The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Fourth Lecture

[ 1 ] Today I will have to make a few episodic additions to our ongoing discussion, prompted in part by current events and also by the relationship of our anthroposophical movement to the ideas and ways of thinking prevalent today.

[ 2 ] First, I would like to speak about an endeavor in the field of time that, from a certain point of view, may be quite interesting to us. I have often mentioned to you in the course of our anthroposophical reflections the name of the natural scientist—and specifically, he is a forensic anthropologist—Moritz Benedikt; however, he expanded the scope of his scientific investigations to encompass a wide variety of phenomena. Recently, he has been engaged—intensively and in depth—in scientific experiments concerning so-called dowsing. Dowsing has, after all, gained a certain significance due to the circumstances of this war. As you know, dowsing essentially involves using a specifically shaped, forked rod made from a certain type of wood, such as hazel, which is held in a specific manner—either with an underhand or overhand grip—and by swinging the rod with its two prongs, one can locate what lies beneath the ground, sometimes metal treasures, but also, in particular, springs, water, and the like. — Now, Moritz Benedikt, who is by no means a dreamer—far from it—and who, on the contrary, belongs to those who would sharply reject everything we call anthroposophy, has recently devoted himself entirely to this dowsing practice in his research, partly prompted by military operations in certain regions. In doing so, he has attempted, so to speak, to give the matter a rational foundation. He has experimented with people whom he calls “darkly adapted.” I will explain shortly why he is attempting to establish that every human being is, in fact, an asymmetrical, two-part being—that is, that a person to the left of their line of symmetry is a different being than to the right of it. This difference between left and right is not merely a difference, but rather a polarity. In a certain sense, there are forces present in the left and right halves of the body that act as oppositely as positive and negative magnetism and positive and negative electricity, similar to positive and negative force impulses in relation to one another.

[ 3 ] Now Moritz Benedikt found that when a person takes a rod in their hand—that is, takes hold of the two prongs—the force complex on the left side and the force complex on the right side unite, as he says: they form a common stream of emanation, that is, they merge into one another. Now, if, say, a person who is particularly strongly permeated by the forces in question walks over a patch of ground beneath which there is water, the person’s forces on the left and right change. That is to say, the water—which itself has an upward flow—flows into the person’s forces, and as a result, the person’s force field changes. It is interesting that Moritz Benedikt, who is a physician himself, has found that particularly sensitive individuals can be affected—even to the point of becoming ill—simply by walking over a spot beneath which there is a spring, or specifically a spot beneath which there is a certain metal vein or the like. Thus, there are certain conditions—of which Benedikt, who is a physician himself, believes that doctors know little more than their names—such as melancholy, hypochondria, and hysteria, which are often lumped together; these can be triggered in certain individuals simply by walking over an area beneath which lies a corresponding spring, even though the person may not notice it or may not even be aware of it. But if they use the divining rod, they do not become ill. Because the divining rod unites the two energy currents and deflects them, the energy that might otherwise have led to the illness of some part of the body is diverted. So essentially, what we are dealing with is a diversion of energy currents within the organism through the divining rod held in the hands. The rod is therefore a twig that has a single stem and then forks, just as branches fork; it is cut in this way, and one holds it by the two forked ends.

[ 4 ] Well, how exactly does Professor Benedikt determine all this? That is the question. He determines it with the help of certain individuals whom he calls “darkly conformist.” What does he do? Specifically, he has made use of two such “dark-adapted” individuals who, when sitting in the darkroom—that is, in a room with the lights turned off—are able to observe the people toward whom the rod reacts. He calls his assistants, his experimenters, “dark-adapted”; he calls them that because, when they observe people in the dark, they see colors and the like. And this ability to see colors in the dark allows them to distinguish that the colors visible on the left side of a person differ from those visible on the right. Since it is now clearly evident that these colors—which are visible in the darkroom, where ordinary physical vision is absent (the room is darkened to that extent)—represent what Benedikt calls “emanation,” what we would call the deepest physical aura, Professor Benedikt can, with the help of such individuals—whom he calls “dark-adapted”—simply test how asymmetrical a person is, showing different colors on the left than on the right, and how the entire color pattern changes when the person takes the divining rod in hand and is exposed to it in the laboratory. One does not need any particular source; a small water basin or a piece of metal will do just as well. In the darkroom, one can demonstrate what the effect of the divining rod is based on. It is interesting to take a look at a few passages from Professor Benedikt’s latest publication. He says:

[ 5 ] “There are, albeit a relatively small number of people, who are ‘adapted to the dark.’ A relatively larger portion of this minority sees a great many objects glowing in the darkness, without colors, and only relatively very few also see the objects as colored. Reichenbach has already stated that every human being carries around a large shell of luminous substance (emanations).

[ 6 ] Since then, I have also tested the colorless and colored light phenomena many times through critical observation. A large number of scholars and physicians were examined in my darkroom by my two “dark-adapted” subjects, engineer Josef Póra and civil servant Hedwig Kaindl, and none of those examined could harbor any reasonable doubt as to the accuracy of the observations and descriptions. These gentlemen were convinced that the aforementioned individuals adapted to darkness saw the unexpected visitors, identified all parts of their bodies, and determined the color of their emanations.

[ 7 ] Those with color vision who are adapted to darkness see only the forehead and crown as blue at the front, the remaining half also blue, and the left side red—or, in some cases, such as that of Engineer Pöra, orange-yellow. The same division and coloring occur at the back.»

[ 8 ] “I would like to point out here that a closed electric battery in the darkroom glows red at the anode and blue at the cathode—that is, analogous to the left and right halves of the body. The two polar halves of the body are connected by the rod to form an emanation current. The body-rod current enters into a relationship with the emanating substances, and the deflection of the rod is the expression of this relationship.”

[ 9 ] It is very interesting. I would like to emphasize this point explicitly—so that what I am saying is not misunderstood—that this has nothing to do with what is described as the “aura” in my book *Theosophy*. With this aura, we are dealing with the modes of manifestation of the higher soul and spirit, whereas Professor Benedikt, in his darkroom, is dealing with emanations and radiations that are entirely subliminal—that is, lying below the threshold of consciousness—but imperceptible to ordinary sensory perception. What should interest us is simply that the natural scientist today is permitted to speak in a thoroughly precise manner of a subliminal aura and to conduct investigations into it, and so on. It is interesting that Benedikt himself must admit that dowsing ability, incidentally, is not a superior human quality; it is possible even with an otherwise lower level of organization, whereas it fails in intellectually advanced individuals. This indicates, on the one hand, that dowsing ability—that is, the particularly strong response of the dowsing rod—is related to sub-soul impulses in certain individuals. But in any case, these sub-psychic impulses are certainly not perceptible through the ordinary senses—or at least not in the usual sensory way. For Professor Benedikt does, after all, require—I would say—“darkly adapted” individuals as test subjects.

[ 10 ] Of course, the matter still faces some opposition today; but that doesn’t matter, because all such things face opposition, and Professor Benedikt himself says, right on page twelve of his little book:

[ 11 ] “The simple man instinctively recognizes the sovereignty of facts; the academically educated man, the sovereignty of opinions. The farmer knows the fact from childhood through tradition, and it becomes an irrefutable reality for him as soon as he has seen and felt the first bud on the branch. The ‘intellectual’ puts on blinders against the truth when he cannot fit facts into the chamber of his wisdom.”

[ 12 ] It usually depends on where the person in question draws the line. Isn’t that right? Professor Benedikt sets them aside when it comes to studying the aura associated with dowsing; yet he puts them back on immediately when it comes to higher anthroposophical realms. But that doesn’t matter. We don’t need to repay like with like, but we must at least take note of such a thing.

[ 13 ] Another interesting point, for example, is what Professor Benedikt discovered through his experiments:

[ 14 ] “We wish to emphasize here the great significance of these experiments for the theory of colors. Newton’s theory—that color effects arise exclusively from reflected or transmitted prismatic colored light, a theory that is also generally accepted without reservation by contemporary physicists—was contested by Goethe. He asserted that, in the case of naturally colored objects and materials treated with natural colors, part of the color impression arises, so to speak, autonomously from these colored objects. Goethe’s evidence met with no outward success and was only partly indirect.

[ 15 ] The theory of emanation provides an exceptionally dramatic explanation here, using the pendulum to confirm Goethe’s view; it must be emphasized, however, that the reflected light carries the emanation of the same color along with it.»

[ 16 ] You can see from this that, halfway through his explorations in these border areas, even Benedikt—since he is, after all, conducting experiments in these fields—must inevitably arrive at Goethe’s theory of colors. If, like me, one has been engaged in defending Goethe’s theory of colors for more than three decades, one can assess whether there is a connection between the doctrine of emanation and Goethe’s theory of colors, and whether, on the other hand, there is a connection between all the dull, materialistic theorizing that dominates modern physics and, in turn, the rejection of Goethe’s theory of colors. It is interesting to note that as soon as one delves even a little into the theory of colors, one makes a bit of progress, but the path always leads in the direction that the anthroposophical approach must take.

[ 17 ] In our time, it is very important that a man who is now experimentally engaged with these matters must admit to himself: The simple man instinctively recognizes the sovereignty of facts. The scholar or the academically distorted mind, as Benedikt says, recognizes only the sovereignty of opinions. This is very important. For no era has been so heavily influenced by opinions as our own, even though our era repeatedly emphasizes: “Common sense is what matters!” — This is emphasized time and again, especially in politics. But this common sense must be acquired with great effort today; for it is not present today—that is the great secret—and must be regained by reclaiming what earlier times still possessed atavistically—the connection with the spiritual world—which is no longer present atavistically today, but must now be regained along the paths indicated by anthroposophy. This is very important. One might say: So there sits Benedikt, who is, after all, a bit vain—isn’t that right? I’ve mentioned this before, which is why his books aren’t exactly a pleasure to read, though that doesn’t apply to this one—he sits in his darkroom conducting pendulum experiments. He even had himself photographed like that; the picture is at the beginning of the book. He is actually describing the physical auras in order to uncover what kinds of interactive forces are at work between the human being and the rest of the world. Of course, this is of extraordinary importance. It is of great importance because, through physical research alone, the concept of space is—I would say—placed on a new foundation. Water—where is it? Well, down there inside the earth, isn’t it? Now the dowser walks over it, and the rod strikes. An emanation rises upward, uniting with the human emanation. These emanations merge. So the water is not only down there, but it has something within it that reaches all the way up. Do you remember how much importance I once attached to this when I quoted the famous—or perhaps not so famous—but significant saying by Schelling: “A thing does not merely act where it is, but it is where it acts.” It all comes down to how one conceives of such things. You can read in my book on the “Riddles of Philosophy” what significance such a view, such a concept, such an idea holds when one wishes to look at reality, rather than at preconceived opinions that cling to words.

[ 18 ] So, I would say, one can demonstrate in great detail how, in a sense, anthroposophy is at the helm and is effectively steering the current way of thinking. One can indeed demonstrate this in detail, though of course individual people do not follow through. But whenever they try to approach even a single detail without prejudice, things move in this direction. The war brought these investigations into dowsing to the surface particularly because, in certain territories, it was necessary to know what was actually down there—namely, when it came to water that had to be used by those who had to stay in those areas, or when springs had to be tapped. You can see from this that there is in fact much more present in human beings—even when looking at the most basic things—than today’s philosophy or biology could ever imagine.

[ 19 ] It is indeed very strange, and it is indeed necessary—those who have long been interested in our cause understand that it is necessary—that, even though it can be demonstrated in detail how anthroposophy provides the right guidance, this anthroposophy is treated in the manner I have already described in my recent reflections here. But today I must speak about a literary phenomenon that is among the most characteristic—I would say—of the present day with regard to the anthroposophical spiritual movement, characteristic for reasons that you will see for yourselves from the discussions themselves.

[ 20 ] A book, *Vom Jenseits der Seele* (*On the Afterlife of the Soul*), a thick volume, has been published by Max Dessoir, a professor at the University of Berlin. This book contains a detailed chapter on anthroposophy. This detailed chapter on anthroposophy is, in fact, highly characteristic. One might have the same thought I had when I first picked up the book—it has just been published, after all—and I thought to myself: It is certainly interesting to hear how official philosophy—the kind of philosophy that counts itself as university philosophy, and which is indeed regarded as such because the author in question is a professor at the university—expresses its views on anthroposophy. And I thought that would be interesting. Certainly, opposition must arise today for a wide variety of reasons, which I have already mentioned. That contemporary philosophy is still opposed to anthroposophy is not particularly surprising, and it does no harm if that opposition is not slanderous or spiteful. It is precisely through dialectical dialogue that something extraordinarily beneficial could be achieved. But, you see, as I studied this rather thick book, I found myself thinking: the subject is not interesting at all. The book is not at all interesting, for the simple reason that this by no means brief chapter on anthroposophy in the thick book—along with various other points Dessoir raises—demonstrates in the most characteristic way that he lacks even the slightest understanding of the anthroposophical school of thought, in that he is, so to speak, unable to formulate a single sentence — he tries to describe what anthroposophy aims for — that is actually correct. That is very strange. But the inaccuracies are extraordinarily characteristic.

[ 21 ] If you read this so superficially, you might ask yourself: How can a person who actually claims to be intelligent come to draw such caricatures of a subject after having studied it—because if you’re a decent person, you’re not supposed to write about something unless you’ve studied it, right? But when you read what he presents, you get the impression: yes, this man doesn’t understand a thing about the subject; he misrepresents everything in the most unbelievable way! So badly, in fact, that this misrepresentation can actually become a problem for anyone who takes such matters seriously. One wonders: How does a person—who, simply by virtue of being a university professor, generally has a claim to being regarded as an intelligent person—at least relatively speaking—how does he end up getting it so wrong across the board? That really does become a problem at first.

[ 22 ] Well, if you have some philological experience—and it’s not for nothing that I spent six and a half years working alongside philologists at the Goethe-Schiller Archive in Weimar—you can sometimes solve precisely such problems with great accuracy. And I’ll start right away—so that we’re not talking about something vague—with the resolution of a particularly massive misunderstanding. As you all know, anyone who has read my books—if they’ve even come across this point in the course of reading them; after all, *The Secret Science* explicitly sets out to examine the history of the post-Atlantean era—cannot for a moment doubt that: I divide the post-Atlantean era into seven successive periods and consider the time in which we now live to be the fifth post-Atlantean period, the fifth period within the post-Atlantean era. How often do I say: We are in the fifth period of the post-Atlantean era. The first is the Proto-Indian, the second the Proto-Persian, and so on. You are familiar with this, of course. Max Dessoir, who writes—after he realized that there is such a division of time:

[ 23 ] “Ancient India is not present-day India; indeed, all geographical, astronomical, and historical designations are to be understood symbolically. Indian culture was followed by the primordial Persian culture, led by Zarathustra, who, however, lived much earlier than the historical figure bearing that name. Other periods followed. We are now in the sixth period.” [p. 258 ff.]

[ 24 ] Here you have such utter nonsense, where someone is lecturing about what I said. That becomes a problem, doesn’t it? Because, you see, a professor is precise. A professor is precise, but in this case he’s writing nonsense. That becomes a problem. Look up page 294 in my *Secret Science*. There you will find the solution to this problem. It states there that the fifth cultural epoch was gradually being prepared during the fourth, and that the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries of this fourth epoch are particularly important for the preparation of the fifth. It says:

[ 25 ] “In the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries A.D., a cultural era was taking shape in Europe that began in the fifteenth century and in which the present day still lives. It was to gradually replace the fourth, the Greco-Latin era. It is the fifth post-Atlantean cultural epoch.”

[ 26 ] That’s what the man read. But he reads so carefully that by the fifth line he has already forgotten what it’s about—or he didn’t write it down precisely in his card catalog—and when he looked it up again, he saw the first line, “in the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries,” that’s when the fifth post-Atlantean period began; and because he looked up there—he’s precise, being a professor—he checks again, but he looks at the first line instead of the sixth; he sees: “in the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries,” and writes down: “We are in the sixth period,” while the lines that follow state: “It is the fifth post-Atlantean cultural epoch.”

[ 27 ] This is the approach of a man who is now out of his depth when it comes to writing about a phenomenon such as the anthroposophical movement. One might say: It is an unbelievable superficiality, masked only by the assumption that professors are, after all, precise. So if someone reads this without consulting my books, that is cause for concern. It is not particularly important whether it is the fifth or sixth period, but the problem is resolved here, telling us: This man is an unscrupulous superficialist! That is resolved with philological precision at this point.

[ 28 ] Now let us continue our examination in order to first establish the standard by which these remarks should be measured. On page 255, Dessoir writes the following sentence:

[ 29 ] “The training for a higher state of consciousness begins—at least for people today—by immersing oneself with all one’s strength in an image as a purely spiritual reality. A symbolic image is best suited for this, such as that of a black cross (symbolizing destroyed lower instincts and passions), the intersection of which is surrounded by seven red roses (symbolizing purified instincts and passions).»

[ 30 ] Now, when I read this in Max Dessoir’s work, I ask myself: Is this anthroposophy completely crazy? What is left as a symbol of purified drives and passions if the black cross is the symbol of “destroyed” drives and passions? If the base instincts and passions are all destroyed to begin with, what is there left to be transformed? So that’s nonsense! But it’s a quote, you see. Let’s look it up on page 311! It says:

[ 31 ] “After indulging in such thoughts and feelings, transform them into the following symbolic image. Imagine a black cross. Let this be a symbol of the annihilation of the base aspects of the instincts and passions . . .”

[ 32 ] Professor Max Dessoir boldly transforms this into a “symbol for destroyed base instincts and passions,” whereas the text here reads: “the destroyed baseness of instincts and passions.” That is how carefully people read, and that is how carefully people quote; whereas in the humanities, it is precisely essential to conscientiously take the trouble to phrase things precisely—Max Seiling calls this poor German. While it is essential in the humanities to quote accurately, the meticulous professor deems it necessary to treat the matter in the most sloppy manner—I can find no other word for it—and reduce it to a superficial level.

[ 33 ] Now I ask myself: So this is how such a man presents anthroposophy; he presents it in such a way that everything—absolutely everything—appears as a caricature. One comes to the conclusion that he is incapable of conveying it. But the problem here is not a lack of intelligence; rather, there is a complete lack of the most ordinary scientific rigor. Unscrupulousness reigns! Let’s take another passage where he discusses how a person can attain clairvoyance:

[ 34 ] “Through such inner work, the soul attains what all philosophy strives for. Of course, the bodyless consciousness must be protected from being confused with dreamlike clairvoyance and hypnotic processes. When our soul forces are heightened, the ‘I’ can experience itself above the level of consciousness, as it were, in a condensation and autonomization of the spiritual; indeed, even in the perception of colors and tones, it can exclude the body’s mediation from the experience.” [p. 255.]

[ 35 ] Nowhere does it say that a person can exclude the body even in the ordinary perception of color and sound. But Professor Max Dessoir goes and writes that. One cannot hope that such a person can understand anything at all, for he does not even possess what he claims to want to understand; he has something entirely different! Try, for example, to find the term “cell body” in my work! In the context of “esoteric science” and so on, the term “cell body” has no meaning. Yes, but what does Professor Dessoir do? He says:

[ 36 ] “While the descent frees the spirit from the cellular body, it does not detach it from all forms of physicality.” [p. 256.]

[ 37 ] For: “... The functions of the astral body are manifold. It contains the archetypes according to which the etheric body gives the physical body its form.” [p. 256 £.]

[ 38 ] I don't talk about “cell bodies” at all, but rather about the physical body. As soon as you say “cell bodies,” everything I say about the physical body loses all meaning. So you see, he doesn't understand a thing. Here's another cute example:

[ 39 ] “It hardly needs to be demonstrated that recovery after sleep can be explained in a different way—namely, more simply and accurately—than by means of the astral body. Nor will we, like Steiner, attempt to ‘explain’ the ‘falling asleep’ of a leg by the separation of the etheric body from the physical body.” [p. 257.]

[ 40 ] He puts “explain” in quotation marks. Take a look at the passage on page 96:

[ 41 ] “For example, when a person puts strain on one of their limbs, a part of the etheric body can become separated from the physical body. A limb in which this occurs is said to have fallen asleep. And the peculiar sensation one then experiences stems from the separation of the etheric body.”

[ 42 ] It goes on to say: “Of course, a materialistic way of thinking can once again deny the invisible in the visible and say: All of this stems solely from the physical disturbance caused by the pressure.”

[ 43 ] So it is not disputed that the pressure caused a physical disturbance; this is fully acknowledged, and it explains why one falls asleep. But what I am talking about here is something other than falling asleep: the peculiar sensation one experiences then stems from the separation of the etheric body.

[ 44 ] So the sensation one feels when a limb falls asleep stems from the separation of the etheric body.

[ 45 ] “Nor will we, following Steiner, attempt to ‘explain’ the ‘numbness’ of a leg by separating the etheric body from the physical body.” [p. 257.]

[ 46 ] I did not intend to explain the separation itself, but rather the peculiar feeling that arises. One wonders: Can such people even read anymore? Are they capable of reading a seriously intellectual book that pays attention to all its subjects? But it is precisely such people who occupy the university lecterns! — that is an afterthought that does, after all, carry a certain significance — people who are capable of dealing with contemporary phenomena in this manner. I had actually thought I would be able to offer you today a discussion of how to refute serious objections, and I am compelled to show you that we are dealing with a superficial person who distorts everything in this way. I would have welcomed a different kind of rebuttal!

[ 47 ] Of course, Dessoir is particularly—how shall I put it?—ready to engage in self-satisfying finger-licking whenever the “Saturnian conditions” are discussed. There, he naturally finds particularly offensive what he describes as follows:

[ 48 ] “Spirits of various kinds moved within Saturn’s orbit, such as those of Form (Exusiai), Personality (Archai), Fire (Archangeloi), and Love (Seraphim). Later, the Angeloi gave rise to processes of nutrition and excretion on Saturn, while the Cherubim gave rise to dull, dreamlike states of consciousness; even today, the clairvoyant experiences these states through a supersensory perception similar to the sense of smell, for these states are actually always present.” [p. 258.]

[ 49 ] So the clairvoyant perceives through a form of extrasensory perception similar to smell! Of course, that’s so obvious it’s almost laughable—the clair-smeller smells the Saturn states! Dessoir can’t even resist saying:

[ 50 ] “I am surprised that the ‘scent of holiness’ and the are not associated with this.” [p. 258.]

[ 51 ] One would certainly debate with such a man, if he put one in that position. But turn to page 168 [of *The Secret Science*] and see where he got this passage from:

[ 52 ] “Inwardly (within Saturn), this dull human will reveals itself to the clairvoyant faculty of perception through effects that can be compared to ‘odors.’”

[ 53 ] That is what is said there. That is, through effects that can be compared to smell. Mr. Dessoir feels compelled to say: “Even today, the clairvoyant perceives these states through a supersensory perception similar to smell.” [p. 258.]

[ 54 ] In other words, he translates what is clearly presented into a “sheet” and then criticizes his own “sheet.” Nor has it ever been said in my work that the Angeloi give rise to processes of nutrition and excretion on Saturn; rather, what is stated at that point is: “At the time when the Angeloi appear, processes of nutrition and excretion occur on Saturn.” Simultaneity is indicated here. The Angeloi appear, and the processes of nutrition and excretion occur. Dessoir himself adds the “through the Angeloi” part.

[ 55 ] You see, what is one even supposed to do with a person who attacks such a phenomenon in this way?

[ 56 ] “The Christ, or Sun Man, trained seven great teachers.” [p. 258.]

[ 57 ] So far, I have not found even a single clue to justify this designation: “the Christ or the Sun-Man,” because on page 242 it is explicitly stated that the Sun-Men perceive the Christ as the Higher Self—which is, of course, something entirely different from saying “the Christ or the Sun-Man.”

[ 58 ] Well, you see, these things sometimes border on the contrived. The superficiality then pushes right up against the limit of what is necessary to make an impression on the reader—an impression that, if intentional, would have to be called defamatory. Dessoir, for example, refers to the passage where I discuss how, during childhood, forces are at work preparing the brain; you need only recall my work *The Spiritual Guidance of Man and Humanity*, which Professor Dessoir has examined. I have described: When one later recalls how one could have accomplished all of this through one’s own intelligence—what later appears as a marvel in the brain—one realizes how wisdom works within a person from the unconscious right from the very first three years of childhood. Thus, Mr. Dessoir—pardon me, Max Dessoir, professor at the University of Berlin—quotes:

[ 59 ] “Especially a person who teaches wisdom himself—as Mr. Rudolf Steiner acknowledges—will say to himself: ‘When I was a child, I worked on myself through forces that acted upon me from the spiritual world, and what I can now offer as my very best must also be acting upon me from higher worlds; I must not regard it as belonging to my ordinary consciousness.’ [p. 260.]

[ 60 ] So Max Dessoir leads his readers to believe that I claimed all of this—everything said here—to be my own words. Let’s turn to *The Spiritual Guidance of Man and Humanity* to see where he got this from. On page 30, it says:

[ 61 ] “The concept of leadership thus derived can now be expanded in several respects. Suppose a person has found disciples—a few people who profess their allegiance to him. Through genuine self-knowledge, such a person will easily realize that it is precisely the fact that he has found followers that gives him the sense that what he has to say does not originate from him. Rather, it is the case that spiritual forces from higher worlds wish to communicate with the followers, and they find in the teacher the suitable instrument through which to reveal themselves.

[ 62 ] “Such a person will be struck by the thought,” and now comes the passage that Dessoir quotes:

[ 63 ] “When I was a child, I worked on myself through forces that acted upon me from the spiritual world, and what I can now give of my very best must also come from higher worlds: I must not regard it as belonging to my ordinary consciousness.” [p. 260.]

[ 64 ] This is where Dessoir’s quotation ends. And now I continue:

[ 65 ] “Yes, such a person may say: something demonic, something like a demon—but the word ‘demon’ taken in the sense of a benevolent spiritual power—acts through me from a spiritual world upon the believers. — That is what Socrates felt.” [p. 30.]

[ 66 ] So the entire passage refers to Socrates. Max Dessoir has shown a lack of taste—I’ll just say that, so as not to use a stronger word here—in twisting this passage in this way and then going on to say:

[ 67 ] “The fact, then, that the individual is a bearer of supra-individual truths is expanded here into the notion that a world of spirit, conceived as a physical entity, is connected to the individual, as it were, through tubes or wires; Hegel’s objective Spirit is transformed into a group of demons, and all the shadowy figures of an unrefined religious mindset reappear.” [p. 260.]

[ 68 ] Now one should read the chapter I wrote about Hegel in my *Riddles of Philosophy*, and then realize: when I speak here of demons, I am referring to Socrates, who himself used the word “daimonion.” As for Hegel, I myself stated explicitly and very clearly in *The Riddles of Philosophy* that one cannot use that term. But I will show you later why, in this particular case, Professor Dessoir, let’s say, can be so tactful. Such superficiality actually escalates into what amounts to outright slander, even if it is born of superficiality. But other feelings are mixed in there as well.

[ 69 ] If we delve into the conceptual aspects, I must say: one is truly amazed at what goes on inside the mind of such a contemporary professor. I explain that the first stage of supersensible knowledge is imaginative knowledge, which operates through images. Just as one gains sensory knowledge through concepts that appear shadowy and abstract, so one gains knowledge of the facts of the higher world through imaginative knowledge. Professor Dessoir then makes something of this—well, one isn’t quite sure what, because since he reads that knowledge is gained through symbols, he says: “The facts are symbols.” That is why he said earlier:

[ 70 ] “Ancient India is not present-day India; indeed, all geographical, astronomical, and historical terms should be understood symbolically.” [p. 258.]

[ 71 ] Now, one might even think that a reasonable person could get the impression from the presentation of “Esoteric Science”—even if today’s concept of India does not correspond to that of ancient India—that I meant ancient India should be understood merely symbolically. Because he has read that the first stage of knowledge—imaginative knowledge—is symbolic, he believes that ancient India, that is, the subject matter, is merely a symbol. The fact that he believes this, in turn, leads him to write the following on page 261:

[ 72 ] “This human being emerged in a distant past that Steiner calls the Lemurian Age of the Earth—I wonder why?—and in a land that was located between Australia and India at that time (which is therefore a specific geographical location and not a symbol).”

[ 73 ] So you see, Dessoir imagines that I meant the Lemurian land was a symbol, and now he criticizes me for presenting the matter in such a way that it is not a symbol; he finds this highly reprehensible. This is where the superficiality becomes downright silly. He thinks he’s being particularly witty when he concludes by saying:

[ 74 ] “These considerations are marred by contradictions and a certain logical frugality. It is contradictory to suggest that the facts of reality are said to have developed from circumstances that were merely ‘perceived’ and intended only ‘symbolically.’” [p. 263.]

[ 75 ] Since understanding operates through images, the facts themselves must also be pictorial; and he finds this to be a contradiction. So you think that when someone says a picture painted by an artist is just a picture, but then that person himself confuses the picture with reality and finds it contradictory that this picture is supposed to represent reality—or something like that. So, you come to find this superficiality downright foolish in a context like this.

[ 76 ] Well, you see, this is how anthroposophy is presented to the world today. Just imagine: this thick book, written by a university professor, is of course being discussed everywhere; people are naturally reading this chapter with particular fervor. They don’t care that the man has presented a caricature of anthroposophy, but will find that they might have to agree with the point the man is now making in the announcement he’s sending out to all the magazines—such bookstore advertisements usually come from people who aren’t entirely unrelated to the author. — The bookstore advertisement reads:

[ 77 ] “... The book then turns to the Kabbalistic mode of thought, which manifests itself not only in Kabbalah proper, but also in Freudian psychoanalysis, in the fruitless sophistry of certain interpreters of *Faust*, and in the Shakespeare-Bacon theory: all these offshoots of science are dissected and exposed in their hollowness. Just as thoroughly, but also just as relentlessly, the heresies of Guido von List and Rudolf Steiner are criticized; light is shed on the obscure, pretentious theories of faith healers and theosophists.”

[ 78 ] So, as you can see, this is standard scholarly practice today; this is the way officials today handle matters that are intended to serve the truth. But Mr. Max Dessoir’s superficiality sometimes really reaches new heights. For example, on page 254, he makes the following remark:

[ 79 ] “See Rudolf Steiner, *Outlines of Esoteric Science*, fifth edition, Leipzig 1913. In addition, I have drawn on a long series of other writings.”

[ 80 ] I have demonstrated—my work as a philologist allows me to do so—that Max Dessoir knows nothing other than “esoteric science,” “the spiritual guidance of man and humanity,” and “blood is a very special fluid.” That is all he knows. I can prove this from his essay. For example, he has not read *The Riddles of Philosophy*—to name just this one book. He does, however, refer to a long series of other writings. The “Secret Science” and the long series—that is: *The Spiritual Guidance* and *Blood Is a Very Special Juice*. Then he continues:

[ 81 ] “In Steiner’s debut work, *The Philosophy of Freedom* (Berlin, 1894), there are only the beginnings of his actual doctrine.” [p. 254, note]

[ 82 ] My first book! It was published in 1883. So this “first book” came out eleven years after my actual first book. That’s what happens these days! That’s how things go!

[ 83 ] Well, I will, of course, write a pamphlet about this chapter in the context of the entire book. Because that is necessary. The real issue here is to pin down a so-called cultural phenomenon—not merely to refute it sentence by sentence, but above all to expose its entire fragile superficiality, to show the man, using scholarly rigor, that he is incapable of adhering even to the simplest rules of proper decorum. One must not respond to this matter by simply taking it sentence by sentence, but by showing what the man makes of the matter in the first place. The whole thing is, in fact—I would say—written in the same style as the first few lines. I know, of course, that people will not find this offensive; he begins:

[ 84 ] “Dr. Rudolf Steiner is, after all, a remarkable man. He comes from Hungary, was born on February 27, 1861, and came to Weimar via Vienna.” [p. 254.]

[ 85 ] Well, I spent the first year and a half of my life in Hungary. I’m not originally from Hungary; I’m actually from Lower Austria—and, tracing my lineage back to its earliest roots, from a family of ancient German descent. I was only born in Hungary because my father was a civil servant on the Austrian Southern Railway, which ran from Wiener-Neustadt to Groß-Kanizsa—which at that time was still considered part of Cisleithania—and he was stationed there at a station on the Hungarian line, Kraljevec, where I happened to be born and lived until I was one and a half years old. But of course, the “Kürschner” states: “born in Hungary.” That is Mr. Max Dessoir’s source. I know that, naturally, those people who always side with those who act unscrupulously will say: Well, how is the man supposed to know otherwise if it’s in the Kürschner? The *Kürschner* does indeed list the place of birth; but it’s well known that a person can also come from somewhere other than where they happened to be born—which is very often the case nowadays, isn’t it, when people are shuffled about all over the place—only a German professor of philosophy doesn’t base his judgment on the most ordinary considerations. The other matters are worthy of consideration.

[ 86 ] But things sometimes get quite charming. You see, as I already said, he also knows that “blood is a very special fluid.” There you’ll find that I once really did describe with great caution how things were in earlier times, how blood, so to speak, had a deeper effect on memory, and the like. I did, however, not fail to state explicitly that it is difficult to describe these things, and that one must therefore often speak in relative terms. Of course, Max Dessoir omits this introduction and quotes the passage which—if you look it up in “Blood Is a Very Special Juice”—will show you the caution and the gradual transitions with which all of this is presented. But Max Dessoir quotes it as follows, because he believes this will have a particular impact on readers:

[ 87 ] “The astral body is said to ‘find its expression’ partly in the sympathetic nervous system, partly in the spinal cord and brain.” [p. 261.]

[ 88 ] Now he quotes this from my work:

[ 89 ] “The blood absorbs the images of the external world that have been internalized by the brain.”

[ 90 ] “Such a flagrant disregard for all the facts goes hand in hand with the assertion—as unprovable as it is incomprehensible—that prehistoric man, in the ‘images conceived by his blood,’ also recalled the experiences of his ancestors.” [p. 261.]

[ 91 ] One simply must not condense something that has been presented with the utmost care into a single sentence in such a way that it makes no sense, thereby pulling the reader’s leg. But in this case, the pranks are particularly bad because they portray the matter in a defamatory light. But what exactly is the good Dessoir quoting here? Nothing other than the idea that humans experienced what they had inherited from their ancestors as a kind of memory within the earlier, different circumstances of kinship. Max Dessoir finds this particularly troubling. Now, however, I would like to highlight one of Dessoir’s own views; it is, in fact, highly interesting. There he explains how it is that ancient beliefs still persist today—beliefs such as those held by superstitious people in the countryside, by faith healers, or by Guido von List and the anthroposophists. He seeks to explain where this comes from. He says:

[ 92 ] “Even from such examples, one can conclude that ancient forms of thought live on in secret research. Of course, this ‘residual theory’ does not yet provide a concise refutation of occultism, since the truth might have been grasped in the early stages of human civilization and lost to our cultural sphere. But the facts cited in its support fall short, and the memory of those primordial human ideas is meant to explain why we, the people of the present, nevertheless find it so difficult to break free from them. The blood of many millennia flows through our veins. Its pulse is not always regular, but sometimes becomes arrhythmic, just as it once was.” [p. 11f.]

[ 93 ] According to Max Dessoir. So, when it is stated in anthroposophy in a very clear and explainable way that “the blood of our ancestors flows within us and represents a kind of memory”—then it is ridiculed; but when he needs it himself, he cites it himself. This is Max Dessoir, professor of philosophy at the University of Berlin.

[ 94 ] Well, a particularly curious book that I have always rejected—and anyone familiar with my writings on Goethe knows that I have rejected it—is the book by F. A. Louvier: “Sphinx locuta est,” in which Goethe’s “Faust” is explained in a Kabbalistic manner. It is a terrible book. But Dessoir begins by addressing Kabbalah. What he says about Kabbalah would take us too far afield, for he really understands nothing about it; but he then cites modern Kabbalah, including Louvier’s *Sphinx locuta est*, which contains such beautiful things. Isn’t that right? Now he can once again lick his fingers:

[ 95 ] “It should be evident from many passages that the spiritual powers appear as allegorical characters. The Earth Spirit—in truth, of course, one of the work’s most enigmatic figures—is the spirit of the Faustian plan (for “Earth” stands for “plane” or “plan”) and, as such, abstraction; Gretchen is naivety; the black poodle is the negative proof, and so on. Let us now consider the scene “before the gate” (Sphinx locuta est, p. 122ff.). If Faust symbolizes the speculating intellect, then his dwelling place is the head. Accordingly, the city signifies the brain, the hollow, gloomy gate the mouth, and the passersby of all kinds are the audible expressions of the spirit that flow out from there into the open. Language itself does not appear here, because it is described in detail in the second part as the “herald’s staff.” What do appear, however, are the poems, specifically in the form of soldiers: castles (the seat of thoughts) and maidens (feelings) must surrender to the poem; the trumpets (the sounds) of the poems court both joy and ruin.... The town girl (Agathe) introduces the folk song, and the beloved, who is to unite with the folk song—that is, one of the soldiers—is a poem; for text and song form a pair... Alongside the folk song (Agathe), a “student”—that is, the student song, called Krauskopf—also appears, and with him a second student—the song’s refrain... In addition to the characters discussed, the following audible utterances emerge from the gate (the mouth). These are: the request, the twisting of words, the chatter, the consent, the quarrel, the command, the question, the flattery, the “yes,” the promise, and the apology.” [p. 222 ff.]

[ 96 ] This allows him to poke fun at Louvier, who, after all, finds the entire Kantian philosophy depicted in *Faust*. He then moves on to Edwin Bormann’s *honorificabili* and the Shakespeare-Bacon scholars; he demonstrates how nonsensical everything is that the Shakespeare-Bacon scholars have done in a Kabbalistic manner; he then moves on to Stefan George, where he has the good taste to quote three poems to characterize Stefan George. We won’t go into all of that—it would take an hour to explain the full intricacy of Max Dessoir’s work to you—but we do want to address the one instance where he juxtaposes three poems. I’ll read the first poem he presents—the second one—aloud first. You don’t have to agree with such poetry, but I want to illustrate Max Dessoir’s method to you. So please, don’t take this to mean that I agree with this poem, which is by Werfel, but that’s not the point:

A dreamy, light sky above the village!
You know of the seaside resorts’ golden shreds.
You know of princes
And the autumnal hunt.
You, trees of my boyhood
Shake from your shoulders
The last net,
The brown one.
Cast your shadow upon me,
Here I sit
And read the exuberant
Name carved in stone.
Now you are with my grandmother, child,
O subterranean feast,
That no one wants to think of! [p. 234.)

[ 97 ] As I said, one might have some reservations about this poem, but Dessoir has good taste and pairs it with the following poem. So this is the first one I’d like to cite now:

The pale nobleman’s son speaks:
O darkness, from which I come—
I believe in everything that has never been said,
I am too alone in this world, and yet not alone enough.
You see, I want so much!
We build upon you with trembling hands. [p. 234.]

[ 98 ] So that is one poem; next comes Werfel’s poem, and then the third; I’d like to read that one now as well:

Perhaps I walk through rugged mountains
You, the mountain that remained when the ranges arose,
Make me the guardian of your vast expanses,
For, Lord, the great cities are:
There live people, pale as white blossoms,
O Lord, grant each one his own death!
Lord, we are poorer than the poor animals,
Make one glorious, Lord, make one great
Let the final sign come upon us. [p. 235.]

[ 99 ] The middle poem, which I read first, is indeed by Werfel; but to characterize it, Dessoir takes the tasteful approach of selecting a volume of Rilke’s poems—not copying these Rilke poems themselves, but rather the opening lines of each, as listed in the table of contents. So he creates poems by compiling these opening lines; and he then compares them to Werfel’s poem. That is the tasteful way in which he attempts to characterize modern poetry. He means to say: Werfel’s poem also emerges when one writes down the first lines of the verses in Rilke’s *Book of Hours* one after another—and he turns that into a poem. That is how he does it.

[ 100 ] Then he introduces Guido von List’s racial mysticism. I have no connection to Guido von List other than that I once received a treatise from him—whom I knew when he was still a reasonable person and had written his novel *Carnuntum*—in the early 1980s, at a time when I was still publishing *Luzifer-Gnosis*; I sent it back as amateurish and useless. That is the only connection I have ever had with Guido von List.

[ 101 ] Then Dessoir discusses Christian Science. You know how much of a connection I have to Christian Science. The only connection I have to Christian Science—I can read it to you, more or less. Whenever I’ve been asked to give public lectures on this Christian Science, the first thing I’ve always said is that matter really does exist. But I have said that this Christian Science should not be called “Christian,” for the following reasons:

[ 102 ] “Here it becomes clear that this entire doctrine is incompatible with the spirit of Christianity. A doctrine that seeks to rationalize away suffering from the world must not claim to be based on the Gospel. For Christianity has proclaimed with the utmost seriousness the truth that sin and suffering are an essential part of human nature; they are not figments of imperfect human thought, but realities to which God’s mercy and the sacrificial death of Jesus are directed. ‘Christian Science’ must not call itself Christian.” [p. 243.]

[ 103 ] I've always said that; it's just that here, Dessoir is the one saying it. I've just read you a passage from Dessoir; but you know that I've characterized Christian Science in exactly that way whenever I was asked about it after public lectures.

[ 104 ] He then characterizes the Theosophical Movement as “New Buddhism.” But given the way Professor Dessoir keeps recounting in this book that he has attended all sorts of spiritualist séances, I could just as easily write a book on spiritualism and dedicate a chapter to Max Dessoir, placing it right next to Max Dessoir. For that could be done with just as much justification as he uses here to link anthroposophy to “theosophy,” especially when he quotes that tasteful sentence:

[ 105 ] “These secret researchers, who belong to the ‘Universal Brotherhood,’ vehemently oppose the ‘fashionable or pseudo-theosophists,’ by which they mean the anthroposophists gathered around their master Rudolf Steiner. However, we do not want to let this deter us from also examining this movement.” [p. 253.]

[ 106 ] The unscrupulousness is also evident in the very way this is inserted among all sorts of things where it does not belong; this must be explicitly stated.

[ 107 ] But no matter where you open the book, you'll find the same thing everywhere. Look, page 240:

[ 108 ] “There is a danger that such groups can exert influence, especially in these troubled times. Still, it is some consolation that they despise and fight one another: the racial mystics, the faith healers, the theosophists.”

[ 109 ] Well, my dear friends, let me ask you this: Have I ever fought anyone when it wasn’t necessary—simply because they were fighting me? That is the dishonesty that is always employed. See for yourselves whether I have ever opposed any of the people listed here. I have not opposed racial mysticism because I consider it rather silly and do not find it worth the effort to oppose it. Regarding the faith healers, I have said only the two sentences that I just quoted to you.

[ 110 ] Yes, there’s a special story behind Dessoir. He’s now recounting all the things he experienced at various spiritualist séances. Well, I can’t go into that today, because the whole thing amounts to nothing more than—at best—Dessoir finding himself in a position to write a book about it, since it’s really nothing more than a pursuit of all sorts of sensationalism and the like. But I ask myself: How does a person end up writing such a book, which is actually crazy? Because really, if you go through the other chapters, you come to a most sad conclusion. The man writes about all sorts of things without having any expert knowledge whatsoever—knowledge that an expert must possess in every aspect of his field. I would like to know whether a philosopher like Max Dessoir is allowed to write a sentence like this today:

[ 111 ] “A person of broad intellectual and musical education is able, during an opera performance, to simultaneously grasp the libretto, the music—which is itself highly complex—and the acting, even though these three elements can be quite independent of one another.” [p. 35.]

[ 112 ] Yes, anyone who has even just studied Aristotle—the interplay of sensory impressions in the unified human being—cannot afford such a tangle of sentences! So today one is led to conclude that such a person is a university professor in a particular field and yet may not have read or studied even the most basic aspects of that field. It is truly outrageous.

[ 113 ] I will refute this matter completely objectively—of course, we had to discuss this among ourselves at some point— but I will point out the facts objectively, without resorting to the harsh words I’ve used here today, to see if there are still people today who, once confronted with the facts, can at least be outraged by such a cultural phenomenon. That is precisely what I would like to test. One wonders: how is this possible? Indeed, on page 34 one comes across such a strange thing. There he talks about something like consciousness, how there is a “periphery of consciousness,” well, and a “surface” of consciousness; such a person wants to have a picture, doesn’t he? He says:

[ 114 ] “To use another easily understandable image: from the center of the circle”—he means the circle of consciousness—“a complex drifts toward the periphery, but does not sink there into obscurity; rather, it partially retains its definiteness and coherence. An example: When presenting very familiar lines of thought, concepts and words occasionally drift into that region for me, and my attention turns to other things. Nevertheless, I continue speaking, so to speak, without any conscious involvement. It has happened that I was surprised by a sudden silence in the hall, and it had to be pointed out to me that it was the result of my own falling silent! Familiar associations of ideas and judgments can thus also be carried out “subconsciously,” especially those that deal with the abstract; the associated speech patterns likewise proceed without difficulty along well-rehearsed paths.” [p. 34.]

[ 115 ] Well, I’d like to know—I don’t think it’s ever happened to me, even in this circle here, that I’ve talked on and on like that without really being present, without being focused on the matter at hand. It’s actually a strange self-revelation, and one wonders whom this passage refers to. I don’t want to imply that, though—but it isn’t explicitly stated that it refers to anyone else; so it seems to refer to him himself, that he sometimes gives lectures without really being present in the moment. Then one might also think that he continues writing page after page without really being present in the moment. That would certainly explain a lot. But the whole book is such that he must actually have written it with his consciousness dimmed—and that, in turn, is too much to take in all at once; one might assume that this Professor Max Dessoir wrote the book in a kind of trance and that the trance had produced a superficiality bordering on perfidy.

[ 116 ] But one does have such strange experiences. And if today we are called upon to place ourselves in the present through a spiritual movement, then there are truly things that are not so easy—nor are they easy to take in. That is why it was necessary for me to have engaged you a little with these two things today. On the one hand, I wanted to briefly describe to you how a person who attempts to take just a few steps along the path I have outlined is moving entirely in the spirit of anthroposophy, and how, when this anthroposophy itself comes to the fore, it is treated by those who are currently tasked—officially and by authority—with teaching philosophical science and are therefore taken seriously. Well, it will certainly prevail in its own right; but it had to become quite clear to us that, in a man like Max Dessoir, we are dealing with a superficial and, fundamentally speaking, ridiculous personality.

[ 117 ] I hope that next time we can delve even deeper into our reflections, of which this was meant to be just one episode.