The Rudolf Steiner Archive

If we examine the human soul, comparing one individual with another, we find the greatest possible variety. In these lectures we have spoken of some typical differences and the reasons for them, relating them to character, temperament, capacities, forces and so on. One significant difference, the difference between positive and negative man, will occupy us today.

At the start, I want to make it clear that this treatment of the subject—which will be fully in keeping with my other lectures—has nothing in common with the superficial but popular descriptions of people as positive and negative. Our account will stand entirely on its own ground.

We might first look round for a kind of clarifying definition of what is meant by a positive or negative person, and thus we might say: In the sense of a true and penetrating teaching concerning human souls, we could designate a positive person as one who, in face of all the impressions pouring in on him from the outer world, is able to maintain the firmness and security of his inner being, at least up to a certain point. Hence he will have clear-cut ideas and concepts, together with certain inclinations and aversions, which outer impressions cannot disturb. Again, his actions follow certain urges and impulses which will not be affected by whatever transient impressions may come to him from daily life.

A negative man, on the other hand, can be described as one who readily submits to changing impressions and is strongly influenced by ideas which come to him from this or that person or group. Hence he is easily impelled to change what he had been thinking or feeling and to take something different into his soul. In his actions he is drawn away from his own impulses by all kinds of influences from other people.

These could be our definitions, roughly speaking. But if we inquire how these deeply rooted characteristics of human nature work out in practice, we shall soon be convinced that we have gained very little from our definitions and that to search for any such convenient labels is fairly useless. For if we try to apply them to real life we have to say: A man of strong passions and impulses, which have carried a certain enduring stamp since childhood, will have allowed all sorts of good and bad examples to pass him by without affecting his habits. He will have formed certain ideas and concepts about this or that and he will stick to them, whatever other facts may be brought before him. Countless obstacles will mount up before he can be convinced of anything different. Such a man would indeed be positive, but it would lead to nothing for him but a dull life, shut off from new impressions, seeing and hearing nothing that could enrich or enlarge his experience.

The other type of man, ready at any time to welcome new impressions and always prepared to correct his ideas if facts go against them, would become—perhaps in a relatively short time—a quite different being. As he goes through successive periods in his life he will seem to be hastening on from one interest to another, so that the character of his life will be quite transformed as time goes on. Compared with the other, “positive” type of man, he will certainly have made more of life—but according to our definition we should have to call him “negative”.

Again, a man of robust character, whose life is governed by custom and routine, might be led by the fashion of the moment to travel in a country richly endowed with art treasures. But he has loaded his soul with so many fixed responses that he passes by one work of art after another, at most consulting his Baedeker to see which are the most important, and finally he goes home with his soul not in the least enriched by all this trailing from gallery to gallery, from landscape to landscape. We would have to call him a very positive man.

By contrast, someone else might follow much the same course of travel, but his character is such that he gives himself up to every picture, loses himself enthusiastically in it, and so it is with the next picture and the next. Thus he passes along with a soul that surrenders to every detail, with the result each impression is wiped out by the next, and he returns home with a kind of chaos in his soul. He is a very negative person, the exact opposite of the other man.

We could go on giving the most varied examples of the two types. We could describe as negative a person who has learnt so much that on every subject his judgment is uncertain; he no longer knows what is true or false and has become a sceptic with regard to life and knowledge. Another man might absorb just as many of the same impressions, but he works on them and knows how to fit them into the whole of his acquired wisdom. He would be a positive man in the best sense of the word.

A child can be tyrannically positive towards grown-ups if it asserts its own inherent nature and tries to reject everything opposed to it. Or a man who has been through many experiences, errors and disappointments may nevertheless surrender to every new impression and may still be easily elated or depressed: compared with the child he will be a negative type. In brief, it is only when we allow the whole of a man's life, to work upon us, not in accordance with any theoretical ideas but in all its variety, and if we use concepts only as an aid in ordering the facts and events of a life, that we can rightly approach these decisive questions concerning positive and negative man. For in discussing the individual peculiarities of human souls we touch on something of the utmost importance. If we did not have to think of man in all his completeness as a living entity, subject to what we call evolution—so often discussed here—these questions would be much simpler.

We see the human soul passing from one stage of evolution to the next, and, if we are speaking in the true sense of spiritual science, we do not picture the life of an individual between birth and death as following always a uniform course. For we know that his life is a sequel to previous lives on earth and the starting-point for later ones. When we observe a human life through its various incarnations, we can readily understand that in one earthly life a man's development may go somewhat slowly, so that he retains the same characteristics and ideas throughout. In another life he will have to catch up with all the more development, leading him to new levels of soul-life. The study of a single life is always in the highest degree insufficient.

Let us now ask how these indications concerning positive and negative types can help us in studying the human soul on the lines laid down in previous lectures. We showed that the soul is by no means a chaotic flux of concepts, feelings and ideas, as it may seem to be at a casual glance. On the contrary, the soul has three members which must be clearly distinguished. The first and lowest of these we called the sentient soul. Its primal form is best seen in men at a relatively low stage of development who are wholly given up to their passions, impulses, wishes and desires and simply pursue every wish, every desire, that arises within them. In men of this type the ego, the self-conscious kernel of the human soul, dwells in a surging sea of passions, desires, sympathies and antipathies, and is subject to every storm that sweeps through the soul. Such a man will follow his inclinations not because he dominates them but because they dominate him, so that he gives way to every inner demand. The ego can scarcely raise itself out of this surge of desires. When the soul develops further, we see more and more clearly how the ego works from a strong central point.

In due course, as evolution proceeds, a higher part of the soul, which exists in everyone, gains a certain predominance over the sentient soul. We have called this higher part the intellectual soul or mind soul. When man ceases to follow every inclination or impulse, then in his soul something emerges which has always been there but can be effective only when the ego begins to control his inclinations and desires and to impose on the ever-changing impressions he receives some kind of coherence in his inner life. Thus when this second member of the soul, the intellectual soul, comes to prevail, it deepens our picture of man.

Next, we spoke of the highest member of the soul, the consciousness soul, where the ego comes to the fore in full strength. Then the inner life turns towards the outer world. Its conceptual images and ideas are no longer there only to control the passions, for at this stage the entire inner life of the soul is guided by the ego, so that it reflects the outer world and gains knowledge of it. When we attain to this knowledge, it is a sign that the consciousness soul has come to dominate the life of the soul. These three soul-members exist in all human beings, but in every case one of them predominates.

The last lectures have shown that the soul can go further in development—must indeed go further even in ordinary life, if we are to be human beings in the true sense of the word. A man whose motives for action derive entirely from external demands, who is impelled to act only by sympathy or antipathy, will make no effort to realise in himself the true quality of human nature. This will be achieved only by someone who raises himself to moral ideas and ideals, derived from the spiritual world, for that is how we enrich the life of the soul with new elements. Man has a “history” only because he can carry into life something which his inner being draws from unknown depths and impresses on the outer world. Similarly, we would never reach a real knowledge of world secrets if we were not able to attach external experiences to ideas. We draw forth these ideas from the spirit in ourselves and bring them to meet the outer world, and it is only by so doing that we can grasp and elucidate the outer world in its true form. Thus we can infuse our inner being with a spiritual element and enrich our soul with experiences that we could never gain from the outer world alone.

As described in the lecture on mysticism, we can rise to a higher form of soul-life by cutting ourselves off for a while from impressions and stimuli from the outer world, by emptying the soul and devoting ourselves—as Meister Eckhart puts it—to the little flame which is usually outshone by the continual experiences of daily life but which can now be kindled into flame. A mystic of this order rises to a soul-life above the ordinary level; he immerses himself in the mysteries of the world by unveiling within himself what the world-mysteries have laid down in his soul. In the next lecture we saw that if a man awaits the future with calm acceptance, and if he looks back over the past in such a way as to feel that dwelling within him is something greater than anything evident in his daily life, he will be impelled to look up in worship to this greater thing that towers above him. We saw that in prayer a man rises inwardly above himself towards something that transcends his ordinary life. And finally, we saw that by real spiritual training, which leads him through the three stages of Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition, he can grow into a world which is as unknown to ordinary people as the world of light and colours is to the blind. Thus we have seen how the soul can grow beyond the normal level, and so we have gained a glimpse of the development of the soul through the most varied stages.

If we look at people around us, we find that they are at widely different levels of development. One man will show in life that he has the potential for raising his soul to a certain stage and will then be able to carry through the gate of death what he has gained. If we study how people go from stage to stage, we come to the concepts of positive and negative but we cannot now say simply that an individual is positive or negative, for he will exhibit each characteristic at different stages of his progress.

To start with, a man may have the strongest, most headstrong impulses in his sentient soul; he will then be impelled by definite urges, passions and desires, while his ego-centre remains in relative obscurity and he may be hardly aware of it. At that point he is very positive and pursues his life as a positive type. But, if he were to remain in that condition, he would make no progress. In the course of his development he must change from a positive into a negative person, for he has to be open to receive whatever his development requires. If he is not prepared to suppress the positive qualities in his sentient soul, so that new impressions can flow in; if he is unable to raise himself out of the positive qualities given him by nature and to acquire a certain negative capacity to receive new impressions, he will get no further.

Here we touch on something which is necessary for the soul but can also be a source of danger—something which shows very clearly that only an intimate knowledge of the soul can guide us safely through life. The fact is that we cannot progress if we try to avoid certain dangers affecting the life of the soul. And these dangers are always present for a negative person, since he is open to the influx of external impressions and to uniting himself with them. This means that he will take in not only good impressions, but also bad and dangerous ones.

When a very negative person meets another person, he will be easily carried away by hearing all sorts of things that have nothing to do with judgment or reason, and he will be influenced not only by what the other person says but by what he does. He may imitate the other person's actions and examples, to the point even of coming to resemble him quite closely. Such a man may indeed be open to good influences, but he will be in danger of responding to every kind of bad stimulus and making it his own.

If we rise from ordinary life to the level where we can see what spiritual facts and beings are at work in our vicinity, we must say that a man with negative soul-qualities is particularly open to the influence of those intangible, indefinable impressions which are hardly evident in external life. For example, the facts show that a man alone is a quite different being from what he is in a large assembly of others, especially if the assembly is active. When he is alone, he follows his own impulses; even a weak ego will look for the source of its actions in itself. But in a large assembly there is a sort of mass-soul in which all the various urges, desires and judgments of those present flow together. A positive man will not easily surrender to this collective entity, but a negative man will always be influenced by it. Hence we can repeatedly experience the truth of what a dialect poet, Rosegger, has said in a few words. He puts it crudely, but there is more than a grain of truth in what he says:

Oaner is a Mensch,
Zwoa san Leit',
San's mehra, san's Viecher.³⁸

We can often notice that men are wiser alone than they are in company, for then they are almost always subject to the prevailing average mood. Thus a man may go to a meeting without any definite ideas or feelings; then he listens to a speaker who takes up with enthusiasm some point which had previously left him cold. He may be affected not so much by the speaker as by the acclamation won from the audience. This grips him and he goes home quite convinced.

Mass-suggestion of this kind plays an enormous part in life. It illustrates the danger to which a negative soul is exposed, and in particular the danger of sectarianism, for while we might fail to convince an individual of something, it becomes relatively easy to do so if we can bring him under the influence of a sect or group, for here mass suggestion will be at work, spreading from soul to soul. There are great dangers here for persons of a negative type.

We can go further. In earlier lectures we have seen how the soul can raise itself into higher realms of spiritual life. And in my Occult Science³⁹ you will find an account of how the soul must train itself to accomplish this stage-by-stage ascent. In the first place it has to suppress the positive element in itself and open itself to new impressions by putting itself artificially into a negative mood. Otherwise it will make no progress. We have often explained what the spiritual researcher has to do if he wishes to reach the higher levels of existence. He has to bring about, deliberately and consciously, the condition which occurs normally in sleep, when the soul receives no outer stimuli. He has to shut out all external impressions, so that his soul is quite empty. Then he must be able to open his soul to impressions which at first, if he is still a beginner, will be quite new to him, and this means that he has to make himself as negative as possible. And everything in mystical life and knowledge of higher worlds that we call inner vision, inward contemplation, does fundamentally bring about negative moods in the soul. There is no way round that. When a man suppresses all stimuli from the outer world and consciously achieves a condition in which he is entirely sunk in himself and has banished all the positive characteristics that had previously been his, then he is bound to become negative and self-absorbed.

Something similar occurs if we employ an easier external method which cannot of itself lead us to a higher life but can give us some support in our ascent—if for instance we turn from foods which stimulate positive impulses in a sort of animal fashion to a special diet, vegetarian or the like. We cannot bring about our ascent into higher worlds by vegetarianism or by not eating this or that; it would be altogether too easy if we could eat our way up to those heights. Nothing but work on our own souls can get us there. But the work can be made easier if we avoid the hampering influence that particular forms of nourishment can have. Anyone who is trying to lead a higher, more spiritual life can readily convince himself that his forces are enhanced by adopting a certain diet. For if he cuts out the foods which tend to foster the robust and positive elements in himself, he will be brought into a negative condition.

Anyone who stands on the ground of genuine spiritual science, free from charlatanry, will never refuse to recognise the things, including external things, which are in fact connected with endeavours to lead a true spiritual life. But this means that we may be exposed also to bad spiritual influences. When we educate ourselves in spiritual science and eliminate everyday impressions, we open ourselves to the spiritual facts and beings which are always around us. Among them, certainly, will be the good spiritual powers and forces which we first learn to perceive when the appropriate organ has unfolded within us, but we shall be open also to the evil spiritual powers and forces around us just as if we are to hear harmonious musical sounds, we must be open also to discordant ones. If we want to penetrate into the spiritual world, we must be clear that we are liable to encounter the bad side of spiritual experiences. If our approach to the spiritual world were to be entirely negative, we would be threatened by one danger after another.

Let us look away from the spiritual world and consider ordinary life. Why should a vegetarian diet, for example, make us negative? If we become vegetarians because of some popular agitation but without adequate judgment, or as a matter of principle without changing our ways of living and acting, it may under certain conditions have a seriously weakening effect on us in relation to other influences, and particularly perhaps on certain bodily characteristics. But if we have gone over to a life of initiative, involving new tasks that arise not from external life but from a richly developing life of the soul, then it can be immensely useful to take a new line in diet also and to clear away any hindrances that may have arisen from our previous eating habits.

Things have very different effects on different people. Hence the spiritual-scientific researcher always insists on something that has often been emphasised here: he will never impart to anyone the means of rising into higher worlds without making it clear to him that he must not merely cultivate the negative soul-qualities that are necessary for receiving new impressions, nor must be content to develop inner vision and inward concentration, for a life which is to rise to a new level must have a content which is strong enough to fill and sustain it. If we were merely to show someone how he can acquire the strength that will enable him to see into the spiritual world, we should be exposing him to bad spiritual forces of every kind, through the negativity that goes with such endeavours. But if he is willing to learn what the spiritual investigator can tell him about the higher worlds, he will never remain merely negative, for he will possess something which can imbue his soul with positive content at a higher stage. That is why we so often emphasise that the seeker must not only strive for higher levels, but must at the same time give careful study to what spiritual science communicates. That is how the spiritual researcher takes account of the fact that anyone who is to experience new realms has to be receptive, and therefore negative, towards them.

What we have to call forth, when we set out consciously to develop the soul, can be seen in the various people we encounter in ordinary life, for the soul does not go through development only in its present life but has done so in previous lives and is at a definite stage when it enters earth-existence. Just as in our present life we have to proceed from stage to stage, and must acquire negative characteristics on our way to a positive stage, so the same thing may have happened when we last went through the gate of death and entered a new life with positive or negative characteristics. The design which sent us into life with positive qualities will leave us where we are and act as a brake on further development, for positive tendencies produce a clearly-defined character. A negative tendency, on the other hand, does make it possible for us to receive a great deal into our soul-life between death and a new birth, but it also exposes us to all the chance happenings of earthly life, and especially to the impressions made on us by other people. Thus when a man of negative type meets other persons, we can usually see how their characteristics leave their mark upon him. Even he himself, when he comes close to a friend or to someone with whom he has had an affectionate relationship, can feel how he becomes more and more like the other: in cases of marriage or deep friendship even his handwriting may be influenced. Observation will indeed show how in marriage the handwriting of a negative person may come to resemble increasingly that of his or her spouse.

So it is that negative types are susceptible to the influence of other people, especially of those close to them. Hence they are exposed to a certain danger of losing themselves, so that their individual soul life and ego-sense may be extinguished.

The danger for a positive type is that he will not be readily accessible to impressions from other people and will often fail to appreciate their characteristic qualities, so that he passes them all by and may be unable to form a friendship or close association with anyone. Hence he is in danger of his soul becoming hardened and desolate.

We can gain deep insight into life when we consider people in terms of the positive and negative aspects in human beings, and this applies also to the different ways in which they respond to the influence of Nature around them. What then is it that acts on a person when he is influenced by other people or when he absorbs impressions from the outer world?

There is one thing that always imparts a positive character to the soul. For modern man, regardless of his stage of development, it is sound judgment, rational weighing up, clarifying for oneself any situation or relationship that may arise in life. The opposite of this is the loss of healthy judgment, so that impressions are admitted to the soul in such a way that positive qualities are no protection against them. We can even observe that when certain human activities slip down into the unconscious, they often have a stronger effect on other people than when they arise from the conscious exercise of normal judgment.

It is unfortunate, especially in a spiritual-scientific movement, that when facts concerning the spiritual world are given in a strictly logical form, a form well recognised in other spheres of life, people are inclined to evade them; they find it uncongenial that such facts should be presented in a rational sequence of cause and effect. But if these communications are imparted to them in such a way that their judgment is not evoked, they are far more ready to respond. There are even people who are highly mistrustful of information about the spiritual world if it is given in rational terms, but very credulous towards anything they may hear from mediums who seem to be inspired by some unknown power. These mediums, who do not know what they are saying and who say more than they know, attract many more believers than do persons who know exactly what they are saying. How is it possible—we often hear it said—for anyone to tell us about the spiritual world unless he is in at least a half-conscious state and evidently possessed by some other power? This is often taken as a reason for objecting to the conscious communication of facts drawn from the spiritual world. That is why running to mediums is much more popular than paying heed to communications based on sound judgment and set forth in rational terms.

When anything that comes from the spiritual world is thrust down into a region from which consciousness is excluded, there is a danger that it will work on the negative characteristics of the soul, for these characteristics always come to the fore when we are approached by an influence from dark subconscious depths. Close observation shows again and again how a relatively stupid person, thanks to his positive qualities, can have a strong effect on a more intelligent person if the latter is easily impressed by anything that emerges from subconscious obscurity. So we can understand how it happens in life that persons with fine minds are the victims of robust characters whose assertions derive solely from their own impulses and inclinations.

If we take one further step, we shall come to a remarkable fact. Consider a man who not merely belies his own reason now and then but suffers from mental illness and says things that spring from this deranged condition. So long as his illness is not noticed, he may have an uncommonly strong influence on persons of finer nature.

All this belongs to the wisdom of life. We shall not get it right unless we realise that a man with positive qualities may not be open to reason, while a negative type of man will often be subject to irrational influences he cannot keep out. A subtler psychology will have to take account of these things.

Now we will turn from impressions made by individuals on one another and come to impressions received by people from their surroundings. Here, too, we can gain important results in the context of positive and negative.

Let us think, for example, of a researcher who has worked very fruitfully on a special subject and has brought together a large number of relevant facts. By so doing he has accomplished something useful for mankind. But now suppose that he connects these facts with ideas gained from his education and his life up to date or from certain theories and philosophical viewpoints which may give a very one-sided view of the facts. In so far as the concepts and ideas he has inferred from the facts are the outcome of his own reflective thinking, they will have a healthy effect on his soul, for by working out his own philosophy he will have imbued his soul with positive feelings. But now suppose that he meets some followers who have not themselves worked over the facts but have merely heard of them or read them. They will lack the feelings that he evoked in himself through his work in laboratory or study, and their frame of mind may be entirely negative. Hence the same doctrine, even though it be one-sided, can be seen as making the leader of their school positive in his soul, while on the whole throng of followers, who merely repeat the doctrine, it can have an unhealthy, negative effect, making them weaker and weaker.

This is something that runs through the whole history of human culture. Even today we can see how men of an entirely materialistic outlook, which they themselves have worked hard to develop from their own findings, are lively positive characters whom it is a pleasure to meet, but in the case of their followers, who carry in their heads the same basic ideas but have not acquired them by their own efforts, these ideas have an unhealthy, negative, weakening effect. Thus we can say that it makes a great difference if a man achieves a philosophical outlook of his own or if he merely takes it from someone else. The first man will acquire positive qualities; the second, negative qualities.

Thus we see how our attitude to the world can make us both positive and negative. For example, a purely theoretical approach to Nature, especially if it omits everything we can actually see with our eyes, makes us negative. There has to be a theoretical knowledge of Nature. But we must not be blind to the fact that this theoretical knowledge gained by the systematic study of animals, plants and minerals and embodied as laws of Nature in the form of concepts and ideas—works on our negative qualities in such a way as to imprison us in these ideas. On the other hand, if we respond with living appreciation to all that Nature in its grandeur has to offer, positive qualities are called forth in our souls—if for example we take delight in a flower, not pulling it to pieces but responding to its beauty, or if we open ourselves to the morning light when the sun is rising, not testing it in astronomical terms but beholding its glory. For anything we adopt by way of a theoretical conception of the world does not implicate our souls; we allow it to be dictated to us by others. But our whole soul is actively involved when we are delighted or repelled by the phenomena of Nature. The truth of Nature is not concerned with the ego, but that which delights or repels us is; for how we respond to Nature depends on the character of our ego.

Thus we can say: Living participation in Nature develops our positive qualities; theorising about Nature does the reverse. But we must qualify this by repeating that a researcher who is the first to analyse a series of natural phenomena is far more positive than one who merely adopts his findings and learns from them. This distinction should be given attention in wide fields of education. And a relevant fact is that wherever there has been a conscious awareness of the things we have been discussing today, the negative characteristics of the human soul have never been cultivated on their own account. Why did Plato inscribe over the entrance to his school of philosophy the words: “Only those with a knowledge of geometry may enter here”?⁴⁰ It was because geometry and mathematics cannot be accepted on the authority of another person. We have to work through geometry by our own inner efforts and can master it only by a positive activity of our souls. If this were heeded today, many of the philosophical systems that buzz around would not exist. For if anyone realises how much positive work has gone into formulating a system of ideas such as geometry, he will learn to respect the creative activity of the human mind; but anyone who reads Haeckel's Riddle of the Universe,⁴¹ for instance, with no notion of how it was worked out, may quite easily arrive at a new world-outlook, but he will do so out of a purely negative state of soul.

Now in spiritual science, or Anthroposophy, we have something which unconditionally requires a positive response. If someone is told that with the aid of popular modern devices, photographs or lantern-slides, he can see some animal or some natural phenomenon brought before his eyes on the screen, he will watch it quite passively, in a negative frame of mind; he will need no positive qualities and will not even need to think. Or he might be shown a series of pictures illustrating the various phases of a glacier on its way down the mountain it would be just the same. These are just examples of how wide is the appeal of these negative, attitudes today. Anthroposophy is not so simple. Photographs could at most give a symbolical suggestion of some of its ideas. The only way of approach to the spiritual world is through the life of the human soul. Anyone who wishes to penetrate fruitfully into spiritual science must realise that its most important elements are not going to be the subject of a demonstration. He is therefore advised that he must work on and with his soul, so as to bring out its most positive qualities. In fact, spiritual science is in the highest sense competent to cultivate these qualities in the human soul. Herein, too, resides the healthiness of its world-outlook, which makes no claim except to arouse the forces sleeping in the soul. In appealing to the activity inherent in every soul, Anthroposophy calls forth its hidden forces, so that they may permeate all the saps and energies of the body; thus it has a health-giving effect, in the fullest sense, on the whole human being. And because Anthroposophy appeals only to sound reason, which cannot be evoked by mass-suggestion but only through individual understanding, and because it renounces everything that mass-suggestion can evoke, it reckons with the most positive qualities of the human soul.

Thus we have brought together, without embellishment, a number of facts and examples which show how man is placed in the midst of two streams, the positive and the negative. He cannot rise to higher stages unless he leaves a lower positive stage and goes over to a negative, receptive condition, so that his soul acquires new content; he takes this along with him and thus becomes positive once more on a higher level. If we learn how to observe Nature rightly, we can see how world-wisdom arranges things so that man may be led from a positive to a negative phase, and on to a positive phase once more.

From this point of view, it is illuminating to study particular topics—for example, Aristotle's famous definition of the tragic.⁴² A tragedy, he says, brings before us a complete dramatic action which can be expected to evoke fear and pity in the spectators, but in such a way that these emotions undergo a catharsis or purgation. Let us note that man, on coming into existence with his usual egotism, is at first very positive: he hardens himself and shuts himself off from others. But then, if he learns to sympathise with others in their sorrows and feels their joys as his own, he becomes very negative, because he goes out from his ego and participates in the feelings of other people.

We become negative also if we are deeply affected by some undefined fate which seems to hang over another person, by what could happen on the morrow to someone with whom we are in close sympathy. Who has not trembled when someone is hastening towards a deed which will lead him to disaster—a disaster we can foresee but which he, driven by his impulses, is powerless to avert? We are afraid of what may come of it, and this induces in us a negative state of soul, for fear is negative. We would no longer have any real part in life if we were unable to fear for someone who is approaching a perilous future. So it is that fear and sympathy make us negative. In order that we may become positive again, tragedy sets before us a Hero. We sympathise with his deeds, and his fate touches us so nearly that our fates are aroused. At the same time the course of the dramatic action brings the picture of the Hero before us in such a way that our fear and pity are purified; they are transformed from negative feelings into the harmonious contentment bestowed on us by a work of art, and so we are raised once more into the positive mode.

Thus the old Greek philosopher's definition of tragedy shows us how art is an element in life which comes to meet an unavoidably negative state of feeling and transmutes it into a positive condition. Art, in all its realms, leads us to a higher level when we have first to be negative in order to progress from a less developed state.

Beauty, initially, must be seen as that which is intended to come before us in order to help us rise beyond our present stage. Ordinary life is then suffused with the radiance of a higher state of soul, if we have first been raised through art to a higher level.

Thus we see how positive and negative alternate, not only in individuals but in the whole life of man, and we see how this contributes to raising both the individual from one incarnation to the next and humanity as a whole. We could easily show, if there were time, how there have been positive and negative epochs and historical periods. The idea of positive and negative throws light into every sphere of the soul's life and of the life of humanity at large.

It never happens that one man is always negative and another always positive. Each of us has to go through positive and negative conditions at different stages of existence. Only when we see the idea in this light shall we accept it as a truth and therefore as a basis for the practice of living. And our discussion today has confirmed the saying that we have put at the beginning and end of these lectures—the saying by the old Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, who, because he could see so deeply into human life, was called the Obscure: “Never will you find the boundaries of the soul, by whatever paths you search, so all-embracing is the soul's being.”⁴³

Now someone might say: “All study of the soul must then be useless, for if its boundaries can never be discovered, no research can establish them and one could despair of ever knowing anything about them.” Only a negative man could take that line. A positive man would add: “Thank God the life of the soul is so far-ranging that knowledge can never encompass it, for this means that everything we comprehend today we shall be able to surpass tomorrow and thus hasten towards higher levels.” Let us be glad that at every moment the life of the soul makes a mockery of our knowledge. We need an unbounded soul-life, for this limitless perspective gives us hope that we may continually surpass the positive and rise from step to step. It is precisely because the extent of our soul-life is unbounded and unknowable that we can look forward with hope and confidence. Because the boundaries of the soul can never be discovered, the soul is able to go beyond them and rise to higher and ever-higher levels.

• 38. Peter Rosegger, 1843–1918. Styrian writer: “One is a man/Two are people/Any more are cattle”.
• 39. Rudolf Steiner, Occult Science, Rudolf Steiner Press, London, 1969.
• 40. These words over the entrance to the Platonic Academy can be found neither in Plato nor in any of his Greek and Roman contemporaries. They are first found in commentators on Aristotle in the 6th century AD; thus Elias, Aristotelis Categorias commentaria, ed. A. Busse (Comm. in Arist. Graeca XVIII, pars 1), Berlin 1900, 118.18; and Philoponus Joannes, Aristotelis de Anima Libris commentaria, ed. M. Hayduck (Comm. in Arist. Graeca XV), Berlin 1897, 117.29.
• 41. Ernst Haeckel, 1834–1919. Die Welträtsel Gemeinverständliche Studien über monistische Philosophie, Bonn 1899.
• 42. See Aristotle, Poetics, chapter 6.
• 43. See note 23.

The cycle of lectures which I was permitted to hold this winter before you, had the task of illuminating from the point of view of spiritual science as characterised in the first lecture here, the most various manifestations of human soul-life and of life in a wider context. Today, let us observe an area of human life which can lead to misery, suffering and perhaps also to the loss of hope. To make up for this, in the next lecture we will touch on a field entitled “Human Conscience”, which will lead us back to the heights where human dignity and value, the power of human self-consciousness is revealed most. And then, this year's cycle will be concluded with a reflection on “The Mission of Art”, which will try to show the thoroughly healthy side of what might appear to us today from its most terrible, dark aspect of life.

When error and mental disorder are spoken of, images of deepest human suffering arise in every person's soul, and images, too, of deepest human sympathy. And everything which thereby arises in the soul can also be a challenge to illuminate a little this chasm in the human soul with the light which we hope to have gained in these lectures. Particularly the person who increasingly accustoms himself to proceed in the way of thinking which has passed before our soul here must have the hope that the spiritual-scientific method of observation can illuminate in certain respects this sad chapter of human life. For anyone with some knowledge of the literature, and I am now referring less to the rapidly expanding non-specialist literature than to the specialist one, will be able to note from the point of view of spiritual science that it reaches an extraordinarily long way in some respects and offers a wealth of material for the assessment of the relevant facts. But on the other hand in no literature does it become so clear how little the different theories, views and modes of thinking in our time are appropriate to providing a framework for the experiences and scientific observations which have been collected. In this field in particular it can be seen clearly how spiritual science is in harmony with true and genuine science, with everything which we come up against as scientific facts, results and experiences. But it can also be seen how at each stage it finds a contradiction between these experiences and the way that they are interpreted from the current scientific point of view. As in other fields, we will again only be able to deal with the subject in outline, but perhaps it will provide the stimulus to gain a relevant understanding which can also flow into our practical life, so that we are increasingly capable of orientating ourselves in respect of the sad condition which we are about to touch upon.

In using the words “error” and “mental disorder” we will be aware that the one is fundamentally different from the other. Nevertheless, the exact observer of a soul-life which can be described truly as mentally disordered will find expressions and appearances which only seem to be different in degree from error committed in some respect in a life which is otherwise regarded as normal. But such observations are liable to misinterpretation in so far as certain directions of thought have the tendency to blur the individual divisions and to state that in fact no firm line exists between a healthy normal soul-life and one which can be described with the words “mental disorder”.

Such statements contain a certain danger which must be emphasised when the occasion occurs. And the danger lies not in the fact that the statement is wrong, but that it is correct. This may sound paradoxical, but nevertheless it is true, that wrong statements are sometimes less dangerous than correct ones which can be interpreted and put into practice in a one-sided way because the danger inherent in their correctness is not noticed. It is often thought to be sufficient that if something can be proved in a certain context it is correct; but it should be realised that every matter which is correct also has its reverse aspect and that any truth which we discover is true only in respect of certain facts and experiences. The danger arises in the moment that it is extrapolated to cover other areas, when it is carried too far and becomes dogmatic belief. That is the reason why in general not much is achieved if we know that a truth exists; the important thing is that in true knowledge we should know the limits within which that knowledge is valid.

We can certainly observe phenomena in normal healthy soul-life which, if they go beyond a certain point, are also pathological symptoms. The full weight of this statement will be noticed only by someone who is properly accustomed to observe life on a more intimate level. Who would deny the pathological aspect which can be included under the heading of “mental disorder” when someone is incapable of linking one comprehended concept with a second one at the right moment, so that he applies the first one in a new and completely inappropriate situation and acts on the basis of an idea which was correct for an earlier situation but not for a later one. Who would deny that this borders on the pathological? If it happens beyond a certain degree it is directly a symptom for mental disorder. But on the other hand, who would deny that there are people who are unable to advance in their work because of their long-windedness, their laboriousness. Here there is a situation in normal soul-life—the impossibility of progressing from an idea—where the point is approached at which it is necessary to stop speaking of error and start speaking of pathological mental disorder.

Let us assume, for example, that someone is prone to the error—and this really does happen—that when someone in the vicinity clears their throat this does not sound to him like a normal cough but gives him the illusion that people are saying unkind things about him. If that person then adjusts his life and actions in response to this illusion he will be considered as someone who is mentally disordered. And yet there is a thin line between this and occurrences in normal life where it happens that someone has overheard something and interprets the meaning in such a way that he thinks he hears something completely different to what was actually said. One meets cases where someone says: “Some person or other said this or that about me” and no trace can be found that the other person actually said that. It is not very easy to determine where the normal soul-life turns from its healthy course into disorder of the soul.

This may seem paradoxical, and it may provoke some reflection in this field, if we imagine that someone in an avenue of trees has the quite normal perception of seeing the trees nearby at their proper distance whilst those further away appear to move closer together and, deciding to tie ropes between the trees, he thereupon makes the lengths of rope shorter the further the trees are away. There we have an example of a person drawing the wrong conclusions from a perfectly healthy observation. But healthy observation only comes about because there is illusion. The illusion is also an observation. The unhealthy, harmful aspect of illusion only comes about when it is considered to be the same reality as a table standing before one. Only when the observations cannot be interpreted in the correct way can it be described as pathological. Now we can compare the case that someone has a hallucination and considers it to be reality in the normal physical sense with the paradox that someone was going to tie the trees of an avenue together with pieces of rope which became shorter and shorter. Logically, in principle, there would be no difference between the two things. Nevertheless, how easily can an illusion lead us to make a wrong judgment and how rarely would we make a similar wrong judgment in observing an avenue! Some people might consider all this silly. But all the same it is necessary to take such particulars into account, for otherwise one can quickly become side-tracked and does not see how easily normal soul-life can become disordered.

Now we can give further examples of still more striking cases concerning people whose soul-life is considered healthy and clear-sighted to the highest degree. I want to mention a German philosopher who is currently considered among the foremost in his field by those who work in it. The philosopher told of his following experience:

He was once in conversation with a person and this conversation led them to talk about a scholar known to both of them. At the moment when the conversation turned to the scholar, the philosopher was reminded of an illustrated book on Paris and immediately following that of a photograph album of Rome. Meanwhile the conversation continued about the scholar. The philosopher reflected how it was possible that during the conversation the image of first the illustrated book on Paris and then the photograph album of Rome could appear. And, indeed, he managed to establish the correct connections. For the scholar about whom they were talking had a noteworthy goatee. This goatee immediately called forth in the subconscious of the philosopher the image of Napoleon III, who also had a goatee; and this idea of Napoleon III which had pushed its way into his consciousness led via France to the illustrated work about Paris. And now the image of another man appeared before him who also had a Van Dyke beard, the image of Victor Emanuel of Italy; and this image led via Italy to the photograph album of Rome. There we have an arbitrary, haphazard sequence of ideas which unfolds whilst something completely different is happening in the fully conscious soul-life. Let us assume, now, that a person reached the point where the illustrated work about Paris arose in him and he then could no longer keep hold of the thread of the conversation, and immediately afterwards he had the subsequent idea of the photograph album of Rome; he would be subject to a haphazard life of ideas; he would be unable to hold an orderly conversation with anyone but would be enmeshed in a pathological soul-life which would lead him without rhyme or reason from one set of ideas to the next.

But our philosopher proceeds further and contrasts this with another case by which he hopes to recognise how these things are related. Once he went to the tax office to pay his taxes. He had to pay 75 marks. And since, in spite of his philosophy, he was an orderly man, he had entered these 75 marks in his expenditure book and had then proceeded with his other work. Later he wanted to remember the amount of tax which he had paid. He could not remember. He thought; and, being a philosopher, went to work systematically. He tried to recall the amount by the association of ideas. He concentrated on his walk to the tax office and he recalled the picture of the four gold twenty mark pieces which he had in his purse and, further, the image of the five marks which had then been given to him as change. He recalled these two images and was now able to discover by a simple subtraction that he had paid 75 marks tax.

Here we have two completely different cases. In the first the soul-life acts of its own accord, as it were, without any kind of control by the conscious sequence of ideas; it produces the image of the illustrated work about Paris and the image of the photograph album of Rome. In the second case we see how the soul acts quite systematically, choosing every step it takes. There really is a considerable difference between the two soul processes. But the philosopher fails to draw attention to something which the spiritual researcher would immediately notice. For the essential thing in the first case is that his attention is fixed on the other person, that the whole of his conscious soul-life is taken up with holding the conversation with the other person and that the haphazard images surface as if on a different level of consciousness, left to themselves. In the second case, the philosopher turns the whole of his attention to determining the sequence of ideas. This explains why the images occur haphazardly in the first case, whilst in the second they are under the control of the conscious soul-life.

But why are there images in the first place? The philosopher fails to answer that. Those who observe life, who know similar cases and are in a position to take into account the nature of the philosopher concerned (I happen to know not only the case but also the man) will be able to set up the following hypothesis. The philosopher was talking of a man who did not particularly interest him. A certain effort was necessary to keep up the concentration on the conversation. Because of this he had a certain amount of soul-life to spare which was not engaged in the conversation and which turned inwards. But he did not have the strength to control the resultant sequence of images so that they occurred haphazardly because he had to give his attention to the uninteresting conversation. This gives an indication how such images occur in the background of conscious soul-life as shadows. Numerous other examples could be given. I chose this example because it is very characteristic and much can be learnt from it.

Now the question may be asked: does such an event not prompt us to investigate human soul-life more deeply? And also: how can such a split in the soul-life come about in the first place? And here we come to the realm where experience of that unhappy subject we are dealing with today can be fitted quite naturally into what we have dealt with so often this winter. The philosopher mentioned in the example is faced with a riddle when recounting his experiences. He does not like to continue once he has told the facts because our external science stops short of knowledge about the essence of things and the human being, however much it may be descriptive.

Our observation of the essential nature of the human being has demonstrated that man must be looked at in more ways than is done by external science, that we have to distinguish an outer and an inner human being. We have shown in numerous areas that sleep has to be regarded differently from the way it is understood in ordinary science. We have shown how what remains in bed of the sleeping human being is only the outer man and that ordinary consciousness cannot follow the invisible higher true inner human being who leaves the outer human being in sleep. Ordinary consciousness just does not see that something leaves the human being which is just as real as that part which remains in bed, that the inner human being is given over to his real home, the spiritual world, between going to sleep and waking up. And it also fails to recognise that he extracts from there what he needs between waking up and going to sleep in order to sustain the ordinary soul-life. That is why we have to regard separately and clearly differentiate the outer human being, who is present with his laws also in sleep, and the inner human being, who is only present in the outer human being in the waking states, but separates himself in sleep. As long as this distinction is not made we will not be able to understand the most important events in human life. Those, who for reasons of convenience see everything as a unity and without a second thought want to establish monism everywhere, will accuse us of being dualists because we divide the human being into two members—an inner and an outer one. But such people should also admit the horrible dualism of the chemist splitting water into hydrogen and oxygen. It is not possible to be a monist in the higher sense if one does not recognise that the monon is something which lies much deeper. But those who see unity only in the most immediate things hinder themselves from being able to observe the manifold nature of life, from recognising those things which alone can explain life.

Now it was also shown that we have to distinguish individual members within the outer and the inner human being. In the outer human being we first distinguished the physical body which we can see and feel. Then there is another member which we call the ether body, which fashions and builds up the physical body. Physical body and ether body remain in bed during sleep. Then the parts which withdraw from the physical and ether bodies during sleep into the spiritual world were described in these lectures as the astral human body which, in turn, encloses the bearer of the ego. But we made still more subtle distinctions. In the astral body we distinguished three soul members, and a careful differentiation of these three members permitted an explanation of many occurrences in life.

We called the lowest soul member the sentient soul, the second member we noted as the intellectual or mind soul and the third one as the consciousness soul. Therefore, when we refer to the inner human being, we do not speak of a chaotic, undifferentiated intermingling of all kinds of will impulses, feelings, concepts and ideas, but we can carefully differentiate in the soul between these three members. Now in ordinary human life there is a certain interrelationship between the outer and the inner human being. The interrelationship can be characterised as follows: the sentient soul, our lowest soul member which contains our desires and passions to which we are slavishly subject if the higher soul members are little developed, is interrelated with the sentient body; this is similar to the sentient soul, but in the human being it is considered as belonging to the outer human being. The astral body has to be described separately from the sentient body here. For the three individual soul members are only modifications of the astral body, not only fashioned but also separated from it. In the waking state the sentient soul is in constant exchange with the sentient body. Similarly, the intellectual or mind soul is in constant interchange with the ether body, and the consciousness soul is in a certain sense intimately connected with the physical body. That is why we are dependent on waking consciousness as far as everything which is to enter the consciousness soul is concerned. The things transmitted by the physical body, the senses, the activity of the human brain, initially enter the consciousness soul.

Thus we have two three-membered sections of the human being which correspond to one another: the sentient soul and the sentient body, the intellectual or mind soul and the ether body, the consciousness soul and the physical body. This correspondence can help us to unravel the threads leading from the inner to the outer human being which can show us how man's normal soul-life may be disturbed if they fail to function in their normal way. Why does this happen?

The sentient soul is dependent on the effects of the sentient body, and when there is an incorrect correspondence between the sentient soul and the sentient body the healthy soul-life of the sentient soul is interrupted. A similar thing occurs when the intellectual soul cannot regulate the ether body in the correct way to make it a proper instrument for the intellectual soul. And the consciousness soul, too, will appear abnormal when the physical body is a hindrance and obstacle for the normal expression of the consciousness soul. If we divide the human being systematically in this way, an order of correspondence can be seen which is essential for a healthy soul-life. And it can also be understood that all sorts of interruptions can occur in the interrelationship between the sentient soul and the sentient body, the intellectual soul and the ether body, the consciousness soul and the physical body. And only the person who can recognise the threads running through this intricate organism and the irregularities which can arise will be able to recognise the disorder which can occur in the soul. Disorder only occurs when there is disharmony between the inner and the outer human being. Let us take the case of the philosopher once more.

The soul-life which takes place under the full control of the consciousness shows what is present in the consciousness soul on the one hand and in the intellectual soul on the other. But in the sentient soul the hardly noticed images follow one another: the illustrated work about Paris, the photograph album of Rome. This occurs because the philosopher brings about a split between his sentient soul and sentient body by diverting his attention whilst still relating to the person standing in front of him. The images of the illustrated work on Paris and the Rome photograph album must be sought in the sentient body; the uncontrolled process which was described takes place there. In the consciousness soul the conversation between the two people occurs; and the necessity of being forced to prevent attention from wandering from the conversation in this case causes a split between the sentient body and the sentient soul.

These are only passing states. For the least disturbance of our soul-life occurs when the sentient body alone becomes independent. We can still maintain reason and the inner thread of consciousness which preserves awareness: we are still present, too, beside the compulsive images which appear because of the sentient body which has become independent.

When such a split occurs in respect of the intellectual soul and the ether body, then the situation is a much more difficult one. Then we enter more deeply those states which verge on the pathological. Nevertheless, it is difficult to decide where the healthy state ends and the pathological one begins. An intricate example will make clear how difficult it is to maintain the experiences of the intellectual soul in complete independence when the ether body goes on strike, when it refuses to be merely a tool of our thinking. When the ether body goes independent and resists the intellectual soul it prevents the thought from coming to expression fully, so that the thought becomes stuck half way and cannot be completed. This can happen with the most clever people, so-called. Let us take a grotesque example.

Everyone will smile at and easily recognise the logical absurdity of the statement: it is a logical conclusion that you still possess what you have not lost. You did not lose big ears, therefore you still have big ears. The absurdity arises because the thought is not in accord with the facts. But on exactly the same pattern—that there is a preceding statement “what you have not lost” which make an unjustified assumption which goes unnoticed—the most unbelievable errors can be committed in the most important questions in life where the matter is a little more complicated. Thus there is a philosopher⁴⁴ who greatly emphasised a theory set up by him about the human ego. We have often mentioned here how even in its definition the ego is different from all experiences which we can have. Everyone can call a table “table”, a glass “glass” and a watch “watch”. Only the word “I” cannot be used by anyone else when it describes ourselves. This is indicative of a fundamental difference between the experience of the ego and all other experience. Such things can be observed; or they can be half observed. And they are only half observed when conclusions are drawn such as by the philosopher: “therefore the ego can never become object, therefore the ego can never be observed.” And it seems a clever view when he continues: if the attempt were made to grasp it, the ego would have to be present externally whilst at the same time being present within itself. That would be no different to someone running around a tree and saying if only he runs fast enough he can catch up with himself from behind. Who would not be convinced when the dogma that the ego can never be grasped in itself is backed by such an example! And yet: the whole thing is based on the fact that such a comparison is not valid. For it is based on the assumption that the ego cannot be observed. If the comparison with the tree were to be used, it would be possible to say only: the ego must not be compared with the person running round the tree but at most with a person who winds himself round a tree like a snake; then perhaps the feet could be held with the hands. Thus the ego is something quite different from everything else within our experience. It is a substance which we can grasp as the coincidence of subject and object. This has been hinted at by mystics at all times in the language of symbols, in the image of the snake biting its own tail. Those who used this symbol understood that they were observing themselves, as it were, in the image before them.

This example demonstrates how we advance from the feelings and perceptions of our immediate perception which can become disharmonious only with the sentient body, to those things which affect not only pure feeling, pure perception, but the intellectual or mind soul. Where we have to digest thoughts internally, which is already a much less arbitrary process, a hindrance is caused not only by the images themselves, but there is something which offers quite a different sort of resistance which cannot be recognised by a thinking which fails to pursue its processes rigorously to their conclusion. We had an example how the human being can enmesh himself in a logic whereof he does not notice that it is only his logic and not the logic of the facts. A logic of the facts is only present when we retain mastery over the link between the intellectual soul and the ether body, and thus the mastery over the ether body. Therefore those pathological expressions of our soul-life which are primarily the result of a breakdown in the link between our ideas turn out to be caused by the ether body not being able to serve as a healthy tool for the expressions of our intellectual soul.

But now the question is justified: if an ether body which creates a hindrance for our intellectual soul to unfold, is part of our nature, is there any choice but to say that the causes affecting the soul such that it passes from mere error to mental disorder lie in something over which we have no control? In a certain sense such an example, if it is truly understood, makes us aware of something which has been emphasised here repeatedly and which is considered to be nonsense by many of our contemporaries—even the most enlightened. We observe that our ether body throws obstacles in the way of our intellectual soul, thus not allowing it to finish any train of thought. So instead of admitting here that we are powerless and can go no further, we pass muddled and distorted judgment. Our judgment from the intellectual soul becomes mixed up with the intrusions of our ether body. A peculiar situation: we think that the ether body belongs to the outer human being and then it interferes with the activity of the intellectual soul as if it were on an equal level. How can this be explained?

Purely on a verbal level one can point to “inherited characteristics”, etc. That is done by those who, because of certain fixed patterns of thinking, are unable to reflect logically on matters concerning the soul. But the philosophers who are able to reflect on the soul say: the error, the chaotic confusion which enters the soul in such a case cannot be the result merely of physical heredity. In contrast, a well-known modern philosopher describes our internal processes which go beyond the purely physical with a remarkable phrase. It might be described as a pretty phrase, were we not dealing with a serious subject, when Wundt⁴⁵ says: “This leads us into the perpetual darkness of evolution!” A person used to rigorous thinking will find such a phrase by a world famous philosopher strange. Compare with this the truth of spiritual science which says: soul and spirit can only originate from soul and spirit—a statement on a higher level which we have often seen as comparable with another truth which the great natural scientist Francesco Redi voiced in the 17th century in a different field: living matter can only originate from living matter. Spiritual science not only reveals physical heredity, but shows that the spiritual element is active in everything physical. And in the situation where the contrary effect of our ether body on the intellectual soul becomes too great, it is plausible that something must have formed and prepared our ether body which is similar to our intellectual soul—only it has badly prepared it. If we therefore find such an error in our intellectual soul in the present, and if we are able to maintain our reason, we can correct the error in such a way that it does not penetrate as far as our corporeality. And one must not think that every emotion immediately results in sickness. No one is more rigorous than spiritual science in the view that it is nonsense to ascribe to external influences without a second thought when a person becomes mentally disordered. But on the other hand it must be understood, even if we have no power to change our ether body, that it is saturated and imbued with the same laws of error which exist when a mistake is made, but that we become sick when the error comes to expression in the ether body. Such error cannot normally take effect immediately in our present life between birth and death. This only happens if it becomes repeated and habitual. For it is another matter if we continually compound error upon error between birth and death in a specific case, if we regularly succumb to certain weaknesses of the thinking, feeling and willing and live with them between birth and death. The outer bodily nature can only change a limited amount between birth and death. When we pass through the gate of death the physical body with all the good and bad qualities is destroyed and we take with us in our thinking, feeling and willing everything good and bad which we have created. And in constructing our outer bodily nature in the next existence we transmit into it the errors and the chaos, our weaknesses in thinking, feeling and willing from our present existence.

Therefore, with reference to an ether body which holds us back, an error in our present soul-life cannot immediately take shape in our ether body, but the error which at present is only content if our soul participates in the organisation of our next existence. What appear in our ether body as causes and as certain characteristics will not be traced back to our present existence, but they can certainly be found if we return to an earlier incarnation.

This shows us that we can understand a wide field of mental disorder only if we grope not merely in the secret “perpetual darkness of evolution” but if we go to an earlier existence of the human being. Nevertheless, this truth also must not be taken to extremes; for we must be aware that the human being has within him besides the qualities from an earlier life also those which are inherited, and that certain qualities of our outer human being must be considered as hereditary. It is necessary to distinguish carefully between what the human being carries with him from one existence to the next and his characteristics as descendant of his ancestors.

Now a similar disharmony can arise between our consciousness soul, which forms the basis of our self-consciousness, and our physical body. Then not only do those characteristics appear in our physical body for which we are responsible from earlier incarnations, but also those which can be found in the line of descent. But here, too, the principle is the same. The work of the consciousness soul can find an obstacle in the active laws of the physical body. And when the consciousness soul meets these obstacles then all the things arise which appear so cruelly in certain symptoms of mental disorder. Similarly all the unhappy aspects of a particular organ appear when that organ is particularly prominent in our physical body. When the organs of our physical body work properly together and none of them is more developed than the others, our physical body is a proper instrument for our consciousness soul, just as a healthy eye presents no obstacle to seeing. In this context we can draw attention to a case told by an important scientist of our time. A person had impaired vision in one eye. As a result of this it seemed to him particularly at dusk, as if he saw something of the nature of apparitions. Because this impairment of the eye influenced his vision, he often felt as if someone was standing in his way. Where such an effect by the eye creates an obstacle normal sight is not possible. These partial defects can appear in all different forms.

When the consciousness soul finds an obstacle in the physical body, this is attributable to the special prominence of the one or the other organ. For when all the organs of the physical body are working together normally it causes no resistance to the consciousness soul and we can give expression to our self-consciousness in a regular way. An obstacle is noticed only when an organ gains special prominence, for then resistance is encountered, but if this free intercourse with the outside world is obstructed and we do not notice the obstacle in our consciousness, ideas of megalomania and paranoia appear as symptoms of the actual, more deeply seated sickness.

In thus observing man as a complex being, disharmony and harmony in life can be understood. It was not possible to indicate more than briefly how the various members interact and how spiritual science can bring order and clarification to the wonderful results which are presented in the relevant literature today.

If we understand this we will be able to gain further insights. Insights into the reality of the inner human being and the interaction of the outer and the inner human being from incarnation to incarnation; how in certain failings of the outer human being, in failings of the ether body for example, there appear the consequences of weaknesses and mistakes from earlier stages of existence. But this also shows us that we will not always manage to overcome them by an inner regulated, strong soul-life, if the obstacles are too great. But it is possible in many respects, because if in abnormal soul-life there is only the conflict between outer and inner human being, then we can also understand that it is important to strengthen the inner human being as much as possible. A weak person who does not like to pursue his thinking rigorously to its conclusion, who does not want to define his ideas clearly, who is not intent on developing his feelings in such a way that they are in accord with his experiences, such a person will be able to show only weak opposition to the resistance of the outer human being: and if he bears the seeds of illness within him he will succumb to mental disorder when the time comes. But the situation is different if we can oppose sickness of the outer human being with a strong inner being, because the stronger of the two will win! From this we can see that although we cannot always be assured of victory over our outer nature, we can do much to keep the upper hand over it by the development of a strong, regulated soul-life. And we can see the reason for trying to develop our feelings and emotions and our will in such a manner that we do not feel affected by every minor inconvenience; for trying to expand our thinking to encompass the greater context; for seeking to pursue with our thinking not only the most obvious threads but to pursue them to their most detailed entailments; for being concerned to develop our desires in such a way that we do not want the impossible but are in accord with the circumstances. If we develop a strong soul-life we may still encounter a limit, but we will have done the utmost to make our inner being predominate over all external resistance.

Thus we can see the significance for the human being to develop his soul-life correspondingly. In the present there is little understanding for what is meant by developing the soul-life. It has been mentioned on similar occasions before that much weight is given today to gymnastics, for example, going for walks, training the physical body. I do not want to comment on the principle contained therein; these things can be healthy. But they quite certainly do not lead to good results if only the outer human being is taken into consideration, as if he were a machine, when exercises are done which only aim to strengthen physiologically. In gymnastics such exercises should not be undertaken at all which are characterised by the view that this or that muscle should be strengthened in particular; but we should take care that we experience an inner joy with every exercise, that we fetch the impulse for every exercise from an inner feeling of well-being. The impulses for the exercises should come from the soul. The gym teacher, for example, should be able to put himself in a position emotionally of experiencing how the soul feels one or another sort of well-being when one or another exercise is undertaken. Then we strengthen the soul; otherwise we strengthen only the body, and the soul can remain as weak as ever. Those who know life will find that exercises which are undertaken from this point of view have a health-giving effect and make quite a different contribution to the well-being of the human being than the exercises which are undertaken merely as if the human being were an anatomical machine. The connection between the life of soul and the life of the physical body is only revealed by the exact investigation of spiritual science. Those who believe that the physical can balance spiritual effort are unaware of an essential element. The spiritual scientist knows that he can become extremely tired, for example, when he is required to communicate a truth to another person and then has to listen to the other speak who is not yet able to express himself properly about the subject, who cannot yet form proper images in his thinking—whilst for example he does not become exhausted however much he researches into the spiritual world; that could be continued indefinitely. The reason for this is that when one is listening to someone else one is dealing with physical communication whereby the physical brain is involved, whilst spiritual research still requires the physical organs to some extent on lower levels, but requires them less and less the higher it reaches and therefore becomes correspondingly less exhausting. When the outer human being no longer has to participate exhaustion and tiredness no longer arise. It can be seen that differentiation must be made in spiritual activity, that there are differences whether spiritual activity is given its impulse from the soul itself or whether it is prompted from the outside. That is something which should always be taken into account: in the various stages of the human being's development those events always take place which correspond to the inner impulses.

Let us take an example which has been emphasised before and which can be found in my little work The Education of the Child in the Light of Anthroposophy.⁴⁶ There it says that the child up to the seventh year of age primarily feels the impulse in all its actions to imitate. Then, between the changing of the teeth and puberty, its development is characterised by what might be called “orientating oneself according to an authority” or acting according to the impression made on us by another person. Let us assume that these two stages of imitation and bowing to authority are ignored. If no account is taken of them the outer body, instead of becoming an instrument of the soul, will develop irregularly and the soul will then no longer have the opportunity in the consecutive periods of human development to affect in the correct way the irregular nature of the outer human being and interact with it. Then, when the human being enters a new stage of development at significant periods in human life, we see that to a certain degree a member of his being may have fallen behind if these rules are not observed. Ignoring this law lies at the basis of schizophrenia, dementia praecox. By ignoring the correct processes in earlier periods dementia praecox can arise as disharmony between the inner and outer human being, a symptom of belated imitation. It is often the case that the disharmony of those things which are cleanly divided by spiritual science is in many cases the cause of abnormality in the soul. Similarly we can see in the appearance of senile dementia towards the end of life the disharmony between inner and outer human being, brought about because the human being did not live in such a manner that harmony could exist between inner and outer man in the period between puberty and the time when the astral body is fully developed.

This shows us that knowledge of the human being can illuminate the nature of error and mental disorder. And even if we find only a superficial link, if a person cannot say that error, in so far as it is part of normal soul-life, can affect our outer nature, it has to be said in contrast that the law according to which the development of a strong logic, a regulated soul-life harmonious in feeling and willing can strengthen us against the obstacles which arise from the outer human being is greatly encouraging. Thus spiritual science gives us the possibility, perhaps not always, but most of the time, of countering the superiority, the supremacy of the outer human being. It is important that when we strengthen and nurture the inner human being we strengthen and nurture it against the predominance of the outer human being. Spiritual science gives us the healing power to do this. It therefore always emphasises the importance of developing ordered thinking which avoids irrelevancies, not to stop with one's thoughts half-way but to pursue them consistently to the end. That is why spiritual science, with its strict demands to order our soul-life in such a manner that it appears internally disciplined and in harmony, is itself a medicine against the predominance of the pathological symptoms of our outward bodily nature. And the human being can be victorious over pathological pre-dispositions when he can envelop bodily weakness, bodily mis-formation with the light of a healthy willing, a healthy feeling and a self-disciplined thinking. That is something which is unpopular today, and yet it is important for an understanding of the present. Thus spiritual science even gives us some consolation, namely that in the spirit, if we truly strengthen it, we continue to have the best remedy for everything which can affect us in life. By means of spiritual science we learn not merely to theorise about the spirit, but we learn to turn it into a healing power within us when we make the effort to continue where philistines like to stop: the half-finished thought. For it is nothing but half-finished thinking when it is said: “Prove what you say about repeated earth lives and so on!” It cannot be proved to the person who refuses to lead his thoughts to their conclusion. Whole truths cannot be proved with half thoughts. They can only be proved to whole thinking, and whole thinking has to be developed by the human being within himself.

If the indications which have been given here are developed further, it will be seen that this is central to the evil of our time: the disbelief in the spirit, But it will also be seen that an indication has been given here where the means lie to transform disbelief into belief, into true strong spirituality. The belief in reason is lacking in large measure in mankind today. Therefore the reasoned objectivity which is necessary to understand the truths of spiritual science is not always present. It is not with ridicule and irony, but with a certain sadness that the lines in Faust about certain people might be applied to our present time.

“If they possessed the philosopher's stone,
The philosopher would not match the stone.”⁴⁷

Reason can understand spiritual science and reasoned understanding of spiritual science can heal the furthest reaches of the bodily nature. That, by the way, is claimed by others than only by spiritual scientists today. This claim has also been made by those who tried to approach the spirit by other paths than modern spiritual science, but such people, too, are little understood in the present. Who would not ridicule Hegel today precisely because he emphasised the existence, the work and the necessity of reason everywhere? He emphasised it in such a manner that he thought of the work of reason in the human being today in the following way: “I imagine this human life as a cross”, and for Hegel the roses on the cross were equivalent to reason in the human being. That is why he prefaces one of his works with the motto: “Reason is the rose on the cross of the present”,⁴⁸ and belief in reason will make the cross victorious. Belief in reason and belief in disciplined thinking, in harmonious feeling and willing will attach the roses to the cross. We have the strength in us to counter what we call mental disorder, at least to a certain degree, when we have belief in harmonious feeling which can be developed, harmonious willing which can be developed and self-disciplined reason which can be developed and which must be developed. If we develop these three, then under all circumstances we will be more strong and triumphant in life. And because Hegel draws together in reason a harmonious feeling, willing and disciplined thinking, a reasoned intellectuality, he makes the statement which can serve as motto for us in developing our soul-life, that for the human being reason should be the rose on the cross of the present.

• 44. The reference is likely to be to Johann Gottlieb Fichte, whose philosophy of the ego bases on the principle that the true ego, as the founding principle which determines subject and object, can never become object itself.
• 45. Wilhelm Wundt, 1832–1920. Philosopher.
• 46. Rudolf Steiner, The Education of the Child in the Light of Anthroposophy, Rudolf Steiner Press, London, 1980.
• 47. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust II, Act 1, Imperial Palace, 11.5063/64.
• 48. Cf. the Introduction to G.W.F. Hegel's Philosophy of Right. (Grundlinien einer Philosophie des Rechts oder Naturrecht und Staatswissenschaft im Grundriss).

Allow me to begin today's lecture with a personal recollection. As a quite young man, I once had a slight experience of the kind which seem unimportant and yet can yield pleasant memories again and again in later life.

I was attending a course of university lectures on the history of literature.⁴⁹ The lecturer began by considering the character of cultural life in the time of Lessing, with the intention of going on to discuss various literary developments during the later eighteenth century and part of the nineteenth. His opening words were deeply impressive. In order to characterise the chief innovation which appeared in the cultural life of Lessing's time, he said: “Artistic consciousness acquired an aesthetic conscience.” His lecture showed that what he meant by this statement—we need not now ask whether it was justified—was roughly as follows:

All the artistic considerations and intentions connected with the endeavours of Lessing and his contemporaries were imbued with a deeply earnest wish to make something more of art than a mere appendage to life or a mere pleasure among others. Art was to become a necessary element in every form of human existence worthy of the name. To raise art up to the level of a serious human concern, worthy to be heard in the concert of voices which speak of the great and fruitful activities of mankind—such was the aim of the pioneer thinkers of that period. That is what the lecturer wanted to say when he emphasised that an aesthetic conscience had found its way into the artistic and literary life of those times.

Why was this statement important for a soul seeking to grasp the riddles of existence, as reflected in one or another human mind? Because a conception of art was to be ennobled and given expression in a way that left no doubt as to its importance for the whole character and destiny of human life. The serious nature and significance of artistic work were intended to be placed beyond discussion, and it is indeed true that the experiences denoted by the word “conscience” are such that all the situations to which they apply are ennobled. In other words, when “conscience” is spoken of, the human soul recognises that the word refers to a most valuable element in its own life, and that to be without this element would indicate a serious deficiency.

How often has the significance of conscience been brought out by the words, no matter whether they are taken literally or metaphorically: “When conscience speaks in the human soul, it is the voice of God that speaks.” And one could scarcely find anyone, however unprepared to reflect on higher spiritual concerns, who has not formed some idea of what conscience is. Everyone feels vaguely that whatever conscience may be, it is experienced as a voice in the individual's breast which determines with irresistible power what is good and what is bad; what man must do in order to gain his own approval and what he must leave undone if he is not to despise himself. Hence we can say: Conscience appears to every individual as something holy in the human breast, and that to form some kind of opinion about it is relatively easy.

Things are different, however, if we glance briefly at man's history and his spiritual life. Anyone who is trying to look more deeply into a spiritual situation of this kind will surely wish to consult those in whom a knowledge of such matters may be presupposed—the philosophers. But in this case, as in so many others of wide human concern, he will find that the explanations of conscience given by various philosophers are very different, or so it seems, though a more or less obscure kernel is similar in all of them. But that is not the worst of it. If anyone were to take the trouble to inquire what the philosophers of ancient and modern times mean by conscience, he would be met with all sorts of very fine phrases and also by many that are hard to understand, but he would find nothing of which he could say beyond question that it reflected his feeling: that is conscience.

Of course it would lead us too far if I were to give you an anthology of the various explanations of conscience that have been given over the centuries by the philosophical leaders of mankind. But we may note that from about the first third of the Middle Ages and on through mediaeval philosophy, whenever conscience was spoken of, it was always said to be a power in the human soul which was capable of immediately declaring what a man should do and what he should leave undone. However, these mediaeval philosophers say also that underneath this power of the soul there is something else, something of finer quality than conscience itself. A personality often mentioned here, Meister Eckhart,⁵⁰ tells of a tiny spark that underlies conscience; an eternal element in the soul which, if it is heeded, declares with unmistakable power the laws of good and evil.

In modern times, we encounter once more the most varied accounts of conscience, including some which make a peculiar impression, for they clearly fail to recognise the serious nature of the divine inner voice that we call conscience. There are philosophers who say that conscience is something that a man acquires when, by extending continually his experience of life, he learns what is useful, harmful, satisfying and so on for himself. The sum of these experiences gives rise to a judgment which says: “Do this—don't do that.”

There are other philosophers who speak of conscience in terms of the highest praise. One of these is the great German philosopher, Johann Gottlieb Fichte, who pointed above all to the human ego not the transient personal ego but the eternal essence in man—as the fundamental principle of all human thought and being. At the same time, he held that the highest experience for the human ego was the experience of conscience,⁵¹ when a man hears the inward judgment: “This you must do, for it would go against your conscience not to do it.” The majesty and nobility of this judgment, he believed, could not be surpassed. And if Fichte was the philosopher who laid the strongest emphasis on the power and significance of the human ego, it is characteristic of him that he ranked conscience as the ego's most significant impulse.

The further we move on into modern times, and the more materialistic thinking becomes, the more do we find conscience deprived of its majesty—not in the human heart, but in the thinking of philosophers who are more or less imbued with materialism. One example will be enough to illustrate this trend.

In the second half of the 19th century, there lived a philosopher who for nobility of soul, harmonious human feelings and generous breadth of mind must rank with the finest personalities. I mean Bartholomew Carnieri:⁵² he is seldom mentioned now. If you go through his writings, you find that in spite of his fine qualities, he was deeply imbued with the materialistic thinking of his time. What, he asks, are we to make of conscience? Fundamentally, he says, it is no more than the sum of habits and judgments instilled in us during early youth and strengthened by the experience of life. These influences, of which we are no longer fully conscious, are the source of the inner voice which says: “This you must do—this you must not do,”

Thus the origin of conscience is traced back to external influences and habits, and even these are confined to a very narrow range. Some even more materialistically-minded philosophers of the 19th century have gone further still. Paul Ree,⁵³ for example, who at one time had great influence on Nietzsche, wrote on the origin of conscience. His book is interesting as a symptom of the outlook of our times. His ideas—allowing for some inevitable distortion of details in any brief sketch of them—are roughly as follows. Man, says Paul Ree, has developed in respect of all his faculties, and therefore in respect of conscience. Originally he had no trace of what we call conscience. It is gross prejudice to hold that conscience is eternal. A voice telling us what to do and what not to do did not exist originally, according to Ree. But in human nature there was something else which did develop—something we can call an instinct for revenge. This was the most primitive of all impulses. If anyone suffered at the hands of another, the instinct for revenge drove him to pay back the injury in kind. By degrees, as social life became more complicated, the carrying out of vengeance was handed over to the ruling authorities. So people came to believe that any deed which injured another person had by necessity to be followed by something that had previously been called vengeance. Certain deeds which had bad results had to be requited by other deeds. In the course of time, this conviction gave rise to an association of certain feelings with particular actions, or even with the temptation to commit them. The original urge for revenge was forgotten, but a feeling became ingrained in the human soul that a harmful action must be paid for. So now, when a man believes he is hearing an “inner voice”, this is in fact nothing but the voice of vengeance, changed into an inward form. Here we have an extreme example of this kind of interpretation—extreme in the sense that conscience is portrayed as a complete illusion.

On the other hand, we must admit that it is going much too far to assert, as some people do, that conscience has existed as long as human beings have been living on the earth; in other words, that conscience is in some sense eternal. Since mistakes are made both by those who think more spiritually about it, and by those who regard conscience as a pure illusion, it is very difficult to reach any agreement on the subject, although it belongs to our everyday inner life, and indeed to a sacred part of it.

A glance over the philosophers will show that in earlier times even the best of them thought of conscience differently from the way in which we are bound to think of it today. For when we say that conscience is a voice speaking out of a divine impulse in the breast of the simplest man, saying, “This you must do—that you must leave undone” this is somewhat different from the teaching we find in Socrates⁵⁴ and in his successor, Plato.⁵⁵ They both insist that virtue can be learnt. Socrates, indeed, says that if a man forms clear ideas as to what he should and should not do, then gradually, through this knowledge of what virtue is, he can learn to act virtuously.

Now one could easily object, from a modern standpoint, that things would go badly if we had to wait until we had learnt what is right and what is wrong before we could act virtuously. Conscience speaks with elemental power in the human soul and is heard by the individual as saying “This you must do, and that you must leave alone”, long before we learn to form ideas concerning good and evil and thus begin to formulate moral precepts. Moreover, conscience brings a certain tranquillity to the soul on occasions when a man can say to himself: “You have done something you can approve of.” It would be bad—many people might say—if we had to learn a lot about the nature and character of virtue in order to arrive at an agreed estimation of our behaviour. Hence we can say that the philosopher to whom we look up as a martyr of philosophy, whose death crowned and ennobled his philosophical work—I mean Socrates—sets before us a concept of virtue which hardly tallies with our view of conscience today: and even with later Greek thinkers we always find the assertion that perfect virtue is something that can be learnt, a doctrine not in keeping with the primitive, elemental, power of conscience.

How is it, then, that so pre-eminent and powerful a person as Socrates is not aware of the idea of conscience that we have today, although we feel whenever we approach him, as Plato describes him, that the purest morality and the highest degree of virtue speak through his words? The reason is, that the ideas, concepts and inward experiences which feel today as though they were innate, were in fact acquired laboriously by the human soul in the course of time. When we trace the spiritual life of humanity back into the past, we find that our idea of conscience and our feeling for it were not present in the same way in ancient times, and therefore not among the Greeks. Conscience, in fact, was born. But nothing about the birth of conscience can be learnt by the easy methods of external experience and scholarship, as Paul Ree, for example, tried to do. We have to go more deeply into the matter if we are to gain enlightenment for the human soul.

Now our task in these lectures has been precisely to illuminate the constitution of the soul, with the aid of the light that comes from raising the soul to higher levels of knowledge. The whole life of the soul has been described, as it reveals itself to the inner eye of the seer: the eye which does not gain knowledge of the sense-world only, but looks behind the veil of the sense-world into the region where the primary sources, the spiritual foundations of the sense-world are to be found. And it has repeatedly been shown—for example in the lecture, “What is Mysticism?”—that the consciousness of the seer opens the way into deeper regions of the soul, over and above the soul-life we experience in everyday life. We believe that even in ordinary life we come to know something of this deeper level when we look into ourselves and encounter the experiences of thinking, feeling and willing. But it was pointed out also, that in ordinary waking consciousness the soul reveals only the outer aspect of the spiritual. Just as we have to penetrate behind the veil that is spread over the sense-world if we are to discover the underlying causes of these appearances as they are revealed behind everything we see and hear and our brain apprehends, so we must look behind our thinking, feeling and willing, and thus behind our ordinary inner life, if we are to get to know the spiritual background of our own lives.

From these starting-points, we set out to throw light on the life of the human soul in its many interwoven branches. We saw that it must be conceived as made up of three members which must be distinguished but not—please note—treated as quite separate from one another. We named these three members the sentient soul, the intellectual soul and the consciousness soul, and we saw how the ego is the unifying point which holds the three members together, plays on them as though on the strings of an instrument, causing them to sound together in the most varied ways, harmonious or dissonant. This activity of the ego developed by gradual stages, and we shall understand how our present-day consciousness and soul-life have evolved from primeval times if we glance at what man can become in the future, or even today, if from within the consciousness soul he develops a higher, clairvoyant form of consciousness.

The consciousness soul in its ordinary condition enables us to grasp the external world perceived through our senses. If anyone wishes to penetrate behind the veil of the sense-world, he must raise his soul-life to a higher level. Then he makes the great discovery that something like an awakening of the soul can occur—something comparable to the outcome of a successful operation on a man blind from birth, when a hitherto unknown world of light and colour breaks in upon him. So it is with someone who by appropriate methods raises his soul to a higher level of development. A moment comes when those elements in our environment which we normally ignored, although they are swarming around us all the time, enter into our soul-life as a wealth of beings and activities because we have acquired a new organ of perception for them.

When someone achieves by training, a conscious seership of this kind, his ego is completely present throughout. This means that he moves among spiritual facts and beings, on which our sense-world is based, just as he finds his way among chairs and tables in the physical world: and he now takes up into a higher sphere of soul-life the ego which had led him through his experiences of sentient soul, intellectual soul and consciousness soul.

Let us now turn back from this clairvoyant consciousness, which is illuminated and set aglow by the ego, to the ordinary life of the soul. The ego is alive in the most varied ways in the three soul-members. If we have a man whose life is given over to the desires, passions and instinctive urges that arise from his sentient soul, we can say that his ego is hardly at all active; it is like a feeble flame in the midst of the surging waves of the sentient soul and has little power against them. In the intellectual soul the ego gains some freedom and independence.

Here man comes to himself and so to some awareness of his ego, for the intellectual soul can develop only in so far as man reflects upon and elaborates, in inner tranquillity, the experiences that have come to him through the sentient soul. The ego becomes more and more radiant and at last achieves full clarity in the consciousness soul. Then a man can say to himself: “I have grasped myself—I have attained real self-consciousness.” This degree of clarity can be activated by the ego only when it has reached the stage of working in the consciousness soul, after progressing from the sentient soul through the intellectual soul.

If, however, a human being can further rise in his ego to clairvoyant consciousness beyond the consciousness soul, comparable to yet higher soul-principles, we can well understand that the seer, looking back over the course of human evolution, should say to us: just as the ego rises in this way to higher states of soul, so did it enter the sentient soul from a subordinate condition. We have seen how the soul-members sentient soul, intellectual soul and consciousness soul—are related to the members of his bodily organisation—physical body, etheric and astral or sentient body. Hence you will find it understandable that as spiritual science indicates—the ego, before rising to the sentient soul, was active in the sentient body, and earlier still in the etheric and physical bodies. In those times the ego still guided man from outside. It held sway in the darkness of bodily life; man was not yet able to say “I” regarding himself, to find the central point of his own being within himself. What are we to think of this ego which held sway in the primeval past and built up man's exterior bodily organisation? Are we to regard it as less perfect, compared with the ego we bear within our souls today?

We look on our ego as the real inner focus of our being: it endows us with inner life, and is capable, through schooling, of endless progress in the future. We see in it the epitome of our human nature and the guarantor of our human dignity. Now when we were not yet aware of this ego, while it was working on us from out of the dark spiritual powers of the world, was it then less perfect, by comparison with what it is now? Only a quite abstract way of thinking could say so.

Consider our physical body; we look on it as having been formed out of the spiritual world in the primordial past as a dwelling for the human soul. Only a materialistic mind could believe that this human body had not been born originally from the spirit. Seen merely from an external point of view, the physical body must appear a miracle of perfection. What do all our intellectual ability and technical skill amount to, compared with the wisdom manifest in the structure of the human heart? Or take the engineering technique that goes into the building of bridges, and so forth—what is it compared with the construction of the human thigh-bone, with its wonderful crisscross of support members, as seen through the microscope. It would be sheer boundless arrogance for man to suppose that he has attained in the slightest degree to the wisdom inherent in the formation of the external physical body. And consider our soul-life, taking into account only our instincts, desires and passions—how do they function? Are we not doing all we can to undermine inwardly the wisdom-filled organisation of our body? Indeed, if we consider without prejudice the marvel of our physical organisation, we have to admit that our bodily structure is far wiser than anything we can show in our inner life, although we may hope that our inner life will advance from its present imperfection towards increasing perfection. We can hardly come to any other conclusion, even without clairvoyance, if we simply look impartially at the observable facts.

Is not this wise activity, which has built up the human body as a dwelling-place for the ego, bound to have something in common with the nature of the ego itself? Must we not think of this formative power as having the character of an immeasurably more advanced ego? We must say: Something related to our ego has worked during primordial times at building a structure which the ego could come to inhabit. Anyone who refuses to believe this may imagine something different, but then he must also suppose that an ordinary house, built for human habitation, has not been designed by a human mind but has been put together merely by the action of natural forces. One assumption is as true as the other. Thus we look back to a primordial past where a spiritual power endowed with an ego-nature of unlimited perfection worked upon our bodily sheaths. In those times our own ego was hidden in subconscious depths, thence it worked its way up to its present state of consciousness.

If we look at this evolution from the far-distant past, when the ego was hidden within its sheaths as though in the darkness of a mother's womb, we find that although the ego had no knowledge of itself, it was all the closer to those spiritual beings who worked on our bodily vehicles and were related to the human ego, but of incomparably greater perfection. Clairvoyant insight thus looks back to a far-distant past when man had not yet acquired ego-consciousness, for he was embedded in spiritual life itself, and when his soul-life, too, was different, for it was much closer to the soul-forces from which the ego has emerged. In those times, also, we find in man a primal clairvoyant consciousness which functioned dimly and dreamily, for it was not illumined by the light of an ego; and it was from this mode of consciousness that the ego first came forth. The faculty that man in the future will acquire with his ego was present in the primeval past without the ego. Clairvoyant consciousness entails that spiritual beings and spiritual facts are seen in the environment, and this applies to early man, although his clairvoyance was dreamlike and he beheld the spiritual world as though in a dream. Since he was not yet shone through by an ego, he was not obliged to remain within himself when he wished to behold the spiritual. He beheld the spiritual around him and looked on himself as part of the spiritual world; and whatever he did was imbued, for him, with a spiritual character. When he thought of something, he could not have said to himself, “I am thinking”, as a man might do today; his thought stood before his clairvoyant vision. And to experience a feeling he had no need to look into himself; his feeling radiated from him and united him with his whole spiritual environment.

Such was the soul-life of man in primordial times. From out of his dreamlike clairvoyant consciousness he had to develop inwardly in order to come to himself, and in himself to that centre of his being which today is still imperfect but will advance ever more nearly towards perfection in the future, when man with his ego will step forth into the spiritual world.

Now if light is thrown on those primordial times by means of clairvoyance in the way already described, what does the seer tell us concerning the human consciousness of those times when a man had, for example, committed an evil deed? His deed did not present itself to him as something he could inwardly assess. He beheld it, with all its harmfulness and shamefulness, as a ghostly vision confronting his soul. And when a feeling concerning his evil deed arose in his soul, the shamefulness of it came before him as a spiritual reality, so that he was as though surrounded by a vision of the evil he had wrought.

Then, in the course of time, this dreamlike clairvoyance faded and man's ego came increasingly to the fore. In so far as man found this central point of his being within himself, the old clairvoyance was extinguished and self-consciousness established itself more and more clearly. The vision he had previously had of his bad and good deeds was transposed into his inner life, and deeds once clairvoyantly beheld were mirrored in his soul.

Now what sort of forms were beheld in dreamy clairvoyance as the counterpart of man's evil deed? They were pictures whereby the spiritual powers around him showed how he had disturbed and disrupted the cosmic order, and they were intended to have a salutary effect. It was a counteraction by the Gods, who wished to raise him up and, by showing him the effect of his deed, to enable him to eliminate its harmful consequences. This was indeed a terrifying experience for him, but it was fundamentally beneficial, coming as it did from the cosmic background out of which man himself had emerged. When the time came for man to find in himself his ego-centre, the external vision was transferred to his soul in the form of a reflected picture. When the ego first makes its appearance in the sentient soul, it is weak and frail, and man first has to work slowly upon himself in order that his ego may gradually advance towards perfection. Now what would have happened if, when the external clairvoyant vision of the effects of his misdeeds had disappeared, it had not been replaced by an inward counterpart of its beneficial influence? With his still frail ego, he would have been torn to and fro in his sentient soul by his passions, as though in a surging boundless sea. What, then, was it that was transferred at this historic moment from the external world to the inner life of the soul? If it was the great cosmic Spirit that had brought the harmful effects of a man's deed before his clairvoyant consciousness as a healing influence, showing him what he had to make good, so, later on, it was the same cosmic Spirit that powerfully revealed itself in his inner life at a time when his ego was still weak. Having previously spoken to man through a clairvoyant vision, the cosmic Spirit withdrew into man's inner life and imparted to him what had to be said about correcting the distortion caused in the world-order. Man's ego is still weak, and the cosmic Spirit keeps a perpetual, unsleeping watch over it and passes judgment where the ego could not yet judge. Behind the weak ego stands something like a reflection of the powerful cosmic Spirit which had formerly shown to man through clairvoyant vision the consequences of his deeds. And this reflection is now experienced by him as conscience watching over him.

So we see how true it is when conscience is naively described as the voice of God in man. At the same time we see how spiritual science points to the moment when external vision became inward experience and conscience was born.

What I have now been saying can be drawn purely from the spiritual world. No external history is required; the facts I have described are seen by the inward eye. Anyone who can see them will experience them as incontestable truths, but a certain necessity of the times may lead us to ask: Could external history perhaps reveal something that would confirm, in this case, the facts seen by inner vision?

The findings of clairvoyant consciousness can always be tested by external evidence, and there is no need to fear that the evidence will contradict them. That could seem to happen only if the testing were inexact. But we will give one example that can show how external facts confirm the statements here derived from clairvoyant insight.

It is not so very long since the time when the birth of conscience can be seen to occur. If we look back to the fifth and sixth centuries BC, we encounter in ancient Greece the great dramatic poet Aeschylus,⁵⁶ and in his work we find a theme which is especially remarkable for the reason that the same subject was treated by a late Greek poet in a quite different way.

Aeschylus shows us how Agamemnon, on returning from Troy, is killed by his wife, Klytemnestra, when he arrives home. Agamemnon is avenged by his son Orestes, who, acting on the advice of the gods, kills his mother. What, then, is the consequence for Orestes of this deed? Aeschylus shows how the burden of matricide calls forth in Orestes a mode of seeing which was no longer normal in those times. The enormity of his crime caused the old clairvoyance to awake in him, like an inheritance from the past. Orestes could say: “Apollo, the god himself, told me it was a just act for me to avenge my father upon my mother. Everything I have done speaks in my favour. But the blood of my mother is working on!” And in the second part of the Orestean trilogy we are powerfully shown how the old clairvoyance awakens in Orestes and how the avenging goddesses, the Erinyes—or Furies, as they were later called by the Romans—approach.

Orestes sees before him, in dreamlike clairvoyance, the effect of his act of matricide in its external form. Apollo had approved the deed; but there is something higher. Aeschylus wished to indicate that a still higher cosmic ordinance obtains, and this he could do only by making Orestes become clairvoyant at that moment, for he had not yet gone far enough to dramatise what today we call an inner voice. If we study his work, we feel that he was at the stage when something like conscience ought to emerge from the whole content of the human soul, but he never quite reached that point. He confronts Orestes with dreamlike, clairvoyant pictures that have not yet been transformed into conscience. Yet we can see how he is on the verge of recognising conscience. Every word that he gives to Klytemnestra, for example, makes one feel unmistakably that he ought to indicate the idea of conscience in its present-day sense; but he never quite gets that far. In that century, the great poet could only show how bad deeds rose up before the human soul in earlier times.

Now we will pass over Sophocles and come to Euripides,⁵⁷ who described the same situation only a generation later. Scholars have rightly pointed out—though spiritual science alone can show this in its true light—that in Euripides the dream-pictures experienced by Orestes are no more than shadowy images of the inward promptings of conscience—somewhat as in Shakespeare. Here we have palpable evidence of the stages whereby the idea of conscience was taken hold of by the art of poetry. We see how Aeschylus, great poet as he was, cannot yet speak of conscience itself, while his successor, Euripides, does speak of it. With this development in mind, we can see why human thinking in general could work its way only slowly towards a true conception of conscience. The force now active in conscience was active also in ancient times; the pictures showing the effects of a man's deeds rose before his clairvoyant sight. The only difference is that this force became internalised; but before it could be inwardly experienced, the whole process of human development, which led gradually to the concept of conscience, had to take its course.

Thus we see in conscience a faculty which comes to the fore by degrees and has to be acquired by man's own endeavours. Where, then, should we look for this most intense activity of conscience? At that point where the human ego was beginning to make itself known and was still weak, that is something which can be shown in human development. In ancient Greece it had already advanced to the stage of the intellectual soul. But if we look further back to Egypt and Chaldea outer history knows nothing of this, but Plato and Aristotle were clairvoyantly aware of it—we find that even the highest culture of those times was achieved without the presence of an inwardly independent ego. The difference between the knowledge that was nurtured and put to use by the sanctuaries of Egypt and Chaldea and our modern science is that our science is grasped by the consciousness soul, whereas in pre-Hellenic times it all depended on inspirations from the sentient soul. In ancient Greece the ego progressed from the sentient soul into the intellectual soul. Today we are living in the epoch of the consciousness soul, which means that a real ego-consciousness arises for the first time. Anyone who studies the evolution of mankind, and in particular the transition from eastern to western culture, can see how human progress has been marked by ever-increasing feelings of freedom and independence. Whereas man had formerly felt himself entirely dependent on the Gods and the inspirations that came from them, in the West, culture first came to spring from the inner life.

This is especially evident, for example, in the way Aeschylus strives to bring about a consciousness of the ego in the human soul. We see him standing on the frontier between East and West, with one eye on the East and the other on the West, gathering from the human soul the elements that will come together to form the concept of conscience. He strives to give this new form of conscience a dramatic embodiment, but is not yet quite able to do so. Comparisons are apt to be confusing; we must not only compare, but also distinguish. The point is, that in the West everything was designed to raise the ego from the sentient soul to the consciousness soul. In the East the ego was veiled in obscurity and had no freedom. In the West, by contrast, the ego works its way up into the consciousness soul. If the old dreamlike clairvoyance is extinguished, everything else tends to awaken the ego and to evoke conscience as guardian of the ego as a divine inner voice. Aeschylus was the corner-stone between the worlds of East and West.

In the Eastern World men had retained a living awareness of their origin in the divine cosmic Spirit, and this made it possible for them to gain understanding of the event which took place a few hundred years after endeavours had been made by many—or Aeschylus for example—to find something that spoke as the voice of God within themselves. For this event brought to mankind the impulse which from all spiritual standpoints must be seen as the greatest impulse ever to enter into the evolution of the earth and man—the impulse we call the Christ-Impulse.

It was the Christ-impulse that first made it possible for humanity to realise that God, the Creator of things and of the external sheaths of man, can be recognised in our inward life. Only by understanding the divine humanity of Christ Jesus were men enabled to understand that the voice of God could be heard within the soul. In order that men should be able to find something of the divine nature in their own inner life, it was necessary for Christ to enter into the evolution of humanity as an external historical-event. If the Christ, a Divine Being, had not been present in the body of Jesus of Nazareth, if he had not shown once and for all that God can be discerned in our inner life, because he had once been present in a human body; if he had not appeared as the conqueror of death through the Mystery of Golgotha, men would never have been able to comprehend the indwelling of Divinity in the human soul.

If anyone claims that this indwelling could be discerned even if there had been no historical Christ Jesus, he could equally well say that we should have eyes even if there were no sun. As against this one-sided view of some philosophers that, since without eyes we could not see the light, the origin of light must be traced to the eyes, we must always set Goethe's aphorism: The eye is created by light for light.⁵⁸ If there were no sun to fill space with light, no eyes would ever have developed in the human organism. The eyes are created by light, and without the sun there would be no eyes. No eye is capable of perceiving the sun without having first received from the sun the power to do so. In the same way, there could be no power to grasp and recognise the Christ-nature if the Christ-Impulse had not entered into external history. What the sun out there in the cosmos does for human sight, so the historical Christ-Jesus makes possible what we call the entry of the divine nature into our inner life.

The elements necessary for understanding this were present in the stream of thought that came over from the East; they needed only to be raised to a higher level. It was in the West that souls were ripe to grasp and accept this impulse—the West, where experiences which had belonged to the outer world were transferred to the inner life most intensively, and in the form of conscience watched over a generally weak ego. In this way souls were strengthened, and prepared to hear the voice of conscience now saying within them: The Divinity who appeared in the East to those able to look clairvoyantly into the world—this Divinity now lives in us!

However, what was thus being prepared could not have become conscious experience if the inward Divinity had not spoken in advance in the dawning of conscience. So we see that external understanding for the Divinity of Christ Jesus was born in the East, and the emergence of conscience came to meet it from the West. For example, we find that conscience is more and more often spoken of in the Roman world, at the beginning of the Christian era, and the further westward we go, the clearer is the evidence for the recognised existence of conscience or for its presence in embryonic form.

Thus East and West played into each other's hands. We see the sun of the Christ-nature rising in the East, while in the West the development of conscience is preparing the way for understanding the Christ. Hence the victorious advance of Christianity is towards the West, not the East. In the East we see the spread of a religion which represents the final consequence—though on the highest level—of the eastern outlook: Buddhism takes hold of the eastern world. Christianity takes hold of the western world, because Christianity had first created the organ for receiving it. Here we see Christianity brought into relation with the deepened element in western culture: the concept of conscience embodied in Christianity.

Not through the study of external history, but only through an inward contemplation of the facts, shall we come to knowledge of these developments. What I am saying today will be met with disbelief by many people. But a demand of the times is that we should recognise the spirit in external phenomena. This, however, is possible only if we are at least able initially to discern the spirit where it speaks to us in the form of a clear message. Popular consciousness says: When conscience speaks, it is God speaking in the soul. The highest spiritual consciousness says that when conscience speaks, it is truly the cosmic Spirit speaking. And spiritual science brings out the connection between conscience and the greatest event in the evolution of mankind, the Christ-Event. Hence it is not surprising that conscience has thereby been ennobled and raised to a higher sphere. When we hear that something has been done for reasons of conscience, we feel that conscience is regarded as one of the most important possessions of mankind.

Thus we can see how natural and right it is for the human heart to speak of conscience as “God in man”. And when Goethe says that the highest experience for man is when “God-Nature reveals itself to him”, we must realise that God can reveal himself in the spirit to man only if Nature is seen in the light of its spiritual background. This has been provided for in human evolution, on the one hand by the light of Christ, shining from outside, and on the other by the divine light within us: the light of conscience. Hence a philosopher such as Fichte, who studies human character, is justified in saying that conscience is the highest voice in our inward life. On this account, also, we are aware that our dignity as human beings is inseparable from conscience. We are human beings because we have an ego-consciousness; and the conscience we have at our side is also at the side of our ego. Thus we look on conscience as a most sacred individual possession, inviolable by the external world, whose voice enables us to determine our direction and our goal. When conscience speaks, no other voice may intrude.

So it is that on one side conscience ensures our connection with the primordial power of the world and on the other guarantees the fact that in our inmost self we have something like a drop flowing from the Godhead. And man can know: When conscience speaks in him, it is a God speaking.

• 49. Held by his teacher and friend Karl Julius Schröer, 1825–1900. Cf. also Rudolf Steiner's remarks in the lecture of 29th October 1914 in Berlin, in: Aus schicksaltragender Zeit, Rudolf Steiner Verlag, Dornach, Switzerland. (GA 64)
• 50. See notes 14 and 13.
• 51. See J.G. Fichte, Die Bestimmung des Menschen, 1800, Book 3: Glaube.
• 52. Bartholomew Carnieri, 1821–1909. Cf. his characterisation of conscience in the introduction to Der moderne Mensch. Versuch einer Lebensführung, Stuttgart, 1904.
• 53. Paul Ree, 1849–1901. Die Entstehung des Gewissens, Berlin, 1885.
• 54. Socrates, 470–399 B.C.
• 55. Plato, 427–347 B.C.
• 56. Aeschylus, 525–456 B.C., in his Oresteia trilogy.
• 57. >Euripides, c. 480–406 B.C., deals with this subject in Electra and in Orestes.<
• 58. See note 4.

The idea of development, which has become common in more recent times, does not truly consider the phenomena to which it is applied in terms of their main characteristics. Thus, when development is used to consider a connection between humanity and animality, the first question is not: How can the human being be imagined? It is taken too simply. It is not considered that the head, for example, must be grasped by completely different ideas than the rest of the organism. The head, if thought about correctly, represents so much of what is connected with the essence of the human being that the rest of the organism can be thought of as a limb attached to the head, into which the processes of transforming air and food are transferred. It is as if the head is to be relieved of these intraorganic processes. This idea, developed, would lead to seeing in the organization of the head the indication of an older form of human development that also included the organs for the transformation of air and food, and which then, through development towards the soul-spiritual side, separated these organs out as appendages. The same cannot be said of animals, not even of the more highly developed ones. In them, the head appears so much as a part of the whole organism that the latter must be spoken of as the whole animal. One can only say of man that he adds the animal to himself in order to relieve the head of what is essential to it. This leads to the idea that man is by nature older than animals; that he has added to his organization that of animality at a stage in his development, in order to ascend as a head being to a level of his essence that he could only reach by doing so.

Furthermore, this thought leads to the recognition that the living conditions in which the human being was when it had not yet added animal nature to itself were different from those that came later. For if they had been the same, the “human” head would have had to have degenerated into the animal form under their influence even then. These living conditions cannot have been the present earthly ones. For these bring man precisely in the animal direction of development. But his head shows another.

The question arises: What causes this other direction of development of the head being “human”? An unbiased consideration of the main characteristics of the head also teaches us about this. One must find it more mineralized than the rest of the organism. The mineralization of the organism, which ultimately ends in the bone system, is most comprehensively expressed in the head. And it is nothing other than this mineralization that pushes the initial organs of respiration and metabolism out of the head. In the animal head, this mineralization is far less advanced. But this leads us to ask: what predominates in the animal head in terms of mineralization? Unbiased observation shows that this is the vegetable aspect. The human head acquires its essence by progressing from the vegetable to the mineral. This leads us to think of it at an earlier stage of development in the stage of stronger vegetable development. The later vegetabilization of the animal head corresponds to an animalization of its entire being. Thus, the earlier stage of humanity must also show the human being as a head being in a stronger animalization than it is today. Today's conditions cause the degree of mineralization that is now characteristic of the human being. These conditions could not have been present when he was a mere head being. One must think of the state of the earth with the present conditions as having been preceded by another, which did not yet have the impact of the mineral forces that are bringing about the present state of humanity. Neither the present human forms nor the present animal forms could have lived within this state. Beings lived that held the middle between the present human and the present animal. Beings that could become human if they were able to absorb mineralization and that sank deeper into animality if they could not do so. The latter, which are the ancestors of the present animals, only formed as a whole organization what man added as initial links.

Now, through mineralization, man's spiritual element approaches him. This lives in him as his independent spiritual being by mineralizing part of his physical being. The animal does not have this spiritual being because it cannot mineralize itself to the same extent as man. By absorbing it, man experiences an independent spiritual being within himself, which is itself the opposite of the spiritual [in its organization]. He must extract the spirit from its organization in order to experience it as an independent being. In an earlier stage of development, the spirit permeated the animal's organization to a greater extent; in the present stage, the spirit permeates the organization to a lesser extent, but the human being is its participant. The animal is not able to experience the spirit living in its organization as spirit through itself.

The older intermediate forms between humans and animals were, on the whole, those in which spirit only permeated their organization. The ancestors of the present-day animals continued this relationship in the present-day conditions; to the old developmental conditions, the human being added others that brought about his spiritualization. The external living conditions that correspond to this spiritualization are those that the human being has around him as his world of the senses. What the human being observes as such a sensory world around him, he experiences externally through perception; inwardly, it asserts itself in his mineralization process. Animal nature is excluded from both. It remains inwardly more plant-like than the human being; and it does not exclude its sensory organs to such an extent from this more plant-like organism that the external world can be experienced through them to the same degree as it can by the human being. Thus animal life is much more than human life organically closed in itself; it does not participate in the external world to the same degree as man. Animal life is soul-life; human life is soul-spiritual life. The animal shapes its organism in soul-life and lives with it in the world as soul; man shapes his organism in spiritual life and lives with it in the world as spirit.

Insightful knowledge guides us in all these matters. There is more spiritual in the head of a human being than in the rest of the organism. The head is permeated by the insight of the spiritual of the rest of the organism. It stands out from the spiritual of the rest of the organism. In the course of a human life, the head of a child is more spiritual than that of a mature person; and the head of an old person shows a spirituality that is quite different from that of the rest of the organism. For those who can see these conditions, the earlier stage of the whole development of humanity is just as much a part of them as the childhood of a person is part of the sensory view. For beings who still actualize this earlier human stage today are present for the observing consciousness. These beings do not participate in the mineral process of the earth. Nothing of the mineral substance penetrates into their organization. They cannot be perceived by the senses. But they are perceived when the rhythm, which is unconscious in human life, is raised into consciousness. Then they are recognized as souls that are on the way to becoming human spirits. Man was such a soul before he became the spirit-soul that he is at present. But he could only be it when the earth was not yet endowed with the mineral impulses of the present. When it developed vegetable impulses instead of these. Man was then not yet man, but an ancestral being of the earth. It worked as a whole in the same way as a vegetable formation works today. It did not yet show the mineral impulse. One can say that man was then just as much an animal as he was not an animal. For he developed the present form of his animality only later.

In that man fashions his animality under the influence of the organization of his head, the latter becomes different from what it could become through the conditions which in earthly life directly shape the animality in animals. Careful observation, attentive in the deeper sense, shows the following as the main characteristic of the human being in this respect: Man is placed in the world by different balances of power than the animal. The weight pressure of his head is in a different direction to the line that passes through his center of gravity than in the animal. Attention must be paid to the fact that in judging what is considered here, it is not the temporary position of the human being that is considered, but the expression of these balances of power in his lasting form. In this form, the relationship between the brain and spinal cord, which distinguishes humans from animals, is expressed. But the relationship of the hands and arms to the feet and legs also comes out of the same balance of power in the revelation. The human being experiences this balance of power with all its consequences in a dull consciousness as that which carries his 'I'. And by standing face to face with another person, he perceives their 'I' directly in this form. Both perceptions, that of one's own ego and that of the other person's ego, live at the bottom of ordinary consciousness like the experiences of sleep consciousness. Only that the latter alternates with ordinary consciousness, the dull consciousness of the “I” always accompanies this ordinary consciousness. A second thing is this: the thought prevailing in the animal organization finds expression in the animal form. In the human form, it is not the thought that is expressed, but the equilibrium just described. Because in the animal the thought flows completely into the organic form, the animal does not have the faculty of thinking as a special power of the soul. What is formed in the manifold forms of the animal world into a sensory revelation: the human being carries it within him in a formless way, as a living weaving of his thinking. And this living weaving becomes the bearer of his soul. The animal soul lives, as it were, solidified in the animal form; the human soul lives a life of its own, free of the body and formless. The third consideration is that the animal's emotional life only flares up in response to its inhibited or uninhibited will. The human being can separate the emotional life from the will. In the human being, feeling develops into a way of life connected with the continuous experience of his body, while in the animal it is a temporary inner revelation of the experience of inhibited or uninhibited will. It is in this interpenetration of the body with the independent element of feeling that the difference between human and animal corporeality lies. And it is in the sphere of the body, so to speak, impregnated with the life of feeling, that the origin of memory also lies. Because feeling separates from the will in this way in the human being, the will is again separated from the organization of one's own body to a much greater degree than in the animal. The animal is connected soulfully with the results of its will, the human being spiritually. The animal directly involves its body in its volition, while the human being only involves that which is separated from the body, so to speak, as a physical precipitation. In perceptive experiences, this is revealed in such a way that the human being is conscious of standing, with his volition transforming into action, as a spiritual being in the same world in which he stands through experiencing the equilibrium with his ego. As a spirit, man lives in the perception of the balance of the world and in his actions determined by his will. As a soul, he lives in his thinking, which reveals an existence separate from him in the forms of the animal world, and in his feeling; as a body, he experiences this feeling and as a body, he is part of his will. In willing, the spirit physically places itself in the world; in feeling, it lives in it as an organic process; in thinking, the soul frees itself from the body; in the “I”, the human being becomes aware of himself as spirit. In animals, thinking, which lives in meaningful forms, directly causes the form; not through its own thinking, but through the content of this form, it permeates feeling and thus the physical body, which in turn is directly connected to the external world, in that what is experienced in feeling is in truth only inhibited or uninhibited will.

In that the human being has developed the animalistic as an appendage, its outer form carries an ambiguity. As a head being, the human being is in fact only the confluence of all animal forms. He is, as such, the entire animal world as a unity. For him, the head is what the external world is for the animal. This remaining organism is actually only a reflection of the head, but one that is removed from what is determined by the characterized balance. In the head, the firmly shaping and contouring element of thinking is anchored; in the rest of the organism, that which sets this thinking in motion. Nothing of feeling is anchored in the head except the continuous dream of this feeling, while feeling itself has its carrier in the rest of the body. And as for the will, the organism of the head can only produce a dreamless, dull consciousness of sleep for it, for the will has as its vehicle the qualitative state of equilibrium between the rest of the organism and the outer world. Therefore, the will can only shine forth before the ordinary consciousness to the extent that the person perceives the way in which it brings him into ever-changing relationships with the outer world.

For the seeing consciousness, the result of the will is again felt directly, but as an experience outside of the body, not in the sense that the inhibition or furtherance of the will expresses itself in one's own body, but insofar as the will can be seen as hindering or furthering the world; feeling becomes the soul-sensual expression of thoughts; thoughts appear as a spirit full of content. Through the spirit, which is full of content, the beholder experiences the world as imagination; through the thoughts of the soul-bearing feeling, the world is experienced as inspiration; through the will, which is connected to feeling again, the world is experienced through intuition. The animal is an imagination fixed in the sensual through its form; its soul is inspired to it, and its body is a realized intuition. In man, the I penetrates into imagination, thinking into inspiration, feeling into intuition, and the objective spirit that lifts him out of animality into will.

An external comparison of man with the animal does not yield any knowledge. For what can still be perceived in the animal can only be seen supernaturally in the human being: the formative world of thought. What is still physical in the animal is soul-physical in the human being: the bearer of the emotional world; what is still experienced in the animal in the body is experienced by the human being in his relationship to the external world, his changing qualitative equilibrium with the external world.

For the external observer, there are basically only hints of what is going on. Compare the physiognomy of the animal with that of the human being. The animal is entirely physiognomy, and a specific one at that. In the human being, the physiognomic aspect stands out from the formation and becomes a reflection in the countenance of what the released thought is able to bring to the formation, which is expressed in the balanced relationship between the head and the rest of the organism. In the animal, the soul is bound to what the body experiences through its organization. And feeling is part of this experience. In the human being, the independent soul reveals itself in everything between laughing and speaking, between crying and the wide range of gestures expressing displeasure. In animals, the will is a direct result of the bodily organization and its determination by the external world. In the human being, the experience of the external world becomes decisive for the will. In the will, the human being disconnects his bodily organization. Through his volition, he accomplishes what has nothing to do with his bodily organization. The difference between humans and animals only becomes apparent when we are able to recognize what the forces at work in humans are outside of humans: the power of thought is the force that shapes the animal forms.

What is the power of feeling?

Self-observation shows that its seat is in the body. In the human being it lives as the soul within the body. In the human being, it takes the desiring element out of the animal will. In this way, feeling is experienced in the body, but not merely as inhibited or uninhibited desire (will). It is the bringing forth of that within the body which the animal's desire-nature does not have. It is a soul counter-image of the plant life that lives in human feeling. What is characterized in the above as vegetabilization in the animal, lives in the animal directly bound to the animal, but in the human being it separates soulfully from the animal and is experienced as liberated feeling. The will lives in the mineralized in the human being, while in the animal it is bound to the vegetabilized. The animal has a will organism; the human being separates a will mechanism from this will organism. The animal has a form organism; the human being separates the thought organism from this form organism. The thought organism interacts with the perception mechanism; the will mechanism is actually only the part of the external world found in the human being. In the mechanism of will, the human being does not belong to himself; he is in it as a spirit in the external world. In the emotional organism, the human being is present as a soul-inspired spirit; in the thought organism, he is present as a head-body, but this body is actually a knowing experience of the physical, so it is a spiritual body. In the consciousness of self, the spirit lives in the conditions of equilibrium determined by the human element. It lives in the physical, but only through the forces active in the physical. [Text aborts]

Note 1732-1735, undated, c. 1904

1.) Dreams are an influence of the spiritual on the human soul. The dreamer is the human being as a soul being. What the dreamer perceives, however, are the after-effects of his life in his formative forces body. In a dream, the human being is cut off from his physical surroundings and from his own physical body, just as he is in a real sleep. The dream shows the meaning of life in the physical world. This world provides the logical and the moral. Therefore, in a dream, man is neither logical nor moral. One should not describe a dream as a mental disorder. This disorder consists precisely in the fact that the supersensible aspect of dreaming takes hold of the body without the control of spiritual self-awareness. In a dream, the eternal is at work, but it is directed towards the temporal. It depends on the drama of the dream.

2.) In hallucination, unlike in dreams, there is not a spiritual-mental but a physical-mental appearance. The person is given over to the body. Instead of the whole body being used as a mediator to generate the perceptions, only part of the body is used. In the hallucination, the temporal is active, but this temporal dares to approach the eternal: that which should only be active in the creation of the human body itself.

3.) The somnambulist has infected his sensory life and sometimes - as a medium - his will life from the soul-bodily organs. He has become a physical and mental automaton. This results in an imitation of the spiritual. The temporal dares to approach the eternal; but in a way that should only be conveyed through sensory perception and through the willful misuse of will impulses that are only justified in interaction with beings of the physical world. Mediums sin against the common good; they act like someone who, for example, uses a substance that he has received as a gift for a crowd to adorn his own personality.

4) The artistic is related to the dream-like; but it differs from it in that the dreamer focuses on the temporal aspect of his own life, while the artist's soul is turned towards the spiritual, the eternal. The artist translates his spiritual experiences into the soul, but not into the activities that underlie the imagination and the will. He can do this because he only refers to that in the spirit which corresponds to his individual contemplation.

5.) The Contemplative Consciousness lifts the spiritual into the ordinary life that every human being has. One's own spirit stands in relation to the spiritual world. The experiences of the Contemplative Consciousness:

1.) cannot be remembered in the usual sense. Only when they are converted into representations;
2.) they do not become stronger in repetition like the habitually acquired representations and actions;
3.) they must be experienced with presence of mind.

Man is in relationship with a spiritual world. The beings of this world are not bodily-soul-spiritual like humans, but soul-spiritual. But within this world of the spiritual-soul there are levels, realms, as in the sensory world: the realm that has to do with the subconscious of the individual human being is active in his animal life; the realm that is active in his vegetative processes; the realm that is active in his mineral nature. This brings us to the unconscious of world-becoming. The original states were those that were more spiritual than the later ones.

1.) The dreamer has a reciprocal relationship with the being that serves him to guide his soul in the spiritual world.

2.) The somnambulist enters into a reciprocal relationship with an unjustified spirit world; the hallucinator with the 'human instinctual world'; the perceiving and acting somnambulist with the external world, which should legitimately only be experienced through sensory perception and influenced by the physical work of the will.

Goethe:

When the healthy nature of man works as a whole, when he feels himself [in the world] as a great, beautiful, dignified and valuable whole, when harmonious comfort gives him a pure, free delight – then the universe, if it could feel itself, would exult as having reached its goal and would admire the summit of its own becoming and being.

Dream recognition:

1.) The spiritual researcher can compare what he experiences with imaginative knowledge.

2.) The spiritual researcher has a different experience with him. He becomes aware of this.

In dreams, anesthesia of the higher senses and of touch. —

In the dream, self-observation is practiced. The thinking activity, which otherwise disturbs self-observation, stands still; so does the sensory activity.

Imagination and inspiration are present.

The will rests on intuition; the presentation on sensory activity; both are absent.

The dream takes place outside the senses and outside the metabolism.

It takes place in the rhythm of breathing and blood circulation.

Memory weak because sensory activity is absent. False memory – hyperesthesia.

The dream proceeds like a mental disorder, but is quite unlike it, because it takes place in the soul. In a mental disorder, the physical intrudes into the soul without justification; in a dream, the spirit intrudes into the soul without understanding.

In a dream, a person is neither moral nor logical.

Dreaming continues in waking life.

Hallucination: the unwarranted conscious perception of a part of the body instead of the whole body. The dream image: one knows only through a part of the soul instead of through the whole soul.

Imagination must not become hallucination; inspiration must not become autosuggestion.

It depends on the drama of the dream. He clothes his tensions, solutions, his rhythms in the images of personal experience.

The somnambulist is in relationship with the outside world; but not through his normal physical body, but through that part of his being that is associated with the imaginative and inspired world. In dream consciousness, it is the soul that is active; in somnambulism, it is the body. A person is somnambulant if, instead of extinguishing prenatal experiences in the body (and merely seeing them in the spiritual) and instead imprinting them in the body (which enables the person to perceive in the sensory world). —

In post-hypnosis, the organ remains imprinted until the command is carried out. Instead of being a soul-spiritual being that reveals itself through the body, the person has become a physical-soul automaton that apes the true human being.

The human being carries his childhood within him; but in the normal state he does not relate it to the outside world, to which he relates only his present human being. In the morbid state, however, he relates his childhood to the outside world. This is when a lack of direction in life occurs. It is easy for a person in a civilized society to get into this situation if they cannot keep up with life and are therefore unable to place their present human being in a fulfilled relationship with the outside world. Hypersthesia: aping artistic activity.

Hyperesthesia: aping of artistic activity.

If sensory activity is heightened and combines with healthy mental life, then artistry arises. But if the activity of perception, which lies behind the senses, is heightened, then it fabricates unauthorized sensory activity and apes artistry.

Diagnosis for increased sensitivity. -!?

Healing instincts.

The etheric body is the creator of the physical body, while it itself is created by the astral body. The physical body can be seen as the manifestation and condensation of the creative part of the etheric body; whereas the receptive parts of it remain open to the influence of the astral body. The etheric body of a man is female, that of a woman is male. Originally, however, the etheric body is of both sexes. And this bisexuality is nothing other than the condensation of a part of the completely sexless astral body. The external physical sex arises only from the fact that one side of the bisexual etheric body condenses physically. The man arises through the condensation of the male side; the woman through the condensation of the female side. In the former, an ethereal-female remains, in the latter an ethereal-male.

These remaining parts of the etheric body are again divided into two parts, one of which retains its sexual characteristics, while the other takes on an asexual nature. That which remains sexual permeates itself with desire and becomes the basis for human physical reproduction. While the physical organs of reproduction are the expression of the lowest part of the etheric body, the organs of affection, the heart, are the creatures of the second part of the etheric body. The woman has a male heart, the man a female heart. The male heart expresses itself in active love, in compassionate devotion; the female heart of the man finds expression in courage and bravery. At this stage, one should no longer interpret the expressions male and female here as having exactly the same meanings as they have for physical corporeality. Although love and courage first reveal themselves to the opposite sex, they nevertheless take on a more general character that relates to more general life circumstances.

The third part of the etheric body contains the forces that produce the sense organs. The entire sensory apparatus is produced by this etheric body. But these sense organs would be without effect if the etheric body did not imbibe with the astral body. The eye and the etheric forces that produce it would bring forth something that is also present in the photographic apparatus, if these emanations were not transformed by the astral body into sensations of color.

What the astral body produces in connection with this third highest link of the etheric body and the physical organs it generates forms the basis of the soul's life. These are the perceptions.

When observing the eye, for example, one has to consider three things: firstly, the ether eye, which is the creator of the eye. Secondly, the creature, namely the physical eye itself. And thirdly, the astral limb that extends into this eye and in which, for example, the color “red” is formed.

The astral body also breaks down into three parts. The lowest is the one that fills the sense organs in the manner indicated. It is of a creative nature, for it has given the uppermost part of the etheric body the ability to form sense organs. The second, middle link of the astral body, on the other hand, is less creative. It has a character that finds expression in the preservation of what it has received, in pleasure and pain. It is connected to the heart in the same way that the first link is connected to the objects of the external world through the sense organs. It experiences the impressions that are conveyed through the heart.

The third limb of the astral body is essentially independent of the external world of the senses as well as of the internal world of the heart. It finds its expression in the “I”. But this limb can let etheric forces flow into it. These etheric forces at play in the I are initially thoughts. With these thoughts, the I enters into contact with the universal ether. The thoughts of things embodied in the ether flow into the ego, and so the ego first forms the third, uppermost limb of its astral body. With the help of this “ego work”, the astral body becomes an organized entity, whereas before it was a chaotic, virgin being. This astral body now in turn has an effect on the lower limbs of the astral body. First of all, on the second limb. The forms of the consciousness soul are imprinted on the desire soul. The heart undergoes a process of ennoblement and spiritualization. It is directed towards the spirit. Initially, this can only happen when the externally stimulated experiences are silent. In the quiet hours of life. Above all, during sleep, when the soul is disconnected from the body, the spiritualized astral part imprints its character on the intellectual and sensual part. Therefore, time must be given to the person to consolidate what the malleable astral soul absorbs. Forces must develop in the middle part of the soul that can then act on the heart. Then the heart will release its powers again, so that the physical parts for the spirit can also be formed. These are then clairvoyant organs.

When the uppermost part of the astral soul can no longer evoke mere thoughts but actual images, the next step can begin on the lowest part of the astral body. Before, it was only able to build sensory organs that reflected external things. Now it becomes capable of making these sensory organs the realization of internal things. The human perceptions are then no longer mere images of the external, but they radiate the things of the inner world outwards. Man becomes the bearer of causes, whereas before he could only receive effects.

In the waking state, the astral body works through the third part of the ether body in the senses.

In the dream state, the astral body withdraws into itself; the astral body transforms into images what the ether body has received from the senses. In the actual state of sleep, the astral body frees itself even from these perceptions of the senses. It lives only in the ether, which is not changed by the human being himself. He lives the general life of the world.

This latter state is connected with the waking life only through the ego-concept. It is pure will, creating out of nothing.

The dream state is connected to waking life through the desires and feelings. They only have an existence in the soul. You experience them, but you do not look at them. Clairvoyance consists of looking at this world. It then becomes images, just as the external world is represented by the sense organs in images. This is astral vision.

But when the will itself becomes pictorial, then mental seeing occurs. Man then sees thoughts as he sees trees.

If this state increases to such an extent that the thoughts of his seeing prove to be independent beings, spirit beings, then will perceives the will. And through the will perceived [a part of the manuscript is missing here]

In this state, the human being transforms the third and uppermost part of his etheric body himself. This becomes more and more his own creation.

Finally, this transformed highest part of the etheric body then influences the second. It makes it creative too. This has previously been stimulated to its productive achievements by the outside world. The most prominent stimulus came from the perception of sexual desire. Now the stimulus comes from within. The one-sidedness of the masculine or feminine disappears completely. A non-sexual generative power of this etheric body begins: Budhi. It again affects the physical organism, which now develops the organ of will in the highest sense.

The first sentence of “The Voice of Silence” speaks of the lower soul powers (Iddhi or Siddhis). And it points to the “dangers of these soul powers”. First of all, I would like to point out that the little book, “The Voice of Silence”, is intended to serve as material for meditation. It is written entirely from an occult knowledge. And occult knowledge is living knowledge, i.e., it has an effect as a force on the whole person when he or she penetrates it through meditation. But, as I have already said, it is not a matter of rationally absorbing and dissecting this knowledge, but of completely surrendering to it. Only those who succeed in clearing their field of consciousness for a short time of all impressions of everyday life and in filling themselves completely with the meditation thought for that time will receive the fruit of meditation.

I would now like to point out some of the occult knowledge that underlies the “Voice of Silence”. But I must explicitly state that it is not a matter of speculating such knowledge into the sentences of the “Voice of Silence” in moments of meditation, but of appropriating this knowledge in times that lie outside of meditation. Then the same becomes a component of our soul and it works in us, even if we do not analyze it in detailed thoughts during meditation.

All truly occult sentences are based on the knowledge of world development and are written out of the knowledge that sees man in harmony with the One All-Life, which lives out in ever new forms. But man should recognize himself as one of these forms. He should learn to understand that the developmental processes of a long past have flowed into his being, and that he himself forms the transitional form to higher states.

As man is today, he consists of a series of bodies: the physical, the astral, the lower spiritual body, and the higher spiritual body. And even higher bodies are for the time being only hinted at in him. Man understands himself even less if he knows that the bodies mentioned are not all developed to the same degree. For although, for example, the astral body as such is higher than the physical body, man's present astral body is nevertheless lower than his physical body. One must distinguish between perfection in its kind and perfection in itself. Man's physical body has today reached a certain level of perfection in its kind, and it will be complete when the present so-called [4th] “round” of our earth has come to an end. The astral body, however, still stands today at a lower degree of perfection, and it will only be in the 5th round that it will have progressed as far as the physical body has today in its kind. The higher bodies are even further behind in their development. Therefore, one can say: Man still has a lot of work to do on himself so that his higher bodies are organized and developed to the same extent as his physical body is. Today, man cannot essentially sin as much against his physical organization as he can against his higher bodies. Of course, one can also damage one's physical organization; but damaging the higher bodies means something quite different. For these higher bodies are still in a kind of embryonic state, and by acting on them, we act on predispositions, not on organs that have reached their finished form to a certain extent in the realm of nature. We organize our higher bodies in the same way that we think, feel, sense, and desire. We do this in the same way that natural forces did long ago, when they formed our physical organs, our lungs, heart, eyes, ears, etc., from lower structures. We see ourselves as the continuation of nature on higher planes. That we direct our thoughts, desires, sensations, feelings in such a way that we organize our higher bodies in the way nature has organized our physical body: such instructions as the “Voice of Silence” are for this purpose. And we bring ourselves into the right direction of development when we let such sentences take effect on us in meditation. For these sentences are precisely spiritual natural forces that guide us, and through which we guide ourselves. If we let them guide us, then our higher bodies will organize themselves and we will receive sensory organs for the higher planes. We will see, hear and act on these higher planes, just as we have come to see, hear and act on the physical plane through the natural forces. It is easy to see that there are “dangers” in such a development. The so-called lower soul powers present these dangers if the spiritual power is not directed in the appropriate direction. The Voice of the Soul was written to achieve this direction.

It is also a danger for a person if they acquire a false sense of the idea that the “outer world” is a mere illusory world. This is certainly true in one sense. But man is not called upon to withdraw from this “outer world” and flee to higher worlds. We should gain insight into the higher worlds, but we should be clear about the fact that we should seek the causes for effects in our physical world in these higher worlds. We should always bear in mind that we have to delve into our own spirit. Through such deepening, we learn to understand the spirit that speaks to us through every leaf, through every animal, through every human being. But it would be wrong if we sought the spirit and disregarded its organs, and the organs of the spirit are the phenomena and processes of this world. We are to draw the impulses, the motives for our activity in this world from higher planes; the activity itself must lie between birth and death in this world. We are not to disdain the world, but to love it; but we are not to love it as it appears to the mere physical senses, but we are to learn daily, hourly how it is an expression of the spirit. Everywhere, in the sense of the third sentence of “The Voice of Silence”, one seeks the “Creator” on a higher plane. Certainly, in this way the world of the senses becomes an illusory world. But only to the extent that man usually regards it. For example, we see a criminal. As most people look at such a person, they see only appearance. We get to know the truth about the criminal when we confront him with a gaze that is sharpened by the higher worlds. When we look deeply into the workings of the world, then all our feelings, all our perceptions of the reality around us change. And through such knowledge we become capable for the real world in which we live. We must realize more and more that we are much less called to correct the world than to correct our illusory views of the world. Only then can we intervene in the world in a bettering way, if we have improved ourselves by struggling through from false to true views. That is why it says in “The Voice of Silence”: “Only then, only when the human being no longer perceives the many entities of appearance as such, but directs his gaze to the One True, will the feeling close to the realm of falsehood and open to the realm of truth.”

The “creative spirit” works around us, but the “creative spirit” also works within us. The outer world will always reveal this creative spirit to us if we maintain the “silver thread” that binds us to the creative spirit itself. We should therefore listen to everything that reaches our ears and look at everything that presents itself to our eyes. However, we should never allow ourselves to be directed by external influences, but we should be clear that within us is the interpreter, the conductor, who places everything external in the right light. By tearing the “silver thread” within, we ourselves make the outer world an illusory one, which then deceives us at every turn; by maintaining the inner connection with the source of the spirit, all the light of truth also pours out for us over the outer world.

We must search in our own spirit: then the spirit of the world opens up to us. It is not usually assumed that this is the way to see in higher worlds. Yet it is. —

The “halls” in “The Voice of Silence” are real experiences of self-knowledge in the human being.

It is important that we clearly bring the stages described here to our minds. It is not a matter of grasping intellectually what is meant by these “halls”. We must experience this meaning. Understanding is the least; and this understanding also does not open up higher powers. But even if we believe that we have long since understood, we must live in this sense again and again: that opens up [higher powers]. Experienced occultists know that understanding occult tenets is nothing. That is why every occultist will live and let live again and again what has long been understood. And no true occultist should fail to meditate daily on the most important and simplest truths. This does not give him knowledge in the worldly sense, but it gives him strength and life in the occult sense. Just as you love a child that you see and know every day, so the occultist loves the truths and must be with them and live with them every day. Occult knowledge is therefore different from the external knowledge gained from mere civilization. You have it once, and you are, so to speak, done with the understanding. Not so with occult knowledge. You have it again and again in your living environment, even if you know it, like lovingly embracing a child, even if you have known it for a long time.

The “first hall” makes it clear to us that our usual point of view is that of ignorance. And ignorance must remain our part if we remain with what, so to speak, has fallen to us through nature itself. All external knowledge, too, is only a collection of what ignorance yields. As long as we are not clear about the fact that we can remain in ignorance despite having much knowledge, true wisdom is impossible for us, as is any kind of progress. It is essential that we imbibe this attitude with a sense of being alive, that we are “learners”. With every step we take, life must be a school for us. Then we experience life in the second hall. Our whole relationship to the world changes under the influence of such an attitude. We then have the faith that we can learn from everything that comes our way. We become students of the All-One Life, which continually reveals itself to us. And only then do we learn to love; to love the All. Thus the isolation banished into the narrow self melts away, and we learn not to remain with pain and joy, but to let pain and joy teach us. We come to understand that our own organism is an organ for the whole world. We realize that our real self is not at all identical with this organism; we learn to regard ourselves as a tool through which the world acts on our higher self, and this higher self on the world. But then we will also soon find that this higher self is a member in the spirit-all-organism, entrusted to us as a pledge, so that we can regard ourselves as emissaries of the divine all-will. We feel more and more like missionaries of the great world spirit. And when we feel like this, we sense something of the atmosphere of the “Hall of Learning”. But then we can also ascend to the feeling of what the 3rd hall, that of “Wisdom”, is. We experience the connection with the All-Spirit and become aware that the highest knowledge flows to us from within. We begin to allow ourselves to be carried along by this stream. The gates of inspiration open for us. We will guide ourselves in the true sense, not be guided by the impulses of the outside world. We are reborn in this way. For, as we were previously a child of the world, so now we become a child of the spirit. The spirit within shows us the way. An infinite sense of security and calm comes over us; all success does not decide anything about our actions, but only the view of what is right. And this feeling of inner security opens our eyes to the hall of bliss. And then the seven voices resound. These seven voices, like all occult truths, have a sevenfold interpretation. And more and more we ascend to the highest interpretation, which is actually no longer an interpretation but a spiritual reality. But one must meditate within oneself to open up the following interpretations, then higher interpretations and ultimately realities will reveal themselves.

First, the first (symbolic-allegorical) interpretation.

1.) Feeling alive and immersing oneself in this living feeling, one must always renew the feeling that the world, as one initially sees it, is an outer work, an illusory world. One must immerse oneself in the living belief that this world will reveal the truth to us more and more as we immerse ourselves in ourselves. It cannot be easy for us to completely imbue ourselves with such a mood. For we must not forget that this world is ours after all, that we are indeed called to love this world. If it were very easy for us to say goodbye to the way we live in the world, then this farewell would not be a sacrifice. Then we would seek a new way of life only as we rush from distraction to distraction in ordinary life. Therefore, the voice that speaks to us in this moment of farewell must be the sweet song of the nightingale; there must be a real farewell to the illusory feelings of life. If we can often imbue ourselves with such a mood for a few moments, then we ascend the ladder of mystical perfection.

And we can discern the second voice in the things of this world. For as long as we live in illusory feelings, the world sounds disharmonious to us. We judge and criticize because we perceive the discords on the surface of things. But when we dampen our perception of the discords, we dampen judgment and criticism; and we immerse ourselves in the harmony at the basis of things. We learn to understand evil ourselves. We learn to recognize that evil is a force that asserts itself in the wrong place. If it were in the right place, it would be good. And so, at the bottom of things, what previously appeared to be discord is transformed into harmony. Not judging, not criticizing, but hearing and understanding makes the second sound resonate out of the silence. Every occultist knows that it has helped him infinitely to understand and seek everywhere, to understand uncritically, compassionately; and then the silver cymbal resounded to him, which is only drowned out by what an external hearing perceives from the surface of things.

“Listen within,” the occultist urges us. If you compare one thing with another, you may well find one thing perfect and the other imperfect. But it is not such a comparison that will tell you what is in the thing, but the third sound that is hidden in every thing like the sound in the sea shell. You will not understand the ugliness in nature, the wrong in life, the corruption in man by comparing one with the other, but by listening to the hidden inner self of each thing and being. Go into the silence, where nothing intrudes on you that prompts you to compare, and be spiritually alone with each being, then the “silence” reveals to you the muffled sound in each thing and being.

And after such an exercise, seriousness and dignity pervade our entire being. We learn to understand the world in its seriousness and dignity. Something must stir in us that allows us to feel fully serious about all things. This is the moment when it is revealed to us how everything is an expression of the most dignified whole. We get used to looking up from the smallest to the infinite, because even when we are confronted with the smallest thing, we are not left with the thought that it is an expression of the language of the universe, which speaks to us with the calmest dignity. This feeling, vividly grasped in our meditation, gives the fourth tone.

But then, when we have prepared ourselves, the spirit beings in the world begin to resound for us; then it sounds like the trumpet call, for we will no longer hear the secret of a single thing, but the sound of the universe itself. If we let the spirit of the world speak to us, it will resound to us from all things; but no longer as the individual sound of these things, but as the harmony of the universe. This is the fifth sound.

And this sound can intensify. It penetrates from being to being for us. It reveals to us the secrets of the world. Once we have grasped that everything is the manifestation of the One Spirit, we can surrender ourselves completely to this manifestation. We then see the world as a spiritual sound, permeating everything and finding an echo everywhere. This is the sixth voice.

We should bring ourselves to experience the ideas thus suggested in a spiritual, meditative way. We should be still within, very still, and vividly recall the images with which the tones are characterized in the “St. d. St.”, so that we listen imaginatively to them with the spiritual ear. And in doing so, we should fill ourselves with thoughts such as those given here for the exegesis of the tones. Not speculatively, but in a living feeling. Then we meditate correctly and fruitfully.

And finally, we let all the revelations of the six tones resound together in one. For we should not remain in one relationship to the world, but be all-embracing. And whoever has already heard the sixth voice must return to the first, to the second, etc. Only when we love the individual as well as the harmony in the whole do we approach perfection.

(continued next time). —

[Part 1: Enclosure to a letter to Marie von Sivers, early January 1906]

The development of the Earth

The earth is the fourth of the seven planets on which the human being successively develops his seven states of consciousness. It has been shown that the moon is the arena for the development of image consciousness. An “image” is only similar to, but not the same as, its object. But the consciousness that is developed on earth produces images that are “equal” to the object to which they belong in a certain respect. That is why earthly consciousness is also called “object consciousness”. However, this object consciousness only develops during the fourth, smaller cycle of the earth (round). During the first three, the conditions previously experienced on Saturn, the Sun and the Moon are briefly repeated. But it must be said again that it is not a mere repetition, but that during this repetition the physical body, the etheric body and the astral body are transformed in such a way that they can become the carriers of the “I”, on whose development in the fourth round the object consciousness depends.

So when, after the third round of repetition on earth, a kind of state of sleep is again experienced - between the so-called archetypal and the arupic globe - then, at the beginning of the fourth round, everything that can be considered the result of the development of Saturn, the sun and the moon emerges, initially in an arupic form. So we are dealing here with the descendants of the three lunar realms: the mineral realm, which is still in some sense plant-like, the plant realm, which has something of animal life, and an animal realm that is higher than the present animal kingdom. These three realms together form the planet that is emerging from the twilight: the Earth. It should be noted, however, that the former Sun and Moon are still contained in this Earth. When the Moon Manvantara came to an end, the Sun and Moon reunited and passed into Pralaya as one body. They will also emerge again as one body, although the tendency to split has already become apparent in the third round of the earth. Now the earth is going through the rupa and astral state during the fourth round, and is then preparing to become physical again.

The development of this physical state in the three kingdoms mentioned is the responsibility of the “spirits of form”. They transform the earlier “sense-germs” into truly formed sense organs, especially in the case of the highest kingdom, the animal-human kingdom. In all the earlier physical states through which man has passed, the sense organs had not yet taken on a fixed form.

Now, by acquiring a fixed form, these organs cease to be active; they lose their productivity, they become purely passive, suitable for merely perceiving what is offered from outside as objects. The productive power thus withdraws from the sense organs; it goes more inward; it forms the organ of reason. But this organ cannot be formed without a certain part of the human comrades being pushed down to a lower level. But now man himself pushes part of his being down into a subordinate region. He separates off a part of his being as his own lower nature. And this lower nature retains the productive power that the sense organs have had to give up. This productive power, pushed down into a lower sphere, becomes the power of sexual procreation as it occurs on earth. The “spirits of form” would cause all generative power and thus all life to solidify, to harden into mere form, if they did not concentrate this power on one part of the human being. Therefore, the spirits of form bring about sexual development. Without this, statues would have to be created instead of living human beings.

Now the whole process is linked to a complete transformation of the earth. Conditions arise that allow the beings described to live. This is made possible by the fact that the earth – still united with the moon – splits off from what remains as the sun. As a result, the sun emerges as an independent body opposite the earth. This is the external physical condition for the emergence of external perception, of object consciousness, and for the development of sexual predispositions. But at this time we are still dealing with a dual sexuality. This is because all the moon forces are still contained in the earth. During this time, however, although the organ of intellect is present, it is still completely inactive. It will only be able to develop its activity when the power of sex production has diminished by half, so that each being has only half of the former power of production. This then gives the two sexes. Outwardly, this is brought about by the emergence of those forces from the earth, which then orbit the earth as the present moon. If this separation had not taken place, the whole earth would have had to become a rigid mass, a mere form. But in this way only that which absolutely had to become firm has been removed from it, and this has become the moon, on which human life could not develop. Thus, out of the common planetary matter, the earth has saved what could be productive, even if only in the lower realm of sexual life. The representative of the “spirits of form” is Jehovah. He thus brings about the formation of the sense organs; but he also brought about, if he were now more alone in his activity, the complete solidification into mere form.

Now two events are significant for the further development. The one is the origin of the two sexes for the reason given above. The form of the sexual stems from the form-spirits. But this does not yet give the attraction of the two sexes for each other, their inclination towards each other. This is due to the fact that special beings embody themselves in the life of the two sexes, which descend from a foreign place: from Venus. Through them, love in its most subordinate form, as an inclination of the sexes, is now incorporated into the earth. This love is called upon to ennoble itself more and more and later to take on the highest forms.

Just as the Venus beings now release the element [of inclination] of the separate sexes [to each other], they also enable the intellect to become fruitful. It receives half of the productive capacity saved from the sexual power. For this reason, the monads – initially their manas part – which, as shown, formed during the Saturn, Sun and Moon cycles, can now descend into the organ of mind. But the activity of the monads would have remained cold and dry if the astral body had not received such an impact that the human being would have pursued the activity of his mind with a certain higher passion. This influence came to man from Mars. And those who conveyed it are the luciferic beings, who on the moon have indeed gone beyond the stage of the later existence of man on earth, but have not yet reached the point where, like the Lunar Pitris, they could have concluded their lunar development with the Lunar Manvantara. They, as initiates, now bring the astral forces of Mars into the astral body of man and thus fan the passion for the activity of the intellect in him. In this way they quicken man's realization; they stir him up to independence. This is the help in man's further development, which is provided by the luciferic principle. Admittedly, they also combined self-interest with knowledge. For they do indeed kindle thinking through passion, and this brings about self-interest. But only through this has it become possible for man to make the earth subservient to his purposes, to use it for his own benefit. Jehovah would have given only the form of the organ of understanding, and the spirits from Venus would have awakened only in this one dispassionate sense; for what could be given by them in this direction has indeed been delivered to the power of reproduction.

[Part 2: From the letter of January 7, 1906 to Marie von Sivers]

Yesterday it seemed to me that the thoughts I wrote down for you to read tomorrow still need to be expanded. Perhaps you will receive these lines soon enough. Therefore, I still want to add a few things to the chapter “Earth Education”.

You know that the Lunar Pitris, the beings who precede man by one stage, have to bring their existence on the moon to a stage that is analogous to the stage of human existence on earth. Let us now consider the middle of the earth's development. You know that man absorbs the impacts of Mars and Mercury and thus strives towards his “Jovian existence” as one strives towards an ideal. Of the three parts of the astral body – the sentient soul, the mind soul and the consciousness soul – man brings only the first, the sentient soul, from the moon; the mind soul comes from the impact of Mars, the consciousness soul from that of Mercury. The consciousness soul can only unfold because the forces that will later come to full development on Jupiter are already casting their shadows, so to speak. The consequence of this casting of shadows is the unfolding of the consciousness soul, which, as described in my Theosophy, can only then become the bearer of the spirit self. Insofar as the human being develops 'Manas' today, he is already living into the Jupiter stage. The Jupiter stage is now followed by the development of Venus for all beings that belong to the seven-part human evolution. Just as the human being lives towards Jupiter, so the Lunar Pitris of the moon (the 'twilight spirits'), when they have undergone their normal development, live towards the Venus existence. And the “fire spirits” are already there. They live there towards their existence on Vulcan.

If we want to describe the present situation correctly, we have to say: the human being lives on Earth towards Jupiter; the Zunar Pitris live on Jupiter towards Venus, and the fire spirits live on Venus towards Vulcan. When a being has reached the level of Vulcan itself, it has become a creator. During the development of the earth, the “spirits of form” are now in this situation. They are therefore the creators of the earthly human being. And to the extent that they are this, “Jehovah” is their representative. Since the middle of the earth's development, man has been dealing with: 1) With his creators, the spirits of form, who gave him his earthly form; 2.) with the fire spirits, which gave his astral body the sensual affects; 3.) with the Lunar Pitris, who gave this astral body earthly knowledge; and finally 4.) with himself, who lives as “I” in the consciousness soul.

The intervention of the fire spirits occurs in the Lemurian period, then the work of the lunar Pitris is added, and in the fifth sub-race of the Atlantean period, man begins to develop into an independent “I”. The incomplete lunar Pitris now work differently in this order than the complete ones. The latter impress the astral body from the outside in perfection with the Mercury impact; the former, however, must first complete themselves with what is developing in man. So they are stuck in man with their own essence. This makes them the luciferic principle.

Very early on, I was drawn to Kant. At the age of fifteen or sixteen, I studied Kant very intensively, and before I went to the University of Vienna, I occupied myself intensively with the orthodox followers of Kant from the beginning of the nineteenth century, who have been completely forgotten by the official history of science in Germany and are hardly ever mentioned anymore. Then I immersed myself in Fichte and Schelling. During this time — and this belongs already to the external occult influences — the conception of time became completely clear. This realization had no connection with the studies and was directed entirely from occult life. It was the realization that there is a backward-going evolution interfering with the forward-going evolution — the occult-astral one. This realization is the condition for spiritual vision.

Then came the acquaintance with the agent of the Master.

Then an intensive study of Hegel.

Then the study of the newer philosophy as it had been developing in Germany since the 1850s, namely the so-called theory of knowledge in all its ramifications.

My childhood passed without anyone outwardly intending to do so, so that I never encountered anyone with a superstition; and when someone around me spoke of superstitions, it was always with a strongly emphasized rejection. I did get to know the church cultus, as I was called upon to assist at cultic services as an altar boy, but nowhere, not even among the priests I met, was there any real piety or religiosity. Instead, certain dark sides of the Catholic clergy kept coming to my attention.

I did not meet the master immediately, but first one of his disciples, who was completely initiated into the secrets of the effectiveness of all plants and their connection with the cosmos and with human nature. For him, dealing with the spirits of nature was something that was taken for granted, and it was presented without enthusiasm, but it aroused all the more enthusiasm.

The official studies were directed towards mathematics, chemistry, physics, zoology, botany, mineralogy and geology. These studies offered a much more secure foundation for a spiritual world view than, for example, history or literature, which, in the absence of a specific method and also without significant prospects in the German scientific community at the time, stood there.

During his first years at university in Vienna, he met Karl Julius Schröer. At first, I attended his lectures on the history of German poetry since Goethe's first appearance, on Goethe and Schiller, on the history of German poetry in the 19th century, on Goethe's “Faust”. I also took part in his “exercises in oral and written presentation”. It was a kind of college college based on Uhland's institution at the University of Tübingen. Schröer came from German language research, had done significant studies on German dialects in Austria, he was a researcher in the style of the Brothers Grimm and in literary research an admirer of Gervinus. He was previously director of the Viennese Protestant schools. He is the son of the poet and extraordinarily meritorious pedagogue Christian] Oeser. At the time I got to know him, he was turning entirely to Goethe. He has written a widely read commentary on Goethe's “Faust” and also on Goethe's other dramas. He completed his studies at the German universities of Leipzig, Halle and Berlin before the decline of German idealism. He was a living embodiment of the noble German education. In him, the human being attracted. I soon became friends with him and was then often in his house. With him it was like an idealistic oasis in the dry materialistic German educational desert. In the external life, this time was filled with the nationality struggles in Austria. Schröer himself was far from science.

But I myself had been working since early 1880 on Goethe's scientific studies.

Then Joseph Kürschner founded the comprehensive work “Deutsche National-Literatur” (German National Literature), for which Schröer edited Goethe's dramas with introductions and commentaries. Kürschner, on Schröer's recommendation, entrusted me with the edition of Goethe's scientific writings.

Schröer wrote a preface for it, through which he introduced me to the literary public.

Within this collection, I wrote introductions to Goethe's botany, zoology, geology and color theory.

Anyone reading these introductions will be able to find the theosophical ideas in the guise of a philosophical idealism.

It also includes an examination of Haeckel.

My 1886 work, Erkenntnistheorie, is a philosophical supplement to this.

Then, through my acquaintance with the Austrian poet M. E. delle Grazie, who had a fatherly friend in Professor Laurenz Müllner, I was introduced to the circles of Viennese theological professors. Marie Eugenie delle Grazie has written a great epic “Robespierre” and a drama “Shadow”.

At the end of the 1880s, I became an editor of the “Deutsche Wochenschrift” in Vienna for a short time. This gave me the opportunity to study the national psyche of the various Austrian nationalities in depth. The guiding thread for an intellectual cultural policy had to be found.

In all this there was no question of publicly emphasizing occult ideas. And the occult powers behind me gave me only one piece of advice: “All in the guise of idealistic philosophy”.

All this went hand in hand with my more than fifteen years of work as an educator and private teacher. My first contact with Viennese theosophical circles at the end of the 1880s had no lasting external effect.

During my last months in Vienna, I wrote my small paper: “Goethe as the Father of a New Aesthetic”.

Then I was called to the then newly established “Goethe and Schiller Archives” in Weimar to edit Goethe's scientific writings. I did not have an official position at this archive; I was merely a contributor to the great “Sophien Edition” of Goethe's works.

My next goal was to lay the purely philosophical foundations of my world view. This was done in the two works: “Truth and Science” and “Philosophy of Freedom”.

The Goethe and Schiller Archives were visited by a large number of scholars and literary figures, as well as other personalities from Germany and abroad. I got to know some of these personalities better because I soon became friends with the director of the Goethe and Schiller Archives, Prof. Bernhard Suphan, and visited his house a lot. Suphan invited me to many private visits that he had from visitors to the archives. It was on one of these occasions that I met Treitschke.

But the friendship I formed soon after with the German mythologist Ludwig Laistner, the author of “Riddle of the Sphynx,” was much deeper. I had repeated conversations with Herman Grimm, who spoke to me a great deal about his uncompleted work, a “History of German Imagination.”

Then came the Nietzsche episode. Shortly before, I had even written about Nietzsche in an opposing sense.

My occult powers pointed out to me the need to let my interest in the true spiritual flow unnoticed into the currents of the times. One does not arrive at knowledge by wanting to assert one's own point of view absolutely, but by immersing oneself in foreign currents of thought.

Thus I wrote my book on Nietzsche by placing myself entirely in Nietzsche's point of view. It is perhaps for this very reason the most objective book on Nietzsche in Germany. Nietzsche as an anti-Wagnerian and an anti-Christian is also fully represented.

For some time I was considered the most uncompromising “Nietzschean.”

At that time the “Society for Ethical Culture” was founded in Germany. This society wanted a morality with complete indifference to all worldviews. A complete construct and a danger to education. I wrote a sharp article against this foundation in the weekly “Die Zukunft”.

The result was sharp replies. And my previous study of Nietzsche led to the publication of a pamphlet against me: “Nietzsche-Narren” (Nietzsche Fools).

The occult standpoint demands: “No unnecessary polemic” and “Avoid defending yourself wherever you can”.

I calmly wrote my book, “Goethe's World View,” which marked the end of my Weimar period.

Immediately after my article in “Zukunft,” Haeckel approached me. Two weeks later, he wrote an article in “Zukunft” in which he publicly acknowledged my point of view that ethics can only arise on the basis of a worldview.

Not long after that was Haeckel's 60th birthday, which was celebrated as a great festivity in Jena. Haeckel's friends invited me. That was the first time I saw Haeckel. His personality is enchanting. In person, he is the complete opposite of the tone of his writings. If Haeckel had ever studied philosophy, in which he is not just a dilettante but a child, he would certainly have drawn the highest spiritualistic conclusions from his epoch-making phylogenetic studies.

Now, despite all of German philosophy, despite all of Haeckel's other German education, Haeckel's phylogenetic thought is the most significant achievement of German intellectual life in the second half of the nineteenth century. And there is no better scientific foundation of occultism than Haeckel's teaching. Haeckel's teaching is great and Haeckel is the worst commentator on this teaching. It is not by showing Haeckel's contemporaries his weaknesses that one benefits culture, but by presenting to them the greatness of Haeckel's phylogenetic ideas. I did this in the two volumes of my:

“Welt- und Lebensanschauungen im 19. Jahrhundert” (World and Life Views in the 19th Century), which are also dedicated to Haeckel, and in my small work: “Haeckel and his opponents”.

In Haeckel's phylogeny, only the time of the German intellectual life actually lives; philosophy is in a state of the most desolate infertility, theology is a hypocritical fabric that is not remotely aware of its untruthfulness, and the sciences, despite the great empirical upsurge, have fallen into the most barren philosophical ignorance.

From 1890 to 1897 I was in Weimar.

In 1897 I went to Berlin as editor of the “Magazine for Literature”. The writings “Welt- und Lebensanschauungen im 19. Jahrhundert” (World and Life Views in the 19th Century) and “Haeckel und seine Gegner” (Haeckel and his Opponents) already belong to the Berlin period.

My next task was to bring an intellectual current to bear in literature. I placed the Magazin für Literatur at the service of this task. It was a long-established organ that had existed since 1832 and had gone through various phases.

I gently and slowly led it in the direction of esotericism. Carefully but distinctly, by writing an essay for the 150th anniversary of Goethe's birth, “Goethe's Secret Revelation,” which only reflected what I had already hinted at in a public lecture in Vienna about Goethe's fairy tale of the “green snake and the beautiful lily”.

It was only natural that a circle of readers should gradually gather around the direction I had inaugurated in the Magazin. They did gather, but not quickly enough for the publisher to consider the venture financially promising. I wanted to give the young literary movement an intellectual foundation and was actually in the most lively contact with the most promising representatives of this movement. But on the one hand I was abandoned; on the other hand, this direction soon either sank into insignificance or into naturalism.

Meanwhile, contact with the working class had already been established. I had become a teacher at the Berlin Workers' Education School. I taught history and natural science. My thoroughly idealistic history method and my way of teaching soon became both appealing and understandable to the workers. My audience grew. I was invited to give a lecture almost every evening.

Then the time came when I, in agreement with the occult forces behind me, could say: You have given the philosophical foundation of the world view, you have shown an understanding of the currents of the time by treating them as only a complete believer could treat them; no one will be able to say: This occultist speaks of the spiritual world because he is ignorant of the philosophical and scientific achievements of the time.

I had now also reached the fortieth year, before the onset of which, in the sense of the masters, no one may publicly appear as a teacher of occultism. (Wherever someone teaches earlier, there is an error).

Now I could devote myself to Theosophy publicly.

The next consequence was that, at the urging of certain leaders of German socialism, a general assembly of the Workers' Educational School was convened to decide between Marxism and me. But the ostracism did not decide against me. In the general assembly, it was decided with all against only four votes to keep me on as a teacher.

But the terrorism of the leaders meant that I had to resign after three months. In order not to compromise themselves, they wrapped the matter up in the pretext that I was too busy with the Theosophical movement to have enough time for the labor school in.

Miss v. Sivers was at my side almost from the beginning of the theosophical work. She also personally witnessed the last phases of my relationship with the Berlin laborers.