The Rudolf Steiner Archive

9. Interpretations of Fairy Tales

[ 1 ] What I intend to present here today is, first and foremost, a kind of principle for interpreting fairy tales and legends. In a broader sense, this principle can then be extended to the world of myths, and we will also need to briefly touch on how to apply this extension. Of course, in just one hour, it is not possible for me to tell you in detail how one should approach today’s children when telling them fairy tales—or, when the children are older, when explaining them. My main concern today will be to illustrate to you what should live in the soul of those who wish to tell and explain fairy tales, and what they should know.

[ 2 ] The first thing we must recognize from the outset when we tell fairy tales, legends, or myths—and even when we seek to explain them—is that we absolutely must know more than we are able to say, and indeed considerably more. And secondly, we must have the will to draw upon anthroposophical wisdom for the means of explanation. This does not mean simply inserting whatever comes to mind into the fairy tales; rather, we must have the will to recognize anthroposophical wisdom as such and then, based on everything we have learned from the anthroposophical worldview, attempt to apply it to the fairy tales. It is not a given that this will work equally well for everyone. But even if one misses the mark entirely at first, one will eventually discover the correct interpretation on one’s own. Where one builds on a solid foundation, it will turn out correctly; but where one does not build on a solid foundation, it turns out that all sorts of things are read into it. So this discussion is intended for both those who tell the tales and those who are to be taught. Examples that are as vivid as possible will help us visualize what is at stake here. The first fairy tale we will examine might be told as follows:

[ 3 ] Something once happened—yes, but where was it, exactly? Well, one might just as well ask: Where wasn’t it? —Once upon a time, there was a tailor’s apprentice. He had only one groschen left in his pocket, but that single groschen drove him out into the world. He was starving, and that penny was only enough to buy him a bowl of milk soup. As the milk soup sat before him, a whole swarm of flies flew into it, and by the time he had finished eating, the entire plate was covered with flies. So he slapped the plate a few times with his hand and then counted how many he had killed—a hundred. Then he took a writing tablet from the innkeeper and wrote on it: “He killed a hundred at once!”—And with this tablet slung around his neck, he continued on his way. Then he passed by a royal castle. The king was looking down at that very moment and saw a man walking by who had written something on the back of a tablet. He sent his servant down to see what was written on it. The servant went, and there it read: “He has slain a hundred at once!”—and he told the king. “Wait!” the king thought to himself—“this is someone I can use”—and he sent word down to have him brought to him. “I can use you!” the king said to him. “Will you enter my service?” “Yes,” he said, “I’d be quite happy to enter your service if you give me a proper wage, which I’ll tell you later.” “Yes,” said the king, “I’ll reward you very well if you keep your promise. So you shall eat and drink to your heart’s content for as long as you like.” “But then you must also perform a task for me that matches your strength. Every year, a whole pack of bears comes into my kingdom, and they cause terrible damage. They are so strong that no human can kill them. You will certainly be able to do it if you keep the promise you made at the table.” “Then the journeyman said, ‘Certainly, I will do that; but until the bears arrive, I must ask for as much to eat and drink as I want.”—For the tailor’s apprentice thought to himself: If I can’t slay the bears then, and if they kill me, at least I will have eaten and drunk well for a while. And so it went on for a while. When the time came for the bears to appear again, he prepared the following: He went into the kitchen and set up a table there. He left the gate wide open; on the table he placed all sorts of things the bears would like to eat and drink—honey and so on. Then he hid. The bears came over, ate and drank until they could eat and drink no more and lay there. Then he cut off the head of each bear and had thus slain them. When the king saw this, he asked him, “Well, how did you do that?” And the journeyman said, “I simply let the bears jump over the blade and then chopped off each one’s head!”—The king was quite convinced and said, “If you’ve done that, then you can do me an even greater service.” Every year, large, strong giants come to our country. No one can kill or drive them away; perhaps you can do it?” The tailor said, “Yes, I’ll do it if you’ll give me your daughter’s hand in marriage afterward.” The king was very keen to have the giants driven away, so he promised it, and the tailor enjoyed himself once again.

[ 4 ] When the time came for the giants to reappear, he took along everything the giants liked to eat and drink, and set off to meet them. But on the way, in addition to everything else, he also took a small piece of cheese and a lark, and arrived at the giants’ lair with all his belongings, the piece of cheese, and the lark. The giants said, “We’re back to wrestle with the strongest; no one has ever defeated us!” “Well, then I’ll wrestle with you!” said the journeyman. “That’ll end badly for you!” said one of the giants. “Go ahead and show your strength and what you can do!” said the tailor. Then the giant picked up a stone and crushed it between his fingers. Then he took a bow and an arrow and shot the arrow into the air, so that it didn’t come back down until a long time later. “Now you’ve seen my strength! If you want to wrestle with me, you’ll have to come up with something else.” The tailor took a small stone and secretly coated it with some cheese, and when he pressed it with his fingers, the cheese squirted out. Then he said to the giant: “I can squeeze water out of a stone, and you can’t!” — This made a strong impression on the giant, that the tailor could do something else that he couldn’t. Then the tailor also took a bow and arrow, but as he shot, he let the lark fly up unnoticed; it never came back. Then he said to the giant, “Your arrow has come back down, but I shot mine so high that it won’t come down at all!” The giants were surprised to find someone even stronger than themselves, and they said to him, “Won’t you become our comrade?” He agreed. He was small, to be sure, but he was still a welcome addition. So they accepted him into their fellowship, and he stayed with them for a while. But it was unbearable to them that there was someone even stronger than themselves, and once, as he lay awake in bed, he heard them decide to kill him.

[ 5 ] So he made his preparations. He prepared a great feast from the provisions he had brought with him. The giants ate and drank until they could eat and drink no more and until they were out of their minds. But they had made up their minds to kill him. He, however, took a pig’s bladder, filled it with blood, tied it to his head, and went to bed with it. The giant who had been chosen to kill him came and stabbed it—and when the blood flowed out, the giants were very satisfied, for now they were rid of him. And they lay down and fell asleep. Then the tailor got out of bed and killed the sleeping giants one by one. Then he went to the king and told him how he had slain one giant after another.

[ 6 ] The king kept his word and gave him his daughter as a wife, and the tailor married the king’s daughter. The king was greatly amazed at his son-in-law’s strength. But neither the king nor his daughter knew who this stranger really was—whether a tailor or a prince who had run away? They didn’t know it back then. If they haven’t found out since, then they still don’t know it today. This is one of the fairy tales we’d like to examine in principle. But before we delve into it, let’s set another one alongside it. For if you read fairy tales—wherever you like, from whichever people you like, and from whatever era you like—fairy tales that are true fairy tales—you will always find that a certain core of ideas pulsates through all of them. I’d like to point out here that we’ve already encountered giants who are overcome through cunning. And now take a leap through the millennia and think of Odysseus and the giant Polyphemus in the Odyssey. But let us set another fairy tale alongside this first one.

[ 7 ] It once happened—where was it, again? Yes, where hadn’t it actually happened? There was a king who was so beloved by his people that he constantly heard them say he should find a wife who was just as good and noble as he was. It was difficult for him to find someone he could believe would be as suitable as he wished for his people. But he had an old friend, a poor forester who lived a simple and contented life in the forest, yet was very wise. He could easily have become rich, for the king would gladly have given him everything. But the forester wanted to remain poor and keep his wisdom. So the king went to his friend, the forester, and asked him for advice. The forester gave him a sprig of rosemary and said, “Keep this, and the girl before whom it bends—think here of the divining rod motif—is the girl you should marry!” So the very next day, the king summoned a large number of girls. He had a large quantity of pearls spread out before the girls and had each girl’s name written on the table with pearls. Then he announced that the girl toward whom the sprig bowed would become his wife; the others would receive only the pearls. Then he walked around with the sprig of rosemary—but it did not move; it did not bow toward any of them. The girls received their pearls and were sent away. On the second day, the same thing was done, but the same thing happened again, and on the third day it was no different. That night, as the king slept, he heard something making a sound at his window. It turned out to be a little golden bird. It said to him, “You may not know it, but you’ve done me a great service twice. I want to do you a favor, too. When morning comes, get up, take your sprig of rosemary, and follow me. I’ll lead you to a place where you’ll find a horse. It has a silver arrow stuck in its body. You must pull that arrow out of the horse. Then it can lead you to where you’ll find your wife!”—The next morning, the king went out and followed the little golden bird. They finally came to a horse that was weak and sick and said, “A witch shot an arrow into my body.” - The king pulled the arrow out of the horse, and at that very moment the frail animal transformed into a wonderfully bold steed. The king mounted it; the sprig of rosemary moved ahead of the horse, and the little golden bird flew ahead, guiding the king on his magical steed along the way. Finally, they came to a glass castle. From a distance, they could already hear a buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, and when they entered—the king, the sprig of rosemary, and the little golden bird—the king could see another king standing there, made entirely of glass, and in the stomach of this glass king was a large buzzing fly. It was the fly that had been buzzing all along, and it was working its way through the king’s stomach with tremendous force, trying to break through from the inside out. The king asked the glass king what on earth that was. “Well,” said the other, “just take a look at the sofa; there sits my queen in her pink silk gown, and you’ll see the secret of it all in a moment. For right now, the web spun around the queen by the thorn hedge has been torn; soon it will be completely torn away. When there’s none left, when it’s completely gone, a wicked spider will come and spin a new web around the queen, and while I’m enchanted here in a glass body, my wife is being spun into the web by the spider. We’ve been trapped here like this for many hundreds of years now, until we’re set free.

[ 8 ] In fact, it turned out that an evil spider appeared and wrapped the queen in a spiderweb. But just as the spider was about to strike, the magic horse came running over and tried to kill the spider. It was just about to step on the spider when the Brummbrumm fly had also worked its way out and tried to come to the spider’s aid. But then the magic horse killed them both. At that moment, the king, who was made of glass, turned into a real human king; the Thorn Hedge turned into a nice girl; the queen was freed from the spiderweb; and the glass king explained how it all had come to be.

[ 9 ] When he was already king, he had to endure the harassment of an evil witch who lived in the forest at the edge of his estate. The witch wanted him to marry her daughter. But since he had taken his wife from a neighboring enchanted castle, she swore revenge on him. She turned him into a glass king and her daughter into a botfly that gnawed at his stomach. The queen was tormented by the fact that the witch herself turned into a wicked spider and wrapped the queen in a spiderweb. The maid was turned into a thorn hedge, and the horse he had taken was shot by the wicked witch and had that arrow lodged in its body. Now everything turned out well because the enchanted horse was freed, and as a result, the others were freed as well.

[ 10 ] Then the king asked the transformed former Glass King where he could find a wife who would be good for him. The Glass King directed him to the neighboring enchanted castle. The little golden bird flew ahead again, and when they arrived, they found a lily there. The rosemary stem was drawn right toward it, and he bowed before the lily. At that very moment, the lily turned into a beautiful girl who had been enchanted into it; for the queen of the neighboring castle had been her sister. Now, through what had happened, she, too, had been set free. The king took her home with him. They were married and lived in extraordinary happiness, both for themselves and for their people. They lived a long, long time. No one knows if they have since disappeared or died; if not, they must still be alive.

[ 11 ] So now we have another fairy tale before us, one that contains different elements. The first thing we must stop doing if we want to understand the content of true fairy tales or legends is to regard them as mere fiction born of the popular imagination. They are never that. The origin of all true fairy tales lies in ancient times—in an era when people, who had not yet reached the stage of intellectual maturity, possessed a certain degree of clairvoyance, which had remained as a remnant of a primordial form of clairvoyance. People who retained such clairvoyance for a long time experienced states of consciousness that lay between sleeping and waking. And when such people—who possessed this remnant of ancient clairvoyance—were in these intermediate states, they actually experienced the spiritual world, the spiritual world in its most manifold forms. It was not what a dream is today. For most people—though not for everyone—a modern dream is already something chaotic. In those ancient times, people with this ancient clairvoyance experienced something entirely regular—so regular, in fact, that the experiences were the same, or at least typically similar, among different individuals.

[ 12 ] What actually happens to people in these intermediate states between waking and sleeping? When people are in their physical bodies, they perceive the world around them as it can be seen with the physical senses. But behind that lies the spiritual world. In these intermediate states, it was as if a veil were being drawn away from people—namely, the veil of the physical world—and the spiritual world became visible. And everything that existed in the spiritual world stood in a certain relationship to what was within people. It is just as it is in the physical world: one cannot see colors with the ear, nor hear sounds with the eyes; what is outside corresponds to what is inside. The external senses, then, are silent in such intermediate states, but what was within—in the soul—became active. And just as the eye and the ear establish their connections with the external world, so now, in these intermediate states, the individual parts of the human astral body established their connections with the external world. When the external senses are silent, the soul comes alive.

[ 13 ] To begin with, we have three parts of the soul: the soul of sensation, the soul of understanding, and the soul of consciousness. Just as the eye and the ear have their different relationships to the external world, so do these three parts of the human soul have their very specific relationships to the spiritual environment. As a result, in such intermediate states, a person perceives one part or another of the spiritual environment, depending on whether one or the other part of the soul is directed toward it. Let us suppose that the soul of sensation is directed in particular toward the spiritual environment. Then the person sees all those spiritual beings in their surroundings that are intimately connected with the ordinary forces of nature—that which, so to speak, lives within the elements of nature. They do not see the interplay of the forces of nature itself, but they see what lives within that interplay—in wind and weather and in the other processes of nature. The beings who express themselves there—the human being sees them through his or her sensory soul. And when the sensory soul in particular is active, it is exactly as if the human being were still living in the time when he or she could not yet use the intellectual soul or the conscious soul. Human beings are then transported back in time and see their surroundings as they did in ancient times, when they did not yet know what to do with their intellectual soul or their conscious soul. But in those ancient times, he himself was still in intimate union with the forces of nature. He himself was, after all, still immersed in all those natural forces. He was a being consisting solely of a physical body, an etheric body, an astral body, and a sensory soul. That is how he inhabited the world. He was capable of doing the same things that those beings around him—who live in the lower forces of nature—can do today. They appear to him as the embodiment of what he once was, when human beings were such that they could uproot trees in a howling storm, and could command the weather, fog, and rain. Thus the beings around him appear to him as he himself once was in the past, when he was immensely powerful because he had not yet distanced himself so far from the forces of nature. The figures that appear to him there—which were, after all, the afterimages of his own form—appear to him as human beings of immense strength. These are the “giants.” In such an intermediate state, the human being sees the giants as real figures, and they represent a very specific kind of being to him: human beings with immense strength. But the giants are stupid because they come from a time when they were not yet able to use the intellectual soul. They are strong and stupid.

[ 14 ] Let us now consider what the intellectual soul can see in such intermediate states. It can see that things are shaped according to a certain wisdom, not merely by sheer force, as is the case with the giants. Through the nature of the intellectual soul, a person—when living within this intellectual soul—sees beings all around them, forms that bring wisdom into everything, that arrange everything wisely. While he generally perceives the giants as male, he sees the forms of the intellectual soul as the shaping female beings who bring wisdom into things, into the turmoil of the world. These are the “wise women” who dwell behind things, who are formative, who shape everything. In turn, he sees his own form in this figure—a time when he did not yet have a conscious soul, but already possessed an intellectual soul. These beings govern wisely behind the things of the world. And because he sees himself as intimately related to them, the human being very often feels, when in such an intermediate state: What I see there as the wise female beings is something that is actually related to me. Hence we see that here in the fairy tale the “concept of a sister” very often appears when these female entities appear.

[ 15 ] Now, when a person is in such a state of consciousness, there is something else they experience in their soul—something that can really only be grasped in a very intimate way. In such a state of the soul, the person is removed from ordinary physical perception. Now they say to themselves: Yes, what I see there is actually contained within what I see during the day, what becomes clear to my intellectual soul during the day; but when I see that during the day, it is exactly the opposite. - When a person in the intermediate state recalls the impressions of the day, they appear to him in reverse of what he feels when, during the day, he recalls the intermediate states—the various fleeting forms of his astral system. Now, when they recall their daytime impressions, it is as if what are actually the subtle, ethereal forms behind ordinary reality were appearing to them in rigid forms. That is why daytime objects appear to people as if they were, as it were, enchanted, containing within themselves that which constitutes their very essence. Wherever enchanted forms appear—whether they are enchanted in plants or in something else—this has come about in the following way: The human being sees the content of a wise being that lies behind the physical appearance, and he recalls: Yes, during the day this is merely a plant, and it is separated from my intellectual soul, so that I cannot actually reach it during the day. - When a person now feels this sense of alienation between the objects of the day and what lies behind them—for example, the daytime object of the lily and what lies behind it, the form related to his own intellectual soul—then he experiences the desire of his intellectual soul to unite with what lies behind the object during the day as a kind of “marriage,” like a merging of the nocturnal form with the diurnal form. The conscious soul, after all, arose in the human being at a time when he had already strayed very far from the forces of nature, when he could, so to speak, no longer peer behind the mysteries of existence. What the consciousness soul is capable of is far, far removed from those powerful forces we described earlier. Cunning is the ability of the consciousness soul, but it is far removed from strength, from great power. Through the consciousness soul, we perceive those spiritual beings who have remained at the stage where human beings had only the shell of the “I.” Human beings see these beings living there; they are not capable of much, their powers are small. And since human beings perceive their forms in images that correspond to their inner nature, they appear as “dwarfs.” Thus, during such intervals—when human beings are free from sensory perception—the entire realm that lies beyond sensory perception becomes populated with such figures. When human beings, in their somewhat higher moments, sense that they have this connection to the spiritual world, then the external events of life appear to them—as they indeed are in reality—as an expression of all these connections to the spiritual world. And if a person is particularly perceptive in life—if they do not view life merely in a dry and prosaic way, but rather clarify for themselves the connections between life and spiritual reality, especially in those states where people can still know something of spiritual reality—then the following may happen to them.

[ 16 ] Let us suppose for a moment that he is a somewhat sensible person and observes that certain people are shrewd and, through all manner of shrewdness, overcome the raw forces that otherwise prevail in human life. Then the person says to himself: What actually happens in life—where that which is brought about by cleverness overcomes the raw forces—is due to those powers standing behind us with whom we are related, and who bring about the fact that a force has become conscious within us that, through intelligence, overcomes the raw forces we ourselves still possessed when we were at the stage of the giants. - And the events within a person appear to them as mirror images of the external world events that have receded but can still be perceived in the spiritual world. The spiritual world reflects the struggles of those beings who are weaker in physical strength but have become stronger in spiritual power. Wherever the defeat of brute forces or giants occurs in a fairy tale, the underlying basis is perception in such an intermediate state. Human beings seek to gain insight into themselves. The spiritual world has vanished from their sight, but they tell themselves: I can gain insight if I am in such an intermediate state. There I will become so wise that cleverness and shrewdness will triumph over the brute forces! — And there appear the powers that indeed exist in the spiritual world and correspond to our powers of cleverness. They appear and act, enlightening people about what happens in the spiritual world.

[ 17 ] The person then recounts what has taken place in the spiritual world, and must do so in such a way as to say: What I have seen and am recounting happened once; but this actually always takes place behind the sensory world, in the spiritual world, where conditions of life are different. - It may be that every time the person in question has witnessed such a scene in that state, the event has already passed, and the conditions under which such an event can take place have already ceased to exist. But it may still be there. That depends on whether someone in an intermediate state appears somewhere to observe it. It is neither here nor there, but everywhere there is someone who can observe it. That is why every fairy tale that is true to the genre must begin this way: “Once upon a time, something happened—where was it, exactly? Well, where wasn’t it, actually?”

[ 18 ] That is the proper beginning of a fairy tale. And every fairy tale must end this way: “I once saw this”; and if what took place in the spiritual world has not fallen prey to death, has not died, then it still lives today. This is exactly the style in which every fairy tale must be told. One evokes the right feeling for what is being told when one always lets it begin and end in this way.

[ 19 ] Let us suppose that someone, like our king in the second fairy tale, were searching for a wife. He seeks a being who, in the human world, reflects as closely as possible what a human being can find as his archetype in the spiritual world—what can be found in the wise workings of those forces that can be perceived by the intellectual soul. This cannot be found in outward life. Therefore, he must subordinate the outer human being to the inner human being. On the physical plane, human beings are subject to error. He must allow the deeper forces to take effect if he wishes to find such a thing. He can do this if, even today, he places himself in that intermediate state and enters into a relationship with the forces that are at work there. But these people, who are bearers of such powers, live in seclusion, where they are not distracted by the great circumstances of life. Therefore, the king must go to the friend, to the hermit, who lives in poverty and solitude, but who knows the secret of the powers that bind human beings to the spiritual world, and who can give him the sprig of rosemary. And the king cannot find through any external means what can only be determined through his archetypes from the spiritual world. Therefore, he first dreams that the little golden bird will come, and he remains in a sort of dream-waking state. And there, through that clear, tentative feeling one experiences when in the spiritual world, he goes through everything I have shown you. He gradually comes to discover, from those forces that resist human purity and human dignity, what has been preserved right up to our own day: this pure capacity for happiness within the human being. No force bound to the physical world today can carry him there; only a force that appears to him when the intellectual soul—or indeed the inner soul force—is directed toward the spiritual world. This appears to him there in the form of the magical horse. But this horse in the physical world is merely the shadow of the spiritual reality that lies behind it. The harmful soul forces present in the physical world—those forces that are embodied in the physical world—have driven the arrow into the horse’s body. But the moment these forces are removed—when it is freed from them—the power that enables the king to assess the situation becomes active, so that, if he looks beyond mere outward appearances, he can find what is right for him. With his ordinary intellect, he could travel far and wide throughout the world; he would find people here and there, but he would pass right by the wife he is seeking—for he does not understand at all the circumstances that come into play here, the ones that work against it. The circumstances of the past have persisted.

[ 20 ] The circumstances he seeks are there, but distorted by the external physical world, where things appear completely transformed. In the physical world, we do not perceive the forces in their true nature at all. But in the transformed Glass King, the personality who can point him to where he should seek his wife appears to him in her true form. It is precisely through the conflicting forces of the outer world that he has been transformed. And these forces assert themselves through the very things by which human beings are completely entangled in the circumstances of the outer world. At first, the Glass King is completely entangled in the circumstances of the external world. This has made him inwardly different from what he could actually be. Human beings have things in their karma that are essentially like an injustice, things that disturb them like a pesky buzzing fly. All of this is revealed in the image that truly underlies the situation. One must imagine the entire situation: how, through the forces stirred up within the king, one might discover what lies behind the physical appearances. When his soul forces are stirred within him and when he directs them correctly, then the king finds what the external physical forces conceal from him: the “wife.”

[ 21 ] An external phenomenon that occurs—any event, let us say a courtship—is depicted, but it does not take place under ordinary circumstances; rather, it occurs under circumstances in which a person comes together with a spiritual guide, such as the hermit is to the king, who awakens deeper powers within him. Through this, the person is led to the powers through which everything in the physical world appears untrue for a time—powers that are necessary if he is to be enabled to perceive the truth. Thus we see how, although external circumstances form the basis, other states of consciousness that give rise to true insight are present.

[ 22 ] In this way, essentially every fairy tale can be interpreted; but one must interpret it from the spiritual reality that lies behind the entire world of fairy tales, and everything that appears to us in a fairy tale—even as individual features—we can gradually discover and interpret. For example, that mysterious connection that exists between the powers of living perception and the mysterious forces of life itself can become visible when one looks inward. It is wonderfully symbolized by the contact between the rosemary sprig and the lily. Although finer, higher spiritual forces rest within the lily, they must first be touched by the rosemary sprig; only then are they present.

[ 23 ] Thus, the world of fairy tales is based on the well-founded belief that everything around us is an enchanted spiritual reality, and that human beings arrive at the truth when they dispel the enchantment of the spiritual world. Of course, we must be clear that a fairy tale is originally, indeed, the retelling of an event that took place in the astral realm, but that it has been passed down through the generations. And people certainly have a knack for altering individual details! As soon as one collects fairy tales from the people, one does indeed have the remnant of an old, astral image, but individual features may have been altered. The interpreter can then very easily make the mistake of interpreting these added features in a particularly ingenious way, whereas in the correct interpretation of a fairy tale, one must never misconstrue them and must accept that one must go back to the original form and recognize it. Everything corresponds to such astral experiences.

[ 24 ] Thus, the question may arise: Was the human being, in an earlier time—as recorded in the spiritual experiences of the intermediate states—of the same form as today? No, he was not. The human being has passed through entirely different forms and only gradually developed into his present form. But even what human beings have overcome—what they have cast out of themselves—appears in a very specific outer form. In order to distance themselves from their immense power, human beings had to cast these gigantic forms out of themselves, overcome them, refine their powers, and elevate them to the intellectual soul and the conscious soul. There are also beings who have remained at the level of raw forces. Wherever something appears to human beings as evil—something that ought to have been overcome but has remained on the astral plane—it appears as “dragons” and the like, which are nothing other than grotesque forms, since transformed in the spiritual world, of that which human beings had to transform and project outward from themselves. And here, too, we must once again be aware that this corresponds to a very specific fact.

[ 25 ] Now, to conclude—and to help you process what we’ve discussed—I’d like to tell you a fairy tale that brings together the wide variety of themes we’ve seen unfold when a person enters into a relationship with the astral realm. And if you apply what we have said to this somewhat complicated fairy tale, you will be able to follow the thread almost on your own. This fairy tale is like a synthesis, like a summary of the most diverse forces interacting with one another.

[ 26 ] Once upon a time—where was it, anyway? Well, it could have happened anywhere, really; where hadn’t it happened?—there lived an old king. He had three sons and three daughters. As he lay dying, the king said to his three sons: “Give the three daughters to the first suitors who ask for their hands, so that they do not remain unmarried. That is the first lesson I give you. The second is this: you must not go to a certain place—and especially not at night!” And he pointed out that place to them—under a poplar tree in the forest.

[ 27 ] When the king had died, his sons resolved to follow his instructions. On the first evening, a voice called in through the window, asking that they give him a princess. The brothers did so and threw one of their sisters out the window. On the second evening, something called out through the window again, asking for a princess. So the brothers threw their second sister out the window. And on the third evening, something called out through the window once more, asking for a princess, and so the brothers threw their third sister out the window. Now they were alone.

[ 28 ] But now they were curious and really wanted to know what the story was with the poplar tree. So one evening they went outside and sat down under the poplar tree, lit a fire, and fell asleep. The oldest brother had to keep watch. As he paced back and forth with his saber, something appeared that was gnawing at the fire, and when he looked closer, he saw that it was a three-headed dragon. So he began to fight the three-headed dragon. He defeated it, buried it, but didn’t tell his brothers anything about it, and the next morning they went home. The next evening they went out again. They lit a fire once more and lay down. This time the second brother had to keep watch. Soon he saw something eating by the fire; and when he looked closer, it was a six-headed dragon. So he began to fight the six-headed dragon. He defeated it and buried it, but said nothing more, and the brothers thought nothing had happened. And they went home the next morning. On the third evening, they did the same thing: they lit a fire, and this time the youngest brother had to keep watch. No sooner had the others fallen asleep and he was pacing back and forth with his saber than he saw something eating by the fire. He looked more closely and hesitated a little, and as a result, some time passed. Then he began to fight the dragon, which was now a nine-headed one. But by the time he had defeated it, the fire had gone out. Now he didn’t want to surprise his brothers, so he set out to find some light. Then he saw a glimmer of light among the branches; he went to get it, but it wasn’t enough. Then he saw something fighting in the skies and asked what it was, and the fighting beings said, “We are the Sun and the Dawn; we are fighting for the day.” - So he untied the cord he’d used to fasten his trousers and tied the Sun and the Dawn together with it, so that the day could not begin. Then he went on to find light and fire. He then came to a place where three giants were sleeping by a mighty fire. He took some fire, but just as he was about to step over one of the giants, some of the fire fell on the giant, waking him up. The giant reached out his hand toward him, showed him to the others, and said, “Look what a little mosquito I’ve caught!”—The prince was utterly miserable, for the giants wanted to kill him. But first they wanted something from him, so they made a deal with him. They wanted to take three princesses for themselves; but there was a dog and a chicken, and they made such a racket that the giants couldn’t get through. The prince promised to help them, and in return the giants agreed to set him free.

[ 29 ] A ball of string was then tied to him, and the prince continued on his way with it. It had been agreed that every time he pulled on the string, one of the giants would follow him. He soon came to a river, but he could not cross it. Meanwhile, the brothers were still asleep. He pulled on the thread—and one of the giants came over, threw a log across the river, and he was able to continue on his way. Then he arrived at the king’s castle, where the sisters were supposed to be. He went inside and entered one of the chambers. There he saw one of the sisters. She was lying on a copper bed and had a little golden ring on her finger. He took it off her finger, put it on his own finger, and went on. Then he entered the second chamber, where the second sister was lying on a silver bed, and she, too, had a little golden ring on her finger. He took it off and put it on his own finger. Then he entered the third chamber. There, lying on a golden bed, was the third sister, and he put her golden ring on his finger as well. As he looked around further, he discovered that there was an entrance to the castle with a very small opening. So he pulled on the string, and the first giant came toward him. But at the very moment he was about to pass through the gate—with his head already through but his body still outside—he quickly cut off the giant’s head. And he did the same to the second and third giants. Now he had killed all three giants. He then returned to his brothers, after first untying the Sun and Dawn. They looked at one another and said, “Oh, what a long night that was!” “Yes,” he said, “it was a long night!” and went over to his brothers. But just as the others had done, he didn’t tell them anything else, and so they went home.

[ 30 ] After some time, the three brothers wanted to get married, and the youngest brother told the others that he knew where three king’s daughters were and led them to that castle. The three brothers got married; the youngest married the most beautiful one, the one who had been lying on the golden bed. The youngest was his father-in-law’s heir, and so he had to live in a foreign land. But when some time had passed, he wanted to visit his homeland and take his wife with him. Then his father-in-law said to him: “If you set out on this journey, your wife will be snatched away from you at the border—and perhaps you will never see her again!” But they wanted to travel anyway, so they set out, taking thirty guards with them for protection. When they reached the border, however, his wife was snatched away as if by an unknown force. He then returned and asked his father-in-law how and where he could find his wife again. His father-in-law told him: “If that is the case, you can only find her in the White Land.” So he set out on his journey to find his wife again. But he had no idea which way led to the White Land. He first came upon a castle and decided to ask there for directions to the White Land. When he entered the castle, he saw the lady of the castle sitting there, and he recognized her as one of his sisters, the one the brothers had previously thrown out the window, and he asked about her husband. He was summoned inside. It was a four-headed dragon—and he was asked about the way to the White Land. But the four-headed dragon said he did not know where the White Land was; perhaps the animals would know. The animals were summoned, but none of them knew the way to the White Land. So the prince continued on his way and came to a second castle. There he found the second of his sisters, whom his brothers had given away. He asked about her husband. He was summoned—and there stood an eight-headed dragon. But he, too, knew nothing of a White Land. Perhaps, he said, the animals might know. The animals were summoned again, but none knew the way to the White Land, and the prince had to continue on his way. After a while, he came to a third castle. When he entered, he found the third of the sisters there. He told her what he wanted—she replied very sadly. Her husband was summoned; it turned out to be a twelve-headed dragon. He was asked about the White Land, but he said he didn’t know; however, it might be that one of his animals knew. So the animals were summoned, but none of them knew of the White Land either. Last of all came a lame wolf. He said, “Yes, I once invaded a land where I was wounded, so that I am now lame. I know the White Land—alas, I know it!” - Then the prince said, “I want to be taken there!” - But the wolf refused, even if he were promised entire flocks of sheep. Finally, though, he agreed to lead the prince far enough so that he could look into the White Land from the top of a mountain. They eventually reached this mountain, and there the lame wolf left him.

[ 31 ] Then the prince came upon a spring. He drank from it and felt wonderfully refreshed by the water. Then a woman approached, whom he immediately recognized as his abducted wife. And she, who also recognized him at once, said to him: “You cannot win me back; for if you did, the sorcerer who now has me as his wife would come and take me away again at once on his magic horse.” It can fly through the air as fast as a thought!” “Well,” said the prince, “what are we to do then?” “There is a way,” she replied, “and that is: we must find a faster horse. Go to the old woman who lives on the border of the kingdom. Hire yourself out to her as a servant. She’ll give you hard tasks, but you’ll see how you can manage them; and as your wages, ask for the youngest foal and a saddle—the one lying up there on the floor, covered in chicken manure—and third, ask for a very old bridle!”

[ 32 ] Armed with this lesson, the prince set off and came to a stream. As he rested there, he saw a fish lying on the bank of the stream in the countryside. The fish pleaded with him: “Take me and throw me back into the water—you’ll be doing me a great favor!” He did so—but just as he was about to do it, the little fish gave him a whistle and said to him: “If you ever need anything, just take this whistle and blow it, and I’ll do you a favor!” He took the little whistle with him and continued on his way. After a while, he came across an ant that was being chased by its enemy, a spider. He rescued her, and the ant gave him a little whistle in return, telling him that if he ever found himself in trouble and whistled with it, he would be helped. He put it in his pocket and continued on his way. Soon he came upon a fox. The fox was wounded and had a silver arrow lodged in him; and the fox said to him, “If you pull the arrow out for me and give me some stonecrop for my wound, you will be helped when you find yourself in a difficult situation!”—The prince did so, and the fox gave him another little whistle. With these three little pipes, the prince now went to the old woman at the border of the kingdom. He told her he wanted to be hired as her servant. “You may well do that,” she said, “but the work here is quite hard; no one has ever managed to complete it.”—And with that, she took him out into the field. There, ninety-nine people were hanging. The old woman said, “These are all the people who have hired themselves out to me as servants, but not a single one has managed to complete the service. So if you’re up for it and fail, you can always be the hundredth!”—But he hired himself out to her for a year anyway; though in that region, a year lasts only three days.

[ 33 ] On the first day, the old woman cooked him a dream soup, and then she sent him on his way with three horses. But since he had drunk the dream soup, he soon fell asleep, and when he woke up again—the three horses were gone. He thought of the whistles, pulled out the first little whistle, and whistled. There was a sort of spring right there. Three little goldfish came swimming up, and when he touched them, they turned into the three horses. And so he brought the horses back to the old woman. After all, she herself had turned the horses into goldfish in the first place. So when she saw him with the horses, she scolded him and threw herself from side to side.

[ 34 ] The next day, the old woman cooked him another dream soup and then sent him away with the horses. He fell asleep again after eating the dream soup, and when he awoke, the horses were gone. So he blew the second little whistle, and at that very moment three golden ants appeared. When he touched them, they turned back into his three horses, which he then returned to the old woman. The old woman flew into a rage—since she herself had enchanted the horses—and scolded them even more. But the prince was saved.

[ 35 ] On the third day, the old woman said to herself: “Now I have to go about this much more cleverly!” She cooked him another dream soup and sent him out with the horses. When he fell asleep from the dream soup, she turned the horses into three golden eggs, and she placed these eggs under her own seat—and sat down on them. The prince awoke; the horses were gone, so he blew his third whistle, and—just imagine how clever it all seems—the fox came running over. The fox said: “This time it’s a bit trickier, but we’ll manage it. I’ll go to the chicken coop and make a great howl there. The old woman will come running out, and while she’s gone, you’ll touch the three golden eggs under her seat; and when you touch them, they’ll be transformed.”—And so it happened. The fox went to the chicken coop, let out a loud howl; the old woman jumped up, ran outside, the prince touched the golden eggs, and when the old woman returned, the three horses were there. Now the old woman had no choice but to ask the prince, “What do you want as a reward?”—she thought he would want something very special. But he said, “I only want the foal that was born tonight, along with the saddle lying on the ground, which is completely covered in chicken droppings, and an old bridle.”—And that’s what he got. The horse was still small. He had to carry it on his back. When evening came, the little horse said, “Now you can sleep for a while; I’ll go to a spring and drink some water.” In the morning, it returned. On the second day, it could already run at tremendous speed. The second night went just like the first. And on the third day, it led him to the place where his wife was held captive. There, the wife was seated on the little horse, and—this is a detail that, for anyone familiar with the story, is such profound proof of the fairy tale’s occult origin—the prince said: “At what speed will we now travel through the air?” And the wife replied: “At the speed of thought.” - When the illegitimate owner noticed this, he also mounted his magic horse to give chase. Then the horse asked him, “At what speed will we travel through the air?” — And he said, “At the speed of the will or of thought!” — It raced after them, drawing closer and closer, and when it was already very near, the horse told the one flying ahead to wait. “I will not wait until you are very close,” was the reply. At that moment, the other horse rose up and threw the robber off, joined forces with the first horse, and the queen was freed. Now the prince could return with his wife, and they continued to live in their land. And if this story has not faded from memory, they are still alive today.

[ 36 ] This is a different, somewhat more complicated fairy tale that contains a wide variety of elements. Until we are in a position to say more here about the interpretation of this particular fairy tale, let us allow it to sink into our souls so that we may unravel for ourselves the various elements that harmonize so wonderfully in this story. Of course, whatever has been added through false tradition will have to be sifted out. But if you view it according to the principle described today, you will be able to find the thread running through everything that appears here: the dragon motif, the motif of the three sisters who are cast out, the motif of overcoming the dragons by fire, the motif of wisdom, the motif of the marriage of the intellectual soul to the outer world; and now, once again in a unique way, the motif of wisdom associated with the finer magical powers. Then Nemesis, karma, appears in a remarkable way as the king’s son encounters his sisters once more: the three brothers have cast out their sisters’ higher nature, hence the slaying of the dragons by fire and so on.

[ 37 ] Such fairy tales are the experiences of ordinary people who find themselves in such intermediate states. Similarly, the great myths of the peoples are representations of what the initiates experience on the astral plane and the higher planes. Fairy tales relate to the great myths of the peoples as follows: We can unravel the great national myths by taking the vast, all-encompassing conditions of the cosmos as our foundation, and we unravel fairy tales by taking the secrets of the people as our foundation. Everything in a fairy tale appears in such a way that the various events and images are nothing other than retellings of astral experiences. All people had such astral experiences in a certain primeval age. Then they became increasingly rare. Some people told them to others, who in turn absorbed them, and thus the fairy tales traveled from region to region. They appeared in a wide variety of languages, and we noticed the similarity of the treasure trove of fairy tales across the entire world when we were able to distill the astral experiences underlying them.

[ 38 ] Anyone who travels through the world today as a discerning person can still find the last remnants of atavistic clairvoyance. Here and there, someone comes along and recounts what they have witnessed as their own experiences in the astral world. Such a person, wandering through the lands in this way, may then hear fairy tales from those who still have a sense of true reality. This is how they are recorded in our books. This is how the Brothers Grimm collected their fairy tales. They also collected tales from others who were mostly not clairvoyants themselves, but who received the fairy tales third-, fourth-, or fifth-hand—sometimes even tenth-hand—so that they reached them in a manifoldly distorted form. But the twilight era was drawing to a close, when people still had their intimate connection with the spiritual world, which has just been described. More and more, people are withdrawing from this spiritual world. Atavistic clairvoyance will become increasingly rare—at least the kind that can be described as healthy—and true clairvoyance will increasingly be limited to that which is acquired through training. And regarding what people saw in ancient times, most people who still know anything about these matters will be able to say in the future: “Once upon a time, old people recounted this or that based on their astral experiences. Where was it, anyway? It could actually have been anywhere.” - But today one very rarely finds anyone who will recount such things from a genuine source. And one will be able to say of these fairy-tale experiences: They once took place—and if these fairy-tale experiences have not died, they still live on today. But for most people who are inwardly entangled with the physical plane, they have long since died.