The Art of Lecturing
GA 339
12 October 1921, Dornach
Lecture II
When we set out today to speak about Anthroposophy and the Threefold Movement with its various consequences—which indeed arise out of Anthroposophy, and must really be thought of as arising out of it,—then we must first of all hold before our souls that it is difficult to make oneself understood. And, without this feeling—that it is difficult to make oneself understood—we shall hardly be able to succeed as lecturers for anthroposophical Spiritual Science and all that is connected with it, in a way satisfying to ourselves. For if there is to be speaking about Anthroposophy which is appropriate, then this speaking must be entirely different from what one is accustomed to in accordance with the traditions of speaking. One has often fallen into the habit of speaking also about anthroposophical matters in the way one has become used to speaking in the age of materialism; but one is more apt thereby to obstruct the understanding for Anthroposophy, rather than to open up an approach to it.
We shall first of all have to make quite clear to ourselves what the content of the matter is that comes towards us in Anthroposophy and its consequences. And in these lectures I shall deal as I said yesterday, with the practice of lecturing, but only for anthroposophical and related matters, so that what I have to say applies only to these.
We must now make clear to ourselves that primarily it is the feeling for the central issue of the threefold order that must at first be stirred in our present humanity. It must after all be assumed that an audience of today does not begin to know what to do with the concept of the threefold order. Our speaking must slowly lead to the imparting first of a feeling for this threefold order in the audience.
During the time in which materialism has held sway, one has become accustomed to give expression to the things of the outer world through description. In this one had a kind of guidance in the outer world itself. Moreover, objects in the outer world are, I would say, too fixed for one to believe that, in the end, it makes much difference how one speaks about the things of the outer world; one need only give people some guidance on the way for perceiving this outer world. Then, in the end it comes to this: if, let us say, one delivers somewhere a popular lecture with experiments, and thereby demonstrates to people how this or that substance reacts in a retort, then they see how the substance reacts in the retort. And whether one then lectures this way or that way—a bit better, a bit less well, a hit more relevantly, a hit less relevantly—in the end makes no difference. And gradually it has tended to come to the point that such lectures and such talks are attended in order to see the experimenting, and what is spoken is just taken along as a kind of more or less agreeable or disagreeable side noise. One must express these things somewhat radically, just in order to show the exact direction in which civilization is moving in regard to these things.
When it is a matter of what to stimulate in people for doing, for willing, one is of the opinion that one must just “set up ideals”. People would have to accustom themselves to “apprehend ideals”, and thus one gradually glides more and more over into the utopian, when it is a matter of such things as the threefold order of the social organism.
So it has also happened in many an instance that many people who lecture about the threefold idea today absolutely call forth the opinion, through the manner in which they speak, that it is some utopia or other that should be striven for. And, since one is always of the opinion that what should be striven for in most cases cannot be expected to come in less than fifty or a hundred years—or many extend the time even further—so one also allows oneself, quite unconsciously, to approach speaking about things as if they would first ripen in fifty or a hundred years. One glides away from the reality very soon, and then talks about it thus: How will a small shop be set up in the threefold social organism? What will be the relation of the single person to the sewing machine in the threefold social organism?—and so on. Such questions are really put in abundance to any endeavor such as the threefolding of the social organism. As regards such an endeavor, which with all of its roots comes out of reality, one should not at all speak in this utopian fashion. For one should always evoke at least this feeling: the threefold order of the social organism is nothing which can be "made" in the sense that state constitutions can be made in a parliament—of the kind for example, that the Weimar National Assembly was. These are made! But one cannot speak in the same sense of making the threefold social organism.
Just as little can one speak of "organizing" in order to produce the threefold order. That which is an organism, this one does not organize; this grows. It is just in the nature of an organism that one does not have to organize it, that it organizes itself. That which can be organized is no organism. We must approach things from the start with these feelings, otherwise we shall not have the possibility of finding the appropriate expression.
The threefold order is something which indeed simply follows from the natural living together of people. One can falsify this natural living together of people—as has been the case, for example, in recent history—by extending the characteristic features of one member, the states-rights member, to both others. Then these two other members will simply become corrupted because they cannot prosper, just as someone cannot get on well in an unsuitable garment, that is too heavy, or the like.
It is in the natural relation of people that the threefold order of the social organism lives, that the independent spiritual life lives, that the rights or states life, regulated by the people's majority, lives, that the economic life, shaped solely out of itself, also lives. One can put strait jackets on the spiritual life, on the economic life, although one does not need them; but then its own life asserts itself continually nevertheless, and what we then experience outwardly is just this self-assertion. It is hence necessary to show that the threefolding of the social organism is implicit in the very nature of both the human being and the social life.
We see that the spiritual life in Europe was entirely independent and free until the 13th or 14th centuries, when, what was the free, independent spiritual life was first pushed into the universities. In this time you find the founding of the universities, and the universities then in turn slip by and by into the life of state. So that one can say: From about the 13th to the 16th or 17th century, the universities slip into the states-life, and with the universities, also the remaining educational institutions, without people really noticing it. These other institutions simply followed. This we have on the one hand.
On the other hand, until about the same period, we have free economic rule that found its true, middle-European expression in the free economic village communities. As the free spiritual life slipped into the universities, which are localized at first, and which later find shelter in the state, so does that which is the economic organization first receive a certain administration in the “rights” sense, when the cities emerge more and more. Then the cities, in the first place, organize this economic life, while earlier, when the village communities were setting the pace, it had grown freely. And then we see how increasingly, that which was centralized in the cities seeks protection in the larger territories of the states. Thus we see how the tendency of modern times ends in letting the spiritual life on the one hand, the economic life on the other, seek the protection of states which increasingly take on the character of domains constituted according to Roman law. This was actually the development in modern times.
We have reached that point in historical development where things can go no further like this, where a sense and a feeling for free spiritual life must once again be developed. When in a strait jacket, the spirit simply does not advance; because it only apparently advances, but in truth still remains behind—can never celebrate real births, but at most renaissances. It is just the same with the economic life.
Today we simply stand in the age in which we must absolutely reverse the movement which has developed in the civilized world of Europe with its American annex, the age in which the opposite direction must set in. For what has gone on developing for a time must reach a point at which something new must set in. Otherwise one runs into the danger of doing as one would when, with a growing plant, one were to say it should not be allowed to come to fruition, it should grow further, it should keep blooming on and on.—Then it would grow thus: bring forth a flower; then no seed, but again a flower, again a flower, and so on. Therefore it is absolutely necessary to familiarize oneself inwardly with these things, and to develop a feeling for the historical turning point at which we stand today.
But, just as in an organism every detail is necessarily formed as it is, so is everything in the world in which we live and which we help to shape, to be formed as it must be in its place in the sense of the whole. You cannot imagine, if you think realistically, that your ear lobe could be formed the very least bit differently from what it is, in conformity with your whole organism. Were your ear lobe only the least bit differently formed, then you would also have to have quite a different nose, different fingertips, and so forth. And just as the ear lobe is formed in the sense of the whole human being, so must also the lecture in which something flows be given—in the sense of the whole subject—that lecturing which is truly taking on new forms.
Such a lecture cannot be delivered in the manner which one could perhaps learn from the sermon-lecture. For the sermon-lecture as we still have it today, rests on the tradition which really goes back to the old Orient,—on a special attitude which the whole human being in the old Orient had toward speech. This characteristic was continued, so that it lived in a certain free way in Greece, lived in Rome, and shows its last spark most clearly in the particular relationship which the Frenchman has to his language. Not that I want to imply that every Frenchman preaches when he speaks; but a similar relationship, such as had to develop out of the oriental relationship to language still continues to live on in a definite way in the French handling of speech, only entirely in a declining movement.
This element which we can observe here in regard to language came to expression when one still learned speaking from the professors, as one could later, but now in the declining phase—professors who really continued to live on as mummies of ancient times and bore the title, “professor of elocution”. In former times, at almost every university, in every school, also in seminaries and so on there was such a professor of elocution, of rhetoric. The renowned Curtius1Ernst Curtius, 1814–1896, archeologist and historian. of Berlin actually still bore the title “professor of elocution” officially. But the whole affair became too dull for him, and he did not lecture on elocution, but only demonstrated himself as a professor of elocution through being sent out by the faculty council on ceremonial occasions, since that was always the task of the professor of elocution. Nevertheless, in this Curtius made it his business to discharge his duties at such ceremonial occasions by paying as little regard as possible to the ancient rules of eloquence. For the rest, it was too dull for him to be a professor of elocution in times in which professors of elocution did not fit in any more, and he lectured on art history, on the history of Greek art. But in the university catalog he was listed as “professor of elocution”. This refers us back to an element that was present everywhere in speech in olden times.
Now, when we consider what is quite especially characteristic in the training of speech for the middle European languages, for German, for example, then indeed everything denoted in the original sense by the word “elocution” has not the least meaning. For something flowed into these languages that is entirely different from that which was peculiar to speaking in the times when elocution had to be taken seriously. In the Greek and Latin languages there is elocution. In the German language elocution is something quite impossible, when one looks inwardly at the essential.
Today, however, we are living definitely in a time of transition. That which was the speech element of the German language cannot continue to be used. Every attempt must be made to come out of this speech element and to come into a different speech element. This also is the task, in a certain sense, to be solved by him who would speak productively about Anthroposophy or the threefold idea. For only when a fairly large number of people are able to speak in this way, will Anthroposophy and the threefold idea be rightly understood in public, even in single lectures. Meanwhile, there are not a few who develop only a pseudo-understanding and pseudo-avowal for these.
If we look back on the special element in regard to speaking which was present in the times out of which the handling of elocution was preserved, we must say: then it was as if language grew out of the human being in quite a naive way, as his fingers grow, as his second teeth grow. From the imitation process speaking resulted, and language with its whole organization. And only after one had language did one come to the use of thinking.
And now it transpired that the human being when speaking to others about any problem had to see that the inner experience, the thought experience, to a certain extent clicked [einschnappte] into the language. The sentence structure was there. It was in a certain way elastic and flexible. And, more inward than the language was the thought element. One experienced the thought element as something more inward than the language, and let it click into the language, so that it fitted into it just as one fits the idea of a statue or the like into marble. It was entirely an artistic treatment of the language. Even the way in which one was meant to speak in prose had something similar to the way in which one was to express oneself in poetry. Rhetoric and elocution had rules which were not at all unlike the rules of poetic expression. (So as not to be misunderstood, I should like to insert here that the development of language does not exclude poetry. What I now say, I say for older arts of expression, and I beg you not to interpret it as if I wanted to assert that there can be no more poetry at all today. We need but treat the language differently in poetry. But that does not belong here; I wanted to insert this only in parenthesis, that I might not be misunderstood.)
And when we now ask: How was one then supposed to speak in the time in which the thought and feeling content clicked into the language? One was supposed to speak beautifully! That was the first task: to speak beautifully. Hence, one can really only learn to speak beautifully today when one immerses oneself in the old way of speaking. There was beautiful speaking. And speaking beautifully is definitely a gift which comes to man from the Orient. It might be said: There was speaking beautifully to the point that one really regarded singing, the singing of language, as the ideal of speaking. Preaching is only a form of beautiful speaking stripped of much of the beautiful speaking. For, wholely beautiful speaking is cultic speaking. When cultic speaking pours itself into a sermon, then much is lost. But still, the sermon is a daughter of the beautiful speaking found in the cult.
The second form which has come into evidence, especially in German and in similar languages, is that in which it is no longer possible to distinguish properly between the word and the grasping of the thought conveyed—the word and the thought experience; the word has become abstract, so that it exempts itself, like a kind of thought. It is the element where the understanding for language itself is stripped off. It can no longer have something click into it, because one feels at the very outset that what is to be clicked in and the word vehicle into which something is to click are one.
For who today is clear, for example in German, when he writes down “Begriff” [concept], that this is the noun form of begreifen [to grasp; to comprehend] be-greifen (greifen with a prefix) is thus das Greifen an etwas ausfuehren [the carrying out of the grasping of something]—that “Begriff” is thus nothing other than the noun form for objective perceiving? The concept “Begriff” was formed at a time when there was still a living perception of the ether body, which grasps things. Therefore one could then truly form the concept of Begriff, because grasping with the physical body is merely an image of grasping with the ether body.
But, in order to hear Begreifen in the word Begriff it is necessary to feel speech as an organism of one's own. In the element of speaking which I am now giving an account of, language and concept always swim through one another. There is not at all that sharp separation which was once present in the Orient, where the language was an organism, was more external, and that which declared itself lived inwardly. What lived inwardly had to click into the linguistic form in speaking; that is, click in so that what lives inwardly is the content, and that into which it clicked was the outer form. And this clicking-in had to happen in the sense of the beautiful, so that one was thus a true speech artist when one wanted to speak.
This is no longer the case when, for example, one has no feeling any more for differentiating between Gehen [to go] and Laufen [to run] in relation to language as such. Gehen: two e's—one walks thither without straining oneself thereby; e is always the feeling expression for the slight participation one has in one's own activity. If there is an au in the word, this participation is enhanced. From running (Laufen) comes panting (Schnaufen) which has the same vowel sound in it. With this one's insides come into tumult. There must be a sound there that intimates this modification of the inner being. But all this is indeed no longer there today; language has become abstract. It is like our onward-flowing thoughts themselves—for the whole middle region, and especially also for the western region of civilization.
It is possible to behold a picture, an imagination in every single word; and one can live in this picture as in something relatively objective. He who faced language in earlier times considered it as something objective into which the subjective was poured. He would as little not have regarded it so, as he would have lost sight of the fact that his coat is something objective, and is not grown together with his body as another skin.
As against this, the second stage of language takes the whole organism of language as another son' skin, whereas formerly language was much more loosely there, I should like to say, like a garment. I am speaking now of the stage of language in which speaking beautifully is no longer taken into first consideration, but rather speaking correctly. In this it is not a question of rhetoric and elocution, but of logic. With this stage, which has come up slowly since Aristotle's time, grammar itself became logical to the point that the logical forms were simply developed out of the grammatical forms—one abstracted the logical from the grammatical. Here all has swum together: thought and word. The sentence is that out of which one evolves the judgment. But the judgment is in truth so laid into the sentence that one no longer experiences it as inherently independent. Correct speaking, this has become the criterion.
Further, we see a new element in speaking arising, only used everywhere at the wrong point—carried over to a quite wrong domain. Beautiful speaking humanity owes to the Orient. Correct speaking lies in the middle region of civilization. And we must look to the West when seeking the third element.
But in the West it arises first of all quite corrupted. How does it arise? Well, in the first place, language has become abstract. That which is the word organism is already almost thought-organism. And this has gradually increased so much in the West, that there it would perhaps even be regarded as facetious to discuss such things. But, in a completely wrong domain, the advance already exists.
You see, in America, just in the last third of the 19th century, a philosophical trend called “pragmatism” has appeared. In England it has been called “humanism.” James2William James. 1842–1910, American philosopher. is its representative in America, Schiller3F. C. S. Schiller. 1864–1937. Representative of pragmatism in England which he combined with humanism. in England. Then there are personalities who have already gone about extending these things somewhat. The merit of extending this concept of humanism in a very beautiful sense is due to Professor MacKenzie4S. MacKenzie, born 1560. Professor in Cardiff. who was recently here.
To what do these endeavors lead?—I mean now, American pragmatism and English humanism. They arise from a complete skepticism about cognition: Truth is something that really doesn't exist! When we make two assertions, we actually make them fundamentally in order to have guide-points in life. To speak about an “atom”—one cannot raise any particular ground of truth for it; but it is useful to take the atom theory as a basis in chemistry; thus we set up the atom concept! It is serviceable, it is useful. There is no truth other than that which lives in useful, life-serviceable concepts. “God,” if he exists or not, this is not the question. Truth, that is something or other which is of no concern to us. But it is hard to live pleasantly if one does not set up the concept of God; it is really good to live, if one lives as if there were a God. So, let us set it up, because it's a serviceable, useful concept for life. Whether the earth began according to the Kant-Laplace theory and will end according to the mechanical warmth theory, from the standpoint of truth, no human being knows anything about this—I am now just simply reporting—, but it is useful for our thinking to represent the beginning and end of the earth in this way. This is the pragmatic teaching of James, and also in essence,the humanistic teaching of Schiller. Finally, it is also not known at all whether the human being now, proceeding from the standpoint of truth, really has a soul. That could be discussed to the end of the world, whether there is a soul or not, but it is useful to assume a soul if one wants to comprehend all that the human being carries out in life.
Of course, everything that appears today in our civilization in one place spreads to other places. For such things which arose instinctively in the West, the German had to find something more conceptual, that permits of being more easily seen through conceptually; and from this the “As If” philosophy originated: whether there is an atom or not is not the question; we consider the phenomena in such a way “as if” there was an atom. Whether the good can realize itself or not, cannot be decided; we consider life in such a way “as if” the good could realize itself. One could indeed quarrel to the end of the world about whether or not there is a God: but we consider life in such a way that we act “as if” there were a God. There you have the “As If” philosophy.
One pays little attention to these things because one imagines: there in America James sits with his pupils, there in England Schiller sits with his pupils; there is Vaihinger, who wrote the “As If” philosophy: there are a few owls who live in a kind of cloud-castle, and of what concern is it to other people!
Whoever has the ear for it, however, already hears the “As If” philosophy sounding everywhere today. Almost all human beings talk in the sense of the “As If” philosophy. The philosophers are only quite funny fellows. They always blab out what other people do unconsciously. If one is sufficiently unprejudiced for it, then one only seldom hears a human being today who still uses his words differently, in connection with his heart and with his whole soul, with his whole human being, who speaks differently than as though the matter were as he expresses it. One only does not usually have the ear to hear within the sound and the tone-color of the speaking that this “As If” lives in it,—that fundamentally people over the whole of civilization are seized by this “As If.”
Whereas things usually come to be corrupted at the end, here something shows itself to be corrupted at the beginning, something that in a higher sense must be developed for handling of speech in Anthroposophy, in the threefold order and so on. These things are so earnest, so important, that we really should speak specially about them. For it will be a question of elevating the triviality, “We need concepts because they are useful for life,” this triviality of a materialistic, utilitarian theory, of raising it up to the ethical, and perhaps through the ethical to the religious. For, if we want to work in the sense of Anthroposophy and the threefold order, we have before us the task of learning good speaking, in addition to the beautiful speaking and the correct speaking which we can acquire from history. We must maintain an ear for good speaking.
Until now, I have seen little sign that it has been noticed, when, in the course of my lectures I have called attention to this good speaking—I have done it very frequently. In referring to this good speaking I have always said that it is not only a question today that what is said be correct in the logical-abstract sense, but it is a matter of saying something in a certain connection or omitting it, not saying it in this connection. It is a question of developing a feeling that something should not only be correct, but that it is justified within its connection—that it can be either good in a certain connection or bad in a certain connection. Beyond rhetoric, beyond logic, we must learn a true ethics of speaking. We must know how we may allow ourselves things in a certain connection that would not be at all permitted in another connection.
Here I may now use an example close to hand, that could perhaps have already struck some of you who were present lately at the lectures: I spoke in a certain connection of the fact that, in reality, Goethe was not born at all. I said that Goethe for a long time endeavored to express himself through painting, through drawing, but that nothing came about from it. It then flowed over into his poetic works, and then again in the poetic works, as for example Iphigenia, or especially in Naturliche Tochter [“Daughters of Nature”], we have indeed poetic works not at all in the sentimental sense. People called these poems of Goethe's “marble smooth and marble cold,” because they are almost sculptural, because they are three-dimensional. Goethe had genuine capacities which really did not become human at all; he was actually not born.—You see, in that connection in which I spoke lately, one could quite certainly say it. But imagine, if someone were to represent it as a thesis in itself in the absolute sense! It would be not only illogical, it would he of course quite crazy.
To speak out of an awareness of a life connection is something different from finding the adequate or correct use of a word association for the thought and feeling involved. To let a pronouncement or the like arise at a particular place out of a living relationship, that is what leads over from beauty, from correctness, to the ethos of language—at which one feels, when a sentence is uttered, whether one may or may not say it in the whole context. But now, there is again an inward growing together, not with language, but with speaking. This is what I should like to call good speaking or had speaking; the third form. Aside from beautiful or ugly speaking, aside from correct or incorrect speaking, comes good or bad speaking, in the sense in which I have just presented it.
Today the view is still widespread that there can be sentences which one forms and which can then be spoken on any occasion, because they have absolute validity. In reality, for our life in the present, there are no longer such sentences. Every sentence that is possible in a certain connection, is today impossible in another connection. That means, we have entered upon an epoch of humanity's development in which we need to direct our view to this many-sidedness of living situations.
The Oriental who with his whole thinking lived within a small territory, also the Greek still, who with his spiritual life, with his rights life, with his economic life, lived on a small territory, poured something into his language that appears as a linguistic work of art must appear. How is it though in a work of art? It is such that a single finite object really appears infinite in a certain realm. In this way beauty was even defined, though one-sidedly, by Haeckel, Darwin and others: It is the appearance of the idea in a self-contained picture.—The first thing which I had to oppose in my Vienna lecture on “Goethe as the Father of a New Aesthetics,” was that the beautiful is “the appearance of the idea in outer form.” I showed then that one must mean just the reverse: that the beautiful arises when one gives to form the appearance of the infinite.
And so it is with language, which in a certain way also acts as a limited territory—as a territory which encloses the possible meaning within boundaries. If that which is actually infinite in the inner soul- and spirit-life is to click into this language, it must there come to expression in beautiful form.
In correct speaking the language must he adequate; the sentence must fit the judgment, the concept, the word. The Romans were compelled to this, especially as their territory became ever larger and larger; their language transformed itself from the beautiful into the logical. Hence the custom has been retained, of conveying logic to people precisely in the Latin language. (You have indeed learned logic quite well by it.)
But we are now once again beyond this stage. Now, it is necessary that we learn to experience language with ethos—that, to a certain extent we gain a kind of morality of speaking in our lecturing, while we know that we have in a certain context to allow ourselves something or to deny ourselves something. There, things do not click-in, in the way I described earlier, but here we make use of the word to characterize. All defining ceases; here we use the word to characterize. The word is so handled that one really feels each word as something insufficient, every sentence as something insufficient, and has the urge to characterize that which one wishes to place before humanity from the most varied aspects—to go around the matter to a certain extent, and to characterize it from the most varied aspects.
You see, for free spiritual life—that is to say spiritual life that exists out of its own laws—there is as yet not very much understanding in present-day humanity. For, mostly what is understood by free spiritual life is a structure in which people live, where each one crows his own cock-a-doodle-doo from his own dung heap—excuse the somewhat remarkable picture—and in which the most incredible consonances come about from the crowing. In reality, in free spiritual life, harmony comes about through and through, because the spirit, not the single egoists, lives—because the spirit can really lead its own life over and above the single egoists.
There is, for example,—one must already say these things today—a Waldorf School spirit definitely there for our Waldorf School in Stuttgart that is independent of the body of teachers,—into which the body of teachers grows, and in which it becomes ever more and more clear that possibly the one can be more capable or less capable, but the spirit has a life of its own.
It is an abstraction, which people today still represent to themselves, when they speak of “free spirit.” This is no reality at all. The free spirit is something that really lives among people—one must only let it come into existence; and what works among people—one must only let it come into existence.
What I have said to you today I have also said only so that what we are meant to gain here may proceed from fundamental feelings, from the feeling for the earnestness of the matter. I cannot, of course, suppose that every one will now go right out and, as those in olden times spoke beautifully, in the middle period correctly, now all will speak well! But you may not for this reason object: of what help, then, are all our lectures, if we are not at once able to speak in the sense of good speaking?—It is rather a matter of our really getting the feeling of the earnestness of the situation, which we are thus to live into, so that we know: what is wanted here is something in itself so organically whole, that a necessity of form must gradually express itself even in speech, just as a necessity of form expresses itself in the ear-lobe, such as cannot be otherwise depending on how the whole human being is.
Thus I shall try to bring still closer together what is for us the content of Anthroposophy and the threefold order with the way in which it should be presented to people. And, from the consideration of principles I shall come more and more into the concrete, and to that which should underlie the practice of lecturing.
I have often emphasized that this must be Anthroposophy's manner of presenting things. I have often emphasized that one should not indeed believe that one is able to find the adequate word, the adequate sentence; one can only conduct oneself as does a photographer who, in order to show a tree, takes at least four views.
Thus a conception that lives itself out in an abstract trivial philosophy such as pragmatism or humanism, must be raised up into the realm of the ethical. And then it must first of all live in the ethos of language. We must learn good speaking. That means that we must experience as regards speaking something of all that we otherwise experience in relation to ethics, moral philosophy.
After all, the matter has become quite clear in modern times. In the speaking of theosophists we have an archaism simply conditioned through the language—archaic, namely as regards the materialistic coloration of the last centuries: “physical body”—well, it is thick; “ether body”—it is thinner, more nebulous; “astral body”—once again thinner, but still only thinner; “I”—still thinner. Now, new members of the human being keep on coming up: they become even thinner. At last one no longer knows at all how one can reach this thinness, but in any case, it only becomes ever thinner and thinner. One does not escape the materialism. This is indeed also the hallmark of this theosophical literature. And it is always the hallmark that appears, when these things are to be spoken about, from theoretical speaking, to that which I once experienced within the Theosophical Society in Paris, (I believe it was in 1906). A lady there who was a real rock-solid theosophist, wanted to express how well she liked particular lectures which had been given in the hall in which we were; and she said: “There are such good vibrations here!” And one perceived from her that this was really thought of as something which one might sniff. Thus, the scents of the lectures which were left behind and which one could sniff out somehow, these were really meant.
We must learn to tear language away from adequacy. For it can be adequate only for the material. If we wish to use it for the spiritual, in the sense of the present epoch of development of humanity, then we must free it. Freedom must then come into the handling of language. If one does not take these things abstractly, but livingly, then the first thing into which the philosophy of freedom [spiritual activity] must come is in speaking, in the handling of language. For this is necessary; otherwise the transition will not be found, for example, to the characterization of the free spiritual life.
You see, for free spiritual life—that is to say spiritual life that exists out of its own laws—there is as yet not very much understanding in present-day humanity. For, mostly what is understood by free spiritual life is a structure in which people live, where each one crows his own cock-a-doodle-doo from his own dung heap—excuse the somewhat remarkable picture—and in which the most incredible consonances come about from the crowing. In reality, in free spiritual life, harmony comes about through and through, because the spirit, not the single egoists, lives—because the spirit can really lead its own life over and above the single egoists.
There is, for example,—one must already say these things today—a Waldorf School spirit definitely there for our Waldorf School in Stuttgart that is independent of the body of teachers,—into which the body of teachers grows, and in which it becomes more and more clear that possibly the one can be more capable or less capable, but the spirit has a life of its own.
It is an abstraction, which people today still represent to themselves, when they speak of “free spirit.” This is no reality at all. The free spirit is something that really lives among people—one must only let it come into existence.
What I have said to you today I have also said only so that what we are meant to gain here may proceed from fundamental feelings, from the feeling for the earnestness of the matter. I cannot, of course, suppose that every one will now go right out and, as those in olden times spoke beautifully, in the middle period correctly, now all will speak well! But you may not for this reason object: of what help, then, are all our lectures, if we are not at once able to speak in the sense of good speaking?—It is rather a matter of our really getting the feeling of the earnestness of the situation, which we are thus to live into so that we know: what is wanted here is something in itself so organically whole, that a necessity of form must gradually express itself even in speech, just as a necessity of form expresses itself in the earlobe, such as cannot be otherwise depending on how the whole human being is.
Thus I shall try to bring still closer together what is for us the content of Anthroposophy and the threefold order with the way in which it should be presented to people. And, from the consideration of principles I shall come more and more into the concrete, and to that which should underlie the practice of lecturing.
Zweiter Vortrag
Wenn wir heute darangehen, zu sprechen über Anthroposophie und die Dreigliederungsbewegung mit ihren verschiedenen Konsequenzen - die ja aus Anthroposophie heraus entspringt und im Grunde aus ihr heraus gedacht werden muß -, dann müssen wir uns vor allen Dingen vor die Seele halten, daß es schwer ist, verstanden zu werden. Und ohne diese Empfindung, daß es schwer ist, verstanden zu werden, werden wir wohl kaum in einer uns befriedigenden Art zurechtkommen können als Redner für anthroposophisch Geisteswissenschaftliches und alles, was damit zusammenhängt. Denn wenn sachgemäß über Anthroposophie gesprochen werden soll, muß eigentlich durchaus anders gesprochen werden, als man nach den Traditionen des Sprechens gewohnt ist, über Dinge überhaupt zu sprechen. Man hat sich ja vielfach gewöhnt, auch über anthroposophische Dinge so zu sprechen, wie man eben gewohnt worden ist zu sprechen, namentlich in der Zeit des Materialismus. Aber dadurch verbaut man eher das Verständnis für Anthroposophie, als daß man zu ihr den Zugang eröffnete.
Wir werden uns zunächst einmal nur das Inhaltliche, das Stoffliche gewissermaßen ganz klarmachen müssen, das uns mit Anthroposophie und ihren Konsequenzen entgegentritt. Und ich werde es ja hier in diesen Vorträgen, wie ich schon gestern sagte, durchaus zu tun haben mit einem Anwenden des Rednerischen gerade nur in anthroposophischen und dazugehörigen Dingen, so daß, was ich zu sagen habe, eben nur dafür gilt.
Wir müssen uns nun klarmachen, daß zunächst für, sagen wir, die Hauptsache der Dreigliederung das Gefühl ja erst rege gemacht werden muß in unserer gegenwärtigen Menschheit. Es muß im Grunde genommen vorausgesetzt werden, daß ein gegenwärtiges Publikum zunächst mit dem Begriff der Dreigliederung nichts rechtes anzufangen weiß, und unser Sprechen muß langsam dazu führen, dem Publikum erst eine Empfindung von dieser Dreigliederung beizubringen.
Man ist ja gewohnt worden in der Zeit, in welcher der Materialismus geherrscht hat, rednerisch die Dinge der Außenwelt in beschreibender Art vorzubringen. Da hatte man in der Außenwelt selber eine Art von Anleitung. Und außerdem war das Objekt der Außenwelt, ich möchte sagen, zu feststehend, als daß man nicht geglaubt hätte, wie man rede über die Dinge der Außenwelt, das sei schließlich gleichgültig, wenn man nur den Menschen zur Anschauung dieser Außenwelt eine Anleitung auf den Weg gebe. Nun, und schließlich ist es ja auch so: Wenn man irgendwo, sagen wir, einen populären Experimentalvortrag hält und dabei den Leuten vorführt, wie dieser oder jener Stoff in der Retorte reagiert, dann sehen sie, wie dieser Stoff in der Retorte reagiert, und ob man da nun so oder so redet — ein bißchen besser, ein bißchen weniger gut, ein bißchen sachgemäßer, ein bißchen unsachgemäßer -, macht ja schließlich nichts aus. Und nach und nach ist es schon ein wenig so geworden, daß solche Vorträge und solche Reden besucht werden, damit man dasjenige sieht, was experimentiert wird, und was da noch gesprochen wird, das nimmt man eben wie eine Art mehr oder weniger angenehmen oder unangenehmen Nebengeräusches mit. Man muß diese Dinge etwas radikal aussprechen, damit man gerade in die richtige Richtung weist, in der sich die Zivilisation in bezug auf diese Dinge bewegt. Und wenn es sich dann um dasjenige handelt, was man in den Leuten für das Tun, für das Wollen anregen will, da meint man, man müsse vor die Leute eben Ideale hinstellen, da müßten sie sich gewöhnen, Ideale aufzufassen, und da gleitet man dann nach und nach immer mehr ins Utopistische hinüber, wenn es sich um so etwas handelt wie zum Beispiel die Dinge der Dreigliederung des sozialen Organismus.
So ist es ja auch in vieler Beziehung gekommen: Viele Menschen, die heute über die Dreigliederung reden, rufen durchaus die Meinung hervor - durch die Art, wie sie reden —, daß es sich um irgendeine Ütopie handle, um irgend etwas, was man anstreben solle. Und da man immer die Meinung hat, dasjenige, was angestrebt werden soll, das müsse meistens erst kommen können in fünfzig, in hundert Jahren oder manche dehnen die Zeit noch länger aus -, so gestattet man sich dann auch, ganz unbewußt, über die Dinge so zu reden, als wenn sie eben erst in hundert oder fünfzig Jahren reif wären, heranzukommen. Man gleitet sehr bald von der Wirklichkeit ab und redet dann darüber: Wie wird ein Krämerladen eingerichtet sein beim dreigliedrigen sozialen Organismus? Wie wird das Verhältnis des einzelnen Menschen zur Nähmaschine sein im dreigliedrigen sozialen Organismus? — und so weiter. Diese Fragen werden ja wirklich in Fülle gestellt gegenüber einer Bestrebung, wie die zur Dreigliederung des sozialen Organismus eine ist. Gegenüber einer solchen Bestrebung, die mit allen ihren Wurzeln aus der Wirklichkeit herauskommt, sollte man durchaus nicht in dieser Weise utopistisch reden. Denn mindestens dieses Gefühl sollte man immer hervorrufen, daß ja die Dreigliederung des sozialen Organismus nichts ist, was man machen kann, machen kann in dem Sinne, wie man in irgendeinem Parlamente von der Art, wie zum Beispiel die Weimarische Nationalversammlung eines war, Staatsverfassungen macht. Die macht man! Aber in demselben Sinne kann man nicht sprechen vom Machen des dreigliedrigen sozialen Organismus.
Ebensowenig kann man davon sprechen, daß man organisieren soll, damit die Dreigliederung herauskäme. Was ein Organismus ist, das organisiert man eben nicht; das wächst. Es ist ja gerade das Wesen des Organismus, daß man ihn nicht zu organisieren hat, daß er sich selbst organisiert. Was man organisieren kann, ist kein Organismus. Mit diesen Empfindungen müssen wir von vornherein an die Dinge herangehen, sonst werden wir nicht die Möglichkeit des sachgemäßen Ausdrucks finden können.
Die Dreigliederung ist etwas, das ja einfach aus dem natürlichen Zusammenleben der Menschen folgt. Man kann dieses natürliche Zusammenleben der Menschen fälschen, indem man, wie es zum Beispiel in der neueren Geschichte der Fall gewesen ist, die Eigentümlichkeiten des einen Gliedes, des rechtlich-staatlichen Gliedes, auf die beiden anderen ausdehnt. Dann werden einfach diese beiden anderen Glieder korrumpiert, weil sie nicht gedeihen können, so wie jemand nicht gedeihen kann, wenn man ihm ein ungeeignetes Gewand anzieht, das ihm zu schwer ist oder dergleichen.
Im natürlichen Zusammenhang der Menschen lebt die Dreigliederung des sozialen Organismus, lebt das selbständige Geistesleben, lebt das Rechts- oder Staatsleben, das auf die Mündigkeit der Menschen gestellt ist, lebt auch das nur aus sich heraus sich gestaltende Wirtschaftsleben. Man kann dem Geistesleben und kann dem Wirtschaftsleben Zwangsjacken anlegen, obwohl man es nicht nötig hat; aber dann macht sich fortwährend ihr Eigenleben geltend, und was wir dann im Äußeren erleben, ist eben das Sich-geltend-Machen des Eigenlebens. Es ist also notwendig, aus der Natur des Menschen und aus der Natur des sozialen Zusammenlebens die Selbstverständlichkeit der Dreigliederung des sozialen Organismus zu zeigen. Sehen wir doch, wie in Europa das Geistesleben durchaus selbständig und frei war bis zum 13., 14. Jahrhundert, wo man das, was freies, selbständiges Geistesleben war, zuerst in die Universitäten hineingeschoben hat. Sie finden gerade in dieser Zeit die Begründung der Universitäten, und die Universitäten schlüpften dann nach und nach wiederum in das Staatsleben hinein. So daß man sagen kann: Etwa vom 13. bis zum 16., 17. Jahrhundert schlüpfen die Universitäten in das Staatsleben hinein, und mit den Universitäten, ohne daß es ja eigentlich die Leute bemerkt haben, auch die übrigen Unterrichts- und Erziehungsanstalten. Sie sind ihnen einfach nachgefolgt. Das haben wir auf der einen Seite.
Und auf der anderen Seite haben wir ungefähr bis zu demselben Zeitalter das freie wirtschaftliche Walten, das seinen eigentlichen mitteleuropäischen Ausdruck gefunden hat in den freien wirtschaftlichen Dorfgemeinschaften. Und wie das freie Geistesleben hineingeschlüpft ist in die Universitäten, die zuerst lokalisiert sind und die dann unterschlüpfen unter den Staat, so bekommt dasjenige, was wirtschaftliche Organisation ist, zuerst eine gewisse Verwaltung im rechtlichen Sinn, indem die Städte immer mehr und mehr auftauchen und die Städte nun dieses wirtschaftliche Leben zunächst organisieren, während es früher gewachsen ist, als die Dorfgemeinden tonangebend waren. Und dann sehen wir, wie nun auch immer wieder mehr und mehr dasjenige, was in den Städten zentralisiert war, unterkriecht in die größeren Territorien der Staaten. Wir sehen also, wie die Tendenz der neueren Zeit darauf hinausgeht, auf der einen Seite das Geistesleben, auf der anderen Seite das Wirtschaftsleben unterkriechen zu lassen in die Staaten, die immer mehr und mehr den Charakter der nach römischem Rechte konstituierten Gebiete annehmen. Das war eigentlich die Entwickelung in der neueren Zeit.
Und an dem Punkte der geschichtlichen Entwickelung sind wir angelangt, wo es so nicht mehr weitergeht, wo sich wiederum ein Herz und ein Sinn entwickeln muß für freies Geistesleben, weil einfach der Geist nicht fortschreitet, wenn er in der Zwangsjacke ist, weil er nur scheinbar fortschreitet, in Wahrheit aber dennoch zurückbleibt, niemals wirkliche Geburten, sondern höchstens Renaissancen feiern kann. Und ebenso ist es mit dem Wirtschaftsleben. Wir stehen eben heute einfach in dem Zeitalter, wo wir die Bewegung, die sich gerade in der zivilisierten Welt Europas mit ihrem amerikanischen Anhange entwikkelt hat, unbedingt rückgängig machen müssen, wo die entgegengesetzte Richtung einsetzen muß. Denn dasjenige, was eine Zeitlang sich fortentwickelt hat, muß an einem Punkt ankommen, wo etwas Neues einsetzen muß. Sonst kommt man in die Gefahr, es ebenso zu machen, wie man es machen würde, wenn eine Pflanze wachsen sollte und man sagen würde, man läßt sie nicht zum Keimen kommen, sondern sie soll weiter wachsen, sie soll immer weiter, weiter blühen. Nicht wahr, so würde sie wachsen: eine Blüte hervorbringen; jetzt keinen Keim, sondern wieder eine Blüte, wieder eine Blüte und so fort. Es ist also durchaus notwendig, daß man sich in diese Dinge ganz innerlich hineinfindet, und daß man ein Gefühl entwickelt für den historischen Wendepunkt, auf dem wir heute stehen.
Aber geradeso wie in einem Organismus jede Einzelheit notwendig so geformt ist, wie sie eben geformt ist, so ist in der Welt, in der wir leben und an der wir mitgestalten, alles so zu formen, wie es im Sinne des Ganzen an seinem Orte geformt werden muß. Sie können sich nicht denken, wenn Sie real denken, daß Ihr Ohrläppchen auch nur im allergeringsten anders geformt wäre, als es eben ist in Gemäßheit Ihres ganzen Organismus. Wäre Ihr Ohrläppchen nur ein bißchen anders geformt, dann müßten Sie auch eine ganz andere Nase, Sie müßten andere Fingerspitzen haben und so weiter. Und so muß auch die Rede, in die sich etwas ergießt, was wirklich neue Formen annimmt, durchaus — so wie das Ohrläppchen im Sinne des ganzen Menschen geformt ist - im Sinne der ganzen Sache gehalten sein.
Sie kann nicht gehalten sein in der Art, die man lernen kann etwa von der Predigtrede. Denn die Predigtrede, wie wir sie heute noch immer haben, beruht auf der Tradition, die eigentlich zurückgeht bis in den alten Orient; und sie beruht ja auf einer besonderen Stellung, welche der ganze Mensch im alten Orient zu der Sprache hatte. Diese Eigentümlichkeit ist dann fortgesetzt worden, so daß sie lebte in einer gewissen freien Weise in Griechenland, lebte in Rom und heute ihr letztes Aufflackern am deutlichsten zeigt in dem besonderen Verhältnis, das der Franzose zu seiner Sprache hat. Nicht als ob ich damit sagen wollte, daß jeder Franzose predigt, wenn er spricht, aber ein ähnliches Verhältnis, wie es sich aus dem orientalischen Verhältnis zur Sprache entwickeln mußte, lebt durchaus noch in der französischen Handhabung der Sprache weiter fort, nur eben durchaus in abschüssiger Bewegung.
Dieses Element, zu dem wir da hinschauen können in bezug auf das Sprachliche, das ist zum Ausdrucke gekommen, als man das Reden noch etwa so lernte, wie man es dann später, aber schon im Verfallsstadium, lernen konnte von den Professoren, die eigentlich durchaus wie Mumien aus alten Zeiten weiterlebten, und die den Titel trugen «Professor für Eloquenz». Es war in früheren Zeiten fast an jeder Universität, an jeder Schule, auch an den Seminarien und so weiter, solch ein Professor für Eloquenz, für Rhetorik. Der berühmte Curtius in Berlin führte eigentlich offiziell noch den Titel «Professor für Eloquenz». Aber die Geschichte ist ihm zu dumm geworden und er hat nicht Eloquenz vorgetragen, sondern hat sich als Professor für Eloquenz nur dadurch gezeigt, daß er vom Professorenkollegium immer ausgeschickt worden ist bei festlichen Gelegenheiten, weil das immer die Aufgabe des Professors für Eloquenz war. Da hat es sich Curtius allerdings sehr angelegen sein lassen, seine Aufgabe für solche festlichen Gelegenheiten dadurch zu lösen, daß er die alten Regeln der Eloquenz möglichst wenig berücksichtigt hat. Im übrigen war es ihm zu dumm, Professor der Eloquenz zu sein in Zeiten, in die eben Professoren der Eloquenz nicht mehr hineinpassen, und er hat Kunstgeschichte, griechische Kunstgeschichte vorgetragen. Aber im Universitätsverzeichnis war er angeführt als «Professor der Eloquenz». Das weist uns zurück auf ein Element, das im Reden in den alten Zeiten durchaus vorhanden war.
Nun, wenn wir etwas, was ganz besonders charakteristisch ist, die Ausbildung des Redens für die mitteleuropäischen Sprachen, also für das Deutsche etwa, nehmen, so hat ja alles, was man im ursprünglichen Sinne mit dem Wort Eloquenz bezeichnen kann, nicht den allergeringsten Sinn. Denn in diese Sprachen ist schon etwas eingeflossen, was durchaus anders ist als dasjenige, was dem Reden in den Zeiten eigen war, wo man die Eloquenz ernst nehmen mußte. Für die griechische, für die lateinische Sprache gibt es Eloquenz. Für die deutsche Sprache ist eine Eloquenz etwas ganz Unmögliches, wenn man innerlich auf das Wesenhafte sieht.
Nun leben wir aber heute durchaus in einem Übergange. Das kann auch nicht fortgebraucht werden, was etwa das Redeelement der deutschen Sprache war. Es muß durchaus versucht werden, aus diesem Redeelement herauszukommen und in ein anderes Redeelement hineinzukommen. Und das ist mit die Aufgabe, die in einem gewissen Sinne zu lösen hat, wer über Anthroposophie oder Dreigliederung heute fruchtbar reden soll. Denn erst, wenn eine größere Anzahl von Menschen so zu reden vermag, werden Anthroposophie und Dreigliederung in der Offentlichkeit auch in einzelnen Vorträgen richtig verstanden werden, während nicht wenige sind, die nur ein Pseudoverständnis und Pseudobekenntnisse entwickeln.
Wenn wir zurückblicken auf das besondere Element, das in bezug auf das Reden in den Zeiten vorhanden war, aus denen sich erhalten hat die Handhabung der Eloquenz, so müssen wir sagen: Da war es so, daß die Sprache wie herauswuchs aus dem Menschen, in ganz naiver Weise, wie seine Finger wachsen, wie seine zweiten Zähne wachsen. Im Nachahmungsprozeß ergab sich das Sprechen, ergab sich die Sprache mit ihrer ganzen Organisation. Und man kam erst nach der Sprache zu dem Gebrauch des Denkens.
Und nun war es so, daß der Mensch, wenn er zu anderen Menschen unter irgendeiner Aufgabe sprach, darauf zu sehen hatte, daß das innere Erlebnis, das Gedankenerlebnis gewissermaßen einschnappte in die Sprache. Die Satzfügung war da. Sie war in einer gewissen Weise elastisch und dehnbar. Und innerlicher als die Sprache war das Gedankenelement. Man erlebte das Gedankenelement als etwas Innerlicheres als die Sprache und ließ es dann einschnappen in die Sprache, so daß es hineinpaßte, geradeso wie man in den Marmor hineinpaßt, was man als die Idee irgendeiner Statue oder dergleichen hat. Es war durchaus ein künstlerisches Bearbeiten der Sprache. Es hatte sogar die Art und Weise, wie man auch im Prosaischen zu sprechen hatte, etwas Ähnliches mit dem, wie man sich im Poetischen auszudrücken hatte. Rhetorik, Eloquenz hatten Regeln, die gar nicht unähnlich waren den Regeln des poetischen Ausdruckes. Ich möchte hier, damit ich nicht mißverstanden werde, einfügen, daß die Entwickelung der Sprache nicht etwa die Poesie ausschließt. Was ich jetzt sage, sage ich für ältere Arten des Ausdruckes, und ich bitte, das nicht so aufzufassen, als wenn ich behaupten wollte, heute könne es überhaupt nicht mehr Poesie geben. Wir haben nur nötig, die Sprache in der Poesie anders zu behandeln. Aber das gehört ja nicht hierher; das möchte ich nur in Parenthese einfügen, damit ich nicht mißverstanden werde.
Und wenn wir nun fragen: Wie hatte man also in dieser Zeit zu sprechen, in welcher der Gedanke, der Empfindungsgehalt in die Sprache einschnappte? — Man hatte schön zu sprechen! Das war die erste Aufgabe: schön zu sprechen. Schön sprechen kann man daher eigentlich auch nur lernen, indem man sich vertieft in die alte Art zu sprechen. Schön zu sprechen hatte man. Und das schöne Sprechen ist durchaus eine Gabe, welche der Menschheit aus dem Oriente zukommt. Man möchte sagen: Schön zu sprechen hatte man bis dahin, daß man eigentlich als Ideal des Sprechens angesehen hat das Singen, das Singen der Sprache. Und nur eine Form dieses Schönsprechens ist das Predigen, wobei manches abgestreift ist von dem Schönsprechen. Denn das volle Schönsprechen ist das kultische Sprechen. Gießt sich das kultische Sprechen in die Predigt aus, so ist schon manches abgestreift. Aber immerhin ist die Predigt eine Tochter des Schönsprechens im Kultus.
Die zweite Form, die dann insbesondere ja in der deutschen Sprache und in ähnlichen Sprachen zum Ausdruck gekommen ist, ist diese, die eigentlich gar nicht bedingt ist, so daß man gar nicht mehr recht unterscheiden kann zwischen dem Worte und dem Begreifen, dem Worte und dem Gedankenerlebnis; das Wort ist abstrakt geworden, so daß es selbst wie eine Art Gedanke sich ausnimmt. Es ist das Element, wo abgestreift ist das Verständnis für die Sprache selbst. Es kann nicht mehr einschnappen, weil man das Einschnappende und dasjenige, in das eingeschnappt werden soll, schon von vornherein wie Eines empfindet.
Wer ist sich denn heute im Deutschen zum Beispiel klar, wenn er aufschreibt «Begriff», daß dies das substantivierte Begreifen ist, das Be-greifen, das Greifen mit einer Vorsilbe ist also, das Greifen an etwas ausführen, daß «Begriff» also nichts anderes ist als das substantivierte gegenständliche Anschauen? In einer Zeit ist der Begriff «Begriff» gebildet worden, als man noch eine lebendige Empfindung hatte von dem Ätherleibe, der die Dinge angreift. So daß man dazumal wirklich den Begriff des Begriffes bilden konnte, weil das Angreifen mit dem physischen Leibe eben nur ein Bild ist von dem Angreifen mit dem Ätherleibe.
Aber, um in dem Worte Begriff das Begreifen zu hören, dazu gehört ja, daß man die Sprache als einen eigenen Organismus empfindet. In dem Elemente des Sprechens, von dem ich jetzt berichte, da schwimmt ja Sprache und Begriff immer durcheinander, da ist gar nicht jene scharfe Trennung, die einst im Oriente vorhanden war, wo die Sprache ein Organismus ist, mehr äußerlich ist, und das, was sich ausspricht, innerlich lebt. Und einschnappen mußte beim Reden das innerlich Lebende in die sprachliche Form, und zwar so einschnappen, daß das innerlich Lebende der Inhalt ist, und das, worin es einschnappte, die äußere Form. Und dieses Einschnappen mußte im Sinne des Schönen geschehen, so daß man also ein wirklicher Sprachkünstler ist, wenn man reden will.
Das ist nicht mehr der Fall, wenn man zum Beispiel keine Empfindung mehr dafür hat, zu unterscheiden zwischen Gehen und Laufen in bezug auf das Sprachliche als solches. Gehen: zwei e, man wandelt dahin, ohne daß man sich dabei anstrengt; e ist immer der Empfindungsausdruck für die geringe Teilnahme, die man hat an der eigenen Tätigkeit. Wenn man ein au im Worte hat, da ist diese Teilnahme gesteigert. Beim Laufen kommt es auch zum Schnaufen, wo derselbe Vokal drinnen ist. Da kommt das Innere in Aufruhr. Da muß ein Laut da sein, der diese Modifikation des Inneren andeutet. Aber das alles ist ja heute nicht mehr da; die Sprache ist abstrakt geworden. Sie ist wie die dahinfließenden Gedanken selber für das ganze mittlere und namentlich auch für das westliche Gebiet der Zivilisation.
In jedem einzelnen Worte ist es möglich, ein Bild, eine Imagination zu schauen, und in diesem Bilde kann man so leben wie in etwas relativ Objektivem. Derjenige, der noch in älteren Zeiten der Sprache gegenübergestanden hat, der wird ebensowenig in die Lage gekommen sein, die Sprache als etwas zu betrachten, das nicht objektiv mit ihm verbunden gewesen wäre und in das das Subjektive sich hineinergossen hätte, wie er niemals aus dem Auge verloren hat, daß sein Rock etwas Objektives ist und nicht mit seinem Leibe als eine andere Haut zusammengewachsen ist.
Die zweite Stufe der Sprache dagegen nimmt ja überhaupt den ganzen Organismus der Sprache wie eine andere Haut der Seele, während die Sprache vorher viel loser, ich möchte sagen, wie ein Kleid da war. Ich spreche jetzt von der Stufe der Sprache, bei der nicht mehr in erster Linie in Betracht kommt, schön zu sprechen, sondern richtig zu sprechen, bei der es sich nicht um Rhetorik und Eloquenz, sondern um Logik handelte, in der die Grammatik selber so weit logisch wurde, daß man ja einfach - und zwar kommt das seit Aristoteles’ Zeiten langsam herauf — aus den grammatikalischen Formen die logischen entwickelte, von den grammatikalischen die logischen abstrahierte. Es ist ja alles da zusammengeschwommen: Gedanke und Wort. Der Satz ist dasjenige, woran man das Urteil entwickelt. Aber das Urteil ist ja eigentlich in dem Satze so gelegen, daß man es nicht mehr innerlich selbständig erlebt. Richtigsprechen, das ist die Signatur geworden.
Nun aber sehen wir heute schon ein neues Element des Sprechens heraufkommen, nur überall am falschen Ort angewendet, auf ein ganz falsches Gebiet übertragen. Das Schönsprechen verdankt die Menschheit dem Orient. Das Richtigsprechen liegt im mittleren Gebiet der Zivilisation. Und nach dem Westen müssen wir hinschauen, wenn wir das dritte Element suchen.
Aber in diesem Westen kommt es zunächst ganz korrumpiert herauf. Wie kommt es herauf? Nun, zunächst ist die Sprache abstrakt geworden. Was Wortorganismus ist, das ist fast schon Gedankenorganismus. Und im Westen hat sich das allmählich so gesteigert, daß man es dort vielleicht sogar für spaßhaft ansehen würde, solche Dinge noch zu erörtern. Aber es ist schon, auf einem ganz falschen Gebiete, der Fortschritt durchaus vorhanden.
Sehen Sie, in Amerika hat sich aufgetan gerade im letzten Drittel des 19. Jahrhunderts eine philosophische Richtung, welche «Pragmatismus» genannt wird. In England hat man sie dann «Humanismus» genannt. James ist der Vertreter in Amerika, Schiller der Vertreter in England. Es sind dann Persönlichkeiten da, die nun schon daran sind, diese Dinge etwas zu erweitern. So gebührt das Verdienst, gerade diesen Begriff des Humanismus in einem sehr schönen Sinne erweitert zu haben, dem neulich hier anwesend gewesenen Professor Mackenzie.
Worauf laufen diese Bestrebungen denn hinaus? Ich meine jetzt den amerikanischen Pragmatismus und den englischen Humanismus. Sie gehen hervor aus einer vollständigen Skepsis gegenüber der Erkenntnis: Wahrheit ist etwas, was es eigentlich gar nicht gibt! Wenn wir zwei Behauptungen aufstellen, so stellen wir sie eigentlich aus dem Grunde auf, um im Leben Richtpunkte zu haben. Von einem «Atom» zu sprechen — man kann nicht irgendeinen besonderen Wahrheitsgrund dafür aufbringen; aber es ist nützlich, in der Chemie die Atomtheorie zugrunde zu legen; also stellen wir den Begriff des Atoms auf. Er ist brauchbar, er ist nützlich. Es gibt keine andere Wahrheit als eine solche, die in nützlichen, für das Leben brauchbaren Begriffen lebt. «Gott», ob es ihn gibt oder nicht, darauf kommt es nicht an. Wahrheit, das ist so irgend etwas, was uns nichts angeht. Doch es läßt sich nicht gut leben, wenn man nicht den Begriff «Gott» aufstellt; es läßt sich wirklich gut leben, wenn man so lebt, als ob es einen Gott gäbe. Also stellen wir ihn auf, weil es ein für das Leben brauchbarer, nützlicher Begriff ist. Ob die Erde im Sinne der Kant-Laplaceschen Theorie begonnen hat und im Sinne der mechanischen Wärmetheorie enden wird, vom Wahrheitsstandpunkt aus weiß kein Mensch etwas darüber - ich referiere jetzt bloß -, aber es ist nützlich für unser Denken, sich den Anfang der Erde und das Ende der Erde so vorzustellen. Das ist die pragmatistische Lehre von James und auch im wesentlichen die humanistische Lehre von Schiller. Schließlich weiß man auch gar nicht, ob der Mensch nun wirklich, wenn man vom Wahrheitsstandpunkt ausgeht, eine Seele hat. Darüber kann man diskutieren bis ans Ende der Welt, ob es eine Seele gibt oder nicht, aber nützlich ist es, wenn man all das, was der Mensch da im Leben ausführt, begreifen will, eine Seele anzunehmen.
Natürlich, es verbreitet sich alles das, was da an einem Orte heute in unserer Zivilisation auftritt, wiederum über die anderen Orte. Und für solche Dinge, die instinktiv im Westen aufgetreten sind, mußte der Deutsche etwas finden, was nun mehr begrifflich ist, was sich leichter begrifflich durchschauen läßt. Und daraus entstand die Philosophie des «Als Ob»: Ob es ein Atom gibt oder nicht, darauf kommt es nicht an; wir betrachten die Erscheinungen so, «als ob» es ein Atom gäbe. Ob das Gute sich realisieren kann oder nicht, darüber kann man nicht entscheiden; wir betrachten das Leben so, «als ob» das Gute sich realisieren könnte. Ob es einen Gott gibt oder nicht, darüber könnte man ja bis ans Ende der Welt streiten; wir betrachten aber das Leben so, daß wir handeln, «als ob» es einen Gott gäbe. Da haben Sie die «Als Ob»-Philosophie.
Man beachtet diese Dinge wenig, weil man sich denkt: Nun ja, da sitzt in Amerika der James mit seinen Schülern, da sitzt Schiller in England mit seinen Schülern; da ist der Vaihinger, der die Philosophie des «Als Ob» geschrieben hat: das sind so ein paar Käuze, die leben so in einer Art Wolkenkuckucksheim, und was geht das die anderen Menschen an!
Wer aber das Ohr dafür hat, der hört heute die «Als Ob»-Philosophie schon überall anklingen: Fast alle Menschen reden im Sinne der «Als Ob»-Philosophie. Die Philosophen sind nur ganz spaßige Kerle. Die plauschen immer das aus, was die anderen Menschen unbewußt machen. Wenn man unbefangen genug dazu ist, so hört man heute nur selten einen Menschen, der seine Worte noch anders gebraucht, im Zusammenhang mit seinem Herzen und mit seiner ganzen Seele, mit seinem ganzen Menschen, der anders spricht, als wie wenn die Sache so wäre, wie er sie ausdrückt. Man hat nur gewöhnlich nicht das Ohr dafür, im Klang und in der Farbentönung des Sprechens zu hören, daß dieses «Als Ob» drinnen lebt, daß im Grunde genommen die Menschen schon über die ganze Zivilisation hin von diesem «Als Ob» ergriffen sind.
Aber so, wie sonst die Dinge am Ende in Korruption kommen, zeigt sich da etwas korrumpiert am Anfange, was nun gerade in einem höheren Sinne entwickelt werden muß für die Handhabung der Rede in Anthroposophie, in Dreigliederung und so weiter. So ernst, so wichtig sind diese Dinge, daß wir über sie eigentlich extra reden sollten. Denn es wird sich darum handeln, daß wir die Trivialität «Wir gebrauchen Begriffe, weil sie nützlich sind für das Leben», daß wir diese Trivialität einer materialistischen Utilitätstheorie ins Ethische hinaufheben und vielleicht durch das Ethische ins Religiöse. Denn die Aufgabe steht vor uns, wenn wir wirken wollen im Sinne von Anthroposophie und von Dreigliederung, daß wir hinzulernen zu dem, was wir aus der Geschichte uns aneignen können — zu dem Schönsprechen, zu dem Richtigsprechen -, das Gutsprechen, daß wir ein Ohr erhalten für das Gutsprechen.
Ich habe bis jetzt wenig bemerkt, daß es aufgefallen ist, wenn ich im Verlaufe meiner Vorträge hingewiesen habe — ich habe es sehr häufig getan — auf dieses in diesem Sinne Gutsprechen, indem ich immer gesagt habe, es komme heute nicht allein darauf an, daß dasjenige, was man sagt, im logisch-abstrakten Sinne richtig ist, sondern es komme darauf an, daß in einem gewissen Zusammenhang etwas gesagt wird, oder auch unterlassen wird zu sagen, nicht gesagt wird in diesem Zusammenhange; daß man ein Gefühl dafür entwickelt, daß etwas nicht nur richtig sein soll, sondern daß es in seinem Zusammenhang drinnen gerechtfertigt ist, daß es gut sein kann in einem gewissen Zusammenhange, oder schlecht sein kann in einem gewissen Zusammenhange. Wir müssen lernen, über die Rhetorik, über die Logik hinaus eine wirkliche Ethik des Sprechens. Wir müssen wissen, wie wir uns in einem gewissen Zusammenhange Dinge erlauben dürfen, die in einem anderen Zusammenhange gar nicht gestattet wären.
Da darf ich jetzt ein naheliegendes Beispiel gebrauchen, das vielleicht schon einigen von Ihnen, die letzthin bei den Vorträgen anwesend waren, hat auffallen können: Ich habe in einem gewissen Zusammenhang davon gesprochen, daß Goethe eigentlich in Wirklichkeit gar nicht geboren ist. Ich habe davon gesprochen, daß Goethe lange Zeit sich bemüht hat, malerisch sich auszudrücken, zu zeichnen, aber daß daraus nichts geworden ist, daß das dann übergeflossen ist in seine Dichtungen, und daß wiederum in den Dichtungen, wie zum Beispiel in «Iphigenie» oder besonders in der «Natürlichen Tochter» ja gar nicht im schwärmerischen Sinne Dichtungen vorliegen. «Marmorglatt und marmorkalt», haben die Leute diese Dichtungen Goethes genannt, weil sie fast bildhauerisch sind, weil sie plastisch sind. Goethe hatte lauter Fähigkeiten, die eigentlich gar nicht bis zur Menschwerdung gediehen sind; er ist gar nicht wirklich geboren. — Sehen Sie, in jenem Zusammenhang, in dem ich das ausgesprochen habe letzthin, konnte man es ganz gewiß sagen. Aber denken Sie sich, wenn das einer als eine These für sich im absoluten Sinne vertreten würde! Es wäre nicht nur unlogisch; es wäre selbstverständlich ganz verrückt.
Aus dem Lebenszusammenhang heraus sprechen ist etwas anderes, als die Adäquatheit oder Richtigkeit eines Wortzusammenhanges finden für den Gedanken- und Empfindungszusammenhang. Heraus entstehen lassen aus einem lebendigen Zusammenhange an einer bestimmten Stelle ein Diktum oder dergleichen, das ist dasjenige, was hinüberführt von der Schönheit, von der Richtigkeit zu dem Ethos der Sprache, wobei man empfindet, wenn man einen Satz ausspricht, ob man ihn aussprechen darf oder nicht aussprechen darf in dem ganzen Zusammenhange. Da gibt es wiederum, aber jetzt ein verinnerlichtes Zusammenwachsen, jetzt nicht mit der Sprache, sondern mit der Rede. Das ist es, was ich das Gutsprechen oder Schlechtsprechen nennen möchte; die dritte Form. Neben dem Schön- und Häßlichsprechen, neben dem Richtig- oder Unrichtigsprechen kommt das Gut- oder Schlechtsprechen in dem Sinne, wie ich das jetzt dargestellt habe.
Es ist heute noch vielfach die Ansicht verbreitet, es gäbe Sätze, die man formt und die man dann bei jeder Gelegenheit sprechen könne, weil sie absolut gelten. Solche Sätze gibt es nämlich in Wirklichkeit für unser Leben in der Gegenwart nicht mehr, sondern jeder Satz, der in einem gewissen Zusammenhang möglich ist, ist für einen anderen Zusammenhang heute schon unmöglich. Das heißt, wir sind in eine Epoche der Menschheitsentwickelung eingetreten, wo wir nötig haben, auf diese Vielseitigkeit des Erlebens unser Augenmerk zu lenken.
Der Orientale, der mit seinem ganzen Denken in einem kleinen Territorium lebte, auch noch der Grieche, der mit seinem Geistesleben, mit seinem Rechtsleben, mit seinem Wirtschaftsleben auf einem kleinen Territorium lebte, der goß auch in seine Sprache etwas hinein, was so aussieht, wie ein sprachliches Kunstwerk aussehen muß. Wie ist es denn bei einem Kunstwerk? So ist es, daß in einem einzelnen geschlossenen Objekte eigentlich ein Unendliches erscheint auf einem bestimmten Gebiete. So ist sogar, wenn auch einseitig, das Schöne definiert worden von Hegel, von Hartmann und anderen: Es ist die Erscheinung der Idee in einem abgeschlossenen Formgebilde. Es ist das erste, wogegen ich mich wenden mußte in meinem Wiener Vortrag «Goethe als Vater einer neuen Ästhetik», daß das Schöne «die Erscheinung der Idee in der äußeren Form» sei, indem ich zeigte, daß man gerade das Umgekehrte meinen müsse: daß das Schöne entsteht, wenn man der Form den Schein des Unendlichen gibt.
Und so ist es mit der Sprache, die gewissermaßen auch als begrenztes Territorium auftritt, als Territorium, welches die mögliche Bedeutung in Grenzen einschließt: wenn in diese Sprache einschnappen muß dasjenige, was eigentlich an innerem Seelen- und Geistesleben unendlich ist. Da muß es in schöner Form zum Ausdrucke kommen.
Beim Richtigsprechen, da muß es adäquat sein, da muß der Satz zum Urteil, der Begriff zum Wort passen. Dazu waren die Römer genötigt, ganz besonders als ihr Territorium immer größer und größer wurde: da formte sich ihre Sprache um aus dem Schönen ins Logische, daher dann die Sitte beibehalten worden ist, gerade in der lateinischen Sprache den Leuten Logik beizubringen. Sie haben es ja auch daran ganz gut gelernt.
Aber nun sind wir wiederum über dieses Stadium hinaus. Nun ist es notwendig, daß wir die Sprache empfinden lernen mit Ethos, daß wir gewissermaßen eine Art Moralität des Sprechens in unsere Rede hinein gewinnen, indem wir wissen, wir haben uns in einem gewissen Zusammenhange etwas zu gestatten oder etwas zu versagen. Da schnappt die Sache nicht ein in der Weise, wie ich es früher geschildert habe, sondern da verwenden wir, indem wir das Wort gebrauchen, dieses Wort, um zu charakterisieren. Da hört alles Definieren auf; da wird das Wort verwendet, um zu charakterisieren. Da wird das Wort so gehandhabt, daß man eigentlich jedes Wort als etwas Ungenügendes empfindet, jeden Satz als etwas Ungenügendes empfindet, und den Drang hat, dasjenige, was man hinstellen will vor die Menschheit, von den verschiedensten Seiten her zu charakterisieren, gewissermaßen um die Sache herumzugehen und sie von den verschiedensten Seiten zu charakterisieren. Ich habe oft betont, daß das die Darstellungsweise der Anthroposophie sein muß. Ich habe es oft betont, daß man ja nicht glauben solle, man könne das adäquate Wort, den adäquaten Satz finden, sondern man kann sich nur so verhalten wie der Photograph, der, um einen Baum zu zeigen, wenigstens vier Aspekte nimmt. Also heraufgehoben werden muß eine Anschauung, die sich in einer abstrakten, trivialen Philosophie als «Pragmatismus» und «Humanismus» auslebt, heraufgehoben muß sie werden ins Gebiet des Ethischen. Und dann muß sie sich zuerst ausleben im Ethos der Sprache: Wir müssen gut sprechen lernen. Das heißt, wir müssen für das Sprechen etwas erleben von alldem, was wir sonst erleben in bezug auf die Ethik, die Sittenlehre.
Und im Grunde genommen ist ja die Sache in der neueren Zeit recht anschaulich geworden. Da haben wir im Sprechen der Theosophen eine einfach schon durch die Sprache bedingte Altertümlichkeit, nämlich altertümlich in bezug auf die letzten Jahrhunderte materialistischer Färbung: «physischer Leib» — nun, er ist dick; «Ätherleib» — er ist dünner, nebelhaft; «astralischer Leib» — wiederum dünner, aber eben doch nur dünner; «Ich» — noch dünner. Nun kommen ja immerfort und immerfort neue Glieder der menschlichen Wesenheit: das wird immer dünner. Man weiß zuletzt schon gar nicht mehr, wie man zu dieser Dünnheit noch kommen kann, aber jedenfalls wird es nur immer dünner und dünner. Man kommt aus dem Materialismus nicht heraus. Das ist ja auch das Kennzeichen dieser theosophischen Literatur. Und das ist immer das Kennzeichen, was da auftritt, wenn über diese Dinge gesprochen werden soll, von dem theoretischen Sprechen bis zu dem, was ich einmal innerhalb der Theosophischen Gesellschaft in Paris erlebt habe, ich glaube, es war 1906. Da wollte eine Dame, die eine richtige kernfeste Theosophin war, ausdrücken, wie gut ihr einzelne Reden gefallen haben, die in dem Saal, wo wir waren, gesprochen worden sind; und da sagte sie: Es sind so gute Vibrationen da! - Und man merkte ihr an: eigentlich war dieses gemeint wie etwas, das man schnüffelt. Also die Düfte, die da zurückgeblieben waren von den Reden und die man so etwas erschnüffeln konnte, die waren eigentlich gemeint.
Wir müssen lernen, die Sprache loszureißen von der Adäquatheit. Denn sie kann adäquat sein nur dem Materiellen. Wollen wir sie für das Spirituelle verwenden im Sinne der heutigen Entwickelungsepoche der Menschheit, dann müssen wir sie freibekommen. Dann muß Freiheit in das Handhaben der Sprache hineinkommen. Und wenn man diese Dinge nicht abstrakt, sondern lebensvoll nimmt, so ist das erste, wo hineinkommen muß Philosophie der Freiheit in das Sprechen, in die Handhabung der Sprache. Denn das hat man nötig, sonst wird man nicht den Übergang finden zum Beispiel zu der Charakteristik des freien Geisteslebens.
Sehen Sie, für freies Geistesleben, das heißt Geistesleben, das aus seinen eigenen Gesetzen heraus da ist, es ist noch nicht sehr viel Verständnis in der gegenwärtigen Menschheit dafür vorhanden. Denn meistens versteht man unter freiem Geistesleben ein Gebilde, in dem Menschen leben, von denen jeder nach seinem eigenen Kikeriki kräht, wo jeder Hahn - verzeihen Sie das etwas merkwürdige Bild — auf seinem eigenen Misthaufen kräht, und wo dann die unglaublichsten Zusammenklänge aus diesem Krähen zustandekommen. In Wirklichkeit kommt beim freien Geistesleben nämlich durchaus Harmonie zustande, weil der Geist lebt, nicht die einzelnen Egoisten, weil der Geist wirklich über die einzelnen Egoisten hinüber ein eigenes Leben führen kann.
Es ist zum Beispiel - man muß diese Dinge schon heute sagen — für unsere Waldorfschule in Stuttgart durchaus ein Waldorfschulgeist da, der unabhängig ist von der Lehrerschaft, in den die Lehrerschaft sich hineinlebt, und in dem es immer mehr und mehr klar wird, daß unter Umständen der eine fähiger oder unfähiger sein kann — der Geist aber hat ein eigenes Leben.
Es ist eine Abstraktion, von der sich heute noch die Menschen eine Vorstellung machen, wenn sie von «freiem Geist» sprechen. Das ist ja gar keine Wirklichkeit. Der freie Geist ist etwas, was wirklich lebt unter den Menschen, man muß ihn nur zum Dasein kommen lassen, und was wirkt unter den Menschen, man muß ihn nur zum Dasein kommen lassen.
Was ich heute zu Ihnen gesprochen habe, habe ich im Grunde auch nur gesprochen, um das, was wir hier profitieren sollen, von prinzipiellen Empfindungen ausgehen zu lassen, also von der Empfindung des Ernstes der Sache. Ich kann natürlich nicht meinen, daß jetzt alle gleich hinausgehen und so, wie die Alten schön gesprochen haben, die Mittleren richtig, nun alle gut sprechen werden! Aber Sie können deshalb auch nicht einwenden: Was helfen uns denn dann unsere ganzen Vorträge, wenn wir ja doch nicht gleich gut sprechen können? — Sondern es handelt sich darum, daß wir wirklich die Empfindung bekommen von dem Ernst der Lage, in die wir uns dadurch hineinleben sollen, daß wir wissen: Was da gewollt wird, ist etwas in sich so organisch Ganzes, daß sich selbst in der Sprache nach und nach ausdrücken muß eine Notwendigkeit der Form, wie sich in dem Ohrläppchen eine Notwendigkeit der Form ausdrückt, wie das nicht anders sein kann, je nachdem der ganze Mensch ist.
So werde ich versuchen, dann noch näher zusammenzubringen, was nun bei uns Inhalt von Anthroposophie und Dreigliederung ist, mit der Art, wie es an die Menschen herangebracht werden soll. Und ich werde aus dem Prinzipiellen in das Konkrete und in dasjenige, was dem Praktizieren zugrunde liegen soll, immer mehr und mehr hereinkommen.
Second Lecture
When we set out today to talk about anthroposophy and the threefold movement with its various consequences – which, of course, arise from anthroposophy and must essentially be thought out from it – then we must above all bear in mind that it is difficult to be understood. And without this feeling that it is difficult to be understood, we will hardly be able to cope in a satisfactory way as speakers for anthroposophical spiritual science and everything connected with it. For if we are to speak properly about anthroposophy, we must actually speak in a completely different way than we are accustomed to speaking about things in general according to the traditions of speech. People have often become accustomed to talking about anthroposophical matters in the same way they have been accustomed to talking about other things, especially in this age of materialism. But this tends to obstruct understanding of anthroposophy rather than opening the way to it.
First of all, we will have to clarify for ourselves the content, the substance, so to speak, that we encounter in anthroposophy and its consequences. And, as I said yesterday, in these lectures I will be dealing exclusively with the application of rhetoric to anthroposophical and related matters, so that what I have to say applies only to that.
We must now realize that, first of all, the feeling for the threefold social order must be awakened in our present humanity. It must be assumed that a contemporary audience does not really know what to make of the concept of the threefold social order, and our speech must slowly lead the audience to a feeling for this threefold social order.
In the age when materialism reigned supreme, people became accustomed to presenting the things of the outer world in a descriptive manner. The outer world itself provided a kind of guidance. And besides, the object of the external world was, I would say, too fixed for anyone to believe that it did not matter how one spoke about things in the external world, as long as one gave people guidance on how to view this external world. Well, and ultimately that is also the case: if you give a popular experimental lecture somewhere, for example, and show people how this or that substance reacts in the retort, then they see how this substance reacts in the retort, and whether you talk about it in this way or that way — a little better, a little less well, a little more appropriately, a little less appropriately — it doesn't matter in the end. And little by little, it has become the case that people attend such lectures and speeches to see what is being experimented with, and whatever else is said is taken in as a kind of more or less pleasant or unpleasant background noise. One has to express these things somewhat radically in order to point in the right direction in which civilization is moving with regard to these things. And when it comes to what one wants to inspire people to do, to want, one thinks that one must present ideals to them, that they must get used to understanding ideals, and then one gradually slips more and more into utopianism when it comes to something like the threefold social order.
This is how it has come about in many respects: many people who talk about the threefold social order today give the impression – through the way they talk – that it is some kind of utopia, something to strive for. And since people always think that what we should strive for will usually only come about in fifty or a hundred years, or some extend the time even longer, they then allow themselves, quite unconsciously, to talk about things as if they would only be ripe in a hundred or fifty years. One very quickly slips away from reality and then talks about things like: How will a grocery store be set up in the threefold social organism? What will the relationship of the individual to the sewing machine be in the threefold social organism? — and so on. These questions are indeed asked in abundance in relation to an endeavor such as the threefold social organism. In the face of such an endeavor, which has all its roots in reality, one should certainly not speak in this utopian way. For one should always evoke at least this feeling that the threefold social organism is not something that can be made, made in the sense that state constitutions are made in some kind of parliament, such as the Weimar National Assembly was. That is something you make! But in the same sense, one cannot speak of making the threefold social organism.
It is precisely the nature of an organism that it does not need to be organized, that it organizes itself. What can be organized is not an organism. We must approach things with these feelings from the outset, otherwise we will not be able to find the possibility of appropriate expression.
The threefold structure is something that simply follows from the natural coexistence of human beings. This natural coexistence of human beings can be distorted by extending the characteristics of one member, the legal-state member, to the other two, as has been the case in recent history. Then these two other members are simply corrupted because they cannot flourish, just as someone cannot flourish if they are dressed in unsuitable clothing that is too heavy for them or similar.
In the natural context of human beings, the threefold social organism lives, independent spiritual life lives, legal or state life, which is based on the maturity of human beings, lives, and economic life, which is shaped solely from within, also lives. One can put straitjackets on spiritual life and economic life, even though there is no need to do so; but then their own life continually asserts itself, and what we then experience externally is precisely the assertion of their own life. It is therefore necessary to show, from the nature of human beings and from the nature of social coexistence, that the threefold social organism is a matter of course. Let us consider how spiritual life in Europe was completely independent and free until the 13th and 14th centuries, when what had been a free, independent spiritual life was first pushed into the universities. It was precisely during this period that the universities were founded, and the universities then gradually slipped back into state life. So we can say that from about the 13th to the 16th or 17th century, the universities slipped into state life, and with them, without people really noticing, the other educational institutions. They simply followed suit. That is one side of the story.
And on the other hand, we have, up to about the same age, free economic activity, which found its actual Central European expression in the free economic village communities. And just as free intellectual life slipped into the universities, which were first localized and then slipped under the control of the state, so economic organization first acquired a certain administration in the legal sense, as cities emerged more and more and began to organize this economic life, whereas previously it had grown as the village communities set the tone. And then we see how, again and again, more and more of what was centralized in the cities crept into the larger territories of the states. So we see how the tendency of recent times has been to allow spiritual life on the one hand and economic life on the other to creep into the states, which are increasingly taking on the character of territories constituted according to Roman law. That was actually the development in recent times.
And we have now reached the point in historical development where this can no longer continue, where a heart and a mind must once again develop for free spiritual life, because the spirit simply does not progress when it is in a straitjacket, because it only appears to progress, but in reality it still lags behind, never able to celebrate real births, but at most renaissances. And it is the same with economic life. We are simply at a point today where we must reverse the movement that has developed in the civilized world of Europe and its American appendage, where the opposite direction must be taken. For that which has developed for a time must arrive at a point where something new must begin. Otherwise, we run the risk of doing the same thing we would do if a plant were to grow and we said we would not let it germinate, but that it should continue to grow, that it should continue to bloom. Wouldn't it grow that way: producing a flower; not a seed now, but another flower, and another flower, and so on. So it is absolutely necessary to find one's way into these things completely inwardly and to develop a feeling for the historical turning point at which we stand today.
But just as in an organism every detail is necessarily shaped as it is, so in the world in which we live and which we help to shape, everything must be shaped as it needs to be shaped in the interests of the whole. If you think realistically, you cannot imagine that your earlobe could be shaped in any way other than it is, in accordance with your entire organism. If your earlobe were shaped even slightly differently, you would also have to have a completely different nose, different fingertips, and so on. And so speech, into which something pours itself that truly takes on new forms, must also be held in the spirit of the whole thing, just as the earlobe is shaped in the spirit of the whole human being.
It cannot be held in the manner that can be learned, for example, from sermon speech. For sermon speech, as we still have it today, is based on a tradition that actually goes back to the ancient Orient; and it is based on a special position that the whole human being had in the ancient Orient with regard to language. This peculiarity has been continued, so that it lived in a certain free way in Greece, lived in Rome, and today its last flare-up is most clearly evident in the special relationship that the French have with their language. Not that I mean to say that every French person preaches when they speak, but a relationship similar to that which must have developed from the Oriental relationship to language certainly lives on in the French use of language, only now in a downward spiral.
This element, which we can observe in relation to language, came to expression when people still learned to speak in much the same way as they later, but already in a state of decline, could learn from professors who actually lived on like mummies from ancient times and who bore the title “professor of eloquence.” In earlier times, almost every university, every school, even seminaries and so on, had such a professor of eloquence, of rhetoric. The famous Curtius in Berlin actually still officially held the title of “Professor of Eloquence.” But history had become too stupid for him, and he did not lecture on eloquence, but only showed himself to be a professor of eloquence in that he was always sent out by the faculty on festive occasions, because that was always the task of the professor of eloquence. Curtius, however, took great care to fulfill his task for such festive occasions by paying as little attention as possible to the old rules of eloquence. Incidentally, he found it too stupid to be a professor of eloquence in times when professors of eloquence no longer fit in, and he lectured on art history, Greek art history. But in the university directory he was listed as “Professor of Eloquence.” This brings us back to an element that was certainly present in speech in ancient times.
Now, if we take something that is particularly characteristic, the development of speech for the Central European languages, for example German, then everything that can be described in the original sense with the word eloquence has not the slightest meaning. For something has already flowed into these languages that is quite different from what was characteristic of speech in the days when eloquence had to be taken seriously. Eloquence exists for the Greek and Latin languages. For the German language, eloquence is something quite impossible if one looks inwardly at its essence.
But today we are living in a period of transition. What was once the element of speech in the German language can no longer be used. We must try to move away from this element of speech and enter into another. And that is one of the tasks that must be solved, in a certain sense, by those who want to talk fruitfully about anthroposophy or threefolding today. For only when a larger number of people are able to speak in this way will anthroposophy and threefolding be properly understood in public, even in individual lectures, whereas there are not a few who develop only a pseudo-understanding and pseudo-confessions.
When we look back at the special element that was present in relation to speech in the times from which the use of eloquence has been preserved, we must say: it was as if language grew out of human beings in a very naive way, just as their fingers grow, just as their second teeth grow. In the process of imitation, speech arose, language arose with its entire organization. And it was only after language that the use of thinking came about.
And now it was the case that when a person spoke to other people in the course of some task, they had to ensure that the inner experience, the thought experience, so to speak, snapped into language. The sentence structure was there. It was elastic and flexible in a certain way. And more internal than language was the element of thought. One experienced the element of thought as something more internal than language and then let it snap into language so that it fit into it, just as one fits into marble what one has as the idea of some statue or the like. It was definitely an artistic treatment of language. Even the way one had to speak in prose had something similar to the way one had to express oneself in poetry. Rhetoric and eloquence had rules that were not unlike the rules of poetic expression. To avoid any misunderstanding, I would like to add here that the development of language does not exclude poetry. What I am saying now applies to older forms of expression, and I ask you not to take it as if I were claiming that poetry can no longer exist today. We simply need to treat language differently in poetry. But that does not belong here; I would just like to add it in parentheses so that I am not misunderstood.
And if we now ask: How did people speak in this period, in which thought and feeling were captured in language? — They spoke beautifully! That was the first task: to speak beautifully. Therefore, one can only learn to speak beautifully by immersing oneself in the old way of speaking. One had to speak beautifully. And beautiful speech is definitely a gift that comes to humanity from the Orient. One might say: one had to speak beautifully to the extent that singing, the singing of language, was actually regarded as the ideal of speech. And preaching is only one form of this beautiful speech, whereby some aspects of beautiful speech have been stripped away. For beautiful speech in its fullest form is cultic speech. When cultic speech is poured into preaching, some aspects have already been stripped away. But preaching is nevertheless a daughter of beautiful speech in cult.
The second form, which has found expression particularly in the German language and in similar languages, is one that is not really conditioned at all, so that it is no longer possible to distinguish between the word and the concept, the word and the thought experience; the word has become abstract, so that it itself appears as a kind of thought. It is the element where the understanding of language itself has been stripped away. It can no longer snap into place because one already perceives the snapping and that into which it is to snap as one and the same thing from the outset.
Who today, for example, is aware when writing down “concept” that this is the substantivized grasping, the grasping, the grasping with a prefix, that is, the grasping of something, that “concept” is nothing other than the substantivized objective viewing? The term “concept” was formed at a time when people still had a vivid sense of the etheric body that touches things. So that at that time it was really possible to form the concept of the concept, because touching with the physical body is only an image of touching with the etheric body.
But in order to hear comprehension in the word concept, one must perceive language as a separate organism. In the element of speech that I am now describing, language and concept are always intermingled; there is not the sharp separation that once existed in the Orient, where language is an organism, more external, and what is expressed lives internally. And when speaking, what lives internally had to snap into the linguistic form, and snap in such a way that what lives internally is the content, and that into which it snaps is the external form. And this snapping had to happen in the sense of beauty, so that one is a true linguistic artist when one wants to speak.
This is no longer the case if, for example, one no longer has the sensitivity to distinguish between walking and running in relation to language as such. Walking: two e's, one strolls along without exerting oneself; e is always the expression of the feeling of the slight participation one has in one's own activity. If there is an au in the word, this participation is increased. Running also involves panting, which contains the same vowel. This causes inner turmoil. There must be a sound that indicates this modification of the inner self. But all of that is no longer there today; language has become abstract. It is like the flowing thoughts themselves for the entire middle and, in particular, the western region of civilization.
In every single word, it is possible to see an image, an imagination, and in this image one can live as in something relatively objective. Those who encountered language in earlier times would have been just as incapable of viewing language as something that was not objectively connected to them and into which the subjective had poured itself, just as they never lost sight of the fact that their coat was something objective and had not grown together with their body like a second skin.
The second stage of language, on the other hand, takes the whole organism of language as a second skin of the soul, whereas before, language was much looser, I would say, like a garment. I am now speaking of the stage of language in which it is no longer primarily a question of to speak beautifully, but rather to speak correctly, where it was not a matter of rhetoric and eloquence, but of logic, where grammar itself became so logical that one simply — and this has been slowly emerging since Aristotle's time — developed logical forms from grammatical forms, abstracted logical forms from grammatical forms. Everything has come together: thought and word. The sentence is what we use to form our judgment. But the judgment is actually so embedded in the sentence that we no longer experience it independently within ourselves. Speaking correctly has become the signature.
But today we are already seeing a new element of speech emerging, only it is being applied in the wrong place, transferred to a completely wrong area. Humanity owes beautiful speech to the Orient. Correct speech lies in the middle realm of civilization. And we must look to the West if we seek the third element.
But in this West, it initially emerges in a completely corrupted form. How does it emerge? Well, first of all, language has become abstract. What is a word organism is almost a thought organism. And in the West, this has gradually intensified to such an extent that it might even be considered amusing to discuss such things there. But progress is definitely there, albeit in a completely wrong area.
You see, in America, a philosophical movement called “pragmatism” emerged in the last third of the 19th century. In England, it was called “humanism.” James is its representative in America, Schiller its representative in England. There are now personalities who are already in the process of expanding these ideas somewhat. The credit for having expanded this concept of humanism in a very beautiful sense belongs to Professor Mackenzie, who was recently present here.
What do these endeavors amount to? I am referring to American pragmatism and English humanism. They arise from a complete skepticism toward knowledge: truth is something that does not actually exist! When we make two assertions, we actually make them in order to have points of reference in life. To speak of an “atom”—one cannot provide any particular reason for its truth; but it is useful to base chemistry on atomic theory, so we establish the concept of the atom. It is useful, it is practical. There is no truth other than that which lives in useful concepts that are practical for life. Whether “God” exists or not is irrelevant. Truth is something that does not concern us. But it is not easy to live well without establishing the concept of “God”; it is really easy to live well if one lives as if there were a God. So we establish it because it is a useful concept for life. Whether the earth began in the sense of Kant-Laplace's theory and will end in the sense of mechanical heat theory, from the point of view of truth, no one knows anything about it—I am merely referring to it now—but it is useful for our thinking to imagine the beginning of the earth and the end of the earth in this way. This is the pragmatic teaching of James and also, in essence, the humanistic teaching of Schiller. After all, from the standpoint of truth, we do not even know whether humans really have a soul. We can debate until the end of time whether there is a soul or not, but if we want to understand everything that humans do in life, it is useful to assume that there is a soul.
Of course, everything that occurs in one place in our civilization today spreads to other places. And for such things, which arose instinctively in the West, the Germans had to find something that is now more conceptual, something that is easier to understand conceptually. And this gave rise to the philosophy of “as if”: whether or not there is an atom is irrelevant; we regard phenomena “as if” there were an atom. Whether good can be realized or not, one cannot decide; we regard life as if good could be realized. Whether there is a God or not, one could argue about that until the end of the world; but we regard life in such a way that we act as if there were a God. There you have the “as if” philosophy.
People pay little attention to these things because they think: Well, there's James sitting in America with his students, there's Schiller sitting in England with his students; there's Vaihinger, who wrote the philosophy of “as if”: they're just a bunch of oddballs who live in a kind of cloud cuckoo land, and what does that have to do with other people!
But those who have an ear for it can hear the “as if” philosophy echoing everywhere today: almost everyone talks in terms of the “as if” philosophy. Philosophers are just very funny guys. They always talk about what other people do unconsciously. If you are open-minded enough, you will rarely hear anyone today who still uses their words differently, in connection with their heart and their whole soul, with their whole being, who speaks differently than if the thing were as they express it. Usually, people just don't have an ear for hearing in the sound and tone of speech that this “as if” lives within it, that basically people throughout civilization are already gripped by this “as if.”
But just as things ultimately end up in corruption, something corrupted shows itself at the beginning, which now needs to be developed in a higher sense for the use of speech in anthroposophy, in threefolding, and so on. These things are so serious, so important, that we should actually talk about them separately. For it will be a matter of elevating the triviality of “We use concepts because they are useful for life,” of elevating this triviality of a materialistic theory of utility to the ethical, and perhaps through the ethical to the religious. For if we want to work in the spirit of anthroposophy and threefolding, we are faced with the task of learning from what we can acquire from history — speaking beautifully, speaking correctly — speaking well, developing an ear for speaking well.
I have noticed little attention so far when I have pointed out in the course of my lectures — and I have done so very often — this speaking well in this sense, by always saying that that today it is not only important that what one says is correct in a logical-abstract sense, but that something is said in a certain context, or that something is omitted from being said, is not said in this context; that one develops a feeling that something should not only be correct, but that it is justified in its context, that it can be good in a certain context, or bad in a certain context. We must learn, beyond rhetoric and logic, a real ethic of speech. We must know how we can allow ourselves to do things in a certain context that would not be permitted in another context.
Let me use an obvious example that may have already struck some of you who were present at the recent lectures: I mentioned in a certain context that Goethe was not actually born. I mentioned that Goethe spent a long time trying to express himself through painting and drawing, but that nothing came of it, that this then spilled over into his poetry, and that in turn, in his poetry, for example in “Iphigenia” or especially in “The Natural Daughter,” there is no romanticism to be found. People have called these poems of Goethe's “smooth as marble and cold as marble” because they are almost sculptural, because they are plastic. Goethe had many abilities that did not actually come to fruition in his human form; he was not really born. — You see, in the context in which I recently expressed this, one could say that with certainty. But imagine if someone were to defend that as a thesis in the absolute sense! It would not only be illogical; it would, of course, be completely crazy.
Speaking from the context of life is different from finding the adequacy or correctness of a word connection for the context of thoughts and feelings. To let a dictum or something similar emerge from a living context at a certain point is what leads from beauty and correctness to the ethos of language, whereby one senses, when one utters a sentence, whether one may utter it or not in the whole context. There is, again, but now an internalized merging, not with language, but with speech. That is what I would like to call good speech or bad speech; the third form. In addition to beautiful and ugly speech, in addition to correct and incorrect speech, there is good and bad speech in the sense that I have now described.
Today, the view is still widely held that there are sentences that can be formed and then spoken on every occasion because they are absolutely valid. In reality, such sentences no longer exist for our lives in the present; rather, every sentence that is possible in a certain context is already impossible in another context today. This means that we have entered an epoch of human development in which we need to focus our attention on this diversity of experience.
The Oriental, who lived with his entire thinking in a small territory, and also the Greek, who lived with his intellectual life, his legal life, and his economic life in a small territory, also poured into his language something that looks like a linguistic work of art must look. How is it with a work of art? It is so that in a single closed object, something infinite actually appears in a certain area. This is how beauty has been defined, albeit one-sidedly, by Hegel, Hartmann, and others: it is the manifestation of the idea in a closed form. The first thing I had to address in my Vienna lecture “Goethe as the Father of a New Aesthetics” was that beauty is “the manifestation of the idea in the external form,” by showing that one must mean precisely the opposite: that beauty arises when one gives form the appearance of infinity.
And so it is with language, which in a sense also appears as a limited territory, as a territory that encloses possible meaning within boundaries: when that which is actually infinite in inner soul and spirit life must snap into this language. There it must be expressed in beautiful form.
When speaking correctly, it must be adequate; the sentence must fit the judgment, the concept must fit the word. The Romans were compelled to do this, especially as their territory grew larger and larger: their language was transformed from the beautiful to the logical, which is why the custom of teaching people logic in the Latin language was maintained. They learned it quite well, after all.
But now we are beyond that stage. Now it is necessary that we learn to feel language with ethos, that we gain a kind of morality of speech in our speech, knowing that we have to allow or deny ourselves something in a certain context. The matter does not click into place in the way I described earlier, but rather, when we use a word, we use that word to characterize. All defining ceases; the word is used to characterize. The word is used in such a way that one actually feels that every word is insufficient, every sentence is insufficient, and one has the urge to characterize what one wants to present to humanity from the most diverse sides, to go around the matter, so to speak, and characterize it from the most diverse sides. I have often emphasized that this must be the way anthroposophy is presented. I have often emphasized that one should not believe that one can find the adequate word, the adequate sentence, but that one can only behave like the photographer who, in order to show a tree, takes at least four aspects. So a view that is expressed in an abstract, trivial philosophy as “pragmatism” and “humanism” must be elevated; it must be elevated into the realm of ethics. And then it must first be lived out in the ethos of language: we must learn to speak well. This means that we must experience in our speech something of all that we otherwise experience in relation to ethics, to moral teaching.
And, basically, the matter has become quite clear in recent times. In the language of theosophists, we find an archaism that is simply conditioned by language, namely archaic in relation to the last centuries of materialistic coloring: “physical body” — well, it is thick; “etheric body” — it is thinner, nebulous; “astral body” — even thinner, but still only thinner; “I” — even thinner. Now, new members of the human being keep coming up: it gets thinner and thinner. In the end, you don't even know how to get to this thinness, but in any case, it just gets thinner and thinner. One cannot escape materialism. That is also the hallmark of this theosophical literature. And that is always the hallmark that appears when these things are to be discussed, from theoretical discourse to what I once experienced within the Theosophical Society in Paris, I believe it was in 1906. A lady who was a true, staunch theosophist wanted to express how much she had enjoyed individual speeches that had been given in the hall where we were; and she said: There are such good vibrations here! – And you could tell that she actually meant this as something you could sniff. So the scents that had lingered from the speeches and that one could sniff out were actually what she meant.
We must learn to detach language from adequacy. For it can only be adequate to the material. If we want to use it for the spiritual in the sense of humanity's current epoch of development, then we must free it. Then freedom must enter into the use of language. And if one takes these things not abstractly, but in a lively way, then the first thing that must enter is the philosophy of freedom in speech, in the use of language. For this is necessary, otherwise we will not find the transition, for example, to the characteristics of a free spiritual life.
You see, there is not yet much understanding among humanity today for a free spiritual life, that is, a spiritual life that exists according to its own laws. For the most part, free spiritual life is understood to be a construct in which people live, each crowing according to his own cock-a-doodle-doo, where each rooster — forgive the somewhat strange image — crows on his own dung heap, and where the most incredible harmonies then arise from this crowing. In reality, however, free spiritual life does indeed produce harmony, because it is the spirit that lives, not the individual egoists, because the spirit can truly lead its own life above and beyond the individual egoists.
For example, it must be said today that our Waldorf school in Stuttgart has a Waldorf school spirit that is independent of the teaching staff, that the teaching staff lives into, and in which it becomes increasingly clear that under certain circumstances one person may be more capable or less capable than another — but the spirit has a life of its own.
It is an abstraction that people still imagine today when they speak of “free spirit.” That is not reality at all. The free spirit is something that really lives among people; you just have to let it come into being, and what works among people, you just have to let it come into being.
What I have said to you today, I have basically only said in order to let what we are to profit from here proceed from fundamental feelings, that is, from a feeling of the seriousness of the matter. Of course, I cannot expect that everyone will now go out and speak as beautifully as the ancients did, or as correctly as the middle-aged, or as well as everyone else! But you cannot object: What good are all our lectures if we cannot speak well right away? — Rather, it is a matter of really gaining a sense of the seriousness of the situation, which we should live into by knowing: What is desired here is something so organically whole in itself that it must gradually express itself in language, a necessity of form, just as a necessity of form is expressed in the earlobe, just as it cannot be otherwise, depending on the whole human being.
So I will try to bring together more closely what is now the content of anthroposophy and threefolding for us with the way in which it should be presented to people. And I will move more and more from the principles to the concrete and to what should underlie the practice.