10. Knowledge of the Higher Worlds (1947): Some Practical Aspects
Tr. George Metaxa, Henry B. Monges Rudolf Steiner |
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After this training they begin to assume a brilliant yellowish-green, or greenish-blue color, and show a regular structure. This inner regularity leading to higher knowledge, is attained when the student introduces into his thoughts and feelings the same orderly system with which nature has endowed his bodily organs that enable him to see, hear, digest, breath, speak. |
Especially fortunate is the student who can carry out his esoteric training surrounded by the green world of plants, or among the sunny hills, where nature weaves her web of sweet simplicity. This environment develops the inner organs in a harmony which can never ensue in a modern city. |
If our eyes cannot follow the woods in their mantel of green every spring, day by day, we should instead open our soul to the glorious teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, or of St. |
10. Knowledge of the Higher Worlds (1947): Some Practical Aspects
Tr. George Metaxa, Henry B. Monges Rudolf Steiner |
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[ 1 ] The training of thoughts and feelings, pursued in the way described in the chapters on Preparation, Enlightenment, and Initiation, introduces into the soul and spirit the same organic symmetry with which nature has constructed the physical body. Before this development, soul and spirit are undifferentiated masses. The clairvoyant perceives them as interlacing, rotating, cloud-like spirals, dully glimmering in reddish, reddish-brown, or reddish-yellow tones. After this training they begin to assume a brilliant yellowish-green, or greenish-blue color, and show a regular structure. This inner regularity leading to higher knowledge, is attained when the student introduces into his thoughts and feelings the same orderly system with which nature has endowed his bodily organs that enable him to see, hear, digest, breath, speak. Gradually he learns to breath and see with this soul, to speak and hear with the spirit. [ 2 ] In the following pages some practical aspects of the higher education of soul and spirit will be treated in greater detail. They are such that anyone can put them into practice regardless of other rules, and thereby be led some distance further into spiritual science. [ 3 ] A particular effort must be made to cultivate the quality of patience. Every symptom of impatience produces a paralyzing, even a destructive effect on the higher faculties that slumber in us. We must not expect an immeasurable view into the higher worlds from one day to the next, for we should assuredly be disappointed. Contentment with the smallest fragment attained, repose and tranquility, must more and more take possession of the soul. It is quite understandable that the student should await results with impatience; but he will achieve nothing so long as he fails to master this impatience. Nor is it of any use to combat this impatience merely in the ordinary sense, for it will become only that much stronger. We over-look it in self-deception while it plants itself all the more firmly in the depths of the soul. It is only when we ever and again surrender ourselves to a certain definite thought, making it absolutely our own, that any results can be attained. This thought is as follows: I must certainly do everything I can for the training and development of my soul and spirit; but I shall wait patiently until higher powers shall have found me worthy of definite enlightenment. If this thought becomes so powerful in the student that it grows into an actual feature of his character, he is treading the right path. This feature soon sets its mark on his exterior. The gaze of his eye becomes steady, the movement of his body becomes sure, his decisions definite, and all that goes under the name of nervousness gradually disappears. Rules that appear trifling and insignificant must be taken into account. For example, supposing someone affronts us. Before our training we should have directed our resentment against the offender; a wave of anger would have surged up within us. In a similar case, however, the thought is immediately present in the mind of the student that such an affront makes no difference to his intrinsic worth. And he does whatever must be done to meet the affront with calm and composure, and not in a spirit of anger. Of course it is not a case of simply accepting every affront, but of acting with the same calm composure when dealing with an affront against our own person as we would if the affront were directed against another person, in whose favor we had the right to intervene. It must always be remembered that this training is not carried out in crude outward processes, but in subtle, silent alterations in the life of thought and feeling. [ 4 ] Patience has the effect of attraction, impatience the effect of repulsion on the treasures of higher knowledge. In the higher regions of existence nothing can be attained by haste and unrest. Above all things, desire and craving must be silenced, for these are qualities of the soul before which all higher knowledge shyly withdraws. However precious this knowledge is accounted, the student must not crave it if he wishes to attain it. If he wishes to have it for his own sake, he will never attain it. This requires him to be honest with himself in his innermost soul. He must in no case be under any illusion concerning his own self. With a feeling of inner truth he must look his own faults, weaknesses, and unfitness full in the face. The moment he tries to excuse to himself any of his weaknesses, he has placed a stone in his way on the path which is to lead him upward. Such obstacles can only be removed by self-enlightenment. There is only one way to get rid of faults and failings, and that is by a clear recognition of them. Everything slumbers in the human soul and can be awakened. A person can even improve his intellect and reason, if he quietly and calmly makes it clear to himself why he is weak in this respect. Such self- knowledge is, of course, difficult, for the temptation to self-deception is immeasurably great. Anyone making a habit of being truthful with himself opens the portal leading to a deeper insight. [ 5 ] All curiosity must fall away from the student. He must rid himself as much as possible of the habit of asking questions merely for the sake of gratifying a selfish thirst for knowledge. He must only ask when knowledge can serve to perfect his own being in the service of evolution. Nevertheless, his delight in knowledge and his devotion to it should in no way be hampered. He should listen devoutly to all that contributes to such an end, and should seek every opportunity for such devotional attention. [ 6 ] Special attention must be paid in esoteric training to the education of the life of desires. This does not mean that we are to become free of desire, for if we are to attain something we must also desire it, and desire will always tend to fulfillment if backed by a particular force. This force is derived from a right knowledge. Do not desire at all until you know what is right in any one sphere. That is one of the golden rules for the student. The wise man first ascertains the laws of the world, and then his desires become powers which realize themselves. The following example brings this out clearly. There are certainly many people who would like to learn from their own observation something about their life before birth. Such a desire is altogether useless and leads to no result so long as the person in question has not acquired a knowledge of the laws that govern the nature of the eternal, a knowledge of these laws in their subtlest and most intimate character, through the study of spiritual science. But if, having really acquired this knowledge, he wishes to proceed further, his desire, now ennobled and purified, will enable him to do so. [ 7 ] It is also no use saying: I particularly wish to examine my previous life, and shall study only for this purpose. We must rather be capable of abandoning this desire, of eliminating it altogether, and of studying, at first, with no such intention. We should cultivate a feeling of joy and devotion for what we learn, with no thought of the above end in view. We should learn to cherish and foster a particular desire in such a way that it brings with it its own fulfillment. [ 8 ] If we become angered, vexed or annoyed, we erect a wall around ourselves in the soul-world, and the forces which are to develop the eyes of the soul cannot approach. For instance, if a person angers me he sends forth a psychic current into the soul-world. I cannot see this current as long as I am myself capable of anger. My own anger conceals it from me. We must not, however, suppose that when we are free from anger we shall immediately have a psychic (astral) vision. For this purpose an organ of vision must have been developed in the soul. The beginnings of such an organ are latent in every human being, but remain ineffective as long as he is capable of anger. Yet this organ is not immediately present the moment anger has been combated to a small extent. We must rather persevere in this combating of anger and proceed patiently on our way; then some day we shall find that this eye of the soul has become developed. Of course, anger is not the only failing to be combated for the attainment of this end. Many grow impatient or skeptical, because they have for years combated certain qualities, and yet clairvoyance has not ensued. In that case they have just trained some qualities and allowed others to run riot. The gift of clairvoyance only manifests itself when all those qualities which stunt the growth of the latent faculties are suppressed. Undoubtedly, the beginnings of such seeing and hearing may appear at an earlier period, but these are only young and tender shoots which are subjected to all possible error, and which, if not carefully tended and guarded, may quickly die. [ 9 ] Other qualities which, like anger and vexation, have to be combated, are timidity, superstition, prejudice, vanity and ambition, curiosity, the mania for imparting information, and the making of distinctions in human beings according to the outward characteristics of rank, sex, race, and so forth. In our time it is difficult for people to understand how the combating of such qualities can have anything to do with the heightening of the faculty of cognition. But every spiritual scientist knows that much more depends upon such matters than upon the increase of intelligence and employment of artificial exercises. Especially can misunderstanding arise if we believe that we must become foolhardy in order to be fearless; that we must close our eyes to the differences between people, because we must combat the prejudices of rank, race, and so forth. Rather is it true that a correct estimate of all things is to be attained only when we are no longer entangled in prejudice. Even in the ordinary sense it is true that the fear of some phenomenon prevents us from estimating it rightly; that a racial prejudice prevents us from seeing into a man's soul. It is this ordinary sense that the student must develop in all its delicacy and subtlety. [ 10 ] Every word spoken without having been thoroughly purged in thought is a stone thrown in the way of esoteric training. And here something must be considered which can only be explained by giving an example. If anything be said to which we must reply, we must be careful to consider the speaker's opinion, feeling, and even his prejudice, rather than what we ourselves have to say at the moment on the subject under discussion. In this example a refined quality of tact is indicated, to the cultivation of which the student must devote his care. He must learn to judge what importance it may have for the other person if he opposes the latter's opinion with his own. This does not mean that he must withhold his opinion. There can be no question of that. But he must listen to the speaker as carefully and as attentively as he possibly can and let his reply derive its form from what he has just heard. In such cases one particular thought recurs ever and again to the student, and he is treading the right path if this thought lives with him to the extent of becoming a trait of his character. This thought is as follows: The importance lies not in the difference of our opinions but in his discovering through his own effort what is right if I contribute something toward it. Thoughts of this and of a similar nature cause the character and the behavior of the student to be permeated with a quality of gentleness, which is one of the chief means used in all esoteric training. Harshness scares away the soul-pictures that should open the eye of the soul; gentleness clears the obstacles away and unseals the inner organs. [ 11 ] Along with gentleness, another quality will presently be developed in the soul of the student: that of quietly paying attention to all the subtleties in the soul-life of his environment, while reducing to absolute silence any activity within his own soul. The soul-life of his environment will impress itself on him in such a way that his own soul will grow, and as it grows, become regular in its structure, as a plant expanding in the sunlight. Gentleness and patient reserve open the soul to the soul-world and the spirit to the spirit-world. Persevere in silent inner seclusion; close the senses to all that they brought you before your training; reduce to absolute immobility all the thoughts which, according to your previous habits, surged within you; become quite still and silent within, wait in patience, and then the higher worlds will begin to fashion and perfect the organs of sights and hearing in your soul and spirit. Do not expect immediately to see and hear in the world of soul and spirit, for all that you are doing does but contribute to the development of your higher senses, and you will only be able to hear with soul and spirit when you possess these higher senses. Having persevered for a time in silent inner seclusion, go about your customary daily affairs, imprinting deeply upon your mind this thought: “Some day, when I have grown sufficiently, I shall attain that which I am destined to attain,” and make no attempt to attract forcefully any of these higher powers to yourself. Every student receives these instructions at the outset. By observing them he perfects himself. If he neglects them, all his labor is in vain. But they are only difficult of achievement for the impatient and the unpersevering. No other obstacles exist save those which we ourselves place in our own path, and which can be avoided by all who really will. This point must be continually emphasized, because many people form an altogether wrong conception of the difficulties that beset the path to higher knowledge. It is easier, in a certain sense, to accomplish the first steps along this path than to get the better of the commonest every-day difficulties without this training. Apart from this, only such things are here imparted as are attended by no danger whatsoever to the health of soul and body. There are other ways which lead more quickly to the goal, but what is here explained has nothing to do with them, because they have certain effects which no experienced spiritual scientist considers desirable. Since fragmentary information concerning these ways is continually finding its way into publicity, express warning must be given against entering upon them. For reasons which only the initiated can understand, these ways can never be made public in their true form. The fragments appearing here and there can never lead to profitable results, but may easily undermine health, happiness, and peace of mind. It would be far better for people to avoid having anything to do with such things than to risk entrusting themselves to wholly dark forces, of whose nature and origin they can know nothing. [ 12 ] Something may here be said concerning the environment in which this training should be undertaken, for this is not without some importance. And yet the case differs for almost every person. Anyone practicing in an environment filled only with self-seeking interests, as for example, the modern struggle for existence, must be conscious of the fact that these interests are not without their effect on the development of his spiritual organs. It is true that the inner laws of these organs are so powerful that this influence cannot be fatally injurious. Just as a lily can never grow into a thistle, however inappropriate its environment, so, too, the eye of the soul can never grow to anything but its destined shape even though it be subjected to the self-seeking interests of modern cities. But under all circumstances it is well if the student seeks, now and again, his environment in the restful peace, the inner dignity and sweetness of nature. Especially fortunate is the student who can carry out his esoteric training surrounded by the green world of plants, or among the sunny hills, where nature weaves her web of sweet simplicity. This environment develops the inner organs in a harmony which can never ensue in a modern city. More favorably situated than the townsman is the person who, during his childhood at least, had been able to breathe the fragrance of pines, to gaze on snowy peaks, and observe the silent activity of woodland creatures and insects. Yet no city-dweller should fail to give to the organs of his soul and spirit, as they develop, the nurture that comes from the inspired teachings of spiritual research. If our eyes cannot follow the woods in their mantel of green every spring, day by day, we should instead open our soul to the glorious teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, or of St. John's Gospel, or of St. Thomas à Kempis, and to the descriptions resulting from spiritual science. There are many ways to the summit of insight, but much depends on the right choice. The spiritually experienced could say much concerning these paths, much that might seem strange to the uninitiated. Someone, for instance, might be very far advanced on the path; he might be standing, so to speak, at the very entrance of sight and hearing with soul and spirit; he is then fortunate enough to make a journey over the calm or maybe tempestuous ocean, and a veil falls away from the eyes of his soul; suddenly he becomes a seer. Another is also so far advanced that this veil only needs to be loosened; this occurs through some stroke of destiny. On another this stroke might well have had the effect of paralyzing his powers and undermining his energy; for the esoteric student it becomes the occasion of his enlightenment. A third perseveres patiently for years without any marked result. Suddenly, while silently seated in his quiet chamber, spiritual light envelops him; the walls disappear, become transparent for his soul, and a new world expands before his eyes that have become seeing, or resounds in his ears that have become spiritually hearing. |
32. Collected Essays on Literature 1884-1902: Franz Ferdinand Heitmüller
14 Jul 1900, Rudolf Steiner |
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And very slowly, as the germs and budding buds stirred and stretched within her, dreamlike, unconscious, diverse, every day, every hour, ever stronger, swelling, a drunken confusion, until her white soul stood in a thousand glowing blossoms: - very slowly and hesitantly, the ground of the child's soul also began to green and to cover itself with the first shy colorful flowers. And on this soft ground her dreaming love wandered, pulling up the weeds everywhere or breaking a flower that had unfolded overnight, greedily inhaling its weak scent – shyly, trembling, dazed. Here and there she bent and cut back the overhanging branches, she drove away the shadow and let in the light, so that the other many buds that were peeping out everywhere from the light green lawn could also develop and unfold in full strength. And the light came from everywhere, for love has a hundred busy hands that never tire of bending aside leaf after leaf so that the sun can shine through...» |
32. Collected Essays on Literature 1884-1902: Franz Ferdinand Heitmüller
14 Jul 1900, Rudolf Steiner |
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The collection of short stories by Franz Ferdinand Heitmüller, “Tampete” (Berlin S. Fischers Verlag 1899), published some time ago 1 contains an artistic pearl. It is the novella “Tampete” that gave the volume its name. A mood poet of great narrative and characterization power has created this small work of art. “Tampete“, this Lower Saxony peasant dance, this German tarantella, lives on in this spirited style; the figures stand before us with deepened passion, like people who are not living out their own lives, but a demonic force that possesses them.” In his recently published volume, Heitmüller has once again given us such a pearl: the novella “Als der Sommer kam”. This time, however, it is not as if a wild nature were speaking from the soul of a human being; this time it is a soul itself that is presented to us in its most intimate destiny, in lonely struggles: a soul that returns to itself from the alienation into which the world has brought it, that grows from smallness to greatness. Eugenie's child has grown up in the hands of strangers. But she herself must be seen as the virgin girl in her social environment. Only in this way can it be imagined that Arthur, her fiancé, who as a public prosecutor has “obligations to society”, will marry her. So Eugenie lives a life of pretense in the city, in the hope that one day she will be able to live a life of pretense at Arthur's side. Her child, however, whom she has hardly seen, lives far away from her, condemned to be disowned by its mother for the rest of its life. An illness of this child calls the mother to it. She hopes - a fatal illness, because with the child, what Arthur is repeatedly concerned about would be eliminated. A mother's soul, completely subjugated by the violence of social conditions, comes to her child, who is so foreign to her that she mistakes him for a stranger at first. And this mother's soul finds all the motherly love she needs at the sickbed, and with this love she finds herself, as a liberated, as an overcomer and victor. She describes this victory to the doctor of the country town, with whom she has become friends during the child's illness; she talks about how she has become free in the rural solitude, and how she now wants to carry this freedom into the city, where people can never understand such things, but where she wants to defy the lack of understanding. “The fact that I am here among people who are more or less indifferent to me and who are of no concern to me, that I am here, in a strange environment, so to speak, confessing my child, is not so bad after all. But there, in my usual sphere, which is no longer to be mine, it means something. Do you think I want to hide here and be secretive with my happiness? No, I want to proclaim it loudly, to shout it out so that everyone can hear it: look, this is me – the real me – and if they spit at me and I still remain in the calm equilibrium of proud love, then you see, only then do I have a right to myself and to the child whose mother I want to be. I want to be free of people and their rules, and that is why I have to go back to them.» Heitmüller depicts the complete transformation of a human spirit. And he does so on fifty-two pages that are not too densely printed. But he does so with full inner truth. The poet has clearly encountered a problem that speaks to him in a rare way. He has mastered the entire psychology of this problem. And this psychology is worked out from a mood that is fully in harmony with it. Heitmüller knows how to stylishly interweave the girl's process of liberation with her life in nature. “She had rented a few rooms, far out in a somewhat dilapidated country house on the mountain. She had always seen it with its white-painted walls shining from afar. Like a hope. When she discovered a glass-covered veranda at the back of the house, which led to a spacious garden with old shady trees, she quickly came to an agreement with the owner. - And so they lived their quiet, regular lives... And very slowly, as the germs and budding buds stirred and stretched within her, dreamlike, unconscious, diverse, every day, every hour, ever stronger, swelling, a drunken confusion, until her white soul stood in a thousand glowing blossoms: - very slowly and hesitantly, the ground of the child's soul also began to green and to cover itself with the first shy colorful flowers. And on this soft ground her dreaming love wandered, pulling up the weeds everywhere or breaking a flower that had unfolded overnight, greedily inhaling its weak scent – shyly, trembling, dazed. Here and there she bent and cut back the overhanging branches, she drove away the shadow and let in the light, so that the other many buds that were peeping out everywhere from the light green lawn could also develop and unfold in full strength. And the light came from everywhere, for love has a hundred busy hands that never tire of bending aside leaf after leaf so that the sun can shine through...» This is how someone who has the finest sensitivity to the wonderful harmony that exists between the life of nature and the struggling human soul describes it. Who has a lively feeling for how deeply symbolically the human mind's desire for freedom is silently hinted at in the creations of the outside world, and how in the human heart the growth and blossoming, the germination and budding of nature is transformed into the language of the spirit. I am less satisfied with the first novella in the book: “The Treasure in Heaven”. What Heitmüller achieved so perfectly in “When Summer Came” was to find the right style for his subject: in this novella, he has probably gone wrong. This farmer, who is so clumsily and comically deceived by Resi, the farmer's daughter, is a magnificent character, but he should be drawn with a sharp sense of humor, and we should not have the impression that the lines, which as caricatures we might well like, are being offered to us with complete seriousness. The poet does indeed make attempts at a humorous style throughout. However, it seems to me that the tone of humor does not really venture out. And so we have to accept that Resi deceives the Gaisdorffer farmer, that his deceased daughter writes him letters from heaven asking for loans, that the farmer believes this and really gives his money to help his daughter in heaven find her bridegroom. But Resi, the good girl, wants to use the money to buy herself a very earthly bridegroom, Wastl. The “pious girl” even manages to persuade the farmer that her and Wastl's little offspring is actually the Gaisdorffer farmer's grandchild. Crescence, the deceased daughter, who is still so in need of money in death, brought her the child. The farmer finally marries the “pious girl” with the child that fell from heaven. Wastl goes out into the big wide world, falls in love with someone else, and not without first spending the money that Resi has swindled from the farmer for heavenly purposes. Heitmüller's skill at drawing simple, undifferentiated people, which we know from “Tampete”, is also evident here. None of these characters, except for the Gaisdorffer farmer himself, has suffered from the mistake of style. I again place the last novella of the collection, “Abt David”, much higher. Here Heitmüller, the sympathetic poet of mood, lives out fully. Therefore, we are happy to overlook the fact that the idea of the story remains too pale, too abstract. David von Winkelsheim is a real abbot from the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. With a priestly attitude in which Catholic principles have become completely habitual, he combines a fine sense of art. He decorates his monastery with treasures of beauty, where praying and reading the mass are only done out of old tradition, but precisely and dutifully. With delicate sensitivity, the poet depicts how a general trend of the times is reflected in a small corner of the world. His abbot reflects the attitude of many Catholic priests of the time in which the novella is set. The worldly desires and passions that must be silenced in the soul of a priest take the form of artistic longing in David. And in a meaningful contrast to the abbot stands his brother, the man of the world of that time, who brings the adventurous Johanna, the artist in men's clothing, to him so that she can decorate the monastery with works of art. The abbot sees in Johanna only the artist, but the brother loves her as a woman. And when she finds death in the floods of the Rhine, the full contrast between the natures of the two brothers is revealed. Wolf von Winkelsheim – that is David's brother's name – describes this contrast: “At the time when she lost her father so suddenly in Florence, when she had to return home alone, she may well have had the adventurous idea. Dressed as a man, she could better protect herself from the dangers of the streets and the menfolk. But I know all about that, and the morning we broke in here, it was clear to me that there was a woman in those trousers. But I went along with the pious deception – of course! To finally get rid of my promise to give him the paintings. The brother got what he wanted too, he has his pictures, and his “Herr Johannes” lives on with him and can never die. But I have lost “Frau Johanna” - I paid too much for the pictures.” The poet brings this anecdote to life in such a way that he depicts it as it comes alive in him during a stay in the old monastery, which was secularized around 1529, while he rummages through the archives. In the drawing of the monastery and the nature in which it is set, we encounter Heitmüller's beautiful atmospheric painting again. Those with a sense for genuine poetic novella will follow Heitmüller's stories with heartfelt joy.
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109. Rosicrucian Esotericism: Soul in the World Around Us
04 Jun 1909, Budapest Tr. Helen Fox Rudolf Steiner |
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The difference between mineral and plant arises through the fact that the etheric body of the plant is within it, permeating every single part. The green pervading the plant is the substance described previously as being the etheric body of the mineral outside it. But if all that could be said about the plant were that it is permeated by an etheric body, it would not blossom but only produce green leaves. When the plant begins to blossom, clairvoyant consciousness sees something spreading over and playing around it. This is the astral life, which brings about the crowning of the growth. The green plant grows and finally something new, the astral element, spreads over and plays around it but never penetrates into it. |
109. Rosicrucian Esotericism: Soul in the World Around Us
04 Jun 1909, Budapest Tr. Helen Fox Rudolf Steiner |
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As I said yesterday in the introductory lecture, the intention in this course is to give a picture, a kind of review of the theosophical world conception. It will be necessary to speak of a number of subjects with which many in the audience are already familiar. But only by learning of these truths from their very foundations will it be possible later on to consider higher regions. Before beginning the actual theme, I want to speak of a matter of exceptional importance. Why is it that we must concern ourselves with theosophical ideas and theories before we can ourselves actually experience anything in the spiritual world? Many people will say, “The results of clairvoyant investigation are made known to us, but I myself cannot yet see into the spiritual world. Would it not be wiser if, instead of the results of investigation being communicated to us, I were told how I can myself develop clairvoyance? Each individual would then be able to undertake the further development himself.” Those who are unacquainted with the principles of occult investigation may believe that it would be better if such facts had not previously been made known. But in the spiritual world there is a definite law, the significance of which we will make clear by an example. Suppose that in a certain year some properly trained clairvoyant had perceived this or that in the spiritual world. Now imagine that ten or twenty years later, another equally trained clairvoyant could see the same thing even if he had known nothing whatever about the result obtained by the first clairvoyant. If you were to believe that this could happen, you would be making a great mistake, for the truth is that a fact of the spiritual world that has once been discovered by a clairvoyant or by an occult school, cannot be investigated a second time if the would-be investigator has not first been informed that it has already been discovered. If, therefore, in the year 1900 a certain fact had been investigated and in the year 1950 another clairvoyant reaches the stage of being able to perceive the same thing, he can succeed only if he has realized that someone has already investigated and fathomed it. Therefore, already known facts in the spiritual world can be perceived only when their import has been consciously grasped as communications already made. This is the law that establishes for all epochs the foundation of universal brotherliness. It is impossible to penetrate into any domain of the spiritual world without a link having first been made with what has already been fathomed by the Elder Brothers of humanity. The spiritual world sees to it that nobody can become a law unto himself, saying, “I am not concerned with what is already there. I shall investigate only for myself.” None of the facts communicated in spiritual science today could be perceived by individuals, however highly developed and advanced, if they had not been previously known. Because a link must be there with what has already been discovered, the theosophical movement had also to be founded on this basis. In a comparatively short time from now, many individuals will become clairvoyant, but they would be able to see only unreality, not truth, in the spiritual world if they had not heard of what had already been investigated. First one must have knowledge of these truths, such as is given by theosophy, or the science of the spirit, and only then can they be actually perceived. Even a clairvoyant must get to know what has already been discovered, and then, after conscientious training, he can perceive the facts himself. It may be said that the divine beings fertilize a faculty of seership only once in a human soul and if this single, virginal fertilization has been achieved, then other human beings must pay attention to what this first soul has discovered in order to have the right to see it themselves. This law lays the foundations of an inner, universal brotherliness, a true brotherhood of men. From epoch to epoch wisdom has passed through the occult schools and been faithfully harbored by the Masters, and we, too, must help to preserve this treasure and maintain brotherliness with those who have already achieved something if we wish to make our way into the higher regions of the spiritual world. What is striven for on the physical plane as moral law is natural law in the spiritual world. Theosophy teaches us that everything physical or material is born out of the spiritual. But in our epoch it behooves us not to be satisfied with this bare realization of a spiritual world. That behind everything material, everything physical, there is the spiritual, is an essential, but abstract, consciousness of spirit. What is necessary is to develop definite concepts and ideas of how the spiritual becomes manifest in each domain. Today one can only guide some other individual by conscientiously ensuring that he takes all the steps leading from the external into the spiritual world. The first kingdom to be observed among the physical kingdoms around us, is that of the minerals, the world of stones. The kingdom of the minerals is distinguished from the human kingdom, for example, by the fact that a man knows that if he has given someone else a hard blow, the latter feels pain. There is no outer evidence that a mineral feels pain from a blow. From this the conclusion is drawn that in man there is a soul that feels pleasure and suffering, but not in the mineral. We will not at the outset insist that the mineral also has a soul, because there we must already take note of the results of clairvoyant investigation. The stone as it lies before us has in it nothing of the nature of soul. But what is essential in a spiritual world conception is that observation shall be directed to the right place and not to a false one. Think of a tiny animal observing a human being but actually able to see only his fingernails. It would say that these fingernails are objects on their own, for the tiny animal cannot realize that the nails belong to and are part of an organism. When it is able to survey and see the whole, then its observation will be true. The same principle applies to the spiritual investigator and the mineral world. If you regard the stone as being something complete in itself, you are in the position of the tiny animal that takes the fingernails or the teeth to be the whole man, a complete being. Think of the rocks on the earth. They can only be conceived as having grown out of the whole organism of the earth. But where is the being of which these rocks are parts, to which all these rocks belong? There are spiritual beings to whom the whole world of stones belongs. These beings feel happiness and pain, pleasure and suffering just as does the human soul, so that we can properly speak of a mineral soul. You must not, however, judge on the basis of mere analogies, because that might lead you to think that when a stone is smashed the mineral soul feels pain, but that is not the case. A man feels pain if one of his fingers is crushed, but in similar circumstances the mineral soul feels contentment and pleasure. The being belonging to the mineral experiences great happiness when stones are crushed, and pain when the fragments are put together again. Because in the external world, mineral fragments are constantly being separated off and put together again, pleasure and pain are continually being felt in the souls of the beings who belong to the mineral kingdom. Suppose we have salt here and a glass filled with warm water. What happens if we drop the salt into the water? To clairvoyant observation the grains of salt do not only dissolve in the water but feelings of well-being arise; actual pleasure becomes evident when the salt permeates the water in the glass. Then, when the water cools and a cube of salt crystallizes out, this causes suffering to the mineral soul. In mountain ranges where rocks have formed this is what has happened. When crystals form in the earth the process is accompanied by suffering and pain for the beings belonging basically to the mineral kingdom. When a planet is born, collects into a coherent mass and condenses, this process causes pain and suffering to the spiritual beings involved in it. When a planet such as our earth comes into existence, the process is accompanied by pain and suffering. You may now ask me where then these beings are that the eye does not see, that feel pain and suffering, well-being and happiness, when, for example, stones are broken up by workmen in a quarry. Where are these beings? In a comparatively lofty spiritual world! The mineral substance seen by the eye is only a shadowy image of these beings. They live in a world we call the world of formlessness. Spiritual beings live in our whole mineral world-in the world of formlessness according to occult investigation. Why do we use this expression, “world of formlessness?” This will be understood at once when we turn to the world of plants. The plant, too, is the expression of certain beings of soul. Here again we will study the results of spiritual investigation. This tells us that when, for example, in the autumn, the corn is mown and the scythe cuts through the stalks, no suffering is felt by the soul-beings whose bodies are the plants. No indeed! We must not think of suffering here because whole streams of joy and contentment weave over the area. Equally, when the animal is turned out to graze, it means happiness for the plant souls, not pain. It can be compared with the feeling experienced by a mammal when its offspring sucks its milk; this gives a feeling of bliss. What our planet furnishes on its surface in the way of nourishment for the beings inhabiting it, is, so to speak, milk for the beings that belong to the planet and have their habitation in the center of the earth. You may ask if all of them are able to find a place there. Certainly they are, because of the prevailing law of permeability. Their self-surrender, when a certain degree of maturity has been reached, means bliss for the plant soul. Pain is caused when plants are torn out of the soil. Now you. may say: Yes, but when mischievous boys and girls uselessly tear off flowers how can that possibly cause happiness to the plant soul? Would it not be much better to root out the plant altogether? How can that cause it pain? From the point of view that is valid for the physical world you are certainly right in saying this. But it must not be forgotten that these points of view are by no means always authoritative for the spiritual worlds. A person may look more handsome when he has torn out the first grey hairs that have appeared on his head but pain is caused nevertheless. It is all a matter of the point of view concerned and we cannot struggle against the occult world with moral considerations. Beings, souls—they also belong to the plants—beings and souls for which the plant world supplies the bodies. We will now try to form an idea of how happiness and suffering take their course in the plant world. The plant world is a shadow of the spiritual world. Where, then, are the beings that belong to it? In the world of form. They are also known by different names. The spiritual beings belonging to the mineral kingdom inhabit a spiritual realm, the realm of formlessness; the spiritual beings belonging to the plants live in the realm of form. Realm of Formlessness, Arupa or Upper Devachan. Realm of Form, Rupa or Lower Devachan. The souls of the minerals belong to a definite region of the spiritual world, indeed, to its upper region. This must not surprise you, for the higher the realm in which the souls live, the more thoroughly they conceal themselves. Why is the one realm called the realm of formlessness and the other the realm of form? When a crystal is smashed it is its form alone that is destroyed. This can, however, be reconstructed somewhere else, independently of the form that was destroyed. When a salt crystal comes into existence in nature it need not necessarily do so out of another crystal. It can only arise from the substance of salt and disappear again as form. That is the characteristic of formless substance. In the case of the plant, the form cannot come into existence in the same way, out of substance, out of the formless. The plant—this is its essential characteristic—must develop out of a parental plant. The form must pass over from progenitor to offspring in the case of the souls of the beings in the realm of form; procreation takes place as the result of transmission of the form. The form alone, nothing else, is contained in the seed. It is a superficial belief of science that there is no great difference between plant seed and animal egg. In the animal egg, form and life are transmitted from progenitor to off-spring: Life is transmitted. In the seed of the lily nothing except the form is preserved and it is transmitted to the new lily. What happens in the mineral is that the forces that, so to speak, implant the form arise in the higher realm of Devachan. In the case of the crystal, the formlessness shoots as it were into the form confronting the eye. We must, therefore, say that the whole planet upon which plant life unfolds is surrounded by collective life containing the impulse that enables the life of the plant to arise from it, and from the plant seed only the form. From the life of the old lily nothing passes over to the flower bed or flower pot in which the seed is lying. That the new lily is imbued with life is due to the fact that the seed has been received into the. universal life of our earth. Here we come to the transition to the animal kingdom. The form alone is passed on through the seed; life arises because the seed is received into the universal life of our earth. The quality of soul in the animal is visually perceptible and it is therefore self-evident to speak of happiness and suffering, joy and pain in this case. If we are to be clear about what happiness and suffering mean in the plant kingdom, we must turn to the study of other beings because happiness and suffering are felt outside single plants; the whole organism of the earth feels them, just as when you cut a finger the pain is not in the finger itself but is led over to the whole organism. If you want to understand what pain is in the plant, you must turn to the earth as a whole in order to contact the soul of the plant there. The essential difference lies in the fact that if an animal is wounded, the pain is situated inside its skin, as is also the case with the animal nature of the human being. Here we are coming ever nearer to individualization; the higher the evolution of the kingdoms of nature ascends, the nearer we come to beings whose center is within themselves. We study the plant rightly only when we study it in connection with the earth as a whole. The animal has a soul and admittedly feels happiness and suffering within the limits of its skin. We do not actually see this soul because it is in the realm we call the astral world. The animals are creatures that have a center in themselves and their souls live in the astral realm. Thus there is a certain systematic order in our idea of the world. The mineral conceals its soul deeply, the plant less deeply and the animal less deeply still; the animal has its center in itself, in the realm that is invisible. We must look for the souls of the animals in a world other than the physical. Thus we distinguish four kingdoms. Firstly, the realm of the visible forms of minerals, plants and animals, the physical world. Secondly, the realm where the invisible nature of the animal is to be found, the astral world. Thirdly, the realm of the plants, the souls of which are hidden in lower Devachan. Fourthly, the realm of beings whose souls are hidden in upper Devachan. The differentiation is obvious even from observation of the external world. We will now, however, turn to the results of clairvoyant investigation. In the space occupied by the mineral as such, nothing of the nature of soul is present. This space is void of soul, black, but round about and outside it luminosity begins; further away this luminosity increases in strength. What is it? It is the etheric body of the mineral that originates in the cosmos, drawn from a part of the ether where no actual mineral exists. The cosmic soul forces of the mineral experience joy and sorrow in the space where the etheric body of the mineral is present. There suffering begins, or happiness, perhaps, anticipates the severance of stone from a quarry like a spiritual ray of light. The etheric body of the mineral encircles its physical body. It could be said that where the mineral exists as such, the etheric body has densified to such a degree that it has become physical. The difference between mineral and plant arises through the fact that the etheric body of the plant is within it, permeating every single part. The green pervading the plant is the substance described previously as being the etheric body of the mineral outside it. But if all that could be said about the plant were that it is permeated by an etheric body, it would not blossom but only produce green leaves. When the plant begins to blossom, clairvoyant consciousness sees something spreading over and playing around it. This is the astral life, which brings about the crowning of the growth. The green plant grows and finally something new, the astral element, spreads over and plays around it but never penetrates into it. The animal has spiritually within it what hovers around the plant. When what hovers around the plant is inside the skin, the being is an animal. What hovers above the plant, the astral element, surrounds the whole earth. It is the collective astrality of the earth that hovers like smoke above the plant when it is about to flower. Happiness and suffering are not seated within the plant itself but are felt by the earth. The animal itself experiences happiness and suffering; the astral body within the animal weaves and is astir in the whole astrality of our earth. The mineral kingdom is as though embedded in an etheric world and has its etheric body around it. The plant is permeated by an etheric body and because the plant world is embedded in an astral body that is part of the collective astrality of the earth, pain and happiness are experienced outside the plant itself. The being that is not only swathed by the astral element but can actually take it into itself, is the animal. Thus we have now surveyed the three kingdoms of the world surrounding us and their connection with the higher worlds. Man is a little world in himself, the product of all that surrounds him. What we have discovered today we will use tomorrow in order to comprehend the structure of the human being. |
198. Knowledge as a Source of Healing: Knowledge as a Source of Healing I
20 Mar 1920, Dornach Tr. Violet E. Watkin Rudolf Steiner |
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To spiritual science with its spiritual vision this is perfectly clear, but the knowledge, thus brought to the surface so vividly through spiritual vision, can be arrived at also through physical facts, if we look, for instance, in Greek literature and notice the use of the Greek word chloros. By this they meant green, but curiously enough they used the same word for golden honey and the golden leaves in autumn; it was also applied to the gold of resin. |
So there is ample proof of such things, from which it can be seen that, as a people, the Greeks were simply incapable of distinguishing yellow from green, and that they did not perceive blue as the colour we do but saw everything tinged with the vividness of red or gold. |
Judging from our present theory of colour we must say: The Greeks were essentially blind to the colour blue; they did not see the blue in green but only the yellow. The surrounding world had, for them, a much more fiery aspect, for they saw it all with a reddish tinge. |
198. Knowledge as a Source of Healing: Knowledge as a Source of Healing I
20 Mar 1920, Dornach Tr. Violet E. Watkin Rudolf Steiner |
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What holds good for people today as an almost undisputed authority is science; science in the sense in which it is pursued in the educational institutions of the country. We have often spoken of how far the validity of science can go, and it has also been pointed out that people today must free themselves from its authority. I want now to show how it has become a characteristic phenomenon—but only of the last three or four centuries—to regard medicine as one of these sciences which hold sway as authorities. Indeed, everything connected with medicine is just one science among others—a science the effects of which are intended to bring about the healing of the sick. Today it is hardly realised that this relation of medicine to the other sciences, and to the whole field of knowledge, has come about only during the last three or four centuries. For the further back we go in human evolution the more do we find how everything that could be cultivated by man in the way of science, of knowledge, was considered to be more or less of a medical nature—as having to do with healing. And when we look back to those olden times, particularly to the development then of occult science, we see that with the concept of this occult science, of this body of knowledge, there is always bound up the concept of healing. In any healing, spiritual science was always involved. Thus, at that time it could never have been said: Medicine is one science among many!—In those days when pure intellect was not thought to have any place in occult science it was said In all science, in all knowledge, we must search for what aims at healing the whole human being.—This thought arose in the soul when they spoke. But now the question necessarily comes up: What was there in those days to be healed? In this age of materialism a man is said to be ill when anything abnormal is noticed in him, either outwardly in his physical functioning or in his behaviour towards the material world. This material concept of illness is indeed, strictly speaking, a product of man's recent evolution, a product of the post-Grecian age. For in the. Greece of that time, where men were more awake and more receptive towards the world than those who came later, there still persisted the concept of illness—and of the tendency to illness—which prevailed in all ages up to the last two or three centuries B.C. Such matters as these have to be somewhat emphasised in order to be understood and perceived in their real significance. In those olden days people were convinced that all human beings permanently carried within them the seeds of illness. That in reality everyone went about the world with the predisposition to illness, was the prevailing conception. All men needed help at least in warding off illness; they needed healing the whole time—such was the opinion. Perhaps those things can be better understood if this notion of them is compared with one we come across a good deal, particularly now in connection with our social affairs and social demands. Many people today consider themselves called upon to make a stir about what is necessary in social, or other matters, for the future betterment of mankind. What conditions would be were their ideas to be carried out, they picture as a paradise on earth indeed, the realisation of certain ideas is even said to mean the dawn of the millennium. Certainly this may be well meant, though it has its roots in poor understanding and still poorer intelligence. But it may have the effect of merely exciting people in the agitator's way. For what could have a more powerful effect of this kind, particularly in a materialistic age, than the promise of a paradise on earthy And if besides they are told it will happen before they die, it is highly probable they will support anyone making the promise. Compared with that, anything like the idea of the “Threefold Commonwealth” appears hard indeed, for it does not speak of a paradise on earth but of a social organism in keeping with life—an organism which can really live. Over against the conception which includes this possible paradise on earth, and is supposed capable of bringing men health by putting their ideals into effect merely through improving conditions on the physical plane—over against this way of thinking lies another. This other way of thinking, which held good in ancient times and had a quite different shade of feeling, I was trying to describe when I said: All human beings, in so far as they live and work on the physical plane, are to a certain extent hampered by the pre-disposition to sickness, and need constant healing. This conception is founded on what might be expressed thus—that here in the physical world a man is able to deal with the organisations necessary on the physical plane—with his domestic affairs; his rights and so on. But when all this is carried out through his own power alone, when nothing plays a part which has not to do with external institutions, the physical organism of man becomes more and more unhealthy. Ordinary measures are then quite unable to promote a sound social organism but only one that becomes weaker and weaker. For this to be avoided it is necessary for spiritual life to run side-by-side with the measures taken for the physical world. Then this spiritual life has the effect of paralysing the germs of sickness always being produced in men. All knowledge was worthless for mankind—so it was thought which did not tend to counteract the poison constantly forming in the social organism. The process of cognition is a healing process. It was considered in those olden days that, were knowledge at fault in any particular epoch, the social organism would become sick. Hence, from the first, cognitional power was recognised as a healing force; only in the course of time did the doctor, the teacher, the priest become separate individuals, independent of a leader with knowledge of the Mysteries who was also responsible for the ordering of society as well as being doctor, teacher, priest and so on, All these faculties were originally combined in one man possessing the knowledge which, owing to its particular character, acted as a healing factor for mankind. Later only were they to be differentiated. At that period of human evolution, too, far less attention was paid to individual illness than is the case today. Certainly opinions were formed about individual cases, but they were not told to the patient for fear of hurting his feelings and horrifying him. On the other hand, the measures taken, drawn as far as possible out of the deep sources of knowledge, were considered a social cure. Such a conception, it is true, could prevail in its fullness only at a time when a man's attitude to himself was quite different from what it is today. We have frequently spoken of how the intellectualism, that now takes such a prominent place in the acquiring of knowledge, is really, in its present form, only three or four hundred years old. This intellectualism, which sees its ideal in the natural laws perceived through abstract concepts, has little to do with the human personality, I have often described what effect this has. Picture anyone studying science today, any branch of science, in one of the usual centres of learning in the civilised world. The student site there listening to the lecturer only with his head, with his understanding, his intellect; and he watches experiments being made. In all this very little part is taken by his soul, his heart, his being as a whole. It was very different in the old Mysteries when there was no question of remaining aloof. All that worked on the head, on the intellect, at the same time affected the entire man, laying hold of his heart, soul and will, so that his whole being could participate. By thinking in the abstract, by the abstract investigation of nature, our very life has become abstract, so much so that today a man hardly possesses the organ capable of seeing rightly what once was bound up with the whole social life of mankind. We have often spoken hero about what in past ages of Judaism was called the “fearful, the inexpressible, name of God”, which eventually found utterance in the word “Jahve.” Why did the name inspire fear? It was because through the very power of the sound, the everyday mood of the one who uttered it, his everyday consciousness, was obliterated and another world arose before him. Because it necessitated the withdrawal of the ordinary consciousness, utterance of the word was dangerous. A man actually felt that when this name vibrated through him he was wafted to another world, where everything was different from the physical world,—This is a mood of soul of which people no longer have, nor can have, any notion. For today, a combination of sounds has no such shattering effect. All this has to do with the constitution of man's soul and body from which in those times there was more to draw upon than there is now Today the organic plays the greater part—hunger, thirst, various emotions, desires, the promptings of heart and soul, sympathies and antipathies. All that arises in this way out of man's organisation is, strictly speaking, part of him as an individual—an individual human ego. In the case of the men of old, in addition to hunger, thirst, and the desires of ordinary life, revelations of the divine arose. They felt in what had to do in this way with their own bodily nature and with their own soul, the presence of God. Who worked in them as well as in nature. What arose in these men of olden times made them capable of seeing in surrounding nature not what we see today but the spiritual. Present-day man is not disposed to allow that the very faculty of perception in those earlier days was different from what it is in man today. One can certainly understand this prejudice, this assumption that the world was always seen in the way we see it today. For those who want proof in such matters, however, even external facts show clearly that the Greeks themselves—so we need not go far back in man's evolution—saw surrounding nature differently from how we do. To spiritual science with its spiritual vision this is perfectly clear, but the knowledge, thus brought to the surface so vividly through spiritual vision, can be arrived at also through physical facts, if we look, for instance, in Greek literature and notice the use of the Greek word chloros. By this they meant green, but curiously enough they used the same word for golden honey and the golden leaves in autumn; it was also applied to the gold of resin. And the Greeks had a word to describe the darkness of hair, which they used as well when speaking of lapis lazuli, that blue stone. No-one can assume the Greeks had blue hair;. So there is ample proof of such things, from which it can be seen that, as a people, the Greeks were simply incapable of distinguishing yellow from green, and that they did not perceive blue as the colour we do but saw everything tinged with the vividness of red or gold. We find all this confirmed by a Roman writer who speaks of how the Greek painters only used four colours—black, white, red, yellow. Judging from our present theory of colour we must say: The Greeks were essentially blind to the colour blue; they did not see the blue in green but only the yellow. The surrounding world had, for them, a much more fiery aspect, for they saw it all with a reddish tinge. The metamorphoses of human evolution thus affect even the way in which a man sees, and as we have said this is capable of external proof. To spiritual vision it is perfectly clear that the whole colour-spectrum of the Greeks was on the red side—that they had little feeling for the blue and violet. For them the violet was much redder than we see it. Were we, according to our present visual conception, to paint the landscape as a Greek saw it, we should have to use quite different colours from those we ordinarily do. They had no knowledge of what we see as nature, and the nature they saw is an unknown world to us. The evolution of mankind progresses indeed by metamorphoses. The point is that the time when intellectualism arose and men became inclined to meditation—the Greeks had little inclination that way—they lived objectively in the world of nature—was the time when a feeling was acquired for the dark colours, the blue, the blue-violet. It was not only the inner nature of the soul that was changed, but also what passed over fror the soul into the senses. You can therefore say that today, in this fifth postAtlantean period, we are indeed different men in our sense-faculties from the characteristic men of the fourth period, the Greco-Latin people. This is all connected with what has been said before. During the time when spiritual forces still arose from the emotions, from sympathies and antipathies, even from the body in its hunger, thirst, its satiation, these spiritual forces poured into the sense-organs. And these spiritual forces, streaming up from the lower bodily nature to pour themselves into the sense-organs, are those which play the chief part for the eyes in giving life to the various shades of yellow and red, enabling these colours to be perceived. The time has now come when the reverse is the most important task for mankind. The Greeks were still organised in such a way that their beautiful world-concep tion was mediated through their senses, into which flowed their organic life permeated by spirit. In the course of centuries this spirit-filled organic life has been suppressed by men. Out of our soul, out of our spirit, we must infuse it with fresh life; we must acquire the faculty for making our way into soul and spirit—as spiritual science enables us to do. But acquiring this faculty through spiritual science we shall take the opposite direction. In the case of the Greeks the streams came from the body to pour into the eye (see red in diagram I); the reverse must take place with us; we have so to develop soul and spirit that the streams (see blue in diagram I) from the soul and spirit reach the human organisation; and we must receive these streams in the other senses as well as in the eye. The way for mankind in future must be in the reverse direction to that of the middle of the fourth post-Atlantean culture-epoch. Then the reflective man will once again become a knower of the spirit, but in another form, because of what comes to him from above. We have grown to be sensitive to the blue side of the spectrum. If I wanted to make a diagram L should have to draw it in the following way: The Greek was susceptible to red, lived in red and was familiar with the red part of the spectrum (see left of diagram II). We, however, must grow more and more accustomed to this part (see right of diagram II). But by doing so, and in that we find blue and blue-violet increasingly attractive, our sense-organs have necessarily to undergo change, The sense-organs must become quite different in their finer structure from how they were. What then gradually pours into the sense-organs in a natural way, develops through the eye, for example. Imagination; through the ear. Inspiration; through the sense of warmth, Intuition. Thus there must be developed:
In the course of human evolution the finer structure of manes organisation goes through a metamorphosis, becomes different. People today must be awake to such things, for they are standing at a momentous cross-roads; it is indeed a time when it has to be decided whether they can take the way enabling them to receive impressions from above. Pure intellectualism does not suffice; we must permeate intellectualism with spirit and soul. Then what develops within us as spirit and soul will work into the human organisation. But what if we do not develop it? When any organ is destined for a purpose for which it is not used, it perishes—is killed. There you have in the human organism itself what a past age, out of the assumptions of the time, accepted for the evolution of mankind. Just consider your eyes—into those eyes must be poured what should stream from above as spiritual life into the people of the future. Should this not come about, the eyes are doomed to suffer. Through their very nature they must deteriorate; and it is the same in the case of the ears, the same with the sense of warmth, What kind of knowledge then must we look for? A knowledge that will heal our organism of its tendency to sickness. We have to find our way back to perceiving that all knowledge—in so far as it is connected with man should be of a healing nature. We must return to the concept that we have to seek knowledge for this healing virtue, that medicine is not just one science among others, but that in the process of human evolution all knowledge must be a healing factors. This is because human beings all the time need that what arises in them on the physical plane should be healed. The man who promises an earthly paradise is not speaking rightly; he alone tells the truth who makes it clear: When everything has been done to establish good earthly conditions, a man has still to seek his connection with the spiritual world. For even the best conditions on earth need perpetual healing—healing that penetrates right into the human organism, as this, too, is always prone to sickness. In so many words: There must be a spiritual life in men with power to form healing forces out of itself. Among the many grounds, which, out of the anthroposophical world-conception, have contributed to giving life to the idea of the “threefold” are those you may gather from what I have been saying today. For this idea of the “threefold” is such that, look where you will in man's present evolution provided you can observe in the right way—the need for this membering into three is manifest to those who have a faculty for seeking the truth. Those with a little logic who, hearing about this “threefold” idea cannot immediately grasp it, or perhaps find it at variance with some other idea, should wait till they learn more about it. Then they will see that there is not just one proof nor one source alone for proving the necessity for the “threefold”, but that these are numberless. For wherever you look you find instances bearing independent witness to what I might describe as the present necessity for spreading this idea of the “threefold” in our social organism. And one of the most important spheres of all lies in the knowledge and understanding of the being of man himself. But where do we find science—so proud of its abstraction—turning its attention to the concrete?—The Greeks were still distinctly conscious that when they gave rein to their feelings the divine revealed itself to them. And we must acquire the faculty for bringing down spiritual forces of the soul from the spiritual heights; they must reveal nature to us, show us what nature is In other words we must grow to realise that we cannot learn to know nature by perceiving it outwardly, but only with sense-organs strengthened by what comes from above—with an eye made keen by Imagination, an ear sharpened through Inspiration, and a sense of warmth through Intuition—that is to say, through selfless experience of the things and processes surrounding us.
What we look upon as science today, showing such veneration for its authority, is only an intermediate state: which state, however, is leading in the social sphere to the most terrible conflict. We shall continue on this theme tomorrow. |
214. The Mystery of the Trinity: The Mystery of Truth III
29 Jul 1922, Dornach Tr. James H. Hindes Rudolf Steiner |
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He did so in the pictures and imagery in his Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily.26 In all the figures in this fairy tale we are to see powers of the soul working together to impart to man his true dignity, in freedom. |
You see, his description of the sense images in the Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily. are wonderfully beautiful, yet it cannot be said that the final freeing of the crippled prince is intuitively obvious and real; it is only symbolically real. |
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily, (Blauvelt, NY: Steinerbooks, 1979).27. |
214. The Mystery of the Trinity: The Mystery of Truth III
29 Jul 1922, Dornach Tr. James H. Hindes Rudolf Steiner |
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Yesterday I tried to show you how a simple way can be found to envisage the human being's relationships to the cosmos in terms of body, soul, and spirit. Through the way in which I concluded yesterday's lecture by building up to certain imaginative pictures, I wanted to draw attention to certain things. I wanted to show how in such an imaginative picture as that of Christ as the Lamb of God, inspired Imaginations are truly and correctly expressed. I wanted to show that in the times when such pictures were formed, when indeed they were voiced with complete understanding and used for the life of the human soul, a real consciousness was present of how the human being works upward from his ordinary consciousness to conscious experiences in his soul, experiences that connect him to the spiritual world. I have drawn your attention to the fact that in the first four Christian centuries what we could call the Christian teaching still carried the impression that it was everywhere based on a real perception of the spiritual, that even the secrets of Christianity were presented as they could actually be seen by those who had developed their soul life to a vision of the spiritual. After the fourth century A.D., understanding of direct expressions of the spiritual faded away from ordinary consciousness more and more. And with contact between the Germanic peoples from the north and the Latin and Greek peoples of the south during those early days of growth for Western culture we see how these difficulties of understanding constantly increased. We must be fully aware that in the times immediately following the fourth century, people still looked with reverent devotion at those imaginations from earlier times in which Christian views were presented. Tradition was revered, and so too were the pictures that had come down to posterity through tradition. But the progressing human spirit continued to take on new forms. Therefore, the human being was led to say: Yes, tradition has handed down to us pictures such as the dove for the Holy Spirit and the Lamb of God for Christ himself. But how are we to understand them? How do we come to understand them? And out of this impossibility, or rather, out of the faith that was born with the conviction of the impossibility of the human spirit's ever achieving perception of the spiritual worlds through its own powers, there arose the Scholastic doctrine that the human spirit can achieve knowledge of the sense world by its own power, can also reach conclusions directly derived from concepts of the sense world, but that the human being must simply accept as uncomprehended revelation what can be revealed to him of the super-sensible world. But this, I would like to say, twofold form of faith in the human soul life did not develop without difficulties. On the one hand there was knowledge limited to the earthly, while on the other hand there was knowledge of the super-sensible attainable only through faith or belief. Nevertheless, it was always felt, although more or less dimly, that the human being's relationship to super-sensible knowledge could not be the same as it was in olden times. Concerning this feeling, people said to themselves in the first period after the fourth century: In a certain sense the super-sensible world can still be reached by the human soul, but it is not given to all to develop their souls to such a height; most people have to be content with simply accepting many of the old revelations. As I said, people revered these old revelations so much that they did not wish to measure them against a standard of human knowledge that no longer reached up to them. At least, people did not believe that human knowledge was capable of rising to the level of revelation. The strict Scholastic doctrine concerning the division of human knowledge was actually only accepted gradually; indeed it was not until the tenth, eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries of the Middle Ages that this Scholastic tenet was fully admitted. Until that time there was still a certain wavering in peoples' minds: Could it be possible after all to raise this knowledge, which human beings could achieve at this late date, up to the level of what belongs to the super-sensible world? The triumph of the Scholastic view meant that, in comparison with earlier times, a mighty revolution had taken place. You see, in earlier times, say, in the very first Christian centuries, if someone had struggled through to Christianity and then approached the mystery of divine providence, or the mystery of the transubstantiation of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, he would have said: This is difficult to understand, but there are people who can develop their souls so that they understand these things. He would have said: If I assume the omniscience of the Godhead, then this omniscient being must actually also know whether one human being is damned for all time or whether another will enter into blessedness. But this—such a person might have said—hardly seems to agree with the fact that people need not, inevitably, sin. And that if they sin they will then be damned; that if they do not sin they will not be damned; that no one will be damned if they do penance for a sin. One must say, therefore, that a person, through the way he or she conducts their life, can either make themselves into one of the damned through sin or into one of the blessed through sinlessness. But again, an omniscient God must already know whether an individual is destined for damnation or blessedness. Such would have been the considerations of someone so confronted in the earliest Christian centuries. However, in these early Christian centuries that person would not have said: Therefore I must argue whether God foresees the damnation or the blessedness of a human being. He or she would rather have said: If I were initiated I would be able to understand that although an individual may or may not sin, God knows nevertheless who will be damned and who will be blessed. Thus would someone living in the first centuries of Christendom have spoken. Similarly, if someone had told that person that through transubstantiation, through the celebration of the Eucharist, bread and wine are transformed into the body and blood of Christ, he would have said: I don't understand that but if I were initiated I would. For in olden times a person would have thought: What can be observed in the sense world are mere appearances; it is not reality: the reality lies behind, in the spiritual world. As long as one stands in the sense world, in this world of illusions, it is a contradiction to say that someone can either sin or not sin and that the omniscient God nevertheless knows in advance whether an individual will be damned or blessed. But as soon as someone enters the spiritual world it is no longer a contradiction. There one experiences how it can be that God, nevertheless, sees ahead. In the same way, a person would have said: In the physical world of sense it is contradictory to say that bread and wine—which in outward appearance remain the same—become the body and blood of Christ after the transubstantiation. But when we are initiated we will understand this, because then, in our soul lives we are within the spiritual world. Thus would people have spoken in olden times. And then came the struggles in human souls. On the one hand the souls of human beings found themselves more and more separated, torn away from the spiritual world. The whole trend of culture was to grant authority to reason alone, and reason, of course, did not reach into the spiritual world. And out of these struggles developed all kinds of uncertainties concerning the super-sensible worlds. If we study the symptoms of history we can find the points at which such uncertainties enter the world quite starkly. I have often spoken of the Scottish monk Scotus Eriugena, who lived in France at the court of Charles the Bald during the ninth century.19 At court he was regarded as a veritable miracle of wisdom. Charles the Bald, and all those who thought as he did, turned to Scotus Eriugena in all matters of religion and also of science whenever they wanted a verdict. Now the way in which Scotus Eriugena stood opposed to the other monks of his time shows how fiercely the battle was then raging between reason, which felt itself limited to the world of sense, along with a few conclusions derived from that world, and the traditions that had been handed down from the spiritual world in the form of dogmas. Thus in the ninth century we see two personalities confronting one another: Scotus Eriugena and the monk Gottschalk,20 who uncompromisingly asserted the doctrine that God has perfect foreknowledge of an individual's future damnation or blessedness. This teaching was gradually embodied in the formula: God has destined one portion of humanity for blessedness and another for damnation. The doctrine was formulated as Augustine himself had formulated it. Following his teaching of predestination, one part of humanity is destined for blessedness, another part for damnation.21 And the monk Gottschalk taught that it is indeed so: God has destined one portion of the human race for blessedness and another for damnation, but no portion is predestined for sin. Thus, for external understanding, Gottschalk was teaching a contradiction. In the ninth century the strife was extraordinarily fierce. At a synod in Mainz, for instance, Gottschalk's writing was declared heretical, and he was scourged because of this teaching. However, although Gottschalk had been scourged and imprisoned on account of this doctrine he was able to claim that he had no other desire than to reaffirm the teaching of Augustine in its genuine form. Many French bishops and monks, in particular, realized that Gottschalk was not teaching anything other than what Augustine had already taught. And so a monk such as Gottschalk stood before the people of his time teaching from the traditions of the old mystery knowledge. However, those who now wished to understand everything with the dawning intellect were simply unable to understand and therefore contested his teaching. But there were others who adhered more to reverence for the old and were decidedly on the side of a theologian like Gottschalk. It is extremely difficult for people today to understand that things like this could be the subject of bitter strife. When such teachings did not please parties with authority their author was publicly scourged and imprisoned even though he might be, and in this case was, eventually vindicated. For it was precisely the orthodox believers who ranged themselves on the side of Gottschalk, and his teaching remained the orthodox Catholic doctrine. Charles the Bald, because of his relationship to Scotus Eriugena, naturally turned to him for a verdict. Scotus Eriugena did not decide for Gottschalk's teaching but as follows: The Godhead is to be found in the evolution of mankind; evil can actually only appear to have existence—otherwise evil, too, would have to be found in God. Since God can only be the Good, evil must be a nothing; but a nothing cannot be anything with which human beings can be united. So Scotus Eriugena spoke out against the teaching of Gottschalk. But the teaching of Scotus Eriugena, which was more or less the same as that of pantheists today, was in turn condemned by the orthodox Church and his writings were only later rediscovered. Everything reminiscent of his teaching was burned and he came to be regarded as the real heretic. When he made known the views he had explained to Charles the Bald, the adherents of Gottschalk—who were now again respected—declared: Scotus Eriugena is actually only a babbler who adorns himself with every kind of ornament of external science and who actually knows nothing at all about the inner mysteries of the super-sensible. Another theologian wrote about the body and blood of Christ in De Corpore et Sanguine Domini.22 In this writing he said something that, for the initiates of old, had been an understandable teaching: that in actual fact bread and wine can be changed into the real body and the real blood of Christ. This writing, too, was laid before Charles the Bald. Scotus Eriugena did not write an actual refutation but in his works we have many a hint of the decision he reached, namely, that this, the orthodox Catholic teaching of the transubstantiation of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ, must be modified because it is not understandable to the human mind. This was how Scotus Eriugena was able to express himself, even in his day. In short, the conflict concerning the human soul's relationship to the super-sensible world raged fiercely in the ninth century, and it was exceedingly difficult for serious minds of that time to find their bearings. For Christian dogmas contained everywhere deposits, as it were, of ancient truths of initiation, but people were powerless to understand them. What had been uttered in external words was put to the test. These words could only have been intelligible to a soul that had developed itself up into the spiritual world. The external words were tested against that of which people at that time had become conscious as a result of the development of human reason. And the most intense battles ensued within the Christian life of Europe from the testing of that time. And where were these inner experiences leading? They were tending in the direction of a duality entirely absent in former times. In earlier times the human being looked into the sense world and, as he looked, his faculties enabled him simultaneously to behold the spiritual pervading the phenomena of this sense world. He saw the spiritual along with the phenomena of the world of sense. The people of olden times certainly did not see bread and wine in the same way people in the ninth century A.D. saw them, that is, as being merely matter. In ancient times the material and spiritual were seen together. So, too, the people in olden times didn't have concepts and ideas as intellectual as those already possessed by people living in the ninth century. The thinness and abstraction of the concepts and ideas in the ninth century were not present earlier. What people experienced earlier as ideas and concepts was still such that concepts and ideas were like real objects with essential being. Concepts and ideas in olden times were not thin and abstract, but full of living reality, of objective being. I have told you how subjects such as grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, arithmetic, geometry, music, and astrology gradually became entirely abstract. In olden times the human being's relationship to these sciences was such that as he lived into them, he entered into a relationship with real, actual beings. But already by the ninth century, and still more in later times, these sciences of grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, and so forth had become wholly thin and abstract without living content of being—almost, one might say, like mere pieces of clothing in comparison with what had formerly been present. And this process of abstraction continued. Abstraction increasingly became a quality of concepts and ideas while concrete reality increasingly became nothing more than the external sense world. These two streams, which we see in the ninth century, and which influenced men to fight such devastating soul battles—these two streams have persisted into modern times. In some instances we still experience their conflict sharply, in other instances the conflict receives less emphasis. These tendencies in the evolution of humanity stand with a living clarity in the contrast between Goethe and Schiller.23 Yesterday, I spoke about the fact that Goethe, having studied the botany of Linnaeus, was compelled to evolve really living concepts and pictures of the plants—concepts capable of change and metamorphosis, which, for this reason, came near to being Imaginations. But I also drew your attention to the fact that Goethe stumbled when his mind tried to rise from plant life to the animal world of sentient experience. He could reach Imagination but not Inspiration. He saw the external phenomena. With the minerals he had no cause to advance to Imagination; with plant life he did, but got no further because abstract concepts and ideas were not his strong point. Goethe did not philosophize in the manner customary in his day. Therefore, he was unable to express in abstract concepts what is found at a spiritual level higher than that of the plants. But Schiller philosophized. He even learned how to philosophize from Kant, although the Kantian way ultimately became too confused for him and he left it.24 Schiller philosophized without the degree of abstraction that prevents concepts from reaching actual being. And when we study Goethe and Schiller together this is precisely what we feel to be the fundamental opposition never really bridged between them, the opposition that was only smoothed over through the greatness of soul, the essential humanity that lived in both of them. However, this fundamental difference of approach showed itself in the last decade of the eighteenth century when Goethe and Schiller were both occupied with the question: How can the human being achieve an existence worthy of his dignity? Schiller set forth the question in his own way in the form of abstract thought, and he what he had to say about it appeared in his Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man. He says there: The human being is, on the one hand, subject to the necessity implicit in logic and reason. He has no freedom when he follows the necessity of reason. His freedom goes under in the necessity of reason. But neither is he free when he surrenders himself wholly to the senses, to the necessity implicit in the senses; in this sphere, instincts and natural urges coerce him and again he is not free. In both directions, actually, toward the spirit and toward nature, the human being becomes a slave, unfree. Schiller concludes that the human being can only become free when he views nature as if it were a living being, as if nature had spirit and soul within it—in other words, if he raises nature to a higher level. But then he must also bring the necessity implicit in reason right down into nature. He must, as it were, regard nature as if it had reason; but then the rigidity of necessity and logic vanish from reason. When a human being expresses himself in pictures he is giving form, creating, instead of logically analyzing and synthesizing; and as he creates in this way he removes from nature the element of necessity caused by the mere senses. But this achievement of freedom, said Schiller, can only be expressed in artistic creation and aesthetic appreciation. One who simply confronts nature passively is under the sway of the necessity implicit in nature, of instincts, natural desires, and urges. If he sets his mind to work he must follow the necessity implicit in logic—if he does not wish to be untrue to the human. When we combine the two, nature and logic, then the necessity implicit in reason subsides, then reason yields something of its necessity to the sense world and the sense world of nature yields something of its instinctual compulsion. And the human being is represented in works of sculpture, for instance, as if spirit itself were already contained in the sensible world. We lead the spirit down into the sensuality of material nature while leading the sensuality of material nature up to the spirit, and the creation through images, the beautiful, arises. Only while creating or appreciating the beautiful does the human being live in freedom. In writing these Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man, Schiller strove with all the power of his soul to find out when it is possible for a human being to be free. And the only possibility of realizing human freedom he found in the life of beautiful appearances. We must flee crude reality if we desire to be free, that is to say, if we wish to achieve an existence worthy of a human being. This is what Schiller really meant, though he may not have stated it explicitly. Only in appearance, in semblance, can freedom really be attained. Nietzsche, who was steeped in all these matters, nevertheless could not penetrate through to an actual perception of the spirit. In his first book, The Birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music,25 he wanted to show that the Greeks created art in order to have something through which, as free human beings in dignity, they might be able to rise above the reality presented by the external senses, the reality in which the human being can never achieve his true dignity. They raised themselves above the reality of things in order to achieve the possibility of freedom in appearances, in artistic appearances. Thus did Nietzsche interpret Greek culture. And here Nietzsche merely expressed, in a radical form, what was already contained in Schiller's letters on the aesthetic education of man. Therefore, we can say that Schiller lived in an abstract spirituality, but that at the same time there lived within him the impulse to grant the human being his true dignity. Just look at the sublimity, the greatness, of his letters on aesthetic education. They are worthy of the very highest admiration. In terms of poetic feeling, in terms of the power of soul, they are really greater than all his other works. When we think of the sum total of his achievements, these letters are the greatest of them all. But Schiller had to struggle with them from an abstract point of view, for he too had arrived at the intellectualism characterizing the spiritual life of the west. And from this standpoint he could not reach true reality. He could only reach the shining appearance of the beautiful. When Goethe read Schiller's letters on the aesthetic education of man it was not easy for him to find his way around in them. Goethe was actually not very adept at following the processes of abstract reasoning. But he, too, was concerned with the problem of how man can achieve true dignity, how spiritual beings must work together in order to give the human being dignity so that awakened to the spiritual world, he can live into it. Schiller could not emerge from the picture, or image, to the reality. What Schiller had said in his letters, Goethe also wanted to say, but in his own way. He did so in the pictures and imagery in his Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily.26 In all the figures in this fairy tale we are to see powers of the soul working together to impart to man his true dignity, in freedom. But Goethe was unable to find the way from what he had been able to express in Imaginations up to the truly spiritual. Hence, he got no further than the fairy tale, a picture, a kind of higher symbolism. It was, it is true, full of an extraordinary amount of life; still, it was only a kind of symbolism. Schiller formed abstract concepts, but remaining with appearance he could not get into reality. Goethe, trying to understand the human being in his freedom, created many pictures, vividly concrete pictures, but they could not get him into reality either. He remained stuck with mere descriptions of the world of sense. You see, his description of the sense images in the Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily. are wonderfully beautiful, yet it cannot be said that the final freeing of the crippled prince is intuitively obvious and real; it is only symbolically real. Neither of the two contrasting streams expressed in the personalities of Goethe and Schiller, could find a way into the real experience of the spiritual world. Both were striving from opposite sides to penetrate into the spiritual world, but could not get in. What was really going on? What I am going to say may seem strange. Nevertheless, those who approach these matters without psychological bias will have to agree with the following. Think of the two streams present in Scholasticism. For one, there is the knowledge from reason, creating its content out of the world of sense but not penetrating through to reality. This stream flows on through manifold forms, passing from one personality to another, also down to Schiller. Scholasticism held that one can only obtain ideas from the world of sense—and Schiller was drawn into this way of knowing. But Schiller was far too complete a human being to regard the sensuality of physical matter as compatible with true human dignity. Scholastic knowledge merely extracts ideas out of the world of sense. Schiller's solution was to let go of the world of sense so that only ideas remain. But with ideas alone he could not reach reality—he only reached beautiful appearances. He struggled with this problem: What should be done with this scholastic knowledge which man has produced out of himself, so that he can somehow be given his dignity? His answer was that one can no longer stay with reality, that one must take refuge in the beauty of appearances. Thus you see how the stream of scholastic knowledge from reason found its way to Schiller. Goethe did not care much for this kind of knowledge. Actually he was much more excited by knowledge as revelation. You may find this strange; nevertheless, it is true. And even if he did not adhere to those Catholic dogmas, the necessity of which became clear to him as he was trying to complete Faust, and express them artistically, even if he did not adhere to the Catholic dogmas of his youth, still he held to things pertaining to the super-sensible world at the level he was able to reach. To speak to Goethe of a faith—this, in a way, made him furious. When, in Goethe's youth, Jacobi spoke to him about belief, about faith, he replied: I keep to vision, to seeing.27 Goethe didn't want to hear anything about belief or faith. Those who claim him for any particular faith simply do not understand him at all. He was out to see, to behold. Furthermore, he was actually on the way from his Imaginations to Inspirations and Intuitions. In this way he could naturally never have become a theologian of the Middle Ages, but he could have become like an ancient seer of the divine, a seer of super-sensible worlds. He was certainly on the way, but was simply unable to ascend high enough. He only got far enough to see the super-sensible in the world of the plants. When he studied the plant world he was actually able to see the spiritual and the sensible next to one another as had the initiates in the ancient mysteries. But Goethe got no further than the plant world. What, then, was the only thing he could do? He could only apply to the whole world of the super-sensible the pictorial method, the symbolism, the imaginative contemplation which he had learned to apply to the plants. And so, when he spoke of the soul life in his fairy tale he was only able to achieve an imaginative presentation of the world. Whenever the Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily. mentions anything concerning plant life, anything that can be approached with Imaginations such as those developed by Goethe for the world of plants, then the writing is particularly beautiful. Just allow everything expressed in the style of Imaginations of the plant world in this fairy tale to work on you and you will feel a wonderful beauty. Actually, the rest of the fairy tale's contents also have a tendency to become plantlike. The central female figure, upon whom so much depends, he names Lily. Goethe does not manage to imbue her with real, potent life; he manages only to give her a kind of plant existence. And if you look at all the figures appearing in the fairy tale, actually they all lead a kind of plant existence. Where it becomes necessary to raise them to a higher level, they become mere symbols, and their existence is mere appearance at that level. The kings that appear in the fairy tale aren't properly real either. They, too, only manage to achieve a plantlike existence; they only claim to have another kind of life as well. Something would have to be in-spired into the golden king, the silver king, and the bronze king before they could really live in the spiritual world. Thus Goethe lived out a life of knowledge as revelation, as super-sensible knowledge, which he has only mastered up to a certain level. Schiller lived out the other kind of knowledge, knowledge as reason, which was developed by Scholasticism. But he could not bear this knowledge because he wanted to follow it into reality and it could only lead him as far as the reality of the beauty in appearances. One can say that the inner truth of the two personalities made them so upright that neither one said more than he was truly able to say. Thus Goethe depicts the life of the soul as if it were a kind of vegetation, and Schiller portrays the free individual as if a free human being could only live aesthetically. An aesthetic society—that, as the social challenge, is what Schiller brings forward at the end of the letters on the aesthetic education of man. If the human being is to become free, says Schiller, let him so live that society manifests itself as beauty. In Goethe's relationship to Schiller we see how these streams live on. What they would have needed was the ascent from Imagination to Inspiration in Goethe, and the enlivening of abstract concepts with the imaginative world in Schiller. Only then could they have completely come together. If you look into the souls of both of them you would have to say that both possessed qualities which could lead them into a world of spirit. Goethe struggled constantly with what he called “religious inclinations” or “piety.” Schiller, when asked, “To which of the existing religions do you confess?” said “To none.” And when he was asked why, he replied—“For religious reasons!”28 As the super-sensible world flows into the human soul from knowledge that is actually experienced, we see how, especially for enlightened spirits, religion itself also flows into the soul. Thus religion will once again have to be attained—through the transformation of the merely intellectual knowledge of today into spiritual knowledge.
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350. Rhythms in the Cosmos and in the Human Being: The Effects of Light and Color in Earthen Materials are Reflected in the Heavenly Bodies
09 Jun 1923, Dornach Tr. Automated Rudolf Steiner |
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The rainbow has a red band, then it turns orange and yellow, then the band turns green, then blue, then the band turns a little darker blue, indigo blue and then the band turns violet. |
Now I don't see a white body, but I see the seven colors of the rainbow, the seven consecutive colors red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. So through the prism I see what is actually white, what is incandescent, in seven colors. |
You will say: when I look through Bee there, I see red, orange, yellow, green and so on. There is yellow there too, you will say. So when I look through it, the yellow will be particularly strong here, you will say, it will be an especially bright yellow, a very luminous yellow. |
350. Rhythms in the Cosmos and in the Human Being: The Effects of Light and Color in Earthen Materials are Reflected in the Heavenly Bodies
09 Jun 1923, Dornach Tr. Automated Rudolf Steiner |
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Well, gentlemen, what have you decided? Question: The various chemical substances have the property of giving certain colors to a flame, for example. On the other hand, many stars also have a color shimmer, like Mars. I would like to know more about this. For example, Mars has a reddish shimmer. Iron, when it oxidizes, rust, also has a reddish color. Are there any connections here? Dr. Steiner: That is, of course, a very difficult question. First of all, we need to recall what we have already discussed about colours. We have already discussed various aspects of colours. You have to bear in mind that the colour of a body is connected with the whole way in which it is situated in the world. So let us imagine we have some kind of substance. This substance has a very specific colour. Now do you think that this color can possibly express itself quite differently when you bring this substance to the flame, so that you then get a certain coloration of the flame? You must realize that, when the flame arises by itself, the flame already has a certain color and that when we bring a substance into the flame, two colors interact: that of the substance and that of the flame. But there is something very peculiar about the way colors relate to each other in the world. I will tell you something about that now. You know the usual rainbow. The rainbow has a red band, then it turns orange and yellow, then the band turns green, then blue, then the band turns a little darker blue, indigo blue and then the band turns violet. This is how we get a number of seven colors that the rainbow itself has (see drawing). Of course, people have always observed these seven colors and explained them in a variety of ways, because the seven colors that you get from a rainbow are actually the most beautiful colors that you can see in nature. And besides, you must know that these colors are as if they were floating freely. They arise, as you know, when it is raining somewhere when the sun is shining. Then the rainbow appears on the other side of the sky. So when you see a rainbow somewhere, you have to ask yourself: where is the weather? Yes, on the opposite side, away from the rain, the sun must be. That is how it should be. That is how the seven colors of the rainbow come about. But these seven colors also occur in a different way. Imagine that we burn a metal-like body, heating it more and more, so that it becomes very hot. Then this metal-like body first, as you know, becomes red-hot, and finally white-hot, as they say. So imagine that we have created a kind of flame by what I might call actually a metal flame. But it is not an actual flame, it is a glowing metal, a metal that glows all over. If you now look at such a metal, which glows all over, through a so-called prism, you do not see a white-hot mass, but you see the same seven colors as in the rainbow. I will now draw a schematic diagram (see page 72). Imagine that there is this glowing metal, and now I have a prism like this. You know what a prism is. It is drawn here from the side, as a triangular glass. There is my eye. Now I look through it. Now I don't see a white body, but I see the seven colors of the rainbow, the seven consecutive colors red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. So through the prism I see what is actually white, what is incandescent, in seven colors. From this you can see that what is incandescent can be seen shimmering in the colors of the rainbow. Now, there is something else that can be done that is extremely interesting. You see, such a white-hot mass can only be produced when a metal, a solid body, is made to glow. But if I have a gas and burn the gas, then when I look through a prism, I don't get the seven colors, I don't get such a seven-color band, but something completely different. You may ask how you can get a glowing gas. Yes, it is very easy to get a glowing gas. Imagine, for example, that I have ordinary table salt. There are two substances in ordinary table salt: first, a metal-like substance called sodium, and then there is chlorine. This is a gas that, when spread out somewhere, when it is somewhere, immediately hisses sharply into the nose. It is the same gas that is used, for example, to bleach laundry. The laundry items are bleached by letting chlorine brush over them. So when you have sodium and chlorine together as one body, it is our common table salt, which we use to salt our food. If you take away the chlorine and put the sodium, which is then whitish, into a flame, the flame turns completely yellow. Why is that? Yes, gentlemen, that is because the sodium, when the flame is hot enough, turns into a gas, and then the sodium gas burns yellow, gives a yellow flame. So now we not only have a really glowing metal body, but we also have a gaseous flame. If I now look at this through my prism, it does not become seven-colored in the same way, but essentially remains yellow. Only on one side – and here you have to look very, very sharply – you see something bluish and something reddish. But on the whole you don't really notice that; you only see the yellow. But that is not the interesting thing yet. The most interesting thing is this: if I set up the whole story here, enter the yellow flame here (see drawing on page 72) and now look through plate s my prism again, what will you say? You will say: when I look through Bee there, I see red, orange, yellow, green and so on. There is yellow there too, you will say. So when I look through it, the yellow will be particularly strong here, you will say, it will be an especially bright yellow, a very luminous yellow. Yes, you see, that is not the case. What is there is that no yellow appears at all, that the yellow is completely eliminated, erased, and there is a black spot. Just as there can be a yellow gas flame, there is also, for example, a blue one. You can also find substances, such as lithium, that have a red flame. Potassium and similar ones have a blue flame. If you now put a blue flame in here, for example, it is not the case that the blue appears stronger here, but again there is a black spot here. The strange thing is this: when you make something glowing, when something glows as a solid and is not gas, but glows, then you get this color band of seven colors. But if you only have a burning gas, then you get more or less a single color, and this single color then extinguishes that in the whole color band, which it itself has as a color. What I am going to tell you now is something that people have only known for a relatively short time, having only been discovered in 1859. It was only in 1859 that it was discovered that in a seven-color band emanating from a glowing solid body, individual colors originating from glowing gases or burning gases extinguish the corresponding colors. From this you can already see how extraordinarily complicated one color affects another. And this is why, when you look at the sun, it appears as if it were a white-hot body. It is right that way: if you look superficially through a prism, you also see these seven successive colors in the sun: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. But if you look more closely, then in the sun, in the solar disc, there are not these seven colors, but only approximations of the seven colors, and in between there are nothing but black lines, a whole lot of black lines. So if you look closely at the sun, you don't have a seven-color band, but you have the seven colors, but they are interrupted everywhere by nothing but black lines. What do you have to say to yourself then? When you don't see the right, uninterrupted band of colors from the sun, but rather a band of colors interrupted by black lines, well, you have to say: Between us and the sun are nothing but burning gases that are always extinguishing the corresponding colors as they pass by. So when I look at the sun instead of at a glowing metal and see the black lines, I have to say to myself wherever I see the black lines: there, in other words always at the respective point, the yellow is being extinguished, for example here by sodium. When I look at the sun and see a black line in the yellow, I have to say: between me and the sun is sodium. And so I see black lines in the sunlight for all metals. So between me and the sun, all kinds of metals are spread out in space in gaseous form. What can we conclude from this? Gentlemen, we can conclude that space, at least the area surrounding the Earth, is filled with nothing but not just glowing, but burning metals. When you consider that, then you have to realize that basically we cannot speak of the earth standing there and the glowing sun being up there, but what we see actually depends on what is between us and the sun, and the physicists would be very surprised if they could actually get into the sun, because it would not look as they assume it to be, but what one sees actually comes from what is between man and the sun. So you can see from this example how complicated the connection between substances and colors actually is. So if you have a flame somewhere, and the flame, say a candle flame, has a certain coloration, you first have to ask: Well, what is inside the candle? In the flame, you have those substances in a gaseous state – they usually become gaseous due to the heat of the flame – that are inside the candle in a solid state. If we then look through a prism, as I have done here with the flame: a substance that is gaseous colors the entire flame. For example, the flame turns yellow due to the sodium. If you had a flame somewhere, for example in this room, and then looked at it through a prism, you would see the sodium blackness almost everywhere. You don't even need to add the sodium somehow. If the apparatus are arranged very precisely so that you can see correctly, you will find these black lines everywhere, which should actually be yellow and which basically come from the fact that there are tiny traces of sodium everywhere. There is hardly anything on earth that does not have small traces of sodium. But this proves that sodium is absolutely necessary in nature. Where it is not, we could not live. We also have to have a certain amount, a certain amount of sodium in us at all times, and we have to process the sodium. And it only betrays itself by the fact that it erases the yellow lines everywhere and makes them black. Now, you have to remember what I told you before: what causes blue and violet colors? What causes red and yellow? - Well, I told you that blue appears in the vastness of space, because out there, where we see the firmament, there is nothing. It is the vast, black space of the universe. So we see the vast black space of the universe. But we do not see it just by looking out in front of us. Between us and this wide black space are the water vapors that are constantly rising. Even when the air is clear, water vapors are constantly in the air. If the Earth is here (he draws a picture), the water vapour is here and the black space is all around, then the sun shines through these vapours. If you were standing down there and looking up, you would not see black, but blue. Through the illuminated you now see the dark space in a blue colour. That means that when I see something dark or gloomy through something illuminated, I see it in blue. The dawn and dusk are, as you know, yellowish or yellowish-reddish. When the Earth is here (it is drawn), since the vapors are all around and now the sun is coming up here, I see it illuminated. I see a bright spot here, but I see it first through the dark vapors. This makes it yellow for me. When I see a bright color through a dark color, it turns yellow. When I see a dark color through a bright color, it turns blue. Blue is the darkness seen through a bright color, yellow is the brightness seen through a dark color. That's understandable! If I now have the yellow through the yellow sodium flame, then this yellow sodium flame means that the sodium is a substance that, when it evaporates, becomes bright but at the same time produces something dark around it. So the sodium actually burns like this: when the sodium burns here, the white light shoots up in the middle (diagram, left) and all around it, darkness shoots up, and that's why I see the whole thing yellow. So the sodium radiates light, but all around it, because it radiates light so strongly, it creates darkness. You should not be surprised that the strongly luminous sodium produces darkness around itself, because if you are a fas t runner and run quite fast and someone else wants to keep up with you, he will just fall behind. That which splashes out is just a fast runner; it therefore appears luminous through the darkness, it appears yellow to me. With an ordinary candle flame, the particles scatter in such a way that it becomes bright around the edges and dark in the middle. Therefore, if you have an ordinary candle flame, you see the dark through the light. Here the bright dots splash (see drawing, right). Here in the middle it remains dark and therefore appears blue. So if you have a yellow flame, as you do with sodium, it means that it splashes extremely strongly. If you have a blue flame, it means that it does not actually splash strongly, but rather splinters. This is the fundamental difference between the effects of the substances in the world. Imagine I have a glass tube here; I melt both ends of it. Now, however, I also pump out the air so that I get a completely airless glass tube. Now I do the following: I introduce an electric current here, which ends there, and here [on the other side] too; this is a current that is then closed here. So now the two poles of electricity are facing each other. Between them is the vacuum. Now something very strange happens: on one side electricity is spurting out and on the other side, where it appears bluish, such waves are forming (see drawing on page 78), and these then merge. There, so to speak, the light continuously splashes into the dark, the light electricity into the dark. So you have the two flames that I showed you separately. You have them on one pole of the electricity and that one on the other pole. What the sodium flame does is done here on one side, what the ordinary candle flame does is done on the other. If you proceed in the right way, you get different types of rays here, including X-rays, which, as you know, can be used to see solid components, bones and so on, or foreign components that the body has within itself. So the thing is that there are substances in the world that radiate. There are other substances that do not radiate, but, one can say, that glow and cover themselves on the surface with such waves. The substances that cover themselves on the surface with such waves are bluish; the substances that radiate are yellowish. If a dark body then comes before the yellowish, the yellowish becomes reddish. So if you make the yellowish darker again, it can become reddish. So you see, gentlemen, we have bodies in the world that partly radiate and thus show the light colors that are on one side of the rainbow, and that on the other hand do not radiate, but send out such waves. This is how you get the bluish colors that are on the other side of the rainbow. If you know this, then you will say to yourself: There are such stars as, for example, Mars, which radiates yellowish-reddish, or as, for example, Saturn, which radiates bluish. Now you can see from the nature of the star how it behaves. Mars is simply a star that radiates a lot, so it must appear yellowish-reddish. It is a star that radiates a lot. Saturn is a body that behaves more calmly and is covered with waves. You can almost see the waves around it. If you have Saturn, you can still see the waves around it as rings. It appears blue because it is surrounded by waves. Now, what we observe on the earth's bodies shows us, if we observe them correctly and not indifferently, how the bodies are out in space. But we must be clear about the fact that all of space is filled, as I have told you, with all possible substances, which are always actually in a combustible state. Now take a body, for example iron: it rusts. That is what you meant by your question, isn't it? Iron rusts, and that makes it redder than it otherwise is. So we have a body that is relatively dark, that rusts and that becomes reddish as a result. Now that we have studied colors, we will be able to provide information about what that actually means: iron becomes reddish when it rusts, that is, when it is constantly exposed to the air. Let's make it very clear to ourselves what that means. Of course I don't have all the colors here, but you can probably imagine what I mean. So let's assume we have the blue iron. Now it is exposed to the air. Now, because it is exposed to the air, it becomes reddish due to rusting. Now you can tell yourself that the reddish color arises from the fact that you have a bright object that you see through darkness. So a bright object seen through darkness becomes reddish. When I look at the iron as it is in its normal state, it is dark at first, that is, it emits wavy lines. But when I expose the iron to the air for a long time, when the iron is in the air for a long time, then the air comes to the iron; and the iron gradually becomes so in the air that it begins to resist the air internally. It resists the air, begins to radiate. And that which radiates, like the sodium flame here, where there is darkness all around, turns yellowish or reddish. So you can say that the relationship between iron and air is such that the iron begins to tingle on the inside and radiates. The iron becomes tingly and radiates. Now you know that iron is also present in the human body, and as a very important substance. Iron is contained in human blood, and iron is a very important component of blood. If we have too little iron in our blood, then we are people who cannot walk properly, who quickly become tired, who become weak. If we have too much iron in our blood, then we become agitated people and lash out at everything. So we have to have just the right amount of iron in our blood, otherwise we will feel bad. Now, gentlemen, nowadays people are less concerned with these things, but I have already drawn your attention to the fact that if you investigate how man is connected with the whole world, you find that blood in man is connected with the influence of Mars. Mars, which is moving, actually always stimulates the activity of blood in us. This is due to its affinity with iron. That is why ancient scholars who knew this attributed to Mars the same nature as iron. So in a sense, Mars can be seen as something similar to our iron. But at the same time, it shimmers reddish yellow, that is, it is constantly radiant in its interior. So in Mars we see a body that is constantly radiating within. This whole thing can only be understood if, on the basis of these studies, we say to ourselves: Mars has an iron-like nature, is an iron-like substance; but it is constantly tingling, it constantly wants to become radiant. Just as iron wants to radiate through the influence of the air, so Mars wants to radiate constantly through the influence of its surroundings. So, in fact, it has a nature that constantly wants to tingle inside, that is, to come to life. Mars constantly wants to come to life. — This can be seen in its entire coloration and in the way it behaves. When dealing with Mars, one must know that it is a world body that actually constantly wants to come to life. With Saturn it is different. Saturn has a bluish shimmer, that is, it does not radiate, but it surrounds itself with a wavy. It is just the opposite of Mars. Saturn wants to constantly pass into the dead, constantly becoming a corpse. You can see from Saturn that it surrounds itself, so to speak, with brightness, so that we then see its darkness through the brightness bluish. Now I would like to draw your attention to something: You can have a very nice experience if you ever walk through a willow forest, or a forest with willows, on a not completely dark but very twilight night. Every now and then you might see something that makes you wonder: Gosh, what is glowing over there? What is it that glows like that? Then you go close and the glowing turns out to be rotting wood. So that which is rotting becomes luminous. If you then went very far away and looked at it and behind it, behind this glowing, you would have a dark area, then the glowing would no longer appear luminous to you, but blue. And so it is with Saturn. Saturn is actually constantly decaying. Saturn decays. That is why it has a light color all around, but it itself is dark, and that is why it appears blue, because we look at its own darkness, I might say, through its decay products, which it has around itself. With Mars, we see how it continually wants to live, with Saturn we see how it continually wants to die. That is the interesting thing, that one can look at world bodies in such a way that one can say of them: the world bodies that appear to you in a bluish glow are perishing, and those that appear to you in a reddish, yellowish glow are only just emerging. And so it is in the world: in one place there is something that is emerging, in another place something that is passing away. Just as in one place on Earth there is a child and in another place an old man, so it is in the universe. Mars is still a young man and wants to live forever. Saturn is already an old man. You see, the ancients studied that. We have to study it again. But we can only understand what the ancients meant if we find it again. That is why, as I said last time, it is so stupid when people say that anthroposophy only writes down what can be found in old writings. Because you can't understand what you find in old writings! You see, you only understand what is written in the old scriptures and comes from the right ancient wisdom when you have found it again. In the Middle Ages, before America was discovered, there was a saying that was very interesting; almost every single person said it. If you had lived at that time, you would have known the saying too. In the Middle Ages, all kinds of people said the saying, because you still learned the saying the way you learn something today, yes, I don't know, an agitprop slogan. This slogan is:
Luna is the moon.
So Mars. So the saying implies: Venus, who is also a young figure, has chosen Marten as her husband, Mars. It is thus implied that Mars is a youth out there in the universe.
So Jupiter is also hinted at, how he intervenes everywhere. And then it is said at last:
Do you see how beautifully this medieval saying contrasts the youth of Mars with the age of Saturn?
So you see, it will not be understood, and that is what people show. Because if a modern scholar reads such a saying, he says: Well, that's a stupid superstition! He laughs at it. If you find what is true in such a saying, he says that it has been copied. So, no, it is impossible to imagine how foolish people actually are, because they cannot understand it. No modern scholar understands what lies in such a saying. But if you can do spiritual research, then you come across it again, only then do you understand it. One must first find these things again oneself, otherwise these old sayings, which are folk wisdom, really remain quite worthless. But it is also wonderful when one finds these things through spiritual research, and then one discovers this tremendous wisdom in simple folk sayings! This just testifies that the old folk sayings are taken from what was taught in ancient schools of wisdom. That is where these sayings come from. Today, people cannot go to their scholars in this way, because today's science does not produce sayings! There is not much that can be applied in life. But there was once a time when people knew such things as I have told you again today. They then wove them into such beautiful sayings. And then, of course, all kinds of things arose from it, sometimes misunderstandings too, of course. Now, this saying that I have just quoted to you about all the planets, yes, that has been forgotten, but other sayings have then been distorted. Of course it is also significant when, let us say, the animals do this or that. They are connected with the universe. We can tell from the tree frog that something is going on with the weather when it climbs up. Isn't it true that the tree frog is used as a weather prophet when it climbs up or down its ladder? That is because everything that lives is in relationship with the whole universe. Only that was later distorted, and it is of course not completely unjustified when one also has such sayings, which one can make fun of when one listens to them, because stupidity has taken hold of them. For example, if someone says: 'If the cockerel crows on the dung heap, the weather will change or remain as it is' – well, that just shows that you shouldn't mix everything up and you shouldn't mix the stupid with the clever either. The saying that I have quoted to you is, of course, one that points to secrets in the universe that are related to light and color. On the other hand, what people often say about what the cockerel does and the like can, of course, be ridiculed, as it is in the saying itself that I have quoted to you. But on the other hand, there is sometimes something extraordinarily profound and very wise in the sayings of the peasants, which are gradually being forgotten. And the farmer is not sad when it snows in March, because there are certain connections between the grain seed and the March snow. In this way, we can see from such things how the whole world can be understood from what we observe on earth. It would be better to stick to what the tree frog can do, which is to climb up and down depending on the weather, than to stick to the marmot, which sleeps, and thus miss out on all the secrets of the universe. I hope it has become clear to you what I developed in relation to your question. It is complicated, of course, and cannot be said in a few words. So I had to say all that, but you will be able to summarize it. It is quite interesting, isn't it, to see the context in this way. Next Wednesday. |
350. Goethe's Standard of the Soul: Translator's Note
Dorothy S. Osmond |
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A translation of the Fairy Tale of “The Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily” has been added in order that readers may better be able to follow Dr. |
350. Goethe's Standard of the Soul: Translator's Note
Dorothy S. Osmond |
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The rendering of the passages from Faust quoted by Dr. Steiner in the two first chapters of this book has been a matter of some difficulty. With one exception, indicated in a Footnote on Page 17, the translation by Bayard Taylor has been used because of its undoubted superiority over other metrical translations. Unfortunately for English students of Goethe's masterpiece, Mr. Taylor's translation has been long out of print, and I am indebted to Mr. Stanley Jast, of the Manchester Public Reference Library, for his kindness in putting a copy of this very rare book at my disposal. The most easily accessible of other metrical translations is that of Miss Anna Swanwick, in Bohn's Popular Library, published by G. Bell & Sons, Ltd., price 2/4. A translation of the Fairy Tale of “The Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily” has been added in order that readers may better be able to follow Dr. Steiner's chapter on the subject. The whole manuscript has been revised and improved by Mr. H. Collison, who is ever ready to put his unrivalled knowledge of English translations of Dr. Steiner's works at the disposal of less experienced students. D. S. OSMOND. |
31. Collected Essays on Cultural and Contemporary History 1887–1901: Goethe Day in Weimar
18 Jun 1898, Rudolf Steiner |
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Webb and that several copies had been made available to members of the Society (published by Longmans Green & Co, 39 Paternoster Row, London). Mr. Ruland then drew attention to a new bust of Goethe from the studio of the well-known sculptor Rumpf in Frankfurt am Main, which was unveiled to the public for the first time today and which greeted the audience promisingly from the living green of the leafy plants behind the speaker's platform. |
31. Collected Essays on Cultural and Contemporary History 1887–1901: Goethe Day in Weimar
18 Jun 1898, Rudolf Steiner |
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Report on the 14th General Assembly of the German Goethe Society This year's Goethe Assembly took place on June 4 in the presence of the Grand Duke, the Hereditary Grand Duke and the Hereditary Grand Duchess and an impressive crowd. The following distinguished and well-known friends were present from Berlin: Professors Erich Schmidt and Carl Frenzel, bookseller Wilhelm Hertz, banker Meier-Cohn, Reichstag deputy Alexander Meyer, Ernst von Wildenbruch, Dr. Paetow as representative of the "Rundschau", Dr. Osborn and others. From Frankfurt a.M. were present: Professor Veit Valentin and the sculptor Rumpf. The University of Jena was represented by the curator Eggeling and Professor Michels. Friedrich Kluge came from Freiburg i. Br. Apart from Lewinsky, we noted the eternally young Carl Sonntag and Edward von Darmstadt among the important foreign stage artists. Privy Court Councillor Dr. Karl Ruland opened the meeting with a. He referred to the commemorative publication of the Goethe-Gesellschaft, which will be published at Christmas under the editorship of Bernhard Suphans and Erich Schmidt and on which Dr. Karl Schüddekopf (Weimar) and Dr. Walzel (Bern) are currently working. It will deal with Goethe's relationship to the Romantics and will gain particular interest through the publication of previously unknown or little-noticed letters by Schlegel, Arnim, Zacharias Werner and others. The Chairman also noted that a new translation of the first part of Goethe's Faust into English had recently been published by Mr. E. Webb and that several copies had been made available to members of the Society (published by Longmans Green & Co, 39 Paternoster Row, London). Mr. Ruland then drew attention to a new bust of Goethe from the studio of the well-known sculptor Rumpf in Frankfurt am Main, which was unveiled to the public for the first time today and which greeted the audience promisingly from the living green of the leafy plants behind the speaker's platform. The work, which was rightly admired by those present, depicts the young Goethe around the time he came to Weimar (1775). Then Professor Dr. von Wilamowitz-Möllendorf from the University of Berlin took to the stage and gave a perfectly formed lecture on Goethe's "Pandora" that was deeply thought-provoking. This last testimony to Goethe's strict classical style, the speaker began, had already been the subject of much in-depth research, but it had never become popular. Most of the readers today would probably still agree with Frau von Stein, who had said that only some parts were enjoyable. Goethe also admitted this in an amiable manner. But even if we take offense at the antique rhythm imposed on our language, we must not give up the attempt to get closer and closer to the core of the poetry. Whether Goethe portrays himself in Epimetheus, whether Frau von Levetzow's daughter and Minna Herzlieb are reflected in the daughters of Epimetheus, as is claimed, is of psychological value, but completely irrelevant to understanding the artistic organism. In the following summary, Redner points out some mysteries that seem unsolvable, such as the origin of Prometheus' son, Phileros, who symbolizes the impulse to higher things, to love. The love relationship between Phileros and Epimeleia, on whose realization Pamino and Pamina do not seem to have remained without influence, has been happily transformed by Goethe from the symbolic into the purely human. The scheme of the continuation of the poem does little to clarify this relationship; in any case, Pandora should appear with the olive branch, the symbol of peace, she herself as the representative of beauty. Art and science, represented by Phileros and Epimeleia, should be seen as the mediators between heaven and earth. Prometheus, reconciled, will wear the oil wreath and rejoice in his creations; and Elpore's appearance at the end inspires courage and hope. After the first step towards human culture through fire, the way seems to be paved for art and science. But Pandora's Ark is dark, incomprehensible. Could art and science suddenly fall into people's laps from heaven? That was a completely alien idea to Goethe, for man could only rise through his own work. In order to bring order and clarity to these feelings that arise through reading, one must firstly look at the poet's objective model, the mythological precipitation of the fable, and secondly consider the circumstances of the time and the mood of mind that influenced the poet in his work. Goethe was probably familiar with Hesiod's tradition, even if he deviated from it. He was probably also familiar with Plato's fable (Protagoras) about Prometheus' theft by fire, through which man becomes capable of existence, even if he initially remains raw. Aidos and Dike as goddesses are sent down, as are timidity and a sense of justice. Plato's school was focused on Eros, i.e. man's longing for infinity, the return of Pandora stimulates people to work, that is the main idea. On the other hand, it is important to remember how things looked in Weimar and in Goethe's soul after the Peace of Tilsit (1807). Anna Amalia was dead and the glorification of the prelude was dedicated to her: "To the opening of the Weimar Theater on 19 September 1807." Deep thoughts occupied the poet on November 19 in Jena, as the diaries reveal; he was studying ancient philosophy at the time, and the olive tree in Prometheus' garden also blossomed for him. Pandora points to the goods that cannot be lost: Freedom and ideals. Plato had founded his academy above a ruined state; the Ark of Pandora led up from the ruins of the German Empire. But who is Pandora? Epimetheus possessed her; he must therefore have known her. She is beauty in a thousand forms and the revelation of form to ennoble content. 'Iδ'εα is the best explanation of what form means; think of Schiller's "Ideals", and the combination of Phileros and Epimeleia demonstrates the maturity of humanity for art and science. Have our people, whose character traits also include the formless, the unbound, understood this admonition? What has not yet been achieved must bring forth the activity of future generations, the fire of the children of Titan must be preserved on the altar of beauty. In the foregoing, it has only been possible to give a very brief sketch of the content of the important lecture, which will appear in the next volume of the Goethe Yearbook. From the proceedings that followed the lecture, we should first mention the extremely witty cash report by the Society's treasurer, Kommerzienrat Dr. Moritz. The speaker emphasized that in the past year the Society had unfortunately not been able to fill the gaps in its membership caused by the natural course of events and various personal circumstances. Compared to the corresponding number of members in 1896, a loss of around 4o members was recorded in the past financial year 1897. However, given the solidity of the publications published each year alongside the yearbook, which could only have a stimulating effect, a renewed upswing was to be hoped for. On December 31, 1897, the Society consisted of 2635 members. There were no significant changes in the Society's income and expenditure compared to the previous year. - On the other hand, the construction of the building for the archive gave rise to extraordinary expenses (20,000 M.), which, however, were covered by ordinary income, except for a small remainder, without drawing on the reserve fund of around 66,000 M. As already mentioned, the report was interspersed with all kinds of delicious flowers of delightful humor. The speaker showed particular affection for the female members, who used to make up 23 percent of all members, but now only 15 percent. Among other things, the presentation of the reasons why some former members have recently decided to leave the Society was a source of great amusement. Before the Treasurer read out an authentic letter from these circles, no one would have dreamed that the pressure on the "ailing agricultural sector" could also have reduced the number of members. Mr. Redner concluded with a witty application of Goethe's words about "cold music, which is only able to capture the heart and mind five hours after listening to it". He hoped that his arguments would have a similar effect on the audience. Loud applause followed the delicious interlude by the witty speaker. Then Privy Councillor Dr. B. Supban announced that not only was the library, which now amounted to more than 41,000 volumes, growing at a pleasing rate, but that the collection of manuscripts in particular had recently received very significant donations of great value. Thus, on June 3, the son of the late poet Viktor von Scheffel had presented the Grand Duke with the original manuscripts of "Trompeter von Säckingen", "Ekkehard", "Gaudeamus", "Juniperus" and the "Bergpsalmen" (some with illustrations), all "wonderfully composed". The Hereditary Grand Duchess had donated valuable and extensive original manuscripts of the former contributors to the "Tübingen-Stuttgarter Morgenblatt für gebildete Stände", which was edited by the poet Hauff's brother, to the Goethe-Schiller Archive. Dr. Suphan went on to explain how unjustified the occasional complaints about the slow progress in printing the edition of Goethe's works were. On the other hand, he had to declare loudly and publicly that work was being done honestly, but that due to the nature of the matter, some things could only progress slowly, and he gave a few examples, not lacking in humor, of how often the strength of the staff was put to the test by answering countless inquiries of all kinds. Then Dr. Suphan, referring to an essay by Herman Grimm on "The Future of the Weimar Goethe-Schiller Archive", which appeared in the last issue of the "Deutsche Rundschau" and was well worth reading, announced that a new work, a monumental Goethe-Schiller dictionary, was to be tackled soon. Preliminary work had already been done, such as a program by Otto Hoffmann in Steglitz on Herder's vocabulary, etc. Scholars of the first rank had promised their cooperation, and only the entire German people could participate. A giant sample postcard made by Dr. Suphan with a scheme for filling in materials for the dictionary on the open side caused much amusement. Finally, Privy Councillor Dr. Ruland, the director of the local museum, reported on the Goethe National Museum, where work was also continuing. Some time ago, Professor Dr. Furtwängler in Munich had carefully examined the cut stones collected by Goethe, and as a result of this examination some of the existing errors had to be corrected. The results of this examination would soon be made available to a wider audience through printing. Of the gifts recently received by the museum, the bust of the old Goethe from the studio of Professor Eberlein in Berlin, a gift from the Grand Duke, is to be kept in the garden room of the Goethe House in the future. Furthermore, a bust of Duchess Anna Amalia made of Fürstenburg pottery and a letter from Goethe to Count Gneisenau dated ı2 July 1829 should also be mentioned. Dr. Ruland concluded his remarks with the wish that the friendly attitude of all friends and patrons of the Society may continue to be preserved for the museum in the future. This was followed by a break of several hours, part of which was used to view the collection, and in the afternoon the banquet took place, which was spiced up by various witty speeches and consumed in the most comfortable atmosphere. Alexander Meyer's toast to the ladies was particularly witty, indeed of sparkling humor, in which the speaker expressed in an amiable, mischievous manner the personal benefit he had derived from the morning's festive lecture. In the evening, Joseph Lewinsky's recital of Schiller's and Goethe's ballads met with grateful applause in the packed court theater. After the theater there was a routine with the Hereditary Grand Duchess; only many of the guests woke up the next morning in the well-known Osteria near the court theater with singing and cheerful conversation. |
327. The Agriculture Course (1958): Lecture II
10 Jun 1924, Koberwitz Tr. George Adams Rudolf Steiner |
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We can see this directly. Look at the green plant-leaves. (Diagram No. 3). The green leaves, in their form and thickness and in their greeness too, carry an earthly element, but they would not be green unless the cosmic force of the Sun were also living in them. |
Thus we can recognise Mars in the red flower, Jupiter in the yellow or white, Saturn in the blue, while in the green leaf we see essentially the Sun itself. But that which thus shines out in the colouring of the flower works as a force most strongly in the root. |
The Sun-quality is in the midst between the two. The Sun-nature lives most of all in the green leaf, in the mutual interplay between the flower and the root and all that is between them. The Sun-quality is really that which is related, as a “diaphragm” (for so we called it in this picture) with the surface of the earth. |
327. The Agriculture Course (1958): Lecture II
10 Jun 1924, Koberwitz Tr. George Adams Rudolf Steiner |
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My dear friends, We shall spend the first lectures gathering various items of knowledge, so as to recognise the conditions on which the prosperity of Agriculture depends. Thereafter we shall draw the practical conclusions, which can only be realised in the immediate application and are only significant when put into practice. In these first lectures you must observe how all agricultural products arise; how Agriculture lives in the totality of the Universe. A farm is true to its essential nature, in the best sense of the word, if it is conceived as a kind of individual entity in itself—a self-contained individuality. Every farm should approximate to this condition. This ideal cannot be absolutely attained, but it should be observed as far as possible. Whatever you need for agricultural production, you should try to posses it within the farm itself (including in the “farm,” needless to say, the due amount of cattle). Properly speaking, any manures or the like which you bring into the farm from outside should be regarded rather as a remedy for a sick farm. That is the ideal. A thoroughly healthy farm should be able to produce within itself all that it needs. We shall see presently why this is the natural thing. So long as one does not regard things in their true essence but only in their outer material aspect, the question may justifiably arise: Is it not a matter of indifference whether we get our cow-dung from the neighbourhood or from our own farm? But it is not so. Although these things may not be able to be strictly carried out, nevertheless, if we wish to do things in a proper and natural way, we need to have this ideal concept of the necessary self-containedness of any farm. You will recognise the justice of this statement if you consider the Earth on the one hand, from which our farm springs forth, and on the other hand, that which works down into our Earth from the Universe beyond. Nowadays, people are wont to speak very abstractly of the influences which work on to the Earth from the surrounding Universe. They are aware, no doubt, that the Sun's light and warmth, and all the meteorological processes connected with it, are in a way related to the form and development of the vegetation that covers the soil. But present-day ideas can give no real information as to the exact relationships, because they do not penetrate to the realities involved. We shall have to consider the matter from various standpoints. Let us to-day choose this one: let us consider, to begin with, the soil of the Earth which is the foundation of all Agriculture. I will indicate the surface of the Earth diagramatically by this line (Diagram 2). The surface of the Earth is generally regarded as mere mineral matter—including some organic elements, at most, inasmuch as there is formation of humus, or manure is added. In reality, however, the earthly soil as such not only contains a certain life—a vegetative nature of its own—but an effective astral principle as well; a fact which is not only not taken into account to-day but is not even admitted nowadays. But we can go still further. We must observe that this inner life of the earthly soil (I am speaking of fine and intimate effects) is different in summer and in winter. Here we are coming to a realm of knowledge, immensely significant for practical life, which is not even thought of in our time. Taking our start from a study of the earthly soil, we must indeed observe that the surface of the Earth is a kind of organ in that organism which reveals itself throughout the growth of Nature. The Earth's surface is a real organ, which—if you will—you may compare to the human diaphragm. (Though it is not quite exact, it will suffice us for purposes of illustration). We gain a right idea of these facts if we say to ourselves: Above the human diaphragm there are certain organs—notably the head and the processes of breathing and circulation which work up into the head. Beneath it there are other organs. If from this point of view we now compare the Earth's surface with the human diaphragm, then we must say: In the individuality with which we are here concerned, the head is beneath the surface of the Earth, while we, with all the animals, are living in the creature's belly! Whatever is above the Earth, belongs in truth to the intestines of the “agricultural individuality,” if we may coin the phrase. We, in our farm, are going about in the belly of the farm, and the plants themselves grow upward in the belly of the farm. Indeed, we have to do with an individuality standing on its head. We only regard it rightly if we imagine it, compared to man, as standing on its head. With respect to the animal, as we shall presently see, it is a little different. Why do I say that the agricultural individuality is standing on its head? For the following reason. Take everything there is in the immediate neighbourhood of the Earth by way of air and water vapours and even warmth. Consider, once more, all that element in the neighbourhood of the Earth in which we ourselves are living and breathing and from which the plants, along with us, receive their outer warmth and air, and even water. All this actually corresponds to that which would represent, in man, the abdominal organs. On the other hand, that which takes place in the interior of the Earth beneath the Earth's surface—works upon plant-growth in the same way in which our head works upon the rest of our organism, notably in childhood, but also throughout our life. There is a constant and living mutual interplay of the above-the-Earth and the below-the-Earth. And now, to localise these influences, I beg you to observe the following. The activities above the Earth are immediately dependent on Moon, Mercury and Venus supplementing and modifying the influences of the Sun. The so-called “planets near the Earth” extend their influences to all that is above the Earth's surface. On the other hand, the distant planets—those that revolve outside the circuit of the Sun—work upon all that is beneath the Earth's surface, assisting those influences which the Sun exercises from below the Earth. Thus, so far as plant-growth is concerned, we must look for the influences of the distant Heavens beneath, and of the Earth's immediate cosmic environment above the Earth's surface. Once more: all that works inward from the far spaces of the Cosmos to influence the growth of plants, works not directly—not by direct radiation—but in this way: It is first received by the Earth, and the Earth then rays it upward again. Thus, the influences that rise upward from the earthly soil—beneficial or harmful for the growth of plants—are in reality cosmic influences rayed back again and working directly in the air and water over the Earth. The direct radiation from the Cosmos is stored up beneath the Earth's surface and works back from thence. Now these relationships determine how the earthly soil, according to its constitution, works upon the growth of plants. (We shall take plant-growth to begin with, and afterwards extend it to the animals). Consider the earthly soil. To begin with, we have those influences that depend on the farthest distances of the Cosmos—the farthest that come into account for earthly processes. These effects are found in what is commonly called sand and rock and stone. Sand and rock—substances impermeable to water, which, in the common phrase, “contain no foodstuffs”—are in reality no less important than any other factors. They are most important for the unfolding of the growth-processes, and they depend throughout on the influences of the most distant cosmic forces. And above all—improbable as it appears at first sight—it is through the sand, with its silicious content, that there comes into the Earth what we may call the life-ethereal and the chemically influential elements of the soil. These influences then take effect as they ray upward again from the Earth. The way the soil itself grows inwardly alive and develops its own chemical processes, depends above all on the composition of the sandy portion of the soil. What the plant-roots experience in the soil depends in no small measure on the extent to which the cosmic life and cosmic chemistry are seized and held by means of the stones and the rock, which may well be at a considerable depth beneath the surface. Therefore, wherever we are studying plant growth, we should be clear in the first place as to the geological foundation out of which it arises. For those plants in which the root-nature as such is important, we should never forget that a silicious ground—even if it be only present in the depths below—is indispensable. I would say, thanks be to God that silica is very widespread on the Earth—in the form of silicic acid, for instance, and in other compounds. It constitutes 47-48% of the surface of the Earth, and for the quantities we need we can reckon practically everywhere on the presence of the silicic activity. But that is not all. All that is thus connected, by way of silicon, with the root-nature, must also be able to be led upward through the plant. It must flow upward. There must be constant interaction between what is drawn in from the Cosmos by the silicon, and what takes place—forgive me!—in the “belly” up above; for by the latter process the “head” beneath must be supplied with what it needs. The “head” is supplied out of the Cosmos, but it must also be in mutual interaction with what is going on in the “belly,” above the Earth's surface. In a word, that which pours down from the Cosmos and is caught up beneath the surface must be able to pour upward again. And for this purpose is the clayey substance in the soil. Everything in the nature of clay is in reality a means of transport, for the influences of cosmic entities within the soil, to carry them upward again from below. When we pass on to practical matters, this knowledge will give us the necessary indications as to how we must deal with a clayey soil, or with a silicious soil, according as we have to plant it with one form of vegetation or another. First we must know what is really happening. However else clay may be described, however, else we may have to treat it so as to make it fertile—all that, no doubt, is most important in the second place, but the fast thing is to know that clay is the carrier of the cosmic upward stream. But this up-streaming of the cosmic influences is not all. There is also the other process which I may call the terrestrial or earthly—that process which is going on in the “belly” and which depends on a kind of external “digestion.” For plant-growth, in effect, all that goes on through summer and winter in the air above the Earth is essentially a kind of digestion. All that is thus taking place through a kind of digestive process, must in its turn be drawn downward into the soil. Thus a true mutual interaction will arise with all the forces and fine homeopathic substances which are engendered by the water and air above the Earth. All this is drawn down into the soil by the greater or lesser limestone content of the soil. The limestone content of the soil itself, and the distribution of limestone substances in homeopathic dilution immediately above the soil—all this is there to carry into the soil the immediate terrestrial process. In due time there will be a science of these things—not the mere scientific jargon of to-day—and it will then be possible to give exact indications. It will be known, for instance, that there is a very great difference between the warmth that is above the Earth's surface that is to say, the warmth that is in the domain of Sun, Venus, Mercury and Moon—and that warmth which makes itself felt within the Earth; which is under the influence of Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. For the plant, we may describe the one kind as leaf-and-flower warmth, and the other as root warmth. These two warmths are essentially different, and in this sense, we may well call the warmth above the Earth dead, and that beneath the Earth's surface living. The warmth beneath the Earth decidedly contains some inner principle of life. It is alive; moreover in winter it is most of all alive. If we human beings had to experience the warmth which works within the Earth, we should all grow dreadfully stupid, for to be clever we need to have dead warmth brought to our body. But the moment the warmth is drawn into the Earth by the limestone-content of the soil, or by other substantialities within the Earth—the moment any outer warmth passes over into inner warmth—it is changed into a certain condition of vitality, however delicate. People to-day are well aware that there is a difference between the air above the soil and the air within, but they do not observe that there is also this difference between the warmth above and within. They know that the air beneath the surface contains more carbonic acid, and the air above, more oxygen, but again they do not know the reason. The reason is that the air too is permeated by a delicate vitality the moment it is absorbed and drawn into the Earth. So it is both with the warmth and with the air; they take on a slightly living quality when they are received into the Earth. The opposite is true of the water and of the solid earthy element itself. They become still more dead inside the Earth than they are outside it. They lose something of their external life. Yet in this very process they become open to receive the most distant cosmic forces. The mineral substances must emancipate themselves from what is working immediately above the surface of the Earth, if they wish to be exposed to the most distant cosmic forces. And in our cosmic age they can most easily do so—they can most easily emancipate themselves from the Earth's immediate neighbourhood and come under the influence of the most distant cosmic forces down inside the Earth—in the time between the 15th January and the 15th February; in this winter season. The time will come when such things are recognised as exact indications. This is the season when the strongest formative-forces of crystallisation, the strongest forces of form, can be developed for the mineral substances within the Earth. It is in the middle of the winter. The interior of the Earth then has the property of being least dependent on itself—on its own mineral masses; it comes under the influence of the crystal-forming forces that are there in the wide spaces of the Cosmos. This then is the situation. Towards the end of January the mineral substances of the Earth have the greatest longing to become crystalline, and the deeper we go into the Earth, the more they have this longing to become purely crystalline within the “household of Nature.” In relation to plant growth, what happens in the minerals at this time is most of all indifferent, or neutral. That is to say, the plants at this time are most left to themselves within the Earth; they are least exposed to the mineral substances. On the other hand, for a certain time before and after this period—and notably before it, when the minerals are, so to speak, just on the point of passing over into the crystalline element of form and shape—then they are of the greatest importance; they ray out the forces that are particularly important for plant-growth. Thus we may say, approximately in the month of November-December, there is a point of time when that which is under the surface of the Earth becomes especially effective for plant-growth. The practical question is: “How can we really make use of this for the growth of plants?” The time will come when it is recognised, how very important it is to make use of these facts, so as to be able to direct the growth of plants. I will observe at once, if we are dealing with a soil which does not readily or of its own accord carry upward the influences which should be working upward in this winter season, then it is well to add a dose of clay to the soil. (I shall indicate the proper dose later on). We thereby prepare the soil to carry upward what, to begin with, is inside the Earth and make it effective for the growth of plants. I mean, the crystalline forces which we observe already when we look out over the crystallising snow. (The force of crystallisation, however, grows stronger and more intense the farther we go into the interior of the Earth). This crystallising force must therefore be carried upward at a time when it has not yet reached its culminating point—which it will only attain in January or February. Thus we derive the most positive hints from knowledge which at first sight seems remote. We get indications that will really help us, where we should otherwise be experimenting in the dark. Altogether, we should be clear that the whole domain of Agriculture—including what is beneath the surface of the Earth—represents an individuality, a living organism, living even in time. The life of the Earth is especially strong during the winter season, whereas in summer-time it tends in a certain sense to die. Now for the tilling of the soil one important thing should above all be understood. I have often mentioned it among anthroposophists. It is this. We must know the conditions under which the cosmic spaces are able to pour their forces down into the earthly realm. To recognise these conditions, let us take our start from the seed-forming process. The seed, out of which the embryo develops, is usually regarded as a very complicated molecular structure, and scientists are especially anxious to understand it in its complex molecular structure. In simple molecules, they imagine, there is a simple structure; then it grows ever more complicated, till at last we get to the infinitely complex structure of the protein molecule. With wonder and astonishment they stand before what they imagine as the complicated structure of the protein in the seed. For they conceive it as follows. They think the protein molecule must be extremely complicated; for after all, out of its complexity, the whole new organism will grow. The new organism, infinitely complex as it is, was already pre-figured in the embryonic condition of the seed. Therefore this microscopic or ultra-microscopic substance must also be infinitely complex in its structure. To begin with, to a certain extent this is quite true. When the earthly protein is built up, the molecular structure is indeed raised to the highest complexity. But a new organism could never arise out of this complexity. The organism does not arise out of the seed in that way at all. That which develops as the seed, out of the mother-plant or mother-animal, does not by any means simply continue its existence in that which afterwards arises as the descendant plant or animal. That is not true. The truth is rather this:— When the complexity of structure has been enhanced to the highest degree, it all disintegrates again, and eventually, where we first had the highest complexity attained within the Earth-domain, we now have a tiny realm of chaos. It all disintegrates, as we might say, into cosmic dust. Then, when the seed—having been raised to the highest complexity—has fallen asunder into cosmic dust and the tiny realm of chaos is there, then the entire surrounding Universe begins to work and stamps itself upon the seed, thus building up out of the tiny chaos that which can only be built in it by forces pouring in from the great Universe from all sides (Diagram No. 4). So in the seed we get an image of the Universe. In every seed-formation, the earthly process of organisation is carried to the very end—to the point of chaos. Time and again, in the chaos of the seed the new organism is built up again out of the whole Universe. The parent organism has to play this part: through its affinity to a particular cosmic situation, it tends to bring the seed into that situation whereby the forces work from the right cosmic directions, so that a dandelion brings forth, not a barberry, but a dandelion in its turn. That which is imaged in the single plant, is always the image of some cosmic constellation. Ever and again, it is built out of the Cosmos. Therefore, if ever we want to make the forces of the Cosmos effective in our earthly realm, we must drive the earthly as far as possible into a state of chaos. For plant-growth, Nature herself will see to it to some extent, that this is done. However, since every new organism is built out of the Cosmos, it is also necessary for us to preserve the cosmic process in the organism long enough—that is, until the seed-forming process occurs once more. Say we plant the seed of some plant in the Earth. Here in this seed we have the stamp or impress of the whole Cosmos—from one cosmic aspect or another. The constellation takes effect in the seed; thereby it receives its special form. Now, the moment it is planted in the Earth-realm, the external forces of the Earth influence it very strongly, and it is permeated every moment with a longing to deny the cosmic process—that is to say, to grow hypertrophied, to grow out in all manner of directions. For that which is working above the Earth does not really want to preserve this form. The seed must be driven to the state of chaos. On the other hand, when the first beginnings of the plant are unfolding out of the seed, and at the later stages also—over against the cosmic form which is living as the plant-form in the seed we need to bring the earthly element into the plant. We must bring the plant nearer to the Earth in its growth. And this we can only do by bringing into the life of the plant such life as is already present on the Earth. That is to say, we must bring into it life that has not yet reached the utterly chaotic state—life that has not yet gone forward to the stage of seed-formation—life, that is to say, which came to an end in the organisation of some plant before it reached the point of seed-formation. In effect, we must bring into it such life as is already present on the Earth. In this respect, in districts which are well-favoured by fortune, a rich humus-formation comes very largely to man's assistance in “Nature's household.” For in the last resort man can but sparingly replace by artificial means the fertility the Earth itself is able to achieve by natural humus-formation. To what is this transformation due? It is due to the fact that that which comes from the plant-life is absorbed by the whole Nature-process. To some extent, all life that has not yet reached the state of chaos rejects the cosmic influences. If such life is also made use of in the plant's growth, the effect is to hold fast in the plant what is essentially earthly. The cosmic process works only in the stream which passes upward once more to the seed-formation; while on the other hand the earthly process works in the unfolding of leaf, blossom and so on, and the cosmic only radiates its influences into all this. We can trace the process quite exactly. Assume you have a plant growing upward from the root. At the end of the stem the little grain of seed is formed. The leaves and flowers spread themselves out. Now the earthly element in leaf and flower is the shape and form and the filling of earthly matter. The reason why a leaf or grain develops thick and strong—absorbs inner substantialities, and so on—the reason for this lies in all that which we bring to the plant by way of earthly life that has not yet reached the state of chaos. On the other hand, the seed which evolves its force right up the steam (in a vertical direction, not in the circling round)—the seed irradiates the leaf and blossom of the plant with the force of the Cosmos. We can see this directly. Look at the green plant-leaves. (Diagram No. 3). The green leaves, in their form and thickness and in their greeness too, carry an earthly element, but they would not be green unless the cosmic force of the Sun were also living in them. And even more so when you come to the coloured flower; therein are living not only the cosmic forces of the Sun, but also the supplementary forces which the Sun-forces receive from the distant planets—Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. In this way we must look at all plant growth. Then, when we contemplate the rose, in its red colour we shall see the forces of Mars. Or when we look at the yellow sunflower—it is not quite rightly so called, it is called so on account of its form; as to its yellowness it should really be named the Jupiter-flower. For the force of Jupiter, supplementing the cosmic force of the Sun, brings forth the white or yellow colour in the flowers. And when we approach the chicory (Cichoriuns Intybus), we shall divine in the bluish colour the influence of Saturn, supplementing that of the Sun. Thus we can recognise Mars in the red flower, Jupiter in the yellow or white, Saturn in the blue, while in the green leaf we see essentially the Sun itself. But that which thus shines out in the colouring of the flower works as a force most strongly in the root. For the forces that live and abound in the distant planets are working, as we have seen, down there below within the earthly soil. It is so indeed. We must say to ourselves: Suppose we pull a plant out of the Earth. Down below we have the root. In the root there is the cosmic nature, whereas in the flower most of all there is the earthly, the cosmic being only present in the delicate quality of the colouring and shading. If on the other hand the earthly nature is to live strongly in the root, then it must shoot into form. For the plant always has its form from that which can arise within the earthly realm. That which expands the form is earthly. Thus if the root is ramified and much-divided, then, as in the flower's colouring the cosmic nature is working upward, so here the earthly nature is working downward. Therefore the cosmic roots are those that are more or less single in form, whereas in highly ramified roots we have a working of the earthly nature downward into the soil, just as in colour we have a working-upward of the cosmic nature into the flower. The Sun-quality is in the midst between the two. The Sun-nature lives most of all in the green leaf, in the mutual interplay between the flower and the root and all that is between them. The Sun-quality is really that which is related, as a “diaphragm” (for so we called it in this picture) with the surface of the earth. The cosmic is associated with the interior of the Earth and works upward into the upper parts of the plant. The earthly, which is localised above the surface of the earth, works downward, being carried down into the plant with the help of the limestone element. Observe those plants in which the limestone strongly draws the earthly nature downward into the roots. These are the plants whose roots shoot out in all directions with many ramifications, such, for instance, as the food fodder plants—I do not mean turnips or the like, but plants like sainfoin. Such things must be recognised in the form of the plant. To understand the plant, we must recognise the form of the plant and from the colour of the flower, the extent to which the cosmic and the earthly are working there. Assume that by some means we cause the cosmic to be strongly retained—held up within the plant itself. Then it will not reveal itself to any great extent. It will not shoot out into blossom but will express itself in a stalk-like nature. Where, now, according to the indications we have given, does the cosmic nature live in the plant? It lives in the silicious element. Look at the equisetum plant. It has this peculiarity: it draws the cosmic nature to itself; it permeates itself with the silicious nature. It contains no less than 90% of silicic acid. In equisetum the cosmic is present, so to speak, in very great excess, yet in such a way that it does not go upward and reveal itself in the flower but betrays its presence in the growth of the lower parts. Or let us take another case. Suppose that we wish to hold back in the root-nature of a plant that which would otherwise tend upward through the stem and leaf. No doubt this is not so important in our present earthly epoch, for through various conditions we have already largely fixed the different species of plants. In former epochs—notably in primeval epochs—it was different. At that time it was still possible quite easily to transform one plant into another; hence it was very important to know these things. To-day too, it is important if we wish to find what conditions are favourable to one plant or another. What do we then need to consider? How must we look at a plant when we desire the cosmic forces not to shoot upward into the blossoming and fruiting process but to remain below? Suppose we want the stem and leaf-formation to be held back in the root. What must we then do? We must put such a plant into a sandy soil, for in silicious soil the cosmic is held back; it is actually “caught:” Take the potato, for example. With the potato this end must be attained. The blossoming process must be kept below. For the potato is a stem and leaf-formation down in the region of the root. The leaf and stem-forming process is held back, retained in the potato itself. The potato is not a root, it is a stem-formation held back. We must therefore bring it into a sandy soil. Otherwise we shall not succeed in having the cosmic force retained in the potato. This, therefore, is the ABC for our judgment of plant-growth. We must always be able to say, what in the plant is cosmic, and what is terrestrial or earthly. How can we adapt the soil of the earth, by its special consistency, as it were to densify the cosmic and thereby hold it back more in the root and leaf? Or again, how can we thin it out so that it is drawn upward in a dilute condition, right up into the flowers, giving them colour—or into the fruit-forming process, permeating the fruit with a fine and delicate taste? For if you have apricots or plums with a fine taste—this taste, just like the colour of the flowers, is the cosmic quality which has been carried upward, right into the fruit. In the apple you are eating Jupiter, in the plum you are actually eating Saturn. If mankind with their present state of knowledge were suddenly obliged to create, from the comparatively few plants of the primeval epoch of the Earth, the manifold variety of our present fruits and fruit-trees, they would not get very far. We should not get far if it were not for the fact that the forms of our different fruits are inherited. They were produced at a time when humanity had knowledge, out of primeval and instinctive wisdom, how to create the different kinds of fruits from the primitive varieties that then existed. If we did not already possess the different kinds of fruit, handing them down by heredity—if we had to do it all over again with our present cleverness—we should not be very successful in creating the different kinds of fruit. Nowadays it is all done by blind experiment, there is no rational penetration into the process. This must be re-discovered if we wish to go on working on the Earth at all. Extremely apt was the remark of our friend Stegemann to the effect that a decrease in the value of the products is observable. This decrease is indeed connected—like the transformation in the human soul itself—with the ending of Kali Yuga in the Universe during the last decades and in the decades that are now about to come. You may take my remark amiss or not, as you will. We stand face to face with a great change, even in the inner being of Nature. What has come down to us from ancient times—whatever it may be that we have handed down: natural talents, knowledge derived from Nature, and the like, even the traditional medicaments we still possess—all this is losing its value. We must gain new knowledge in order to enter again into the whole Nature-relationship of these things. Mankind has no other choice. Either we must learn once more, in all domains of life learn—from the whole nexus of Nature and the Universe—or else we must see Nature and withal the life of Man himself degenerate and die. As in ancient times it was necessary for men to have knowledge entering into the inwardness of Nature, so do we now stand in need of such knowledge once again. As I said just now, the man of to-day may know—though this knowledge too is very scanty—he may know how the air behaves in the interior of the Earth. But he knows practically nothing of how the light behaves in the interior of the Earth. He does not know that the silicious—that is, the cosmic—stone or rock or sand receives the light into the Earth and makes it effective there. Whereas that which stands nearer to the earthly-living nature, namely the humus, does not receive it; it does not make the light effective in the Earth. It therefore gives rise to a “light-less” working. Such things must be penetrated once more with clear understanding. Now the plant-growth of the Earth is not all. To any given district of the Earth a specific animal life also belongs. For reasons which will presently be evident, we may for the moment leave man out, but we cannot neglect animal life. For this is the peculiar fact; the best—if I may call it so—cosmic qualitative analysis takes place of its own accord, in the life of a certain district of the Earth, overgrown as it is with plants, along with the animals in the same region. This is the peculiar fact—and I should be glad if my statements were tested, for if you subsequently test them you will certainly find them confirmed. This is the peculiar relation. If in any farm you have the right amount of horses, cows and other animals, these animals taken together will give just the amount of manure which you need for the farm itself, in order, as I said, to add something more to what has already turned into chaos. Nay more, if you have the right number of cows, horses, pigs, etc., severally, the proportion of admixture in the manure will also be correct. This is due to the fact that the animals will eat the right measure of what is provided for them by the growth of plants. They eat the right quantity of what the Earth is able to provide. Hence in the course of their organic processes they bring forth just the amount of manure which needs to be given back again to the Earth. This therefore is the case. We cannot carry it out absolutely, but in the ideal sense it is correct. If we are obliged to import any manure from outside the farm, properly speaking we should only use it as a remedy—as a medicament for a farm that has already grown ill. The farm is only healthy inasmuch as it provides its own manure from its own stock. Naturally, this will necessitate our developing a proper science of the number of animals of a given sort which we need for a given kind of farm. This need not cause any alarm. Such a science will arise in good time, as soon as we begin to have any knowledge again of the inner forces concerned. In effect, what was said at the beginning of this lecture—describing that which is above the Earth's surface as a kind of belly, and that which is beneath as a kind of head-existence—is not complete unless we also understand the animal organism in this way. The animal organism lives in the whole complex of Nature's household. In form and colour and configuration, and in the structure and consistency of its substance from the front to the hinder parts, it is related to these influences. From the snout towards the heart, the Saturn, Jupiter and Mars influences are at work; in the heart itself the Sun, and behind the heart, towards the tail, the Venus, Mercury and Moon influences (Diagram No. 5). In this respect, those who are interested in these matters should develop their knowledge above all by learning to read the form. To be able to do this is of very great importance. Go to a museum and look at the skeleton of any mammal, and go there with the consciousness that in the form and configuration of the head there is working above all the radiation of the Sun, the direct radiant influence of the Sun as it pours into the mouth. For reasons we shall yet discuss, the animal exposes itself to the Sun in a specific way. A lion exposes itself to the Sun differently from a horse. The forming of the head and that which immediately follows the head, depends on the way the animal is exposed to the Sun. Thus in the fore part of the animal we have the direct Sun-radiation, and as a consequence the forming and development of the head. Now you will remember, the sunlight enters the sphere of the Earth in another way also. It is thrown back by the Moon. We have not only to do with the direct sunlight; we have also to do with the sunlight thrown back by the Moon. This sunlight thrown back by the Moon is quite ineffective when it shines on to the head of an animal. There it has no influence. (What I am now saying applies especially, however, to the embryo life). The light that is rayed back from the Moon develops its highest influence when it falls on the hinder parts of the animal. Look at the skeleton-formation of the hinder parts; observe its peculiar relation to the head-formation. Cultivate a sense of form to perceive this contrast—the attachment of the thighs, the forming of the outgoing parts of the digestive tract, in contrast to that which is formed as the opposite pole, from the head inward. There, in the fore and hinder parts of the animal, you have the true contrast of Sun and Moon. Moreover you will find that the Sun-influence goes as far as the heart and stops short just before the heart. For the head and the blood-forming process, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn are at work. Then, from the heart backward, the Moon influence is supported by the Mercury and Venus forces. If therefore you turn the animal in this way and stand it on its head, with the head stuck into the Earth and the hinder parts upward—you have the position which the “agricultural individuality” has invisibly. This will enable you to discover, from the form and figure of the animal, a definite relation between the manure, for example, which this animal provides, and the needs of the particular portion of the Earth, the plants of which the animal is eating. For you must know these things. You must know, for instance, that the cosmic influences which are effective in a plant rise upward from the interior of the Earth. They are led upward. Suppose a plant is especially rich in such cosmic influences. The animal which eats the plant will in its turn provide manure, out of its whole organism, on the basis of this fodder. Thereby it will provide the very manure which is most suited for the soil on which the plant is growing. Thus if you can read Nature's language of forms, you will perceive all that is needed by the “self-contained individuality” which a true farm or agricultural unit should be. Only the animal stock must also be included in it. |
327. Eurythmy as Visible Singing: Overleaf: The Eurythmy Figures
Tr. Alan P. Stott Alan Stott |
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The words written in the two sketches are : orange—orange, violett—violet, rot-Karmin—carmine red, blaurot—bluish red, grün—green, Melos—Melos, Rhythmus—rhythm, Takt—beat. (See also Endnote 47 in Vol. 2.) Eurythmy figure for the major triad Eurythmy figure for the minor triad |
327. Eurythmy as Visible Singing: Overleaf: The Eurythmy Figures
Tr. Alan P. Stott Alan Stott |
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In 1921 the sculptress Edith Maryon endeavoured to make models of the eurythmy gestures. However, it was found that eurythmy could not be suitably represented in this medium, and Steiner then designed the wooden eurythmy figures that have since become well known. He gave indications regarding the production and colouring of these figures, some of which remain extant in the original and some in copies by Edith Maryon. The complete set was published as Skizzen zu den Eurythmiefiguren [Dornach 1957] (‘Sketches for the eurythmy figures’). The two following examples (the only ones for music) for the major and minor chords are reduced in size by about one third. The figures have been redrawn and newly coloured by Annemarie Bäschlin, and are published as Die Eurythmie-Figuren von Rudolf Steiner [Dornach 1989] (Rudolf Steiner's eurythmy figures’). The words written in the two sketches are : orange—orange, violett—violet, rot-Karmin—carmine red, blaurot—bluish red, grün—green, Melos—Melos, Rhythmus—rhythm, Takt—beat. (See also Endnote 47 in Vol. 2.) |