The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Sixteenth Lecture

[ 1 ] The points I am now presenting in this final lecture—which may seem somewhat prosaic compared to the grand perspectives we have explored in these reflections—nevertheless have a certain inner connection to our entire line of thought and also to the present time. And in a certain sense, I felt a need—even if these matters can only be addressed in aphoristic form, once again in the form of remarks, perhaps even without further context (otherwise we would have to talk about the topic for days on end)—to discuss certain things with you. Just as we attempted to gain insight into the period that culminated in the 8th century with a few remarks, let us now consider the subsequent period, which in a certain sense culminated in European life in the 15th century.

[ 2 ] This 15th century is extraordinarily interesting to examine in a wide variety of respects, particularly in light of the conditions of life in Europe during the preceding centuries. This century is significant because it was not until the 15th century that the conditions in Europe within which we currently live actually took shape. People tend to think—as we have often mentioned from other perspectives—in the short term; they imagine that the way they experience the conditions around them is a constant. But it is not. The conditions of life are subject to metamorphosis. And if one does not—as, unfortunately, is often done as nonsense in modern history—view everything from the perspective of the present, but rather attempts to immerse oneself in the unique character of earlier times—which can only be done through the humanities, and in practical terms, specifically through the humanities—then one comes to realize that the times have already changed quite significantly. I believe I have already mentioned in the course of these lectures that recently, when I brought up something similar in a lecture, a gentleman said to me at the end: “Yes, but spiritual science assumes that these epochs, as they developed, were different from one another; and history shows us, after all, that people have actually always been the same, that they have always had the same vices, the same jealousies, and so on, that people have not changed significantly; what causes conflict today also caused conflicts in the past.” — I replied to the gentleman at the time: You can take this line of thought even further; you can simply take certain very striking sources of conflict in the present and look for them among the Greek gods—who certainly have very different conditions of existence than any earthly human beings—and you will find that the very things on which you are now focusing your attention can even be found among the Greek gods.

[ 3 ] Of course, if one considers these matters abstractly, one finds certain human relationships that have been the same everywhere. In fact, there are currently even some scientific studies that find very similar relationships—family relationships and the like—in various animal species. And why not? If one applies sufficient abstraction, one will indeed discover such similarities. But that is not the point. With such an approach, one is, in the truest sense of the word, impractical.

[ 4 ] Above all, people today—and truly not just those in broader circles, but precisely influential, very, very influential circles—view the current state of national relations in Europe and, indeed, throughout the educated world as if these national relations were eternal. These are not eternal things; rather, precisely that form of sentiment that arises, for example, from the national in today’s people is entirely dependent on what developed in the 15th century, for before that, Europe was something entirely different, particularly with regard to these matters. What we see today as national entities—which have crystallized into states—dates back only to the fifteenth century. And what existed in Europe before that cannot be compared at all to these national entities of today. A historical examination of the past should teach people precisely this.

[ 5 ] However, if the past does not extend beyond the 15th century, then it could well happen that someone expresses the judgments that can be drawn about the present as if they were eternal conditions. If, for example, a political entity—the likes of which did not exist in Europe before the 15th century—could only have been established according to European ideals on a territory that only became known to Europe after the 15th century—and thus does not have a past in the same sense as Europe, where people think only in terms of a few centuries and then regard that thinking as representing eternal conditions—if one were to use such thinking to devise ideas of the state or even ideas of nations, then at the very least Europeans would have to realize that such ideas of nations are bound to be short-lived.

[ 6 ] In the 15th century, something else occurred that is connected to what I had to mention regarding the beginnings of Christian development in Europe, particularly in the vast Roman Empire. I pointed out at the time that the Roman Empire had met its downfall due to various forces, but among those forces one must also count the fact that an incredibly massive outflow of gold to the East had taken place, leaving the vast Roman Empire depleted of gold—deplated of gold. This did not benefit the Romans, who were accustomed to—and indeed had to—use gold in the institutions of their empire, and now they simply had none. This led to decadence.

[ 7 ] This, however, worked to the advantage of the peoples sweeping in from the north. Due to the various circumstances we mentioned last time, they were organized precisely around a direct subsistence economy. And what is remarkable is that—even though certain conquerors, whom we have already discussed, overran the lands that had previously enjoyed peace—a certain degree of sedentariness emerged from the coexistence of the conquered peoples and the conquerors. Those who were already in Europe loved their land in a certain sense, and those who had been drawn there sought out a piece of land for themselves. And so, from that event, which is commonly called the Migration Period, there emerged what might be called living conditions favorable to a subsistence economy as opposed to a monetary economy.

[ 8 ] Europe had gradually reached a point where the Carolingians were forced to take into account the need to organize conditions in such a way that, to a certain extent, they could do without a generous circulation of money. The Carolingians—and indeed the Merovingians as well—these ruling dynasties often represented, in the inner workings of events, nothing more—if one is to view it objectively—than what one might call the hour and minute hands of a clock. After all, we are convinced, aren’t we, that it is not the hour and minute hands that compel us to do this or that, and yet we do it; or when we recount an event, we say: “I did that at twelve o’clock or at one o’clock.” — So, in historical narration, it all comes down to the intention one associates with it. When I say this, I mean the time period and the living conditions of that time. But one must be aware that a man like Charlemagne, simply by virtue of his personality and his public presence in Europe, was significant; for things are concretely different. Louis the Pious, of course, meant nothing more than that. And when playwrights come along who embellish Louis the Pious’s family squabbles as if they were grand affairs of state, that is nonsense that may interest childish minds sitting in the theater; but it has nothing to do with any kind of “history” and is worlds apart from any real history.

[ 9 ] The situation is different when one considers the dominant figure of Charlemagne and then sets aside—for the moment—the lesser figures who came after him; sometimes they are, after all, already strangely characterized by the epithets popular in such circles; history offers some peculiar epithets here: “the Simple-Minded One,” “the Fat One”—which, you’ll agree, don’t exactly seem significant for events that shaped world history. But a certain tone, a certain tendency, was indeed present in the Carolingian era, and this tendency had a much broader impact than perhaps any tendency associated with a single individual has had since the 15th century. After all, the Middle Ages were a time when the individual still held far greater value and significance than he did later on. Now, these Carolingians had to reckon with the fact that, out of the conglomeration of the Migration Period, a settled population had gradually emerged across Europe. This settled way of life—which found particularly characteristic expression among the Saxons in Central Europe and their descendants who later crossed over to England and the British Isles—was a general trait of the Germanic peoples—I mean during this period, the Carolingian era, after the Migration Period had subsided. A sedentary way of life, combined with a dependence on what was produced directly from the land—that is, a peasant population administered by the count in the manner I recently explained, administered by the clergy, and a population in the vicinity of the cities, administered by the bishoprics in those cities; but a population that, in terms of agricultural production and in terms of craft production, was sedentary and attached to the place with which it was associated, because their living conditions bound them to that place. Certainly, commercial relations were already beginning to develop, but these were more concentrated in the coastal regions. In the regions that are of primary importance for medieval life, the population was sedentary. And the consequence of this was that it was not possible to govern or administer in the manner to which one had become accustomed in the Roman Empire. Admittedly, they had traditionally adopted practices—learned from educated people who knew what was customary in the Roman Empire—such as doing this or that, or administering matters in such-and-such a way as was done in the Roman Empire, and this had proven to be correct. But this was not applicable to the conditions that had emerged throughout Europe. It was not applicable because the entire Roman Empire, once it had reached a certain size, was in fact built upon the military system of the Roman Empire, upon the war machine of the Roman Empire. The Roman Empire is inconceivable on such a scale without the ability to send soldiers everywhere, even to the periphery. The soldiers had to be paid.

[ 10 ] I already mentioned last time that the circulation of gold was necessary for this. And when the circulation of gold slowed down, it was no longer possible. And as these conditions took shape—as an empire emerged that was entirely dependent on the military for its internal stability, its potential for internal expansion, and its ability to govern itself—all perspectives developed in such a way that everything in these perspectives was built upon the military. So one could have said during the Carolingian period: I’ll hire someone who is familiar with the administrative techniques and legal systems of the Roman Empire. — For that had remained with them. But it was of little help, because the administrative methods based on the legionary system could not be applied where they were supposed to be applied—across all of Europe and now even into Italy, since these conditions had developed everywhere—where one was dealing with settled farmers. For at that moment, if the peasants—or those who had initially settled as landowners and were merely large-scale farmers—had been forced to form legions, as was the case in the Roman Empire, their very means of livelihood would have been taken away from them. Under the monetary economy that existed in the Roman Empire, legions could be sent anywhere. But conditions within Europe had gradually developed in such a way that, if one had wanted to do things exactly as in the Roman Empire—if the farmer had been required to go to war, or if the landowner, as a count, had been to lead the farmers into battle—they would have had to carry all their fields on their backs—which, as is well known, is impossible.

[ 11 ] Since there was a need for mobility among the peoples, this meant that something entirely different had to gradually emerge—an element that was not like the legionary system of the Roman Empire. And this element that emerged came about in the following way. It came about in this way—I am now speaking of the centuries that followed the Carolingian era, for what I am describing took place over the course of centuries—that gradually, individual landowners began to attract people who entered their specific service and became dependent on them. These were mostly people who had become surplus in the vast realm of the subsistence economy. And these people, who were surplus in the realm of the subsistence economy, could be rallied around one’s side when one wished to undertake military campaigns and expeditions. These people—who were either surplus due to overpopulation here or there, or who were surplus because they had others do their work for them—were the very people from whom, gradually throughout all of Europe, the class that has been described since the Middle Ages as the knighthood was recruited; The knighthood—essentially what one might call “elite warriors,” people who made war their craft, who thus carried out what they did in the service of this or that lord for the sake of that craft. With the emergence of the knighthood, a distinct class of warriors developed simultaneously, becoming a distinct social class throughout Europe.

[ 12 ] And this gave rise to something other than a mere necessary consequence: it meant that, in a sense, two spheres of interest existed. If one does not grasp these two spheres of interest, one cannot understand the Middle Ages. There were the broad spheres of interest of those who were, in fact, utterly indifferent to whether these knights or their leaders undertook this or that; they wanted nothing more than to cultivate their land and conduct their trade and practice their crafts in the immediate vicinity. This interest gradually gave rise to a mindset in Europe that had not yet existed at the time of the Migration Period, a mindset that later emerged particularly in the urban crafts: the bourgeois mindset. This mindset spread within one segment of the population, while the chivalric mindset—which was based on the concept of the elite warrior—developed in parallel, but entirely alongside the other mindset.

[ 13 ] You have thus provided an example—if one looks at world history correctly, one finds such things everywhere, just in different forms—but you have given an example of how different social classes emerge from certain concrete necessities that arise over time. But this gave rise to a discrepancy. Those who gradually rose to prominence as a result of the circumstances—you see, I cannot recount everything; I can only offer aphoristic remarks—rose from the position of landowners by gradually bringing their surroundings under their control. The entire nature of the Merovingians came about in no other way than by great landowners casting their nets wider and making more people dependent on them; for when we speak today in history of a Merovingian “state,” it is, by comparison, nothing but a sham! What we call a state today did not begin until after the 15th century.

[ 14 ] The Merovingians, who were on the rise, initially had to contend, so to speak, only with the people who had joined them in this way—as a chivalric class, so to speak, as the surplus population—and who shared in their adventures, and because the territory was, after all, shared, they constantly found themselves either pitted against other interest groups or had them alongside them in such a way that they did not really know what to make of them. There can be no question of any real comprehensive control—such as a state administration that intervenes in all aspects of life—at that time. When one speaks of princes in that era, these princes essentially had influence only over those who had joined them. The man who sat on his patch of land regarded himself as the independent master of that land and—if I may use the colloquial expression—couldn’t care less about anyone who wanted to rule alongside him. He does as he pleases.

[ 15 ] When looking back at the time of Louis the Pious, one must not interpret history today as if what is attributed to him as the “Empire” were to be regarded as having stood in such a relationship to his rule—so to speak—as a state stands to its government today. That is not the case at all. These matters must be considered in concrete terms. And so one can say that there emerged constant, diverse, and highly differentiated spheres of interest. This must be taken into account in a very special way, because the historical life of the Middle Ages as a whole emerges from these very factors.

[ 16 ] Now I said: The 15th century is remarkable for the reason that, in the 15th century, gold gradually reappeared in Europe—namely through the natural development of mines and the like, and later through voyages of discovery; so that, beginning in the 15th century, conditions arose that were fundamentally different from those that preceded them simply because gold had reappeared. And this 15th century—which we might also call the Age of Christian Rosenkreutz—is therefore the period through which Europe once again sailed into the monetary economy. There is also a major turning point in this regard. The final period of the fourth post-Atlantean epoch in Europe was a cashless one, characterized by a subsistence economy. This is what we must bear in mind. And now, during this time, through all the cracks in what I have described, something developed that—beginning in the 15th century—gradually brought about conditions such that we can now speak of compact nationalities, separated into states.

[ 17 ] To speak of such a contrast between Germans and French—as one has been able to do since the 15th century—is entirely impossible, and even meaningless, for the period prior to the 15th century. What might be called the French nation had only just begun to take shape, very slowly and gradually. Certainly, the Franks were distinct from the Saxons; but the Frankish character was no more different from the Saxon one than I described last time. These were tribal differences, not ethnic or even national differences—no greater differences than those that exist today, for example, between Prussia and Bavaria, and perhaps even a smaller difference in many respects.

[ 18 ] Everything that developed there, however, is still connected to the conditions we have just described. For what later became the French monarchy truly emerged from landowning conditions. And the major difference between the formation of the cohesive French nation and the so-called German nation in the heart of Europe—which was open in every direction—lies essentially in the fact that the French members of the Merovingian, Carolingian, and other dynasties were initially able to smooth over the differences between themselves and others more easily due to their tribal character; they got along more easily with the opposing elements. For from all that I have described, it became clear that, at first, the people who were settled on the land—the sedentary population in general—were unwilling to go along with anything; nowhere did they salute the Gessler hat. This was already the custom throughout Europe: nowhere did they salute the Gessler hat.

[ 19 ] But even those who had become knights gradually sought to settle down here and there once again. Naturally, after initially attaining a certain position under the protection of this or that feudal lord—that is, prince—they were, little by little, very inclined to become independent once more. Why shouldn’t one be just as powerful as the one under whose protection one had become powerful?

[ 20 ] But this meant that anyone who acted as a sort of ruler soon had to contend with rebellious elements. And the period of the 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th centuries essentially unfolded as a continuous struggle between these opposing forces and those who sought to control them. What had emerged as a result of the Migration Period could not be easily or quickly reduced to any abstract form.

[ 21 ] Maan now asks himself: How is it, in fact, that a cohesive national identity was able to emerge relatively early in the region that later became France? For the historian, this is, in a certain sense, a kind of puzzle that immediately presents itself, and one must attempt to solve such a puzzle. For the general saying—that nations emerge in this or that way—is not sufficient. In every corner of the earth, what constitutes a nation—even if it is later given the same name—develops in a different way. One wonders: How did this compact French nation come to form, from the Merovingian period through the 15th century?

[ 22 ] However, this is still connected to somewhat earlier circumstances. Even when the Roman Empire was still powerful, residents and prominent figures of the Roman Empire were sent not so much to Central Germany as to what would later become France. The western regions of Europe were actually very, very heavily permeated with Roman elements as early as the time of the Roman Empire. And as I said, many things seeped in through the cracks in these circumstances. Everything else in present-day France has essentially remained the same over the centuries, but this is different: intermingled among the rest of the population were many Roman elements—Roman figures with Roman views, Roman interests, and Roman inclinations—remnants of the old Roman Empire. And, one might say, Christianity had gradually spread across Europe on the wings of the old Roman Empire.

[ 23 ] Christianity came to France along with Roman culture, just as it had taken root in the Roman Empire itself. And so it was to a certain extent advantageous in this region for those who wished to rule to adhere to what remained of Roman tradition. For the settled people and the knights all possessed a certain character that, when others of a different disposition were present, made them seem ill-suited for administration and governance. If, as in Central Europe, there had long been no one but such people, then naturally one had to make use of them. Isn’t that right? That’s just how it was done in Central Europe: People from a certain region would come together through purely verbal agreements, and from time to time they would hold what was called a “thing.” And there, guided by ideas that all stemmed from the atavistic Hellschen tradition, they discussed how to punish one person or another who had committed some misdeed. This was agreed upon orally, and it was actually quite common throughout Central Europe to settle such matters verbally. Little was written down, because settled farmers and knights had the peculiarity that, in any case, none of them could read or write. You may know that Wolfram von Eschenbach, the famous medieval poet, could neither read nor write a single letter. The Romance-speaking peoples who had flooded into Western Europe, however, could do so. They were also, in the sense we use the term today, educated people. The consequence of this was that, naturally, those who wished to rule made use of these “educated” people, aside from the fact that the clergy were, of course, primarily drawn from this class. This, in turn, led to the connection between the administrative bureaucracy and the clergy, which consisted largely of the Romanic elements that had flooded in.

[ 24 ] But with this, and at the same time with the Church—which had thus made its way in from the Romance world—it came to pass that the linguistic element began to play an immense role. And the mystery I have alluded to can only be solved by forming a conception of the immense suggestive power of language. With the language that evolved from Romance in Western Europe—yet retained the Romance character, if I may put it that way—it was not merely a language but an entire spirit that was transmitted. For a spirit lives within language with immense evocative power. And this spirit had an overwhelming effect. And the arrival of the Romance spirit on the wings of the Romance language took place from the Carolingian period well into the 15th century.

[ 25 ] And here is where the peculiarity comes in: Western Europe is now quite different from the conditions in Central Europe. In Western Europe, the process is complete—the language, which gradually developed from a Romance element, has had a suggestive effect on people’s souls, as if rising from below. What lay in the broad folk tradition—in what I have just described as the settled peasantry, this settled peasantry with its ancient, atavistic clairvoyance —even if these people had become Christians—with their transmission not of faith but of a direct perception of what existed in the spiritual worlds—this did not come to the fore at all for the people who ruled or administered from above. But an upper class formed precisely in Western Europe, which, through the formation of language, exerted a suggestive influence that also worked downward. We need not consider this upper class in terms of how it administered or what legal and administrative conditions emerged there; but we must nevertheless regard it as the class of officials, the linguistic class, that introduced language into the lower classes and, along with the language, the entire suggestive element that spread uniformly across a certain territory before the people from below reacted against what had formed as the ruling class. For up until the 15th century, we see what had formed as the ruling class engaging in its various manipulations; and those at the bottom pay no attention to it for so long, remaining free, until clashes finally arise. The ruling class, after all, has a tendency to draw more and more power to itself, doesn’t it? By the time the country had reached the point where the peasantry—the original folk—fought back, the linguistic element, with its suggestive power, had already been vigorously at work. And you can find it particularly striking in Western Europe, seeing how the broad masses of the people, who were still steeped in their old spirituality—their atavistic spirituality—reacted.

[ 26 ] The messenger, the spirit of this mass of people—that is the Maid of Orleans. With the appearance of the Maid of Orleans comes what—after language has taken effect through its suggestive power—is only then the reaction of the folk from below, forcing the French monarchy to reckon with the people. You see, up until the 15th century, up until the appearance of the Maid of Orleans—who actually made France what it is—there was a Romanic influx, followed by the emergence of the folk messenger. Thus, even in this manner of the folk’s emergence through the transformative power of Joan of Arc, it becomes evident how that which naturally lived everywhere within this folk reacts upward and only then actually becomes “history” for external history.

[ 27 ] Such Maidens of Orleans—that is, not endowed with the power of action, but with the power of vision—have existed throughout Europe over the centuries. And the foundation upon which the Maid of Orleans built was precisely that element widespread among the peasantry and the masses of the people. In the Virgin, it simply came to the surface. One does not describe it to the people. One must codify Louis the Fool—no, the Pious—and his advisors and all that stuff found in the chronicles, which they have compiled, as “history,” and must make it appear to the people as if these great landowners had been administrators of states and the like. But that is, after all, outside of real, concrete life. Real, concrete life, however, was permeated—history says nothing of this—but it was permeated by what then came to the surface in the genius of the Maid of Orleans and what entered into the French spirit at a time when the suggestive power of language was being exercised. And through this, what was the power of the people flooded into the French spirit from below. That is how it came about.

[ 28 ] This was not the case in Central Europe. There, no single language exerted such suggestive power. All other conditions were similar, but there was nothing that united a larger group of tribes into a national force through the suggestive power of language. Consequently, what exists in Central Europe remains, in national terms, a fluid mass—and, strangely enough, one that lends itself easily to colonization. But the colonization carried out with the population of Central Europe is different from that of today. When people colonize today, the primary aim is, of course, to acquire foreign territories. But back then, people were sent to foreign regions—and the colonizers were indeed called upon in large numbers—and whatever they understood of their homeland, they carried with them into those foreign regions.

[ 29 ] This is how things were handled in Eastern Europe to the greatest extent. But it remained a fluid mass. And while the suggestive power of language was at work above all in the West, Central Europe was still plagued by the squabbles, the bickering, the divergent interests I have described—acts of insubordination directed primarily against those who sought to rule—which meant that, unlike in the West, a far-reaching, uniform national identity could not take shape. There was nothing there comparable to the suggestive power of language. Consequently, the earlier conditions often led to the rise of whoever happened to be the stronger party under those circumstances. Hence the territorial principalities, which persisted even beyond the 15th century and which essentially arose because there was no such suggestive power as the power of language in the West.

[ 30 ] With all these circumstances—which I can truly describe to you only very imperfectly at this time—the other element, which now truly understood to some extent that it had to reckon with them, had to take them into account: the ecclesiastical element that gradually emerged in Rome from the fallen Roman Empire. In occult circles, this ecclesiastical element is called the “gray shadow of the Roman Empire,” because it adopted the entire mindset regarding administration and the like from the Roman Empire, but applied it to ecclesiastical circumstances. The Church’s endeavor had to be directed toward integrating itself, in a differentiated way, into what was taking shape in Europe. And I have already hinted at this to some extent—how people in Rome knew how to anticipate developments. From the 9th century through the end of the 10th century and into the early 11th century, they were exceptionally adept at navigating these circumstances, as Rome was essentially striving to impose what was then called Christianity in an administrative form upon all these circumstances. If it was possible anywhere to transform a town into a bishopric, they did so; if there was a farming community they wanted to win over, they built a church there so that the people would gather around it; if there was a landowner, they gradually tried to replace him with a clergyman by educating his son or similar means. The Church exploited every situation. And indeed: never again would the Church, as it was during these centuries, be in such a position to become a universal European power. This process—the way the Church operated in the 9th, 10th, and 11th centuries—is immensely significant because it truly involves taking all concrete circumstances into account. One need only consider this.

[ 31 ] The people who were leading Catholic clergy or priests at that time were not so foolish as to believe that the spirits people spoke of in their atavistic clairvoyance were not spirits; they reckoned that these were real forces, but they sought the appropriate means to combat them. While the princes were by no means able to deal with them, the Church was gradually able to provide these concepts—which were entirely justified from its perspective—with a proper nomenclature. After all, in Rome they knew full well: The beings described by atavistic clairvoyance are not all devils; but these demons are our adversaries, and we must fight them.

[ 32 ] One tactic was to brand them as devils—that is, to label them with such a term. This was a very real battle against the spiritual world that was waged at that time, and it was not until the 15th century that people lost awareness of the active spiritual forces. The strength of the spreading ecclesiastical Christianity lay in the fact that people knew how to truly reckon with what is real: with the spiritual powers. And by the 11th and 12th centuries, this process had actually been completed to a certain extent.

[ 33 ] You will only be able to properly assess the history of the Middle Ages if you bear in mind that all the ecclesiastical arts—which were effectively employed and were great and significant arts— were actually developed within the Church from the 9th century onward, when—for example, under Pope Nicholas I—it became evident just how much reliance was placed on spiritual powers, and how one had to take into account all that the people knew through atavistic clairvoyance. And the art of working in the spirit is what truly made the Church great. But by the 11th and 12th centuries, these arts had run their course. Certainly, the old ones were still practiced, but no new ones had been discovered, so that one can say: everything else that happens actually takes place in the service of this mighty spiritual struggle. For even that which appears so dominant, seemingly setting the tone: the founding of the German-Roman Empire, which is spreading—isn’t it?—from the West into Central Europe under the Saxon emperors, this linking of Central Europe with Italy—all of this recedes more or less in the face of the immense power inherent in the fact that, during these times, the Church was pouring out an international influence across Europe that would only become a national one starting in the 15th century. It was not until the 15th century that the conditions under which we currently live in Europe began to develop, including with regard to the peoples of Central Europe. This must be emphasized again and again, for what was actually at the root of what was constantly unfolding between the so-called Roman-German emperors and the popes? You can study this in particular by reading the accounts of Henry IV, who may have been misrepresented in history but was politically very astute. The underlying factor in such matters was always that it was necessary for those who wanted to rule—who were supposed to rule for my sake—to subdue the rebellious. The expanding Church was, of course, a good means of combating the rebellious—provided the Church cooperated. Hence the ever-ongoing intertwining of secular and ecclesiastical power, which at that time could only be achieved through a certain relationship between those who were elected in Central Europe and who, precisely because of what they gained through this election in Central Europe, had little else to sustain their rule but the strength drawn from the rebellious—the strength of those who actually did not want them to rule at all.

[ 34 ] Just consider this: we are dealing with an elective monarchy. The kings were elected. They were elected by the so-called seven electors. Of these seven electors, however, three were ecclesiastical princes. The ecclesiastical princes, with the help of ecclesiastical resources, as I just indicated, were powerful. The archbishops of Mainz, Cologne, and Trier initially held three of the seven votes that mattered, and they were powerful. In addition, the Count Palatine of the Rhine was, in fact, the only other powerful figure; he was still in a position, given the circumstances that had developed, to deal with his vassals—later called subjects. But as for the other three so-called electors—one of whom, for example, was the King of Bohemia, who was himself a rebellious figure—the other two ruled over regions that were still entirely Slavic at the time, along the Elbe and so on, with a predominantly Slavic population. The kingship really meant nothing other than what the Carolingian era had meant. The only difference was that the Carolingian era coped more easily with what was striving to the surface, because the suggestive power of language was present. That was not the case in Central Europe.

[ 35 ] I could go on at length about how these differences developed in detail; but you can read about that in any history book, and if you approach history from the perspectives we’re using here, you’ll see it in a whole new light.

[ 36 ] Once the tensions that had gradually developed between the papacy and the empire had subsided somewhat, the ecclesiastical element had become so powerful that it sought to pursue an independent political course. This was essentially the case in the 11th and 12th centuries. And it is interesting to note that Pope Innocent III now administered the situation in Italy—which until then had been virtually anarchic, with the Church’s position there being, in a certain sense, the most difficult—from Rome. In fact, it is Innocent III, as a human and spiritual force through the influence he exerted, who was the true creator of a national consciousness among the so-called Italians. Innocent III was of Lombard descent, but one can say that what emanated from him essentially forged the Italian nation, which in fact became a nation through the impulses set in motion by Innocent III. The process of nationalization was not completed until around the 15th century. Thus, it was essentially the Church itself that created the national element. Consequently, when considering the formation of the French nation during this period, one must look to the evocative power of language; in the case of the Italian nation, one must look directly to the ecclesiastical element. All these things merely confirm—when viewed historically, this is prosaic and abstract—what one concretely derives from spiritual science, which we have already considered in relation to the various nations.

[ 37 ] It is quite characteristic of Innocent III that he actually assigned very specific tasks to the Catholic Church. And one might ask: What, then, is the actual task that the papacy set for itself after the great era I have spoken of—beginning roughly in the 10th, 11th, and 12th centuries—and what has been the mission of the papacy since those centuries? The mission of the papacy within the Catholic Church essentially consists in preventing Europe from recognizing what the Christ impulse actually is. More or less consciously, the aim is to establish a church that has made it its task to completely misconstrue the true Christian impulse—to prevent the people from understanding what the true impulse of Christianity is. For wherever an attempt is made to bring to the fore any element that seeks to draw closer to the Christian impulse—let us say the element of Francis of Assisi or something similar—that element is indeed assimilated, but it is not incorporated into the actual structure of ecclesiastical authority. European conditions have developed in such a way that people in Europe have gradually adopted a form of Christianity that is not truly Christianity. Christianity must first be made known again through the spiritual-scientific discovery of Christianity. The fact that Europeans have adopted a form of Christianity that is not truly Christianity is a major reason why speaking about the Christian mysteries is an absolute impossibility today. There is nothing that can be done about this; it will first require a long period of preparation. For what matters is not that one uses the name of Christ, but rather that one be able to grasp the essence of what Christianity is in the right way. But that is precisely what was meant to be concealed, what was meant to be suppressed by the actions of popes such as Innocent III.

[ 38 ] Even the external circumstances were remarkable, as Innocent III brought them to light. For one must not forget that at that time a remarkable victory had been won by the papal side. As you will know from general history, there was a dual current in Central, Southern, and Western Europe: one that was more favorable to the papacy—the so-called Guelph faction—and one that was hostile to the papacy—the Hohenstaufen faction. The Hohenstaufens were, after all, more or less always in conflict with the popes. However, this did not prevent Innocent III from joining forces with the French and the Hohenstaufens to defeat the English and the Guelphs. For matters had already reached the point where the papal side was now reckoning with circumstances that would later become political. In its better days, the Church had not yet been able to reckon with political circumstances; it had to reckon with concrete circumstances.

[ 39 ] This gives you a picture of the configuration of Europe and of the gradual integration—the fitting in—of the universal Church into this configuration of Europe. Now, we must not forget that this was essentially the Church’s overcoming of the old clairvoyant element. That was one side of the story. But the old clairvoyant element continued to develop nonetheless, and you see everywhere where secular and ecclesiastical powers strike compromises that here and there there is talk of princes or popes having to wage war against heretics. Just think of the Waldensians and so on, the Cathars; such heretical elements are everywhere. But they also had their continuation, their development. Gradually, something emerged from them, and these were the people who, little by little and of their own accord, began to examine Christianity. And the remarkable thing is that, from among the heretics, people gradually emerged who examined Christianity on their own and were able to recognize that what emanates from Rome is, after all, something other than Christianity. This was a new element in the struggle, one that can present a particularly strong challenge to you if you follow the struggle that the kings of France—who were allied with the Pope—had to wage against the Count of Toulouse, who was a protector of the heretics in southern France. And such things can be found in all areas. But these heretics looked at Christianity and could not agree with the political Christianity that emanated from Rome. So that, as the circumstances I have described took shape, there were also such heretics everywhere—who were, in fact, Christians—who were fiercely opposed, who often kept a low profile, founded all sorts of communities, and shrouded their beliefs in secrecy. The others were powerful; but they strove for a distinct form of Christianity.

[ 40 ] Now it would be interesting to examine how, on the one hand, the continuous incursions from Asia gave rise to what are known as the Crusades. But for the papacy, the call to the Crusades issued by Peser of Amiens and others “on behalf of the Pope” served at the same time as a kind of means of communication. Even back then, the papacy was in need of a kind of revitalization. What had become purely political needed to generate artificial enthusiasm, and essentially, the way the Crusades were conducted by the papacy was intended to instill new enthusiasm in the people. But now there were people who actually emerged from the ranks of the heretics, who represent the direct continuation of heresy.

[ 41 ] Godfrey of Bouillon was particularly characteristic and representative of these heretics, who had, however, taken a look at Christianity; for Godfrey of Bouillon is always portrayed in a distorted light in history. History always portrays it as if Peter of Amiens and Walter of Habenichts had set out first, had been unable to accomplish anything of substance, and then, following the same trend, Godfrey of Bouillon had marched to Asia Minor with others, and they had intended to continue what Peter of Amiens and Walter of Habenichts should have done. But that is not the case at all. For this so-called first organized Crusade is something entirely different.

[ 42 ] Godfrey of Bouillon and the others allied with him had essentially—even if they did not outwardly display it as such, for the reasons I have explained—emerged from the ranks of the heretics. And for them, the goal was initially a Christian one: with the help of the Crusades, by establishing a new center against Rome from Jerusalem, they wanted to replace the Christianity of Rome with true Christianity. The Crusades were directed against Rome by those who were, in a sense, initiated into their true secrets. And the secret watchword of the Crusaders was: Jerusalem against Rome. — This is what is scarcely touched upon in external history, yet it is the truth. What they sought to achieve from within heretical Christianity—in contrast to Roman-political Christianity—they sought to attain indirectly through the Crusades. But that did not succeed. The papacy was still too powerful. What did come about, however, was a broadening of horizons. One need only recall how narrow the horizon had become in Europe as far back as the time of Augustine. In my book *Christianity as a Mystical Fact*, you will find quoted a statement by Augustine—one that Gregory of Nazianzus and others had also made: “Yes, certain things are naturally incompatible with reason, but the Church, the Catholic Church, prescribes them; therefore, I believe them.” — This version, this ominous assertion—which was, of course, necessary for Europe in many respects—had, however, led to people shunning broad perspectives that were capable of connecting to profound feelings and grand worldviews. Read Augustine’s *Confessions* to see how he flees from the Manichaeans. And in fact, it is precisely this—that in Manichaean doctrine he finds a worldview. People are afraid of this, they fear it, they shy away from it. Over in Asia, however, the ancient Persian doctrine had flourished—based on what I have described in very material terms as the flow of gold to the East—and had experienced a great resurgence. The Crusaders greatly broadened their horizons; they were able to build upon what had actually been buried, and thus many secrets were revealed to them, which they carefully guarded. The result was that, because they were not powerful enough to carry out “Jerusalem against Rome,” they had to continue treating these matters as secrets. This led to the emergence of religious orders and all manner of secret societies, which preserved certain Christian teachings under a different guise—precisely because the Church was powerful—within orders and the like, even though these groups were, in fact, opposed to the Church.

[ 43 ] It was back then that this difference actually emerged—a difference one now encounters only when, once again, one has visited a church somewhere, say in Italy, and someone inside has just been preaching against the Freemasons: you see people standing there who, of course, are completely indifferent to the Freemasons; they don’t even know their names, but the pastor is railing against the Freemasons from the pulpit. This contrast between Christianity and Freemasonry—which, nevertheless, developed out of heresy—essentially took shape back then.

[ 44 ] These and many other examples could be cited if one truly wishes to understand, in concrete terms and in detail, what actually happened back then. And you will have seen from the whole picture that life was, in part, quite diverse, but that the most varied intellectual interests were intertwined. People were confronted with such contrasts as that between the heretics—many of whom were actually Christians in the best sense of the word—and the institutional Christians. One could cite many other factors that led, for example, to the Reformation in Germany and similar events. One could point out that, as the church became increasingly politicized, it lost more and more of its means of power, whereas in earlier times it would have been completely unthinkable that the church would not have found a way to enforce whatever it wanted. In certain areas, one must admit—even though the Church was in a position to burn Hus at the Council of Constance—that Husism persisted and, as a force, actually held considerable significance.

[ 45 ] But now, what is the true character of these medieval intellectuals? Wasn’t there a religious movement that spread and ultimately took on a purely political form? It’s a pity that time is so short; there are still many interesting points that could be explored. A religious movement spread that took on a universal character. Due to changing circumstances, national identities in Europe gradually developed. If you consider that Christianity gave rise to ideas that became so deeply rooted in Europe—such as the concept of the Fall of Man—that works like the *Paradeisspiel* could emerge, a play that was performed across vast regions, indeed throughout all of Europe, particularly in the 12th century. It has penetrated down to the most individual, most elementary circumstances. Ideas that penetrate deeply, deeply into hearts and souls have become widely disseminated—ideas about what human beings, according to—if one may say so—God’s original design, could actually have been, and what they have become.

[ 46 ] This created a certain mood, and perhaps never before—certainly not in our time—has a question been posed time and again, with such emotional intensity, across such a wide circle: the question based on the difference between this world here and the world of paradise, between the world that can make people happy. This question, in its many different forms, has already dominated wide circles. And intelligent people—those whose longings were intellectual—were led by it to direct their aspirations, often naively but often also objectively, toward such mysteries. Just consider the entire configuration of the times. With the Roman Empire, Europe became impoverished. A subsistence economy took hold. Under this subsistence economy, conditions gradually developed—you need only think of the law of the jungle in the Middle Ages, the intermarriage of ruling families, and so on—that did not appear paradisiacal to the people. The Church had spread, to such an extent for many that they said to themselves: “This is not Christianity; it serves rather to obscure Christianity, giving a false impression of the mystery of Christ rather than a true one.” But all of this has, in fact, had the effect of making us unhappy. — The question: Why is humanity not happy on earth? — yes, one can say that, more than eating and drinking, this question gradually occupied people’s minds in the 13th, 14th, and 15th centuries, especially those who had sensed, in the right way, something of the mystery of Golgotha. This, of course, has a deep meaning and a different significance, which for people was linked to the question: Why are we not happy? Under what conditions can a human being become happy on Earth?

[ 47 ] As a result, something took shape—and the form it took can be attributed to the cause I am about to mention—which will be clear to you from the descriptions I have provided. Europe was without gold; a subsistence economy was the basis upon which this unfortunate humanity had developed. The Roman Papacy had veiled Christianity. ‘But people must strive for something that is a truly human goal.’ And so—to put it briefly, though it sounds paradoxical—a sentiment emerged in wider circles, precisely among those who had emerged from the ranks of the heretics: Yes, we have become poor in Europe; Roman culture has gradually impoverished us. — And it has been recognized that only those who work their way up in the same way that made the Roman Empire great—those who had acquired gold—will succeed. How can this be halted? How can the power of gold be halted? If only one could make gold!

[ 48 ] Thus, the widespread art of experimenting and trying one’s hand at making gold is linked to very concrete circumstances during a time when gold was scarce and only a few individuals were able to acquire it—those who could then use their gold to tyrannize others. People sought to counterbalance this. For they knew this: If everyone can make gold, then gold has no value. — Thus, the ability to make gold became the ideal. They told themselves: One can only be happy, in any case, in a world where one can make gold. — And the situation is similar with regard to the quest for the “Philosopher’s Stone,” and even with the question of the “homunculus.” Where interests arise as they did through family relationships—as seen in the divisions among the Carolingians and so on—people cannot be happy. But this is connected to the natural reproduction of humankind. In any case, if a paradise is possible, it is more likely to be possible through the creation of homunculi than if ordinary procreation, with all its family dynamics, were to continue. Such ideas, which sound quite paradoxical and twisted today, were once a matter that stirred the minds of countless people. And one cannot understand that era unless one knows that it was driven by such questions.

[ 49 ] And then came the 15th century, which, outwardly speaking, naturally put an end to the gold rush at first by the discovery of America and the importation of gold from there. And then what I have just described began to subside. Summarizing, in a universal sense, all those elements that were at work during the Crusades and became more deeply rooted during that time—summarizing all the longings that characterized the Middle Ages—the art of the art of making gold, the creation of the homunculus—to synthesize all of this in a truly spiritual way so that it could have become a dynamic impulse: that was essentially the task the companions of Christian Rosenkreutz set for themselves. For this to happen, all the events that had unfolded up to the 15th century first had to take place.

[ 50 ] The time had not yet come to draw new truths from the spirit, and therefore the impulses of Christian Rosenkreutz, just like the efforts of Johann Valentin Andreae, ultimately proved unsuccessful. What did they amount to? They amounted to this—and I ask you to pay close attention to and take into account what I am about to say—namely, to recognize that Europe is becoming more diverse; from what once prevailed there, diverse structures have emerged.

[ 51 ] It would also be interesting—though there is no longer time for this—to describe how the British nation was formed in a similar way. Even in the East, the Russian-Slavic nation was formed in a corresponding manner. All of this could be described. Everywhere, it has been a reaction from below; it is just particularly significant in France, where the genius from below took on a direct character in the person of Joan of Arc.

[ 52 ] To create something truly universal in the face of this differentiation—for it was precisely Innocent III, who founded the Italian nation, who had shown that Romanism is not suited to being universal; so the Church is no longer universalist—to find a spiritual impulse strong enough to transcend all these distinctions and truly make humanity a whole—that was essentially what lay at the foundation of Rosicrucianism. Of course, humanity was not yet ready to embark on the paths and means to achieve this. Yet it has always remained an ideal. And just as it is true that humanity is a whole, a unity, so too is it true that, even if for a time in a different form, such an ideal must be taken up once again. And history itself—as it leads up to the fifteenth century, as it gives rise to the distinctive configuration of the fifteenth century—is the most vivid proof of this. There is no need to revive the old Rosicrucianism, but the ideal that underlay it must be taken up again.

[ 53 ] These are a few aphoristic remarks I wanted to make before I go. They are really more like suggestions I wanted to offer than anything detailed or exhaustive, now that I will once again have to say goodbye to you, so to speak, for some time. Over the course of these years, if I may say so, it has become increasingly difficult to say goodbye, because it has always taken place under less and less hopeful circumstances. Well, of course I need not assure you that I regard this building and everything connected with it, in an honest and sincere manner, as something that is, in essence, a real factor linked to the aspirations that should, in the broadest sense, be the aspirations of our time. I have never viewed this building merely as a hobby or something similar pursued by individual groups or the like; rather, I have always seen in this building—and in what gave rise to it, in the foundation upon which it is built—something that must be the cultural catalyst of our time, and indeed of the future.

[ 54 ] Therefore, one can certainly say that a great deal depends on those who have brought themselves to recognize the significance of this structure truly understanding it and defending it with conviction, seriousness, and all due dignity. Certainly, the structure is, in every respect, a first attempt. But if humanity is to be redeemed within the human being once again, if that which is trampled underfoot today is to be nurtured within humanity once more, then forces will be necessary that are of the same nature as those intended by our building and everything associated with it.

[ 55 ] It sounds very strange today when old religious creeds and the like are criticized; for these old religious creeds have had quite a long time to take effect. And if humanity has reached a dead end today, then it is perhaps not unfounded to ask: If you are saying the same thing you said before, why didn’t it work earlier? — That is, when viewed correctly, what may ultimately lead some to realize the necessity of what is actually meant here, of what is intended here.

[ 56 ] And now, whatever the future may bring—every time I have left, I have asked you: No matter what circumstances may arise, to the best of your ability, hold fast to what has led to this construction. Certainly, one might say that the hostility will grow; but consider that even in these unfavorable times, over the course of the last few years, here and there—and even in wider circles—some interest has indeed arisen precisely in the nature of this work and what is connected with it. And if one were to set aside for a moment the great task of our spiritual scientific movement, the difficulties it faces, and the vast gap between what is to be achieved and what currently exists—if one were to look, without becoming naive on the one hand, yet without misjudging the situation on the other, at what is developing—one can, after all, also look at the positive aspects—then one would see that progress is indeed being made! Things are moving forward after all. If, for example, you observe with a keen sense how a detail such as the art of eurythmy has continued to develop here over the course of the last few years—I believe one can already notice this—then one can say that there is no standstill in our ranks. And anyone who were to consider the more intimate progress taking place specifically within the construction of this building might well speak of a certain degree of progress. I can even say this today, as I must once again take my leave of you for a while, with a certain inner, heartfelt emotion.

[ 57 ] In the early days of creating this structure, the first task was to lay out the broad outlines, to ensure that this or that was done. But even as we turn our attention—and must turn it—with deep sorrow and profound suffering to how this building has suffered under the general catastrophic conditions facing humanity, something else must also be said: Circumstances have dictated—it was necessary this time—that I have worked much more closely here and there on the details that are taking shape in this building. And precisely for this reason, I can say that I am permitted to express this here with a moved heart: What is taking shape in the Work truly brings to expression, ever more visibly and intimately, that which is connected with the greater impulses of humanity. For example, I was able to tell you recently about the new Isis legend, a narrative that is intended to be characteristic of the entire context of the building—characteristic of what I wish to express when I say that this building is to be a kind of—let me use the philistine expression — a milestone that separates the Old—which will finally have to recognize that it is the Old—from the New, which is striving to come into being because it must, if humanity is not to descend into ever more catastrophic circumstances. The time will certainly come when people will regret having regarded what this building is intended to achieve as sheer folly in so many cases. For this catastrophe of humanity will also have the consequence that people will come to understand many things they would not have understood without it. For it speaks through very, very clear signs. There is indeed much evidence, observable during the construction of this building, that humanity can be redeemed from its own human nature precisely through impulses such as those associated with this building.

[ 58 ] Today, you will be particularly struck by how many cultural works come into being in a purely external way. Ask yourself whether, wherever a church or something similar—it could also be a department store—is built today, it is always built in such a way that the builder and those who work on it are fully immersed in the purpose for which these structures are built. One could build many a great cathedral where the master builders do not really believe in the symbolism contained within it. Here, however, it is certainly true that the person who works best is the one who is most deeply connected to the project with his heart—the one who is able to commit not only his art but his whole being, who does not merely work with the outward forms but, from the bottom of his heart, not only collaborates with this worldview but lives it. And that is why I must say: It is of very special significance to me, especially at this time, to express not only outward gratitude to all those who wish to dedicate their work, their life forces, and their thoughts to this building and to collaborate with us here to bring this work to fruition, but also to tell them that I truly feel, deeply, deeply, what it means that people have come together who wish to work here on this cultural endeavor. — And out of this feeling—which binds us even more deeply in times when people are as bound as they are now—I say to you today, as we come to the conclusion of these lectures, first of all a kind of farewell to the external, physical circumstances. We will all remain united in thought. Physical circumstances cannot separate us. But what will best unite us is this: that the power which seeks to be built into and shaped within that which, in times of turmoil for humanity, seeks to develop into peace for humanity, remains alive within us.