlying the sense images. But the latter really appear in the akashic record as the Caesar who moved and had his being, as the spiritual image of Caesar.

Here someone inexperienced in such matters might object: Your tales are nothing but day-dreams—you know from your history what Caesar did, and now your mighty imagination makes you believe you are seeing all sorts of invisible akashic pictures.—But those who have experience in these things know that the less familiar one is with such events through outer history, the easier it is to read in the akashic record; for outer history and a knowledge of it are actually confusing for the seer. When we have reached a certain age we are hampered by various aspects of our education connected with the age in which we live. In the same way the seer, equipped with the education provided by his epoch, arrives at the point when he can give birth to his clairvoyant ego. He has studied history; he has learned how things are handed down in geology, biology, archeology, and the history of culture. All this actually interferes with his vision and may bias him in his reading of the akashic record; for in outer history one can by no means expect to find the same objectivity and certainty that are to be achieved in deciphering the akashic record.

Consider for a moment what it is that causes this or that event to become what is called history: it may be that certain documents have been preserved relating to some events, while others—and perhaps the most important ones—have been lost. An example will show how unreliable all history can be. Among a number of poems Goethe had planned but did not finish—and for the deeper student these constitute a beautiful supplement to the great and glorious finished works he left us—there is the fragment of a poem on Nausicaa. There exist only a few sketches in which Goethe had noted how he intended to deal with this poem. He often worked that way, jotting down a few sentences of which frequently but little is preserved. That was the case with the Nausicaa. Now, there were two men who endeavored to complete this work, both of them research men: Scherer, the literary historian, and Herman Grimm. But Herman Grimm was not only a researcher but an imaginative thinker—the man who wrote The Life of Michelangelo and the Goethe. Herman Grimm went about the task by trying to find his way into Goethe's spirit, and he asked himself: Goethe being what he was, how would he have conceived of a figure like the Nausicaa of the Odyssey?—Whereupon, with a certain disregard of that historical document, he created a Nausicaa in the spirit of Goethe. Scherer on the other hand, who always sought what was to be found among the documents in black and white, argued that a Nausicaa begun by Goethe must be completed purely on the basis of the material available; and he, too, tried to construct a Nausicaa, but exclusively out of what these scraps of paper had to offer. Of this procedure Herman Grimm remarked: What if Goethe's servant used some of these scraps of paper—perhaps just the ones containing something very important—for Iighting the fire? Have we any guarantee that the surviving scraps of paper are of any value at all compared with those that may have been used for lighting the fire?

All history based on documents may be analogous to this illustration, and indeed it often is. When building on documents we must never lose sight of the possibility that just the most important ones may have perished. Indeed, what passes for history is nothing more nor less than a fable convenue. But when the seer is hampered by this convention and at the same time sees everything quite differently in the akashic record, it is difficult for him to have faith in the akashic picture; and the public will voice its resentment when he tells a different story out of the akashic record. Hence one who is experienced in these things likes best to speak of ancient times of which there exist no documents, of the remote stages in the evolution of our earth. There are no documents relating to those epochs; and that is where the akashic record reports most faithfully, because the seer is not confused by outer history.—You will be able to gather from these remarks that it could never occur to anyone familiar with these matters that the pictures provided by the akashic record might be an echo of what is already known to him from outer history.

If we now search the akashic record for the great event to which we alluded yesterday, we find the following salient points. The whole human race, in as far as it lives on the earth, is descended from a divine realm, from a divine-spiritual existence. It can be stated that before any possibility existed for a physical eye to see human bodies, for a hand to touch human bodies, man was present as a spiritual being; and in the earliest ages he existed as a part of the divine-spiritual beings: the Gods are the ancestors of men, so to speak, and men the descendants of the Gods. The Gods had need of men as their issue, because without them they would have been unable to descend, as it were, into the sensorial physical world. In that remote time the Gods had their being in other worlds, acting from without upon man who gradually evolved upon the earth.

And now men had to overcome, step by step, the obstacles placed in their path by their earth life. What is the nature of these obstacles? The aspect of evolution essential for mankind was the need for the Gods to remain spiritual, while men, as their descendants, became physical. All the obstacles presented specifically by physical existence had to be surmounted by man, who possessed spirit only as the inner phase of the physical, and who as an outer being had become physical. It was within the confines of material existence that he had to develop; and it was in this way that he progressed upward step by step, steadily maturing until he should become increasingly able to turn to the Gods in whom he had his genesis. A descent from the Gods, and then a turning back to them, in order to reach and re-unite with them, that is man's path through life on earth. But if this evolution was to come about, certain human individualities always had to develop more rapidly than the rest, to hurry on ahead in order to become their leaders and teachers. Such men, then, have their being in humanity's midst and find their way back to the Gods, as it were, in advance of others. We can picture it in this way: In a given epoch men have attained to a certain degree of maturity in their development. They may have the premonition of a return to the Gods, but they have a long way to go before achieving it. Every man has within him a spark of the divine, but in the leaders it is always brighter: they are closer to that divine principle to which man must ultimately attain again. And this that dwells in the leaders of mankind is perceived, by those whose eyes have been opened to the spirit, as their essence and chief attribute.

Let us suppose some great leader of mankind confronted another man, not his equal but above the average. The latter feels vividly that the other is a great leader, permeated to a high degree by the spirituality to which other men must eventually attain. How would such a man describe this leader? He might say: Before me stands a man, a man in a physical body like everyone else; but his physical body is negligible, it need not be taken into account. When, however, I observe him with the eye of the spirit, I see united with him a mighty spiritual being, a divine-spiritual being which predominates to such an extent that my whole attention is focussed on it—not on what appears as body which he has in common with others.

To spiritual sight, then, there appears in a leader of mankind something which in its nature towers above the rest of humanity, and which must be described in quite a different way: the description must be of what the spiritual eye sees. Nowadays public men whose word is law would undoubtedly be amused at the idea of such surpassing leaders of mankind: we already have the spectacle of various erudite scientists regarding the shining lights of humanity as psychiatric cases. Such a leader would only be recognized as such by those whose spiritual vision had been sharpened; but these would indeed know that he was neither a fool nor a visionary, nor simply a very gifted person, as the more benevolent might designate him, but rather, that he was among the greatest figures of human life in the spiritual sense.

That is the way it would be today; but in the past it was a different matter, even in the none too remote past. Human consciousness, as we know, has undergone various metamorphoses, and formerly all men were endowed with a dim, shadowy clairvoyance. Even at the time when Christ lived on earth clairvoyance was still developed to a certain degree, and in earlier centuries even more so, though it was but a shadow of the clairvoyance common in the Atlantean and the first post-Atlantean epochs. It disappeared only gradually. But a few isolated individuals still had it, and even today there are natural clairvoyants whose dim higher vision enables them to distinguish the spiritual nature of men.

Let us turn to the time in which Buddha appeared to the ancient Indian people. Conditions were very different at that time. Today the appearance of a Buddha, especially in Europe, would arouse no particular respect. But in those old days it was a different matter, for there were very many who could discern the true nature of the event, namely, that this Buddha birth meant a great deal more than does an ordinary birth. In oriental writings, especially in those treating the subject with the deepest understanding, the birth of Buddha is described in the grand manner, as one might put it. It is related that Queen Maya was “the image of the Great Mother”, and that it was foretold she would bring a mighty being into the world. This being was then born prematurely—a very common means of launching an outstanding being in the world, because thereby the human being in which the higher spiritual being is to incarnate is less closely amalgamated with matter than when the child is carried the full time of gestation. It is then further related in the notable records of the Orient that at the moment of birth Buddha was enlightened, that he opened his eyes at once and directed his gaze to the four points of the compass, to the north, south, east, and west. We are told that he then took seven steps, and that the marks of these steps are engraved in the ground he trod. It is further recorded that he spoke at once, and the words he spoke were these: “This is the life in which I shall rise from Bodhisattva to Buddha, the last incarnation I shall have to pass through on this earth!”

Strange as such a communication may appear to the materialistic-minded man of today, and impossible as it is to interpret offhand from a materialistic viewpoint, it is nevertheless the truth for one who is able to see things with the eye of the spirit; and at that time there still existed men who, by means of natural clairvoyance, could discern spiritually what it was that was born with Buddha. Those are strange excerpts I have quoted from the oriental writings: nowadays they are called legends and myths. But he who understands these things knows that something of spiritual truth is hidden therein; and events such as the Buddha birth have significance not only for the intimate circle of the personality in question but for the world as well, for they radiate spiritual forces, as it were. And those who lived at a time when the world was more receptive to spiritual forces perceived that at the birth of Buddha spiritual forces were actually rayed forth.

It would be a trivial question to ask: Why does that sort of thing not still occur today? As a matter of fact, it does happen; only it requires a seer to perceive it. It is not enough that there should be one to radiate these forces: there must also be someone there to receive them. When people were more spiritual than they are today they were also more receptive to such radiations. So again a profound truth underlies the story that healing and reconciling forces were at work when Buddha was born. It is not a legend but a report based on deep truths which tells us that when Buddha came into the world, those who had previously hated each other were now united in love, those who had quarreled now met with expressions of mutual esteem, and so forth.

To one who surveys the development of mankind with the eye of the seer this does not appear as it does to the historian—a level path, at most overtopped a bit here and there by figures accepted as historical. Men will not admit that spiritual peaks and mountains exist—that is more than they can bear. But the seer knows that there are lofty heights and mountains towering above the path of the rest of mankind: these are the leaders of humanity. Now, upon what is such leadership built? Upon having gradually passed through the stages leading to life in the spiritual world. One of these stages we pointed out yesterday as the most important one: the birth of the higher ego, the spiritual ego; and we said that this was preceded and followed by other stages. It is evident that what we designate the Christ event is the mightiest peak in the range of human evolution, and that a long preparation was indispensible before the Christ Being could incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth.

In order to understand this preparation we must visualize the same phenomenon on a smaller scale. Let us suppose a man starts on the path to spiritual cognition in any one of his incarnations—that is, he carries out some of the exercises (to be described later) which render the soul more and more spiritual, more receptive to what is spiritual, and guide it toward the moment when it bears the higher, imperishable ego that can see into the spiritual world. Many experiences are passed through before that moment arrives. One must not imagine that anything pertaining to the spirit can be hurried: everything of the sort must be absolved with patience and perseverance. Let us suppose, then, that someone starts a training of this kind. His aim is the birth of the higher ego, but he only succeeds in reaching a certain preliminary stage. Then he dies; and in due time he is born again. Here one of two things can happen: either he can feel the urge to seek a teacher who will show him how he can rapidly repeat what he had previously passed through and attain to the higher stages, or else, for one reason or another, he does not take this way. In the latter case, as well, the unfolding of his life will often be different from that of the lives of other men. The life of one who has trodden the path of enlightenment at all will quite of itself provide something resembling effects of the stage he had already reached in his previous incarnation. He will have experiences of a different nature, and the impression of these on him will be different from that received by other men. Then he will attain anew, by means of these experiences, to what he had previously achieved through his efforts. In his former incarnation he had to strive actively from step to step; but now that life brings him as a recurrence, so to speak, what he had once acquired through effort, this approaches him from without, as it were; and it may be that he will experience the results of his previous incarnations in quite a different form.

Thus it may happen that even in his childhood some experience can make upon his soul an impression of such a nature as to re-engender the forces he had acquired in his previous life. Suppose such a man had attained to a certain degree of wisdom in a given incarnation. He is then born again as a child, like everyone else. But at the age of seven or eight he has some painful experience, and the consequence is that all the wisdom he had once acquired comes to the fore again: he is back at the stage he had reached before, and thence can advance to the next one. Now we will suppose further that he endeavors to proceed another few steps, and dies again. In his next incarnation the same thing can happen again: once more some outer experience can put him to the test, as it were, again revealing first, what he had achieved in his next to the last incarnation, and then, in his last one. And now he can climb another step.

You will see from this that only by taking account of such events can we understand the life of one who had already passed through certain stages of development. There is one stage, for instance, that is soon reached by serious striving along the path of enlightenment: the stage of the so-called Wanderer, of him who has outgrown the prejudices of his immediate surroundings and has cast off the fetters imposed by his environment. This need not make him irreverent: we can become all the more reverent; but he must be free of the prejudices of his immediate surroundings. Let us assume that this man dies at a stage in which he has already worked his way through to a modicum of freedom and independence. When he is born again it can happen that comparatively early in his life some experience will re-awaken this feeling of freedom and independence in him. As a rule, this is the result of losing his father or someone else to whom he is closely bound; or it might be a consequence of his father's reprehensible behavior toward him—he might have cast him out, or something of the sort. All this is faithfully reported in the legends of the various peoples, for in matters of this kind the folk myths and legends are really wiser than is modern science. Among the legends you will often find the type in which the child is cast out, is found by shepherds, nourished and brought up by them, and later restored to his station (Chiron, Romulus and Remus). The fact that their own home plays them false serves to re-awaken in them the fruits of former incarnations. The legend of the casting out of Oedipus is in this category, too. You will now understand that the more advanced a man is—whether at the stage when his higher ego is born or even farther—the richer in experience his life must be if he is to be capable of a new experience, one he had not yet had.

He who was destined to embody in Himself the mighty Being we call the Christ could naturally not assume this mission at any random age: he had first to mature very gradually. No ordinary man could undertake this mission: it had to be one who in the course of many lives had attained to lofty degrees of initiation. What was here demanded is faithfully told us in the akashic record. This relates how a certain individuality had striven upward throughout many lives step by step to high degrees of initiation. Then this individuality was born again, and in this earthly embodiment passed first through preparatory experiences. But in this embodiment there lived an individuality who had already passed through high stages of initiation, an initiate destined in a later period of his life to receive into himself the Individuality of the Christ. And the first experiences of this initiate are repetitions of his former degrees of initiation, whereby all the previous achievements of his soul are re-evoked.

Now, we know that the human being consists of physical body, etheric body, astral body, and ego. But we also know that in the course of human life only the physical body is born at physical birth, and that up to the seventh year the etheric body is still enclosed in a sort of etheric maternal sheath which is then discarded, at the time of the change of teeth, in the same way as is the physical maternal sheath when the physical body is born into the outer physical world. Similarly, at puberty, an astral sheath is thrown off and the astral body is born. And approximately in the twenty-first year the ego is born, but again only gradually.

Having considered the birth of the physical body, of the etheric body in the seventh year, and of the astral body in the fourteenth or fifteenth year, we must similarly take into account a birth of the sentient soul, the intellectual soul, and the consciousness soul; and the ages at which these births occur are approximately the twenty-first, the twenty-eighth, and the thirty-fifth year respectively. From this it is evident that the Christ Being could not incarnate in a man of this earth, could not find room in such a man, before the intellectual soul was completely born: the Christ Being could not embody in the initiate into whom He was born before this initiate had reached his twenty-eighth year. Spiritual science confirms this. It was between the twenty-eighth and thirty-fifth years that the Christ Being entered the individuality who walked the earth as a great initiate, and who gradually, in the light and radiance of this great Being, unfolded all that otherwise man develops without this radiance, this light; namely, the etheric body, the astral body, the sentient soul, and the intellectual soul. Thus we can say that up to this age we see before us in him who was called to be the Christ bearer a lofty initiate who gradually passed through the experiences that finally evoked all he had undergone in previous incarnations—the sum of his conquests in the spiritual world. Only then could he say, Now I am here; now will I sacrifice all that I have. I no longer desire an independent ego, but will make of myself the bearer of the Christ: henceforth He shall dwell in me, shall fill me completely.

All four Gospels stress this moment when the Christ incorporated in a personality of this earth. However much they may differ in other respects, they all point to this event of the Christ slipping into the great initiate, as it were: the Baptism by John. In that moment, so clearly defined by the author of the John Gospel when he says that the Spirit descended in the form of a dove and united with Jesus of Nazareth, in that moment occurred the birth of Christ: as a new and higher Ego the Christ is born in the soul of Jesus of Nazareth. And the other ego, that of a great initiate, had now attained to the lofty plane on which it was ripe for this event.

And Who was it that was to be born in the Being of Jesus of Nazareth? This was indicated yesterday: the God Who was there from the beginning, Who had remained aloof in the spiritual world, so to speak, leaving mankind to its evolution. He it was Who descended and incarnated in Jesus of Nazareth. Can we find this indicated by the writer of the John Gospel? We need only take the words of the Gospel very seriously; and with this in mind let us read the beginning of the Old Testament:

In the (primordial) beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

Let us visualize the situation: The Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. Below, the earth with its kingdoms as the issue of the divine Spirit; and among these one individual evolves to the point of being able to take into himself this Spirit that moved upon the face of the waters. What does the author of the John Gospel say? He tells us that John the Baptist recognized the Being spoken of in the Old Testament. He says:

I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it abode upon him.

He knew that upon whomsoever the Spirit should descend was He that was to come: the Christ. There you have the beginning of world evolution: the Spirit moving upon the face of the waters; and there you have John who baptized with water, and the Spirit that in the beginning moved upon the face of the waters and now descends into the individuality of Jesus of Nazareth. It would be impossible to connect in a more grandiose way the event of Palestine with that other event, told at the beginning of the same document whose continuation is the Gospel.

But in other ways as well we find the John Gospel linked with this oldest of documents. The writer effects this by pointing out that with Jesus of Nazareth is merged the same principle that from the beginning worked creatively at all earth evolution. We know that the opening words of the Gospel of St. John read:

In the beginning was the Word (or Logos), and the Word (or Logos) was with God, and a God was the Word (or Logos).

What is this Logos, and in what sense was it with God? Let us turn to the beginning of the Old Testament, to the passage presenting this Spirit of whom it is written:

And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And the divine Spirit said, Let there be light: and there was light.

Let us keep that in mind and express it somewhat differently; let us listen to the divine Spirit intoning the creative Word through the world. What is this Word? In the beginning was the Logos, and the divine Spirit called out, and what the Spirit called out came to pass. That means that in the Word there was life; for had there been no life in it, nothing could have come to pass. And what was it that came to pass? We are told:

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

Turn back here to the John Gospel:

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

Now the Word had streamed into matter, where it became the outer form of the Godhead, as it were.

In it was life; and the life was the light of men.

In this way the author links his Gospel to that oldest of documents, the Book of Genesis. He refers to the same divine Spirit, only in different words. Then he makes it clear that this is the divine Spirit Who appears in Jesus of Nazareth. All four Evangelists agree that with the Baptism by John the Christ was born in Jesus of Nazareth, and that for the consummation of this event Jesus of Nazareth had needed comprehensive preparation. We must understand that everything previously told us concerning the life of Jesus of Nazareth is nothing but the sum of experiences portraying his ascent into the higher worlds during previous incarnations: the gradual preparation of everything embraced in his astral body, etheric body, and physical body for the eventual reception of the Christ.

The Evangelist who wrote the Gospel of St. Luke even says, somewhat paradigmatically, that Jesus of Nazareth had prepared himself in every respect for this great event, the birth of Christ in him. The individual experiences that led him upward to the Christ event will be discussed tomorrow. Today I shall merely point out that the author of the Luke Gospel told us in a single sentence that he who received the Christ into himself had indeed prepared himself in the previous years: that his astral body had achieved the virtue, nobility and wisdom indispensable for the birth of the Christ in him; and furthermore, that he had brought his etheric body to such a degree of maturity, and had developed such pliancy and beauty in his physical body, that the Christ could dwell in him.—One need only understand the Gospel aright. Take the second Chapter of Luke, verse 52. True, the wording of this verse in most of the Bible translations will not tell you what I just said. There it says:

And Jesus increased in wisdom and age¹, and in favor with God and man.

It would still make sense if such a man as the writer of the Luke Gospel had related of Jesus of Nazareth that he increased in wisdom; but when he reports as a solemn fact that he increased in age—well, that is not clear on its face, for it is a circumstance calling for no special emphasis. That it is nevertheless mentioned suggests that something more must be involved. Let us examine the verse in question in the original text:

Kai Jesous proekopten en to Sophia, kai helekia kai chariti Para theo kai anthropois.

As a matter of fact, here is what this means: “He increased in wisdom” signifies that he developed his astral body; and anyone who knows what the Greek mind associated with the word helekia can tell you that the term refers to the development of the etheric body, whereby wisdom gradually becomes skill. As you know, the astral body develops the qualities called upon for individual occasions: we understand something once and for all. The etheric body, on the other hand, shapes what it develops into habits, inclinations, and capabilities. This occurs by means of constant repetition. Wisdom becomes a habit: it is practised because it has become second nature. So what this "increase in age" means is an increase in maturity: just as the astral body has grown in wisdom, so the etheric body has increased in pure habits in the realm of goodness, nobility, and beauty. And the third quality that increased in Jesus of Nazareth, charis, really means that which manifests itself and becomes visible as beauty. No other translations are right. In translating this verse we must indicate that Jesus gained in gracious beauty; in other words, that his physical body, too, grew in beauty and nobility.

And Jesus increased in wisdom (in his astral body), in maturity of disposition (in his etheric body), and in gracious beauty (in his physical body), in a way manifest to God and man.

There you have the delineation given by St. Luke. Clearly, he knew that he who was to receive the Christ into himself had first to develop the threefold sheath—physical body, etheric body, and astral body—to its highest capacity.

In this way we shall learn how one can rediscover in the Gospels what spiritual science tells us independent of them. For this reason spiritual science constitutes a cultural current capable of recapturing the religious documents; and this recapture will not remain a mere milestone in human knowledge and cognition, but will stand as a conquest of soul and mind in the realm of feeling and sentience. And that is precisely the sort of understanding we need if we are to grasp the intervention of the Christ in the evolution of humanity.

• 1. In Luther's translation “age” is the word that corresponds to the “stature” of our King James version. It is retained here in order to avoid altering the term adhered to by Dr. Steiner.

If you were in the Cathedral last night you could have seen written there in illuminated lettering: C. M. B. As you will all know, these letters represent the names of the so-called Three Holy Kings, according to the tradition of the Christian Church: Caspar, Melchior, Balthasar. These names awaken quite special memories for Cologne. An old legend tells us that some time after they had become bishops and died their bones had been brought here. Another legend relates that a Danish king had once come to Cologne, bringing with him three crowns for the Three Holy Kings. After he had returned home he had a dream; in his dream the three kings appeared to him and offered him three chalices: the first chalice contained gold, the second frankincense, and the third one myrrh. When the Danish king awoke the three kings had vanished, but the chalices remained; they stood before him; the three gifts which he had retained from his dream.

In this legend there is profound meaning. We are to understand that the king in his dream attained a certain insight into the spiritual world by which he learnt the symbolic meaning of these three kings, these three wise men of the East who brought offerings of gold, frankincense and myrrh at the birth of Christ Jesus. And from this realisation he retained a lasting possession: those three human virtues which are symbolised in the gold, the frankincense and the myrrh: self-knowledge in the gold; self-piety, that is the piety of the innermost self—which we can call self-surrender—in the frankincense; and in the myrrh self-consummation and self-development, or the preservation of the eternal in the self.

It was possible for the king to receive these three virtues as gifts from another world because he had endeavoured to penetrate with his whole soul into the profound symbol lying concealed in the three kings who brought their offerings to Christ Jesus.

There are many features in this legend which lead us a long way towards understanding the Christ-principle, and what it is to bring about in the world. Among its profound features are the Adoration and the Presentation by the three Magi, the three Oriental Kings, and only with the deepest understanding may we approach this fundamental symbolism of the Christian tradition. Later the idea was formed that the first king was the representative of the Asiatic races; the second, the representative of the European peoples; and the third, the representative of the African races. Wherever people wanted to understand Christianity as the religion of earthly harmony they saw in the three kings and their homage a union of the different lines of thought and religious movements in the world into the One principle, the Christian principle. When this legend received this form those who had penetrated into the principles of esoteric Christianity saw in Christianity not only a force which had affected the course of human development, but they saw in the Being embodied in Jesus of Nazareth a cosmic world-force—a force far transcending the merely human that prevails in this present age. They saw in the Christ-principle a force that indeed represents for mankind a human ideal lying in a far distant future, an ideal which can only be approached by our understanding the whole world more and more in the spirit. They saw in man, in the first place, a miniature being, a miniature world, a microcosm, an image of the macrocosm, the great, all-embracing world. This macrocosm comprises all that man can perceive with his external senses, see with his eyes, hear with his ears, but comprises, besides, all that the spirit could perceive from the perceptions of the least developed human spirit up to perceptions in the spiritual world. This was how the esoteric Christian of the earliest times regarded the world. All he saw in the firmament or on our earth, all he saw as thunder and lightning, as storm and rain, as sunshine, as the course of the stars, as sunrise and sunset, as moonrise and the setting of the moon—all this was for him a gesture, something like a mimicry, an external expression of inner spiritual processes. The esoteric Christian looks on the universe as he looks on the human body. When he looks on the human body he sees it as consisting of different limbs: the head, arms, hands, and so on. When he looks on the human body and sees the movements of hand, eye, etc., these are for him the expression of the inner spiritual and psychic experiences. In the same way as he looked through the human limbs, and their movements, into that which is eternal, spiritual in man, the esoteric Christian regarded the movements of the stars, the light that streams down from the stars to humanity, the rising and setting of the sun, the rising and setting of the moon, as the external expression of divine-spiritual Beings pervading all space. All these natural phenomena were to him deeds of the gods, gestures of the gods, expressions in mime of those divine-spiritual Beings, as also was everything that occurs among mankind, when people establish social communities, when they submit to moral commandments and regulate their dealings through laws, when from the forces of nature they create instruments for themselves. These implements, indeed, they make with the help of the forces of nature, but in a form in which they are not to be found directly. All that was done in humanity, more or less unconsciously, was for the esoteric Christian the external expression of inner divine-spiritual sway. But the esoteric Christian did not confine himself to such general forms, he pointed to quite definite single gestures, single parts of the physiognomy of the universe, of the mimes of the universe, in order to see in these single parts quite definite expressions of the spiritual. When he pointed to the sun he said: The sun is not merely an external, physical body; this external, physical solar body is the body of a spiritual-psychic Being; one of those psychic-spiritual Beings who are the rulers, the leaders of all earthly fate, the leaders of all natural occurrences on the earth, but also of all that happens in human, social life, in the relationship of men among each other as determined by laws. When the esoteric Christian looked up to the sun he revered in the sun the external revelation of his Christ. In the first place the Christ was for him the sun's soul, and the esoteric Christian said: “From the beginning the sun was the body of the Christ, but men on earth and the earth itself were not yet matured for receiving the spiritual light, the Christ-light, which streams from the sun. Men had, therefore, to be prepared for the Christ-light.”

Then the esoteric Christian looked up at the moon and saw that the moon reflects the light of the sun, but more feebly than the sun's light itself; and he said to himself: “If I look with my physical eyes into the sun I am dazzled by its shining light; if I look into the moon I am not dazzled; it reflects in a feebler degree the shining light of the sun.” In this subdued sunlight, in this moonlight, pouring down on the earth, the esoteric Christian saw the physiognomical expression of the old Jehovah-principle, the expression of the religion of the old law. And he said: “Before the Christ-principle, the Sun of Righteousness, could appear on earth, the Jahve-principle had to send down on earth this light of righteousness, toned down in the Law, to prepare the way.” And so what lay in the old Jehovah-principle, in the old Law—the spiritual light of the moon—was for the esoteric Christian the reflected spiritual light of the higher Christ-principle. And with the pupils of the ancient Mysteries the esoteric Christian—until far into the Middle Ages—saw in the sun the expression of the spiritual light ruling the earth, the Christ-light, and in the moon the expression of the reflected Christ-light, which would blind man in its full strength. And in the earth itself the esoteric Christian saw with the pupils of the ancient mysteries that which at times disguised, and veiled for him, the blinding sunlight of the spirit. And for him the earth was just as much the physical expression of a spirit as was every other bodily form an expression of something spiritual. He imagined that when the sun looked visibly down on the earth, when it sent down its rays, beginning in the Spring and continuing through the summer, and called forth from the earth all the budding and sprouting life, and when it had culminated in the long summer days—then the esoteric Christian imagined that the sun cherished and maintained the external, up-shooting life, the physical life. In the plants, springing from the soil, in the animals unfolding their fertility in these seasons, the esoteric Christian saw the same principle, in an external, physical form, that he saw in the Beings whose external expression the sun was. But when the days became shorter, when autumn and winter approached, the esoteric Christian said: the sun withdraws its physical power more and more from the earth. But in the same degree as the sun's physical power is withdrawn from the earth, its spiritual power increases and flows to the earth most intensively when the shortest days come, with the long nights, in the season afterwards fixed by the Christmas festival. Man cannot see this spiritual power of the sun. He would see it, said the esoteric

Christian, if he possessed the inner power of spiritual vision. And the esoteric Christian had still a consciousness of what was a fundamental conviction and experience of the Mystery-pupils from the earliest times into the newer age.

In those nights, now fixed by the festival of Christmas, the Mystery-pupils were prepared for the experience of inner spiritual vision, so that they could see inwardly, spiritually, that which at this time withdrew its physical power from the earth most completely. In the long Christmas winter night the novice was far enough advanced to have a vision at midnight. The earth was then no longer a veil for the sun, which stood behind the earth. It became transparent for him. Through the transparent earth he saw the spiritual light of the sun, the Christ-light. This fact, which marks a profound experience for the mystery-novice, was recorded in the expression: To see the sun at midnight.

There are places where the churches, otherwise open all day, are closed at noon. This is a fact which connects Christianity with the traditions of ancient religious faiths. In ancient religious faiths the Mystery-pupils said, on the strength of their experience: “At noon, when the sun stands highest, when it unfolds the strongest physical power, the gods are asleep, and they sleep the deepest sleep in summer, when the sun develops its strongest physical power. But they are widest awake on Christmas night, when the external physical power of the sun is weakest.”

We see that all forms of life which desire to unfold their external physical power look up to the sun when the sun rises in the sky in Spring and strive to receive the external physical power of the sun. But when, on a summer noon, the sun's physical power pours most lavishly on to the earth, its spiritual power is weakest. In the winter midnight, however, when the sun rays the least physical power down to the earth, man can see the sun's spirit through the earth, which has become transparent for him. The esoteric Christian felt that through absorption in Christian Esotericism he approached more and more that power of inward vision through which he could imbue his feeling, thinking and his will-impulses in gazing into this spiritual sun. Then the Mystery-novice was led to a vision of the greatest importance: As long as the earth is opaque the separate parts appear inhabited by people of different confessions, but the unifying bond is not there. Human races are as scattered as the climates. Human opinions are scattered all over the earth and there is no connecting link. But in the degree in which men begin to look through the earth into the sun by their inner power of vision, in the degree in which the “star” appears to them through the earth, their confessions will flow together to one great united Brotherhood. And those who guided the great separated human masses in the truth of the higher planes, towards their initiation into the higher worlds, were known as “Magi.” They were three in number, as in the various parts of the earth various powers express themselves. Humanity had, therefore, to be led in different ways. But as a unifying power there appears the star, rising beyond the earth. It leads the scattered individuals together, and then they bring offerings to the physical embodiment of the solar star, appearing as the star of peace. Thus was the religion of peace, of harmony, of universal peace, of human brotherhood, connected cosmically and humanly with the ancient Magi, who laid the best gifts that they had in store for humanity before the cradle of the Son of Man incarnate.

The legend has retained this beautifully, for it says: The Danish king attained an understanding of the Wise Men, of the three Kings, and because he had attained it they bestowed on him their three gifts: first the gift of wisdom, in self-knowledge; secondly, the gift of pious devotion, in self-surrender; and, thirdly, the gift of the victory of life over death, in the power and development of the eternal in the self.

All those who have understood Christianity in this way have seen in it the profound idea in spiritual science of the unification of religions. For they had the firm conviction that whoever understands Christianity thus can rise to the highest grade of human development.

One of the last of the Germans to understand Christianity in this way is Goethe, and Goethe has laid down for us this kind of Christianity, this kind of religious reconciliation, this kind of theosophy, in the profound poem, The Mysteries, which has, indeed, remained a fragment but which shows us in a deeply significant way the inner spiritual development of one who is penetrated and convinced by the feelings and ideas that I have just described. Goethe first invites us to follow the pilgrim-path of such a man, but indicates that this pilgrim-path may lead us far astray, that it is not easy to find it, and that one must have patience and devotion to reach the goal. Whoever possesses these will find the light that he seeks. Let us hear the beginning of the poem:—

A wondrous song is here prepared for many.
Hear it with joy! Tell all from far and near!
The way will lead you out o'er mount and valley;
Now is the view obscured, now wide and clear,
And if the path should glide into the bushes,
That you have gone astray, you need not fear,
For by a persevering, patient climb
We shall draw near our goal, when it is time.

But no one will, despite profound reflection,
Unravel all the wonders hidden here:
Our mother earth brings forth so many flowers,
And many shall find something to revere;
Maybe that one will gloomily forsake us,
Another stays with gestures full of cheer:
For many wand'ring pilgrims flows the spring,
To each a different pleasure it will bring.

This is the situation to which we are introduced. We are shown; a pilgrim who, if we were to ask him, would not be able to say in formal words what we have just seen to be the esoteric Christian idea—but a pilgrim in whose heart and soul these ideas live, transformed into feeling. It is not easy to discover everything that has been secreted into this poem called The Mysteries. Goethe has clearly indicated a process occurring in human life, in which the highest ideas, thoughts and conceptions are transformed into feelings and perceptions. How does this transformation take place?

We live through many embodiments, from incarnation to incarnation. In each one we learn things of many kinds; each one is full of opportunities for gathering new experiences. It is impossible for us to carry over from one incarnation to the other everything in every detail. When we are born again it is not necessary for everything that we have once learnt to come to life in every detail. But if we have learnt a great deal in one incarnation, and die and are born anew, although there is no need for all our ideas to live again, we come to life with the fruits of our former life, with the fruits of what we have learnt. The powers of perception and feeling are in accord with our earlier incarnations.

In this poem of Goethe's we have a wonderful phenomenon: a man who, in the simplest words—as a child might speak, not in definite intellectual or abstract terms—shows us the highest wisdom, which is a fruit of former knowledge. He has transformed this knowledge into feeling and experience and is thereby qualified to lead others who have perhaps learnt more in the form of concepts. Such a pilgrim, with a ripe soul, which has transformed into direct feeling and experience much of the knowledge which it has gathered in earlier incarnations—such a pilgrim we have before us in Brother Mark. As a member of a secret Brotherhood he is sent out on an important mission to another secret Brotherhood. He wanders through many different districts, and when he is getting tired he comes to a mountain. He journeys up the path at last—(every feature in this poem has a deep significance)—and when he has climbed the mountain he finds himself before a monastery. This monastery here indicates the other Brotherhood to which he has been sent. Over the gate of the jnonastery he sees something unusual. He sees the Cross, but in unusual guise; the cross is garlanded with roses! And at this point he utters a significant word that only he can understand who knows how again and again that motto has been spoken in secret Brotherhoods: “Who added to the Cross the wreath of Roses?” And round the Cross he sees the Triangle shine, radiating beams like the sun. There is no need for him to understand in ideas the meaning of this profound symbol. The experience and understanding of it live already in his soul, in his ripe soul. His ripe soul knows its inner meaning. What is the meaning of the Cross? He knows that the Cross is a symbol for many things; among many others, for the threefold lower nature of man; the physical body, the etheric body and the astral body. In him the “I,” the Self is-born. In the Rose-Cross we have the fourfold man: in the Cross the physical man, the etheric man and the astral man, and in the roses the Self. Why roses for the Self?—the esoteric Christian added roses to the Cross because by the Christ principle he felt called upon to develop the Self more and more from the state in which it is born in the three bodies, to an ever higher Self. In the Christ-principle he saw the power to develop this Self higher and higher. The Cross is the symbol of death in a quite particular sense. This, too, Goethe expresses in another beautiful passage when he says:

And until thou truly hast
This “dying and becoming,”
Thou art but a troubled guest
O'er the dark earth roaming.

“Die and be re-born”—overcome what you have first been given in the three lower bodies: deaden it, not out of a desire for death, but purify what is in these three bodies so as to attain in your Self the power to receive an ever greater perfection. If you overcome what is given you in the three lower bodies, the power of consummation will live in the Self. In the Self must the Christian absorb in the Christ-principle this power of consummation down to the very blood. Right into the blood this power must work.

Blood is the expression of the Self, the “I.” In the red roses the esoteric Christian saw the power of the Christ-principle purifying and cleansing the blood, thus purifying the Self, and so guiding man upwards to his higher being—he saw the power that transforms the astral body into the Spirit Self, the etheric body into the Life-Spirit, the physical body into Spirit Man. Thus the Rose-Cross in its connection with the triangle shows us the Christ-principle in profound symbolism. The pilgrim, Brother Mark, who arrives here, knows that he is at a place where the profoundest meaning of Christianity is understood.

Full weary by a long and tiring journey,
With a sublimest motive underta'en,
A pilgrim, brother Mark, came through the thicket,
With staff in hand, his footsteps to sustain,
And longing for a little food and drinking,
One beauteous eve he reached a quiet plain.
Its wooded gorges soothing hope bestowed
Beneath a friendly roof to find abode.

But lo! a path he scarcely can distinguish,
High up a mountain steep before him wending.
He follows it, as more and more it rises,
In curvings in and out the boulders bending,
Until again by sunlight warm enveloped,
He turns and sees how fast he is ascending.
At last the summit comes within his sight,
Inspiring him with heart-felt, deep delight.

Next it the sun, majestic in its setting,
Enthroned 'mong clouds within the dark'ning sky.
Now for the peak! For all his weary toiling
He hopes to be rewarded there on high.
O'erlooking all the country 'fore him spreading,
A human home he will perchance espy.
And while he climbs, oh sound how full of cheer!
The chime of bells is wafted to his ear.

And as at length he has attained the summit,
Below a softly sloping valley lies.
His quiet look with inward pleasure brightens;
Before the forest full of joy he spies
A stately building in a greening field,
Which the departing sun with lustre dyes.
E'er long he nears through meadows dewy damp
A monastery lit with gleaming lamp.

He soon arrives outside the quiet homestead,
With hope and peacefulness his soul enfolding,
And on the arch above the closed portal
A symbol full of mystery beholding.
He stands and ponders, whispers words of prayer,
The deep devotion of his heart unfolding;
He ponders long: What does this sign convey?
The sun has set, the chiming dies away.

The sign he sees erected here on high
That brings consoling hope to all mankind,
Which many thousands pledged their lives to shield,
To which in fervour prayed the human mind,
That has destroyed the bitter powers of death,
On victors' banners fluttered in the wind:
A stream of comfort permeates his being,
He sees the cross and bows his head in seeing.

He feels anew the faith of all on earth,
The power of salvation streaming thence;
But as he looks, he feels his very soul
Pervaded by a new and unknown sense:
Who added to the cross the wreath of roses?
It is entwined by blooming, clusters dense,
Profusely spreading just as though they could
Endow with softness e'en the rigid wood.

While light and silv'ry clouds, around it soaring,
Seem heavenward with cross and roses flowing,
And from the midst like living waters streaming
A threefold ray from out one core is glowing;
But not a word surrounds the holy token,
The meaning of the symbol clearly showing.
And while the dusk is gath'ring grey and greyer,
He stands and ponders and is lost in prayer.

The spirit of deepest Christianity which pervades this dwelling is expressed in the cross entwined by roses, and as the pilgrim enters he is actually received in this spirit. When he enters he becomes aware that in this house not this or that religion holds sway—but that there rules here the higher Oneness of the religions of the world. Within this house he tells an old member of the Brotherhood that lives there at whose behest and on what mission he has come. He is made welcome and hears that in this house there lives in perfect seclusion a Brotherhood of twelve Brothers. These twelve Brothers are representatives of different human races from all over the earth; every one of the Brothers is the representative of a religious faith. None is accepted here in the un-ripeness of youth, but only when he has explored the world, when he has struggled with the joys and sorrows of the world, when he has “worked and been active in the world and won his way to a free survey beyond his narrowly confined domain. Only then is he placed and accepted in the circle of the Twelve. And these Twelve, of whom each one represents one of the world religions, live here in peace and harmony together. For they are led by a thirteenth who surpasses them all in the perfection of his human Self, who surpasses them all in his wide survey of human circumstances. And how does Goethe indicate that he is the representative of true Esotericism? Goethe indicates, by the words the Brother speaks, that he is the bearer of the religion of the Rosy Cross. He said: “He was among us; now we are in deepest sorrow because he is about to leave us; he wishes to part from us. But he finds it right to part from us even now; he desires to rise to higher regions, where he no longer needs to reveal himself in an earthly body.”

He is worthy to rise. For he has risen to the point that Goethe describes with the words: “In every religion there is the possibility of attaining the highest purity.” When each of the twelve religions is ripe to form a basis of harmony, the Thirteenth, who has before brought about this harmony externally, can pass away. And we are beautifully told how we can achieve this consummation of the Self. First, the life-story of the Thirteenth is related; but the Brother who has received Mark knows many details, which the great Leader of the Twelve cannot tell himself. Several features of profound esoteric significance are now recounted by one of the Twelve to Brother Mark. He learns that when the Thirteenth was born a star appeared to herald his life on earth. Here there is a direct connection with the star which guided the three holy kings, and with its inner meaning. This star has an enduring significance: it shows the way to self-knowledge, self-surrender and self-consummation. It is the star which opens the mind for the gifts which the Danish king received from the vision in his dream, the star which appears at the birth of anyone ripe enough to absorb the Christ-principle. And there were other signs. There were signs showing that he had developed to that height of religious harmony which brings the peace and harmony of the soul. Profoundly symbolical in this sense is the vulture which swoops down at the birth of the Thirteenth, but instead of destroying it spreads peace around it among the doves. We are told still more. While his little sister is lying in the cradle a viper winds itself round her. The Thirteenth, still a child, kills the viper. Hereby is wonderfully indicated how a ripe soul—for only a ripe soul can achieve such a thing after many incarnations—kills the viper in early childhood: that is to say he overcomes the lower astral nature. The viper is the symbol for the lower astral nature; the sister is his own etheric body, round which the astral body winds itself. He kills the viper to save his sister. Then we are told how he submitted obediently to every demand of his parents. He obeyed his stern father. The soul transforms its knowledge into ideas and thoughts; then healing-powers develop in the soul and can bring healing into the world. Miraculous powers develop: they are represented by the sword with which he strikes a spring out of the rock. We are here definitely shown how his soul follows the path of the Scriptures. Thus gradually there develops the higher man, the representative of humanity, the Chosen one, who works as the Thirteenth here, in the society of the Twelve, the great secret Brotherhood which, under the sign of the Rose-Cross has taken upon itself for all mankind the mission of harmonising the religions scattered in the world. This is how we are made acquainted, in a profound, manner, with the soul-nature of that one who has until now guided the Brotherhood of the Twelve.

At last he knocks. The myriad stars above him
Look down with shining eyes as they appear.
The portal opes, and he is bidden welcome
By brethren wont to comfort and to cheer.
So he relates how far by hill and valley
The will of higher Beings led him here.
They stand amazed, for well they see their guest
Was sent to them by heavenly behest.

They crowd around him, and their inmost being
They feel by a mysterious power stirred,
Their breath they hold to listen, for he rouses
An echo in their hearts with ev'ry word.
Like deepest lore, yet uttered by a child,
The wisdom flowing from his lips is heard:
He seems so innocent, like crystal clear,
As though descended from another sphere.

At last an aged brother cries: Oh welcome,
If with consoling hope thy path is blessed!
Thou seest us, our souls are moved within us
By thee, and yet we can but stand oppressed:
Our greatest bliss from us is being taken,
Anxiety and dread disturb our rest.
Thou comest as a stranger, yet to share
Portentous hours of mourning and of care:

For he, alas! who all of us united,
To whom as father and as friend we bow,
Who light and fortitude within us kindled—
Our leader—is prepared to leave us now.
Yea, he himself his passing has predicted,
Refusing though to tell us when and how:
The mystery of what must needs befall
Brings bitter tribulation to us all.

Thou seest us grey and aged ev'ry one,
By nature destined for repose and rest:
Not one was here admitted who, a youth,
Desired to fly from wordly joy and zest.
Each one has met with life's vicissitudes,
Its burdens, pleasures and its anxious quest,
Until, matured, too old to longer roam,
Within these walls we found a shelt'ring home.

The noble man who led us to this haven,
Within his heart the peace of God does dwell;
Along the path of life we walked together,
His ev'ry action I remember well;
But now his fervent praying, his seclusion,
The hour of his departing must foretell.
How small is man! Oh would that he could give
His life, so that a greater one might live!

This is my heart's profound and only wish!
Fulfilment is denied to my desire.
How many have preceded me in death!
How bitter is the thought he must expire.
Had he been here, with hearty welcome's warmth
He would have given all thou didst require;
But now in spirit-regions dwells his mind,
Already far from those he leaves behind.

Each day one hour he lingers in our midst
And speaks to us, by strange emotion stirred:
The wondrous paths that Providence has led
Within his life he lauds with ev'ry word;
We hark and heed, for after-ages hoarding
With care the merest trifle that occurred,
While one writes down his words to make us sure
His memory shall live both true and pure.

I hear him speak, but oh, how much there is
That I would rather far myself relate,
For all is still alive within my mind,
The least of circumstances I would state;
Impatiently I list, can scarce conceal
How sore it is thus silently to wait:
One day I shall no more restrain my zeal,
The splendours of this beauteous life reveal.

I should disclose how first an angel's voice
His coming to his mother prophesied,
And how, when he was christened, in the sky
A star with brilliant lustre was descried,
How down a vulture swooped with mighty wings
To settle by the gentle pigeons' side,
But not to pounce on them in greedy wildness,
A harbinger he seemed of peace and mildness.

How as a child a viper he destroyed,
This is a miracle he ne'er has told.
He found his sister peacefully asleep,
The clinging reptile round her arm was rolled.
The nurse had fled and left the babe alone,
He killed the pois'nous snake, resolved and bold;
His mother came and saw the daring deed
And thrilled with joy she found her daughter freed.

He ne'er related that a spring arose
From out the barren rock before his sword,
And as a brook, with rippling waves alive,
Its plenteous waters down the hill-side poured;
E'en now, as quick as forth it gushed at first,
It bickers silver sparkling o'er the sward.
But those who saw the wondrous stream appear,
Dared not to drink, o'ercome by solemn fear.

For when a man excels by gifts of nature,
It is no wonder if his life is blessed;
In him we worship the Creator's power,
Through feeble human clay made manifest;
But he who overcomes himself has gained
The greatest triumph, stood the hardest test,
And well may he to all the world be shown:
Yea, this is he, this deed is his alone!

With all our strength we strive to live and labour,
Where'er by fate our twisting paths be wended;
Whereas the world oppresses, e'er impeding,
And seeks to tear us from the way intended;
Within this inner storm and outer struggle
Our spirit hears a word scarce comprehended:
The power that holds constrained all humankind
The victor o'er himself no more can bind.

This man who had overcome himself, that is, who had overcome that ego which is man's portion at first, has become the Head of the chosen Brotherhood. And thus he leads the Twelve. He has led them to a point at which they are matured enough for him to leave them. Our Brother Mark is then conducted further to the rooms where the Twelve work. How do they work? Their activity is of an unusual kind, and we are told that it is an activity in the spiritual world. A man whose eyes observe only physically, whose senses experience only the physical plane, and only what is done by people in the physical world, cannot easily imagine that there is still another task which may even be far more vital and important than what is done externally on the physical plane. Work from the higher planes is far more important for mankind. Naturally, whoever wishes to work on the higher planes can only do so on condition that he has first completed the tasks of the physical plane. These Twelve had done so. For this reason their combined activity is of great importance as a service to mankind.

Our Brother Mark is led into the hall where the Twelve were accustomed to assemble, and there he sees in deep symbolic guise the nature of their combined activity. The individual contribution of each of the Brothers to this combined activity is expressed by an individual symbol above the seat of each one of the Twelve. Symbols of many kinds are to be seen there, expressing profoundly and in very different ways the contribution of each to the common task, which consists in spiritual activity, so that these streams flow together into a current of spiritual life which flows through the world and invigorates the rest of mankind. There are such brotherhoods, such centres from which such streams emanate and have their effect on the rest of mankind.

Above the seat of the Thirteenth, Brother Mark again sees the sign: the cross entwined with roses; this sign, which is at the same time a symbol for the four-fold nature of man, and in the red roses the symbol of the purified Blood or ego-principle, the principle of the higher man. And then we see what is to be overcome by this sign of the Rose-Cross, portrayed in a symbol of its own, to the right and left of the seat of the Thirteenth. On the right Mark sees the fiery-coloured dragon, representing the astral nature of man. It was well known in Christian Esotericism that man's soul can surrender to the three lower bodies. If it succumbs to them it is dominated by the lower life of the threefold bodily nature. This is expressed in astral experience by the dragon. It is no mere symbol but a very real sign. The dragon represents what has first to be overcome. In the passions, in those forces of astral fire, which are part of man's physical nature, in this dragon, Christian Esotericism, which has inspired this poem and which has spread through Europe, saw what mankind has received from the torrid zone, from the South. It is the South that has bestowed on mankind the fierce passion, tending chiefly towards the lower senses. The first impulse to fight and overcome it was divined in the influences streaming from the cooler North. The influence of the cooler North, the descent of the Ego into the threefold physical nature of man, is expressed according to the old symbol taken from the Constellation of the Bear and shows a hand thrust into the jaws of a bear. The lower physical nature expressed by the fiery dragon is overcome; and what has been preserved, represented by the higher rank of animal life, was expressed in the bear; and the Ego, which has developed beyond the dragon nature, was represented with profound appropriateness by the thrusting of a human hand into the bear's jaws. On both sides of the Rose-Cross there appears what must be overcome by the Rose-Cross, and it is the Rose-Cross which calls upon man to purify and raise himself more and more.

Thus the poem really describes the principle of Christianity in the profoundest manner and, above all, shows us what we ought to have before our mind's eye, particularly at a festival such as we are keeping to-day.

The eldest of the Brothers living here, and belonging to the Brotherhood, tells the Pilgrim Mark expressly that their combined activity is of the spirit, that it is spiritual life. This work for mankind on the spiritual plane has a particular meaning. The Brothers have experienced life's joys and sorrows; they have passed through conflicts outside these walls; they have accomplished tasks in the world; now they are here, but that does not mean that their work is at an end; the further development of mankind is their unending task. He is told: “You have seen as much now as can be shown to a novice to whom the first portal is opened. You have been shown in profound symbols what man's ascent should be. But the second portal hides greater mysteries: those of the influence of higher worlds on mankind. You can only learn these greater mysteries after lengthy preparation, only then can you enter through the other gate.” Profound secrets are expressed in this poem.

In him I scarce as virtue may denote
The power of good which e'en his youth inspired
And taught him to respect his father's word,
When harshly he his services required,
With duties burdening his leisure hours;
The son obeyed with ardour, never tired,
Like some poor boy who, friendless and astray,
Is glad to work for but a trifling pay.

On foot he joined the warriors in the field,
In lowering tempest and in dazzling light,
The horses he did tend, the meals prepare,
And armed the soldiers ready for the fight.
Oft as a messenger, both keen and fleet,
He hastened through the woods by day and night;
To live for others both in thought and action
Seemed but to give him joy and satisfaction.

And brave and cheerful always, in the strife
He sought the arrows scattered on the ground;
Then hastily he gathered curing herbs,
With which the burning wounds he cooled and bound;
And just as if his very touch were healing,
Ere long the sufferers were strong and sound;
How all regarded him with joy and pride!
Alone his father seemed not satisfied.

E'en as a ship, despite its heavy load
From port to port with speedy lightness sailing,
He bore the burden of his parents' word
That in obedience ne'er he should be failing;
As pleasure is for boys, for youths distinction,
For him his father's will was all-prevailing,
So that he might demand whate'er he would,
Each task was soon fulfilled, each test was stood.

At last the father yielded and acknowledged
The merit of his son in word and deed;
While of a sudden all his sternness vanished,
He gave the youth a swift and precious steed;
Henceforth a sword replaced the shorter #8224,
And from his lesser duties he was freed:
Thus, destined by his birth and well acquitted,
Into an Order he was now admitted.

Ah, well could I report for many days
Amazing things to every one who hears;
And higher than the most delightful tales
His life will be esteemed in coming years;
For what in poetry and fiction charms,
Yet to our mind incredible appears,
Will here with greater pleasure still be heard,
Because it has in real event occurred.

The name of him whom Providence has chosen
That wondrous things on earth he should achieve,
Whom I may often praise, though ne'er sufficing
Whose destiny we scarcely can believe,
His name—it is Humanus, Saint and wise one,
The best of men whom I did e'er perceive:
By origin another name he bears,
Which with illustrious ancestors he shares.

The aged brother would have spoken on.
Filled with the miracles that he did know,
And he shall gladden us for many weeks
With all the stirring facts he still can show;
But he was interrupted, just as now
His heart was pouring forth in fervent flow.
The others softly in and out had passed
And deemed it time to intervene at last.

When Mark had bowed before his hosts and prayed
In gratitude for the sustaining meal,
A bowl of crystal water he requested.
They brought what he had craved with friendly zeal.
Hereafter led him to their festive hall,
Therein a sight unwonted to reveal.
Of what he saw you soon will be aware,
For everything shall be described with care.

No ornament was here, the eye deluding,
A cross-arched vault rose sternly from the ground,
And thirteen chairs against the walls, he noticed.
Were like a pious chorus ranged around,
By clever hands full delicately carven;
In front of each a little desk he found.
Devotion seemed to fill the very air,
Fraternity and restfulness and prayer.

Above each chair was hung a special shield,
Thirteen in all the number he espied.
They seemed to be important, purposeful,
No boast of ancestors in shallow pride.
And brother Mark, with longing all aglow,
Desired to learn what secret they did hide:
Lo, in the middle one the mystic sign,
The cross which clustring roses do entwine.

Each object will arouse to life and action
The soul which to its inspiration yields;
Some places are adorned by swords and lances,
While helmets hang above these other shields;
Here battered weapons are to be discovered,
Such as one may collect on battle-fields:
There spears and banners, come from distant lands,
And even fetters here and iron bands!

Each brother sinking down before his chair,
In silent prayer profoundly wrapt they rested;
Then softly chanted fervent hymns of thanks,
By cheerfulness and piety suggested;
With mutual blessing they retired to sleep,
A short repose, by fancies unmolested:
But Mark remains, surrounded by a few,
Still wishing more attentively to view.

Though tired in body, full awake his mind,
Preoccupied by many hidden things:
For here, his thirst in raging flames appeasing,
A dragon is enthroned with fiery wings;
And here between his jaws a bear is holding
An arm from which the blood it loses springs,
Both shields, in distance corresponding quite,
Hung next the Rosy-Cross to left and right.

The paths were wonderful that led thee here,
The aged brother speaks unto his guest:
Oh let these symbols bid thee stay until
The many heroes' deeds we manifest;
Our mysteries we will confide to thee,
For what is here concealed, can ne'er be guessed;
Although thou wilt divine what here was done,
Endured and lost, and last what triumph won.

Do not believe that but of times gone by
The brother spake. Here wonders never fail;
And more and ever more thou shalt behold,
Until withdrawn is the enshrouding veil.
One portal only 'tis that thou hast passed:
And if thou feelst the call, O friend, prevail!
The foremost court as yet thou didst attain,
But worthy art the very core to gain.

After a short sleep our Brother Mark next learns to divine something at least of the inner mysteries; in the powerful symbols he has let the ascent of the human Self work upon his soul, and when he is awakened by a sign from his short rest he comes to a window, a kind of lattice, and hears a strange threefold harmony sounding thrice, and the whole as if intermingled with the playing of a flute. He cannot look in, cannot see what is happening there in the room. We do not need to be told more than these few words as an indication of what awaits the man who approaches the spiritual worlds, when he is so far purified and perfected by his endeavours to develop his Self, that he has passed through the astral world and approaches the higher worlds—those worlds in which are to be found the spiritual archetypes of the things here on earth. When he approaches what is called in esoteric Christianity the world of heaven, he approaches it through a world of flowing colour; he enters into a world of sound, into the harmony of the universe, the music of the spheres. The spiritual world is a world of sound. He who has developed his higher Self to the level of the higher worlds must become at home in this spiritual world. It is indeed Goethe who clearly expressed the higher experience of a world of spiritual sound in his Faust when he lets him be carried up to heaven and the world of heaven is revealed to him through sound.

The sun-orb sings, in emulation
'Mid brother-spheres, his ancient round:

The physical sun does not sing, but the spiritual sun sings. Goethe retains this image when, after long wanderings, Faust is exalted into the spiritual worlds (Faust, Second Part): “Sounding loud to spirit-hearing, see the new-born day appearing.” “Pealing rays and trumpet-blazes—eye is blinded, ear amazes: The Unheard can no one hear!”

Through the symbolic world of the astral, man, if he evolves higher, approaches the world of the harmony of the spheres, the Devachanic domain, the spiritual music. Only softly, softly, does Brother Mark, after passing through the first portal, the astral portal, hear floating out to him the sound of the inner world behind our external world, of that world which transforms the lower astral world into that higher world which is pervaded by the triple harmony. And in reaching the higher world man's lower nature is transformed into the higher triad: our astral body is changed into the spirit-self, the etheric body into the life-spirit, the physical body into the spirit-man. In the music of the spheres he first senses the triple harmony of the higher nature, and in becoming one with this music of the spheres he has the first glimpse of the rejuvenation of man when he enters into union with the spiritual world. He sees, as in a dream, rejuvenated mankind float through the garden in the form of the three youths bearing three torches. This is the moment when Mark's soul has awakened in the morning from darkness, and when some darkness still remains; his soul has not yet penetrated it. But precisely at such a time the soul can gradually look into the spiritual world. It can look into the spiritual worlds as it can look when the summer noon is past, when the sun is losing in power and winter has come, and then at midnight the Christ-principle shines through the earth in the night of Christmas. Through the Christ-principle man is exalted to the higher trinity, represented for Brother Mark by the three youths who are the rejuvenated soul of man. This is the meaning of Goethe's lines:

And until thou truly hast
This “dying and becoming,”
Thou art but a troubled guest
O'er the dark earth roaming.

Every year anew Christmas will indicate to the one who understands esoteric Christianity that what happens in the external world is the mimicry, the gestures, of inner spiritual processes. The external power of the sun lives in the spring and summer sunshine. In the Scriptures this external power of the sun, which is only the forerunner of the inner spiritual power of the sun, is represented by John the Baptist, but the inner, spiritual power by Christ. And while the physical power of the sun slowly abates, the spiritual power rises and grows in strength until it reaches its zenith at Christmas time. This is the meaning underlying the words in the gospel of S. John: “He must increase, but I must decrease.” And he increases until he appears where the sunforce has again attained the outer physical power. So that man may henceforth revere and worship in this external physical power the spiritual power of the sun, he must learn the meaning of the Christmas festival. For those who do not know this meaning the new power of the sun is nothing but the old physical power returning. But whoever has become familiar with the impulses which esoteric Christianity, and especially the Christmas festival, should give him will see in the growing power of the solar body the external body of the inner Christ which shines through the earth, which gives it life and fruitfulness, so that the earth itself becomes the bearer of the Christ-power, of the Earth-Spirit. Thus what is born in every Christmas night will be born for us each time anew. Through Christ we shall experience inwardly the microcosm in the macrocosm, and this realisation will lead us higher and higher.

The festivals, which have long ago become something external to men, will again appear in their deep significance for mankind if they are led by this profound Esotericism to the knowledge that the occurrences of external nature, such as thunder and lightning, sunrise and sunset, moonrise and the setting of the moon, are the gestures and physiognomy of spiritual existence. And at the turning-points which are marked by our festivals we should realise that these are also times of important happenings in the spiritual world. Then we shall be led on to the rejuvenating spiritual power represented by the three youths, which the ego can only win by devoting itself to the outer world and not egotistically shutting itself away from it. But there is no devotion to the outer world if this external world is not permeated by the Spirit. That this Spirit shall appear every year anew for all men, even for the feeblest, as Light in the darkness, must be written every year afresh in the heart and soul of man.

This is what Goethe wished to express in this poem, The Mysteries. It is at once a Christmas poem and an Easter poem. It would indicate profound secrets of esoteric Christianity. If what he wished to indicate of the deep mysteries of Rosicrucian Christianity is allowed to work upon our souls, if we absorb its power even in part, then for some few at least in our environment we shall become missionaries; we shall succeed in fashioning this Festival once more into something filled with spirit and with life.

When after short repose within his cell
A deep resounding bell awakes our guest,
His soul is filled with longing for devotion,
He rises quickly with unwearied zest
And hastens to the church, with all his heart
Responding to the gladly heard behest,
Obedient, peaceful and by prayer bestirred;
Alas! The door is locked, he stands deterred.

But hark! a blow on dull resounding ore
Three times in equal intervals renewed,
No chime it seems to be of clock or bells,
From time to time with tones of flute imbued;
The floating music fills the heart with joy,
Mysterious 'tis and scarce to be construed,
It sounds like singing, solemn and entrancing,
To which the couples interlace in dancing.

Bewildered and by strange emotion moved,
He hastens to the window there to gaze;
The day is dawning in the distant east,
The sky o'erflown by lucent streaks of haze.
And may he trust his eyes? A mystic light
Is fleeting through the garden's winding ways;
Three youths with torches in their hands he sees
Who haste along the paths between the trees.

He clearly sees their wonderful apparel,
The white resplendent garments which they wear,
Their girdles made of intertwining roses,
The wreaths of flowers in their curly hair;
They seem to come from some nocturnal dances,
With joy of movement thrilled, enlived and fair.
But as the stars will fade, when day is near,
Extinguishing their torch, they disappear.

Wieland's significance

[ 1 ] There are historical figures to whom posterity cannot quite do justice. They seem destined by fate to prepare the way for others. These others become the leaders of humanity. Their names will be inscribed in golden letters in the books of history. What they have produced will be gratefully remembered and will live on from generation to generation. But these leaders of humanity have teachers. And the names of the teachers are often obscured by the students. And that is only natural. For the teachers of great pupils need not be great. But even if they themselves are great, they easily fall into the general fate. - In the great age of German poetry at the end of the eighteenth century, this was the fate of three personalities: Klopstock, Herder and Wieland. They were completely eclipsed by the great triumvirate of Lessing, Schiller and Goethe. And it is not only their age that owes an immeasurable debt to them, but also Schiller and Goethe themselves. Herder was Goethe's teacher in the best sense of the word. And Goethe himself beautifully expressed Klopstock's attitude to the German people and their education: "Our literature would not have become what it is now without these mighty predecessors. With their appearance, they were ahead of their time and, as it were, dragged it after them" (Conversations with Eckermann: November 9, 1824). And Goethe also found the right words about Wieland's importance. "The whole of Upper Germany owes its style to Wieland. It has learned a great deal from him, and his ability to express himself properly is not the least of it" (Conversations with Eckermann: January 8, 1825). This is supplemented by Goethe's words in "Dichtung und Wahrheit". There he also speaks of the influence that he himself had experienced through Wieland. "How many of his brilliant productions fall into the period of my academic years. Musarion had the greatest effect on me, and I can still remember the place and the spot where I saw the first sheet that Oeser gave me. It was here that I thought I saw antiquity alive and new again. Everything that is plastic in Wieland's genius showed itself here in the most perfect way." - Such words clearly describe Wieland's position in German intellectual life. And no one can have a judgment of what was going on in this intellectual life during the second half of the eighteenth century who does not at least acquaint himself with Wieland's most important creations. If one takes a closer look at them, one finds how wonderfully they complement those of Klopstock, Lessing and Herder. Klopstock's cozy religiosity, Lessing's critical severity and Herder's philosophical height are complemented by Wieland's grace and gracefulness. And thus the latter was even closer to the immediate needs of man than the others. In a certain sense, he brought the ideas that those on the heights of humanity represented down into bourgeois thinking and feeling. What they showed in their holiday dress, he put on his everyday coat. It would be unfair to forget the essence of his character above the lighter dress. An impartial examination of his life and his creations can teach us this.

Boyhood

[ 2 ] Wieland grew out of a school of thought that was widespread in Protestant regions in the middle of the eighteenth century. This was expressed in a certain unpretentious piety, which was less concerned with grasping high religious truths than with cultivating the mind and heartfelt intimacy. A "good man" must find the way to honest, sincere piety in his heart, so said this direction. It did not seek lofty doctrines, but the pure soul. This movement is called pietism. One must not close oneself off from either its light or its dark sides if one wants to understand the emergence of a spirit like Wieland's from it. In circles that cannot rise to particular spiritual heights, it promotes a true and healthy ideality and a direct judgment in questions that go beyond the everyday. But it also entails a certain narrow-mindedness. The pietist struggles to make an honest judgment; but he also easily regards this, his judgment, as the only authoritative one, and becomes - without actually wanting to - intolerant of others. - And this also characterizes the pietistic home from which Christoph Martin Wieland grew up - he was born on 5 September 1733 as the second son of the Protestant preacher from Oberholzheim in Upper Swabia, Thomas Adam Wieland. Both his father and his mother, Regina Katharina, were excellent people. When Christoph Martin was three years old, his father was transferred to nearby Biberach. The boy spent his early childhood there until he was fourteen. A sensible, precocious boy grows up in a small middle-class home, whose head is primarily concerned with the souls of his fellow human beings, under conditions that can perhaps be well described by saying that he learns to know the greatness of humanity from a small mirror, rather than in reality. The small mirror is the books. And the boy Wieland was a little bookworm. He absorbed the writings of Cornelius Nepos and Horace and was already busy turning out long Latin poems and German verses in his twelfth year. Among his works was a heroic poem about the destruction of Jerusalem.

[ 3 ] At the age of fourteen, Wieland was able to swap the pietistic atmosphere of his father's house for that of the school in Kloster-Bergen (near Magdeburg). The pious Abbot Steinmetz ran this school. It was probably in the nature of things, given the boy's previous education, that he used the more ample opportunity here to get to know the world through reading. Horace, Xenophon, Cicero, Lucrez, the materialist writer of antiquity, Bayle, the influential doubter of the time, Wolff, the leading philosopher, and the mighty Enlightenment philosopher Voltaire occupied his lively mind. Under such influences, it was inevitable that some of the ideas he had received in his pious father's house or encountered at school would falter. Doubts about Christianity, as he had come to know it, sank into his soul. And it took all the fervent power of Klopstock's "Messiah" to give his mind the stability it needed at that time. The first three cantos of this poem had just been published at that time. Wieland read them, like so many others, with delight. The power of pious feeling that flowed from them was stronger than any ideas that could be aroused by doubters and enlighteners. - But the young man, who was not in a position to transform the material he had absorbed from the books into a secure judgment of his own through any kind of life experience, was assailed by much. He soon became acquainted with Haller's poems, which were based on the view of nature at the time, and with Breitinger's critical studies, which set completely new standards in the evaluation of artistic works. In addition, in 1749 he was allowed to stay temporarily with his relative in Erfurt, Wilhelm Baumer, who was a doctor and professor of philosophy. He introduced him to the most important philosophical doctrines and to Cervantes' "Don Quixote". In this way, the young Wieland was simultaneously introduced to the thought systems through which mankind sought to solve its great mysteries and to the humorous treatment of a rapturous idealism in "Don Quixote".

Student days

[ 4 ] These circumstances determined the state of mind in which Wieland returned to his father's house in 1750 and in which he soon afterwards went to the University of Tübingen. It would be to completely misjudge Wieland's inner life if one were to attach too much importance to a love affair that entered his life at that time. It was with Sophie von Gutermann from Augsburg, who was visiting relatives in Biberach around this time. Although the relationship was an intimate one, it played no more of a significant role in Wieland's development than some later ones. Incidentally, it dissolved of its own accord when Sophie married la Roche, the electoral court councillor, in 1753. Even if this "infidelity" put him in a gloomy mood for a while, it did not have a profound effect on his development. In particular, it should not be attributed to this mood that he took a pious, moralizing direction in the following years. Rather, this had a completely different origin. When he was in Tübingen, he had little interest in the chosen science of law. Instead, he recently immersed himself in Klopstock's "Messiah" and added to this the study of Platonic idealism. He also became acquainted with Leibnizen's philosophical writings. From all this, he drew for himself an idealistic view of the world, which he expressed in the poem "The Nature of Things". His wonderful talent for form, which he had developed from Klopstock, was immediately revealed. The philosopher Meier from Halle, to whom Wieland sent the poem without naming himself, liked it so much that he immediately ordered it to be printed. Wasn't such recognition supposed to bring the young man, who had little stability, completely into the direction that had followed Klopstock at the time? And so it came about that the subsequent poems "Lobgesang auf die Liebe" and "Hermann" ran entirely along Klopstockian lines. - And that was what forged a direct personal relationship between Wieland and the critic of Klopstock's school, Bodmer.

Entrance into literary life. Wieland and Bodmer

[ 5 ] This introduced Wieland to a school of thought that was particularly decisive for German educational life at the time. Among other names, it was also linked to Bodmer's. And it signified a kind of intellectual turnaround in Germany. Until the middle of the century, Gottsched, who worked in Leipzig, had been the guiding spirit in literature. His work was comprehensive. Whatever he said about any contemporary phenomenon was considered authoritative. His position was shaken by two events. One was that he refused to recognize Klopstock. The second was Lessing's rejection of his admiration of France. With regard to Wieland, the first event comes into consideration first. Bodmer had gained the upper hand over Gottsched as a critic. He stood up for Klopstock; and those who went along with Klopstock as a poet naturally gravitated towards the new critical direction, which in Bodmer and his followers enthusiastically advocated the Messiah poet. - It was therefore a great encouragement to Wieland when Bodmer judged the former's "Hermann" in the most favorable way. He virtually portrayed the young man as Klopstock's rival and thus provoked feelings of gratitude in the strongest possible way. As a result, Wieland not only continued to write in the Klopstockian manner, but also, after his return to Biberach in 1752, wrote a treatise on Bodmer's epic poem "Noah", in which he placed the revered man on an equal footing with Milton and Klopstock. How much Bodmer's poetry is really worth, and how much Wieland's judgment was biased, cannot be of interest in a consideration of the latter's development. What matters is that through this process the young Wieland moved to Zurich in 1752 at Bodmer's invitation, and that this stay became immeasurably important to him. He lived in Bodmer's house as a guest for a whole year. That was his first direct contact with life. Whatever one may think of Bodmer, he was in a certain sense a powerful personality, a whole man. For someone who had previously only got to know great people from books, getting to know such a personality meant a lot. It is a different thing to read about important things or to see them spring to life directly from a soul. - This vividness and immediacy matter much more than whether one or the other finds that the personality in question was not really a great one. - But Bodmer was a characteristic figure. He had gradually come to see the moral world view as the deeper foundation of art. The forms of poetry should lead man to his highest ideas. Beauty should be an expression of the highest truth. These views settled in Wieland's soul. And he increasingly came to advocate them quite vigorously himself. It may now please some to think little of this transitional stage in Wieland's development. It has also been suggested that the marriage of his beloved Sophie, which had just taken place, had made him world-weary and driven him into this moralizing manner. But one might mock the fact that he said at the time, in reference to the poet Uz, that "one should prefer even the worst church hymns to the most charming song of Uz an infinite number of times"; precisely in the direction that Wieland's creations later took, this point of passage in his development was infinitely important. He subsequently freed himself completely from any moralizing direction and became a master of a style devoted purely to beautiful forms. Grace and grace in the depiction of the sensual became one of his elements. The fact that he always retained his majesty and firmness is due to the fact that he had really learned to know moralizing judgement from his own life. As a result, he came to know it in a justified way as one-sidedness. You have to have gone through certain things yourself if you want to gain a correct relationship to them.

[ 6 ] In 1754, Wieland accepted a position as court master. He gradually freed himself from Bodmer. He was particularly influenced by his reading of the Englishman Shaftesbury, who saw the morally good as a sister concept to the beautiful. Beauty is what pleases man; and the good is the beautiful in action. The fact that Wieland was able to gain an impression of such a world view shows the direction in which Bodmer's view had taken. This living-in had proved particularly fruitful for the development of very noteworthy pedagogical ideas in Wieland. His "Plan von einer neuen Art von Privatunterweisung", published in 1753, had brought him the above-mentioned position of tutor. In 1758, he added a "Plan for an academy to educate the minds and hearts of young people".

[ 7 ] Wieland's thinking and outlook on life became increasingly free. His epic poem "Cyrus" appeared (as a fragment) in 1759. The ideas of the Enlightenment that were increasingly emerging at the time had taken hold of him in a particular form. He idealized the Persian king as a hero of freedom. For him, it was less a depiction of the historical Cyrus than the idea that an enlightened person has of a ruler who rules in the spirit of an age thirsting for freedom. Wieland also tried his hand at drama. His tragedy "Lady Johanna Gray" was performed to great acclaim in Winterthur in 1758 and even found favor in the eyes of the critical Lessing. - By this time, Wieland had already become known in wider circles as a writer. His outer life changed in 1759 when he exchanged his position as a tutor in Zurich for one in Bern. However, he gave this up after a short time and supported himself for a while by teaching various subjects on a freelance basis.

Wieland in Switzerland

[ 8 ] In Bern, he met an intellectual lady, Mademoiselle Bondeli. She had also become famous as Rousseau's friend. The fact that Wieland became engaged to her is of less importance, as life broke off the engagement. However, it was important to him that in Bern he had the opportunity to engage in animated conversation with a witty personality who was at home in almost all areas of human knowledge and who was able to judge the world from a high point of view. Her image accompanied Wieland throughout his life; many of her features can be found in the female figures in his poems, and as an old man he made the beautiful judgment about her "that she was the most beautiful, brightest, most educated and in every respect most perfect female spirit, which was connected with a heart so regular, at the same time so tender and strong, so loving and so completely free of all weakness".

[ 9 ] The time had come when Wieland had to think about finding a more stable position in life. His relatives and friends at home helped him in this. They made it possible for him to be appointed senator in Biberach on April 30, 1760. Such a senator was entitled to certain positions in the municipal office, which constituted a bread provision. Wieland received one in July of the same year as director of the chancellery. However, the appointment remained provisional for four years. Biberach was divided in religious terms. A Catholic and a Protestant party fought over the appointment of the posts, and Wieland only later became the definitive town clerk. In 1765, he married Dorothea von Hillenbrand from Augsburg, who had been brought to him through the efforts of her relatives. It was a marriage without enthusiasm, but the basis for a lasting happiness in life, a quiet, contented companionship, which lasted until his wife's death in 1801. The keynote of this companionship can be found in the words that Wieland wrote about his wife: "My wife is one of God's most excellent creatures in the world, a model of every feminine and domestic virtue, free from every fault of her sex, with a head without prejudice and a moral character that would do honor to a saint. The twenty-two years that I have now lived with her have passed without my once wishing that I were not married; on the contrary, she and her existence are so interwoven with mine that I cannot be away from her eight days without experiencing something akin to Swiss homesickness. Of the thirteen children she has borne me, ten are living, kind, good-natured creatures, healthy in soul and body, who, together with their mother, constitute the happiness of my life."

Shakespeare translation

[ 10 ] During his time in Biberach, Wieland undertook one of the most important and influential deeds of his life. He began translating Shakespeare's plays in 1762. By 1766, he had succeeded in making twenty-two of these plays accessible to the German public. If one considers that until then Shakespeare had been virtually unknown in Germany and that since that time he had gained an influence on German intellectual life that can only be compared to that of Schiller or Goethe himself, one will see the fundamental importance of Wieland's work in the right light. Lessing therefore immediately paid tribute to it in the right way. And both Goethe and Schiller owe Wieland a debt of gratitude in this respect, for it was through him that Shakespeare was first and foremost communicated to them.

New artistic style

[ 11 ] The petty circumstances in Biberahh were made somewhat more bearable for Wieland by the fact that the former Electorate of Mainz minister Count Stadion had settled in the neighboring castle of Warthausen in 1761, where the government councillor la Roche also lived with his wife Sophie. She was Wieland's former girlfriend. Wieland entered this house as a good friend and always welcome guest. French taste, a certain free, even light view of life and experience of the world was at home here. For the poet, who was also warmly befriended by Sophie la Roche, there was the most wonderful stimulation. What was said was very much in the spirit of the Enlightenment, in many respects had the character of doubtfulness and was based on Voltaire, Rousseau, the French encyclopaedists d'Alembert, Diderot and others. - As a result of all this, Wieland himself lost the heaviness that his lifestyle had still had due to his earlier circumstances. A purely artistic view of the world became more and more prevalent. Sobriety, immersed in grace and graceful beauty, became more important to him than a view of the supernatural heights of the ideal. Such an attitude places life higher than all reflection and contemplation about life. Even if man's reason is not sufficient to exhaust the actual depths of existence, this reason is there, and one abides by it. Even if sensuality is deceptive, this sensuality is given to man and he should rejoice in it. The confession that appears as the background behind Wieland's creations during his time in Biberach can be summarized in words such as these. In 1764 he published the novel "The Victory of Nature over Enthusiasm, or the Adventures of Don Sylvio of Rosalva". In 1765 his "Comic Tales", and in 1766 and 1767, in two volumes, the "History of Agathon". With "Don Sylvio" and the "Comic Tales" he now incurred the disgust of the Klopstockians, just as he had previously been accepted into their circle with joy. - And it was inevitable that the new style of his work would soon find uncalled-for imitators who were not interested in depicting the sensual in an artistic form, but simply in depicting the abject itself. Wieland had to expressly emphasize that he had nothing to do with such unartistic beginnings. - It cannot be said that in the two works mentioned the poet had already achieved what he obviously had in mind. For "Don Sylvio" he had the style of "Don Quixote" in mind. In this style, he wanted to protest against superstition and false idealism in favor of a healthy natural sense. In the "Comic Tales", material from Greek mythology is used to create graceful but nonetheless rather questionable descriptions.

Wieland's idiosyncrasy

[ 12 ] Only a complete impartiality, which does not want to judge but to see into a person's soul with understanding, can do justice to Wieland in this point of his artistic development. The way in which he had to acquire a view of life was not suitable for creating a fixed center in his own personality. He had absorbed the thoughts of many people in the mirror of books. Such a way produces peculiar effects, especially in the case of great talent tending towards artistic perception. Man lets the various opinions of his fellow men pass by his mind more like pictures. Such strong inclinations, such firm judgments are not formed as is the case when life itself is the teacher. One is more partial to the one, less to the other; but one gives up one's whole personality to neither. This remains unstable. People who do not get to know much in this way arrive relatively quickly at a fixed view of life. Life forces such a view on them. After all, life usually only takes hold of people from one side. It makes them one-sided, but firm. People who develop like Wieland are different. They get to know life through its reflections in many people's minds. And every world view has a certain justification. Few people can think of anything that doesn't have some justification within certain limits. Anyone who has to deal with opinions about things rather than with the things themselves will easily have to let firmness take a back seat at the expense of versatility. It would only be worse if he lost all inner stability. But this was not even remotely the case with Wieland. The core of his being was rooted in the noble traits of the German bourgeoisie. - Indeed, in a certain respect, his entire significance was based on this. Through the easy flexibility of his style, he was able to conquer the refinement of French taste and the artistic transfiguration of sensuality in the sense of the Greek view of the world for German intellectual life, and yet remained related to this intellectual life in its popular character through his own essence. He never lost the German spirit over French grace and Greek grace.

[ 13 ] But as a "man of books" he was unsparingly exposed to the impact of living people in the two cases in which he was confronted with a firm world view. So it was in Zurich with Bodmer, so it was in Warthausen with Stadion and the la Roches. There the moralism, here the worldly manner flowed into his own blood.

[ 14 ] Wieland now felt the need to enlighten himself about his change. The poet does this through poetry. This became the novel, the "History of Agathon". However, he presents his own development in the guise of a process from the ancient Greek world of the fourth century BC. The idealist Agathon, who initially lives entirely in Platonic higher worlds, is contrasted with the worldly child Hippias. Hippias stands on the ground of a world view that is based purely on the satisfaction of human selfishness and material well-being. Although Agathon feels repelled by such a view, his contact with it does not remain without consequences for his development. He undergoes the transformation from an idealist who is turned away from the world to a man who surrenders to immediate reality. - In his search for reality, Wieland focused on Greekness. His transformation was not aimed at a common reality, but at an artistically ennobled one, one filled with spirit. Thus it is not arbitrary that he clothed his own path of development in Greek garb. Certainly others have seen Greekness differently. The way in which Wieland saw it corresponded to a necessity in his time. And Goethe, by his own admission, learned a great deal from Wieland in this respect. He also did in other respects. The "Agathon" created a new style of novel. And the seeds that were sown in it were later developed in Goethe's style in "Wilhelm Meister". Goethe also points to such things when he speaks of Wieland having given the German educated a style. In this way Wieland became a pathfinder. He himself bore the fruit of his striving in the beautiful sense when, in 1764, he conceived the plan for the work that was then printed in 1768: "Musarion, oder die Philosophie der Grazien", a poem in three books. Goethe's assessment of this work has already been mentioned above. It rightly bears the significant subtitle "Philosophy of the Graces".

"Musarion"

[ 15 ] Wieland was increasingly confronted with an important question in life: does idealism have any value if it does not come from the innermost nature of man? And this main point was naturally linked to a series of secondary questions: does idealism not often only appear as an inwardly untrue enthusiasm? Should one not prefer the more or less sensual but true enjoyment of life, which moves in lower regions, to untrue idealism? These are the questions at the heart of the "Musarion". This is why Wieland contrasts the Stoic Cleanth and the Pythagorean Theophron with the Musarion, who is devoted to the graceful enjoyment of life. The former is untrue and phrase-like; the latter is true, even if it does not rise to supernatural heights. The grace of a free treatment of verse is poured over the whole. Wieland philosophizes in a playful manner, but the play is art, and philosophy is like a witty conversation. But the conversation is one conducted by a personality who is at the full height of the situation. - One must not for a moment disregard the fact that neither true idealism nor crude sensuality is opposed in the "Musarion". Those who can observe both without bias will not feel their feelings hurt in any direction.

The sensual in Wieland

[ 16 ] A similar question and a similar attitude are expressed in the unfinished poem "Idris and Zenide", written between 1766 and 1767. Here too, in an artistically graceful manner, spiritually refined love is juxtaposed with the supernatural flight of fancy on the one hand and raw sensuality on the other. The fact that the poet at times through his choice of subject matter

[ 17 ] as in "Nadine" has not been able to avoid the impression of lasciviousness, must certainly be admitted. However, it must not be assumed that the poet resorted to Greek paganism clothed in sensual forms in order to offer his readers a frivolous thrill of entertainment. Rather, he was concerned with a serious question of life, namely: what role does and may the sensual play in human existence? The poet's judgment should not depend on how this or that person views such a question. - Some of Wieland's later works also belong to the same period and soul direction: "Grazien" (published in 1770), the "Neue Amadis" (1771) and "Aspasia" (1773); according to the plan and also in the essential parts, they were written some time before their publication.

[ 18 ] The departure of Count Stadion von Warthausen brought about a change in Wieland's life. What had made his work in Biberach bearable for the poet no longer applied. The count also died soon afterwards in 1768.

University teacher. Activity in Erfurt

[ 19 ] Just as the thirty-six-year-old Wieland was beginning to find his work and surroundings rather dull, his life took a turn for the worse. At the court of the Elector of Mainz, attention had long been drawn to the writer, who dealt with the things that interested the worldly circles at the time with such great talent. Elector Emmerich Joseph ruled in Mainz. He saw in Wieland the right man to bring his declining University of Erfurt back to prominence and appointed him professor there. Wieland's acceptance of this appointment could not have been in doubt. He had long had pedagogical inclinations. This had become apparent in the two writings mentioned on the occasion of his stay in Switzerland. And so it was that our poet arrived in Erfurt as professor of philosophy in July 1769. - His work was extraordinarily important for the university. Even if Wieland was not a pioneer in the field of philosophy, he had nevertheless acquired a comprehensive knowledge of the great world questions and intellectual heroes within the limits that had once been set for him. And it always has an invigorating effect when someone is able to speak of these things to his listeners in such a way that they feel something of how the riddles of the world can be not just school questions, but questions of life. Wieland's lectures gave the university a new, fresh impetus. He spoke about philosophical, literary and historical matters. - And it is essential that the whole thing had an effect on Wieland's own style. He had to think things through again in a systematic context that had previously passed through his mind more fragmentarily. In addition, the times made certain demands on every thinker in this direction. It was the high tide of the Enlightenment. The effects of Rousseau, of the French Enlightenment and scientific materialists, of German free-spirited philosophy, had set thought in motion. Wieland's appointment to a philosophical chair coincided with an epoch in which humanity was intensively reflecting on its tasks, its purpose, its freedom and self-determination. It was natural that Wieland had to deal with all this. Rousseau had seen in the state of nature the only possibility of happiness and in all civilization only a development towards unhappy conditions. Whoever did not want to give in to despair at the progress of mankind or to indifference towards it, had to ask himself about the ways in which a higher development is possible. There was a feeling everywhere that mankind had progressed from a kind of immature state to maturity. Ancient beliefs had begun to waver. In an essay on the Enlightenment, Kant answered the question: "What is Enlightenment?" with the words: "Man, make bold to make use of your reason". All of these questions played a part in Wieland's thinking when he was preparing what he had to say to his Erfurt listeners. And they initially took on a form that corresponded to his inclination towards pedagogical tasks. This resulted in the novel "Der goldene Spiegel, oder die Könige von Scheschian", which was published in four volumes in 1772. In the guise of an oriental tale, he presents his thoughts on the best form of government and the education of the people. He shows what can lead to the ruin of a state and what can be a blessing. In the character of Danischmend, he embodies a statesman who also educates his prince. - Wieland wanted to create a thoroughly contemporary book. And he succeeded. For he made a great impression on many. The ideas of the time also play a role in the "Contributions to the Secret History of the Human Mind and Heart. Drawn from the Archives of Nature". The underlying idea is that the happy state of nature painted by Rousseau is an illusion. Humanity should not dream of a bliss that it once possessed and lost, but should see its task in the further development into the future.

[ 20 ] The full wealth of Wieland's humor came to light in the prose work "Socrates mainomenos, oder die Dialoge des Diogenes von Sinope", which was published in 1770. Here he attempts to portray the cynical philosopher Diogenes in a more unbiased light than is usually the case. In Erfurt, he also put the finishing touches to the poem "The Graces", which in a certain respect contains a confession of faith by Wieland. The Graces are portrayed as the creators of sensual and spiritualized beauty. A feeling rather than a thought hovers over the whole. All the difficult questions of life are supposed to find their transfiguration in a lifestyle ennobled and made easy by beauty. And the same feeling is poured out over the "New Amadis", which was also begun in Biberach and completed here. Here, the characters of the heroes are distorted into the foolish, those of the heroines into the tawdry, in order to show the value of spiritualized as opposed to merely sensual beauty in light artistic play.

Calling to Weimar

[ 21 ] As beneficial as Wieland's work in Erfurt was for the university, he found little inspiration for himself there. There was little intellectual activity to be found among the other professors, and they had not exactly welcomed Wieland with joy, as he "did not belong to the subject". There were therefore rays of hope in his life again when he was able to visit the la Roche family in Ehrenbreitstein near Koblenz on a journey in 1771 and make the acquaintance of Georg and Fritz Jacobi, as well as Johann Heinrich Merck in Darmstadt. All of these personalities later became friends of Goethe. In particular, Merck, who was very discerning and well versed in science and life, was a good advisor not only for Wieland but also for Goethe. Of particular importance, however, was the fact that Wieland was introduced to Duchess Anna Amalie of Weimar in November 1771 during one of his excursions there. She was in charge of the government on behalf of her son Karl August, who had not yet reached adulthood. With her own open eye, she recognized Wieland's importance. It suited her fine-minded, refined nature to have such a man close to her. She therefore soon suggested that he take over the education of the hereditary prince. And with Wieland's consent, the first of the four great personalities who would make this city the center of German intellectual life for decades to come moved to the princely court in Weimar. Goethe came in 1775, followed soon after by Herder and finally Schiller. From 1772 to 1775, Wieland was Karl August's tutor. From then on, he lived with a pension as a friend of the court and the Weimar intellectual greats, appreciated and loved by all. His princess had found in him what she was looking for and needed, a loyal friend and advisor who also appealed to her sense of beauty and her need for spiritual entertainment through the lightness of his art. The young hereditary prince gained complete trust in his teacher and retained it in the friendliest and most liberal manner when he outgrew his education and came to the government.

[ 22 ] The combination of Wieland's graceful art and the court's need for entertainment resulted in a series of occasional poems by the poet for festive occasions. This placed his graceful muse in a not unworthy service; and it even resulted in something that was significant in a certain direction: Wieland's Singspiel. In "Aurora" and "Alceste", Wieland provided fine texts, which the talented composer Schweitzer then set to music. What was striven for there is significant because the ideal was to strive for a harmonious unison of poetry and music, an endeavor that led to such great success in the field of musical drama much later.

[ 23 ] Wieland used his muse to accomplish what he was virtually predestined to do by all his talents: he founded a journal for German education in the "Teutscher Mercur". If anyone, he was now called to create such a center of German intellectual endeavor. The way he worked corresponded precisely to what the widest circles needed. He was not a cosmopolitan, but a man who lived at the height of education, who, through his own character, was rooted in the emerging German education, and who, through his immersion in French taste and the beauty of the old world, was able to broaden people's horizons. He may well have annoyed Goethe with the first issues of the "Mercur", who had expected great things in his youthful urge and now thought he was only looking at a medium level of education; however, Wieland met the needs of his time and satisfied them.

"History of the Abderites"

[ 24 ] However, Wieland was not a man who flattered people's weaknesses. He showed this most clearly when he began his novel "Geschichte der Abderiten" in the second volume of "Mercur", although its completion was delayed until 1780. - The plot is also set in a distant place and time. It describes the goings-on in the small Thracian town of Abdera. The well-traveled, well-versed Democritus is placed in the midst of a population who, in their foolishness, understand nothing of his greatness and yet, in their naïve arrogance, judge everything the wise man says and does. The "Abderites" alone are suitable to give Wieland a permanent place in German literary history. Human narrow-mindedness, silliness, arrogance, lack of judgment, nosiness, etc. are portrayed here with the most delicious satire. Abdera is mentioned, but "all the world" is meant. Wieland had experienced enough of this kind of Abderitism in Biberach and Erfurt. This novel not only brilliantly portrays those who understand nothing in the narrowest of parochial politics and participate in everything in order to accomplish the most stupid things, but also those who are least aware of it. After all, they are often the ones who are up to their eyeballs in philistinism and philistinism. They see the philistine in everyone else; their arrogance and self-delusion protect them from discovering it in their own nature. Wieland portrays this type with inexhaustible humor. And the portrayal is really such that it fits all times and countries. All criticism of the unevenness of this novel, all criticism of the poor composition at this or that point should fall silent in the face of the delicious humor that permeates the whole, and above all in the face of the universality with which all sides of more or less open or secret philistinism come into their satirical own.

[ 25 ] A number of other achievements date from Wieland's first Weimar period. The poem "An Psyche", later called "Die erste Liebe", and the story "Der Mönch und die Nonne auf dem Mittelstein", which was later called "Sixt und Klärchen", should be mentioned here. "Die erste Liebe" was written in 1774 for the wedding of the Weimar court maid Julie von Keller to the Gotha chief magistrate von Bechtolsheim. The young lady, who wrote the poem herself, was generally regarded as an extraordinarily charming figure. Wieland, however, put into the poem the feelings he had retained for Sophie la Roche, whom he had loved in his youth. He himself considered the poem to be one of his best. (Cf. his letter to Sophie la Roche of August ro, 1806.)

[ 26 ] In the narrative poem "Sixt und Klärchen", which appeared in the "Teutschen Mercur" in 1775, Wieland draws on a legend linked to the two rocky peaks on the Mittelstein (or Mädelstein) near Eisenach. In these rocky peaks, the imagination can see two people embracing. Legend has it that they are a monk and a nun who were petrified here as punishment for their embrace. This is the only time that Wieland treats a German subject. Otherwise it is old-world or new but foreign material that he deals with. - Duchess Amalie was so pleased with Wieland's creation that he treated it again for her in the cantata "Seraphina", for which the Weimar composer Ernst Wilhelm Wolf provided the music. - In 1776, the poetic story "Gandaliin, oder Liebe um Liebe" was published, whose subtly ironic tone was extremely popular with Wieland's circle of friends.

Goethe in Weimar

[ 27 ] While Wieland was gaining love and esteem in wider circles, especially in his immediate Weimar circle, Goethe appeared in Weimar in 1775 (November 7) at the invitation of Karl August. The first meeting of the two men in the city, where they were to live together as friends for a long time to come, was preceded by something that put Wieland to a hard test and showed his character and essence in the most beautiful light. Shortly before this, Goethe had written the wicked farce "Gods, Heroes and Wieland", in which Wieland had been mocked in the worst possible way. Goethe had probably not originally thought of publishing the mocking poem, but then allowed it to be published. The mockery was provoked by Wieland's imprudence. In 1773, Wieland had written letters to a friend about the German Singspiel "Alceste", in which he placed his Alceste above Euripides in certain respects. In this farce, Goethe bitterly rejected what he considered to be naïve vanity. Wieland had already shown greatness of character in that he brought the farce into the "Mercur" quite objectively and by fully recognizing its good qualities. He was so little swayed by it against Goethe that he did not in the least alter the opinion he had previously formed of the latter's poetic genius. Nevertheless, the way Wieland behaved both inwardly and outwardly at his first meeting with Goethe in Weimar was a masterpiece of strength of soul. The whole of this behavior is illuminated with a bright ray when one considers the letter that the man who had been so badly affected shortly before wrote to Jacobi on io. November 1775 to Jacobi: "Goethe arrived in Weimar on Tuesday, the 7th of this month at 5 o'clock in the morning. O, best brother, what can I tell you? How completely the man was after my heart at first sight! How enamored I became of him as I sat at table that very day at the side of the splendid youth! All I can tell you now, after more than one crisis that has been going on in me these days, is this: since this morning my soul has been full of Goethe, like a drop of dew from the morning sun." Soon afterwards, Wieland wrote to Zimmermann about Goethe: "In all observations and from all sides, he is the greatest, best, most glorious human being that God has created." - A beautiful friendship based on full mutual recognition, respect and love developed between the two personalities, which lasted for a long time. Goethe not only appreciated Wieland as a person and as a poet; he also enjoyed spending time in his house and was always able to emphasize to friends what wonderful times he had had with Wieland and his friends. In his poem "To Psyche", written in 1776, Wieland sketches a brilliant picture of Goethe, completely imbued with true understanding and the most devoted admiration. Both Wieland and Goethe were visiting the estate of Frau von Keller near Erfurt at the beginning of 1776 with the aforementioned Frau Julie von Bechtolsheim. This visit, during which Goethe probably read scenes from his "Faust", inspired Wieland to write the above-mentioned poem.

Poetic tales

[ 28 ] As Goethe was particularly impressed by Wieland's poetic stories, he felt encouraged to write more of this kind. Through the "Winter Fairy Tale", written in 1776, the style and mood of the oriental fairy tale of "One Thousand and One Nights" found its way into German poetry. In contrast, the "Summer Fairy Tale", written a little later (1777), was borrowed from the legend of King Arthur and his Round Table. Wieland found the material in the "Bibliotheque universelle des Romans". This fairy tale is written in the tone of light artistic play, through which Wieland introduced the German public to a circle of legends that had been almost forgotten since the Middle Ages. Goethe and Merck, as well as others, held it in high esteem. The short poem "Hann und Gulpenheh, oder: Zuviel gesagt, ist nichts gesagt" (Hann and Gulpenheh, or: Too much said is nothing said), written in 1778, is based almost exactly on an oriental tale. The story comes from a Turkish novella collection "The Forty Viziers"; and Wieland found it in the "Bibliotheque universelle des Romans". - The poem "Der Vogelsang, oder die drei Lehren" is also from the same period. The material is borrowed from a translation of "One Thousand and One Nights", which Galland had published under the title "Contes Arabes". Here, Wieland has the opportunity to portray a king as he should not be. The content of the story is not unrelated to an essay that Wieland had published shortly before in "Mercur" on "The Divine Right of Authority". In it, he argued against what he considered to be the one-sided view that no power from above should impose a right on a people, but that all rights must emanate from the people themselves. Wieland, on the other hand, argued that the circumstances of life could not be governed by such abstract demands, but that the course of history meant that government fell to one or the other. - "Pervonte, or the Wishes" is adapted from an Italian folk tale. The first two parts were written in the spring of 1778, but the third was not added until 1795. Wieland also found this material in the "Bibliotheque universelle des Romans". But it is precisely this poem by Wieland that shows what free, rich imagination and complete mastery of form can make of a given material. At Wieland's funeral (1813), Goethe said to Falk about this creation: "The sculpture, the willfulness of the poem are unique, exemplary, indeed completely priceless. In these and similar products, it is Wieland's true nature, I would even say at its very best, that gives us pleasure."

"Oberon"

[ 29 ] Wieland reached the pinnacle of his creativity in his "Oberon". This romantic epic was written between November 1778 and February 1780 and was published in "Mercur" in the first months of 1780. Two intellectual currents flowed together in this poetic work. One arose from Wieland's interest in the character of Oberon, the fairy or elf king in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. The second came from the "Bibliorh&que universelle des Romans" so often used by our poet. It is the story of a knight from the time of Charlemagne, Huon of Bordeaux. According to an old book of chivalry, it was incorporated into the aforementioned French library through an excerpt prepared by Count Tressan. - Wieland has now interwoven the quarrel and reconciliation of the ghost king Oberon with his wife Titania with the love and knightly adventure of the old Frankish hero, who travels to the Orient to conquer his wife under the greatest dangers and battles, and who then has to undergo the strongest tests of courage, privation and loyalty with the latter before he achieves his happiness. These tests are imposed on him by Oberon himself. For the test of his and his wife's fidelity must also lead to a turn for the better in the fate of Oberon and Titania. - In the most beautiful way, our poet develops these threads, half earthly, half supernatural, in true Romantic style. The whole can be followed like a grandly unfolding dream plot. For just as the dream creates and resolves conflicts, so it happens here. But the progress is always based, if not on an external, then all the more on an inner spiritual necessity and lawfulness. And this regularity is completely dramatic throughout the long twelve cantos. The treatment of verse and language is masterly in every respect. Goethe fully recognized all this and therefore wrote to Lavater after the poem was published: "Oberon will be loved and admired as a masterpiece of poetic art as long as poetry remains poetry, gold gold and crystal crystal." - Many have objected to the composition of the poem, believing that the poet has not fully succeeded in uniting the two plots linked to the couple Huon and Rezia on the one hand and Oberon on the other. Anyone who penetrates into the basic romantic character of the whole cannot make such an assertion. In such a style, the free interplay of motifs, the weaving in a dreamlike twilight, is not only possible, but quite appealing. And with such a style it is inadmissible to demand a strictly realistic motivation, an intellectual, dry clarity. Wieland also felt completely in his element during this work. He wrote to Merck on August 19, 1779: "My fifth and sixth cantos seem to me, entre nous, so good that it only annoys me not to be able to keep such a work until after my death. Then, I am sure, it would make a sensation from its rising to its passing." In a letter to a friend in Zurich, he calls Oberon the best thing that his head and heart have produced together since the former matured and the latter became calmer. When the work was published, Goethe even delighted his friend with a laurel wreath, to which he added the following significant lines: "When reading your Oberon, I would often have wished to testify my applause and pleasure to you quite vividly; there are so many things I have to tell you that I will probably never tell you. But, you know, the soul falls from the manifold into the simple when it thinks long; therefore, instead of everything, I send you here a sign, which I beg you to take in its primitive sense, as it is very significant. Receive from the hands of friendship what fellow and posterity will gladly confirm to you." It is by no means too much to say that many of the best of his age were quite in line with Goethe in their judgment of "Oberon".

[ 30 ] In a style similar to that of Oberon, Wieland then worked on a story whose basis was taken from an Italian novel of the sixteenth century: "Clelia and Sinibald, a legend from the twelfth century." However, he was unable to reach the heights of the former work. - The short story "The Water Skid" was also begun at that time, but was probably not completed until 1795.

[ 31 ] Through the latter creations, Wieland became the father of the important intellectual movement known as "German Romanticism". Even if he is less often mentioned in this context, in essence he certainly belongs in this direction with some of his finest achievements.

[ 32 ] Between all these works lies the three-act Singspiel "Rosamund", which was intended for performance on the Mannheim stage in 1777. In order to attend the latter, Wieland traveled to Mannheim in the winter of 1777 to 1778 and, to his deepest satisfaction, was able to meet the admirer of his muse, Goethe's mother, Frau Rat in Frankfurt am Main, who was a friend of his. - This was a very fruitful time for Wieland's work. The light dramatic works "La Philosophie endormie" and "Pandora" were also written during these years. The inspiration for the essay "Einige Lebensumstände Hans Sachsens", which was written in 1776, came from his correspondence with Goethe.

Wieland and older schools of thought

[ 33 ] Lavater's "Physiognomics" prompted Wieland to write "Thoughts on the Ideals of the Ancients" in 1777. In such prose writings, the richness, diversity and style of his mind became apparent. What can be said of these "Ideals" in this direction also applies to the "Dialogues in Elysium" written in 1780, the "Conversations on Some Recent World Events" (1782), the "Conversations with the Gods" (1789 to 1793) and especially the "Introduction to the Seventh Letter of Horace" (1781 to 1782), the "Epistle to a Young Poet" (1782). In the latter, he turns against immature young poets who turn to famous personalities in the belief that they are special geniuses, often making them quite uncomfortable. As editor of the "Mercur", Wieland naturally had to endure such an onslaught in particular. - The essay "Was ist Hochteutsch" (What is High German) belongs to the year 1782. Wieland also worked as a translator during this time. He published "Horace's Letters" (1781 to 1782), his "Satires" (1784 to 1786) and "Lucian of Samosata's Complete Works" (until 1789). - In his light, witty manner, he treated the much-maligned cynic Peregrinus Proteus (in the "Secret History of the Philosopher pp.") from 1789 to 1791, for whom he acted as advocate, as he did a few years later for the often-attacked Apollonius of Tyana in the novel "Agathodaemon". In this last work, he had the opportunity to address the cultural conditions at the time of the emergence of Christianity and its first form itself. He knew how to treat this difficult subject with spirit and dignity, in his own way. He was no less successful in doing this for the conditions in Greece at the time of the fourth century BC in the novel "Aristipp and some of his contemporaries" (1800). The work is written in epistolary form and shows an in-depth knowledge of the period from which the material originates. And this knowledge has been artistically processed in the free, intelligent drawing of personalities and events. - The poet also chose the epistolary form for two other stories that deal with a somewhat later culture in a similar way: "Menander and Glycerion" (1802) and "Krates and Hipparchia" (1804). In the first work, Wieland wants to give an unvarnished picture of Greek love life; in the second, he wants to show that the idea of a spiritualized conception of love was not at all alien to this life. - A number of novellistic stories are combined under the overall title "Das Hexameron von Rosenhain".

Wieland's last works

[ 34 ] In 1804, "Euthanasia. Conversations on life after death". Here, Wieland turned against the narrow-minded notion that virtue only acquires its value through its reward in a future life, rather than carrying it within itself.

[ 35 ] Of occasional poems, the following are worthy of attention due to the beauty of their language and the warmth of their content: "To Olympia" and "On October 24, 1784". They are addressed to Duchess Amalia, his "Olympian patron queen", while "Merlin's prophesying voice" is addressed to the hereditary princess Maria Pavlovna. The latter poem marks the end of Wieland's poetic career.

[ 36 ] Wieland's patriarchal nature was often emphasized in his circle of friends. And for the quiet nature of his Weimar life, which flowed with participation in all things human, this description is certainly apt. His personal existence is characterized by this calmness and a harmony of soul that is quite congenial within certain limits, and this is also reflected in all his later creations. Only in such a way was it possible to find the tones that we encounter in "Aristippus", only such inner unity can the spiritual irony with which Athenian life at the time of Pericles is richly depicted. The character portrayal of Socrates in this epistolary novel also stems from the same view of life and attitude. - For all the unpretentiousness of his nature, Wieland imprinted his own character on all his works. It has been shown that he borrowed his material either from other literary creations or from cultural and intellectual history. As such, he knew how to put his stamp on the foreign, the appropriated. Its significance lies in the way it is treated. And this form of Wieland's independence can even be seen in his translations of Lucian, Florazen and Cicero.

[ 37 ] Nowhere are his translations literal, but they are always real conquests of the foreign for German intellectual life.

Wieland's last years

[ 38 ] The effect that Wieland achieved is probably best expressed in the fact that the Göschen publishing house in Leipzig was able to begin a complete edition of his works in 1794, even in four different editions. This had grown to 36 volumes by 1802. - From 1797 onwards, the poet was able to live on the Osmannstedt estate, which he had purchased. Wieland's long-desired quiet solitude was marred by the fact that in September 1800 he had to watch Sophie Brentano, the granddaughter of his childhood friend la Roche, who had become very dear to him, pass away at the most beautiful age. She had visited Osmannstedt twice, in 1799 and 1800, the first time with her grandmother. The other loss that hit Wieland was the death of his wife in November 1801. - He was no longer able to stay on his estate alone; he sold it and spent the rest of his life back in Weimar. - He had to mourn loved ones even more often, such as Herder in 1803, to whom he was deeply attached as a friend, Sophie la Roche in February 1807 and the noble woman to whom he owed so much, Duchess Amalie, in April of the same year. In 1806, he also witnessed the storm of war that blew over Germany and, like Goethe, got to know Napoleon personally. The latter even decorated him with the Legion of Honor. In the period that followed, Wieland was even quieter than before, since the friends mentioned were still alive. He also knew how to enjoy and make use of this peace and quiet. And on January 20, 1813, the life of the octogenarian died quietly and calmly. He was buried on the 25th in the Osmannstedt garden, which used to be his property and where Sophie Brentano and his wife are buried. There is a small memorial on the grave with the inscription: "Love and friendship embraced the kindred souls in life / And their mortal lives are covered by this common stone." - Goethe gave a funeral oration honoring his friend in the most beautiful way in the "Amalia" lodge of the Freemasons, which Wieland had joined in 1809.

[ 39 ] If Wieland's posthumous fame could not be fully realized by the great stars Lessing, Schiller and Goethe, the greatest of the three, Goethe himself, did much to ensure that the esteemed contributor to the development of German intellectual life was given his due.

Translated by Antje Heymanns

When we look at what seems to have run like a kind of Leitmotif through this winter’s lecture cycle, when we focus on what lives within man as his nature and which we observe not only once between birth and death, but which we presuppose to exist in repeated Earth lives—then the question about the foundation of man’s development in his one life, in one earthly incarnation, appears to become quite essential for us, especially in our present time. Because the human being of the present certainly questions and searches when he encounters the peculiar manifestations of predisposition, talent and education of human beings. However, as he is not much inclined to look away from what appears to be manifesting itself in a life, and to focus his gaze instead on the real builder, the actual creator within a human being, then even the questions of this contemporary will easily assume the character of a half-measure, of vagueness. You see, when one presumes that something exists in human nature that like the actual inner enlivening force runs through many lives, then one encounters the completely enigmatic nature of this human being that is worthy of exploration. Then one will want to see questions about predispositions, talents and education in a completely new light, in a very different light from how they can be seen, when one’s gaze focuses only on what is presently so often emphasised: heredity, predispositions inherited from one’s ancestors. It is not as if Spiritual Science wants to turn the eyes away from that what is expressed in inherited characteristics—it is not so that it ignores all careful observations of all that what the outer senses and the intellect focussed on these could say. However, Spiritual Science knows that all this relates to the very essence of man like something that man uses by taking it in, just as in physical life the outer matter is absorbed by the small germ of a living being who determines its own form out of itself; yet what is supposed to enable it to express this form in its external life—the substantial, the material—it acquires from its environment. By and large, we must recognise the way a human being lives as a confluence of everything that comes into being at birth, with that in which man’s essence and individuality will be embedded and from which it draws its spiritual and soul nourishment.

For example, if we as educators have tasks concerned with a human soul who steps into existence and from hour to hour, from week to week reveals more and more of its inner abilities; if we face a human being who is growing up like a holy riddle that we have to solve, that has come to us from infinity so that we provide it with an opportunity to unfold itself and to develop, then a whole sum of new tasks, new views, new possibilities will indeed arise for all human relationships in existence. Thus we see a human being step into existence at birth and presuppose that, in a certain way, he brings the core of his being at birth into existence. If we do not look at catchwords and theories but at facts, then external natural science also shows us how this spirit and soul core of a human being continues to work on a child even after its birth, and how what we encounter as bodily organisation changes, and is plastically shaped under the influence of spirit and soul. External science, for example, can also illustrate how what we must first see as a tool for external activities, how this brain, when it is stepping into existence at birth, is a still an undefined, yet still quite plastically malleable matter in a human being; and how, what he endeavours to absorb of spiritual treasures of his environment, penetrates forming and shaping the plastic matter of our brains like an artist and works on it.

If we make the assumption—and this is a fact and has been mentioned several times already in different contexts—that a human being, who, after birth, would helplessly be placed on a lonely island, cannot acquire the ability to speak, then we must say: The spirit and soul content that we meet wrapped up in language from birth onwards is not something that emerges from man’s inner being, it is not merely attached to his disposition, or something that he receives, as it were, without the influences of his spirit and soul environment—like he receives his second set of teeth at age seven due to inner predisposition—instead speech is something that works on a human being. Speech works like an actual sculptor, who, as it were, forms the brain. We can well follow, also externally, scientifically, this sculpturing of the brain throughout the early times, yes, even for years. If it will then anatomically and physiologically be proven that human language ability, memory for certain language concepts, is bound to one or another organ and each word is, as it were, kept like a book in a library, then we are allowed to ask: What has shaped the brain for this initially? And we can answer: The same that existed as spirit and soul in the language vocabulary in a human being’s environment.

This shows us, that in regard to a human being’s entire soul-development, we have to differentiate everything he experiences in his thoughts, imaginations and feelings—also in his will impulses and emotions—everything, so to speak, that is merely inner experience, from something else that remains an inner experience so that it intervenes in the outer physical organisation, plastically sculptures it, and thus shapes it into a tool for future mental capabilities or future spirit and soul life. This can be illustrated best by tracking one ability of a human being throughout his life, that shows quite different sides, although these different sides have been repeatedly thrown together by external psychology: when we follow our memory.

When we acquire something through our memory, by memorising, then we do this by way of tools, of which one of the main ones is repetition. We have then made it our own, and are able to repeat it. Yet everyone knows the awkward thing—forgetting; because things are forgotten again, disappear from our memory, so that we are unable to reproduce them at a later date. Or aren’t you able to remember how much you had to learn and recite by heart in your youth, and how much of it you are no longer able to recite by heart? But does really everything disappear that we have memorised?

We will now only consider that of which man will say later: I have forgotten it —namely that which he is unable to retrieve so that he can reproduce it. Is it really completely gone? It is present in a similar way to what has already been mentioned, which in normal human life is always forgotten: like the wonderful, rich, first experiences of childhood are forgotten. In our normal human life, we can only remember back to a certain point in time. Yet prior to this point in time we have gained infinitely many impressions. Who would not acknowledge this, if he would observe the development of a child in its first life years in a really unbiased way.

But is it forgotten in the sense we normally speak about forgetting? Is it really not there at all? Does it no longer play a role in the human soul? Yes, it does play an important role in the human soul. Because what our first childhood impressions are like, whether we experience joyful or sad things, love or indifference, these or other outer impressions, on these depends infinitely more than what is usually thought—such as what someone is capable of doing later in life—depends on the overall mood and the entire constitution of his soul.

What is forgotten in the early years is more important than is generally acknowledged, as it forms and shapes us in our soul being. This is also the case with what we learn later—we forget the wording, the thought, but it remains in us as a certain mood of soul. If a person learnt at a certain age, for example, ballads or other literary works about great heroes with very specific tasks, with quite defined characteristics, then he might forget the thoughts and occurrences and so on, and will not be able to reproduce them; but what he has learnt remains within the structure of his own character, maybe as soul strength, or as a way to face life and allow joy and sorrow to approach him.

What we forget turns into moods, sentimental values, yes, into will impulses; it becomes what rests more or less unconscious within our soul life, yet it still works and forms within us. Only sometimes, through very particular processes later in life, it is revealed that those forgotten things are actually not quite forgotten. Because, if one takes relevant measures and places something familiar in front of someone’s soul, then that person will remember something that was seemingly forgotten. Thus one can prove that the memory is still present within him, but something like a blanket has been put over it in the unconscious layers of his soul life. In this way we can really see how what we forget, what disappears from our memory works formative and creative on our soul, and then often reveals itself in the mood with which we face joy and suffering, in our courage, in our bravery or cowardice; or also in our fearfulness and anxiety towards life. What we see sinking down, as it were, out of the treasure trove of memory into our more subconscious, works creatively on our soul itself. Basically, we ourselves are what the things we have forgotten have made of us. Because what else is a human being actually, than the way how he enjoys, how he can be brave, and so on! If we look at a human being not in an abstract but in a concrete way, then we have to say:

The human being is the harmonic interweaving and inter-play of his characteristics, so that he himself is limited by what flows down into deeper levels of his consciousness. We observe this in the course of life.

From all that has been taken into account so far, and from what is still to be added, it can follow that the soul-spiritual that sinks into deeper layers, sinks even deeper when a human being crosses the threshold of death. Because every time when someone, through what he absorbs, wants to work formative on his external physical organisation during his life, he finds that in this life a particular organisation already exists. This is shaped one way or another, he enters life with these or other dispositions. That what is creative in our souls must storm against this. Let's assume that through what we absorb courage could be build up within us as a trait. But if we have an organisation that is more suited to being chicken-hearted than to be a courageous human being, then we must more or less fight against something that we have got in our life from our structure. When we go through the time between death and a new birth, the essence of this human development lies in us creating in advance the archetype, the original shape of our new physical body, for our new physical earthly structure.

There we do not meet any limits and resistances such as are presented to us between birth and death. We build plastically with what we have obtained during life, the basis, the basic strengths for a new corporeality within wider limits than it is the case between birth and death. Hence we may say: Those forgotten concepts, which only affect our soul during our life between birth and death, work to shape our next physical organisation when we step through the portal of death, until the time of our re-incarnation, and work themselves into what is connected with our new bodily structure. In this way, we will stride through birth into our new existence with such dispositions that reach down into even deeper levels of our being than those ideas that were forgotten in the life between birth and death.

From all of this it becomes quite understandable that the human being, because he brought forth from life, from his immediate environment, the causes for the organisation of a new corporeality, that he indeed needs in a certain way the same conditions again.

It is different with animals, where, as we have seen from observations on the ‘human soul and animal soul’ and ‘human spirit and animal spirit’, the organisation is determined by line of heredity. There the animal appears with wholly defined tendencies that want to express themselves plastically, because these tendencies were not derived from the animal’s environment. Let us consider how little an animal acquires from the external world through education or conditioning, and how little it therefore needs a stage, located in the outer world, to bring out again what has been absorbed of educational principles. The human being, however, needs such a stage. Therefore he steps clumsily into this world, steps into the world so that we once again only have to put the finishing touches to the finer formation of his organisation. This explains the living and weaving of man’s individuality, of his true essential beingness, in the early years of his existence. Therefore his spirit organ, his brain, steps plastically determinable, malleable into existence, and basically, only after birth the last decisive pathways, lines and directions are added, that determine how the predispositions must be realised.

This illustrates, how what matters in regard to development needs to be viewed as something that came across from earlier developmental stages, and therefore it is less important to have defined, stubborn educational principles, than to look at each individual human being, at each individuality as a problem, as a holy riddle that needs to be solved, and that it is up to us to create opportunities, so that this riddle is solved in the best possible way.

An education is uncomfortable if it cannot establish any firm educational principles at all, but instead has to appeal to a principle that is related to the artistic within the educator, to observe what emerges from the essential nature of a human being. It is even more inconvenient than someone saying in a regimented way: these or those abilities are to be expressed in this way or that way. But we only have the right attitude towards the growing human being if we regard him in each case as an individuality, as something special in itself.

Although if one insists on seeing things trivially, and some people have a talent for seeing everything trivially, you could say: Individuality does not only show in a human being, but also in each single animal. Of course it shows. No one speaking from the basis of Spiritual Science will deny this. I have often said, that if one speaks about individuality in this sense, then one must be more precise, must be conscious, that if one wants to see things trivially, you can also speak about the biography and individuality of a quill. I knew a man, who—because in his days nibs were still cut from goose quills—was able to distinguish between the quills, because everyone cut their own quills, each one developed a personal relationship with him. And because the latter had an excellent fantasy, he would have been able to write a detailed biography of every single quill. However, as far human beings are concerned, it is not about applying the standard of triviality, but a standard drawn from the depths of realisation.

It is just through such observations that we can see the way and manner in which a human being forms and shapes his actual being, plastically forms his outward appearance, his outer organisation and lives out his actual being in it. From this, in turn, we can see how life happens in the early years and how it reshapes and remodels itself with the development of man, and what it utilises of what it can absorb from its environment. In the first years of a human being’s life we find that it is of very special importance to preserve for him his abilities, so to speak, to intervene plastically, malleably in his physical or body and soul organisation, and that we do not block the opportunity for him to intervene plastically.

We block someone’s opportunity most of all, if we stuff him too early with concepts and ideas that relate only to the external sensory nature and which have the strictest contours, or if he is pinned down to an activity that is theoretically confined to very specific forms. Then there is no variability, no modification, and no opportunity to develop the spirit and soul capabilities, in the way the soul is active from day to day, from hour to hour. Let us assume a father would be a terribly obstinate man, who has adopted the following principle:

My boy must become like I was! Throughout my whole life I have made shoes for my customers in this way, and my boy must make his shoes in the same way. My boy must think like me! Thus, into the environment of this boy a spirit and soul structure is brought, that works on his spirit and soul organisation just like it has worked on the father. Through this, the boy will be pressed into very specific forms, although this should be about exploring the individuality that steps into existence, and then, based on insight gained from this, shaping the spirit and soul organisation.

The educational instinct of humanity has already created a wonderful tool through general consciousness by which the human being in the early years of life is given the possibility to work on the changeable, the modifiable, the flexible of his spirit and soul, so that there is free scope for the forming of the human being. That is ‘play’. This is also the best way to keep a child occupied without giving it concepts that are bound into fixed contours, but such that give the thoughts room for manoeuvre, so that it can wander off here or there.

Only then one will find the course of thought that is predetermined by the inner predisposition. If I tell a fairy tale in such a way that it stimulates the inner activity of the child, without concepts being formed in pre-determined contours, but so that the outlines of the concepts remain flexible, then the child works like someone who tries and by trying attempts to find out what is right. The child works on finding out how its spirituality needs to move so that it can best sculpt its organisation in the way it is internally pre-formed. And it is the same with playing. Play differs from activity that is pressed into solid forms in that when playing one is to a certain extent able to do what one wants—so that one does not have sharp contours in thoughts and mobilities of organs from the outset. Hence, the soul-spiritual organisation of a human being will have an effect again in a free, determinable way. Play and the activity of the spirit and soul of the child in the first years of life, as just described, arise from a deep awareness of what the nature and essence of a human being really are.

Whoever who wants to become a real educator, will, also for the later years, definitely be conscious that indeed each single ability, as it were, must first be studied, recognised and determined in an evolving human being. Yet there is an opportunity to observe certain great principles. Such principles then lead us to the way in which the essential core of a human being, which stretches from birth to birth, utilises the external that lies in the line of heredity.

It is most interesting to focus on the way in which the spirit and soul core of a human being utilises the qualities, characteristics, virtues and so on, of father and mother, of paternal and maternal ancestors in completely different ways to build something new. And indeed: the paternal and maternal qualities are not equally used by the individual core of a human being, instead this is based on a very specific law. Just this law is infinitely instructive. If we attempt to grasp it in its completeness to fully see through it, then we must look at how two things assert themselves in the human soul. One of these is the rationality, to which we now want to add the ability to think in pictures, in concepts, faster or slower, cleverer or dumber. The other is the general direction of will and feeling, of the emotions, the interest that we take in our surroundings. The whole manner of how we are able to perform something, depends on whether we have a spirit that is agile or slow, or dull, or one that penetrates into things; if we are astute or not. What a human being is able to achieve for his fellow human beings and how we achieve it depends on us understanding of how to connect our interests in the right way to what goes on in our surroundings. Some people have good pre-conditions, but they have little interest in their fellow men and the environment. In this case the interest does not draw the abilities out. Hence it is necessary to pay as much attention to the interest within us, as to whether the flexibility of our rationality allows us to achieve this or that for our contemporaries.

Now, we can imagine that the whole kind of interest is linked to the way a human being’s desires are shaped, how the external approach to the entire life is organised, how a human being develops as being clever or clumsy. In short, the whole nature of the soul life—which is connected to our interactions with the external world and our greater or lesser interest and our skilfulness for this outer world—the most important elements for this are inherited by a human being from the father. Our interests and that which from these interests makes us skilful and capable to use our organs and our entire being, is as a rule an inheritance from the father. Thus the soul takes the appropriate elements from the father, so that it can form those characteristics within itself. In contrast, the intellectual agility, with which imaginative activity, pictorial imagination and inventiveness are connected, are received by our individuality when we come into existence at birth as heirloom from the mother’s characteristics. You will find that Schopenhauer has in a certain way hinted at this extraordinarily interesting chapter; he had an inkling of it, however, he was not in a position to also point out the deeper things.

On the other hand we are allowed to also say something else. In a certain way the following is borrowed from the father; how, what lives in the father as his manner of relating to objects, what his interests are, the desires towards objects, how he demands, wants, wills, if he is a brave man who courageously intervenes in life conditions or withdraws faint-heartedly, if he is pedantic or generous, also his characteristics that are connected to the will-impulses. By contrast, all that is flexibility of the soul, of the rationality, we find is passed on from the mother. Now, however, an interesting difference comes to light, which can only be observed when looking at the whole scope of life. Then you will find evidence of this everywhere; namely with regard to sex, there is a immense difference. It can be said that the relationship of a son to his father and mother is wonderfully described in Goethe’s words : “I’ve got my stature from my father, to lead a serious life,” this includes all that is related to the interactions of a human being with the external world. “From my mama I’ve got the cheerful nature, the joy to fabulate,” —this includes the entire nature of the spiritual life.

Yet when we now look at the daughter, it becomes apparent that in a peculiar way, the father’s qualities appear in the daughter so that they are now lifted one level above the nature of the will-impulses, from the nature that expresses itself more in the communications with the environment—into the soul.

Hence we can find a father’s qualities—of course this applies only in the same circumstances—who always courageously steps in, who has a lively interest in this or that, and therefore lives out a certain seriousness in his communications with his environment—are being adopted by the individuality of the daughter in such a way that they are lifted up into the soul, so that a daughter exists with a serious soul life, with the character life of the father translated into the soul which makes, what was probably viscous in the father, more flexible, so that the most important qualities that we encounter in the father as more external, show themselves as more internalised by the daughter.

Therefore we can say: the character traits of the father live on in the soul of the daughter; the soul characteristics of the mother, the alertness of the spirit as well as the talents and abilities that can be developed, live on in the son. Goethe’s mother, the old ‘Mrs Councillor’, was a women who was able to fabulate, in whom the fantasy functioned in the most wonderful way. This went down one level in the son, became an aptitude, an organisation, so that the son Goethe had the ability to give to humanity what lived in the mother. We can see, how the maternal qualities are lowered by one level in the sons, so that they are transformed into organ abilities; whilst the father’s characteristics are lifted up one level by the daughters, so that we encounter them as internalised and spiritualised.

Perhaps nothing is more characteristic than the beautiful contrast between Goethe and his sister Cornelia, who was just like the old Councillor, internalised, spiritualised a quiet, serious nature and thus was able to be for the poet, already in his boyhood, what he needed: an exceptionally good companion. Now take this into account and consider how Goethe, according to his description, felt unable to develop a favourable relationship with his father. This was because the paternal characteristics were externalised in the old Mr Councillor. What Goethe needed were these characteristics, but he could not understand them as they existed in his father, whom they fitted. Spiritualised they lived in his sister, who could thus be such a good comrade to him.

Now walk with me through history and you will see how each step confirms what has been said and how wherever you find hints, you could provide historical confirmation of such a matter. The most beautiful confirmation in this regard we got from the mother of the Maccabees , who with heroic greatness lets her sons face death for what she believes and what her fathers believed, with these great, beautiful words: “I have given you the outer corporeality; but the one who has created the world and human beings, has given you what I could not give you, and he will take care that you will get it back again, if you lose it for the sake of your faith!”

How often will just the maternal element be held up to us in history: from Alexander’s mother and the mother of the Gracchen to our present time, when we see characteristics appear in a person that show that someone is able to affect his surroundings, that he has the strength and talents and also the body and soul organisation for this. We could open the history of great man everywhere, wherever we wanted to: everywhere we will find the maternal characteristics translated in such a way that they have descended one level, and have become abilities placed into life. Let us take the example of Bürger's mother and his father, from whom he has also inherited the willpower characteristic. Basically, he did not have much in common with his father: his father was glad when he did not need to concern himself with the development of the little boy. Yet the mother had a wonderfully agile spirit; it was she who possessed the right grammatical and stylistic expression. This in turn was necessary for the poet, he inherited those traits from his mother, and they just came about because he belonged to the next generation. Or, let us think of Hebbel and the relationship he had with his father. Anyone who knows the poet Hebbel better will sense that in all the rough idiosyncrasies and stubbornness of interests there is a distant echo of his father’s legacy. In this respect, the old master bricklayer Hebbel has bequeathed much to his son. But the son and his mother understood each other. It was the mother who protected her son from becoming a master bricklayer in his birthplace, instead of later giving his dramas to mankind. It is quite touching to read how Hebbel himself tells in his wonderful diaries, what connected him with his mother.

These examples could be multiplied ad infinitum. Yet we should definitely not conclude that things are wrong, just because we believe to be observing life and encounter something different here and there. This would be like someone saying: The physicists verify for us the law of gravity; I will now, by way of installing many contraptions, prove to them, that this law can be impaired. Laws are not there for us to consider every single circumstance, but to focus on what is probable. This it how we must do it in natural science and how we must do it in Spiritual Science. Yet Spiritual Science is not at present advanced enough to proceed in a similar way. If one takes this into account, one finds confirmation of the above law of paternal and maternal heredity everywhere. Yet when looking at a whole human being, one must be clear, that what we call the human soul, and which expresses itself in the entire body and soul structure of man, is nothing simple. Again, one could have an unreserved will for trivialities and ask: ‘Why do you Anthroposophists have the quirk to distinguish three soul-members in the soul, and even multiple members in human nature? You are talking about a sentient soul, an intellectual soul and a consciousness soul. It would be much easier to talk of the soul as of a unitary entity in which one thinks, feels and wills.’ Yes, it is certainly more simple, more convenient—and also trivial. At the same time, this is something that scientific observation of a human being cannot in truth promote. Not out of a desire to divide and to make many words has the structure of the human soul into a sentient soul arisen—which means into the part, that initially establishes contact with the environment and receives perceptions and feelings from outside, and in which desires and instincts also develop. This then is to be separated from the part in which, in a certain sense, what has been gained has already been processed. We activate our sentient soul when we face the outer world, receive from it impressions of colours and sounds, but also by allowing that to come to the surface what we as normal human beings initially cannot control: our drives, desires and passions. But when we withdraw and process within what we have absorbed by way of perceptions and so on, so that what has been stimulated in us by the external world transforms itself into feelings, then we live in our second soul-limb, the intellectual or mind soul. And insofar as we direct and guide our thoughts and are not being kept on a leash, we live in the consciousness soul.

In ‘Occult Science’ or in ‘Theosophy’ you will see, that the three sheaths of the soul have even more relationships—of a different kind—to that what is in the external world. This is so not because we enjoy to categorise, but because what is called the sentient soul is related to the cosmos in a completely different way from what we call the consciousness soul.

It is the consciousness soul that isolates man, that leads him to perceive himself quite rightly as an internally self-contained being. What we call the intellectual soul, is what brings him into a relationship with his environment and the entire cosmos, hence he is a being that appears to be like an extract, like a confluence of the whole world. Through the consciousness soul man lives within himself, isolates himself. The main, most important thing that one experiences in the consciousness soul is that what amongst a man’s aptitudes is the latest one to be developed: The ability to think logically, so that we can form opinions, thoughts and so on. This rests within the consciousness soul. In relation to these characteristics, the individual core of a human being that comes into existence at birth is in fact the most inclined to isolation. This innermost core of a human being is the last to reveal itself. While its sheathing, its bodily organisation is the earliest to emerge, its actual individuality emerges last. But the way a human being currently is—he has been different in the past and will be different in the future—he actually develops his opinions, terms, concepts in the most isolated part of his being. These therefore exert the least influence on the overall construction and detailing of his entire personality and only emerge as aptitudes when the entire personality is already firmly established and plastically shaped.

There we see how the talents of man develop in a particular sequence. Firstly, we see what lives in the least isolated, separated element of the human being, in the sentient- or emotional soul. This has therefore the most strength to intervene in the entire human organisation. Hence we can see that getting close to a child with opinions, theories and ideas is least likely, when this sentient soul wants to shape these most intensely from within. We will only get close to a child when we affect its sentient soul—as I have presented in my essay ‘The Education of the Child from the perspective of Spiritual Science.’ Especially during the first life years one has to ensure not to develop theories or teachings, but that the child is instead encouraged to imitate, that one sets living examples for it to copy. This is of infinite importance, because this urge to imitate appears as one of the very first predispositions that one can influence. Admonitions and teachings are least effective during this time.

The child imitates what it sees, because it must form itself in accordance with its relationship to the external world. We lay the first foundation for the whole personal nature of the child, when during the first seven years we are living examples of what the child is allowed to imitate, when we can guess how we must behave in the presence of the child. However, this is for many a most peculiar educational principle. Most people will ask how the child should behave, and there comes Spiritual Science with its demands: the people should learn from the child how they must behave in its environment—down to words, attitudes and thoughts! Because the child is much more receptive in its soul than is generally believed, especially more receptive than an adult human being.

There are people with a certain sensitivity, who, for example, immediately recognise when a person comes in who is going to spoil the good mood. Even though little attention is paid to this nowadays, it happens incredibly often with children. And what you do in detail is much less important than the kind of person one endeavours to be, what kind of thoughts, of concepts one nurtures. It is not enough, that one keeps silent in front of the child about something, but allows oneself to think thoughts that are not meant to be for the child. But instead our thoughts need to be lived out in such a way that we have the feeling: this may live on in the child and should live on. This is inconvenient, but it is still right!

When the change of teeth has occurred, consideration will be given to what we may call ‘building on authority’—not building on what someone might do, but what he holds within himself as personality. It is most important that a child in the first years of life must be able to imitate what we speak, do and think, and in the second epoch perceives us as a human being on whom it can rely, so that it can say: What he does, is good! It is not so that we are admonishing the child from the seventh to the fourteenth, sixteenth year of life, based on the principle to develop a moral theory to show it that this must be done, that must be stopped—but rather we pass on to the child the best treasure, when its rational or intellectual soul can have the perception: What this human being next to me does, is good! I must refrain from doing, what he refrains from doing! — This is of infinite importance.

Only from the age of about fourteen to sixteen, does the possibility arise for a human being to build upon the most isolated part of his being, on the consciousness-soul, i.e. on that which forms in his consciousness soul: on his opinions, concepts and ideas. However, these must first have a solid foundation, and this must be created. If we do not create this by providing the opportunity through education, as the individuality allows us to recognise, and if we do not thereby clear the way for free development, then the human being will be seized by a different element: by the firmness of his hull nature. Then he externalises himself; his individuality, which goes from life to life, does not intervene, but he becomes a slave to his bodily organisation, which comes from the outside into the human being and subjugates him. Man shows this by not being master of his spiritual and soul part, but by being completely dependent on his body and soul organisation and showing rigid characteristics that are unchangeable. On the other hand, a human being in whom we took care to ensure that his predispositions are realised as far as possible, retains a certain flexibility throughout his whole life, and is also able to cope with new situations in later life. In comparison, in another person the organisation is externalised and takes on rigid forms, and that person retains them throughout his whole life. We live in an epoch, where the individuality of someone is little appreciated and hence there are few opportunities to convince oneself that the individuality is still agile and vigorous and able to cope with new situations and truths. We now arrive at a chapter in which we can gain insight into how some people simply must face life.

How many people, when they have looked into a world view and are convinced of it, try to convince others of it as well. They believe it is a very commendable effort when they say: Since I am seeing it so clearly, I should actually be able to convince everyone else of this! However, this is naivety. Our opinions are not dependent on something being logically proven to us. This is possible in the fewest cases. Because opinions and convictions of a person are formed out of completely different substrata of his soul—out of his will nature, his mind and emotional nature, so that a person can understand your logical arguments quite well, can follow your astute conclusions and then afterwards does not take them in at all, simply because what a person believes and what he professes does not flow from his logic or his understanding, but from the whole personality, namely from those limbs where will and mind arise. However, our thinking is the last of all our dispositions to emerge, when the bodily organisation has long since been completed. This is the most isolated field. This is where we find the least access to other people. We can reach more people, when we seize them in those parts that lie deeper: their mind and will. Here, intervention in bodily organisation still happens. However, if a human being grows up in a very materialistic sphere, lets say, where only material substance is deemed valid, then, during the time of his growing up, a sum of mind and will-impulses are formed that plastically shape his physicality and his brain. Later he can then acquire quite good logical thinking, but this no longer intervenes in the plasticity of his brain. Logical thoughts are the most powerless within the human soul. Therefore it is especially important to also find access to other people in the soul, not just in logic. If someone has already trained his brain in a certain way, then this brain, which only reflects the old concepts over and over again, cannot realise logic anymore because it has become physical. Hence, in regard to such world views, which are build on the purest, the sharpest of logic, as is the case with Spiritual Science, one cannot hope to be effective by going from person to person to convince someone. If someone, who understands the spiritual scientific impulse, would like to believe that he could convince people by persuasion or by way of logic—if for instance someone wants to believe that a spiritual scientist indulges in such illusion—then he is very much mistaken! Because in our era there is a large number of such people who, due to their overall personality, their will nature and emotional nature do not look out for what the spiritual world and spiritual research are. Out of the great mass of people who live around us, those who have a disposition for Spiritual Science will self-select, will go to what they dimly foresee, what they already have within their souls. A selection, a choice can only be made with regard to a worldview based on what is capable to purely encompass logic, human consciousness. Hence the Spiritual Scientist approaches human beings and knows how to differentiate between them: There is someone to whom you can preach for years, he is unable to grasp your thoughts. You first would have to make him conscious of this; would have to speak to his soul, but he himself is not able to reflect from out of his whole soul-toolkit, out of his brain. Another man is built in such a way that he can understand what Spiritual Science shows in its logically developed way, and he therefore also finds his way into what is basically already living in his soul.

In this way and manner we have to face the great cultural tasks of the present or the future. We need to recognise how the total personality of a human being relates to what a person, in the course of his development and education, is able to absorb incrementally of new truths, of such things that really must be united with his personality. When we have once again understood, that basically the soul-spiritual is the shaper, the sculptor, the artist for body and soul, then one will place greater importance on conducting the development of the spirit and soul in a human being in such a way that he can get a handle on it—especially in the years when he is open for education—and is powerful in regard to the way in which he can affect his body and soul. We have to be clear that a lot can be sinned against in this regard. We can see from our presentations, how human preference and so on, contributes much more to the formation of views than pure logic. One could only let pure logic alone speak when desires and instincts are completely silent. Prior to that we must be clear, that if we believe we have one-sidedly shaped a person’s aptitudes in a particular area, then what we have not considered will come to light in a peculiar manner.

Let us assume that we educate a man in such a way that we only bring to expression his abstract talents, as it is often done at school. Then the pure concepts and abstract ideas cannot intervene in the whole soul- and emotional life. This then remains undeveloped, uneducated and will confront us later in all kinds of trivial lifestyles. Later in life, two natures often become apparent. Even in people of high standing—if they have not been able to integrate within themselves what is located in the depth of personality—preferences, inclinations, likings, which are more deeply rooted assert themselves in other ways. Which examinee would not have experienced, that no matter how clever the examiner is who confronts him, who is able to maintain an overview over much of his science—the one-sidedness will come to expression by him having a preference for how the answers he wants to hear have to be worded. And woe betide many an examinee, if he doesn’t know how to put what he has to say into the words the examiner wants to to hear.

In this regard, in a book about psychology by Moriz Benedict, a lot of correct things were said about mistakes in human education. Also this, which is true: When two candidates were tested by two different examiners the misfortune happened that one candidate gave Examiner A answers shaped as if the Examiner B had asked the questions. If he would have given the answers to the other examiner, he would have passed the exam splendidly. And with the other candidate it was the other way round! Hence both failed the exams!

This can illustrate to us how what is indisputable can very well be clothed in logical forms. Yet as soon as we are not able to immerse our ideas in thought-education during our upbringing, no suitable field can be found to work from here formatively on man. How then must we behave towards the human being? In the time in which a person is preferably still being modelled plastically, and in which abstract concepts and ideas are least effective, we must behave in such away that we confront him with as few concepts and ideas as possible, and only with ideas that are as pictorial as possible. For this reason I have stressed that the pictorial, the illustrative—which is as little removed as possible from the actual picture, the form and contour—is taken up conceptually. Because what is absorbed in this way as a picture, as a form or as a figure of fantasy, has great strength to intervene in our bodily organisation. That the pictorial we encounter in the design intervenes in the physical organisation can already be deduced from seeing how little it helps to try and convince someone who is sick, who is in a particular situation, that he should be doing this, and refrain from doing that. This is of little help. But if you set up an apparatus, something like an electrifying machine , so that the sick person can form a picture for himself, and then give him two handles that do not let any current go through—as long as he has the picture in front of his eyes, he will feel the current, and that will help! But wherever it is so beautifully declaimed that imaginative power plays a major role, we must be clear, that this is not about any kind of imaginative power but only about visual imagination.

We live in an age in which it has become customary, to pay very little homage to the following principle of Spiritual Science—that a human being only becomes able to form concepts and ideas between the age of fourteen or sixteen and age twenty-one, twenty-two; that one then picks up concepts that are only to be shaped later. Instead, before this age, people nowadays become mature enough to write newspaper articles, which are either above the line or not up to standard, that are printed and then accepted by people. This then makes it difficult to keep abstract concepts away until the characterised age and to put the pictorial, the illustrative in front of a person’s eyes. Because the illustrative has the power to intervene in the organisation of body and soul.

You can always find confirmation of what I am saying now, however, one does not always pay attention to it. Moriz Benedikt , for example, complains that many college students are often quite clumsy in later life. Why is this so? Because the whole education is so nondescript, so little concerned with the illustrative and adheres only to abstract ideas even when languages are taught. In contrast, we can feel the illustrative that we encounter, right into our hand, because the objects themselves step in front of us as pictures.

It could be said, that if you want to imagine an object, you must move in such a way that you feel with your hand in a circle or in an elliptic shape the growing together with the object in pictures. It is not only imitating the manual dexterity, but also feeling and learning to love objects, that show us how a pictorial, an illustrative imagination twitches in our limbs, makes our limbs agile and mobile. Today we can find many people, who, if a button is torn off, are not able to sew on a new one. This is a great disadvantage. The most important things is, that we are able to intervene in the external world with everything we have. Of course, we cannot learn everything. But we can learn about how the spirit and soul slide down out of the spiritual into body and soul and make our limbs agile. And no one, whom we have instructed in his youth to try and copy the feeling of what is outside of him, will be a clumsy person later in life. Because what already lies below the threshold of our consciousness, can work most essentially on our organisation. This also applies to language. One learns a language best at a time when one is not able to understand the language grammatically, for at that time one learns with the part of the soul-being that belongs to deeper layers.

This is how humanity developed—and this is how the individual human being must develop. Elsewhere I have pointed out how Lorenz Müllner , in a school-director’s speech, drew attention to the St. Peter’s Church in Rome—how magnificent it stands there, how secretly the spatial laws are embedded within the mechanics of the cupola construction, so that one can see the spatial mechanics expressed in the most wonderful way. Now he pointed out though, that only through the laws which Michaelangelo expressed therein, and which Galilei subsequently by way of his high-flying spirit discovered, did Galileo give mechanical science to us. I have also pointed out, that the date of Michaelangelo’s death almost coincides with the birthdate of Galilei, so that the abstract laws of mechanics—which live in the consciousness soul of a human being—appeared later than that, what Michaelangelo had built into the space out of his deeper soul-members. Just as the higher members of the soul develop on the foundation of the lower ones, just as we have to develop our limbs based on our predispositions, so that we can look back on them and gain an understanding of them—so it works in every single life. In each individual life, too, man must be surrounded by human company, must place himself into that which immerses him in a kind of atmosphere, into the spirit and soul of our surroundings. Then, what a human being brings with him into existence, is shaped and built. But the human being does not only bring along what is given to him from the hereditary line, but something that will be determined in the most diverse way by a third, namely by the eternal individuality of the human being. This human individuality needs the inherited characteristics, must acquire and develop them. This also stands higher than that which comes into existence with our individuality. We step into existence at birth: A creative, productive spirituality acquires—when we cannot yet build any concepts—the plastic substances from the hereditary line. Only later the consciousness-soul is added. So we look at something individual within human nature, which plastically forms the capabilities and talents. When we become educators, it is our task to solve, what we consider to be a spiritual riddle, for each human being anew.

This all points us to a mood. When Goethe, at the excavation of Schiller’s bones found his skull and saw the distinctive forms, saw how the human individuality had worked on this, he saw: into this form the liquid spirit of Schiller had to pour itself, so that he could become what he did become, which Goethe was able to express thus:

What greater gain in life can man e'er know
Than when God-Nature will to him explain
How into Spirit steadfastness may flow,
How steadfast, too, the Spirit-Born remain.^*

Such an expression by Goethe needs to be understood in the context of the situation. If one takes it without looking at what it is that as spirit-made in firm shape is sculptured, misunderstands him. Nor does anyone understand him, who is unaware of the depth of Goethe’s insight into the eternal weaving of an individuality, who goes from birth to birth and always newly reincarnates, and who is the true architect of the human being. How we have received our organs from the spirit, which in turn are organs of spirit, basically could be said by simply using a childish comparison: the clock shows us time, but we could not use it, if it had not first been formed by the human spirit. — We need our brain for thinking in the physical world, but we could not use it for thinking, if the cosmic spirit would not have formed it. And we would not have sculptured it with such an individuality, if not our individuality had poured itself as a spiritual product into our brain, which was formed out of suitable human species substance. Then we understand more deeply, what we were able to say today, and what Goethe meant when he pointed towards that in a human being, which in his nature is determinative for all his talents and capabilities—as if the stars themselves would be perceived like any situation in the world, and how that which effects man’s inner being as something eternal, passes through the threshold of death only to advance to new forms of development. In short, we may summarise what we have observed today, in the mood of Goethe’s thoughts, which he expressed in the “Orphic Primal Words”:

As stood the sun to the salute of planets
Upon the day that gave you to the earth,
You grew forthwith, and prospered, in your growing
Heeded the law presiding at your birth.
Sibyls and prophets told it: You must be
None but yourself, from self you cannot flee.
No time there is, no power, can decompose
The minted form that lives and living grows. ^*

• *. Translator Unknown *
• *. Translator Unknown *

The title of this lecture series is, Spiritual Science's Answer to the Large Questions of the Present Time, published in German as, Antworten der Geisteswissenschaft auf den Grossen Fragen des Daseins.

It is a far cry from the great Zarathustra or Zoroaster, who formed the subject of our last lecture in this series, to the three great personalities who provide the subject matter of our lecture to-day, and the gulf of time which, in our imagination, we are called upon to span is wide indeed. It is a gulf which stretches from a time thousands of years ago, long before our Christian Era. A time which we can only understand by attributing to the human beings existing then a mental outlook utterly foreign to our own. From this distant standpoint of time, we pass to the 16th and 17th centuries of our own era, to the time when that spirit was first kindled which, ever since, has been the source and inspiration of all vital and progressive culture from then to the present day. As we shall see, this spirit, which burnt so fiercely in the 16th and 17th centuries in individuals such as Galileo and Giordano Bruno, found a fresh medium in a personality so near our own times as that of Goethe.

Galileo and Giordano Bruno are the two names we must mention when we review the beginnings of that epoch in our human evolution at which Natural Science had reached the same turning-point as Spiritual Science has reached to-day. The same great impulse which was then given to the thought of Natural Science will be, in a certain sense, given to this of Spiritual Science in the immediate future. Hence the importance of a comprehensive survey of the lines of thought and feeling of the men of that day, viz.: during the end of the 16th and the beginning of the 17th centuries—the time of Galileo and of Giordano Bruno—so that we may be able to understand their teaching in the full sense of the word.

Casting a retrospective glance over the centuries immediately preceding theirs, viz:—from the 11th to the 15th centuries, we must try and realize what at first sight appears to be the peculiar conception of the Science current in those days, and how wide was the field which the term then embraced. We must realise that during these centuries, Scientific Knowledge was viewed from an entirely different standpoint from that from which it is viewed to-day. The popular conception of Scientific Knowledge was then very different from the ideas which prevailed in later times and from those which prevail to-day. For we are now speaking of the days before the printing-press, of those days when, for the majority of the people, their sole means of participating in Spiritual and intellectual life was through the Church or the school, etc.—That is to say they could only learn from oral instruction. Hence the necessity, if we would understand those times, of obtaining a correct picture of the scientific methods pursued by the educated men of that day.

In the times preceding those of Galileo and Giordano Bruno, there was an impulse towards Science, but it was an impulse which is very difficult for the modern mind to understand. We can only understand it by placing ourselves, in imagination, in an entirely different mental atmosphere from that by which we are surrounded to-day. In those days, whatever auditorium you might have entered where Science was being taught, you would always have noted one thing. Let us take, for example, a lecture on Natural Science. No matter what branch of Natural Science it might be, whether Medicine or another, the lecturer would base all his deductions solely upon the authority of ancient writings, especially upon those of Aristotle. To-day, the lecturer on Science bases his thesis upon the results of modern investigation, carried out in such or such an institute, where scientific methods of research are followed. But the lecturer of the days preceding those of Galileo and Giordano Bruno based his thesis upon the ancient writings, especially upon those of Aristotle, which were the foundation of all Science in those days.

The figure of Aristotle stands out pre-eminent as an intellectual giant in the history of human progress; and the service he rendered to his time is unspeakably important. But, for the moment, the interesting point for us is the fact that the books of Aristotle were seldom read in the sense in which they were originally given, but the traditional rendering gave the tone, and was everywhere considered determinant.

No matter whether it were a question of the definition of a principle or of an axiom, or the question of any truth whatever, it was always referred to Aristotle. “Such was Aristotle's opinion on this point,” “you will find it expressed thus by Aristotle”. Now the modern investigator or the lecturer on Science, or even the popular lecturer, always emphasizes the fact that this or that has been observed in some place or another. But the scientific teacher in the centuries preceding Galileo and Giordano Bruno laid stress upon the fact that a few centuries ago, the great authority, Aristotle, made such or such an assertion upon such or such a question. Just as to-day we refer, in Spiritual matters, to the authority of the revelations of religious documents and tradition and not to personal investigation, so, in those days, teachers of Science did not refer to nature the observation of nature, but referred back to written authority. They referred back to the writings of Aristotle.

It is extraordinarily interesting to study a University discourse and to note how doctors and their colleagues relied upon the theories of Aristotle.

Now Aristotle was an intellectual giant; and though we must admit that even such an intellectual individuality should not be taken literally after the lapse of so many centuries, still, on the other hand, we must acknowledge that the works of Aristotle are so prodigious and so magnificent that even if they learnt nothing new, if men had studied Aristotle diligently, that is to say the original Aristotle, they would have accomplished a great deal. For the deeply illuminating teachings and theories of Aristotle could not have failed to have been of the greatest benefit to them.

This, however, was not the case. The lecturers of those days and the teachers who preached Aristotle in season and out of season, as a rule, understood nothing at all about him.

The doctrines taught in the time preceding that of Galileo and Giordano Bruno and claiming to be those of Aristotle were an almost incredibly mistaken version of his teaching. To-day, I will confine myself to showing you from the standpoint of Spiritual Science the place Galileo and Giordano Bruno took in the intellectual life of their time. I would call to mind in this connection an incident which is perfectly true and which I have often related before.

One of the most devoted adherents of Aristotle was at the same time a friend of Galileo's. Galileo, like Giordano Bruno, was an opponent of the followers of Aristotle, and with good reason, but not of Aristotle himself. Galileo maintained that men ought to go to the great book of Nature, which speaks so clearly to man, and learn from there the meaning of the Spirit in Nature. They should not rely entirely upon the books of Aristotle for their final authority. Now at that time, the School of Aristotle taught a marvelous doctrine concerning the seat of the nerves. Their theory was that the whole nervous system originated in the heart, that from the heart, the nerves spread to the brain and from thence spread over the entire body. “This”, said they, “is the teaching of Aristotle, therefore it must be true.” Galileo, who based his information upon the investigation of the human body, carried out by means of his physical eyes, and did not rely upon the teaching of ancient writings and ancient tradition, affirmed that the nerves had their seat in the brain and that the chief nerves originated in the brain. Galileo told this to one of his friends and wished him to see for himself and be convinced. “Yes, indeed, I will see it,” said the friend who took the opposite view, and he attended a demonstration on the human body. Then, indeed, this scholar, who was a devout follower of Aristotle, was greatly astonished and said to Galileo:—“It does indeed seem as if the nerves originated in the brain; yet Aristotle maintained that they originate in the heart. If there appears to be any contradiction here, I would believe in Aristotle rather than in Nature.” Such was the mental attitude which Galileo had to combat. Aristotle, or rather the distorted view of Aristotle, was dragged into all questions connected with Science.

To quote another instance:—A scholar of the Church wrote a treatise on immortality. Let us consider for a moment the method they employed in those days. They took their subject matter from the Church Doctrine, adding to that what they believed to be the teaching of Aristotle on the subject. Thus they used the words of Aristotle to support their own views, twisting his teaching so that they could claim its support, no matter from which side of the question, whether for or against, they wished to argue. To return to our scholar of Divinity. He had collected various passages from Aristotle in order to demonstrate the opinion of Aristotle upon the question of the immortality of the soul. Now this also is a perfectly true incident. The clergy had to submit their books to their superiors before publication. In this case, the superior objected to the book. “It is dangerous,” he said, “It would be better not to attempt it, for these extracts from Aristotle (in support of immortality) might also be used to support the opposite view.” The author of the book wrote back “If it is only a question of demonstrating more clearly the most acceptable meaning of Aristotle on this subject, then I will support it by another quotation, for one could quite well go on making quotations.” In short, from every point of view, Aristotle was used and abused.

From these two incidents, we can see how greatly Aristotle was misunderstood at the time of Galileo and Giordano Bruno. We will take the example of the origin of the nerves in the heart. The meaning of this statement is hidden. We can only understand it when we realize that Aristotle lived at the end of the period of ancient Greek culture and, therefore, at the end of the period of the old clairvoyant consciousness. Because Aristotle looked back into the past, he transmitted a Science that arose out of a clairvoyant consciousness which was able to see behind the material world into the Spiritual. It was this clairvoyant consciousness which had produced the old Science. The essence of this primeval Science was transmitted by the Greek culture as ancient Science, and this it was which Aristotle possessed. He was one of the last who recorded it. But Aristotle was not himself capable of developing that clairvoyant consciousness, for he only possessed an intellectual consciousness.

Note this well. Not without reason was Aristotle the first historian of Logic. This is because the intellectual argumentative thought was to become dominant. Thus, Aristotle assimilated the ancient teaching and reduced it into a logical system in his writings. Hence there is much in his writings which we cannot understand until we have learnt what it is he really meant. Thus, when he speaks of nerves, we must not ascribe to the word the meaning given to it to-day, nor the meaning it had even in the time of Galileo and Giordano Bruno, which was already related to our own. When Aristotle speaks of the nervous system, he means the Etheric Body of man. By which we mean the super-sensible part of human nature, which is closely connected with the human physical body. This Etheric body can now no longer be seen by man, the power of doing so having been lost during man's progressive evolution. Aristotle could no longer see it, but he knew about it, the knowledge having come to him from those times when the clairvoyant consciousness saw, not only the physical body, but also the Etheric Aura, the Etheric Body, which is really the builder and strength-giver of the physical body.

Aristotle drew his teaching from those times in which man perceived the Etheric Body as we now-a-days perceive colours. Thus, if you look at the Etheric Body instead of at the physical body, the former is truly the origin of certain currents. For Aristotle, this origin was not in the brain, but in the heart. The description given by Aristotle of these currents had usually been designated by the title of nerves. By those currents he did not mean nerves in our sense of the word, but he meant super-sensible currents, super-sensible forces. These proceed from the heart, flow to the brain and, from thence, are distributed to the various activities of the human body. These are matters which we cannot understand until we have learnt by means of Spiritual Science about the super-sensible parts and principles of human nature.

Man had lost the power of seeing clairvoyantly even so long ago as the centuries preceding Galileo and Giordano Bruno. Hence people had no idea that Aristotle was speaking of the Etheric Current. They thought he meant the physical nerves, so they asserted that “Aristotle states that the physical nerves proceed from the heart.”

Such was the contention of the devout followers of Aristotle. Those, however, who had studied in the book of Nature could not allow this. Hence the great battle between Galileo and Giordano Bruno and the School of Aristotle.

The followers of Aristotle completely misunderstood him; no-one understood the real Aristotle; Galileo and Giordano Bruno naturally did not understand him either, for they did not take the trouble to penetrate to the real meaning of the works of Aristotle. Thus Galileo and Giordano Bruno were the two great Intellectuals of their time, who turned away from the pedantry of the Scholastics and of book-learning to the great book of Nature itself, which is available to each and all

Professor Laurenz Muellner, for whom, as philosopher, I have the greatest admiration, refers to this in a lecture which he gave in 1894 as Rector of the Vienna University. In this lecture, he drew attention to the fact that the great Galileo, with his wonderful knowledge and grasp of all the great laws of mechanics, had discovered the laws which govern the distribution of space. Now it is just these laws which govern the operation and, distribution of space which strike the eye and stir the emotions so very forcibly when we see them exemplified in St. Peter's at Rome. This mighty building influences us all. And each one experiences something tangible, which we can all understand. Let me illustrate this by the following example:—Speidel, the Viennese journalist, and the sculptor Natter were driving in the neighborhood of Rome. As they approached the city, Speidel suddenly heard a most extraordinary exclamation from Natter, who was a very genial spirit. Natter sprang suddenly to his feet. His friend could not think what was the matter with him, for he only heard the words “I am frightened”. As Natter would say no more then, it was only later that his friend heard that the exclamation had been called forth by the sight of the dome of St. Peter's in the distance.

Something akin to terrified wonder at the effect of the marvelous distribution of space, created by the genius of Michelangelo, overwhelms all who see this wonderful building. Laurenz Muellner draws attention to the fact that it is owing to Galileo, that great thinker, that it has become possible for mankind to conceive mathematically and mechanically such an effect of space-distribution as meets the eye in the wonderful building of the dome of St. Peter's, at Rome. At the same time, we must not forget that Galileo, who discovered the laws of Mechanics, was born when Michelangelo, the builder of St. Peter's, was almost on his deathbed. This means that it was from the Spiritual forces of Michelangelo that that skill in the distribution of the laws of space arose, which was not available to the intellect of man until later.

From this, we must infer that what we may term intellectual knowledge, knowledge governed by reason, may come much later than the actual composition of matter in space.

If such matters are carefully and thoughtfully considered, it will be seen that human consciousness has undergone a change; that, earlier, men possessed a certain clairvoyance and that the manner of thinking with the intellect does not go back very far. This habit or manner of thinking with the intellect, owing to certain historical necessities, arose during the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Minds like those of Galileo and Giordano Bruno are the first harbingers of what was to come. Hence their fierce opposition to the school of Aristotle and especially to those who first completely misinterpreted Aristotle—who may be taken as the expression of the ancient wisdom—and then used their misinterpretation of him as an argument against Natural Science. We have now indicated Galileo's position in the world. He was, in the highest sense of the word, the man who first inaugurated the system of severe thought necessary for Natural Science, that system of the relation of Natural Science to Mathematics, which has continued on his lines from his day to our own.

What is it that distinguishes Galileo from all other men up to his time? It is the doctrine which he was the first to realize and which he preached with such noble courage, thus proving himself a child of his age. The feelings which possessed Galileo can be to some extent rendered in the following words, which will help us to understand his whole soul and attitude of mind. “Here we stand as men upon the earth. Nature spreads herself out before us, with everything requisite for our senses and for our reason, which is connected with the instrument of the brain through nature”. Galileo says this many times, in various passages in his works, as may be verified, ”through Nature speaks the Divine Spiritual. We men approach Nature, view it with our eyes and study it with our other senses. What we perceive with our eyes, what we receive through our senses, is implanted in Nature by Divine Spiritual Beings. At first, the thoughts of the Divine Spiritual Beings exist yonder; then, as if springing forth from the thoughts of these Beings, come the visible things of Nature as the revelation of. Divine thought. Then come our powers of perception and, above all, our reason, which is inseparable from the brain. There we stand, ready to spell out, as from the letters of a book, and to arrive at the author's meaning, that which Divine thoughts have expressed in Nature.”

Galileo took his stand firmly on the ground upon which all the great minds in the course of earthly evolution have taken their stand. He believed that the manifestations of Nature, the things of Nature, are as the letters of an alphabet, which express the mind of the Divine Spiritual beings. Thus the human mind exists that it may read what the Divine Spiritual Beings have written there, written in the form of minerals, in the course of natural phenomena, in the course of the movements of the stars. Human nature exists that it may read the thoughts of the Divine Mind. To Galileo, however, the Divine Mind is only distinguished from the human mind by the fact that everything that can be thought is thought by Divine Mind at once, in a single moment, unfettered by space or time. Let us apply this to any single field; to the field of Mathematics. We see at once how extra ordinary this conception is. If a student desires to learn all that has as yet been learnt by mankind about Mathematics, he will have or to toil at Mathematics for years. Then, as you know, man's conception of Mathematics depends greatly on time. Now, Galileo argued thus:—What humanity succeeds in grasping in the course of many years is conceived by the Divine thought in one second. Divine thought is unfettered by space or time. Above all, the human mind must not suppose that with its reason limited, as it is, by space and time, it can immediately understand the Divine Mind. Man must strive. He must observe each step. He must study each separate phenomenon carefully. He must not think that he can afford to ignore the phenomena, that he can leave out of account what God has planned as the foundation of the phenomena. Galileo affirmed that it was wrong not to wish to know the, true meaning of the wonderful manifestations which Nature unfolds, by means of human reason, that it was wrong not to strive to ascertain the truth by minute investigation. He affirmed that to endeavour to arrive at the truth by speculation, instead of studying carefully the details of the various phenomena, was an entirely false method of thought.

But the motive which prompted Galileo was quite other than those which give rise to similar language to-day. Galileo would not limit the human mind to observation because he denied the operation of the Divine Mind in Nature; on the contrary, just because the Divine Mind manifests itself in Nature and reveals itself as so great, so powerful and so wonderful; because (to the Divine Intelligence) all creative thought springs into being in a moment, while the human mind requires an eternity in which lovingly to decipher the letters of the Alphabet and can only arrive gradually at the detailed thoughts which they represent. It is humility at the thought of how far human reason is below the Divine Reason which prompts Galileo to warn his contemporaries. “you can no longer see behind the things of sense. Not because this was never possible to man, but because the time for doing so has gone by.”

Observation, experience and individual thought; these composed the standard which Galileo placed before his contemporaries. This he was able to do because, in a certain sense, his mind was cast in a mathematical mould and because his method of thinking was so rigidly mathematical. In illustration of this we will take the matter of the telescope. Galileo heard that a discovery had been made in Holland, by means of which it was possible to perceive the most distant stars in the firmament. We must bear in mind that there were no newspapers in those days. He only heard from travelers that some thing had been discovered in Holland of the nature of a telescope. Galileo could not rest till he had found out for himself what this was and himself invented a telescope by means of which he made the great discoveries which confirmed the theories which had recently been promulgated in the Copernican-cosmo-conception. In order to understand these things aright, we must remember these two facts:—that nothing was then understood of the old super-sensible science, and that Galileo was a pathfinder for the new science. Secondly, that a short time before, Copernicus had given a new aspect to the conception of the world through external thought concerning the movements of the planets round the Sun. We must put ourselves in the position of the men of that time and try to enter into the mentality of those who believed, as men had done for thousands of years before them:—“Here we stand on the firm earth, immovable in space.” To men with views such as these, the idea was now presented for the first time, that the earth was spinning round the Sun with incalculable rapidity. Such a conception literally out the ground from under their feet. We cannot be surprised at the excitement such an idea created in all, whether partisans or opponents. To minds like that of Galileo, the way by which Copernicus had arrived at his conclusions was particularly convincing. Let us examine in the light of the present time the means by which Copernicus arrived at his conclusions.

What made Copernicus arrive at the conception that the planets move round the Sun?

Up to his time, a theory of the universe had prevailed, which was itself not understood because it was intended to be taken in a Spiritual sense. As then understood, it was indeed an impossible conception. Men had to suppose that the planets described the most complicated movements—circles—and then circles within circles. It was precisely this terrible complication of ideas which had to be got rid of. This it was which was so obnoxious to certain types of mind.

In reality, Copernicus made no new astronomical discoveries. Be said to himself “Let us proceed along the simplest lines of thought in order to arrive at an explanation of the movements of the planets.” He expressed his system of the universe in the simplest of terms. And with what a wonderful result! The Sun was placed in the centre while the planets revolved around it in circles or in ellipses, as Kepler proved later. The whole conception of the universe was reduced to a wonderful simplicity.

It was this simplicity which so greatly influenced the mind of Galileo. For he always emphatically affirmed that “the human mind is capable of recognizing truth in its simplicity.” Beauty is to be found in the simple, not in the complex. And truth is beauty.

It was because of its Beauty and because of the simplicity of its Beauty that the Copernican theory of the system of the Universe was accepted by so many minds at that time. Galileo in particular accepted it because he found in the teaching of Copernicus that Beauty in simplicity for which he was seeking.

Now he could see the Moons of Jupiter, which hardly anyone would believe in. The eyes of Galileo were the first to see the Moons of Jupiter which encircle him as the planets do the Sun. It was a solar system in miniature. Jupiter with his Moons was as the Sun with his planets. This discovery confirmed the theories of a solar system constructed in accordance with a conception. It seemed so to Galileo, who applied the theory of Copernicus in miniature to a visible world. Hence Galileo was indeed a Pioneer of the New Science.

Thus it came about that he divided the presence of mountains in the Moons, that there were spots in the Sun and that the Nebulae extending across the stars were disintegrated worlds of stars. In short, all which may be expressed as the revelation of the Divine Wisdom expressed in the world of sense. All this made a tremendous effect upon Galileo. With his mathematical mind, the question of time, which was completely lost sight of in the material conception of the visible world, naturally influenced him greatly. Galileo first created the impulse in the human mind to admit that we cannot see behind the material veil with our normal consciousness: “The super-sensible is not to be understood by the human senses. It cannot be comprehended by human reason. Divine Reason grasps it outside time and space, while man's reason is limited to time and space. Let us confine ourselves to that which, in time and space, our human reason can understand.”

Now, seeing that Galileo achieved such greatness in so many things, he is also, from the point of view of philosophy, one of the most important pioneers of the modern Spiritual development of humanity. Can we then wonder that we also see in him a mind who wished to make clear to himself and to others the relation of man to the world of sense and to his own soul-life.

It is a popular fallacy that Kant was the first to draw attention to the fact that the world around us is nothing but illusion and that it is not possible to arrive at “the thing in itself,” at things as they really are. Expressed rather differently, Galileo had already demonstrated this idea; only, behind the visible, he always saw the all-pervading thoughts of the Divine Spiritual, and it was only from humility and not from principle that he said that only after long aeons of time would mankind be fit to draw nearer to it.

But Galileo said:—“When we see a colour, it makes a certain impression on us. For example, red. Is the red colour in the things?” Galileo used a very remarkable illustration, which showed at once that the primary conception was incorrect. That, however, is immaterial to our purpose. The point we wish to emphasize is the conception itself as an idea of that time. Galileo said:—“If you take a feather and tickle a man on the soles of his feet or the palms of his hands, the man will experience a sensation of tickling. Now is the tickling in the feather? No. It is entirely subjective. What is in the feather is quite different. As the tickling is subjective, so too is the red colour subjective, which is visible in the world.” Thus he compared colours and even sounds with the tickling caused by the application of a feather to the soles of the feet.

Once we realize this, we can already trace in Galileo the beginnings of what came down to us as the philosophy of our modern times. For modern philosophy doubts the possibility of Man's ever being able to penetrate behind the veil of the world sense in any way whatsoever.

Thus we see in Galileo, who was born in 1664, the quiet, determined pioneer, while Giordano Bruno, who was somewhat older, being born in 1648, reflected in his mentality all the great truths which were fermenting in the minds of men such as Copernicus, Galileo himself and others at that period. The mind of Giordano Bruno mirrors for us all the great ideas of that time in a mighty, comprehensive system of philosophy.

What was Giordano Bruno's own personal attitude to the world, quite apart from the mental attitude of the men of his day? Giordano Bruno (who only knew the corrupted version of Aristotle) argued thus:—“Aristotle maintains that a sphere exists which extends to the Moon, thence to the different spheres of the stars; then comes the sphere of
the Divine Spiritual. Thus, according to Aristotle, the Living God must be sought for outside the spheres of the stars.”

Giordano was viewing the Universe according to the conception of Aristotle. He saw first the earth, then the spheres of the Moon and of the Stars. Then, finally, beyond these again, beyond this world and beyond that inhabited by man, in the great periphery of this world, the Divine Spirit, which literally directs the revolutions and movements of the world of the planets.

Giordano Bruno could not reconcile this conception with the actual human experience of his day. That which could now be perceived by means of the human senses, that which he himself perceived when he looked at plants, animals and man, that which he saw when he looked at mountains, seas, clouds and stars, all this appeared to him as a marvelous image of what lives in the Divine Spirit itself. In the moving stars, in the clouds sailing through the air, he saw not only a script written by the Divine Being, but something which might pertain to the Divine Being as a finger or a limb does to ourselves. The fundamental conception of Giordano Bruno was not that of a God who directs the visible world from outside, from the periphery, but a God who is incorporate in every single manifestation of the visible, whose bodily form is the visible world.

If we seek to understand how it was that he arrived at such a conclusion, we find that it was the result of the joy of the intoxication of delight in the spirit of the new age which had just begun. This new age had been preceded by a time during which man had been content to grope about amongst the old ideas of Aristotle. A time in which the leading Scholars, if they walked through woods and fields, had no eyes for Nature and all her beauties, but had their minds wholly set on Parchments and Writings which had originated with Aristotle.

Now, however, the time had come when the voice of Nature began to make itself heard by men. Great discoveries revealed themselves one after another. Mighty minds like that of Galileo pressed on from point to point, recognizing the Divine in Nature herself at every step.

The theory of the God in Nature, in contradistinction to the mediaeval conception of Nature, from which God was eliminated, was accepted everywhere with an universal delirium of joy. To this spirit, every fibre of Giordano Bruno's being responded. “There is Spirit in all things,” he says, “This is proved by physical research. Wherever we see a visible creation, there we shall meet the Divine.” There is only one difference between the physical and the Divine. Because we are men and confined within narrow boundaries, the visible appears to us to be limited by time and space. To Giordano Bruno, the Spirit of God exists behind the sense-world. Not in the way in which (as he thought) it had existed for Aristotle or the men of the Middle Ages. He believed the Divine Spirit to be self-existing; and Nature only the body by means of which its Spirit manifested itself in all its beauty.

Nevertheless, man cannot perceive the whole of the Divine Spirit in Nature, he can only see a part. In all things, in all time and in space, the Divine Spirit is to be found. This was the creed of Giordano Bruno. Hence he says “Where is the Divine? In every stone, in every leaf, the Divine is everywhere. In all creation, specially in beings possessing a certain independent existence”. These beings, which recognise their own independence, he terms Monads. By a Monad, he means something which floats and flourishes in the ocean of divinity. All Monads are mirrors of the Universe. Thus Giordano conceived of the universal Spirit as divided into many Monads, and in each Monad that was an individual Spirit, there was something which was a reflection of the Universe.

Such a Monad is the human soul, and they are many. Indeed, the human body itself is composed of many Monads, not of one. If we understand the truth about the physical body according to the ideas of Giordano Bruno, we shall not see the fleshly human body, but a system of Monads; these Monads cannot be clearly seen, just as we cannot distinguish the separate midges in a swarm; the chief Monad is the human soul. When the human soul comes into existence at birth, so said Giordano Bruno, the other Monads which belong to the soul collect together and, by this, the existence of the Chief-Monad, of the Soul Monad, is made possible. When death approaches, the Chief-Monad discharges and disperses the other Monads.

According to Giordano Bruno, birth is the assembling of many Monads round a Chief-Monad, while death is the separation of the inferior Monads from the Chief-Monad, so that the Chief-Monad may be able to take on another form. For each Monad is obliged to take on, not only the form by which we know it here, but every form which it is possible to take on in the Universe. Giordano Bruno conceives of a procession through every form. Thus he approaches as close as possible—in his enthusiasm—to the idea of the re-incarnation of the human soul.

And with reference to the conception of our collective reality, he says:—Man, with his normal consciousness, stands confronted by this reality. What he first receives are the impressions of the senses. These are his first means of knowledge. Of these, there are four, says Giordano Bruno. The first means by which man acquires knowledge is by the impressions of the senses.

The second are the images we construct in our imagination when the things which have impressed the senses are no longer before us, when we only remember what we have experienced. Here we already penetrate further into the soul. This second channel of knowledge he terms “the power of imagination.” The word must not be taken to mean what it does to-day, but it must be understood in the sense in which it was used by Giordano Bruno. After a man has received what the impressions of sense have to give him, he enters (forming the picture within himself) into the impressions. The impression is made from without on the within. It then follows that man, while he penetrates the things with his reason and then proceeds further, draws nearer to the truth, instead of going further away from it. Hence Giordano Bruno recognises reason, the intellect, as the third means of acquiring knowledge, and in this he has in mind the moment when we leave the objects visible to our senses and ascend to the realm of thought. Then something higher and truer than any impression created by the senses flows towards us.

According to Giordano Bruno, the fourth stage is Reason. Reason to him is a living and weaving in the regions of Pure Spirit.

Thus the system of Giordano Bruno comprises four stages of knowledge. He does not, however, classify them in the same way as they are classified, for example, in my books, “The Way of Initiation” and “Initiation and its Results”, under the headings of Present Knowledge, Imaginative Knowledge, Inspirational Knowledge and Intuitive Knowledge. His classifications are more in the abstract. We must, therefore, think of him in the following way: Giordano Bruno lived first at that point of time when the knowledge of visible phenomena was, advancing, therefore he used expressions which resemble those used now to express knowledge of the ordinary visible world, rather than those which relate to the higher worlds. But when Giordano Bruno looks up to the Spiritual World, we can have no doubt of his meaning from the tremendous emphasis with which he says “The Divine Spirit which exists in everything, which has its bodily form in all things, possesses that of which we have the representation, as the idea is the conception of the thing”.

“In what way is the world in God? How is the Spirit in God?” he asks, and replies: “The Spirit is in God as Idea, as the Thought that precedes the Word.” In everything is the Spirit in Nature, as form, he replies, by which he means, that the idea which exists in the Divine Spirit is in the crystal, which has a form; it is in the plant, which has a form; in the animal, which has a form; it is in the human body, which has a form. Of all visible things which have form, a counterpart exists in the human soul as the concept of them.

Giordano Bruno carries this still further. The things of Nature are shadows of the Divine Ideas. “Note well”, he says, “Our concepts are not the shadows of things, they are the shadows of the Divine Thoughts.” Thus, if we have the things of Nature around us and thus have the shadow of the Divine Idea, our concepts will be again fructified thereby. While we are forming our concepts, the Divine Spirit is weaving His Ideas into the original, so that we come in direct contact with the stream which connects us with the Divine Idea.

When we study the theories of that Physical Science which is to-day called Monism, (unlike that of Giordano Bruno), what strikes us most is the fact that, if we would be consistent in speaking of these theories, we must say “they do not mention the Divine Thought”. But Giordano Bruno did not say that, he was a Spiritualist in the strictest sense of the word. What he has to gibe us out of the true inspiration of the Renaissance relates to the Monads. The assembling of the Monads at birth and their dissolution at death refers to the Divine Thoughts, which, in his conception of the world, flow into the world of ideas; and in his own words “The human thought is a reflection of the Divine.” If this is once thoroughly understood, we shall understand something of the spirituality of Giordano Bruno.

But for this, one thing is necessary: we must distinguish between the real and the unreal Giordano Bruno, between the Giordano Bruno who was so greatly misunderstood and the real man himself.

Giordano Bruno was the master-mind, who, by his unbounded enthusiasm, spread broadcast among his contemporaries the more intellectual achievements of Galileo in the realms of Scientific Thought. This is why every utterance of Giordano Bruno carried such weight. All the joy and enthusIasm of the Spirit of the age, all its delight in the discovery of the working and weaving of Nature in the physical world, was concentrated in the personality of Giordano Bruno. This flood of rejoicing was itself crystallized into a system of philosophy, for the Divine Spirit which dwells in all visible things most certainly illuminated the soul of Giordano Bruno, and he was conscious of it. Hence we can understand those utterances of Giordano Bruno, which we do well to remember; they sound as if Nature herself had a direct message for men in those days. We can only quote a few words here.

Consider how wonderful the following thought is, to which Giordano gives expression in contradistinction to the teaching of Aristotle on the same subject. “The Spirit of Divine intelligence is not beyond the visible world, it is not exterior to it, it is everywhere, wherever we may look. The Divine Intelligence does not dwell in any place exterior to the visible world. It does not dwell in that vague realm, of which we may say ‘something moves in circles wide’, it does mot dwell in a revolving, encircling realm, with which we can communicate only from a great distance. The Divine Spirit is the united principle of that vital force, which is in everything and in Nature herself.”

Such was the language which rang out at that time, such the convictions which sprang from the innermost depths of the soul of Giordano Bruno. The question now remains how best to reproduce this language to-day, so that it will speak directly to our hearts and minds. Hermann Brunnhofer, who called attention to this and had to submit to being called a too enthusiastic admirer of Giordano Bruno, put his words into fine verse:

Non est Deus vel intelligentia exterior
Cirounrotans et circumducens;
Dignuis enim illi debet esse
Internum prinzipuim Motus,
Quod est Natura propria, species propria, anima propria,
Quam habeat tot quot in illius
Gremio et corpore vivent
Noe generali Spiritu, corpore.

Anima, Natura animantia
Plantea, Lapides quae univena ut
Disimus proportionaliter cumastro
Euden composita ordine, etaedem
Contemperata complexion um, symmetus,
Secundum genus, quantumlebet secundum
Specierum numeros singula deslingunlui.

1. Giordano Bruno says philosophically: It is worthy of God to be the inner moving principle of things.
2. See also: Herman Brunnhofer, The Influence of Giordano Bruno upon Goethe—Goethe's Journals—Vol. VII, 1886.

Goethe translates this line for line in the poem beginning:

“What Kind of God were He who from the World
Remained aloof and the great Universe Around His finger twirled?” etc.

This is a poetical translation of the mind of Giordano Bruno through the instrumentality of the mind of Goethe. It was not merely that Goethe wrote these verses with Giordano Bruno's works lying beside him. Some other influence must have been at work than that which would have made Goethe merely recast the words of Giordano Bruno in a poetical form. We see in this how the spirit of Giordano Bruno becomes fully alive in Goethe. Nevertheless it is not only a couple of centuries which have to be bridged when we pass from the days of Galileo and Giordano Bruno to Goethe. We must realise that what in the case of Giordano Bruno had its origin in the first great enthusiastic mood from which arose the philosophic cult of Nature, became in Goethe a mood leading him with complete devotion from one thing to another and finally causing him to bring back into Nature the God whose existence man now learned to feel in Nature herself. In Goethe the mood of Giordano Bruno had become his own. It was born in him, as it were. It was already present in him when, at the age of seven, he took the music desk belonging to his father and arranged on it mineral ores from his father's collection, so as to have some products of Nature herself—for the same purpose he took plants from his father's herbarium. He then placed a little stick of incense on the top of the heap and waited, burning glass in hand, for the Sun to rise, so that he might enkindle the incense from its rays and thus consummate a sacrifice culled from the forces of Nature to the God who lives in the plants and minerals and to whom he had erected an altar.

Thus did Giordano Bruno live in Goethe at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries, but in such a way that what lived as the innermost attitude of his soul, Goethe carried into every detail of Nature.

It was this mental attitude which made it impossible to Goethe to understand how the Scientific investigators of that day could attach such importance to the outward signs which differentiate men from animals. The physical Scientists of the eighteenth century maintained that man did not possess the same number of small bones in the upper part of the jaw bone as the animals—viz. the inter-maxillary bones—which contain the sheath of the upper teeth. Animals possess these and this is where men differ from animals. Goethe could not understand this highly materialistic idea. This indeed could not be the God who was the inner vital principle of Nature. The God of whom Giordano Bruno spoke as “circumroians et circumducens.” He must be a God who worked outside Nature, a God who, first of all, made the animals, then made man and then, in order to differentiate man from beast, arranged that animals should have the inter-maxillary bones, while these should be wanting in man.

Goethe was the great investigator of Nature, who endeavoured to show that that which existed in Nature as form was capable of rising higher, and that it is not in anything external, such as the inter-maxillary bones, that the difference between the human and the animal world is to be found, but that something exists in man which, though it may be clothed with tones and muscles like those of the animals, constitutes the higher mind of humanity. This is only another proof of the magnitude of Goethe's genius. He not only discovered traces of the inter-maxillary bone and proved that it had only disappeared in man because it was a subordinate bone, but he also shows that the vertebrae may be distended if the activity of the mind contained in the brain finds this to be necessary. A long time ago, when I was studying the Scientific writings of Goethe, in order to understand his assertion that the bones of the skull are transposed vertebrae, the latter having been extended into the cavities of the skull, I came to the inevitable conclusion that Goethe must have conceived the idea that the brain itself was transposed spinal marrow and that this change had been wrought by the mind. That not only the covering tissue, but that the brain itself had been moved up from the vertebrae and spinal marrow to a higher level. It was a wonderful moment im my life when I discovered that, in the last decade of the eighteenth century, Goethe had written in pencil on a slip of paper “The brain is in reality only a piece of transposed spinal marrow.” Professor Bardeleben relates this in his article in the Weimar Year-Book on “Goethe as Scientific Investigator.”

Thus we see the mood which first appeared in Giordano Bruno applied by Goethe to the different parts of living beings. We see how Goethe applied the ideas of Giordano Bruno—to whom, as we have seen, he approaches so closely, even in his choice of words—in a practical way to everything in natural scientific thought.

This is why Goethe laid such stress upon finding in the whole plant world the metamorphosis of the primal archetypal plant (Urpflanze). Added to the great achievements of Goethe as artist were his noteworthy achievements as a scientific investigator of Nature. In a certain sense, the spirit which had come down from the clairvoyant stages of perception to a material form of vision was incorporated in Goethe, as a personality who saw the Divine in all his observations of Nature, even in the individual plants. The expression “Urpflanze”, Primal Archetypal plant. What did Goethe mean by that? He meant to indicate the Spiritual essence in the various species of Plants. With regard to this, the conversation between Schiller and Goethe at Jena, after a meeting of the Botanical Society, which they had both attended, is important. When they had left the assembly, Schiller said:—“What they said about plants was very unsatisfying.” Goethe replied:—“It might have been expressed differently. We ought to be able to see, not only those parts of the plant which we hold in our hands, but also their Spiritual relationship.” Then he took a piece of paper and drew the structure of a plant in a few strokes. He showed to Schiller that the type is not only present in the Lily, the Dandelion or the Ranunculus, but in all plants. Then Schiller, who could not understand the structure of the primal plant) said:—“That is no reality, it is nothing but an idea.” Goethe was very puzzled and said:—“It would gratify me very much to think that I could have ideas without knowing it and even see them with my physical eyes.” For Goethe could perceive the Spiritual element which permeates all plants. He saw it so clearly that he could even draw it. The same applies to the primal archetypal animal in all animals.

Thus Goethe pursued the God who does not work from without the material world, but who lives and operates within all visible things. Thus he followed the Divine Spirit which moves invisibly in everything, working in a concrete way from plant to plant, through leaf, blossom and fruit. It works in the same way from one animal to another, and also from one bone to another, from one animal form to another. It is interesting to note that Goethe was not understood by the men of his own time, not even by Schiller. But little by little the spirit of Goethe will take root even in the thought of the Natural Scientists. It will be acknowledged that Goethe's ideas were a stage higher than those of Giordano Bruno. Giordano Bruno spoke of a God, a pantheistic God, who is to be found everywhere, in plants and in animals. But Goethe, although he too sought the great spirit who does not operate from without, said further:—We must not only seek for Him in general; we must study the detailed phenomena and look for the Spirit in the separate things. For it lives in one way in plants, in another in mineral; one way in this bone and another way in that.

The Spirit is in perpetual action; it forms the various parts of matter, matter follows the moving spirit. This can be expressed as one universal spirit, as was done by Giordano Bruno. It can also be sought with deep devotion in every single detail, as Goethe did. In this way, man draws nearer and nearer to the Spirit at work in the outspread carpet of Nature, by degrees will that Spirit reveal itself.

If we study the successive stages of progress represented by Galileo, Giordano Bruno and Goethe, and search for the root principle which directed such great minds, we shall learn by degrees to adhere to the root principle which directed them, and not to be led away by the will-of-the-wisp of superficial criticism. For even the greatest minds do not escape criticism. Let us take Galileo with his great conception of the Divine, which embraced the whole of Creation in the span of one moment, and was unfettered by space or time. When we consider this, the question is bound to arise:—“What do the men of to-day know about the real significance of Galileo?” As a rule, they know little more about him than the one incident which is assuredly not true, that he said, as is supposed, “It moves, nevertheless.” A fine saying, truly, but, as can be seen from the investigations of the Italian scholar, Angells de Gubernatis, it cannot be true. And how often do we not hear that the last words of Goethe were:—“More light”, which is exactly what he never did say.

Hence we see that these great minds must be studied in the light which Spiritual Science is able to throw upon them, We cannot, as we are so fond of doing, judge of the past with our own, individual, unaided, modern mind.

These three master-minds form a wonderful, harmonious triad, which marks the beginning of our modern age; in Galileo and in Giordano Bruno we see the dawn, in Goethe we see the Sun itself, which show how the Spirit of the modern age already taught him to see that the smallest atom of matter cannot exist without Spirit behind it, which brings one atom in touch with another.

I would call to your remembrance an incident which Goethe relates himself. Many years after the death of Schiller, it was decided to transfer his remains from their grave to the Princes Mausoleum. There was some difficulty in deciding which were really the bones of Schiller. Goethe was attracted by a skull, which he saw must have belonged to a man of the type of the genius of Schiller; on closer inspection, he decided that this must be Schiller's skull, as he recognised it from the strongly marked peculiarity in the shape of the skull. This skull was accordingly placed in the Princes Mausoleum. Here he recognised the principle, which was also recognised by Galileo, that the spirit (or genius) must be sought for humbly and mathematically.

The ancient church lamp still hangs in the cathedral at Pisa, swinging backwards and forwards before countless souls. But Galileo had only sat before it once, when he measured the beating of his pulse by the regular swinging of the lamp and thus discovered the laws of balance, which are of such vast importance to-day. This was a Divine Inspiration. There are many such cases. At the grave of Schiller, Goethe was inspired with the thought which lived in the philosophic inspiration of Giordano Bruno. “Spirit is inseparable from matter. It is everywhere. Not, however, tossing it wildly about and driving it round, but, as Spirit which exists in the minutest atom.” This conception of the Spiritual, which existed in Giordano Bruno, was re-born in Goethe's soul, as he held the skull of Schiller in his hand, and, as water congealed into ice, so was the Spirit of Schiller made manifest to him in the skull of Schiller.

Goethe's entire spiritual standpoint lies before us when we study the poem which he wrote after having looked on Schiller's skull. Especially those lines, which are so often misinterpreted, and which we can only understand when we realise that in the situation which we have described above, Goethe saw the individuality of Schiller in plastic form before him, as if frozen.

Then he cries, as he must do, forced thereto by the similarity of the Spirit which united Giordano Bruno and Goethe:

Was kann der Mensch imleben mehr gewinnen,
Als dass sich Gott-Natur ihm offenbare,
Wie sie das Feste ladesst zu Geist verrinnen,
Wie sie das Geisterzeugte fest bewahre.

What can a man wrest more from life
Than that Nature, all-divine, reveal to him
How that she causeth the firm and formed to melt into Spirit,
And how what is born of the Spirit she holdeth fast in form.

Today it seems appropriate to mention certain thoughts on the meaning and nature of our spiritual Movement—anthroposophical spiritual science, as we call it. To do so will necessitate references to some events which have occurred over a period of time and which have contributed to the preparation and unfolding of this Movement. If, in the course of these remarks, one or another of them should seem somewhat more personal—it would, at any rate, only seem to be so—this will not be for personal reasons but because what is more personal can be a starting point for something more objective. The need for a spiritual movement which makes known to people the deeper sources of existence, especially human existence, can be easily recognized by the way in which today's civilization has developed along lines which are becoming increasingly absurd. No one, after serious thought, will describe today's events as anything other than an absurd exaggeration of what has been living in more recent evolution.

From what you have come to know in spiritual science, you will have gained the feeling that everything, even what is apparently only external, has its foundation in the thoughts of human beings. Deeds which are done, events which take place in material life—all these are the consequence of what human beings think and imagine. And the view of the external world, which is gaining ground among human beings today, gives us an indication of some very inadequate thought forces. I have already put into words the fact that events have grown beyond human beings, have got out of hand, because their thinking has become attenuated and is no longer strong enough to govern reality. Concepts such as that of maya, the external semblance which governs the things of the physical plane, ought to be taken far more seriously by those familiar with them than they, in fact, often are. They ought to be profoundly imprinted on current consciousness as a whole. This alone might lead to the healing of the damage which—with a certain amount of justification—has come upon mankind. Those who strive to understand the functioning of man's deeds—that is, the way the reflections of man's thoughts function—will recognize the inner need for a comprehension of the human soul which can be brought about by stronger, more realistic thoughts.

In fact, our whole Movement is founded on the task of giving human souls thoughts more appropriate to reality, thoughts more immersed in reality, than are the abstract concept patterns of today. It cannot be pointed out often enough how very much mankind today is in love with the abstract, having no desire to realize that shadowy concepts cannot, in reality, make any impact on the fabric of existence. This has been most clearly expressed in the fourteen-, fifteen-year history of our Anthroposophical Movement. Now it is becoming all the more important for our friends to take into themselves what specifically belongs to this Anthroposophical Movement. You know how often people stressed that they would so much like to give the beautiful word ‘theosophy’ the honour it deserves, and how much they resisted having to give it up as the key word of the Movement. But you also know the situation which made this necessary.

It is good to be thoroughly aware in one's soul about this. You know—indeed, many of you shared—the goodwill with which we linked our work with that of the Theosophical Movement in the way it had been founded by Blavatsky, and how this then continued with Besant's and Sinnett's efforts, and so on. It is indeed not unnecessary for our members, in face of all the ill-meant misrepresentations heaped upon us from outside, to persist in pointing out that our Anthroposophical Movement had an independent starting-point and that what now exists has grown out of the seeds of those lectures I gave in Berlin which were later published in the book on the mysticism of the Middle Ages. We must stress ever and again that in connection with this book it was the Theosophical Movement who approached us, not vice versa. This Theosophical Movement, in whose wake it was our destiny to ride during those early years, was not without its connections to other occult streams of the nineteenth century, and in lectures given here I have pointed to these connections. But we should look at what is characteristic for that Movement.

If I were asked to point factually to one rather characteristic feature, I would choose one I have mentioned a number of times, which is connected with the period when I was writing in the journal Lucifer-Gnosis what was later given the title Cosmic Memory. A representative of the Theosophical Society, who read this, asked me by what method these things were garnered from the spiritual world. Further conversation made it obvious that he wanted to know what more-or-less mediumistic methods were used for this. Members of those circles find it impossible to imagine any method other than that of people with mediumistic gifts, who lower their consciousness and write down what comes from the subconscious.

What underlies this attitude? Even though he is a very competent and exceptionally cultured representative of the Theosophical Movement, the man who spoke to me on this was incapable of imagining that it is possible to investigate such things in full consciousness. Many members of that Movement had the same problem because they shared something which is present to the highest degree in today's spiritual life, namely, a certain mistrust in the individual's capacity for knowledge. People do not trust the inherent capacity for knowledge, they do not believe that the individual can have the strength to penetrate truly to the essential core of things. They consider that the human capacity for knowledge is limited; they find that intellectual understanding gets in the way if one wants to penetrate to the core of things and that it is therefore better to damp it down and push forward to the core of things without bringing it into play. This is indeed what mediums do; for them, to mistrust human understanding is a basic impulse. They endeavour, purely experimentally, to let the spirit speak while excluding active understanding.

It can be said that this mood was particularly prevalent in the Theosophical Movement as it existed at the beginning of the century. It could be felt when one tried to penetrate certain things, certain opinions and views, which had come to live in the Theosophical Movement. You know that in the nineties of the nineteenth century and subsequently in the twentieth century, Mrs Besant played an important part in the Theosophical Movement. Her opinion counted. Her lectures formed the centrepiece of theosophical work both in London and in India. And yet it was strange to hear what people around Mrs Besant said about her. I noticed this strongly as early as 1902. In many ways, especially among the scholarly men around her, she was regarded as a quite unacademic woman. Yet, while on the one hand people stressed how unacademic she was, on the other hand they regarded the partly mediumistic method she was famous for, untrammelled as it was by scientific ideas, as a channel for achieving knowledge. I could say that these people did not themselves have the courage to aim for knowledge. Neither had they any confidence in Mrs Besant's waking consciousness. But because she had not been made fully awake as a result of any scientific training, they saw her to some extent as a means by which knowledge from the spiritual world could be brought into the physical world. This attitude was extraordinarily prevalent among those immediately surrounding her. People spoke about her at the beginning of the twentieth century as if she were some kind of modern sibyl. Those closest to her formed derogatory opinions about her academic aptitude and maintained that she had no critical ability to judge her inner experiences. This was certainly the mood around her, though it was carefully hidden—I will not say kept secret—from the wider circle of theosophical leaders.

In addition to what came to light in a sibylline way through Mrs Besant, and through Blavatsky's The Secret Doctrine, the Theosophical Movement at the end of the nineteenth century also had Sinnett's book or, rather, books. The manner in which people spoke about these in private was, equally, hardly an appeal to man's own power of knowledge. Much was made in private about the fact that in what Sinnett had published there was nothing which he had contributed out of his own experience. The value of a book such as his Esoteric Buddhism was seen to lie particularly in the fact that the whole of the content had come to him in the form of ‘magical letters’, precipitated—no one knew whence—into the physical plane—one could almost say, thrown down to the physical plane—which he then worked into the book Esoteric Buddhism.

All these things led to a mood among the wider circles of the theosophical leaders which was sentimental and devotional in the highest degree. They looked up, in a way, to a wisdom which had fallen from heaven, and—humanly, quite understandable—this devotion was transferred to individual personalities. However, this became the incentive for a high level of insincerity which was easy to discern in a number of phenomena.

Thus, for instance, even in 1902 I heard in the more private gatherings in London that Sinnett was, in fact, an inferior spirit. One of the leading personalities said to me at that time: Sinnett could be compared with a journalist—say, of the Frankfurter Zeitung—who has been dispatched to India; he is a journalistic spirit who simply had the good fortune to receive the ‘Master's letters’ and make use of them in his book in a journalistic way which is in keeping with modern mankind!

You know, though, that all this is only one aspect of a wide spectrum of literature. For in the final decades of the nineteenth century and the first decades of the twentieth, there appeared—if not a Biblical deluge, then certainly a flood of—written material which was intended to lead mankind in one way or another to the spiritual world. Some of this material harked back directly to ancient traditions which have been preserved by all kinds of secret brotherhoods. It is most interesting to follow the development of this tradition.

I have often pointed out how, in the second half of the eighteenth century, old traditions could be found in the circle led by Saint-Martin, the philosophe inconnu. In Saint-Martin's writings, especially Des erreurs et de la vérité, there is a very great deal of what came from ancient traditions, clothed in a more recent form. If we follow these traditions further back, we do indeed come to ideas which can conquer concrete situations, which can influence reality. By the time they had come down to Saint-Martin, these concepts had already become exceedingly shadowy, but they were nevertheless shadows of concepts which had once been very much alive; ancient traditions were living one last time in a shadowy form. So in Saint-Martin's work we find the healthiest concepts clothed in a form which is a final glimmer. It is particularly interesting to see how Saint-Martin fights against the concept of matter, which had already come to the fore. What did this concept of matter gradually become? It became a view in which the world is seen as a fog made up of atoms moving about and bumping into one another and forming configurations which are at the root of all things taking shape around us. In theory materialism reached its zenith at the point when the existence of everything except the atom was denied. Saint-Martin still maintained the view that the whole science of atoms, and indeed the whole belief that matter was something real, was nonsense; which indeed it is. If we delve into all that is around us, chemically, physically, we come in the final analysis not to atoms, not to anything material, but to spiritual beings. The concept of matter is an aid; but it corresponds to nothing that is real. Wherever—to use a phrase coined by du Bois-Reymond—‘matter floats about in space like a ghost’: there may be found the spirit. The only way to speak of an atom is to speak of a little thrust of spirit, albeit ahrimanic spirit. It was a healthy idea of Saint-Martin to do battle against the concept of matter.

Another immensely healthy idea of Saint-Martin was the living way in which he pointed to the fact that all separate, concrete human languages are founded on a single universal language. This was easier to do in his day than it is now, because in his time there was still a more living relationship to the Hebrew language which, among all modern languages, is the one closest to the archetypal universal language. It was still possible to feel at that time the way in which spirit flowed through the Hebrew language, giving the very words something genuinely ideal and spiritual. So we find in Saint-Martin's work an indication, concrete and spiritual, of the meaning of the word ‘the Hebrew’. In the whole way he conceived of this we find a living consciousness of a relationship of the human being with the spiritual world. This word ‘the Hebrew’ is connected with ‘to journey’. A Hebrew is one who makes a journey through life, one who gathers experiences as on a journey. Standing in the world in a living way—this is the foundation of this word and of all other words in the Hebrew language if they are sensed in their reality.

However, in his own time Saint-Martin was no longer able to find ideas which could point more precisely, more strongly, to what belonged to the archetypal language. These will have to be rediscovered by spiritual science. But he had before his soul a profound notion of what the archetypal language had been. Because of this his concept of the unity of the human race was more concrete and less abstract than that which the nineteenth century made for itself. This concrete concept of the unity of the human race made it possible for him, at least within his own circle, to bring fully to life certain spiritual truths, for instance, the truth that the human being, if only he so desires, really can enter into a relationship with spiritual beings of higher hierarchies. It is one of his cardinal principles, which states that every human being is capable of entering into a relationship with spiritual beings of higher hierarchies. Because of this there still lived in him something of that ancient, genuine mystic mood which knew that knowledge, if it is to be true knowledge, cannot be absorbed in a conceptual form only, but must be absorbed in a particular mood of soul—that is after a certain preparation of the soul. Then it becomes part of the soul's spiritual life.

Hand in hand with this, however, went a certain sum of expectations, of evolutionary expectations directed to those human souls who desired to claim a right to participate in some way in evolution. From this point of view it is most interesting to see how Saint-Martin makes the transition from what he has won through knowledge, through science—which is spiritual in his case—to politics, how he arrives at political concepts. For here he states a precise requirement, saying that every ruler ought to be a kind of Melchizedek, a kind of priest-king.

Just imagine if this requirement, put forward in a relatively small circle before the outbreak of the French Revolution, had been a dawn instead of a dusk; just imagine if this idea—that those whose concepts and forces were to influence human destiny must fundamentally have the characteristics of a Melchizedek—had been absorbed, even partially, into the consciousness of the time, how much would have been different in the nineteenth century! For the nineteenth century was, in truth, as distant as it could possibly be from this concept. The demand that politicians should first undertake to study at the school of Melchizedek would, of course, have been dismissed with a shrug.

Saint-Martin has to be pointed out because he bears within him something which is a last glimmer of the wisdom that has come down from ancient times. It has had to die away because mankind in the future must ascend to spirituat life in a new way. Mankind must ascend in a new way because a merely traditional continuation of old ideas never has been in keeping with the germinating forces of the human soul. These underdeveloped forces of the human soul will tend, during the course of the twentieth century, in a considerable number of individuals—this has been said often enough—to lead to true insight into etheric processes. The first third of the twentieth century can be seen as a critical period during which a goodly number of human beings ought to be made aware of the fact that events must be observed in the etheric world which lives all around us, just as much as does the air. We have pointed emphatically to one particular event which must be seen in the etheric world if mankind is not to fall into decadence, and that is the appearance of the Etheric Christ. This is a necessity. Mankind must definitely prepare not to let wither those forces which are already sprouting.

These forces must not be allowed to wither for, if they did, what would happen? In the forties and fifties of the twentieth century the human soul would assume exceedingly odd characteristics in the widest circles. Concepts would arise in the human soul which would have an oppressive effect. If materialism were the only thing to continue, concepts which exist in the human soul would arise, but they would rise up out of the unconscious in a way which people would not understand. A waking nightmare, a kind of general state of neurasthenia, would afflict a huge number of people. They would find themselves having to think things without understanding why they were thinking them.

The only antidote to this is to plant, in human souls, concepts which stem from spiritual science. Without these, the forces of insight into those concepts which will rise up, into those ideas which will make their appearance, will be paralysed. Then, not the Christ alone, but also other phenomena in the etheric world, which human beings ought to see, will withdraw from man, will go past unnoticed. Not only will this be a great loss, but human beings will also have to develop pathological substitute forces for those which ought to have developed in a healthy way.

It was out of an instinctive need in wide circles of mankind that the endeavours arose which expressed themselves in that flood of literature and written material mentioned earlier. Now, because of a peculiar phenomenon, the Anthroposophical Movement of Central Europe was in a peculiar position relative to the Theosophical Movement—particularly to the Theosophical Society—as well as to that other flood of written material about spiritual matters. Because of the evolutionary situation in the nineteenth century and at the beginning of the twentieth century, it was possible for a great number of people to find spiritual nourishment in all this literature; and it was also possible for a great number of people to be utterly astounded by what came to light through Sinnett and Blavatsky. However, all this was not quite in harmony with Central European consciousness. Those who are familiar with Central European literature are in no doubt that it is not necessarily possible to live in the element of this Central European literature while at the same time taking up the attitude of so many others to that flood. This is because Central European literature encompasses immeasurably much of what the seeker for the spirit longs for—only it is hidden behind the peculiar language which so many people would rather have nothing to do with.

We have often spoken about one of those spirits who prove that spiritual life works and weaves in artistic literature, in belletristic literature: Novalis. For more prosaic moods we might equally well have mentioned Friedrich Schlegel, who wrote about the wisdom of ancient India in a way which did not merely reproduce that wisdom but brought it to a fresh birth out of the western cultural spirit. There is much we could have pointed to that has nothing to do with that flood of written material, but which I have sketched historically in my book Vom Menschenrätsel. People like Steffens, like Schubert, like Troxler, wrote about all these things far more precisely and at a much more modern level than anything found in that flood of literature which welled up during the last decades of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the twentieth century. You have to admit that, compared with the profundity of Goethe, Schlegel, Schelling, those things which are held to be so marvellously wise are nothing more than trivia, utter trivia. Someone who has absorbed the spirit of Goethe can regard even a work like such as Light on the Path as no more than commonplace. This ought not to be forgotten. To those who have absorbed the inspiration of Novalis or Friedrich Schlegel, or enjoyed Schelling's Bruno, all this theosophical literature can seem no more than vulgar and ordinary. Hence the peculiar phenomenon that there were many people who had the earnest, honest desire to reach a spiritual life but who, because of their mental make-up were, in the end, to some degree satisfied with the superficial literature described.

On the other hand, the nineteenth century had developed in such a way that those who were scientifically educated had become—for reasons I have often discussed—materialistic thinkers about whom nothing could be done. However, in order to work one's way competently through what came to light at the turn of the eighteenth to the nineteenth century through Schelling, Schlegel, Fichte, one does need at least some scientific concepts. There is no way of proceeding without them. The consequence was this peculiar phenomenon: It was not possible to bring about a situation—which would have been desirable—in which a number of scientifically educated people, however small, could have worked out their scientific concepts in such a way that they could have made a bridge to spiritual science. No such people were to be found. This is a difficulty that still exists and of which we must be very much aware.

Supposing we were to approach those who have undergone a scientific education, with the intention of introducing them to Anthroposophy: lawyers, doctors, philologists—not to mention theologians—when they have finished their academic education and reached a certain stage in life at which it is necessary for them, in accordance with life's demands, to make use of what they have absorbed, not to say, have learnt. They then no longer have either the inclination or the mobility to extricate themselves from their concepts and to seek for others. That is why scientifically-educated people are the most inclined to reject Anthroposophy, although it would only be a small step for a modern scientist to build a bridge. But he does not want to do so. It confuses him. What does he need it for? He has learnt what life demands of him and, so he believes, he does not want things which only serve to confuse him and undermine his confidence. It is going to take some considerable time before these people who have gone through the education of their day start to build bridges in any great numbers. We shall have to be patient. It will not come about easily, especially in certain fields. And when the building of bridges is seriously tackled in a particular field, great obstacles and hindrances will be encountered. It will be necessary above all to build bridges in the fields encompassed by the various faculties, with the exception of theology.

In the field of law the concepts being worked out are becoming more and more stereotyped and quite unsuitable for the regulation of real life. But they do regulate it because life on the physical plane is maya; if it were not maya, they would be incapable of regulating it. As it is, their application is bringing more and more confusion into the world. The application of today's jurisprudence, especially in civil law, does nothing but bring confusion into the situation. But this is not clearly seen. Indeed, how should it be seen? No one follows up the consequences of applying stereotyped concepts to reality. People study law, they become solicitors or judges, they absorb the concepts and apply them. What happens as a consequence of their application is of no interest. Or life is seen as it is—despite the existence of the law, which is a very difficult subject to study for many reasons, not least because law students tend to waste the first few terms—life is seen as it is; we see that everything is in a muddle and do no more than complain.

In the field of medicine the situation is more serious. If medicine continues to develop in the wake of materialism as it has been doing since the second third of the nineteenth century, it will eventually reach an utterly nonsensical situation, for it will end up in absurd medical specializations. The situation is more serious here because this tendency was, in fact, necessary and a good thing. But now it is time for it to be overcome. The materialistic tendency in medicine meant that surgery has reached a high degree of specialization, which was only possible because of this one-sided tendency. But medicine as such has suffered as a result. So now it needs to turn around completely and look towards a real spirituality—but the resistance to this is enormous.

Education is the field which, more than any other, needs to be permeated with spirituality, as we have said often enough. Bridges need to be built everywhere.

In technology—although it may appear to be furthest away from the spirit—it is above all necessary that bridges should be built to the life of the spirit, out of direct practical life. The fifth post-Atlantean period is the one which is concerned with the development of the material world, and if the human being is not to degenerate totally into a mere accomplice of machines—which would make him into nothing more than an animal—then a path must be found which leads from these very machines to the life of the spirit. The priority for those working practically with machines is that they take spiritual impulses into their own soul. This will come about the moment students of technology are taught to think just a little more than is the case at present; the moment they are taught to think in such a way that they see the connections between the different things they learn. As yet they are unable to do this. They attend lectures on mathematics, on descriptive geometry, even on topology sometimes; on pure mechanics, analytical mechanics, industrial mechanics, and also all the various more practical subjects. But it does not even occur to them to look for a connection between all these different things. As soon as people are obliged to apply their own common sense to things, they will be forced—simply on account of the stage of development these various subjects have reached—to push forward into the nature of these things and then on into the spiritual realm. From machines, in particular, a path will truly have to be found into the spiritual world.

I am saying all this in order to point out what difficulties today face the spiritual-scientific Movement, because so far there are no individuals to be found who might be capable of generating an atmosphere of taking things seriously. This Movement suffers most of all from a lack of being taken seriously. It is remarkable how this comes to the fore in all kinds of details. Much of what we have published would have been taken seriously, would have been seen in quite a different light, if it had not been made known that it stemmed from someone belonging to the Theosophical Movement. Simply because the person concerned was in the Theosophical Movement, his work was stamped as something not to be taken seriously. It is most important to realize this, and it is just these trifling details which make it plain. Not out of any foolish vanity but just so that you know what I mean, let me give you an example of one of these trifles which I came across only the other day.

In my book Vom Menschenrätsel I wrote about Karl Christian Planck as one of those spirits who, out of certain inner foundations, worked towards the spiritual realm, even though only in an abstract way. I have not only written about him in this book, but also—over the past few winters—spoken about him in some detail in a number of cities, showing how he went unrecognized, or was misunderstood, and referring especially to ane particular circumstance. This was the fact that, in the eighties, seventies, sixties, fifties, this man had ideas and thoughts in connection with industrial and social life which ought to have been put into practice. If only there had been someone at that time with the capacity of employing in social life the great ideas this man had, ideas truly compatible with reality, then—and I am not exaggerating—mankind would probably not now be suffering all that is going on today which, for the greater part, is a consequence of the totally wrong social structure in which we are living.

I have told you that it is a real duty not to let human beings come to a pass such as that reached by Karl Christian Planck, who finally came to be utterly devoid of any love for the world of external physical reality. He was a Swabian living in Stuttgart. He was refused a place in the philosophy department of Tübingen University, where he would have had the opportunity to put forward some of his ideas. I entirely intentionally mentioned the fact that, when he wrote the foreword to his book Testament of a German, he felt moved to say, ‘Not even my bones shall rest in the soil of my ungrateful fatherland’. Hard words. Words such as people today can be driven to utter when faced with the stupidity of their fellow human beings, who refuse to see the point about what is really compatible with reality. In Stuttgart I purposely quoted these words about his bones, for Stuttgart is Planck's fatherland in the narrower sense. There was little reaction, despite the fact that events had already reached a stage when there would have been every reason to understand the things he had said.

Now, however, a year-and-a-half later, the following notice may be found in the Swabian newspapers:

‘Karl Christian Planck. More than one far-seeing spirit foretold the present World War. But none anticipated its scale nor understood its causes and effects as clearly as did our Swabian countryman Planck.’

I said in my lecture that Karl Christian Planck had foreseen the present World War, and that he even expressly stated that Italy would not be on the side of the Central Powers, even though he was speaking at the time when the alliance had not yet been concluded, but was only in the making.

‘To him this war seemed to be the unavoidable goal toward which political and economic developments had been inexorably moving for the last fifty years.’

This is indeed the case!

‘Just as he revealed the damage being done in his day, so he also pointed the way which can lead us to other situations.’

This is the important point. But nobody listened!

‘By him we are told the deeper reasons underlying war profiteering and other black marks which mar so many good and pleasing aspects of the life of the nation today. He knows where the deeper, more inward forces of the nation lie and can tell us how to release them so that the moral and social renewal longed for by the best amongst us can come about. Despite all the painful disappointments meted out to him by his contemporaries, he continued to believe in these forces and their triumphant emergence.’

Nevertheless, he was driven to utter the words I have quoted!

‘The news will therefore be widely welcomed that the philosopher's daughter is about to give an introduction to Planck's social and political thinking in a number of public lectures.’

It is interesting that a year-and-a-half later his daughter should be putting in an appearance. This notice appeared in a Stuttgart newspaper. But a year-and-a-half ago, when I drew attention as plainly as possible in Stuttgart to the the philosopher Karl Christian Planck, no one took the slightest notice, and no one felt moved to make known what I had said. Now his daughter puts in an appearance. Her father died in 1880, and presumably she had been born by then. Yet she has waited all this time before standing up for him by giving public lectures.

This example could be multiplied not tenfold, but a hundredfold. It shows once again how difficult it is to bring together the all-embracing aspect of spiritual science with everyday practical details, despite the fact that it is absolutely essential that this should be done. Only through the all-embracing nature of spiritual science—this must be understood—can healing come about for what lives in the culture of today.

That is why it has been essential to keep steering what we call anthroposophical spiritual science, in whatever way possible, along the more serious channels which have been increasingly deserted by the Theosophical Movement. The spirit that was even known to the ancient Greek philosophers had to be allowed to come through, although this has led to the opinion that what is written in consequence is difficult to read. It has often not been easy. Especially within the Movement it met with the greatest difficulties. And one of the greatest difficulties has been the fact that it really has taken well over a decade to overcome one fundamental abstraction. Laborious and patient work has been necessary to overcome this fundamental abstraction which has been one of the most damaging things for our Movement. This basic abstraction consisted simply in the insistence on clinging to the word ‘theosophy’, regardless of whether whatever was said to be ‘theosophical’ referred to something filled with the spirituality of modern life, or to no more than some rubbish published by Rohm or anyone else. Anything ‘theosophical’ had equal justification, for this prompted ‘theosophical tolerance’.

Only very gradually has it been possible to work against these things. They could not be pointed out directly at the beginning, because that would have seemed arrogant. Only gradually has it been possible to awaken a feeling for the fact that differences do exist, and that tolerance used in this connection is nothing more than an expression of a total lack of character on which to base judgements. What matters now is to work towards knowledge of a kind which can cope with reality, which can tackle the demands of reality. Only a spiritual science that works with the concepts of our time can tackle the demands of reality. Not living in comfortable theosophical ideas but wrestling for spiritual reality—this must be the direction of our endeavour.

Some people still have no idea what is meant by wrestling for reality, for they are fighting shy of understanding clearly how threadbare are the concepts with which they work today. Let me give you a small example, from a seemingly unrelated subject, of what it means to wrestle for reality in concepts. I shall be brief, so please be patient while I explain something that might seem rather far-fetched.

There were always isolated individuals in the nineteenth century who were prepared to take up the question of reality. For reality was then supposed to burst in on mankind with entirely fresh ideas about life, not only the unimportant aspects but especially the basic practical aspects of life. Thus at a certain point in the nineteenth century Euclid's postulate of parallels was challenged. When are two lines parallel? Who could have failed to agree that two lines are parallel if they never meet, however long they are! For that is the definition: That two straight lines are parallel if they never meet, whatever the distance to which they are extended. In the nineteenth century there were individuals who devoted their whole life to achieving clarity about this concept, for it does not stand up to exact thinking. In order to show you what it means to wrestle for concepts, let me read you a letter written by Wolfgang Bolyai. The mathematician Gauss had begun to realize that the definition of two straight lines being parallel if they meet at infinity, or not at all, was no more than empty words and meant nothing. The older Bolyai, the father, was a friend and pupil of Gauss, who also stimulated the younger Bolyai, the son. And the father wrote to the son:

‘Do not look for the parallels in that direction. I have trodden that path to its end; I have traversed bottomless night in which every light, every joy of my life has been extinguished. By God I implore you to leave the postulate of the parallels alone! Shun it as you would a dissolute association, for it can rob you of all your leisure, your health, your peace of mind and every pleasure in life. It will never grow light on earth and the unfortunate human race will never gain anything perfectly pure, not even geometry itself. In my soul there is a deep and eternal wound. May God save you from being eaten away by another such. It robs me of my delight in geometry, and indeed of life on earth. I had resolved to sacrifice myself for the truth. I would have been prepared for martyrdom if only I could have handed geometry back to mankind purified of this blemish. I have accomplished awful, gigantic works, have achieved far more than ever before, but never found total satisfaction. Si paullum a summo discessit, vergit ad imum. When I saw that the foundation of this night cannot be reached from the earth I returned, comfortless, sorrowing for my self and the human race. Learn from my example. Desiring to know the parallels, I have remained without knowledge. And they have robbed me of all the flowers of my life and time. They have become the root of all my subsequent failures, and much rain has fallen on them from our lowering domestic clouds. If I could have discovered the parallels I would have become an angel, even if none had ever known of my discovery.

... Do not attempt it ... It is a labyrinth that forever blocks your path. If you enter you will grow poor, like a treasure hunter, and your ignorance will not cease. Should you arrive at whatever absurd discovery, it will be for naught, untenable as an axiom ...

... The pillars of Hercules are situated in this region. Go not a step further, or you will be lost.’

Nevertheless, the younger Bolyai did go further, even more so than his father, and devoted his whole life to the search for a concrete concept in a field where such a concept seemed to exist, but which was, however, empty words. He wanted to discover whether there really was such a thing as two straight lines which did not meet, even in infinity. No one has ever paced out this infinite distance, for that would take an infinite time, but this time has not yet run its course. It is nothing more than words. Such empty words, such conceptual shadows, are to be found behind all kinds of concepts. I simply wanted to point out to you how even the most thorough spirits of the nineteenth century suffered because of the abstractness of these concepts! It is interesting to see that while children are taught in every school that parallel lines are those which never meet, however long they are, there have been individual spirits for whom working with such concepts became a hell, because they were seeking to push through to a real concept instead of a stereotyped concept.

Wrestling with reality—this is what matters, yet this is the very thing our contemporaries shun, more or less, because they ‘realize’, or imagine they realize, that they have ‘high ideals’! It is not ideals that matter, but impulses which work with reality. Imagine someone were to make a beautiful statement such as: At long last a time must come when those who are most capable are accorded the consideration due to them. What a lovely programme! Whole societies could be established in accordance with this programme. Even political sciences could be founded on this basis. But it is not the statement that counts. What counts is the degree to which it is permeated by reality. For what is the use—however valid the statement, and however many societies choose it for the prime point in their programmes—if those in power happen to see only their nephews as being the most capable? It is not a matter of establishing the validity of the statement that the most capable should be given their due. The important thing is to have the capacity to find those who are the most capable, whether they are one's nephews or not! We must learn to understand that abstract concepts always fall through the cracks of life, and that they never mean anything, and that all our time is wasted on all these beautiful concepts. I have no objection to their beauty, but what matters is our grasp and knowledge of reality.

Suppose the lion were to found a social order for the animals, dividing up the kingdom of the earth in a just way. What would he do? I do not believe it would occur to him to push for a situation in which the small animals of the desert, usually eaten by the lion, would have the possibility of not being eaten by the lion! He would consider it his lion's right to eat the small animals he meets in the desert. It is conceivable, though, that for the ocean he would find it just and proper to forbid the sharks to eat the little fishes. This might very well happen. The lion might establish a tremendously just social order in the oceans, at the North Pole or wherever else he himself is not at home, giving all the animals their freedom. But whether he would be pleased to establish such an order in his own region is a question indeed. He knows very well what justice is in the social order, and he will put it into practice efficiently in the kingdom of the sharks.

Let us now turn from lions to Hungaricus. I told you two days ago about his small pamphlet Conditions de Paix de l'Allemagne. This pamphlet swims entirely with the stream of that map of Europe which was first mentioned in the famous note from the Entente to Wilson about the partition of Austria. We have spoken about it. With the exception of Switzerland, Hungaricus is quite satisfied with this map. He begins by talking very wisely—just as most people today talk very wisely—about the rights of nations, even the rights of small nations, and about the right of the state to be coincident with the power of the nation, and so on. This is all very nice, in the same way that the statement, about the most capable being given his due, is nice. As long as the concepts remain shadowy we can, if we are idealists, be delighted when we read Hungaricus. For the Swiss, the pamphlet is even nicer than the map, for rather than wiping Switzerland off the map, Hungaricus adds the Vorarlberg and the Tyrol. So I recommend the Swiss to read the pamphlet rather than look at the map. But now Hungaricus proceeds to divide up the rest of the world. In his own way he accords to every nation, even the smallest, the absolute right to develop freely—as long as he considers he is not causing offence to the Entente. He trims his words a little, of course, saying ‘independence’ when referring to Bohemia, and obviously ‘autonomy’ with regard to Ireland. Well, this is the done thing, is it not! It is quite acceptable to dress things up a little. He divides up the world of Europe quite nicely, so that apart from the things I have mentioned—which are to avoid causing offence—he really endeavours to apportion the smallest nations to those states to which the representatives of the Entente believe they belong. It is not so much a question of whether these small territories are really inhabited by those nationalities, but of whether the Entente actually believes this to be the case. He makes every effort to divide up the world nicely, with the exception of the desert—oh, pardon me—with the exception of Hungary, which is where he practises his lion's right! Perfect freedom is laid down for the kingdom of the sharks. But the Magyar nation is his nation, and this is to comprise not only what it comprises today—though without it only a minority of the population would be Magyar, the majority being others—but other territories as well. Here he well and truly acts the part of the lion.

Here we see how concepts are formulated nowadays and how people think nowadays. It gives us an opportunity to study how urgent it is to find the transition to a thinking which is permeated with reality. For this, concepts such as those I have been giving you are necessary. I want to show you—indeed, I must show you—how spiritual thinking leads to ideas which are compatible with reality. One must always combine the correct thought with the object; then one can recognize whether that object corresponds to reality or not.

Take Wilson's note to the Senate. As a sample it could even have certain effects in some respects. But this is not what matters. What matters is that it contains ‘shadowy concepts’. If it nevertheless has an effect, this is due to the vexatious nature of our time which can be influenced by vexatious means. Look at this matter objectively and try to form a concept against which you can measure the reality, the real content with which this shadowy concept could be linked. You need only ask one question: Could this note not just as well have been written in 1913? The idealistic nothings it contains could just as easily have been expressed in 1913! You see, a thinking which believes in the absolute is not based on reality. It is unrealistic to think that something ‘absolute’ will result every time. The present age has no talent for seeing through the lack of reality in thinking because it is always out for what is ‘right’ rather than for what is in keeping with reality.

That is why in my book Vom Menschenrätsel I emphasized so heavily the importance not only of what is logical but also of what is in keeping with reality. A single decision that took account of the facts as they are at this precise moment would be worth more than all the empty phrases put together. Historical documents are perhaps the best means of showing that what I am saying has to do with reality, for as time has gone on the only people to come to the surface are those who want to rule the world with abstractions, and this is what has led to the plight of the world today. Proper thinking, which takes account of things as they are, will discover the realities wherever they are. Indeed, they are so close at hand! Take the real concept which I introduced from another point of view the other day: Out of what later became Italy in the South there arose the priestly cultic element which created as its opposition the Protestantism of Central Europe; from the West was formed the diplomatic, political element which also created an opposition for itself; and from the North-west was formed the mercantile element which again created for itself an opposition; and in Central Europe an opposition coming out of the general, human element will of necessity arise. Let us look once more at the way these things stream outwards. (See diagram.)

Even for the fourth post-Atlantean period—proceeding on from the old fourfold classification in which one spoke of castes—we can begin to describe this structure in a somewhat different way: Plato spoke of ‘guardian-rulers’; this is the realm for which Rome—priestly, papal Rome—seized the monopoly, achieving a situation in which she alone was allowed to establish doctrinal truths. She was to be the only source of all doctrine, even the highest.

In a different realm, the political, diplomatic element is nothing other than Plato's ‘guardian-auxiliaries’. I have shown you that, regardless of what people call Prussian militarism, the real military element was formed with France as its starting point, after the first foundations had been laid in Switzerland. That is where the military element began, but of course it created an opposition for itself by withholding from others what it considered to be its own prerogative. It wants to dominate the world in a soldierly way, so that when something soldierly comes to meet it from elsewhere it finds this quite unjustified, just as Rome finds it unjustified if something comes towards her which is to do with the great truths of the universe.

And here, instead of mercantilism, we might just as well write ‘the industrial and agricultural class’. Think on this, meditate on it, and you will come to understand that this third factor corresponds to the provision of material needs. So what is being withheld? Foodstuffs, of course!

If you apply Plato's concepts appropriately, in accordance with reality, then you will find reality everywhere, for with these concepts you will be able fully to enter into reality. Starting from the concept, you must find the way to reality, and the concept will be able to plunge down into the most concrete parts of reality. Shadowy concepts, on the other hand, never find reality, but they do lend themselves exceptionally well to idealistic chatter. With real concepts, though, you can work you way through to an understanding of reality in every detail. Here lies the task of spiritual science. Spiritual science leads to concepts through which you can really discover life, which of course is created by the spirit, and through which you will be able to join in a constructive way at working on the formation of this life.

One concept, in particular, requires realistic thinking, owing to the terrible destiny at present weighing down on mankind, for the corresponding unreal concept is especially persistent in this connection. Those who speak in the most unrealistic way of all, these days, are the clergymen. What they express about Christianity or the awareness of God, apropos of the war, is enough to send anyone up the wall, as they say. They distort things so frightfully. Of course things in other connections are distorted too, but in this realm the degree of absurdity is even greater.

Look at the sermons or tracts at present stemming from that source; apply your good common sense to them. Of course it is understandable that they should ask: Does mankind have to be subjected to this terrible, painful destiny? Could not the divine forces of God intervene on behalf of mankind to bring about salvation? The justification for speaking in this way does indeed seem absolute. But there is no real concept behind it. It does not apply to the reality of the situation. Let me use a comparison to show you what I mean.

Human beings have a certain physical constitution. They take in food which is of a kind which enables them to go on living. If they were to refuse food, they would grow thin, become ill, and finally starve to death. Now is it natural to complain that if human beings refuse to eat it is a weakness or malevolence on the part of God to let them starve? Indeed it is not a weakness on the part of God. He created the food; human beings only need to eat it. The wisdom of God is revealed in the way the food maintains the human beings. If they refuse to eat it, they cannot turn round and accuse God of letting them starve.

Now apply this to what I was saying. Mankind must regard spiritual life as a food. It is given by the gods, but it has to be taken in by man. To say that the gods ought to intervene directly is tantamount to saying that if I refuse to eat God ought to satisfy my hunger in some other way. The wisdom-filled order of the universe ensures that what is needed for salvation is always available, but it is up to human beings to make a relationship with it. So the spiritual life necessary for the twentieth century will not enter human beings of itself. They must strive for it and take it into themselves. If they fail to take it in, times will grow more and more dismal. What takes place on the surface is only maya. What is happening inwardly, is that an older age is wrestling with a new one. The general, human element is rising up everywhere in opposition to the specialized elements. It is maya to believe that nation is fighting against nation—and I have spoken about this maya in other connections too. The battle of nation with nation only comes about because things group themselves in certain ways but, in reality, the inward forces opposing one another are something quite different. The opposition is between the old and the new. The laws now fighting to come into play are quite different from those which have traditionally ruled over the world.

And again it was maya—that is, something appearing under a false guise—to say that those other laws were rising up on behalf of socialism. Socialism is not something connected with truth; above all it is not connected with spiritual life, for what it wants is to connect itself with materialism. What really wants to wrestle its way into existence is the many-sided, harmonious element of mankind, in opposition to the one-sided priestly, political or mercantile elements. This battle will rage for a long time, but it can be conducted in all kinds of different ways. If a healthy way of leading life, such as that described by Planck in the nineteenth century, had been adopted, then the bloody conduct of the first third of the twentieth century would, at least, have been ameliorated. Idealisms do not lead to amelioration, but realistic thinking does, and realistic thinking also always means spiritual thinking.

Equally, we can say that whatever has to happen will happen. Whatever it is that is wrestling its way out, must needs go through all these experiences in order to reach a stage at which spirituality can be united with the soul, so that man can grow up spiritually. Today's tragic destiny of mankind is that in striving upwards today, human beings are endeavouring to do so not under the sign of spirituality but under the sign of materialism. This in the first instance is what brought them into conflict with those brotherhoods who want to develop the impulses of the mercantile element, commerce and industry, in a materialistic way on a grand scale. This is today's main conflict. All other things are side issues, often terrible side issues. This shows us how terrible maya can be. But it is possible to strive for things in different ways. If others had been in power instead of the agents of those brotherhoods, then we would, today, be busy with peace negotiations, and the Christmas call for peace would not have been shouted down!

It is going to be immensely difficult to find clear and realistic concepts and ideas in respect of certain things; but we must all seek to find them in our own areas. Those who enter a little into the meaning of spiritual science, and compare this spiritual science with other things making an appearance just now, will see that this spiritual science is the only path that can lead to concepts which are filled with reality.

I wanted to say this very seriously to you at this time. Despite the fact that the task of spiritual science can only be comprehended out of the spirit itself, out of knowledge, and not out of what we have been discussing today, I wanted to show you the significance, the essential nature, of spiritual science for the present time. I wanted to show you how urgent it is for everything possible to be done to make spiritual science more widely known. It is so necessary in these difficult times for us to take spiritual science not only into our heads but really into our warm hearts. Only if we take it into the warmth of our hearts will we be capable of generating the strength needed by the present time.

None of us should allow ourselves to think that we are perhaps not in a suitable position, or not strong enough, to do what it is essential for us to do. Karma is sure to give every one of us, whatever our position, the opportunity to put the right questions to destiny at the right moment. Even if this right moment is neither today nor tomorrow, it is sure to come eventually. So once we have understood the impulses of this spiritual Movement we must stand firmly and steadfastly behind them. Today it is particularly necessary to set ourselves the aim of firmness and steadfastness. For either something important must come from one side or another—although this cannot be counted upon—in the very near future, or all conditions of life will become increasingly difficult. It would be utterly thoughtless to refuse to be clear about this. For two-and-a-half years it has been possible for what we now call war to carry on, while conditions remained as bearable as they now are. But this cannot go on for another year. Movements such as ours will be put te a severe test. There will be no question of asking when we shall next meet, or why do we not meet, or why this or that is not being published. No, indeed. It will be a question of bearing in our hearts, even through long periods of danger, a steadfast sense of belonging.

I wanted to say this to you today because it could be possible in the not too distant future that there will be no means of transport which will enable us to come together again; I am not speaking only of travel permits but of actual means of transport. In the long run, it will not be possible to keep the things going which constitute our modern civilization, if something breaks in on this civilization which, although it has arisen out of it, is nevertheless in absolute opposition to it. This is how absurd the situation is: Life itself is bringing forth things which are absolutely opposed to it.

So we must accept that difficult times may be in store for our Movement too. But we shall not be led astray if we have taken into ourselves the inner steadfastness, clarity and right feeling for the importance and nature of our Movement, and if in these serious times we can see beyond our petty differences. This, our Movement ought to be able to achieve; we ought to be able to look beyond our petty differences to the greater affairs of mankind, which are now at stake. The greatest of these is to reach an understanding of what it means to base thinking on reality. Wherever we look we are confronted with the impossibility of finding a thinking which accords with reality. We shall have to enter heart and soul into this search in order not to be led astray by all kinds of egoistic distractions.

This is what I wanted to say to you as my farewell today, since we are about to take leave of one another for some time. Make yourselves so strong—even if it should turn out to be unnecessary—that, even in loneliness of soul, your hearts will carry the pulse of spiritual science with which we are here concerned. Even the thought that we shall be steadfast will help a very great deal; for thoughts are realities. Many potential difficulties can still be swept away if we maintain an honest, serious quest in the direction we have here discussed so often.

Now that we have to depart for a while we shall not allow ourselves to flag, but shall make sure that we return if it is possible. But even if it should take a long time as a result of circumstances outside our control, we shall never lose the thought from our hearts and souls that this is the place—where our Movement has even brought forth a visible building—where the most intense requirement exists to bear this Movement so positively, so concretely, so energetically, that together we can carry it through, come what may. So wherever we are, let us stand together in thought, faithfully, energetically, cordially, and let us hear one another, even though this will not be possible with our physical ears. But we shall only hear one another if we listen with strong thoughts and without sentimentality, for the times are now unsuitable for sentimentality.

In this sense, I say farewell to you. My words are also a greeting, for in the days to come we shall meet again, though more in the spirit than on the physical plane. Let us hope that the latter, too, will be possible once more in the not too distant future.