The Rudolf Steiner Archive

8. Modern History in the Light of Research in Spiritual Science

[ 1 ] Since I will have a great deal to say today about the course of humanity’s recent historical development from the perspective of spiritual science—as it has been and is intended in these lectures—I will be compelled to assume a number of things I have already stated in previous lectures. That will be the main thing I must take for granted—and, since I have only a limited amount of time at my disposal, I will not be able to repeat it today insofar as it applies here: that this spiritual science can substantiate, along the lines attempted in the first lecture, that human beings must strive with their soul forces to come to a recognition of a supersensible world, and that through a certain training of these soul forces—as I have characterized this training, at least in principle—insight into the realities of this supersensible world can also be gained by human beings.

[ 2 ] The task now is to apply precisely these fundamental truths of anthroposophically oriented spiritual science to one of the most significant areas of human experience—the field of history—and I must, of course, limit myself to what is closest to us: the historical development of modern humanity. History—unless one delves more deeply into the cultural development of humanity—is generally regarded as a very ancient science. But in truth, history—arising from beginnings that can by no means yet be called history—did not truly blossom until shortly before the second half of the 18th century. And in the sense in which we are accustomed to understanding history today, even from our school days—that is, as a means of seeking the laws of human development over the course of time—in this sense, history is actually a child of the 19th century.

[ 3 ] This historical science has emerged from the interest that people have always taken in other people and their fates, insofar as these other people and their fates are connected to one’s own life experience. One could say there is a straight line from the family chronicle to the desire to learn about one’s people and homeland—with which one is connected—and ultimately to those endeavors through which one seeks to recognize the laws of development governing all of humanity. And it is significant that the historical perspective, which otherwise always remained confined to the narrower circles mentioned, has been expanded to encompass all of humanity. It was only in more recent times—which we intend to examine historically here—that a general human interest in the overall development of humanity on Earth emerged from humanity’s more or less narrowly defined interests.

[ 4 ] From this alone, anyone willing to see it can discern that man’s pure interest in man as such is, in essence, a relatively recent phenomenon. Now the point is that, precisely because history springs from human interest in humanity, a pitfall arises when history seeks to ascend to an understanding of the lawful connections of human development. For this very thing very easily leads history into an abyss that has, to a greater or lesser extent, threatened every scientific inquiry at some point in time—an abyss that has been almost entirely overcome in more recent times by the natural sciences, but which often, quite unconsciously, creeps into people’s historical analysis: it is the perspective one might call anthropomorphistic, which arises when one projects onto the world and its phenomena what one finds within human beings themselves. The most obvious example—which has been successfully overcome by the natural sciences—is that when a person accomplishes something, they act with purpose and toward goals. Consequently, human beings are inclined to view what happens out in nature and what occurs in the course of historical development as if purposeful action in the same sense were to be sought there as one finds within human beings—that is, in oneself.

[ 5 ] Natural science has become great in the modern sense precisely because it eliminates this doctrine of finality, and also because it strives, at least, not to be anthropomorphic—even though it is, in many respects, unconsciously so. Goethe rightly said: “Man has no idea how anthropomorphic he is.” — But in the case of history, there is a particularly strong temptation to look for what one finds within oneself—since one wants to observe what is human—outside as well, in the course of historical development. And one can only overcome this pitfall—which has been present to a greater or lesser extent among the most ambitious thinkers of modern times when they sought to establish a kind of philosophy of history— one essentially overcomes it only when, in the contemplation of humanity itself, one already transcends those narrow limits of human nature that are characterized by the fact that human beings act according to the immediately subjective—that is, according to the ends that are possible for them in their inner life between birth and death.

[ 6 ] If, as described in the preceding days, one overcomes this purely sensory nature of the human being and the soul life bound to it between birth and death by elevating oneself to the supersensible human being, then one can carry what arises from the supersensible contemplation of the human being into historical development. For as the human being transcends himself by ascending to his supersensible being, he will no longer be able to be anthropomorphistic even in historical observation, since he is no longer so in his observation of his own being. Thus, simply by striving to avoid a certain pitfall in the observation of the world, one is led into the supersensible.

[ 7 ] When one then approaches historical development, equipped in one’s understanding with those powers that lead into the supersensible world, the facts of historical life appear in a completely new light, purely through supersensible perceptions. Then, in this new light, one asks oneself: Well, how is it really? Do certain facts recorded by history—which we find in our customary historical accounts—truly have such a close connection to human beings as is often attributed to them, when one assumes that human beings, as they appear, are a product of historical development, a product of the past? — But if one raises these questions solely in the light of supersensible knowledge, one very soon sees, when one turns one’s gaze to the events of history, how little of what people find within themselves in the present—for example, the impulses they find in the course of their lives—how little people can say: This or that is connected to this or that historical event of the past. — Just as the natural sciences, when pursued consistently, lead one beyond themselves, so too does a historical perspective lead one to conclude: Historical events, in a certain sense, fall apart. One cannot, in the ordinary sense, speak solely of cause and effect and regard the present merely as an effect of the past, insofar as the past contains what can be found in the sensible realm. One arrives at a historical perspective only when one connects human beings to the supersensible and does not seek in the historical facts themselves what they initially present externally, but rather seeks in them what is initially revealed to one: a supersensible process in world events in which human beings are interwoven.

[ 8 ] But then history becomes something other than the examination of successive facts; then history becomes what I would like to call a symptomatology. Then one does not view the individual facts as they simply present themselves in sensory life, but rather as symptoms through which one penetrates to a supersensory, transhistorical process lying beyond them. Then one will no longer be able to strive in the same way for an absolute completeness—which, in any case, cannot be achieved; anyone who has worked with historical material in any field knows this—but one will attempt, through the facts to be discovered—which are regarded as symptoms—to penetrate into what lies hidden behind these symptoms as great spiritual connections.

[ 9 ] Thus, when history is enriched by spiritual science, it will evolve from a purely factual science into a symptomatology. And in the sense I mean here, I would like to draw your attention to at least a few significant phenomena in the development of modern humanity, in order to show how the entire course of modern history presents itself when one attempts to look beyond the facts through the facts themselves.

[ 10 ] If one takes this approach, one very soon finds oneself compelled to depart from the structure we are accustomed to from school: that is, beginning modern history with all sorts of reflections on the voyages of discovery, the significance of the discovery of America, inventions, and the like. Rather, one feels compelled to ask: Where is the point—if we start with the present and look back at the course of history—where a real turning point occurs in the course of human development, where new ways of life and new social conditions emerge?

[ 11 ] In a comfortable worldview, people very often feel the urge to tell themselves that things simply unfold in such a way that what comes next arises successively from what came before, and that no significant upheavals or major turning points ever occur. People have even coined the convenient saying: “In nature, there are no sudden leaps.” — But one need only look at nature to see how leaps do occur! A plant first develops green leaves, then transforms them into colorful petals—a leap. And such leaps are found everywhere in nature, even though they contradict a common, convenient human prejudice.

[ 12 ] And indeed, even a superficial observation shows that in the world closest to us—the European world—a change in all forms of life began in the 15th century. What previously characterized humanity in particular—the state of its soul and how it translated this state into external historical deeds—began to change in the 15th century. And we can point, as it were, to a milestone—again from the standpoint of symptomatology—that marks a somewhat earlier event, which is an important turning point in the historical life of modern humanity: this is the pressure exerted by France on the Papacy in 1303, when the Pope was forced to move his residence from Rome to Avignon. Chronologically, this event almost entirely coincides with another: the destruction of the Order of the Knights Templar—this peculiar community, which in turn had a peculiar relationship with the Church—by the French government, and the confiscation of its assets.

[ 13 ] These events are turning points in the recent history of humanity because they show that people were fighting against something that had been a defining characteristic of the entire civilized world of that time for centuries. That characteristic was what found expression in those remarkable struggles—and the mutual support they engendered—that took place between the Central European Empire and the Papacy. But all these struggles must be viewed in the light of a very specific fact: People throughout the civilized world were not, as in the period that followed, divided into groups—such as national groups or the like— without each such division being overshadowed and surpassed by a common element that can only be expressed through a universal idea governing humanity, which extends to human actions, emanating on the one hand from the Roman Papacy, which, in a sense, sees itself as the unifier of humanity. Equally universal—though often in conflict with this universal community—was the medieval empire.

[ 14 ] Well, what falls under the turning point I have described is directed against this kind of unification of humanity. Such a unification, as it existed throughout the Middle Ages—in which people felt themselves to be part of a great whole—was built up over the centuries on the basis of certain unconscious impulses lying within the human soul; these were recognized by those in positions of leadership, upon whom people relied when unifying humanity. A certain sum of unconscious forces of the soul was addressed when humanity was brought together under the characterized aspects, insofar as it was then spread throughout the civilized world. The events at Avignon had opened up perceptible breaches in this mode of synthesis. This already gives us a sense that, precisely because of this, a new element must be introduced into the constitution, into the spiritual makeup, of Western humanity.

[ 15 ] And now we see how what is at work in Western Europe has long been influenced by an event that seems to sweep in naturally from the East. I need only mention everything that begins with the Mongol invasions and what follows in the form of migrations of people from the East to the West, from Asia across to Europe. These events mark turning points and shape the structure of coexistence for Europe and its people as the 135th century dawns. And despite all attempts to preserve the old ways, this structure will be different from what it once was, when it relied on unconscious impulses. Humanity finds itself compelled to move more and more toward consciousness, even in those areas where it previously allowed itself to be guided by unconscious impulses.

[ 16 ] And now, amid these changes in Western Europe, we see something of the utmost significance taking place, precisely in regions inhabited by people who, until then, had been accustomed—to a greater or lesser extent, but in a very significant way—to finding their unity in that universal idea, in that universal impulse that I have described. In these regions, we see something entirely new emerging: the national element taking the place of the old, more spiritual element of the Catholic Church as the unifying force. We see England and France developing as nation-states—indeed, as the models for the newer nation-states.

[ 17 ] Let us first consider the way in which this new element was introduced specifically into these regions of Western Europe. We even find a sense of unity extending into the 15th century, until that movement emerges which we can in turn characterize by a turning point—the turning point of 1428—when a dividing line is drawn in a certain direction between England and France, as expressed in the events centered around the Maid of Orleans. It was then that the seed of independence between France and England was sown, whereas previously they had been more or less interconnected. This is an immensely significant phenomenon. For we will see emerging from this differentiation—which only occurred then, in the 15th century—many developments that, in turn, play out symptomatically in the later course of human development.

[ 18 ] We see another turning point taking place as, in Italy—where an independent Italian consciousness was then taking shape, yet again a kind of national consciousness—a new development emerges from what the papal power, which in Italy overshadowed all such national and similar groupings, had brought about. And as we let our gaze wander across Europe—I can only hint at all these things—we see how we are approaching a time in which a great conflict is taking place in Central Europe between the central regions and those more or less to the east, between Germanic and Slavic cultures. We see the Habsburg power springing forth from the struggles of these regions, from the advancing Slavic world, and from the intermingling of the Slavic and Germanic worlds. As we survey all this, we see how individual centers emerge from the life shaped by these forces. We further see quite distinctive entities that had not previously distinguished themselves in such a way from the universal impulses—had not distinguished themselves with their own spirit, with their own will: from the 13th to the 15th century, we see urban cultures blossoming throughout the entire civilized Western world of that time.

[ 19 ] And once again, we see that, after national aspirations in France and England had diverged, what emerged in England out of protracted civil wars was what the world would come to know as parliamentarism—the goal of a social structure that arose from mutual understanding among individuals.

[ 20 ] In doing so, we have set before our minds not all, but some of the symptoms of recent historical developments. I need only add that, as the groups arising from this impulse took shape across Europe, we could see, standing in the background and taking shape in the East—still in its embryonic stage—emerging from the storms from which it had already once had to take form, that which would later become the Russian entity. A remarkable entity, viewed from Europe, taking shape in such a way that it always remains a mystery to the senses; the most important impulses living within this entity are not actually perceived—welded together, I might say, from what has been preserved through various migrations: through Byzantium, from a certain metamorphosis of Catholic life; what has emerged from the blood that flowed together from Slavic and Norman origins, and what has been absorbed along the paths that are, of course, well known to you, much of what constitutes the spiritual disposition of the Asian being—that spiritual disposition—I am referring now to the finest aspects of this Asian spiritual disposition—which, over the course of millennia, has moved away from the immediately sensory toward great mystical connections through which one sought to penetrate a supersensory world with which human sensory life is intertwined.

[ 21 ] Now, when one allows such symptoms—and perhaps many others—of recent human development to come before one’s soul and truly considers them in light of the aforementioned question, one notices a very significant characteristic that is revealed in these symptoms and that one learns to recognize when one asks: How does that which is expressed in these symptoms differ internally from that which, in earlier centuries and millennia, played itself out in a similar way in the historical development of humanity—a development that was more deeply immersed in the unconscious? — One must view these things entirely without sympathy or antipathy, in a completely objective manner; only then does one arrive at what is characteristic of the phenomena in this field.

[ 22 ] It is curious to ask oneself: What do all these symptoms—which I have noted here today, for example—have in common with earlier impulses that have entered into the development of world history? — I do not wish to speak at all of the fruitfulness with which, for example, Christianity entered the world in a positive way and created something new for the soul. I do not wish to speak of this aspect at all; I wish only to speak of impulses such as those that were often given, for example, in ancient Greek life, where a new impulse—as if produced from the very depths of human nature—was simply given, which then played itself out in an entirely new configuration of facts; or as it was given, let us say, to the Roman spirit in the Augustan age. None of the impulses that are now emerging are of this kind. We see, for example, the national impulse as the most outstanding one; it is not based on national solidarity—as is often identified today and understood as state solidarity—but is based on the national insofar as it is built upon the natural foundations of human nature. We see it as an impulse that is received by the individual without being produced from within. A person is French or English by nature. And when, in shaping the historical configuration, he refers to his nationality, he is not referring to something he produces in his mind, but rather to something he merely receives into his mind from the outside.

[ 23 ] If one compares what enters into the course of history through the national principle with the earlier impulses, one realizes how infinitely more in line with the productive aspect of human nature are all those impulses that we see successively penetrating humanity during the Greek era and the Roman-Latin era. But what has penetrated there is retained; it is preserved. And to the extent that one embraces something new, one incorporates into the newer development something that one has not produced oneself—something that approaches human beings from outside.

[ 24 ] Having first attempted to orient ourselves to the broader course of modern European history, we shall now try to penetrate its inner workings. There we see a very similar upheaval within the human psyche against that which, as a universal impulse relying on the unconscious, has been brought forth since time immemorial. We see how, in the 15th century—and even earlier with Wycliffe—we see how Luther then, and later Calvin, stormed onto the scene. We see something that, far more than anything that came before—which was conceived in more universal terms—seeks to give people something, to carry it into history: something that is individual, something that springs directly from human nature itself. But even here, strangely enough, we see how everything that is being discussed ties in with what came before. What is new is the call for people to look to their own nature: Decide for yourself on the nature of the Lord’s Supper. Decide for yourself how you want to relate to your priest; do not let this be imposed on you from the outside by a universal impulse.

[ 25 ] But if one considers what is being discussed, it is that which was previously instilled into humanity—that which already existed as the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper, that which has been present for centuries in history or in human life in general. Something new is not produced from the soul in the same way as before and handed over to historical life; rather, the old is produced and preserved—everything that is already there, without human intervention—and it is only the human being who is brought into a new relationship with it.

[ 26 ] It is precisely when one traces this inner course of European development that one sees how it tears apart, changes, and transforms an infinite amount of the old, and how it rushes headlong against the universal impulse that once prevailed. This can be seen very clearly in the way chivalry disintegrated—a phenomenon that was, in its entire inner constitution, its spiritual makeup—one need only study the Crusades—intimately linked to the universal impulse. Here again, we can point to a turning point that serves as a guide for everything else that happens: the Battle of Murten in 1476, toward the end of the 15th century, where such a struggle against chivalry—which was linked to the universal impulse—was waged, as it was in many places, but here in a representative manner.

[ 27 ] And connected to all of this, we find a change in the church government itself. This church government has, in fact, taken on a remarkable form, one that you can find characterizing it throughout history. During this period, driven by the upheaval, it felt compelled to undergo an inner regeneration, an inner renewal; and so, in fact, the upheaval prompted the Church itself to change many things within its own ranks. But everywhere we see how that which the Church has raised up in the development of humanity—what it has spread in the form of a universal impulse—is now to be placed in a new relationship to each individual human being. We see this throughout all of Europe. We see it in the way the Church of England is becoming independent. We see it in Central Europe, where this independence is intertwined with political powers. Everywhere we see how individuality, how the personal, is surging against the universal; in other words, how that which human beings seek to conquer in their consciousness is surging against the earlier, more unconscious or subconscious nature of the human soul and what historically followed from it.

[ 28 ] Of course, opposing forces also arose against such developments—the Counter-Reformation against the Reformation. But when we analyze the struggles this provoked, something of the utmost importance regarding the course of modern history immediately becomes apparent to us. From all that has happened in connection with the symptoms described, we see the Thirty Years’ War emerging. When we study the Thirty Years’ War, we arrive at a remarkable conclusion. It arose from the contradictions that had developed within the religious confessions of the European people. It began purely out of impulses connected with the religious conflicts, and it ended as a purely political phenomenon. In the course of its development, it became something entirely different from what it was at its outset. And when we ask ourselves, once it is over after thirty years: How does its course appear to us in relation to the religious affiliations of the European people? — in 1648, we find ourselves standing on exactly the same ground as we did in 1618. Those thirty years have not actually changed anything significant in terms of the relationship between Protestants and Catholics, and so on. Everything has remained as it is. However, in the course of the war, entirely different powers intervened, and this has resulted in a completely different configuration of the European political entities.

[ 29 ] It is precisely those who study the Thirty Years’ War in this way who become deeply convinced that, in history, one cannot link what follows as an effect to what preceded it as a cause; for nothing that emerged from the Thirty Years’ War was in any way connected, as an effect in the true sense, to what can be identified as a cause in the true sense. If one traces the course of events, one sees how what happened on the surface can be nothing more than a symptom of a deeper process. This is evident in a very special way precisely in the Thirty Years’ War. But what actually happened? It was precisely the Western powers that advanced, and France in particular, through what arose during the Thirty Years’ War—not from its causes, but from its course of events. What emerged from the Thirty Years’ War later led to the great royal splendor of France. We see the royal power of France outshining the rest of Europe in the period that followed.

[ 30 ] And yet, within the very bosom of that which is taking shape—which perpetuates the old national impulse, perpetuates it in the most eminent sense—something is growing that goes far beyond the merely national, something that, in a sense, transcends the national. What emerges is that which later finds its full expression in the French Revolution: the personality. The human personality, left entirely to its own devices, seeks to emancipate itself from the constraints of that community, which is not itself derived from any productive impulse, but has been absorbed by the human constitution of the soul from nature and the human environment. And once again, when we look at what is unfolding symptomatically, we see how Napoleon then emerges—quite inorganically, one might say, without any underlying motivation—as the executor of the French Revolution.

[ 31 ] But at the same time, we see another remarkable, great, and momentous turning point taking place. And this significant turning point in modern history occurred on October 21, 1805, when the Battle of Trafalgar prevented Napoleon from extending his tentacles toward England, where what had previously been in its infancy—the separation between England and the continent—was fully realized.

[ 32 ] And now we need only let the generally known facts pass quickly before our minds. We see how, in England—which has become a nation in its own right—the development of parliamentary life, leading toward liberalism, is now taking place. We see how, in France, the course of events in the 19th century was more tumultuous. But then we see how, in a new form, in a strikingly symptomatic way of what is actually taking place at the very foundations of European development: how Western Europe and Central Europe had to grapple, in the 1850s, with that which was then like a dark enigma in Eastern Europe—with that which emerged as a Russian entity, which stands as a question before European development. We then see how certain ideas gain strength in the 19th century, how they are opposed by other ideas, and how both sets of concepts become driving forces in the course of history. We see how, throughout the 19th century, the events that would erupt in 1848 were brewing everywhere. And we see how, out of all this, the so-called social movement—which later took on such comprehensive scope and today cuts so deeply into human development—emerged. Among the developments taking shape in the 19th century, we see a most remarkable event that the people of Europe were able to observe with truly deep attention. For we see emerging from that splendor, which developed through the nation-building of the French state, a kind of claim to go further and further.

[ 33 ] We should not pass judgment; these things should not be viewed with sympathy or antipathy, but rather completely objectively. But we see how, through the interconnection between what is emerging in the West and what is unfolding further to the East, something is developing that was regarded by those with insight at the time it occurred—regardless of their stance on whether it should have happened or not—as an intractable, at least initially intractable, European problem. One can even disregard entirely whether Alsace belonged to France before or to Germany afterward—what has emerged from European life is what is known today as the Alsatian question.

[ 34 ] Anyone who follows history—particularly the statements of discerning people of that time—knows that even then these people foresaw conflicts that were created by this, and which are virtually insoluble from one side or the other, because they are connected to all the difficult questions of Eastern Europe that were raised by the fact that Western Europe—as the Crimean War symptomatically demonstrated—was forced into conflict with Eastern Europe, which stood like a mystery behind all phenomena. And one should actually regard and feel this as something extraordinarily significant, especially in these days, that there is something of an insoluble nature in the way Central Europe must position itself vis-à-vis Western Europe regarding an issue that, given certain historical preconditions, can be demanded to be resolved in one way or another—an issue that arose from what developed in France as a national impulse, but which, if one seeks to resolve it nationally, cannot be resolved.

[ 35 ] I could cite many more examples of phenomena in modern history, but I wish to mention only that which has profoundly influenced the entire development of modern humanity; I wish to mention—even though the connections are not always clearly apparent—the emergence of the modern scientific way of thinking, the significance of which I have already characterized from other perspectives in my previous lectures. The scientific way of thinking is on the rise. What does it do? It places the human being in relation to himself. It is precisely this way of thinking that singles out the human being as a personality from the community. In many respects, it is the driving force behind everything else I have mentioned. There is something in this scientific way of thinking that strangely reveals the significance it holds in modern history.

[ 36 ] Two kinds of problems arise. I would like to illustrate one of them to you with a fact. The fact is that in 1830, Goethe was once found by a friend in a state of great agitation, and when asked what was wrong, he said: “The news coming from France is overwhelming; the world is ablaze; something new is taking shape.” — Soret, to whom Goethe had said this, naturally believed that Goethe was speaking of the Revolution of the Thirties, which had just broken out at that time. “No, that is not what I mean,” said Goethe; “I am speaking of that revolution which is taking place between the two naturalists Cuvier and Geoffroy de Saint-Hilaire!” — Cuvier held the view that all beings in nature stand side by side, each to be understood in and of itself; Saint-Hilaire sought a common type in organic forms, bringing all organic life into a flow, so that it can only be grasped within this flow if one directs this gaze toward nature with an immediately productive spirit and experiences the spirit as mobile as nature itself. Goethe sensed something of the necessity, for the times to come, of keeping the spirit alive even in relation to nature. In what Goethe sensed in Geoffroy de Saint-Hilaire lay that which, when brought to fruition from its seeds, is the supersensible concepts of natural phenomena that I characterized here the day before yesterday.

[ 37 ] At first, however, the world was overshadowed by everything that arises from the other view of nature—necessarily overshadowed by that view of nature which removes human beings from their immediate, living connection with natural phenomena. This view of nature—which is thus not driven by the impulse Goethe referred to—leads to the perception of that which does not actually live in nature, but rather of what is dying, of what dissolves nature, because it is connected to that which is mortal within human beings themselves, as I characterized it the day before yesterday.

[ 38 ] The view of nature from which Goethe turned away is the one that can only grasp gradual decay in the course of nature, and then seeks to rise, from the symptoms of decay, to that which cannot be revealed in its own way—that which can only be revealed through supersensory perception: the symptoms of ascent, of growth, of birth, of flourishing. But—as paradoxical as it may sound—this view of nature, which is actually directed toward the dead within living nature, cast its shadow deeply over the entire modern social order. It essentially created a new universal impulse that swept over modern humanity, but one against which human beings, in their individuality, must continually rebel, because this impulse sets them apart from nature, and they must constantly seek to reconnect with it. Their knowledge sets them apart. They must seek their connection once more from something other than what they strive for through this knowledge. A dualism, a dichotomy in the relationship between human beings and their environment, is thereby introduced into life. This natural science flows into modern technological life, which underpins all of modern culture and exerts an immensely significant influence.

[ 39 ] We have seen in the impulses we considered earlier—for example, the national ones—that traditional elements are preserved and nothing new and productive is introduced into life; in the enigma of Eastern Europe, we see how a people, strangely inspired to intellectual productivity, constrains itself so as not to be allowed to be productive, despite being predisposed to productivity to the highest degree—truly constricting itself within the very outermost bonds of the old Byzantine ecclesiastical community—we see how the old is brought forth and preserved; and we see how, in what the view of nature pours out upon modern humanity, a universal is now created—a universal that, in turn, does not stem from what human beings produce out of themselves, but precisely from that which, in isolation from themselves, they take into their understanding as the decay of natural phenomena, and which they can therefore allow to flow into their culture only as something they carry out into technology by killing off the natural.

[ 40 ] Precisely because human beings are initially not productive in the old sense, they attain the full consciousness that has emerged in more recent times, since the 15th century, whereas in earlier times they maintained their connection with nature and with the world in general not through full consciousness but through the subconscious. In addition to the preservation of the old, there is a form of education for modern humanity that, while provided by something new, proceeds in the spirit of the old. That which is incorporated into technology arises only seemingly from productive ideas. But these productive ideas do not spring forth as an independent plant in the human soul—as the supersensible, when it is to be sought, must spring forth as an independent plant in the human soul—but rather they arise from the calm contemplation of objective natural phenomena.

[ 41 ] We see how an event that has significantly influenced recent developments is connected precisely to this modern technology, for it is only now—as this modern technology becomes increasingly prevalent in recent history—that colonization is also gaining significance; for the very nature of colonial life and colonization is intimately connected with what flows into technology through the natural sciences.

[ 42 ] And now let us take a summary look at what is more or less revealed to us in all these symptoms. When we survey them, we see that what has emerged in them since the 15th century as something new consists entirely of things that do not spring from human productive nature. When we consider them, we are compelled to broaden our perspective to encompass the course of humanity’s historical development, and one is compelled to acknowledge—and supersensible knowledge leads one to acknowledge—that in this human life there is not merely an upward movement, not merely, in the abstract sense, what is usually called progress, but that the ascending, sprouting, and flourishing life is linked to a descending life. Life is linked to that which leads ever onward into death.

[ 43 ] When we consider the life of an individual human being, birth, growth, and development appear to stand apart from death and decay. Here, too, it is only an illusion; but when we consider external life, the course of recent history shows us that death, descending development, and ascending development stand side by side and intertwine. And we see that the downward development—the development that embodies historical death—has great significance even for the beginning of this more recent historical epoch, which began in the 15th century, continuing for several centuries right up to our own time. The life of decay, the life of death, has greater significance than the upward, sprouting, and budding life. We see how human beings, in their consciousness—as they develop into modern human beings—are connected to that which is transitory within them, and how they can sense that precisely what drives them toward death is also what propels them forward in knowledge. While the sprouting, budding life lulls him as if into dreams, we can see that, intervening directly in history in more recent times, the consciousness soul has developed out of the previously more unconscious soul—the soul that humanity developed from the 8th century B.C. through the 15th century A.D. We see how, for humanity’s initial education toward this consciousness soul, it is necessary that the symptoms of decay—the symptoms of a life in decline—be actively incorporated into human culture. One cannot understand modern historical life in its true relationship to humanity unless one can grasp the idea—despite all admiration, despite all the willing recognition one must have for the great, mighty achievements of modern technology and modern national impulses—that in all of this there must be a descending life leading toward the death of historical becoming, and that an ascending, a sprouting, a budding life must be born into this descending life.

[ 44 ] This is what has led discerning people in modern times to what might be called cultural pessimism. A man like Schopenhauer turned his gaze toward the course of modern history in particular. To him, this historical turmoil seemed rather futile, despite all the achievements of modern times. And Schopenhauer values only what can be achieved by individual human beings. Even if the pessimists themselves are merely symptoms of modern historical development, they are people who intuitively perceive that precisely what is greatest and most significant—what we are accustomed to viewing as the hallmark of modern development—is the impulse of death that permeates historical development.

[ 45 ] What follows from this? What follows is something that could be called the tragic turn of recent historical life. Of course, we must promote those new impulses that we observe—some of which are preserved, and others that have emerged from scientific perspectives. All of this is such that we must say to ourselves: We must promote it, we must devote ourselves to it; it is a necessity of modern times; it must absolutely be placed within the development of world history, but in every one of its manifestations, what is created in this field must necessarily also lead, in turn, to its own downfall. It is precisely through these great achievements in modern development that problems must arise—problems that lead into dead ends, that lead to conclusions that cannot be resolved by their own nature, that confront humanity with something that must seem to it like death. That is the tragedy: what must be promoted, what must be regarded as an achievement, is precisely that which we know—by creating it, we create something that must simultaneously fall into decay. Indeed, we already set the decay in motion by creating it. _

[ 46 ] Anyone who believes that the facts arising from the impulses mentioned above and entering into recent historical development can stand on their own is like a person who believes that a woman can give birth without conceiving, without the other principle uniting with the one principle. What arises from the impulses mentioned presents itself as something one-sided, which requires fertilization from another source if it is to continue to exist. For in and of itself, it possesses only the power to perish. Take everything that has emerged in modern humanity through the purely natural foundation of the national, through modern technology, through industry, and through social interaction—be it commercial or of another kind—take all of that: considered in and of itself, according to its own impulse, it is barren and leads, I might say, in its own rhythms, ever toward its own death. And we must recognize that we must view it in this way, that we must say to ourselves: For the sake of something else, this dying entity must be placed within the modern world as an achievement.

[ 47 ] What is this “other”? Well, we have seen that when we examine the course of recent history in its sequence through certain symptoms that we regard as such, the very peculiarity I have alluded to is revealed to us. On the one hand, since the 15th century, we have seen the soul of consciousness blossom precisely through the unproductive. On the other hand, we see how this soul of consciousness grows precisely because the stimulus for the productive is first withdrawn from its surroundings, so that it is shaped by that which continually leads to the death of culture. Human beings are thereby empowered to stand on their own, in that the external world does not stimulate them toward anything that lives productively, but rather toward that which, in their understanding, continually bears the seed of death; thus the human being is educated in his or her individual and conscious development of nature in such a way that the external world does not educate him or her toward life, does not educate him or her toward that which is meant to elevate him or her, but continually deters him or her from that which is meant to elevate him or her and thereby places him or her precisely upon his or her own feet.

[ 48 ] But now, when we look at this sequence of events purely through supersensible knowledge, we see that this inner aspect of the human being—the shift toward the conscious soul since the 15th century—corresponds to an objective external reality that simply could not come to the fore in the early centuries, but which reveals itself to us immediately when we now truly and impartially observe the human mind in the present with its newly regained inclination toward a supersensory life. Of course, for many it is still unconscious, but this inclination toward a supersensory life is present in a great many people today. And anyone who engages with spiritual science of an anthroposophical orientation knows that what developed as the principle of “first-coming” in the outer material culture of modern times was of only transitory duration; that we are standing at a great turning point in history, which will bring from without — but now not inspired by nature, rather inspired in the way I have described in my reflections on anthroposophically oriented spiritual science — which will bring to humanity a new revelation of the supersensible.

[ 49 ] We see it approaching from all sides, this new revelation of the supersensible. It will now be attained not as in earlier times, when human beings were unconsciously connected to nature through their instincts and found within nature itself that which also applied to the soul—and which they could then incorporate into social and historical life. Beyond all that this view of nature and the ancient impulses of more recent historical development can provide, a productive, supernatural life will develop. Life will reveal itself from within the spiritual world. And when one looks specifically at what has unfolded in the present as such a terrible catastrophe, what is it, viewed in the true light of truth, other than something into which all that is dying is converging?

[ 50 ] Within this catastrophic existence, many things will die. That which, as I have characterized it, contains within itself the principle of dying will die more quickly. There is no cause for pessimism—not even for suffering, not even for pain, not even for all that may flow to us from witnessing and participating in this catastrophe—there is no cause for cultural pessimism when one views life in the light of anthroposophically oriented spiritual science. For it is evident at a certain point in recent historical development across the entire earth that what is otherwise dispersed as death throughout material life is now converging—this is what gives our recent life its tragic character, and at the same time shows us that everything that comes into the world as I characterized it earlier, and that this, however, must be fertilized by what is received from the supersensible.

[ 51 ] And whoever, with an open mind, looks upon that which complements the development of the conscious soul—the new revelations from the supersensible—will, even while bowed down by the pain of what is now happening, lift up their head and say to themselves: It is at the same time the first dawn of that which must trigger the impulse in humanity toward the supersensible. All the suffering, all the pain over this collapse would be lost; all the feelings that look upon this collapse with justified sorrow would be in vain, if these feelings could not rise to the realization that, just as from everything in nature that is destined to die, so too from this dying something new springs forth. But that which is to develop can only develop if the other—the fertilizing force, the fertilizing force that reveals itself from the supersensible world—is willingly received by humanity.

[ 52 ] The consciousness soul has evolved. Nature can no longer unconsciously provide us with what we bring into the world of social and historical development. Modern humanity must also consciously—that is, willingly—receive what emerges as a new supersensible revelation of the soul of consciousness when this soul of consciousness so wills. Precisely when we view the tragedy of modern life without prejudice, the redemptive impulse reveals itself on the other side. It reveals itself in that we are compelled to acknowledge the revelation of a new supersensible realm that must now also exist for the soul of consciousness.

[ 53 ] And so we look beyond the symptoms to see what becomes of the human being, and to see that which is to be revealed to the human being from the universe. While the Greco-Roman period—which began in the 8th century B.C. and ended in the 15th century—still showed the spiritual life bound to external physical life, thereby giving rise to the great Greek and Roman achievements and bequeathing them to the Middle Ages, a powerful leap in the 15th century marked a shift in development toward the development of the powers of consciousness—what might be called the “conscious soul.” And we are in the midst of this development. We see how only by connecting human beings to what lies behind the symptoms can a true historical science emerge. But one must

[ 54 ] To have the courage to acknowledge that there is not only life around us, but also death, and that death is necessary so that new life may continually be born. It was also necessary for death to predominate for a certain period of time so that human beings might develop the powers of the conscious soul all the more. And when nothing more is given to him from the outside, he is compelled to set out on the path of seeking the spirit, the supersensible, within himself.

[ 55 ] Now, however, one might raise an objection. One might say: Yes, but where are these people, and how many are there? — There are not many who, through the development of their own soul powers, can point the way to the supersensible world. It must be admitted that there are certainly still only a few today. Their numbers will continue to grow; but what matters is not how many there are who find their way into that supersensible realm—which must enrich the sensible world—but rather that one does not need to walk the path of supersensible knowledge oneself, but rather, no matter how or in what light one regards the one who brings forth the results of the supersensible—once they have been articulated, once they have been cast into human spiritual culture, they can also be understood by the very ordinary intellect given to human beings in the age of the soul of consciousness. People can already comprehend everything that is drawn from the “supersensible” to the greatest extent today, provided they do not throw obstacles in their own path through prejudices that they are then unable to overcome.

[ 56 ] But there is one more thing to consider. Just consider that such a view of history, as I have outlined it, compels one—in a sense, with full awareness—to acknowledge what one must do, what is a necessity of the times and will become an ever-greater necessity: that this is, at the same time, a process of continual dying away. It takes a certain courage to acknowledge that one must create so that the creative process itself may perish and serve as the fertile ground for the fatherly principle of the spiritual, the supersensible. Such courage is, in fact, necessary for all supersensible knowledge. And fear of supersensible knowledge is what deters many people from pursuing it. In at least one area, modern times directly confront us with the necessity of developing this courage if we are to play any role at all in the development of humanity: in the field of history. Those who know anything about supersensible knowledge always speak of crossing the threshold, of a guardian of the threshold. People speak of crossing the threshold because, when one opens oneself to the supersensible world, one must break with much of what appears to be the absolutely solid ground of knowledge before one has crossed the threshold. In a sense, human beings unconsciously feel it is a blessing that they do not need to cross the threshold. But what once needed to be done in relation to historical development is becoming more and more of a necessity. And this, in turn, is part of the inner course of historical development since the fifteenth century: it is becoming more and more of a necessity to say to oneself: You are weaving and living along with the creation of processes of death, of decay. You must devote yourself to these processes of decay, and through this your inner strength is stimulated; it is precisely through this that you are brought closer to the supersensible. You must abandon what you previously regarded as a spiritual foundation, cross the threshold into the supersensible world, lose your footing, so to speak, but in return find within yourself the firm center of gravity that allows you to maintain your balance even in the face of the sensually boundless.

[ 57 ] Human beings must necessarily find a new focal point for their entire spiritual life. And historical necessity suggests that they should seek this focal point more and more as they look toward the future. Recognizing this fact does not change the situation. We are, so to speak—and this is precisely how it should be understood, as I have meant it—on the verge of death. The fact that one acknowledges: “It is a dying”—this does not change anything. But it is precisely this that must compel one to seek to nourish the living force that stands in opposition to it. For this is how it is: Above the search for supersensible knowledge, as long as humanity has striven, has always stood the great, powerful call: “Know thyself.” And even today, this is the call to humanity in its quest. If a person today attempts to recognize this, they can do so only by ascending to worlds capable of leading them beyond their finite existence. Above all, driven by the necessities of human development, they must admit to themselves, with regard to the historical life of modern times: in the sense of modern history, the stimulus to know oneself more and more deeply has been implanted in the conscious soul. By knowing themselves, they are compelled to transcend themselves. By transcending himself, by grasping the supersensible within the sensible, he also arrives at that which acts in history as the supersensible and of which external facts are merely symptoms. We will only truly have a history—one that is fruitful for life—when we seek the supersensible behind the symptoms, just as we do behind natural phenomena.

[ 58 ] Our historical analysis has shown that recent developments impose trials on human beings: the trial of being compelled, in their belief that life is only an ascent, to also consider the descent of life—evolution as well as involution. As human beings gain supersensory insight, they will prepare themselves for these trials. For as he gains supersensible insight into history—and this insight itself, by requiring him to cross the threshold and seek a new center of gravity within his inner soul life—this new understanding will be such a powerful trial for his soul that what emerges from this trial will give him the strength to endure those other trials that life will increasingly impose upon him as it moves further and further into the future, beyond the realm of history. But it may be said: A person becomes strong, vigorous, and truly capable of living only through trials. It is not a fear of knowledge that should deter him from entering into these trials, but rather a courage born of knowledge that should drive him to take on these trials. He will develop these trials of knowledge into forces that will lead him to become a human being who is creative, who participates in the process of becoming, and who is fruitfully engaged in history.

Question and Answer

[ 59 ] I was asked whether I might say a few words in this Q&A about a single phenomenon in recent historical development that is, after all, particularly close to human life: the development of language. Of course, this would require an entire lecture if I were to say anything exhaustive on the subject. But I would like to respond to this suggestion for the simple reason that I truly wish to draw your attention to the fact that the anthroposophically oriented spiritual science referred to here is certainly not something that owes its existence to a mere whim, as if it had sprung up out of nowhere, or as if it consisted of a collection of isolated insights. No, if you familiarize yourself with the literature, you will see that this anthroposophically oriented spiritual science draws what it has to say from the entire breadth of observation, from the entire breadth of world phenomena.

[ 60 ] Of course, whenever one has to summarize such broad topics in a single hour—and I always regret that it ends up taking longer anyway! — one has to summarize broad areas, one is bound to give the impression of wandering through abstract realms; yet the aim is not to convince anyone, but merely to inspire them to go further, and then they will see that this particular human science, more than any other scholarly endeavor, is founded on careful, conscientious, methodical inquiry and serious research.

[ 61 ] It is interesting to observe, in a specific phenomenon such as the development of human language, precisely what I have described in general terms today. But even here, I want to focus on just one aspect of this linguistic development. When we speak as human beings today, we usually do not even think about how speaking actually forces us, at every moment, to become imprecise. I just want to say this: to become imprecise. Fritz Mauthner wrote a three-volume work and, in addition, a “Dictionary of Philosophy” to express how everything produced in worldview and science is based on language, and how language is imprecise. So that one can never actually have true science.

[ 62 ] Well, this is, of course, a foolish claim when it comes to the science of the spirit, even if it appears in three volumes. But it is nevertheless significant to address the underlying partial phenomenon. If one traces the development of human language back in time, one finds—contrary to external anthropological linguistic research, which works with inadequate means—that in earlier times, the further back one goes, the more and more deeply a person was inwardly and spiritually, and also instinctively and unconsciously, intertwined with what was expressed in their language. Human beings are also gradually detaching themselves from what their own nature contains, just as they detach themselves from external nature.

[ 63 ] It also breaks away from the immediate connection to language. And language becomes something external. A strong dualism arises between the thought experienced inwardly—which some people no longer even have because it remains within the sphere of language—and what is actually spoken. And if one does not succumb to delusion at this stage of human development—the Age of the Conscious Soul—it is precisely necessary to look directly at how language has already become detached from the human being. In fact, it is only proper names—those referring to a single being—that truly and directly apply to that being. As soon as one uses general terms—whether they be adjectives, nouns, or whatever—they express only an imprecise representation of what they are meant to convey. They are abstract; they are akin to generalities. And only then will we truly understand language today in its relationship to human life—if we conceive of it, in fact, as a gesture; if we are aware that just as I point directly and vividly when I point my finger at something, so too do I point—through the movements of my larynx and through sound—in a gestural manner toward that to which the sounds of language refer. Learning to understand language as a gesture—that is what is at stake. Thus, ancient times had a vague—I would say subconscious—instinctive inkling of how inner spiritual life is connected, in a gestural way, to sound; they did not confuse inner spiritual experience with what finds expression in language.

[ 64 ] We ourselves have sought to develop efforts that are natural in one area of the humanities: to bring the gestural nature of language back into focus through what we call eurythmy, in which an attempt has been made to set the whole human being in motion, and through the movements of the limbs, through movements of the human form in space, through group movements, and through the relationships between people, to express in a gestural manner that which is otherwise also expressed in gesture—though not recognized as such—and is conveyed through the human larynx and its neighboring organs. We call this art of movement, which must find its way into humanity as something new, “eurythmy.” And here in Zurich, we had intended to follow up this lecture with a eurythmic performance. It must be postponed, however, because although we received permission to hold these lectures during these difficult times, we did not receive permission to present this eurythmic performance. It was intended to show, so to speak, how the whole human being becomes the larynx. By becoming aware of what language is, we arrive at something that will become particularly important—fundamentally important—for life in the present and the future.

[ 65 ] Nothing is more common in human life today than for someone to say something—for example, me here in the field of spiritual science. Someone else comes along and says, “I read that there—” and points to something that, at least in detail, corresponds completely with what was said. I could show you striking examples of this kind. I want to highlight just one case in particular, in which this matter presented itself to me in a particularly striking way.

[ 66 ] Because I am now truly trying to apply to life all the things that the science of the spirit requires me to process—and thereby to penetrate the very impulses of life—I have long been engaged with what I would like to call the entire way of thinking, the entire mindset of Woodrow Wilson. It has been interesting for me to study, in particular, Woodrow Wilson’s essays on historical method, on the study of history, and on American historical life. He plays such a major role in contemporary life that one must get to know him—so says anyone who does not want to miss out on what is happening in the present, but rather wishes to observe it with alert senses. I have come to admire the way in which Woodrow Wilson so magnificently, truly American in its accuracy, Woodrow Wilson portrays the development of the American people themselves—this progression from the American East to the American West, the emergence of authentic American life in a wholly distinctive manner, only as it spreads from East to West, while everything else that preceded it is succinctly portrayed by Woodrow Wilson as an appendage to European life. This subjugation of nature, this overcoming of nature, this subjugation of the indigenous peoples of the American West, this peculiar way of making history—which bears some resemblance to other events in human history but is, at the same time, quite distinct—is magnificently expressed. And that is why it is also interesting to see how Woodrow Wilson structures his approach to history.

[ 67 ] I looked into the passages where he himself describes his historical method. There I discovered something very peculiar: from this man, who was thoroughly American in character, flowed sentences that seemed to me to coincide almost word for word with those of a completely different man, one who had truly developed from a very different outlook on life and thought. One could take sentences from Woodrow Wilson’s essay on the methodology of history—which bore such good fruit for him—and transpose them verbatim into essays by Herman Grimm, who is now fully immersed in the modern Goethean development and who, emerging from this Goethean development, stands as a truly through-and-through Central European-German spirit. One could say: One need only extract sentences from Herman Grimm’s essays, transpose them, and incorporate sentences from Woodrow Wilson into Herman Grimm’s essays; in terms of wording, one would find no major changes at all. — But from such an experience one learns what I now wish to express in trivial words—though I intend to convey something very significant through them—one learns: When two people say the same thing, it is not the same, even if the wording coincides.

[ 68 ] The lesson to be learned from this is that one must immerse oneself not merely in the wording provided by language, but in the whole person. Then one will discover what specifically distinguishes Herman Grimm from Woodrow Wilson; then one will see how, in Grimm’s case, every single sentence is crafted with full conscious soul, how the progression in Herman Grimm’s insightful essay—in which he discusses historical method and historical perspective—is truly such that one sees him moving from one sentence to the next in an inner struggle of the soul, so that nothing remains unconscious, but everything is forced into consciousness. One is always dealing with this inner progression of the soul.

[ 69 ] If one looks at how things appear in Woodrow Wilson’s case, one sees how these sentences well up from strange, subconscious depths of the soul, as if from the person himself—in contrast to an inner influence. I mean no harm by this, but I would simply like—if I may express myself paradoxically—to illustrate that with Herman Grimm I always feel: in the realm of fully conscious soul life, all spiritual life unfolds from sentence to sentence; with Woodrow Wilson, I sense that he is as if possessed by something that lies within him and that radiates his own truths from within. — As I said, I mean nothing sympathetic or unsympathetic by this, but only something I wish to characterize. It is inspired in him from the very depths of his soul. There we will come to truly recognize—even if the wording is the same—that when two people say the same thing, it is not the same. We recognize what lies at the root only when we do not cling to the wording, but rather when we know how to focus on what follows from the entire manifestation of the personality.

[ 70 ] You see, modern humanity will have to learn to overcome what is so commonplace today: when something is presented to us, we judge it solely on the basis of its content. We will have to learn that the content is not the essential thing at all. When I speak of spiritual science, I do not place the emphasis on the formulation of sentences or on the content; rather, the essential point is that what I say is infused with that which is truly projected from the supersensible world. To place greater value on the “how” than on the “what”—to sense, to feel that these things are spoken from the supersensible world—that is what matters.

[ 71 ] This is how one must learn to approach ordinary life even in the present day. No matter how beautiful the things any newspaper or journal might say—and one can say terribly beautiful things today, for these “beautiful ideals” and “beautiful things” are, after all, right there on the street— it is not the wording that matters, but rather the powers of the soul from which they spring—so that through the sentences themselves and through the words, we look beyond to the symptoms, to the human being. We must penetrate language and the wording as if through a veil, and in this way draw closer to the human being once more. This is precisely what recent developments in language teach us—developments that have severed the connection between human beings and language in their innermost being, in their conscious soul. This instills in us the necessity not merely to focus on the wording, but to look through the wording and into the human soul, exploring it from all angles and in every possible way.

[ 72 ] However, something must be overcome if we are to make progress in this direction, for people today are still accustomed to abstractions, to this—I would say bourgeois, philistine—clinging to immediate content. When someone articulates an ideal and formulates it however beautifully—we must realize that this is as commonplace as blackberries today, for the ideals are already set in stone. One can present all manner of ideals for people and nations, but they are already set in stone. What matters is where they come from—from what part of the inner soul, from what region of the soul they truly spring. Life will be immensely enriched if we are able to view life in this way.

[ 73 ] Perhaps I may also mention something personal. You see, I am often given all sorts of poetic works. Everyone writes poetry these days! Among these poetic works, one finds some that are very polished in form, that express this or that wonderfully, and others that seem clumsy, that struggle with language, that are even stilted and primitive. Those who take a still-old-fashioned stance will, of course, take pleasure in beauty, particularly in the formal perfection of language. They will not—at least not yet—feel that Emanuel Geibel was right when he said of himself: “His verses will find an audience as long as there are young girls.” They are beautiful, they are polished, and they will find an audience, even among those people who, for example, consider Wildenbruch or similar figures to be poets—and there are many of them.

[ 74 ] But today there is a different perspective in this area, and this is also the case with other arts, though here I am speaking specifically about language. There are poets today whose verses can trip you up; one may have difficulty because they speak in clumsy language, but there is a new impulse within them; one must feel it! One must be able to look through the veil of language, past the polished verses, into the superficiality of the soul. For polished verses—beautiful, polished verses that are far] more beautiful than Goethe’s verses—are as common as blackberries today; for language itself is already composing poetry. But new spiritual life—life that springs directly from the source of all life—must first be sought. This sometimes expresses itself precisely in the fact that it must wage a struggle with language, that it is, so to speak, still in the stage of stuttering. But such “stammering” can be more dear to one than that which is perfect in itself and points only to a superficial soul. Once, on an occasion when we ourselves needed such verses—because we had to produce a translation from another language—I was given some very beautiful verses. I became furious about it and wrote some bad ones myself. I am aware that they are much worse as verses; but I knew that, in that case, I was compelled to express—in language that might seem a bit clunky—what needed to be expressed when drawing from the appropriate wellspring of life. I by no means overestimate what I have undertaken to accomplish; but neither do I overestimate the polished verses that were handed to me.

[ 75 ] Humanity’s search through language in the age of the consciousness soul is something that, in turn, emerges as a way of life from a genuine contemplation of linguistic life. That is why I have tried unreservedly today—even if not in every sentence—not to speak as if I were imparting spiritual science and always seeking to prove the supersensible, but rather I have tried to weave this into the very manner of historical observation. And I believe that is also what is important: that one does not simply keep calling someone a true spiritual researcher time and again merely because they use the words “ Spirit, Spirit, and spiritual world—and then believes he can suggest this to people—but rather one who, through his way of viewing the world—even the most external world—and through the manner in which he presents things, shows that the inner guide, who leads from thought to thought, from insight to insight, from impulse to impulse, is the Spirit. If this guide is the Spirit, then there’s no need to keep harping on about it!

[ 76 ] This is something that shows you how language can be used to substantiate what I could explain in a comprehensive lecture.