The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Sixth Lecture

[ 1 ] Today I would like to continue the discussion I began here the day before yesterday. We had left off at the point where we had lost track of the thread of development as it plays a role in the spiritual life of the present, with the individuality of Julian the Apostate—or rather, the individuality that lived within Julian the Apostate—and about which I have indicated to you that it was initially embodied in that personality of whom only legendary accounts exist, the personality who is enshrined in the Parsifal legend as Herzeloyde. It was a profound inner life that entered the soul of the former Julian the Apostate—a profound inner life that this individuality truly needed, needed in the face of the storms and inner conflicts it had just endured during its existence as Julian the Apostate. This life, of which I spoke to you, was one that drifted over the life of Julian the Apostate like a peaceful, warm cloud. And so the soul became more intense inwardly. Thus the soul also became richer, richer in the most manifold inner impulses.

[ 2 ] But this soul—because it belonged to those who had still retained something of the ancient mysteries, who had still lived within the very essence of those mysteries at a time when they were, in a certain sense, still radiant—had absorbed much of the spirituality of the cosmos. This had, so to speak, been suppressed during the Herzeloyde incarnation, but it surged upward within the soul, and so we find this individuality again in the sixteenth century. And in the sixteenth century, we recognize in this individual how what she had experienced as Julian the Apostate rises up in a Christianized form. This individual appears as Tycho Brahe in the sixteenth century and stands in contrast to what emerges in Western civilization as the Copernican worldview.

[ 3 ] This Copernican worldview presented a picture of the universe that, when taken to its ultimate consequences, serves to drive spirituality out of the cosmos through this very conception. The Copernican worldview ultimately leads to a completely mechanical and machine-like conception of the universe in space. And after all, it is precisely this Copernican worldview that led a famous astronomer to tell Napoleon that he could find no God within this universe; he had searched everywhere, yet he could find no God. It is, in fact, the expulsion of all spirituality.

[ 4 ] The distinctive individuality that was now present in Tycho de Brahe could not accept this. Therefore, we see how Tycho Brahe, with regard to his worldview, accepts what is useful in Copernicanism, while rejecting the absolute motion that had to be attributed to the Earth according to the Copernican worldview. And we see this in Tycho de Brahe as linked to genuine spirituality—a spirituality in which, when we consider the course of his life, we can literally see how old karma surges into Tycho de Brahe’s life, surges upward with all its might, striving to become the content of his consciousness. Thus, his Danish relatives tried in every way to keep him in the legal profession; he was forced to study law in Leipzig under the supervision of a private tutor and could only, while the tutor slept, carve out the hours during which he communed with the gods at night. And here something highly remarkable becomes apparent—which is, after all, also reflected in his biography.

[ 5 ] You will see that this is significant for the subsequent assessment of the Tycho de Brahe-Herzeloyde-Julian individuality. Even with very primitive instruments that he had assembled himself, he discovered significant calculation errors that had been made regarding the determinations of the positions of Saturn and Jupiter. And we have this remarkable episode in Tycho de Brahe’s life: as a young man, using primitive instruments—the kind one would not normally think could be of any use—he one day felt compelled to determine the exact positions of Saturn and Jupiter in the sky. Such things are then thoroughly interwoven with the spiritual in his case—a spirituality that leads him into a conception of the universe such as one must actually have if one is striving toward modern initiation, where one then comes to to speak of spiritual beings in the same way one speaks of physical human beings on Earth—because one can, in fact, always encounter them; for, fundamentally, there is only a difference in being, a difference in the quality of being, between those human individualities who currently dwell here on the physical plane and those who are disembodied and live between death and a new birth.

[ 6 ] But this sparked in Tycho Brahe an extraordinarily significant insight into the interrelationships that arise when one no longer views everything here on Earth as if it were caused by earthly impulses and calculates it up there in the stars merely mathematically, but rather when one perceives the interplay of stellar impulses and human historical impulses. Through that instinctive quality in the soul that he had brought with him from his life as Julian the Apostate—a life that, at the time, was not permeated by rationalism or intellectualism but was instead intuitive and imaginative (for such was the inner life of Julian the Apostate)—through all of this, he was then able to accomplish something truly sensational.

[ 7 ] He was unable to make much of an impression on his contemporaries with his astronomical views—which, admittedly, differed from those of Copernicus—or with his other contributions to astronomy. He observed countless stars and drew a star chart, which was the sole factor that enabled Kepler to arrive at his magnificent findings. For Kepler arrived at his laws based on Tycho Brahe’s star chart. All of this, however, would likely not have made as great an impression on his contemporaries as a certain event—not particularly significant in itself, but striking nonetheless: namely, he prophetically predicted the death of Sultan Suleiman almost to the day, and it occurred exactly as he had foretold. We can truly see in Tycho Brahe the influence of a newer era, combined with—I would say—a spiritual intellectuality, ancient views that he had adopted from Julian the Apostate. We see all of this influencing the modern era in the figure of Tycho Brahe. And Tycho Brahe is certainly one of the most interesting souls who, when he passed through the gate of death in the seventeenth century, was transported into the spiritual world.

[ 8 ] Well, Tycho de Brahe-Julian-ApostataHerzeloyde is actually constantly present in the currents I have described as “Michael currents”; in one or another of the supersensory functions, he is essentially always there. That is why he also reappears in connection with significant events in the supersensible world related to this Michael current at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries.

[ 9 ] I have previously referred to the great school of supersensible teaching in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, which was under Michael’s own auspices. Then, for those who were part of this school of teaching, a phase of life began in which the development of spiritual powers and activities in the spiritual world took place in such a way that these activities had a downward effect on the physical world and interacted with it. For example, precisely during this period—which followed the time of that school of instruction—an important task fell to an individual whose ongoing life I have often spoken of: the individuality of Alexander the Great.

[ 10 ] I have, in fact, pointed out here as well how Bacon of Verulam, Lord Bacon, is the reincarnation of Harun al-Rashid. And what is remarkable is this: in connection with Lord Bacon’s views—which exerted such an intense, decisive influence on the entire subsequent development of thought, particularly in more refined spiritual pursuits—something occurred within Lord Bacon that could be described as a pathological expulsion of the ancient spirituality that he had, after all, already possessed as Harun al-Rashid. And so we see that a whole world of demonic entities emanates from the impulse of this Lord Bacon. The world is literally filled with them, filled both supersensually and sensually—sensually, though not in a concrete sense, of course—I mean, the sensory world is filled with demonic entities. It falls to Alexander’s individuality to lead the struggle against these demonic idols of Lord Bacon, the Baco of Verulam.

[ 11 ] And similar activities, which are of extraordinary importance, are taking place below; otherwise, nineteenth-century materialism would have taken hold in an even more devastating way. Similar activities, which took place at the intersection of the spiritual and physical worlds, were then attributed to the Michael current, until, in the supersensible realms at the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries, what I have already mentioned here once before took place: the revival of a supersensibly significant cult.

[ 12 ] In the supersensible world at that time, a form of worship was established that took place within real, spiritual imaginings. So one can say: At the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth centuries, there existed—in fact, in immediate proximity, very close—in a qualitative sense, of course—to the physical-sensory world, a supersensible event that consists of supersensible ritual acts, powerful imagery arising from spiritual life, the beings of the worlds, and the beings of the hierarchies, in connection with the great etheric forces of the cosmos and with human activities on Earth. It is interesting that, at a particularly propitious moment in this supersensible ritual activity, I might say, a miniature image flowed into Goethe’s mind. And this miniature image—this metamorphosed, transformed miniature image—we have seen depicted by Goethe in his “Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily.” It is one of those instances where something now gently breaks through. You see, this was a supersensible cult in which those who had participated in the Michael current—with all the revelations, both supersensible and sensory, of which I have spoken—took a special part.

[ 13 ] Everywhere, individuality—which was ultimately embodied in Tycho Brahe—plays an extraordinarily important role. He strove in every way to preserve the great, enduring impulses of what is called paganism, or the ancient mystery traditions, precisely in order to foster a better understanding of Christianity. He had entered Christianity while living as the soul of the Herzeloydes. Now he was striving to introduce everything he had gained through his Julian the Apostate initiation into the concepts of Christianity. That, in particular, was what seemed important to the souls I have been speaking of. The numerous souls who now find themselves in the anthroposophical movement—and who sincerely strive toward this movement—are connected to all these currents. They feel drawn to the Michael current precisely because of the inner nature and essence of this Michael current. And Tycho Brahe had a significant influence on the fact that these souls, at the end of the nineteenth century or the beginning of the twentieth century—but primarily at the end of the nineteenth century—came down to Earth prepared not merely to see or feel Christ as the various denominations do, but rather to perceive him once again in all his magnificent cosmic splendor as the cosmic Christ. To this end, they were indeed prepared—even supersensibly between death and a new birth—through influences such as those of Tycho de Brahe, the soul that was most recently incarnated in Tycho de Brahe. Thus, this individuality actually played an extraordinarily significant role, continuously and specifically within this Michael current.

[ 14 ] You see, attention was always focused on this—both within the ancient school of teaching in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and later during the practice of the supersensible cult, which was intended, so to speak, to usher in from the supersensible world the subsequent, newly emerging reign of Michael on Earth— everywhere, attention was drawn to the coming Michael reign.

[ 15 ] Now, as I have already hinted, a great many souls with Platonic inclinations have remained in the spiritual world since their time of activity in Chartres. Today I have had other images from the collection of images about Chartres posted here—images of prophets, but also images of Chartres’ extraordinarily wondrous architecture. The individualities of the teachers of Chartres, who were specifically of a Platonic nature, remained in the spiritual world. It was more the Aristotelians—who, for example, were numerous in the Dominican Order—who descended; but after a certain time, they united and, from the spiritual world, worked together with the Platonists in a supersensible way. So one can say: In fact, the souls of a Platonic nature have always remained behind; to this day, they have not reappeared on Earth in their more essential individualities, but are waiting until the end of this century.

[ 16 ] On the other hand, many of those who felt drawn to what I have described as the Michael deeds in the supersensible realm—those who were sincerely drawn to such a spiritual movement—have in fact joined the current of the anthroposophical movement. And one can certainly say: What lives in anthroposophy was inspired, first and foremost, by the Michael School of Teaching in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and by that supersensible cult that took place at the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth century.

[ 17 ] It is indeed for this reason that, when my mystery plays were created in connection with this supersensible cult, the very first mystery play—even though it differs greatly from Goethe’s “Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily”—nevertheless exhibits clearly similar traits. These works, which are intended to contain genuine spiritual impulses, cannot simply be conjured out of thin air, but are conceived and crafted in complete harmony with the spiritual world.

[ 18 ] Thus, here we stand today with the anthroposophical movement, which has entered the Michael Kingdom that has now begun, called upon to understand precisely the nature of this Michael Kingdom, called upon—precisely in the spirit of Michael’s work throughout the centuries and millennia— now that he is once again assuming his earthly reign at a particularly significant moment, to work in this direction. It lies in the inner esoteric nature of this Michael current that what is to happen is mapped out in a very specific way, at least for this century.

[ 19 ] But you see, my dear friends, when it comes to anthroposophy—if one takes it as it is today and traces its history back—one finds little preparation for life on Earth. Just step back a bit from what appears today as anthroposophy, and search with an open mind—not with your judgment clouded by all sorts of philological quibbles—but with an open mind for sources of this anthroposophy somewhere, say, in the course of the nineteenth century: you will not find them. You will find isolated traces of spiritual insight that, like seeds—though very sparse ones—could be incorporated into the entire structure of anthroposophy; but there is no actual preparation within the earthly realm.

[ 20 ] All the more intense, then, is the preparation in the supersensible realm. And finally, you all know to what extent Goethe’s work—even after his death, though this may appear differently in my books—contributed to the shaping of anthroposophy. The most important aspect of these matters—the most immediately important one—has already taken place in the supersensible realm. But then again, when one traces the spiritual life of the nineteenth century back so vividly to Goethe, Herder, and—for my part—even back to Lessing, then what was at work in individual minds during the waning eighteenth century and the first half of the nineteenth century—even if it appears, as in the case of Hegel, for example, in strong abstractions, or in abstract, pictorial forms as with Schelling—still strikes one as having, at the very least, a very strong spiritual influence.

[ 21 ] For I believe that in my The Riddles of Philosophy, from the way I have described Schelling and Hegel, one can see that I nevertheless wanted to point to something in the spiritual-psychic aspect of this development of the worldview that can then lead into anthroposophy. In my book The Riddles of Philosophy, I also attempted to grasp these abstractions that arise—I would say—with the heart. I might perhaps refer in particular to the chapter on Hegel, as well as to some of what is said about Schelling.

[ 22 ] But one must go even deeper. Then one finds strange phenomena that arose in the spiritual life of the first half of the nineteenth century and that then—I would say—initially sank into what constituted the spiritual and materialistic life of the second half of the nineteenth century. And yet, in all of this, something emerges that—even if expressed in abstract terms—is thoroughly spiritual; there is spiritual life and activity within it.

[ 23 ] The philosopher Schelling is particularly interesting—and becomes more and more so the more one delves into his work. I would say that, much like Fichte, he begins with ideas that are imbued with will, sharply defined, and pure. That was indeed how Fichte presented himself. Johann Gottlieb Fichte is, after all, one of the few figures in world history—perhaps, in a certain sense, unique in his kind—a figure who combined the most powerful conceptual abstractions with enthusiasm and the energy of the will, so that he presents a particularly fascinating phenomenon: The short, stocky Fichte, whose growth had been somewhat stunted by the hardships of his youth, who, when one watched him on the street, walked with an immensely firm stride, all will, a will that found its full expression in the articulation of the most abstract concepts, yet through these very concepts achieved something akin to those “Addresses to the German Nation” he delivered, with which he inspired countless people in a truly wondrous way.

[ 24 ] Schelling comes across almost like Fichte—not with the same intensity, but with a similar way of thinking. We soon see, however, that Schelling’s mind broadens. Just as Fichte speaks of the “I” and the “not-I” and all sorts of similar abstractions, so too does Schelling in his youth, inspiring people in Jena with these ideas. But he soon moves beyond this; his mind broadens, and we see ideas entering his thought—ideas shaped by fantasy, yet in turn tending almost toward imagination. This continues for a while; then he immerses himself in thinkers such as Jakob Böhme, describing something that, in its entire tone and style, is quite different from his earlier work: the foundation of human freedom, a sort of revival of Jakob Böhme’s ideas. We then see how Platonism almost comes to life in Schelling. He composes a philosophical dialogue titled “Bruno,” which truly recalls Plato’s dialogues and is very compelling. Another short work, “Clara,” is also interesting, in which the supernatural world plays a major role.

[ 25 ] Then Schelling remains silent for an awfully long time. His fellow philosophers—I might say—consider him a living dead man, and he then publishes only the extraordinarily significant treatise on the Samothracian Mysteries—yet another expansion of his mind. For the time being, however, he continues to live in Munich until the King of Prussia summons him to lecture at the University of Berlin on the very philosophy that Schelling says he had developed in the silence of his solitude over the course of decades. And now Schelling appears in Berlin with the very philosophy that is later included in his posthumous works as the “Philosophy of Mythology” and the “Philosophy of Revelation.” He does not make a great impression on the Berlin audience, for the gist of what he says in Berlin is, in fact, this: No matter how much one reflects, one achieves nothing with regard to worldviews; something must enter the human soul that, as a real spiritual world, lives through that reflection.

[ 26 ] Suddenly, instead of the old rationalist philosophy, we see in Schelling a revival of the ancient philosophy of the gods, of mythology—a revival of the ancient gods—and this in a way that is, on the one hand, entirely modern; but from all of this, one can see that an ancient spirituality is at work here. It is quite remarkable.

[ 27 ] What he develops regarding Christianity in The Philosophy of Revelation does, after all, offer significant insights—albeit in highly abstract forms—into what must be said from a spiritual perspective about certain aspects of Christianity, even within anthroposophy.

[ 28 ] It is certainly not as easy to overlook Schelling as it is to overlook the Berliners. One cannot overlook him at all! The Berliners brushed him off quite easily. When one of Schelling’s descendants married the daughter of a Prussian minister—an event outwardly connected to the matter, if also karmically connected—a Prussian official heard of this and said that he had never before known why Schelling had actually come to Berlin, but now he knew.

[ 29 ] But one can certainly run into internal difficulties and conflicts if one follows Schelling in this way. On top of that, Schelling’s final period is always portrayed in a dreadful light in histories of philosophy, yet the title “Schelling’s Theosophy” appears above every chapter on the subject. — Well, it was always the case that I spent a great deal of time engaging with Schelling. Despite the abstract form, a certain warmth always emanated from what was alive in Schelling. For example, when I was still relatively young, I spent a great deal of time studying that Platonic dialogue I just mentioned: “Bruno, or On the Divine and Natural Principle of Things.”

[ 30 ] Schelling, who had indeed been in the spiritual world again since 1854—Schelling actually came incredibly close to one precisely through this “Bruno” conversation, if one undertook it, lived through it, through his “Clara,” but especially through the treatise on the Samothracian Mysteries. It was easy to come into true, real, spiritual closeness with Schelling. And so it became completely clear to me as early as the beginning of the 1890s—whatever the case may have been with the other figures who shaped the worldview in the first half of the nineteenth century, with Schelling it was clear—that spiritual inspiration was indeed at work there. Spiritual inspiration was constantly at work in Schelling.

[ 31 ] And so one could have the following picture: Let’s say, first of all, down here in the physical world, Schelling, who went through his manifold life destinies—who, as I have said, experienced a long period of solitude among these destinies, who was treated in the most varied ways by his fellow human beings, sometimes with immense, magnificent enthusiasm, sometimes mocked, mocked—this Schelling, who actually always made a significant impression whenever he appeared in person again; he, the short, stocky man with the immensely expressive head, whose eyes still sparkled—sparkled with fire—even in his very old age, eyes from which the fire of truth spoke, the fire of knowledge; this Schelling—one can see quite clearly, the more one delves into him: he has moments when inspiration descends upon him from above.

[ 32 ] This became most evident to me when I read Robert Zimmermann’s reviews—you know, of course, that the term “anthroposophy” originates from him, but his anthroposophy is a tangled thicket of concepts—of Schelling’s work on the “world ages.” I hold Robert Zimmermann in high regard, but at that moment I couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: “Oh, you philistine!”

[ 33 ] So I went back to Schelling’s own work on the world-ages, which is admittedly written in a somewhat abstract manner, but from which one immediately recognizes: There is something in it like a description of ancient Atlantis in a wholly spiritual sense, distorted in many ways by the abstractions, but there is something in it.

[ 34 ] So you see, there is something everywhere that, especially in Schelling’s case, has such an effect that one can say: Schelling is down there, and something is happening up there that has an effect on Schelling. In Schelling’s work, it becomes particularly clear that there is, in fact, a continuous interplay between the spiritual world above and the earthly world below with regard to spiritual development. And then, once in the mid-1890s, when I was particularly intensely engaged in seeking out what the spiritual foundations of the Michael Age are and similar matters, and when I myself entered a phase of life—I can only hint at these things in My Life— but I have already hinted at it—in which I was compelled to experience very intensely the world that immediately adjoins our sensory-physical world, yet is separated from it by only a thin veil—it is in this neighboring world that the truly monumental events actually unfold, they are not at all so strongly separated from our world—when I was in Weimar, where, on the one hand, I experienced Weimar’s social life in all its facets with extraordinary intensity, but at the same time felt an inner necessity to withdraw strongly from it all, so that these things proceeded in parallel: for me, this had reached its peak: I had always experienced the spiritual world more intensely than the physical world. So even as a young person, it was not very difficult for me to quickly grasp any worldview that entered my sphere; but I had to look at a stone or a plant that I was supposed to recognize not three or four times, but fifty or sixty times—I could not easily connect my soul with that which is given a name in the physical world in a physical way.

[ 35 ] That had reached its peak back then, precisely during the Weimar era. Back then, long before the Constitutional Republican Assembly took place there, Weimar really was a place like an oasis—an intellectual oasis—quite unlike any other place in Germany. It was in that Weimar, as I mentioned in my “Autobiography,” that I first experienced my moments of loneliness. And there, once again, in order to get to the bottom of certain things, I picked up Schelling’s Deities of Samothrace and his Philosophy of Mythology (1897)—actually just for inspiration, not to study them in depth, but for inspiration, just as one uses external aids. Isn’t it true, let’s say, that anyone conducting research in the spiritual world might want to make their research a little easier at times: these are simply external aids that one has at one’s disposal, just as one has technical aids that are not really directly related to the subject at hand. Suppose someone wants to research the early Christian centuries; they might spend a few nights with the writings of St. Augustine or Clement of Alexandria under their pillow; this is an external stimulus, like any technical aid for memory. So back then, I picked up Schelling’s The Deities of Samothrace and The Philosophy of Mythology. But what I actually had in mind was what unfolded over the course of the nineteenth century—namely, that it then, as it were, flowed down and was able to become anthroposophy.

[ 36 ] There, when I was finally able to trace Schelling’s biographical development—though not clearly; this only became clear much, much later, when I wrote my Riddles of Philosophy— I was able—as I said, not entirely clearly—to perceive how much of what is in Schelling’s writings was actually written by him only under inspiration, and that the source of this inspiration was Julian Apostata-Herzeloyde-Tycho de Brahe, who did not reappear himself on the physical plane but accomplished an immense amount through Schelling’s soul. And in doing so, I became aware that this very Tycho de Brahe had progressed in an eminently powerful way beyond his existence as Tycho de Brahe. After all, very little could pass through Schelling’s physical body. But once one knows that Tycho de Brahe’s individuality hovers over Schelling as an inspiration, and then reads the flashes of genius in the Deities of Samothrace ”—those flashes of genius, particularly at the end of The Philosophy of Revelation—along with Schelling’s interpretation of the ancient mysteries, which is magnificent in its own way, and especially when one delves into the language Schelling employs there, that most remarkable language—then one soon hears not Schelling speaking, but Tycho de Brahe. And then one becomes aware of how, among other spirits, this very Tycho de Brahe—who was, after all, also present as an individuality in Julian the Apostate—contributed greatly to the emergence of certain elements in modern spiritual life, elements which, in turn, have had such a stimulating effect that at least the outward forms of expression for the anthroposophical have sometimes been drawn from them.

[ 37 ] Then again, one of the works of German philosophy that made a great impression on me is Jakob Frohschammer’s essay: “Imagination as the Fundamental Principle of the World Process,” a brilliant work from the late nineteenth century. It is insightful because this courageous man—who was excommunicated by the Church and whose writings were placed on the Index—was also bold in the face of science, uncovering the connection between what the imagination creates purely in the soul when a person engages in artistic creation, and that which acts inwardly as growth and life force. That was quite something in those days. “The Imagination as the Fundamental Principle of the World Process,” as a world-creating power, is indeed a significant work.

[ 38 ] So I became very interested in this Jakob Frohschammer once again. I sought to get to know him—in real life, not just through his writings. Once again, I found that the inspiring spirit was the same one that lived in Tycho Brahe and Julian the Apostate.

[ 39 ] There is, in fact, a whole series of figures in whom one can see how certain influences laid the groundwork for what later became anthroposophy. But behind all of this, one must recognize the spiritual light that works in the supersensible realm. For what had previously descended to Earth remained, after all, mere abstractions. Only do they sometimes take on concrete form in a mind such as Schelling’s or in a person as courageous as Jakob Frohschammer.

[ 40 ] And you see, when we look up today at what is actually at work in the supersensible realm, and understand anthroposophy’s stance on this, and when we extend our research—including in relation to history—into the very concrete, into concrete spiritual life, then this, too, serves us most excellently: Here on Earth, there are a number of souls who, in their sincere striving toward anthroposophy, have always been close to the Michael currents; and in the supersensible world, there are a number of souls—namely, the teachers of Chartres—who have remained behind. Between those who are here in the physical world and those who are above in the spiritual world, there is the most decisive tendency to unite their influences.

[ 41 ] And you see, if one wishes to have a significant helper for what one is to explore regarding the future of the twentieth century—someone, so to speak, who can advise one regarding the supersensible world when one needs the impulses that lie within it—then it is the individuality of Julian Apostata Tycho de Brahe. It is not on the physical plane today, but it is actually always there and always provides information about those things that relate specifically to the prophetic aspects of the twentieth century.

[ 42 ] And taking all of this into account, it turns out that: Those who today sincerely embrace anthroposophy are preparing their souls to reappear at the end of the twentieth century, having taken the shortest possible path through the life between death and rebirth, and to be united with those teachers from Chartres who have remained behind.

[ 43 ] And this, my dear friends, is something we should take to heart: this awareness that the anthroposophical movement, in its very essence, is called upon to continue its work, — and to reappear not only in its most significant souls, but in almost all of them, at the end of the twentieth century, when the great impetus for spiritual life on Earth is to be given; for otherwise, earthly civilization will definitively slide into the decadence whose characteristics it so strongly exhibits today.

[ 44 ] This is what I would like to do: to kindle, from such depths within your hearts, my dear friends, some of the flames we need to make spiritual life within the anthroposophical movement so strong even now that we may appear properly prepared, when that great epoch arrives—in which we will once again be active on Earth after a brief supersensible existence—when that great epoch dawns, in which, for the salvation of the Earth, especially in its most vital aspects, people will be counting on what anthroposophists are capable of.

[ 45 ] I believe that even the mere prospect of this future can inspire anthroposophists, can prompt them to awaken within themselves the feelings that will carry them through their present earthly life in a proper, energetic, dynamic, and enthusiastic manner through their present earthly life, so that this may serve as a preparation for what lies at the end of the century, when anthroposophy is to be called upon to fulfill the mission indicated.