The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Sixth Lecture

[ 1 ] I have outlined to some extent the guiding forces that were at work during the first two periods of the anthroposophical movement, and in order to lay the groundwork for describing what then took place in the third period, I would like to address a few more aspects of the first and second periods. The fact is that, despite all that has been discussed, the question can still be raised: What was the reason that the anthroposophical movement nevertheless maintained a fairly superficial connection with the theosophical movement?

[ 2 ] It is precisely this question—which is such a complex one—that can only be answered if we consider certain phenomena that are characteristic of the development of the anthroposophical movement.

[ 3 ] I would like to begin by characterizing the first period—which lasted roughly until 1907—in general terms by saying that the focus at that time was on developing the foundations of the content of the Spiritual Science.

[ 4 ] Anyone who attempts to look back at that time based on the documents will see that, little by little, in lectures, lecture series, and also in what the collaborators subsequently developed further, the content—the fundamental content of Spiritual Science in the sense that it must be conceived from an anthroposophical perspective—began to emerge. This epoch comes to a close—the details are, of course, only approximate, but such is the nature of historical development—roughly, I would say, with the publication of my *The Secret Science*.

[ 5 ] This “Secret Science,” however, did not appear in print until about a year and a half later; yet the disclosure of its essential content certainly falls within the first period of anthroposophical endeavor. During this period, right up until 1905 or 1906, a very specific hope was entirely justified. It was the hope that, gradually, the anthroposophical content might become the very essence of the Theosophical Society.

[ 6 ] Until 1905 or 1906, one could not say that the Theosophical Society would not gradually, through a completely natural development, evolve into an anthroposophical one. It was possible to hope for this because, during those years, one of the most influential figures in the Theosophical Society, Annie Besant, displayed a certain tolerance in her outward conduct and was genuinely committed to allowing different currents to coexist. This was certainly the case until around 1905 and 1906.

[ 7 ] At that time, anyone who did not want to delude themselves had to recognize that a leading figure such as Annie Besant in the Theosophical Society certainly held very primitive mental images of modern scientific thought; she did. But still, despite all the amateurish elements that found their way into her books as a result—namely because the Theosophical Society gradually became centered in London, and because this Theosophical Society gradually, I might say, fed on Eastern wisdom—a whole body of wisdom, mostly undigested, within the people who belonged to this Society. This wisdom even lived on at times in the strangest of mental images. But if one disregarded the fact that such mental images sometimes went so far as to become completely unlike their origin and true meaning, there nevertheless flowed through books such as *Ancient Wisdom* or, in particular, *The Progress of Humanity* or even *Christianity* by Annie Besant, something that, while traditionally transmitted, did indeed stem from ancient sources of wisdom—even though the channels through which this ancient wisdom had flowed down into those books and lectures were not always flawless. Such, then, was the state of affairs at that time.

[ 8 ] On the other hand, one must always bear in mind the fact that, outside of these circles, there was absolutely no interest in genuine spiritual research in the world at that time. It was simply a fact that among those who, so to speak, found their way into this group of people, the possibility arose to spark an interest in genuine modern Spiritual Science.

[ 9 ] However, it was precisely during this early period that we had to contend with various challenges. I do not wish to burden you with the fact that the very name “Theosophy” was adopted by a great many societies—societies that, in essence, had very little to do with serious spiritual striving. A quest was certainly present in many people, but it was in part quite selfish and in part extraordinarily trivial. Yet even such trivial movements often called themselves Theosophical Societies. One need only recall, for example, that certain theosophical branches were quite widespread—particularly in Central Europe, in Germany, Austria, and also in Switzerland—which called themselves by that name but, in essence, possessed what the Theosophical Society had in an extremely watered-down form, and were, moreover, steeped in all manner of occultism, sometimes of a very foolish nature.

[ 10 ] A figure who was active in many ways in such fields and in such societies was someone whose name you—or at least many of you—are likely to recognize: Franz Hartmann. But what “profound spirit” and what “profound seriousness”—spoken in quotation marks—there was in these trivial societies may simply become clear to you from my description of the somewhat cynical character of that leader I have just mentioned. He once said this in a small gathering—one in which I was also present—for one can certainly take a psychological interest in such matters to see how the human soul might actually arrive at one thing or another. At one point, the Theosophical Society had a certain dispute regarding the figure of “Judge” in America. I do not wish to speak of this dispute, but merely to say that the dispute revolved specifically around whether certain messages that Judge had sent originated from genuine higher initiated beings, so-called Masters. Well, Franz Hartmann said: “Oh, I know all about this Judge business. He sent out such ‘Master letters’ in America. At that time, he came to India.” We were at headquarters in India, and he wanted—so that he could have authority in America, so that he could claim to have received missions from initiated beings—to have “Master Letters.” So I said to him, as Franz Hartmann recounted: “Master Letters? I can write some for you.” Judge replied: “Yes, but that won’t work—I can’t claim that those are master letters, because they’re supposed to come flying down from the sky, they’re supposed to come about in a magical way and then land on your head, and I have to be able to say that.” Then Franz Hartmann said to Judge—he told the story himself!—“Oh, that’s no problem; we can do that.” Judge was a very small man, Hartmann told us, and so he said to him: “Stand on the floor; I’ll stand on a chair, and then I’ll let the letter fall on your head.” That way, he could say with a clear conscience that he was distributing letters that had flown out of the air and landed on his head.

[ 11 ] Well, that’s just one extreme example of the sort of things that are by no means rare in the world. But, as I said, I do not wish to bother you with these trivial societies; I merely wish to point out that, precisely during this early period of the anthroposophical movement—as it developed alongside the Theosophical Society—a certain necessity arose to defend against modern scientific thinking.

[ 12 ] I do not know whether those who later joined the anthroposophical movement—and who, as scientists and from a scientific perspective, specifically examined the now more developed anthroposophy in its third period— have gained sufficient insight into the fact that an engagement with modern scientific thought took place in a very distinctive way precisely during the first period of the anthroposophical movement. I would like to give you a few examples of this. I am citing only examples, for this occurred in a wide variety of contexts. But these examples will show you that, at that time, precisely within this Theosophical Movement, there was a strong influence of what I characterized here a few days ago as particularly characteristic of modern education: the bowing to so-called scientific authority.

[ 13 ] This deference to scientific authority had just made its way into the Theosophical Society. It became apparent, for example, that Annie Besant, in particular, was attempting to include all sorts of quotations from contemporary science in her books—things that had absolutely no relevance to Spiritual Science, such as the so-called Weismannian theory of heredity. These were inserted into the books as evidence. Now I would like to recall that, when we were in a position to establish a kind of center for the anthroposophical movement in Munich —centers for this movement were gradually forming in Berlin, Munich, Stuttgart, Kassel, Düsseldorf, Cologne, Hamburg, Hanover, and Leipzig; in Austria, the Vienna center; and in a certain sense even the Prague center—centers were emerging—that there were a great many such rootless souls there who were already organized in a certain way. They were involved in one society or another. Now, I will completely set aside the trivial societies of the Hartmann variety, but I would like to point out that, while we were establishing the branch in Munich, the issue at hand was engaging in discussions with the various smaller or larger groups that were already there.

[ 14 ] There was a group called the Ketterl. This Ketterl consisted of truly learned people. Within this Ketterl, these people were concerned with providing scientific evidence for the claims that were being made in the field of Spiritual Science. They wanted, for example, to use the views held at the time in the natural sciences as a stepping stone to arrive at what anthroposophy, for instance, presented. When anthroposophy spoke of an etheric body, they said to themselves: Natural science has gone so far as to recognize this or that structure for atoms and molecules. Now one begins to investigate how this structure might become, in part, more complex and, in part, more subtle in its composition, in order to gradually move from the molecular structure of physical bodies to the molecular structure of the ether. One would then be able to make the same kinds of calculations for etheric phenomena as one can make for physical phenomena. And actually, only that which had a valid scientific stamp on its anthroposophical passport should be allowed through the chain.

[ 15 ] The treatises—for there were such as well—written by the members of the Ketterl group did not, in fact, differ very greatly from the scientific treatises of the theoretical physicists of that time; the formulas, definitions, and so on did not represent phenomena in the spectrum or in the electromagnetic field for them, but rather phenomena in the etheric or astral field. There was nothing to be done. The entire association more or less dissolved, to some people’s satisfaction and to others’ displeasure. In the end, there was no longer any connection with these debaters from a scientific standpoint.

[ 16 ] But not all that different from these works by Ketterl were the endeavors of a man who played a major role in the Theosophical Society—a close friend of Blavatsky’s, a man who was always present when such matters were at hand—Dr. Hübbe-Schleiden, who, after all, had long been the editor of the *Sphinx*. He, too, was now entirely intent on using a scientific way of thinking to prove what he perceived as theosophical. I still remember how he picked me up at the train station in Hanover for the first time, because I was supposed to give a lecture there—the first anthroposophical lecture I ever gave in Hanover: a discussion of Goethe’s “Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily.” He then drove me out to his place; he lived a little way outside Hanover. It took about half an hour by tram. He immediately began explaining with tremendous enthusiasm how spiritual insights could not possibly exist for modern humanity unless they were proven in the way one is accustomed to finding in physics or other contemporary textbooks. Then he used his two index fingers, and for the entire half hour he kept doing this, using the tips of his index fingers to make movements intended to illustrate how the atoms move. “Yes, it has to work this way and that way, and then you realize: In one incarnation, the atoms move, and then, then the wave train continues through the spiritual worlds, and now you have to calculate how the wave train proceeds through the spiritual worlds. Then that changes, and then that is the next incarnation.” — It really felt as if one were in a lecture hall, where one had once been taught about the wave trains for red, yellow, blue, and green. The wave trains describing the soul’s passage through the various incarnations were based entirely on the same principle. Just as Newtonians—and modern physicists in general—calculate the rays of light as wave trains, so he calculated the soul’s passage through the various incarnations.

[ 17 ] He had a friend—who later became an exceptionally good, sensible, and loyal member of the Anthroposophical Society—to whom he had always sent his treatises; and this friend, among other qualities, also held these treatises in very high regard; but his sense of humor would always get the better of him, and once he told me that he had just received another thirty kilos of wisdom sent to him from Dr. Hübbe-Schleiden in Munich. These were, in fact, such thick letters that were always sent from Hanover to Munich.

[ 18 ] Well, I would say that a particular manifestation of this way of thinking could be seen in the debates that had long been waged within the Theosophical Society regarding the so-called “permanent atom.” This “permanent atom” was something appalling, yet it was taken with immense seriousness. For isn’t it true that those who felt the authority of modern science simply could not understand that something—anything, at least—that bore the language of modern science should not now find its way into Spiritual Science? So they said: Well, a person lives through one incarnation and then the next—certainly, the physical body decays, but a single atom remains, which then passes through the time between death and a new birth. And this one atom appears in the new incarnation. That is the permanent atom that passes through the incarnations.

[ 19 ] It seems rather amusing to you today, but you cannot possibly comprehend the great seriousness with which these matters were treated, especially in the early stages of the development of the anthroposophical movement, or how extraordinarily difficult it was to meet the demand: “What good is all this theosophy if it can’t be scientifically proven! No one will accept it if it can’t be scientifically proven.” — In that conversation on the streetcar, it was in fact decided: It must be presented in such a way that a college student with a solid education can understand theosophy just as he understands logic. That was my companion’s demand.

[ 20 ] Then I arrived at his house. He led me up to the attic. Now I would like to invite those who, in this final phase of the anthroposophical movement, are striving to combat atomism to reflect on what I found back then in Dr. Hübbe-Schleiden’s attic in Hanover. So we went up a narrow staircase, and up there in the attic—when one tells a story like this, one must of course keep saying that he was an extraordinarily amiable, kind, and also quite intelligent, that is, likable old gentleman—up there in the attic, there were huge atomic models. But they were made of wire and very complicated. One model always represented the atom of some physical substance: hydrogen or oxygen; the next model, which was even more complicated, represented the atom of the etheric; the third model, increasingly complex, was the atom of the astral.

[ 21 ] If you pick up certain books by one of the leaders of the Theosophical Society—Leadbeater’s books—you will find that such models are depicted in magnificent detail. I would also like to mention this as a fact—specifically as food for thought for those who are fighting against atomism within our ranks today—that this atomism was nowhere more prevalent than among those who, so to speak, joined our ranks from the Theosophical Society. And when younger members today, such as Dr. Kolisko or others at our research institute in Stuttgart, are fighting against the atom, it is worth recalling that certain people back then would not have known how to pass from one incarnation to the next if they had not had at least one permanent atom.

[ 22 ] This is an example of how so-called scientific thinking made its way into these circles with such strong authority. These people were certainly capable of thinking scientifically. They simply could not conceive that anything other than what was conceived scientifically could be valid. So, on this point, there was actually no understanding either. It was only as the second phase of the anthroposophical movement approached that, at least within those circles that had joined our ranks, this preoccupation with the atom gradually subsided, and people gradually shifted toward what continued to be cultivated within the anthroposophical movement. On the other hand, however, it must be said that those who did not concern themselves much with this pursuit of atomic theory—those to whom modern science was ultimately quite indifferent, who, as rootless souls, had simply been inspired by the Theosophical Movement—were, after all, more open-minded. And, for example, whenever I was in Munich, I was also able to give a more intimate lecture to a circle that gathered around Mrs. von Schewitsch, who was living in Munich at the time and had once been a close friend of Blavatsky’s. It was easier there because there was a genuine spiritual striving present.

[ 23 ] I do not wish to defend one group or criticize the other; I merely wish to mention how the anthroposophical movement dealt with these issues from one perspective or another. But just think: back then, the demand initially arose to justify, even within our own ranks and with the help of the scientific way of thinking prevalent at the time, what was being put forward from an anthroposophical perspective. It was, after all, even more moderate than what is being put forward from outside today. Many of you heard a lecture by Dr. Blümel today; I believe you understood his illuminating remarks very well and were left with a certain impression. But just imagine if someone had been sitting there who said: “Oh, come on, what he just explained—that’s none of my business. I don’t believe in it, I don’t accept any of it, and I don’t want to verify it.” — But another says: “Go ahead and see if these things are true; examine them with your intellect and with your soul’s faculties.” — “I don’t want to do that,” says the other. “I’m not concerned with that for now; whether it’s right or wrong, I’m not getting involved in it. But I’m calling on Dr. Blümel to go to a psychological laboratory, where I’ll examine him using my psychological methods to see if he’s a mathematician.”

[ 24 ] It is, of course, a sheet of metal—and a thoroughly rolled-out one at that. But this is exactly the same demand we face today from the outside world: the anthroposophical researcher is expected to enter a psychological laboratory to determine whether he has a right to make his assertions or arguments. It is exactly the same.

[ 25 ] These days, you can certainly spout nonsense—pure nonsense—and people don’t even notice it; even those who take offense don’t realize that it’s pure nonsense. They think it’s just malice or something like that. Because they simply do not have a mental image of someone somehow officially becoming a representative of science due to social circumstances and yet actually spouting nothing but nonsense. People do not have a mental image of that. That’s just how chaotic our intellectual life is.

[ 26 ] So the factors that must be taken into account when discussing the conditions of life within the anthroposophical movement must be derived entirely from contemporary cultural phenomena and cultural impulses. Such matters, as I discuss them here, must be understood by anyone who wishes to know the conditions of life within the anthroposophical movement.

[ 27 ] Well, undeterred by all of this, the most important human truths and the most important cosmic truths had to be brought to light during the first period. And my *The Secret Science* represents, so to speak, a compendium of what had been advocated up to that point within the anthroposophical movement. This has now been developed in a way about which I would like to say: It turned out the way it did solely because one never had an abstract will, but always a concrete one; because one never, so to speak, wanted more than what resulted from the pursuit of the facts.

[ 28 ] To illustrate this, I would like to mention just the following. Back then, right at the beginning of the anthroposophical movement, we founded a journal called “Luzifer-Gnosis.” At first it was called “Luzifer.” Then, after five or six issues had been published, a Viennese journal called “Gnosis” wanted to merge with it. I would like to mention the small detail that I simply wanted to express the external connection between these two journals by giving the newer one the title: Luzifer mit der Gnosis. Yes, Hübbe-Schleiden, for example, absolutely would not allow that, because he felt it would suggest that an unnatural union had come about: “Luzifer mit der Gnosis.” One could not say that. Well, I didn’t care. So we called it “Luzifer-Gnosis” and put a hyphen between them. People were certainly sharp back then, keeping a close eye on us!

[ 29 ] And so this magazine, *Luzifer-Gnosis*, was founded. Of course, we started with a very small number of subscribers, but the subscriber base has actually grown relatively quickly, and we have never really run a deficit, because we have always printed about as many copies as we could sell. And the distribution system was set up so that, once an issue had been written and printed, the copies were sent back to my own apartment in large mail packages. Dr. [Name] and I would affix the bands ourselves. I addressed the envelopes myself, and then we each took a laundry basket and carried the packages to the post office. We thought that worked out quite well. I had to write the texts and give the lectures, while Dr. [Name] organized the entire Anthroposophical Society—entirely without a secretary, because if she’d had a secretary, she would have had to work for him as well. So we did it all on our own, and we never wanted more than was actually possible, quite concretely. We took as many steps forward as the circumstances allowed. For example, we didn’t carry laundry baskets any larger than those under which we wouldn’t fall—well, almost. We simply made more trips as the number of subscribers grew.

[ 30 ] Well, after we had been engaged in this interesting endeavor for a while, “Luzifer-Gnosis” was taken over by the Altmann publishing house in Leipzig. And then “Luzifer-Gnosis” ceased publication—not because it had to shut down, since it had far more subscribers than it needed at the time, but because I no longer had time to write.

[ 31 ] The fact is that the demands of giving lectures—and, more generally, of managing the society intellectually—already took up a great deal of my time—the whole thing developed quite slowly and gradually—and this led to the cessation of publication of *Luzifer-Gnosis*. At first, there were long gaps between issues; the January issue came out in December, and then one year turned into a year and a half, and the subscribers made a terrible fuss. The publisher, Altmann, received a flood of complaints, so that I had no choice but to tell him: “Now we’ll just have to stop altogether and tell the subscribers that no matter how long they wait, they won’t be getting anything anymore!”

[ 32 ] Well, that was, of course, also part of the inner course of development: one never sought more than what arose from the concrete steps themselves. And this is part of the conditions for the existence of an intellectual society. Setting forth far-reaching ideals in words is the very worst thing for a spiritual society; drawing up programs is the very worst thing for a spiritual society. In this initial period, work was carried out in such a way that, by 1907, 1908, and 1909, the foundation was simply in place for a Spiritual Science that belonged in the modern era.

[ 33 ] Then came the second period, which had essentially moved beyond the debate with the natural sciences. The theologians had not yet made their voices heard at that time. They were so firmly entrenched in their positions that they paid no attention to the matter at all.

[ 34 ] Once this engagement with the natural sciences was over, it was possible to turn to the other task. That was the task of engaging with the Gospels, with Genesis, with Christian tradition in general, and with Christianity as such.

[ 35 ] This was, in fact, already outlined in my book that served as the starting point: *Christianity as a Mystical Fact*. For that was published as early as 1902. But the development, so to speak, of the anthroposophical understanding of Christianity was essentially the task of the second epoch, up until about 1914. During that time, lecture series on various aspects of the Christian tradition were held in Hamburg, Kassel, Berlin, Basel, Bern, Munich, and Stuttgart.

[ 36 ] For example, that which has so far only been outlined as “The Spiritual Guidance of the Individual and of Humanity” and so on was also developed during that time. That was, in essence, the period in which the Christian aspect of anthroposophy was developed in accordance with the historical Christian tradition.

[ 37 ] Then, during this period, I would say, came the first expansion of anthroposophy into the realm of the arts with the performances of the Mystery Dramas in Munich. All of this was, in fact, once again characterized by the desire to seek nothing more than what arose from the facts themselves.

[ 38 ] It was during this period that the events unfolded which led to the fact—which was, in truth, of no consequence to anthroposophy—of being expelled from the Theosophical Society; for, as I said last night, it made no difference to anthroposophy whether it was included or excluded, since it had been following its own path from the very beginning. Anyone who wanted to join in could do so. And from the very beginning, it did not concern itself—in an inner sense, nor in regard to its spiritual convictions—with what had emanated from the Theosophical Society. But external cooperation also became increasingly difficult.

[ 39 ] At first, there was certainly hope that, due to the circumstances—at least some of which I have described—the Theosophical Movement, which was united within the Theosophical Society, might actually become entirely anthroposophical. Among these circumstances, which made these hopes seem justified, was the fact that the particular way in which research was conducted within the Theosophical Society actually led to severe disappointments, especially for those people who possessed a higher degree of discernment. And I must say that when I came to London for the first and second time, I experienced how the leading figures were, at heart, people who approached one another with great skepticism, who certainly felt they were on uncertain ground, yet did not want to leave it because they did not know where to seek security.

[ 40 ] There were many disappointed people, filled with doubts, especially among the leaders of the Theosophical Society. And it is indeed a significant moment in the course that events have taken within the Theosophical Society—the remarkable transformation that Annie Besant underwent between, say, 1900 and 1907.

[ 41 ] At first, she showed a certain degree of tolerance. I don’t think she ever understood anything about what was presented as anthroposophy. I don’t think she understood any of it, but she accepted it; at first she even defended it against the rigid dogmatists—that is, she defended its right to exist. One simply cannot say anything else, for that is just the way it is.

[ 42 ] But now I must say something that I ask you to take very seriously, even within the Anthroposophical Society. In a spiritual society such as this—or as the Theosophical Society was—certain purely personal aspirations, as well as sympathies and antipathies colored purely by personal bias, are absolutely incompatible. Nevertheless, there are so many cases where someone actually wants this or that. He wants it from some deep-seated part of his being; for example, he wants to idolize a particular personality. He wants it from some deep-seated part of his being. He does not want to admit to himself what compels him to do so—the instinctual, perhaps even the cerebral-instinctual. But he now begins to weave an artificial astral aura around the personality he now wishes to idolize. “Advanced” is such a personality—“progressive.” If one then wants to say something specific, one might say: “Oh, she knows three or four of her past earthly lives; she even spoke to me about my own past earthly life.” Oh, she knows so much!—And now comes a purely spiritual interpretation of what, to use Nietzsche’s expression, is merely human—all-too-human. If one were to characterize and describe it as human—all too human, one would simply—well, perhaps not go so far as to say: “I’m crazy about that person”—that’s not necessary, after all—but one could certainly say: “I find her likable; I won’t let anyone argue with that—she’s just likable to me.” Then everything would be fine, even in an occult society. Of course, Max Seiling, for example, was certainly amusing in a certain sense, especially when he played the piano so restlessly; it was amusing to have tea with him and so on. Well, if only one had admitted that to oneself! If one had admitted: “I like that!”—it would have been wiser than idolizing him as they did in the Munich group.

[ 43 ] All these things, you see, are in direct contradiction to the way of life in such a society. But the one who fell prey to such things in an exemplary way was none other than Annie Besant. For example—and I’d like to base my account on facts—a certain name came up once. I had actually never paid much attention to the literature of the Theosophical Society; in fact, I had read very little of it, so I didn’t become familiar with the name Bhagavân Dâs until one day I was sent a thick manuscript, typed on a typewriter. The manuscript was laid out in two columns: the left column was typed, and the right column was left blank. Enclosed was a letter from Bhagavân Dâs—I believe it was around 1905—in which he wrote that he would like to engage in a discussion with various people about what he intended to reveal to the world in this manuscript.

[ 44 ] Well, the anthroposophical movement was already so widespread back then that I didn't get around to reading this manuscript right away. He said one should write whatever one had to add on the right-hand side and then send it back to him.

[ 45 ] I did get around a bit back then. There I also met other people to whom he had sent the manuscript. Then it became increasingly clear to me: Bhagavân Dâs was, well, a “truly occult person”—a person who drew from the depths of spirituality. That was roughly the opinion that those around Annie Besant were spreading about Bhagavân Dâs. Since he sent the material from India, was close to the Indian headquarters, and enjoyed such fame—for example, at the Amsterdam Congress, you heard people saying everywhere: “Bhagavân Dâs, Bhagavân Dâs”—it really was as if there were a well constantly overflowing with wisdom. So I took a look at the thing anyway. A horrendously amateurish jumble of Fichtean philosophy, Hegelian philosophy, Schopenhauerian philosophy—all sorts of things thrown together without the slightest understanding—and running through the whole thing, I’d say, like an endless melody of “self” and “not-self,” and then there was another exposition of Fichte and so on, followed again by “self” and “not-self.” So it was something truly appalling. I never paid any attention to it again. I didn’t write a single word on the other side. But isn’t it true that such things revealed how matters gradually veered into the realm of the personal? It is precisely for purely personal reasons that this figure, Bhagavân Dâs, was so idolized. You can still read his books today, and you’ll find that what I said is true. He did, after all, fabricate books, didn’t he? Such things revealed how the personal element was introduced into impulses that were supposed to be objective. And once that was there—which began in earnest around 1905—the downward slide was, of necessity, inevitable. The other development was, in essence, actually the consequence of that.

[ 46 ] I don’t mean to say that in just any society, if someone writes nonsense, the society is bound to collapse. But in intellectual societies, different laws—internal necessities—prevail. In particular, such behavior must not be practiced by the leading figures; otherwise, the downward slide is bound to occur, isn’t it? And that is exactly what happened.

[ 47 ] Then came the absurd story surrounding Olcott’s death, which unfolded at that time and which was, in fact, already the beginning of the end for the Theosophical Society: the so-called appointment by the Masters. But that could at least be explained away to the extent that one could say: Well, there are just a few people who, based on a particular principle, do bring absurd things into the Society. Then, however, came the matter with Leadbeater, which I do not wish to discuss now. And then came the identification of that boy, didn’t it, who was to be raised as the Christ or to become the Christ, and so on. And when this could not be accepted by those who did not want to go along with these absurdities, those people were simply expelled.

[ 48 ] Well, throughout all these events, the anthroposophical movement has followed its own straight course and, as a movement, has really not, at heart, concerned itself with these matters. Isn’t that right? If, say, in 1911 one was researching “The Spiritual Guidance of the Individual and of Humanity,” and on March 24 and March 25 absurd reports came from Adyar or elsewhere from the Theosophical Society, there was no reason on that March 25 to stop what one had been doing on the 24th. So the inner course of things was really not affected by this at all. This must indeed be firmly established. At that time, one really did not need to be interested in what was coming from this or that side of the leading figures of the Theosophical Society, just as it did not particularly surprise me in any way to hear recently that: Leadbeater—about whom you’ve certainly heard quite a bit—has now, in his old age, become an Old Catholic bishop, and one of his associates, who was also present at the Munich Congress back then, has even become an Old Catholic archbishop. Isn’t it true that one needn’t be at all surprised by these things? Things just didn’t go straight; instead, everything went sideways and askew. Why shouldn’t that happen, too? One didn’t really need to change one’s personal relationship with people all that much—I mean the immediate, day-to-day interaction. Then, two years ago, I believe it was, I gave a lecture in Amsterdam. After the lecture, one of those gentlemen—who had given a lecture at the Munich Congress in 1907—approached me with his usual friendliness. He looked exactly the same, except that he had since become an Old Catholic archbishop. He wasn’t wearing the traditional vestments, but it was definitely him!

[ 49 ] All of these are the things that took place in such a sphere of modern cultural life, where, on the other hand, the homeless souls were drawn there out of an inner necessity. One must not forget that within the movement—which must be characterized in this way—one could indeed find precisely those souls who strove most intensely for a connection between the human soul and the spiritual world. One cannot honestly describe the course of modern cultural life without truly bringing these contrasts to light. That is why I had to present these notes to you today, my dear friends, before I begin tomorrow with the description of our most recent period—and thus the actual conditions of life within the Anthroposophical Society.