The Rudolf Steiner Archive

4. Faust and the Mothers

based on a dramatic adaptation from Faust II: “The Dark Gallery.” “At the Imperial Court”

[ 1 ] I would like to base this evening’s reflections on the scenes we have just seen. What can be said in connection with these scenes will fit quite well into the course of our current reflections.

[ 2 ] I have spoken here on several occasions about the significant “Mothers” scene in the second part of Goethe’s Faust. This scene alone is one to which one can return again and again for a good reason: because, apart from the aesthetic value through which it fits into the poem, its profound content truly embodies a kind of culmination of modern intellectual life, One can easily say, when allowing this “Mothers” scene to sink in, that it encompasses a whole range of allusions that Goethe intended to make. It is drawn just as much from Goethe’s immediate spiritual experiences as it sheds light on profound insights that one simply must acknowledge in Goethe if one understands even to some extent what this scene means—in which Faust is offered by Mephistopheles the opportunity to descend into the realm of the Mothers. Let us consider that when Faust reappears—having come back up from the Mothers—the astrologer speaks of Faust as a priest, and that Faust now refers to himself as a priest. We must then see something significant in this transformation of who Faust was before into a priest. He has descended to the Mothers. A transformation has taken place within him. One need only consider—quite apart from everything else we know about the matter, and what we have had to say about it over the years—how the Greek poets, when speaking of the Mysteries, imply that the one who is initiated into the Mysteries comes to know the three World Mothers: Rhea, Demeter, and Proserpina. The three mothers, their essence—that which they truly are—were to be known through direct perception by those who were initiated into the Mysteries in Greece.

[ 3 ] If one considers the significant way in which Goethe speaks in this “Mothers” scene, and if one considers what he has unfold in the next scene, then one can no longer deny that Faust is indeed led into realms—realms that Goethe immediately conceived of as the realms of the mothers—into which the initiates of the Greek mysteries were led. This already suggests, however, that Goethe is referring to something of the utmost significance.

[ 4 ] Now consider this: the moment Mephistopheles mentions the word “mothers,” Faust shudders. And then Faust utters these meaningful words:

Mothers! Mothers! — It sounds so strange!

[ 5 ] The whole thing begins with Mephistopheles saying:

I am reluctant to uncover a greater mystery.

[ 6 ] So it really is a secret, a mystery—something that Goethe, in a way, felt it necessary to reveal to the world in this half-hidden, half-revealed manner, in connection with the development of his Faust.

[ 7 ] We must ask ourselves—and we can do so based on the reflections we have made over the years: What is actually supposed to happen to Faust at this very moment, when a higher mystery is to be revealed to him? Into what world is he actually being led?—The world into which he is being led, the world he is to enter, is the spiritual world that immediately adjoins our physical world.

[ 8 ] Now you will surely recall that, in the course of these reflections, I have just said that crossing the threshold into this immediately adjacent world must be considered with the utmost caution, precisely because between our world—which we perceive through the senses and comprehend through the intellect— and that world from which our sensory world arises, there is, as it were, a borderland—a realm in which one very easily falls prey to deception and illusion if one enters it without sufficient maturity and preparation. One might say: Fixed forms, fixed contours, and boundaries actually exist only in the world we perceive through our senses. In the world that adjoins this world of our senses—the supersensible world—there are no such fixed forms or fixed boundaries. — This is precisely what is so difficult for the materialistic mind of the present to grasp: that the moment one crosses the threshold, everything is in motion; that this world, which is given to our senses, stands out only as frozen forms from a world that is thoroughly in motion.

[ 9 ] Faust is now to be transported into this thoroughly turbulent world, which we call the imaginative world. But he is to be transported into this world by an external event—not gradually, in a careful, meditative manner, but by an external event. Mephistopheles—that is, the power of evil working its way into the physical world—is to transport him into this world.

[ 10 ] Now, one must take a very close look at this if one does not want to fall prey to misunderstandings in this field. You see, in the field of anthroposophy, we seek knowledge of the spiritual world. Even what is said in the book How to Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds or in similar books regarding the practice of entering the spiritual world does not go beyond teaching how to gain knowledge of that world. Here, of course, as far as the present time is concerned and the necessity of conveying these things to the world today, we must draw the line. If one were to go further, one would enter the realm that can be described as that of action in the supersensible world. That must, in a sense, be left to each individual. Once one finds the certainty of knowledge, then the action itself must be left to the individual. But this is not the case with what is to unfold between Faust and Mephistopheles. Faust is actually to bring the departed, Paris and Helen, back up; he is thus not merely to look into the spiritual world—he is, so to speak, not merely to be an initiate, but to become a magician, or rather, to perform magical acts. Indeed, the very way Goethe handles this scene reveals that he was thoroughly familiar with certain mysteries of the human soul. Faust’s state of consciousness is to be transformed. But at the same time, Faust is to be given the power to act on the basis of supersensible impulses.

[ 11 ] Mephisto, as such—as an Ahrimanic force, just as he stands opposed to Faust—belongs to this world in which we live with our senses, but as a supersensory being. He has, after all, been banished. He has no power over the Powers into which Faust is now to be transported. Those Powers do not really exist for him. Faust is to pass into another state of consciousness—that state of consciousness which perceives, beneath the foundation of our sensory world, the weaving and essence, the surging and becoming that never stands still and from which our sensory world rises. And Faust is to become acquainted with the forces that dwell there below.

[ 12 ] “Mothers”—this is a term that is not without significance for our entry into this world. Consider the connection between the word “mothers” and all that grows, all that comes into being. In the maternal, the physical-sensual is united with that which is not physical-sensual. Imagine the becoming of the human being—the physical becoming, the incarnation. You must create a mental image of a certain process that takes place through an interaction between the cosmos and the maternal principle before a union of the feminine and the masculine occurs. The physically developing human being prepares itself within the female being. We now consider this preparation in such a way that we focus only on the period up to the moment of fertilization—that is, before fertilization. It is a completely flawed, one-sided, materialistic mental image to believe that all the forces leading to the human embryo—the physical human embryo—are simply preformed within the woman. That is not the case; rather, cosmic, spherical forces are at work. The forces of the cosmos act within the woman. The human embryo is always the result of cosmic forces. What natural science—what scientific materialism—describes as an egg cell is, so to speak, merely produced on the mother’s soil, but is an image brought forth from the great world egg.

[ 13 ] Let us, then, consider this nascent human embryo before fertilization, and ask ourselves: What did the Greeks mean by their three mothers—Rhea, Demeter, and Proserpina? In these three mothers, they created mental images of the forces that act from within the cosmos to prepare the human embryo—but from that part of the cosmos that is not sensory, but supersensory. The mothers—Demeter, Rhea, and Proserpina—belonged to the supersensible world. No wonder Faust senses that a most unknown realm is hinting at itself to him when the word “mothers” is spoken.

[ 14 ] Consider what Faust is actually supposed to experience. If it were merely a matter of imaginative insights, he would simply need to be introduced to them in a meditative manner; but, as I said, he is to perform magical acts. For this to happen, the ordinary mind—the ordinary intellect through which a person perceives the sensory world—must cease to function. This intellect begins when incarnation in the physical body begins and ends with physical death. This intellect must be subdued and clouded. Faust is thus faced with the task of bringing this intellect to a halt. He is to be received, together with his soul, into another realm. This, of course, is something that is intended to have a significant impact on Faust’s development.

[ 15 ] From Mephisto’s perspective—how does the situation look? Isn’t it true that the fact that Mephisto is supposed to transport Faust into this other state of consciousness makes the situation dangerous? But in a sense, it also becomes highly uncomfortable for Mephisto; in a certain sense, it becomes dangerous for him as well. For what could happen? Either Faust enters this other state of consciousness, gets to know the other world from which he can conjure up higher powers, and returns with his full consciousness—in which case he outgrows Mephisto, for Faust comes to know a world in which Mephisto is not at home. Thus he has outgrown Mephisto. Or, if things turn out in the worst possible way, Faust’s mind would be clouded. Mephisto truly puts himself in a most awkward situation. But he must do something. He must give Faust the opportunity to fulfill his promise. He hopes that somehow the matter can be smoothed over, for he wants neither one thing nor the other. He does not want Faust to outgrow him, nor does he want Faust to be completely paralyzed.

[ 16 ] I ask you to consider all of this and then to bear in mind that Goethe intended to allude to all of this—that is, in this scene from Faust he truly wanted to point out to the world: there is a spiritual realm, and this is the way in which a person can relate to this supersensible realm. This is how things are connected.

[ 17 ] Knowledge of these things has, in fact, been largely lost in the fifth post-Atlantean epoch. Goethe, as I said, drew upon what had personally revealed itself to him during the great moments of spiritual insight. For Goethe personally, this entire relationship to the mothers came to life in his soul through his reading of Plutarch. Plutarch, the Greek writer whom Goethe read, speaks of mothers. One scene in particular in Plutarch seems to have made a deep impression on Goethe: The Romans are at war with the Carthaginians. Nicias is pro-Roman, and he wants to wrest the city of Engyion from the Carthaginians. For this reason, he is to be handed over to the Carthaginians. So he pretends to be mad and runs through the streets shouting: “The mothers, the mothers are chasing me!”—From this you can see that, in the time Plutarch describes, this connection to mothers was not associated with ordinary sensory understanding, but rather with a state of being in which that sensory understanding is absent. Undoubtedly, everything Goethe read in Plutarch inspired him to introduce the image and the idea of the mothers into Faust.

[ 18 ] Plutarch also mentions that the world has a triangular shape. Now, of course, one must create a mental image of things in such a way that this expression—that the world has a triangular shape—is not meant in a literal, three-dimensional sense, but rather that the spatial is merely a symbol for the non-spatial and the timeless. But since we live in space, spatial images must be used to represent the transcendent, the non-spatial, and the timeless.

[ 19 ] The world, then—as Plutarch describes it—is triangular. (A drawing is sketched.) This is the total world: at the center of this triangular world—Plutarch maintained—lies the field of truth. Now, in contrast to this total world, Plutarch distinguishes 183 worlds. 183 worlds, he says, are in a circle; they move all around it, with the tranquil realm of truth at the center. This tranquil realm of truth, he says, is separated by time from the 183 worlds that revolve around it: 60 on each side, one in each corner = 183. So if we take this Plutarchian image, we have conceived of the world in three parts: the cloud formation all around, the 183 worlds undulating and surging. This is at the same time the image of the mothers. The number 183 is given by Plutarch.

[ 20 ] So Plutarch, who in a certain sense mastered the wisdom of the mysteries, gives the curious number: 183 worlds. Let’s calculate how many worlds we get if we count correctly up to Plutarch’s world. Here’s how we have to calculate it:

First of all, the entire course of world events as a single world	1
For us, these world events are structured in such a way that we have fully formed worlds: Saturn, the Sun, the Moon—as you know, these are	3
But we structure each of these worlds—Saturn, the Sun, the Moon—in the same way that we structure the earthly realm. We divide earthly history into the Polar Age, the Hyperborean Age, then we have the Lemurian Age, the Atlantean Age, the Post-Atlantean Age, and so on: 7. There are 7 periods in each, for we distinguish the Indian, the Proto-Persian, the Chaldean-Egyptian, the Greco-Latin, and the present; two others will follow. If we take the number 49 for Saturn, the Sun, and the Moon, we have successive worlds on each that develop in this way.	49 49 49
Then, if we add the Earth—which is not yet a complete formation—to the three successive worlds, we have the following in Earth’s formation: the Polar Age: 7; the Hyperborean Age: 7; the Lemurian Age: 7; that makes 21. The Atlantean Age: 7	28
Let’s add that up:	179
Now we’re done with Atlantis. Plutarch lived in the 4th Age; so we still have to add	4
	193

[ 21 ] As you can see, if we apply our calculation and do the math correctly—taking into account the individual phases and the entire series of worlds as they have unfolded up to the fourth post-Atlantean period, during which Plutarch lived—one could truly say: this calculation yields 183 worlds.

[ 22 ] Furthermore, however, if we consider our Earth—on which we are still evolving, and regarding which we therefore cannot speak of a conclusion—and look up to Saturn, the Sun, and the Moon, we find there the mothers who merely expressed the Greek mysteries in a different form: Proserpina, Demeter, and Rhea. For all the forces that are in Saturn, the Sun, and the Moon continue to exert their influence, working into our time. And what are physical forces are always only the shadow, the reflection of the spiritual. Everything physical is always only the image of the spiritual.

[ 23 ] The Moon—if you set aside its outer, massive physical body and consider instead the forces and impulses within it—is, through these forces, simultaneously present in the Earth. The Moon’s essence is part of the Earth’s essence. You need only create a rough mental image of it. There is the Earth (a sketch is drawn), it has a stem, and the Moon is attached to it; the Earth rotates the Moon on this stem; the stem is simply not physical. And all that constitutes the Moon’s impulses is not only on the Moon, but this sphere permeates the Earth.

[ 24 ] Are there forces associated with the Moon? The Greeks regarded these forces as very mysterious, indeed quite mysterious. It is connected with all the vicissitudes of modern times that these forces have become apparent without their mysterious character having been preserved. If we consider these forces connected with the Moon—let us consider just this one—then we have one of the Mothers. What is this one of the Mothers? We will be able to best approach what this one of the Mothers is in the following way.

[ 25 ] To illustrate this, take any river—let’s say, the Rhine. What, exactly, is the Rhine? Anyone who thinks about it—as I’ve mentioned here before—can’t really say, “That is the Rhine.” — We refer to the river as the Rhine. But what is the Rhine, in reality, when we walk along it and look at it? Is the water the Rhine? Well, that water will soon be gone and something else will take its place; it flows into the North Sea and is replaced by new water—it is constantly changing. What is the Rhine? Is the Rhine the channel, the riverbed? Again, no one thinks of that. If the water weren’t there, no one would think of it as the Rhine. Actually, when you use the word “Rhine,” you don’t use it for something that is actually there, but for something that is constantly changing—yet, in a certain sense, does not change. If you have a mental image of the situation like this (a diagram is drawn), assuming that this is the Rhine and this is the water flowing in it: well, this water evaporates at some point and then comes back down again. If you consider all rivers as belonging together, you must have a mental image of what happens: it evaporates, then comes back down. In a certain sense, the water that flows from the source to the mouth comes, in turn, from the same reserves of water that moves up and down; the water cycle takes place there. It’s just that this water fragments and spreads out into the entire surrounding area. Of course, you cannot track every single drop, but one must regard the water that belongs to the earth as a single entity. The question of “juvenile water” does not come into play here. Such is the nature of water.

[ 26 ] Something similar could also be done with air. But something similar can be done with something else entirely. If you have a telegraph station here and (as shown in the diagram) another telegraph station there, you know that one connection is made only by a wire; the other is established through the entire Earth, because the current flows into the Earth. Here: inside is the grounding plate. The entire current flows through the Earth.

[ 27 ] If you create a mental image of these two things: the water flowing, spreading out, and forming a cycle; and if you create a mental image, on the other hand, of electricity spreading out into the earth—you have two opposing things; you have a dual, oppositely essential nature. I am only hinting at this here. You can piece this together from any elementary physics textbook. But this leads us, in a sense, to see in electricity the counterpart—the subterranean counterpart—to what takes place above ground in the water cycle. |

[ 28 ] What reigns there beneath the earth as an electrical entity is, in fact, a residual lunar impulse. It does not actually belong to the Earth at all. It is a residual lunar impulse, and the Greeks referred to it as such. The Greeks were still aware of the connection between this force, which is distributed throughout the entire Earth, and the forces of procreation—for such a connection does indeed exist—as well as the forces of growth and flourishing. That was one of the Mothers. Now you can imagine: all these intuitions about these great connections are not merely theoretical for Faust; rather, he is to enter into this realm and imbue himself with these impulses. In the Greek mysteries, however, this force—alongside the other two mothers—was revealed above all to those about to be initiated. The Greeks kept everything related to electricity shrouded in mystery. Therein lies the decadence of the Earth’s future—which I have already spoken of from another perspective—namely, that these forces are no longer held sacred or shrouded in mystery, but are coming to light. One emerged during the fifth post-Atlantean epoch: electricity. The others will emerge during the sixth and seventh periods, amidst the decadence.

[ 29 ] Even in the decadent modern secret societies, all of this belongs to the things that conservative members do not wish to discuss. Goethe rightly deemed it appropriate to speak of these matters in the manner in which he was already able to speak of them at that time. But at the same time, here you have one of Goethe’s passages from which you can see that the great poet does not write like many others who also write poetry; rather, every word is precisely crafted and firmly placed in its proper place. Just think: mothers are thus related to electricity. Goethe is among those who treat these matters with true objectivity:

You’ll soon realize what a treasure he is!
The key will sense the right place,
Follow it down; it will lead you to the mothers.

[ 30 ] Faust (shuddering):

To the mothers! It always hits me like a blow!

[ 31 ] As if he were struck by an electric shock. Goethe uses the word “blow” quite deliberately; it is not just some random word, just as nothing in this scene—among the things that actually matter—is there by chance.

[ 32 ] So Mephisto gives Faust the image that serves as a model for what he is to find there—the impulses of the 183 worlds. This image already has the intended effect on Faust’s soul, for Faust has gone through many things that bring him close to the spiritual worlds. That is why these things already have an effect on him.

[ 33 ] That is what I wanted to explore primarily today: that Goethe intends to explore the most profound aspects in this “Mothers” scene. From this, however, you can already see from which worlds—from other realms of consciousness—Faust must bring Helena and Paris. Because Goethe presented something so profound, the language in these scenes is truly different from what it might seem at first glance. What Faust now brings up from this world—the one I have hinted at to you—is also seen by the others, who have gathered for a kind of drama. But how do they see it? It is half suggested to them. Who suggests it? The astrologer. That is why he was chosen as the astrologer. His words possess suggestive power. This has also been clearly expressed. These astrologers had already internalized the art of suggestion—not the best kind, but one that was Ahrimanic. What, then, is our astrologer actually doing as he stands there, and what of this court, which created a mental image of you—well, not particularly intelligent, if I may say so? What, then, is the astrologer actually doing among this court? He suggests to them what is necessary so that what rises up as a special world through Faust’s transformed consciousness may become present to the others. Do you recall what I once described to you here, what I once said: It can be demonstrated today that the words one speaks reveal their vibration in certain substances. — I wanted to show that even today one can experimentally elucidate the nature of the incantation scenes. From the incense mist of the corresponding words, what Faust brings forth into his consciousness from an entirely different world truly takes shape. But for the court society, this becomes present—it is truly seen—through the astrologer’s addition of the suggestive element. What does the astrologer do? He breathes it in; he is the one who breathes it into each ear of the court society. But: such whisperings are the devil’s rhetoric. Thus, as the word is spoken:

Whispers are the devil's rhetoric,

[ 34 ] refers to the devilish art of the astrologer. That is one meaning of this sentence. The other, which relates directly to the scene, is this: the devil himself is sitting inside the prompter’s box, blowing into it.

[ 35 ] Here you have the archetype of such a line with an absolute double meaning. From a purely theatrical perspective: the devil himself is sitting in the prompter’s box and blowing! But in reality: the astrologer is pulling the court’s leg! And that is a devilish art, just as he practices it.

[ 36 ] So, if you approach this correctly, you will find double meanings in many of the sentences spoken here. Goethe uses this double meaning because he wants to depict something that really happens, and yet does not really happen in the same sense that the material and clumsy actually happens. It can certainly be staged, but it is not real in the sensory sense. Yet Goethe wanted to depict something that has truly played a role—a driving force—in recent history, something that has actually happened. Goethe did not merely mean that something like this had once been staged; rather, he meant that these impulses have already flowed into recent history and are present within it. That has an effect. He wanted to portray a reality. He wanted, so to speak, to say: In what has developed since the 16th century, the devil has already played a part. — And if you take the scene seriously in this sense, then you have, in turn, the other side of the matter: Goethe’s insight into the involvement of supersensible beings in historical events. And in the conclusion, you have what I have often hinted at: that Faust is not yet ready to bring the matter to a close, that he has not been given the proper opportunity to enter the other world, but rather through Mephistopheles’ power. This is the source of what constitutes the very conclusion of the scene.

[ 37 ] But I will return to these points tomorrow to continue our discussion. As you can see, however, it is precisely what Goethe was trying to say that can clarify many things for us—things that are very much in line with the course of our discussion so far.