The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Welcome, all who are present here! In this second lecture I would like you to consider that I had assumed last night, to hearing Dr Kolisko's lecture today, and not present it myself. Due to this it wasn't possible in this short time to quite sort out what I would say and I can only hope, as a whole, to roughly cover the details which Dr Kolisko wanted to convey to you.

When from the anthroposophical viewpoint the relationship of the animal world to the human world is spoken about, then it must be pointed out in particular how the present anthroposophical ideas relate historically to the Goethean world view—I have mentioned this twice here at least. The theme in question today, specifically the very first of Goethe's accomplishments in the natural scientific area, will come under scrutiny, namely in his treatise entitled: “Human beings, like the animals, are attributed with an intermaxillary jawbone in the upper jaw.” One needs to keep all the relationships in view when considering how Goethe came to this treatise on the basis of some anatomical and physiological studies and on which grounds of his approach to embryological studies he attributed this to.

During the time when Goethe, already as a young student and later as a friend who to a certain extent had made the Jena University Institute dependent on him, lived with these problems to which he was exposed, namely the problem of what the actual difference could be between human beings and animals. He noticed how people all around him were focused on discovering the difference within the form, within the human and animal morphology, of the differentiation between people, who should be, to some degree, the crown of creation, and the animal world. Also regarding the circumstances where the intermaxillary, which is clearly detached in all animals from any other jaw bone but which is not found in the human being as a separated bone, made people believe that this part of the head's development gave the decisive difference between humans and animals. Goethe didn't agree. He was of the opinion that man and animal were created according to their entire organisation in the same way, therefore such a detail could not indicate a differentiation. In addition, the intermaxillary bone in mature people grow together, so Goethe tried to show how this phenomenon relied only on later development because in the embryonic stage, human beings displayed the same relationship in their upper intermaxillary bone as in animals.

You only have to follow the enthusiasm with which Goethe pointed out to how lucky he was, that the human being actually has the intermaxillary jaw bone in common with the animals, and how out of the whole big picture of the morphology, no decisive difference between the human being and the animal could be found in a single detail. From the kind of limitation of man and animal as you find everywhere in the 18th Century, it could not be stated in this way—also for Anthroposophy it could not be stated in this way. What Goethe accepted was this: By the animal organisation developing up into the human organisation, details already in the animal organ formation were transformed and then gradually through its evolution created the possibility to make space for what is within man, and in such a way reveal the transformed animalistic organisation in the totality of man. Goethe thought only about the metamorphosed animal organisation within the human and not of an autonomously separated human morphology.

This, I might add, needs to be established as the foundation in the search for the differentiation, in the anthroposophical sense, between animal and human organisms. If an organisation itself, in its forms, only depends on the animal and the human metamorphosis, then one has to, if you are looking for differentiation, primarily watch the course of life of a person and of an animal, and gradually observe how the human being unfolds out of the functioning of his organs, and how an animal takes on form through his organs. In brief, one needs to search more from biological than from morphological regions.

Now, one can prepare, in a specific way, how to discover the understanding through biological differences, by finding a foundation in which the animal functions originate and which appears in both man and animal, and this relates to the sense organs. The sense organs, or better said, the functions of the sense organs are more or less vital in everything which takes place in the animal and human organisms. We may assume that in the simple nutritional processes in the lower animals, in the purely digestive processes, a function of a primitive sense happens, which, we say, is where taste experiences for instance happen more or less as a purely chemical function of metabolism. These things become increasingly differentiated the further one ascends the animal row, right up to the human being. We won't get anywhere if we go straight to the animal organisation to find something which does not have a sensory life. Certainly one could say: what for instance do the senses have to do with the development of the lymph and blood?

Today already there is talk from the non-anthroposophical scientists about subconscious processes in the human psyche, and as a result we will for the sake of brevity only hint at it, and not let it appear as something completely unauthorised when I say: What takes place in the mouth and palate as a taste experience, what takes place in the process and function with for instance the ptyalin, pepsin and so on, how can it not also take part in the subconscious? Why should—I say this as a kind of postulation—the experience of taste not continue through the entire organism and why should the subconscious experience of taste not happen parallel to the lymph and blood development in all organ processes? Through this we can follow the biological side of the human and animal organisations by looking at their sensory life.

The sense life unfolds—as I have indicated years ago how it is partially a fact of outer science—not only in the usually claimed five senses, but in a clear discernible number of twelve human senses. Now, we are only talking about human beings. For those who want to understand if one could speak about twelve senses in the same way as for five or six—from seeing, hearing smelling, tasting, feeling or touch—for those it is valid that one can speak for instance about the sense of balance, which we recognise inwardly whether we stand on two feet or only one, whether we move our arms in one way or the other, and so on. By our position as humans in the world, we are in equilibrium. This equilibrium we accept, although from a much duller position than that of our perceiving through the senses about what takes place in the process of seeing; so that we may speak about the sense of equilibrium as we speak about a sense of seeing. Let us be clear about this. When we speak about the sense of equilibrium we turn ourselves more towards our own organisation, we perceive inwardly, while with our eyes we look outwardly. However, this experience of equilibrium fosters its basis as a sense perceptible function. In the same way we can expand the number of senses on the other side. When we merely hear something, the function of the human organism is really different to when we, as it were, hear directly through the ear, and then explore what becomes indirectly perceptible to us, through speech. When we follow the words of others with inner understanding it doesn't involve mere judgement, but a process of judgement comes out of a perceptive process, a sense process; so we need to speak about it as having a sense of speech—or a sense of language, a sense of the word—just as we have a sense of hearing. In other words, we must, if we consider the words more anatomically-physiologically, presuppose there is within the human organization a special (sensory) organization which corresponds to the hearing of what had been spoken as well as hearing inarticulate sounds. We must assume a special organisation for the sense of speech, which is quite similar to a sensory organisation, for example the organisation of sight or of hearing.

We may also, when we go to work without prejudice, not say: we get to know that a person is standing in front of us, when we see there is something in the external space shaped like a nose, like two eyes and so on, and through an analogy conclude that a person is stuck in there, because we see that in us there is also a person, revealed outwardly through a nose, eyes and so on. Such an unconscious conclusion in reality doesn't form the basis; it is rather the direct entry into others which corresponds to something special within them which can be compared to a sensory organisation, so that we can speak about a sense of Self (Ichsinn). When we look through the functioning of people in this unprejudiced way, then we need to, with the same authorization with which we spoke about the sense of hearing, of taste and so on, speak about the organisation of perception for words, about an organisation of perception for thoughts, for an organisation of the Self—not for one's own self, because for one own Self it is dependent on something quite different. Further, we must speak about a sense of movement, because it is something quite different, whether we call it movement or rest. Likewise, we must speak about a sense of life—ordinary science already speaks partly about that.

When we determine the number of sense organisations, we arrive at twelve human senses. Of these, several are inner senses, because we involve the inner organism—how we feel and experience the sense or equilibrium, sense of movement and so on—while observing it. However, qualitatively the experience with observation of the inner organization remains the same for the seeing, hearing or taste processes. It is important to see things only in the right context.

If the starting point is from a human angle of a complete physiology of the senses then certain biological phenomena from the human realm, on the one side, and the animal realm on the other, reveal a particular meaning. This meaning can exist even if you admit to everything which has been presented by recent research, even from Haeckel, regarding the morphological and also physiological human organisation in relationship to that of the animal. Here the most impossible misunderstandings come about. It is believed, for instance, that Anthroposophy must oppose Haeckel, simply on the grounds that it rises from mere observation through the senses to the empirical observations of the spiritual; it is believed that Anthroposophy must from this basis change Haeckelism. No!—What needs to be changed in Haeckelism must be changed out of natural scientific methodology, so Anthroposophy doesn't need to argue here because one can have discussions, as scientific researchers, with Haeckel.

What Anthroposophy has to offer refers to quite other areas. It is correct to emphasize that by counting the bones of the higher animals, there's no differentiation to the number in humans. The same goes for the muscles. This gives no differentiation between human and animal organisations. If, however, we proceed biologically, we discover real differentiation. We find that we can attribute a special value to the essential way the human organism is placed differently in the cosmos to the animals. When we observe the higher animals, we have to admit that their essential aspect is that the axis of their backbone is parallel to the earth's surface while by contrast, humans in the course of their life make their horizontal spinal axis vertical, which means an important function in the life of humans are to stand upright.—I know objections can be raised: there are some animals which have more or less of a vertical spinal axis. This is not the salient point as to how it is excluded through outer morphology, but how the entire organisation is adjusted. We will also see how with certain animal, bird types or even mammals, where the spine can be brought into more or less of a vertical position, a kind of degenerative effect appears in their total predisposition, while with people there is already a predisposition for the spine to be vertical.

When I mentioned this some years ago in a lecture in Munich, a man educated in natural science approached me, who I could naturally understand quite well, and said: ‘When we sleep, we do have a horizontal spine.’—This does not matter, I replied, but what matters is in the relationship to the situation, let's say, of the bone in the leg or foot to the rest of the bodily structure and to the whole cosmic relationship of mankind, and how this is processed by the human or by the animal. Indeed, the human's spine is horizontal during sleep, but this position is outward; inwardly the human is so dynamically organized that he can bring himself into a condition of equilibrium where the spine is vertical. When animals come to such a state of equilibrium, they are degenerating in a certain sense, or they tend towards developing some human-like functions and as a result prove, what I want to present now.

We can say that by the human being purely functionally, out of the total dynamic of his being in the course of his first year of life, forming his spinal axis vertically, he has brought himself into another relationship of equilibrium cosmically than the animal. However, every being is created out of the cosmic totality, and one can say, and adapt—I don't want to enter further into this.

When we track the formation of single bones, for example the ribs or head bones further, then we also gain the morphological possibility of how the formation of ribs or head bones in a man or dog adapt to the vertical or horizontal spine. Because the human being finds himself in a vertical position he lives in contrast to the animal, who stands on four legs, in quite a different state of equilibrium, in quite a different cosmic relationship.

Now we must try to clarify the problem from the other side, what actually happens in the sense's processes in a person and what happens to him with reference to the sensory process. Due to our limited time I wish to speak only with indications, but this can also be translated into a completely precise biological-physiological terminology.

Let's take the process of seeing. We could create divisions into what the specific function of the organ of sight is, and into what happens further as a continuation within the physical; one could call it an analogy of the optical nerve of the eye which loses itself in the inner nervous system. Thus, we could differentiate, on the one side, the process of sight itself, and then everything connected to it in the totality of experience. In the direct present process of vision there is also the imminence of the image perceptibility; when we look at something then we don't separate the imagery from the vision. Turning our eyes away from what we looked at, we then retain a kind or imaginative remnant which clearly shows a relationship with the vision's observation. Whoever can really analyse this will see the differences between the imagined remnant obtained through the organ of vision as opposed to what happens with the hearing process. We have within us an experience of the process of sight, one could call it, in a dualistic way. First being more turned to what actually is observed through the senses and then turning again to the remnant within imagination which remains more or less as a manifested memory.

Let's take everything that lives in the inner image perceptibility of human beings, which depends on the five senses. The one which is the most dependable is of course the process of sight. Only a ninth of what is found through vision, is found through the hearing process. When we consider soul life, there is even less found in it than the seeing and hearing processes, and so on. We know, that in addition to the image perceptibility which leads to lasting memory, it also plays a role but in reality, less than with the seeing and hearing processes.

Now we can pose the question: Is there also for the more hidden senses, like the sense of equilibrium or sense of movement, this duality which is found in the observation perceptibility and image perceptibility? With a truly unbiased physiology and psychology the duality is there for instance in the sense of equilibrium, but the connection is seldom noticed. In the lectures I've just given, I spoke about the mathematical geometric relation of finding oneself upright in relationship to space. We construct relationships to space. What is it actually, that we are doing here? It is connected to the entire person just as it is when with the process of sight, the observed element is clearly separated from the image perceptibility, because we keep the imagination inside. We don't observe the colour outwardly but we experience the qualitative aspect of the colour, of colour tones, and what lives as a feeling, a feeling I have towards warm or cold colours strongly within myself.

We can now say the following: ‘I want to instantly see a show of all the soul images which I've acquired through my life, which I can see through my eyes.’ We would then enter into a visual system of the soul. We would, without having outer sight, rise inwardly into a kind of reconstruction of the visual process. If you apply this same kind of consideration to the sense of equilibrium, you obtain everything which you have experienced through the sense of equilibrium in your own organism, rising within, which corresponds to the geometry in outer life.¹ Mathematic and mechanistic laws have not been discovered by outer experience. Mathematic and mechanistic laws have been acquired though inward construction. If you want to recall mechanistic laws you have to access them through the image perceptibility of your sense of equilibrium. The entire human being becomes a sense organ and thus inwardly creates the other pole of what had been observed. For instance, we create mathematics and we believe we have a purely a-priori science. However, mathematics is no pure a-priori science. We don't notice that what we are experiencing as a sense of balance is what we translate into mathematical geometric imagination, like the observation through sight is translated into the imagination of the observed sight. Without noticing the bridge, we have created the sense of balance through maths or through mechanics.

When you think about this, you would understand the innermost relationship of the human organism with its position of equilibrium in the cosmos. Then you could say to yourself: With the animal, which stands on its four legs and which has been given its equilibrium position and sense of equilibrium, the animal must experience equilibrium in quite a different way within itself than a person does mathematically. We find the mathematical simply as a result of us being placed in the cosmos.

We talk about three dimensions because we are positioned in three dimensions in the cosmos. However, the vertical dimension we have only achieved in the course of life. We have placed ourselves into the vertical position. What we have experienced in our earliest childhood reflects later in us as mathematics; it only doesn't develop as quickly as the seeing process. The reflection of the experience of equilibrium goes on in the course of life. In childhood we have a very strong experience of the sense of equilibrium, when we go over from crawling to walking and standing. This reflects in later life and becomes visible as mathematics and mechanics. We often take mathematics as something woven out of ourselves. This is not so. It comes out of the observation of our organism. Why then are there certain thoughts which can be related to the cosmos, which then can create an entire construction in thought, a ‘thought-edifice?’ That is merely a result of human beings standing within the cosmos. When we now compare the position of equilibrium between the animal, in his relation to the cosmos, with that of the human being, then we could say: We have with the animal the bondage with the earth organisation and we have with the human being the uprightness, being ‘lifted-out’ of the earth organisation. What we express as individualized thoughts result from our human organisation having an individual position of equilibrium.

Thus, this actual act of placing oneself in the cosmos is not something which emerges from the organism itself as is found with the animals, but it is something formed within the human organism which is only achieved in the course of the first seven years of life, and goes right into the organs. As a result, we have this polarity between animals and humans that on the one hand humans stand upright and walk vertically. This is quite a cosmic position which lives in the human being, to which everything now has to adapt, and which distinguishes it from the animal. On the other hand, thoughts appear in the soul, thoughts which go beyond the sensual perception, beyond what is sensed with the five senses, extricating themselves from that. Just as the human being frees itself in its cosmic position from the earth, so the human thoughts extricate themselves from the bondage of the sense world, they become free in a certain way.

We must—for anthroposophy it is a definite but here I want to present it more as a hypothesis—we must see in the human being, through his upright spinal axis, a certain position of equilibrium which separates him from animals, and on the other hand we must regard thoughts of a particular imaginative form, as specifically human. Whoever examines such things from an Anthroposophic viewpoint—it could still become more or less relevant—will see how the human being's particular development of his sense of equilibrium and sense of movement achieve more towards a free system of thought than the case is through the eyes and ears, and we also gain insight of the human being requiring an inner organisation for this. The human being simply has an organisation within itself which is not yet found in the animal—this can also be proven materially—which simply supports ideas which are torn free from the earth's bondage to which the animal is bound, but which is limited by the special equilibrium position in humans. Therefore we can say: by the human standing upright, he has created an organ for abstract thinking.

So we have with the upright related organisation of human organs a different situation to those in the animals, which have organs too. Through the upright position the nerves and blood organisation work in a different way under the influence of the equilibrium position so that in the human something appears which can't be brought about in the animal. We discover this relationship really in the physical organization of humans and not as mere dynamism. This is of fundamental importance. Just imagine what happens in the evolution of an organization as a result of a change in their position of equilibrium, how it appears in the animal, how it is in the human being, what changes there for instance with reference to the upper and lower leg, hands and so on. Just imagine what it means that the human being is a two-hander and not a four-footer. The human being is fitted out with the same forms as the animal but they are in different positions and as a result are changed, metamorphosed forms. This can also simply be anatomically demonstrated if the necessary tools and experimental methods qualify. We are looking for such tools and experimental methods in our institute in Stuttgart. In any case before these methods can be empirically found externally, the differences need to be arrived at firstly through imaginative observation. Therefore, Anthroposophy is not useless with reference to research into the finer areas of the human, animal and plant forms, because science can't discover these things through imagination. Once they are discovered they can be verified by science.

When one looks at how another position of equilibrium reorganises the organs, one also finds that certain organs are changed in such a way that they become the human organ of speech and the organism becomes capable of creating speech.

Through this you have gained an insight into the extraordinary organisation of mankind, which has simply come about because of it being an upright being, having repercussions right into matter. Also in relation to the physiological organ of speech it has contributed—where an outer morphological distinction between man and animal can be determined—which after all shows the difference between man and animal biologically.

Here you have a few suggestions which can indicate the way how, in an outer lay method, research may be done which can also be actually researched scientifically. What I wanted to bring I could only briefly sketch here. However, continue to think about these ideas and the results will actually be a way for science to research the differentiations between the animal and human organisations in a biological relationship.

• 1. In the next few sentences some word-gaps followed in the stenographic text. The omissions were filled in with the help of the lectures of Dr Steiner on the 16th March 1921, 29 September, 1 and 3 October 1920 in GA 322

My dear venerated friends! It is always difficult when you have a serious scientific conscience to translate the traditional expression of “Logos” into some or other younger language. We usually employ “Word” to translate “Logos” as is commonly found in the Bible. However, when we have the word “Logic” in a sentence we don't use “Word” but rather think about “Thought,” as it operates in the human individual and its laws. Yet when we speak about “philology” we are aware that we are developing a science which is derived from words. I would like to say: what we have today in the word “Logos” is basically in everything which is philosophic. When we speak about “philosophy”, we can, even though defined as experience in relation to the Logos, sense how a reflection of these undetermined experiences are contained in all that we feel in “philosophy”.

Philosophy implies that the words—which no doubt came into question when philosophy was created, that only words were implied—indicate a certain inner personal experience; the word philosophy points to a connection of the Logos to “Sophia”; one could call it a particular, if not personal, general interest. The word philosophy is less directly referred to as possessing a scientific nature but rather an inner relationship to the wisdom filled scientific content. Because our feeling regarding philosophy is not as sure as in those cases when philosophy, on the one hand was included with, I'd rather not call it science, but scientific aims, and on the other hand with something which points to inner human relationships; so we have today an extraordinarily undefined experience when we speak about philosophy or involve ourselves with philosophy. This vague experience is extremely difficult to lift out of the depth of our consciousness if we try to do it through mere dialectical or external definitions, without trying to enter into the personal experience which ran its course in the consequential development. To such an examination the present will produce something special.

If we look back a few decades at people in central Europe, the involvement they were looking for with philosophy was quite a different experience, in central Europe, as it is today in the second decade of the twentieth century, where we basically have lived through so much, not only externally in the physical but also spiritually—one can quietly declare this—than what had been experienced for centuries. When one looks back over the experiences, of—if I may use a pedantic and philistine expression—the philosophic zealot of the fifties, sixties and seventies of the nineteenth century, perhaps even later, which the central Europeans could have, it is essentially as follows. Looking at the time of German philosophy's blossoming, you look back at the great philosophic era of the Fichtes, Schellings, and Hegels; surrounding you there had been a world of the educated and the scholars, a world which this philosophic era thoroughly dismisses and which in the rising scientific world view sees what should be taking the place of the earlier philosophic observations. One admires the magnitude of the elevation of thoughts found in a Schelling, one admires the energy and force of Fichte's development of thoughts, one can perhaps also develop a feeling for the pure comprehensive, insightful thoughts of Hegel, but one would more or less consider this classical time of German philosophy as something subdued.

Besides this is the endeavour to develop something out of science which should present a general world view, right from the striving of the “power/force and matter/substance people,” to those who carefully strive to find a philosophic world view out of natural scientific concepts, but who lean towards the former idealistic philosophy. There were all kinds of thoughts and research in this area.

A third kind of thinker appeared in this sphere, who couldn't go along with the purely scientifically based world view but could on the other hand also not dive into solid thought of the Hegel type. For them a big question came about: How can a person create something within his thoughts, which originate in himself, and place this in an objective relationship to the outer world?—There were epistemologists of different nuances who agreed with the call “Back to Kant”, but this way to Kant was aimed in the most varied ways; there were sharp-witted thinkers like Liebman, Volkelt and so on, who basically remained within the epistemological and didn't get to the question: How could someone take the content of his thoughts and imaginative nature from within himself and find a bridge to a trans-subjective reality existing outside human reality?

What I'm sketching for you now as a situation in which the philosophic zealots found themselves in the last third of the nineteenth Century, which didn't lead to any kind of solution. This was to a certain extent in the middle of some or other drama during a time-consuming work of art, to which no finality had been found. These efforts more or less petered out into nothing definite. The efforts ran into a large number of questions and overall, basically failed to acquire the courage to develop a striving for solutions regarding these questions.

Today the situation in the entire world of philosophy is such that one can't sketch it in the same way as I've done for the situation in the last third of the nineteenth century, in its effort to determine reality. Today philosophic viewpoints have appeared which, I might say, have risen out of quite different foundations, and which make it possible for us to characterise it in quite a different way. Today, if we wish to characterise the philosophic situation, our glance which we have homed in the second half of the twentieth century comes clearly before our soul eyes, namely such sharply differentiated philosophic viewpoints of the West, of central Europe and Eastern Europe. Today things appear in quite a different way which not long ago flowed through our experience of the philosophical approach to be found in three names: Herbert Spencer—Hegel—Vladimir Soloviev. By placing these three personalities in front of us we have the representatives who can epitomise our philosophic character of today. Inwardly this had to some extent already been the case for some time, but these characteristics of the philosophic situation only appear today before the eyes of our souls.

Let's look at the West: Herbert Spencer. If I want to be thorough I would have to give an outline of the entire course of philosophic development, how it went from Bacon, Locke over Mill to Spencer, but this can't be my task today. In Herbert Spencer we meet a personality who wanted to base his philosophy on a pure system of concepts, as is determined in natural science. We find in Spencer a personality who totally agrees with science and out of this agreement arrives at a conclusion: ‘This is the way in which all philosophic thought in the world must be won by natural science.’ So we see how Spencer searched in science to determine certain steps to understand concepts, like for example how matter is constantly contracting and expanding, differentiating and consolidating. He saw this for instance in plants, how the leaves spread out and how they drew together in the seed, and he tried to translate such concepts into clear scientific forms with which to create his world view. He even tried to think about the human community, the social organism, only in such a way in which his thoughts would be analogous to the natural organism. Here he suddenly became cornered.

The natural human organism is connected to the confluence of everything relating to it from the surrounding world, through observations, through imagination and so on. Every single organism is bound to what it can develop under the influence of the nervous or sensory system (sensorium). In the human community organism Herbert Spencer couldn't find a sensorium, no kind of centralised nervous system. For this reason, he constructed a kind of community organism, totally based on science, as the crown of his philosophic structure.

What lay ahead for the West with this? It meant that scientific thought could reach its fully entitled, one-sided development. What lay ahead was the finest observational results and experimental talents developing out of folk talents. What came out of it was interest created to observe the world in its outer sensory reality into the smallest detail, without becoming impatient and wanting to rise out of it to some encompassing concepts. What came out of it was also a tendency to remain within this outer sense-world of facts. There was what I could call, a kind of fear of rising up to one encompassing amalgamation. Because they could do nothing else but exist in what the sense world presented to them, simply being pushed directly into the senses here in the West, there appeared the belief that the entire spiritual world should be handed over to the singular faiths of individuals, and that these beliefs should develop free from all scientific influences. Religious content was not to be touched by scientific exploration. So we see with Herbert Spencer, who in his way took up the scientific way of thought consequentially right into sociology, earnestly separated, on the one hand, from science, which would proceed scientifically, and on the other hand with a spiritual content for people who wanted nothing to do with science.

Let's go now from Herbert Spencer to what we meet with Hegel. It doesn't matter that Hegel, who belonged to the first third of the 19th Century, was outwitted during the second third for central European philosophy because what was characteristic for Middle Europe was most meaningful in what exactly had appeared in Hegel. Let's look at Hegel. Already in his, I could call it, emotional predisposition, lies a certain antipathy against this universalist natural scientific way with which to shape the world view as Herbert Spencer had done in the West, but of course had been prepared by predecessors, both by scientific researchers and philosophers as well. We see how Hegel could not stand Newton and was unsympathetic to his unique way by thinking of the world-all as totally mechanical, how he rejected Newton not merely in terms of the colour theory but also in his interpretation of the cosmos. Hegel took the trouble to go back to Kepler's planetary movement formulations, he analysed Kepler's formulations about planetary movements and found out for himself, that Newton had actually not added anything new because Kepler's formulation already contained the laws of gravitation. This he applied from the basis of a scientifically formulated thought, while with Kepler it had resulted more out of a spiritual experience, which he saw as encompassing and that one could try to grasp the outer natural scientific through the spirit. Kepler is for Hegel simply the personality who is capable of penetrating thoughts with the spirit and building a bridge between what is acceptable scientifically, and what simply has to be believed according to the West, and which is also capable of lifting science into the area which for the West is limited to belief.

From this basis Hegel, in tune with Goethe, strongly opposed the Newtonian colour theory. We can see how the Hegelian system had a kind of antipathy against what appeared quite natural in the Newtonian system. For this Hegel had a decisive talent—to live completely in a thought itself. For Hegel Goethe's utterance to Schiller was obvious: “I see my ideas with my eyes.” It appears naive, however, such naivety, when considered correctly, comes out of the deepest philosophic wisdom. Hegel would simply not have understood how one could state that the idea of the triangle is not to be grasped, because Hegel's life went completely—if I might use the expression—according to the plan of thinking. For him there was also a higher world of revelations, a world of higher spirituality, which gradually casts its shadow images on a plane which is filled with thoughts. From up above the spiritual worlds throw their shadow images on the plane of the human soul, on which human thought can develop. Through this the idea of higher spirituality came about for Hegel, that on the plane of the soul it is shadowed as thoughts. Hegel was inclined to experience these thoughts as fully spiritual, and he also experienced natural events not in their elementary present time, but he saw them in mental pictures, thrown on to the plane of the soul.

So it is impossible in Hegel's philosophy to separate, in an outer way, wisdom from belief, which was quite natural in the West. For Hegel his life task was the unification of the spiritual world (which the West wanted to simply refer to as part of the large sphere of belief) with the sensory physical world, into such a world about which one can have knowledge. This means there is no longer knowledge on the one hand and belief on the other; here the human soul faces the great, meaningful problem: How does one find during earthly life the bridge between belief and knowledge, between spirit and nature? To a certain extent it was the tragedy of Hegel that the problem he posed in such a grandiose manner, he wanted to understand actually only on the level of thinking, that he wanted to understand the experience of the inner power, the inner liveliness of thinking, but he could not grasp anything living from the content of thought.

Consider Hegel's logic—he wanted to return repeatedly to the concept of the Logos! He felt that when we actually wanted to attain a true understanding of the Logos, then the Logos must be something which is not merely something thought, but a real activity which floods and works through the world. For him the Logos did not only have an abstract, logical content, but for him it became real world content. If we look at one of the three parts of his philosophy, namely his “logic” we only find abstract concepts! So it is terribly moving for someone who enters on the one side into the Hegelian philosophy, with his whole being, and has the fundamental experience: that which can be grasped through the Logos, must be penetrated with the creative principle of the world. The Logos must be “God before the creation of the world”—to use an expression of Hegel.

This is on the one side. Now how did Hegel develop this idea of the Logos on the other side? He starts with “being” and arrives at “nothing”, goes from “becoming” to “existence.” He arrives at the goal through the causality, to the belief that certain phenomena are best explained in terms of purpose rather than cause. One can look at the all the concepts of Hegel's logic and ask oneself: Is that what, “before the beginning of creation as the content of the divine” could have been there? This is abstract logic, the demand of the creative, the logos as postulate, but as a purely human thought postulate! One finds this tragic. This tragedy goes further, for the Hegelian philosophy is deemed as valid. Yet it contains instances where through action new life can germinate. It contains sprouts. Hegel saw his redemption in this: being—nothing—becoming—existence.

When people are presented with Hegel, they say: ‘This is a dark one, we don't need to be lured into it.’ However, when one makes the effort to allow one's inner soul to enter into it, to experience the concept inwardly, as Hegel tried to experience it, then all the ideas of empiricism and rationalism disappears, then thought experiences and the one who is thinking is directly thought of. Whoever goes along with it finds the impetus of loosening the thoughts from the abstraction, and take Hegel's logic as the sprouts which can become something quite different, when they become alive. For me Hegel's logic looks like the seed of a plant in which one can hardly see what it will become and yet still carries the most varied structures possible within it.

For me it appears that when this seed sprouts, when one lovingly cares for it and plants it into the soul's earth through anthroposophical research, then what emerges is that thought can not only be thought but can be experienced as reality. Here we have the central European aspect.

If we now go to the East, we have in Vladimir Soloviev a man who is able like no other philosopher, to become gradually more the content of our own philosophic striving, who must now become so important to us because we allow the particularities of his character to work in on us. We see in Soloviev both the European-eastern way of thinking, which is of course not Oriental-Asiatic. Soloviev absorbed everything which was European, he only developed it in an Eastern fashion. What do we see being developed in terms of human scientific striving? Here we see how actually this method of thinking, found mostly in the West by Herbert Spencer, which Soloviev basically looked down on, is something against which the truth and knowledge he was seeking, could so to speak be illustrated. In comparison, what he actually presents is a full experience of spirituality itself. It appeared in full consciousness to him, it appeared more atavistically, subconsciously, yet it is an experience in spirituality itself. It was more or less a dreamlike attempt to knowingly experience what in the West—here quite consciously—was transposed into the realm of belief. So we find in the East a discussion which can be experienced in an imprecise way, which looks like a one-sided experience which Hegel wanted to use to cross the bridge out of the natural existence to the spiritual world.

If a person delves into the spiritual development of someone from central Europe, like Soloviev, then he will primarily have an extraordinary uncomfortable feeling. He is reminded of an experience of something misty, mystical; an overheated element in the soul life which doesn't arrive at concepts, which can externally leave him empty completely, but which can only be experienced inwardly. He senses the entirely vague mystical experience, but he also finds that Soloviev makes use of conceptual forms and means of expression which we know, from Hegel, Humes, Mills, even those of Spencer, but only as illustrations. Throughout one can say he doesn't remain stuck in the mist but through the way with which he treats religious aspects as scientific, how he searches for it everywhere and unfolds it as philosophy, he can evermore be measured and criticised according to the philosophic conceptual development of the West.

So we find ourselves today in the following situation. In the West comes the striving to formulate a world view scientifically; science is on the one side and the spiritual on the other side and wrestle in the centre with the problem of how to create a bridge to include both, to express it imprecisely, as Hegel said: “Nature is Spirit in its dissimilarity,” “Spirit is the concept of when it has returned again to itself.” In all these stuttering expressions lie the tragedy that Hegel could only care for abstract ideas, which he strived for. Then in the East, with Soloviev we see how it was somewhat still maintained, how well the church fathers wanted to save it in terms of philosophy, before the Council of Nicaea. It places us completely back in the first three post Christian Centuries of the West.

So we have in the East an experience of the spiritual world, which is not able to soar up into self-owned terminological formulations, formulations and concepts used by the West in which they express themselves, and as a result remain in vague, somewhat extraneous, foreign expressions.

So we see how the threefold nature of the philosophic world view unfolded. By our tracing how the threefold philosophic world view was formed through the characteristics and abilities of humanity in the West, the centre and the East, we can see that we are obliged today—because science as something embracing must spread over all of mankind—to find something which can lift it above these various philosophic aspects which basically still provide elements where philosophy is still a human-personal matter. We see today in different ways in the West, central Europe and the East, how they love wisdom. We understand that in ancient times, philosophy could still be an inner condition of the soul. Now however, in recent times, where people are strongly differentiated, this way of loving wisdom expresses itself in a magnitude of ways. Perhaps we could realise due to this, what we have to do ourselves, particularly what we have to do in Central Europe, where the most tragic and intensified problem is raised even if it is not regarded in the same way by all philosophic minds.

If I want to summarise all of what I have brought into a picture, I would like to express it as follows. Regarded philosophically Soloviev speaks like the old priest who lived in higher worlds and who had developed a kind of inner ability to live in these higher worlds: priestly speech translated philosophically is what one encounters all the time with Soloviev. In the West, with Herbert Spencer, speaks the man of the world who wants to enter practical life—as it has come out of Darwinian theory—to expand science in such a way that it becomes the practical basis of life. In the Middle we have neither the man of the world not the priest: Fichte, Schelling, Hegel have no priestly ways like a Soloviev. In the Middle we have the teacher, the educators of the people and it is also here where the German philosophy emerged, for example, from religious deepening; because the priest became the teacher once again. The educated also adheres to the Hegelian philosophy.

We see recently—as with Oswald Külpe—how it has happened that philosophy, when it was already lost, is no more than a summary of the individual sciences. From inorganic science you can ask—what are the concepts? From organic science you can ask—what are the concepts? Likewise with history, with the science of religion, and so on. One collects these concepts and forms a separate abstract unit. I would like to say that the subject of the teaching in the separate sciences should create the totality of teaching. This is what the science in the Middle must basically come to after the entire assessment.

If we look back at what has happened, we see with Herbert Spencer the unconditional belief in science, the belief for the necessity to cling to observation, experiment and a thinking mind, which can be experienced through the observation and experiment; and one is mistaken about the contradiction which appears here, when the acquired concepts can be applied to the social organism and—although these do not have the most important characteristics of a natural organism, the sensorium—they are nevertheless grasped with the same concepts which arise in natural existence. We see the inclination to the natural sciences so strong that some characters—like Newton—became one-sidedly stuck to the mechanistic and even satisfied their soul-striving with it. It is generally known that Newton had tried in a one-sided mystical way to clarify the Apocalypse; besides his scientific world view he had his own mystical needs.

Let's look, for example, at everything which has arisen from natural science and what it gradually in the course of the 19th Century has subconsciously taken over in Central Europe; because in Central Europe science has simply followed the pattern of the Western scientific way of thinking. There is a tendency not to take notice of it, but still all points of view are modelled on the Western pattern. How wild the people become when someone tries to apply Goethe's way of thinking in physics in contrast to them taking shelter under Newton!

How does the development happen in biology? Goethe created an organism for which the integration into its concepts depended on an understanding of a mathematical nature. Time was short to obtain a biology more appropriate to modern thinking than to that of olden times. The progress in the 19th Century in central Europe however brought about not the Goethean biology but Darwinism, which was interspersed with concepts contrary to those of Goethe, like the concepts of the 16th Century opposed to those of the 18th Century. Only in Central Europe did these concepts develop; in the West people remained with those concepts that sufficed for the understanding of nature. So it happened that certain concepts in the West simply were not available and simply got lost because people in Central Europe had adopted western thinking. For example, that a thought, a lively thought, can form a concept of grasping a reality, quite apart from empiricism, as it had happened with Hegel—this is not present in Central Europe; it got lost because the central European thinking was flooded by western thinking.

So we have the task in Central Europe to look at what scientific thinking can be. Anthroposophists resent it when this scientific way of thinking is cared for with as much love as for the researcher himself. Nothing, absolutely nothing will be said by me in opposition to scientific thinking; if someone believes this then it is a misunderstanding. However, I must understand the scientific way of thinking in its purity and then also try to characterise it in its purity. Now these things are presented to those who confront scientific thinking with impartiality—somewhat like a western researcher will present them, like Haeckel in his genial way did it—these results are presented in a western way of research, when they are thus left and not reinterpreted philosophically, not given as solutions, not as answers, but are presented above all as questions. The totality of natural science does not gradually become an answer to a question for the impartial person, because it turns into the great world question itself. This is experienced everywhere: what is now being researched in the most beautiful way by these researchers—for my sake right up to atomic theory, which I don't negate but only want to put it in its correct place—this comes to a question and out of the West a great question is posed to us. Where does this question come from?

When we link our gaze to the outer world and only turn to the observation of the given elements, we don't fathom its complete reality. We are born as human beings in the world, are constituted as such, as we already were before and take part in the reality by looking at ourselves in our own inner being. As we look then at the outer world, the sense perceptible objects—we find that part which is living in us, is missing in reality, as we can only through human struggle connect to the other half-reality, which observes us from the outside. If we look towards the West, so we see the half-reality is researched with particular devotion; however, it only provides a number of questions because it's only a half-reality. So on the one side there appears only one half of reality as a given; if one really looks at it, it raises questions. In Central Europe you discover examples of questions which Western thinking can answer and one tries to push through to thinking. That is the Hegelian philosophy.

In the East one felt that which lives above the thought, which works down into the thought; but one couldn't come as far as awakening it to life, that so to speak the flesh could also sustain a skeleton. Soloviev was able to develop it in flesh, muscles and even blood in his philosophy—but the skeleton was missing. As a result, he took Hegel's concepts, those of Humes and others, and built in a foreign skeletal system. Only when one is in the position of not using a foreign skeletal system then something comes about which can be lived through spiritually. So, however, as it happened with Soloviev, it leads to a shadowed existence because it didn't manifest into a skeletal system which could as a result be descriptive. If one doesn't want to remain with building only an outer skeletal system, but live spiritually and prepare oneself through strong spiritual work, then one develops for oneself an inner skeleton within spiritual experiences; one develops the necessary concepts. For this, various exercises have been given in my writings, “Occult Science” and “Knowledge of the Higher Worlds” and in others. Here one develops what really can become a conceptual organism. This is then the other side of reality, and this side of reality has its seed in the eastern philosophy of Soloviev.

In central Europe there is always the big problem of striking a bridge between nature and the spiritual. For us it has at the same time become a meaningful historical problem: to strike the bridge between West and East, and this task must stand before us in philosophy. This task also directs itself into Anthroposophy. If Anthroposophy becomes capable of inward thought experiences developing into living form, then it may on the other side experience quite materialistic natural phenomena as they are experienced in the West, because then it will not be through abstract concepts but through living scientific circles that the bridge is built between mere belief and knowledge, between knowing and subjective certainty. Then out of philosophy a real Anthroposophy will develop and philosophy can be fructified from both sides by these living sciences. Only then would Hegel's philosophy be awakened to life, when through the anthroposophical experience you let the blood of life be spiritually added to it. Then there won't be a logical base which is so abstract that it can't be “Spirit on the other side of Nature”, as Hegel wanted it, but that it really can be grasped, not as abstraction but as the living spirituality of philosophy.

This gives Anthroposophy the following task. How must we, according to our present viewpoints, which lie decades behind Hegel, strike the bridge between what we call truth on the one side, which must encompass all of reality, and that which we call science on the other side, which also must encompass the entirety of reality? Briefly, the problem must be raised—and that is the most important philosophic problem in Anthroposophy: what is the relationship between truth and science?

This is the problem I wanted to present in the introduction today at the start of our consideration, which I believe you will now understand.

My dear venerated guests! To render the Anthroposophical world view understandable, it is always accused of having its ideas and results as based on research by people who first need to be schooled for it, therefore results of Anthroposophical research can't be verified from the outset by anyone and that nevertheless these observations are presented to unprepared people.

Yet this accusation, however justified it seems, belongs to the most unjustified ones that can be made against the Anthroposophical Movement, because it doesn't stipulate that every single person is to be immediately directed towards becoming a researcher in a supersensible area, but it deals with their research results being presented in such a way that every other individual can prove it for themselves, simply with ordinary human understanding and ordinary healthy logic. In any case this doesn't make it unnecessary that at least the first steps towards supersensible research must be striven for, and therefore there are indications in various publications which have been mentioned here already. Everyone can to a certain degree become an anthroposophical researcher—simply out of the conditions of present civilisation—but as proof of results of anthroposophical research this is not necessary because this proof can simply come through a healthy human understanding. One of these areas in which results can really be practically proven, is in the pedagogical area.

Dear friends! The Anthroposophical world view for a long time had to work purely through people coming continuously closer to ideas about the supersensible, before it became possible to bring them into present-day cultural conditions, into practical life, where they felt themselves particularly ready to actually penetrate. This was only possible in a limited area—and also only to a small degree—when Emil Molt founded the Waldorf School in Stuttgart, whose office was given to me. Already before that, as shown in the small publication “The education of the child from the point of view of spiritual science”, the attempt was undertaken to represent certain educational principles from the basis of Anthroposophy. Only through the founding of the Waldorf School did it become possible to apply these things in practice, and since this time it is also possible to carry out the pedagogical-didactic side of Anthroposophy in detail. It will of course not be possible for me to give more than a few indications in this introductory lecture, but I think other lectures during these days would be able to accomplish more.

Whatever is taken up through anthroposophic ideas, when they are simply verified through healthy human understanding, is not merely theoretical observation, are no mere ideas of abstraction which one can have in order to satisfy some or other need for theoretical knowledge. No, these conveyed ideas are being created out of an anthroposophical source, this is real human power; this is something which passes into the whole person, this makes love more intense, transforms human vigour. While the ideas and thoughts of usual science, which only draw on the sense world, have their peculiarity by being in the service of theoretical interests, and being of the sense-world its characteristic is to only relate practical interests to the sense world, by contrast it is characteristic of the ideas from anthroposophic research that their results work on the entire human being, on his empowerment, on his—if I might call it so—life skill, on his understanding of life, and it is this understanding which enables him to grasp the most varied of life's opportunities. If one takes on this life and fructify it through anthroposophical ideas, one can see how the actions of people, when they allow themselves to be directed by these ideas, acquire greater power, greater urgency and so on. This is what must be especially treasured in the pedagogic didactic sphere.

When we founded the Waldorf School we didn't have the opportunity to choose the outer conditions for the education and teaching of our children. In the present it is repeatedly asserted that for a satisfactory education, satisfactory teaching to be established, then some or other place for the school, for the educational institute or its equivalent, must be chosen. Certainly, much is said about these claims and in practice they are to some extent successful. We didn't have all of this. The next thing was the attempt to use the given circumstances and start with the children in the Waldorf-Astoria Cigarette factory. Next, we had a very specific kind of material environment for the children, we had to house ourselves in a place which was obviously hardly suited—it had previously been a tavern—to begin our teaching and education. So we couldn't rely on anything but on what began on a purely spiritual basis for the pedagogical and didactic aspects themselves.

Here it must be stressed again: while Anthroposophy doesn't strive for an abstract head knowledge—if I might use this expression—but an insight into the world and its secrets, it involves the whole human being, possibly leading to self-knowledge, to a self-understanding which one can't achieve in some or another theoretical sphere. In the end all education, all teaching is based on the understanding of the human being, which is proven in the relationship of the teacher, the educators to the emerging, growing adolescent, to the child. For this reason, our Waldorf pedagogy is developed upon an intimate knowledge of the growing person, the child. I only need to give one detail in which it can be seen how true insight into the whole human being must prove in practice.

Today we have a psychology which has more or less been proven by recognized science. However, this psychology theorizes around many questions which always leave unsatisfactory results. They pose the following question, for example: what is the relationship between the soul-spiritual and the physical-bodily aspects of the human being? They have developed all possible kinds of theories about this. Here we have three types of theories. The one tries to come from the soul-spiritual and try to define this in some way, to formulate an abstract concept and then to try in how far the soul-spiritual can work on the bodily-physical. Another, more materialistically coloured theory assumes that the bodily-physical should form the basis, so that the bodily-physical brings forth the soul-spiritual as one of its functions. A third theory is that of psycho-physical parallelism, which assumes that the soul-spiritual and bodily-physical matter equally, and only to pursue how the functions of the one takes place beside the other, without looking for any exchange taking place between them. These are all psychological speculations. At the moment a practical situation is present, through psychology, through soul knowledge, it finds driving forces into the pedagogic didactic impulses.

One can simply say our sphere of observation of the soul-spiritual human being has not yet reached a principle which we are accustomed to follow naturally according to science. In natural science for example, when we look at the phenomena where warmth appears, without the usual kind of warmth coming forth as usual, then this warmth from other circumstances is considered as so-called latent warmth and how it had developed out of latent conditions, and now appears as warmth. Such principles which are common practice in science must—obviously metamorphosed in corresponding manner—also be taken up in the observation of the totality of the human being, in which the soul-spiritual is included.

One comes to such an approach of observation which is fully justified by science—if it hasn't yet been seen today—if one focuses on the first important transformation which happen in the human organisation with the change of teeth around the seventh year of life. Such transformations in the human being are usually only observed outwardly. However, the change of teeth is something which penetrates the entire human life deeply. Whoever trains his abilities of observation will learn to recognise how with the change of teeth an entire change in the child's soul life takes place. He learns to recognise how the child in the fullest sense of the word, didn't really live “in himself”, but completely absorbed his soul-life in his environment. He learns to perceive the most essential of the driving forces in the child organism before the change of teeth, which is imitation. Through imitation the child learns movement.

One can through unbiased observation determine precisely how the movements from the father and mother or others in the child's surroundings enter into the childlike organism itself. One can follow how under healthy conditions speech is learnt under the influence of imitation. One can see how the child, in the fullest sense of the word, comes from his surroundings, with his whole being. This alters completely with the development at the change of teeth. Here we see how forces develop in the child, enabling the child to bring forth independent imagination, in which the inner child up to a certain degree is set free from the surroundings, which is not so before his seventh year of life. With the change of teeth, the child acquires a certain introspection and becomes gradually more accessible to abstraction.

Now the childish nature is again conditioned by everything which lives inwardly in the people surrounding the child, as it is absorbed by the child. That is why in the second period of life which begins with the change of teeth up to adolescence, is seen in such a way that everything which develops in the child is an adaptation of the people surrounding it. Not what the people do in the child's surroundings, because that is imitated, but in what lives in these people, this means what comes to expression in their words, their attitude, the direction of their thoughts, these are passed on to the child—as it were not through imitation but through taking up a power which is as part of him or her, as growth and nutritional powers in them: the power of authority. What is meant by the power of authority is not to be misunderstood because for someone who has written “The Philosophy of Freedom” it is necessary to point out how this authority principle comes under scrutiny in a certain phase of life. This means not the entire education should be put down to what is referred to today as the principle of authority. If one applies the corresponding value to such observations then things become ever more clearly differentiated and one gains the ability gradually to not only being able to observe the transformation in people from year to year, but also from month to month. What then happens actually between the change of teeth and puberty?

When you direct your gaze in order to learn what really happens there between the seventh and fourteenth year—those are of course only approximate numbers—the hidden forces within the child's soul now come to be expressed outwardly. This is hidden in the bodily nature and activates the expression of the human organism, works also in the formation of the brain in the first years of life and in the preparation of the speech organs, works also in everything the child develops in his bodily nature. Thus, you can say the following. Just as for instance the warmth in a body is hidden and can become free under certain circumstances, so the soul-spiritual, which works latently in the first seven years in the physical organism, expressed in every single movement, in every bodily process, only becomes free later. After the seventh year of life the body is left to itself more; the soul-spiritual does not withdraw completely out of the bodily, yet it does to a high degree. The change of teeth is then a kind of termination point of the first developmental phase, where the soul-spiritual was still in harmony with the bodily-physical.

You see that through this manner of observation you can reach a position where you are able to recognise a real relationship between the soul-spiritual and the bodily-physical. People don't theorize only around the question of how the one works upon the other, and so on. People simply see the soul-spiritual during one period of life as completely in the physical—this is clearly seen in the child's development—and later, after acquiring freedom, the form appears. So a comparison isn't made of what had been understood as abstract concepts earlier, but the reality is followed in the process of the soul-spiritual in the bodily form during the various periods of life. This means, however, that that which in natural science had been openly researched through the outer senses is lifted up into the spiritual sphere.

If you were to enter more into the details, which Anthroposophy wants to do, to penetrate it and not remain stuck in superficial definitions, you would soon see what kind of a faithful continuator of the justifiable scientific thinking of the spiritual scientific anthroposophical viewpoint actually is. Then, however, when in this way you gain the world of concepts and ideas of human knowledge, then the accusations regarding the alienation of the world of ideas is solved by itself.

Dear friends! Anthroposophy is the last to be in opposition to big and important events particularly during the 19th century in the pedagogical sphere, presented by great educators of humanity on pedagogical principles. Anthroposophy fully acknowledges the existence of great, meaningful educational principles and does not stand back before anyone in the recognition of the great educators. Only, you have to admit nevertheless, with all great educational principles there is often a certain dissatisfaction today regarding educational practice, educational methods; the most diverse kinds of educational practices bear witness to the fact that this is so. Why is this so?

It is often just a result of the intellectualism of our time. This intellectualism results—more than one normally believes—in a particular hostility towards life, especially in the social areas. It breeds in relation to ideation actually only abstraction. The abstract has no life-forces, it is in a certain way the corpse of the spiritual and is experienced as such. Even in having the most beautiful principles in which you can almost glow with enthusiasm—as long as these principles remain abstract, they can't obtain any kind of favourable influence. Only when these principles are permeated through with spirituality, living spirituality, which merges with the beings of people, could these principles become practical. Thus, Anthroposophy doesn't want to propose new educational principles in an abstract manner; it only wants to be an introduction for pedagogical and didactic skills, for the implementation of the art of education and art of instruction, and wants to present what the most beautiful educational principles can't give: spiritual foundations for the practical implementation, for the inner talents of teachers, to work in the school and in education.

For this reason, the Waldorf School is not so geared—as is often believed—to take our world view as it is conveyed to grownups, and to stuff it into our children. As a result, we have to particularly stress that as far as religious instruction go, the Catholic children are left to the Catholic priests, and the evangelist children to the evangelist priest. We have only arranged free religious instruction for those dissident children and if these lessons had not been organized they would have no religious education. As a result, some experience of the religious feeling can be accomplished because those parents who withdraw their children from religious instruction, send their children now into religious instruction in which we make the effort not to lecture Anthroposophy but to present it as is required at that particular age of the child. So it's not about depositing Anthroposophy into the childish mind, but it comes down to the teachers working through Anthroposophy, the pedagogical didactic methods employed in such a way that they really fulfil true human education.

This results in, simply through the practical implementation of such education and such teaching, not only in the child being looked at but the whole person being considered. It would be highly foolish to take the feet or hands as they are at a child's age and regard them as something complete and force them to remain as they are in childhood. It is obvious that we consider a child's organism as something coming into being, which has to be different later in life. However, in relation to the soul-spiritual we don't always do the same thing. We often even see rigid concepts introduced and that the child is frequently taught from a young age as having something like sharp contours in its soul. This is false! With anything which we want to allow incorporation into the childish organism, it must be introduced in a growing way, that it can gradually be transformed so that the human being later, in his thirtieth year for example, not only has a memory of what he had absorbed in his childhood but that the content of this has been as transformed by him as he had transformed his limbs. Everything of a soul-spiritual nature we give the child must also contain powers of growth, powers of transformation; that means we must make our teaching more and more alive.

Certainly this could be expressed as an abstract principle but practically it can only be accomplished when true intimate human knowledge is present. Such a kind of intimate human knowledge makes it possible to deduce everything from the childish nature into what is understood as the syllabus and goal of learning. Out of this the Waldorf School has taken its syllabus and the objectives of learning from actual human knowledge which can be read from month to month in the developing childish nature itself. The effort has been made to bring all of this about in a living sense.

I only want to mention one thing. Today in various ways teaching has improved even in some public tuition. But, you all know that during the school year the child becomes even more conscious than one is aware, and suffers under a system where the progress of the child is judged. It depends on the one side on the child's performance and on the other, the teacher's judgement of this performance, and is expressed as: “satisfactory”, “nearly satisfactory”, “nearly not satisfactory”, “less satisfactory” and so on. I have to confess to you, I was never really capable of differentiating between “nearly satisfactory” and “nearly not satisfactory” and so on. With us in the Waldorf School it involves that out of the totality of progress made by the end of each school year, the child is given a kind of witnessing presented by the teacher which characterises each individual child and that he simply writes this on a piece of paper as his experience of that child. So the child sees a kind of mirror image of himself, and this practice—which doesn't depend on “satisfactory”, “nearly satisfactory” and so on for the individual items—has been accepted with a certain inner satisfaction and received with joy, even when there is blame. The child also receives a kind of powerful verse which echoes with his own nature, which he takes up and which serves as a mission statement for the following year.

In this way one can, if one has the love for it, enter in a lively way into education, even working through unfavourable relationships in a lively way.

As a result, we come again to something which needs to be overcome, needs to be conquered in pedagogy and didactics in our epoch. Today one will hardly find any evidence in the outer historic descriptions, of how souls' constitutions have changed during the single evolutionary epochs. Whoever is without bias can readily understand how the spiritual utterances which were revealed to souls during the 10th, 11th and 12th Century for instance, are of a completely different character than what had been presented since the middle of the 15th Century to the soul constitutions of civilised humanity. Yes, up to the 20th century intellectualism in humanity has developed up to a culmination point. Intellectualism has the peculiarity, that it—just like the principle of imitation or authority—only shifts at a particular human age out of its latent position and in the case of intellectualism it is related to a later period in life. We see how the human being only when he has reached puberty, actually even later, becomes suitable to progress towards intellectuality. Before this age intellectualism works in a paralyzing, deadening way into soul activity.

As a result, we can say we live in an epoch which is only appropriate for grownups, which has as its most important cultural impulse, something which should only come into expression in adults. As a result, because our entire cultural tone is set towards grown adults, we are actually unable to understand the child—and even young people!

This is the most important aspect our civilization needs to look at. We need to be clear that precisely through those powers which our sciences and our technology have triumphed and have been brought to such a great blossoming, we must take up the possibility to fully understand the child and enter into the human nature of the child. It just needs our own effort to strike our bridge across to the young people and the child. What appears in various forms as the youth movement—one can say whatever one likes—has its deepest entitlement; it is nothing other than the cry of the youth: ‘You grownups have a civilization which we simply don't understand, when we bring our basic natures to it!’—This bridge between the adult and the child's world must be discovered again, and to this Anthroposophy will contribute.

When you go down from the general cultural point of view to the individual you will once again find that these syllabi which are deduced from the essence of the child itself, teach us what syllabus we need to develop for the phases in the child's life. Reading and writing were in earlier times something quite different to what they are today. Take for example the letters: they are something abstract, strangers in relation to life actually. If we go even further back, we find something in the pictorial writing which is directly related to life. We often today don't even think about how intimately life was connected to this image rich writing and how strange these are in life: reading and writing. Yes, we stand within a civilization in which it is natural to have the strangest elements in life developed into civilization's goals. When we in an open-minded way look at for instance a stenographer or a typist sitting at a typewriter, we know that with such activities humanity has been sucked into the strangest civilization.

My dear friends, we don't want to be hostile to culture or become reactionaries, when we express this. Nothing is to be said about these means which have entered in modern times; they must be there. Yet, powers of thought need to be developed which can heal this once again, this, which if it is left to work all by itself could only lead to a definite decline of culture and lead to decadence. The most important moment in which a healing remedy can be introduced, lies in education and in the classroom, to be designed through education.

When the child enters elementary school, then it is indeed so, that the intellect is drowsy. The ability for abstract thinking, which first needs to be experienced through others, only appears later. As a result, abstract forms of writing and reading introduced to the child as it arrives in school, cannot be related to. We can only take something which can reach the child in a lively way, which works in the child itself already as an artistic soul principle, something more pure and splendid than any other art. This works on a subconscious level. We must continue this way and try to find forms of a particular nature, through which the child in an artistic way can be active in his total being in the artistic form of writing which can evolve into reading. With relevance to pedagogy, when the children haven't learnt to read or write at the age of nine or ten, one must have the courage to say: ‘Thank goodness that these children can't read or write yet!’—because it isn't important for the child to learn this or that but that he or she learns in the right way at the right age.

This is why the Waldorf School education is orientated in an artistic way. Out of pedagogic-artistic principles it commences and gradually leads over into the intellectual. We take into account that music must appear early in education while this has a relationship to development of the will forces. As a result, we take into account that the usual physical education, as animated gymnastics are given as Eurythmy, is inserted into the lessons. It needs to be metamorphosed, transformed pedagogically-didactically, then those who have observed it discover that through this art of movement, the soul and spirit have been provided with something meaningful. One discovers that the child in his school-going education experiences him or herself into the art of movement in a similar way as a small child finds its way into speaking, with inner pleasure and inner naturalness.

Working from an artistic basis results in the child handling colours from very early on. Even though it is also sometimes inconvenient and might mean more stringent cleaning rules need to be applied, it will still affirm that the child enters more deeply into life than otherwise. Brought into the bargain is the development of a sense for life, that life doesn't go by but that the child lives with the outer world, that it becomes sensitive for everything which is beautiful, every encounter in nature and in life being meaningful. This is more important than the transference of details from this or that sphere on to the child.

Added to all that I've only indicated in an outline, the Anthroposophical foundation is what flows into the teacher's mindset, what the teacher simply through his entire being attributes to the pedagogical-didactic imponderables, when he closes the classroom door behind him, when he steps in front of the children. Whoever looks in a lively sense—not with abstract ideas—how the child copies and adapts to his environment, knows what works in the child in a soul-spiritual way. The teacher gets to know the child and as a result obtains the requirements with which to judge in quite a different way than is usually done. I want to present an example of this.

You learn quite a bit when you look at life in the following way. Once parents came to me and said their young son, who up to that point had been quite neat and tidy, had suddenly stolen something. I asked: “How old is the child?” The parents answered: “Five years.” I said: “Then you must first examine what the child has actually done because perhaps he has not stolen anything.”—What had he done in fact? He took money out of the drawer in the same way his mother takes money every morning when she wants to go shopping. From the money the little boy had bought treats which he didn't keep for himself but had given to other children. In this case a person can say: There is no reason to see this as stealing; the child simply saw what the mother did each morning and felt capable of doing the same. The child is an imitator. Each relationship of a child to the norms of adults, in which the expressions “good” and “bad” appear, only become applicable when the change of teeth has taken place. Therefore, we must obtain a completely different way to form judgements and learn that everything we do in the child's surroundings need to be so orientated that the child can copy them, can imitate them right into the imponderable thoughts within them. This proves the reality of thoughts. Not only our actions but also the manner and way of our thoughts give substantiality. In the child's surroundings we should not give in to any random thought because this works in on the child. Therefore, we need to look into even the imponderables in thoughts.

If one looks at how the child up to his seventh year lives in his environment one can get the impression of what the child had been before he came down into the physical sense world. Up to then—this is shown in anthroposophic research—the person is surrounded by a soul-spiritual world which is permeated by the cosmos, just like in the physical world his body is connected to the physical world. We become able to see that in the child's life, up to his seventh year, it has been a true continuation of life before birth or conception. This however must be transformed in the pedagogic-didactic experience so the teacher, standing in front of the children, must say to himself: The super-sensible worlds have given me something to unravel, which I must level out in the path of my life.

Teaching and education really becomes an act of sacrifice towards the whole world. There is a conviction being uttered about teaching and education being a force and without which in real teaching and real education, nothing can come about. This conviction which hasn't been adopted from outside, but has come through inner work, through the anthroposophical world view, this is the most important in pedagogical-didactic work. You stand with shy religious reverence to what is hidden within the child's body, you look at one who has risen from eternal world foundations which is gradually revealed in childish movements, gestures and so on, and you know that the riddle of life needs to be solved in a practical way. Only in this way are the entire teach, and educational convictions directed correctly. This atmosphere which spreads in all activities, which needs to take place in the school life, is what Anthroposophy above all wants to have within the teaching and educational being and from where all details need their direction. However, to be master of them, it is necessary that you, through true inner observation of the smallest movement of the child's life, see how the spirit works right into its very fingertips. The teacher will acquire an inner overall view so that he out of an ability, which must become an instinct, meets his class in the spirit and skilfulness that come from his internal processing of the anthroposophical world view.

Here are a few indications which I was able to give; they could be implemented further in the next lectures. These indications should show that Anthroposophy doesn't want to be radically against great pedagogic accomplishments but that it will be the assistant to the great one, if we are not to remain stuck in abstractions, so that we can enter practical life in a vital way, in order for the art of education to become a real impulse, an effective factor in our social life!

My dear venerated guests! Besides the introductory words I want to say regarding today's task, I want to limit myself to essential indications in the following lectures to details of the economic life in its relationship to the area coming under discussion.

Social science can't be talked about today from only a theoretical standpoint. Today—I mean at this very present moment—one can only speak about such questions while the dire situation of the economic life existing in the civilised world is in the background. Into this desolate situation was also added something which I set out in my “Key Notes of the Social Question”, after the temporary end of the terrible catastrophe of world war.

At that time, I urged everyone to observe the social economic life in relation to the present time of world development. It is this economic life at present which is intimately intertwined with that which moves in the entire circumference of the social question. Yes, most people at present can hardly sense that the social question can be separated from the economic question. Yet my book “Key Notes of the Social Question” enters into establishing clarity in relation to the area in question here, where it will be pointed out how the economic life within the social organism needs to establish its own independent position, such an independent position within which the same facts and indications acquire their form only according to economic principles, economic opinions and impulses. In this respect my book—I say it here in quite frankly, because that is what matters most—contains an inner contradiction. Only, this book is not to be regarded as a theoretical book on social science. This book wants to give suggestions above all to life practitioners; this book was written out of observations of the European economic life over decades. Because this book strives to be completely realistic, a direct encouragement for practical activities—practical action in the moment—it had to contain a contradiction. This contradiction is namely nothing other than what permeates our entire social life and consists in our social life being in the course of modern time mixed up, chaotic; only viable if it develops its individual branches from out of its own conditions.

I must speak about the threefold divisions of the social organism which leads to the economic life becoming separated in a fully, free way from the organised legal and state life as well as from the spiritual life, so that the economic life becomes, for those who stand within it, formed out of their personal actions and initiatives. However, we presently live at a time in which such a situation doesn't exist, in which the economic life stands within the structure of the general social organism. We live in a time in which contradiction is a reality. As a result, a manuscript, which has aimed at being written out of reality and is being offered with suggestions based on reality, can bring about a contradictory turn; it could only come from the standpoint of bringing the contradiction to clarity, and with this clarity achieve relationships.

I am thus in an unusual position today by giving this introduction because in connection to what is based on anthroposophical grounds, created with anthroposophical methods of thought, founded on decades of realistic observation of European economic relationships—it is in the widest circles where it was first misunderstood in the worst possible way. I can only say I fully understand these misconceptions which have been given to these underlying intentions; these misunderstandings are phenomena of our time. However, I must be on the other side of the standpoint, that in overcoming these misconceptions lies what we first have to strive for sociologically, socially, and to this I would like to say a few words to orientate us.

When my book “Key Notes of the Social Question” was first published, it took place in the middle of the European development which was immediately followed by the terrible war catastrophe. It was during the time preceded by the Versailles treaty, a time in which value relationships in central and eastern European states were essentially different. Not from some cuckoo land cloud impulse was my “Key notes” written down, but thought through from the immediate world situation in such a way that I hoped to believe a large number of people would find it, and on the basis of these suggestions search further, then one could—namely from central Europe—throw an impulse also into the economic development which would lead to a significant, acceptable ascent which from then on and up to today had been a continual waste on the economy and social life in general. At that time you could say to yourself that a person could think out of this complicated world situation: Perhaps no stone will remain standing as he has created into the thought structures of the “Key Notes of the Social Question”—; that these ideas would be made up out of those who were there. Still, it could be grasped and would perhaps have given quite a different result to what could be fixed in a manuscript. It is not important that ideas are presented in a utopian manner, that an image can be presented as a social futuristic organism, but it comes down to people discovering and understanding: real problems exist here, directly in life; we have to deal with these problems out of our expertise and see if we can handle these issues by finding an ever wider understanding for them.

Basically, something quite different has happened. On the one hand theorists have all kinds of discussions regarding the content of my book, discussions to which all manner of demands are linked regarding its contents. Some theoreticians misinterpreted what had been said completely, wanting to turn it in a utopian sense by asking: How will this be, how will that be?—ie: what one could actually expect. It turned out to be a strange fact to me which took me by surprise because precisely those practicing economists who work routinely within the economic life, who know about this or that branch of business and rejected what I had said, spoke about things in their business which wasn't practiced in their business—that these practitioners argue over the key points of the social question and as a result, prove themselves to be abstract theoreticians. This shows that one can have a routine practical involvement in economic life—in the old sense; under the newer relationships it can no longer be—these practitioners were absolutely not in the position to what was being battered here as also being related to problems of the economic life, other than discussion points made in abstract theories; which could raise doubts when you oppose practitioners and get involved in their discussions because nothing concrete is entered into but only completely trivial generalities are repeated about the social question, if you question someone.

The other thing you could come across would be that at first those, who on the whole are quite substantial practitioners, even reject wanting to talk in this way about the possible form which economic problems could take on. Going on from here, some interest could be stimulated for instance in socialistic circles; here the experience could be that what is wished for is the least understood from that side and that everything should be judged according to whether they fit into old party templates or not. And so time passed by from when these suggestions were thought about. The whole terrible Valuta-misery came about which has to be considered in quite a different way to how it is usually judged today.

With the first appearance of my “Call to the German Nation and the Cultural World” and then “Key Notes of the Social Question”, individual personalities immediately appeared who in their way are quite honest about healing central European economic life, and said: ‘Yes, such proposals’—they called them proposals—‘look quite attractive, but it should first be asked how we can enhance the Valuta.’ That was said during a time when the Valuta-misery according to today's relationships, still existed in pure paradise. Now it shows in such demands that tampering with only external symptoms are wanted. It has little understanding that Valuta relations battered on the surface show unhealthy economic relationships, that with such a cure of a symptom the evil is not addressed, and that it requires entering into much, much deeper social economic conditions today if one wishes to in some or other way arrive at speaking about problems realistically, regarding the indications in my “Key Notes of the Social Question.” Now it has come about that what I repeated in conclusion of lectures which I held in the end of the “Key notes” at that time, had the call: people have to wake up before it is too late—that this “too late!” has come to the fore to a large degree today. We are not at all in the position to resonate in the original sense with the “Key notes” to understand them because in the mean time chaos has broken into the economic life where now quite other additions would be necessary and not what was merely mentioned but what had to be spoken about according to my conviction. One can hardly pass by a characteristic common to our age if one wants to discuss the most damaging aspect in today's economic life.

When I picked up the newspaper yesterday, I came across—and it could today be one of the most important symptoms we find everywhere, which our contemporaries express in single sentences—I came across the article “Postponing the resignation of Lloyd George until after the Genoa Conference”. With this once again our daily situation is announced because the characteristic of today is “wait”. “We want to wait”—this has actually become the ruling principle: wait until something happens but you can't tell what it will actually be. This is what is deeply embedded in the human soul today, on all levels.

Now I want to apparently—only apparently—introduce something quite abstract: this is intended in a complete realistic way because it indicates the forces working among us which have in the course of human development gradually enabled us to arrive at such a promising principle as “We want to wait” and apply it to everything.

When we look back at ancient cultural development we find in these old cultures, that factual thinking, in the sense as it appeared in ancient times—you know this from my lectures I held in the Philharmonic—can't be called purely “scientific”. If one considers what stands in the place of today's scientific thinking then you will know that first of all, out of this thinking the economic life could not have directly emerged. The economic life had to more or less first become independent of human thinking, developed instinctively—not meaning automatically—as exchange in humanity. What wanted to be done in the economic life simply developed out of practical life. People acted instinctively; even expanded trade into this or that area but everything happened more or less instinctively. Now, one can from some point of view object according to today's understanding of human freedom, human worth and so on, to the economic conditions of olden times; all this would be good to be seen from the other side, how the extraordinary symptoms of human evolution, which even today can be instructive, for instance appear in the way employees and employers—if you want to apply a modern expression to olden times—lived in relation to one another during ancient Greece, old Egypt and right over to Asia. Today these things are taken in such a way that they elicit the sharpest criticism; but, each such a criticism is not historical and one must say: the conditions in the corresponding epochs resulted from the feelings of humanity at that time. This is what one needs to focus on.

The other one is a fact connected to that shift in humanity's evolution which I've often pointed out, of around the fifteenth century, through which the soul constitution of civilised humanity became something quite different. I've already said outer history hardly points out that the collective soul constitution of humanity has become something different. If we ask ourselves how this human evolution relates to the economic life, then we get the following answer. The time for instinctive leadership as I've characterised, this time reached into the epoch of the shift. With this shift intellectualism arrived into the soul constitution; the drive to understand the world purely through human mental logic. This drive, which simply became a deep need in the human constitution, proved itself so brilliantly in the field of natural science and in that field which developed as a result: the field of technology where in the most extraordinary way it has not celebrated enough triumphs. However, this intellectualism—it was shown in various arguments, which during this course have already been dealt with—has shown itself as completely incapable of understanding the phenomena of human life and human nature as well as social relationships. With this intellectualism, this intellectual orientation, the soul can be brought back in a grandiose way to outer sense perceptible nature and its laws. You can't intertwine the one with the other in this intellectualism and while this intertwining goes on, get organised and while organising yourself also enjoy life and grasp spiritually permeated social relations. I would like to say the following. The network of intellectual ideas is too broad for what lies in social life. To think scientifically—that, humanity learnt from this intellectualism. Everything has been drawn into it, even theology. Intellectualism rules while we observe and experiment with our entire scientific way of thinking, and finally, what we have introduced into it which can't fit between the lines of intellectualism, we see as not scientific.

During this time intellectualism fell into the transition from a purely instinctive economic life to one fuelled with human thoughts. We may say that in the time when people didn't think intellectually about the world, the economic life was directed instinctively. When however, the time came when more and more world economy and world traffic appeared, this tendency required human beings to penetrate world economy and world traffic with their thoughts. These thoughts only came from intellectualism. As a result, everything which came from economic thoughts—in mercantilism, physiocratism, in the national economic ideas of Adam Smith, as in everything which later appeared right up to Karl Marx—on the one side demanded economic life, which was not merely instinctively mismanaged but it was grasped with thoughts, however on the other side, where thoughts could only come from intellectualism, all economic observations would become thoroughly one-sided, so that nothing could result from this economic observation which could be seen as continuing to work in economic practice. On the one hand you have the economic theorists who created axioms from intellectual sentences—like for instance Ricardo, Adam Smith or John Stuart Mill—and who now develop systems on the basis of these principles on which they built a complete self-contained mentality (Geistesart). On the other hand, the economic practice needed and demanded penetration by the spirit, but found no connection to what had continued to work instinctively and as a result it fell into complete chaos.

So these two streams became more and more common in recent times, on the one hand were the economic theorists—without the influence of economic practice; on the other hand the practitioners with their old practices which had become a continued routine and as a result let the economic life of the civilised world fall into chaos. Obviously one must express such things in a somewhat radical manner because then one will really distinguish what works and what can be understood as a problem.

If one now wants to find, I might call it, a connection, a kind of synthesis between economic thinking—which has gradually been eradicated by practice—and this economic practice—then one finds this connection at least in one of them. Recently a kind of economic realism has developed; a kind of economic-scientific realism which says that one can hardly find general laws for economic life if economic facts are not considered and events between single nations or groups are looked at what has happened only in an external way, to find guidelines for economic trade. From this basis has developed the so-called social-political in economic law-making. This means people gradually believed they have discovered through mere observation of factual economic relationships in connection with the permeating social connection that they could find certain guidelines which could be brought to expression in economic law-making; people now had, by taking detours through the State, tried to actualize some of these which had developed out of observation, but as a result it had to be actually admitted that these foregoing observations of real scientific economic laws could not at all emerge. Yes, we are actually still basically in this situation today. Just when one is in the situation of encountering decisive experiences, I could call it social Ur-phenomena being judged in the right way, then one sees the situation one is in.

You all know that Woodrow Wilson's “fourteen points” arrived at the dreadful chaotic point civilised life had entered. What were these fourteen points actually? They were basically nothing other than abstract principles of an unworldly man, a person who knew little about reality, who appeared in Versailles where he could actually have played an important role. This man who was a stranger to reality wanted to show the world how to get organised according to principles founded on intellectualism. One only had to experience with what inspiration civilised mankind hung on to these fourteen points, however with the exclusion of a large part of the central European population, they unfortunately also fell for these fourteen points after a short period of time.

During 1917, by contrast, I tried to show individual central European personalities who were interested but who were not following it, but were either approached or brought to it, how abstract, how unrealistic this was which wanted to be brought into the social form, how so to speak everything which ruled in the poor educational principles in modern civilisation was a concentration of what this school master Woodrow Wilson had introduced, and how the abstract principles—in a bad sense—were received with enthusiasm. At that time, I tried to show that a healing of the relationships could be entered into if you take a stand in opposition to such abstract attitudes, without excluding thoughts but which promotes realistic thoughts in order to develop from a realistic basis. Then it will not be a utopian invention—I would like to say the Woodrow Wilson principles were the most condensed utopian, utopianism already in its third potency, but one must be clear about finding contemporary humanity in its real conditions in order to discover impulses. Therefore, I gave up having to deal with any utopian theory, refrain from even saying how capital, how labour and suchlike must be formed; I gave at most some examples for how one could think about forming the future according to contemporary relationships. That was however only as illustration to what should happen; because just as I have spoken about the transformation of capital forces in my “Key notes”, just so this transformation can be fulfilled in a modified way. It is not important for me to present an image of the future but to say from which foundations, in a real way, one can now—not with theoretically thoughts—come to an actual solution for the so-called social question. It is not important to say that this or that is the solution to the social question. I have already had too many experiences in trying to find such a solution. Already in the 1880's in pleasant Vienna all kinds of clever people gathered nearly every afternoon after two o'clock. In the course of one hour the social question was solved many times! Those who considered the relationships of the present in an unbiased manner, know very well that solutions which often appear in thick books have much less worth than those negotiated in comfortable Vienna with a stroke or two of the pencil and fantastic words across a white tablecloth. That is not the point and it was the worst mistake brought to me that it should be something like that.

What I wanted to point out was the following. The solution of the social problems can only be affected in a real way out of itself; the result can't be solved through discussion but through events and actions. Conditions first need to be established to contain this activity, conditions I try to refer to in my “Key notes” and in other sources. I'm trying to show we need arrangements in our social organism which makes it possible for a spiritual life to develop out of its own conditions in which the spiritual life itself works; that we need a second member, where only legal-state impulses are at work, and besides that a third member, where only those impulses work which come out of production and consumption of goods, and lastly that it develops out of an associative economic system, culminating in healthy pricing. In this way the old class system will not be recalled. It won't be people branching into an educational class, a defence class and a nutritional class, but the modern human being has moved into individuation and will not be divided into some particular state.

What exists externally as an arrangement simply comes from the forces in history's unfolding, which are separate from the conditions out of which they are negotiated, to do something for the spiritual life, the legal or state life and economic life. Only when conditions are created which for instance the economist can do purely out of economic impulses, which would be modified by contemporary market trends, or should modify the capitalistic relationships, only when such possibilities are created among people will they develop something of a real solution—which is in a continuous becoming—of what can be called the social question.

It is not important for me that the social question is solved because I have to agree that the solution can't at any one moment be given as something self-contained, while the social problem from which it has originated is in a constant forward flow. The social organism is something which becomes young, and older, into which new impulses must flow, of which the following can never be said: it has this or that form. If the social organism is not so, that people sit together in one parliament that mixes all interests together, where those interested in economics make decisions about questions of the spiritual life, legal life and economic questions and so on, but when in a healthy social organism each individual sphere is considered out of its own conditions, then the state life can be placed on a realistic democratic foundation; then what is to be said doesn't come from one person in one such a single parliament, but it will emerge from continued ongoing negotiations among individual branches of the social organism.

In this context my book was also a warning to finally stop the fruitless arguments about the social question and to place it on the foundation where the solution to the social questions can be taken up every day. It was a call to the understanding how to take what was abstract in thought and to really translate this into thoughtful action. Added to this for example the associations can serve the economic life. Such associations are different from those which in recent times have been established as socialization, and can be created every day out of economic foundations. They are concerned with those people who handle goods production, in the circulation and consumption of goods—which every person is—to unite in associations through which healthy pricing can develop. It is a long way from knowledge of the subject and specialised knowledge which have to be achieved by people linked to associations, up to what doesn't come from legislation, also not from results of discussions but results from experience, which will give healthy pricing. Above all people have the desire, the broad outline of what they want at the time and which I am trying to present to you to discuss through these introductory words, because the world is so schooled in abstract thinking that one also takes this suggestion only from the point of view of abstract thinking, which I'm only using as an illustration, and discuss it for hours, while it should be about really understanding how each day the members of the social organism can be tackled in the way as indicated in my “Key notes.”

Today it is not of importance to find theoretical solutions to the social question but to search for conditions under which people can live socially. They will live socially when the social organism works according to its three members, just like a natural organism under the influence of its relative threefoldness also work towards unity.

You see, it first has to be explained what is meant by such things. When these things are spoken about, words are still required; yet words need to be taken up according to their intellectualised meaning which we attach to them today. These are translated immediately into intellectual things which are quite clearly not immersed in intellectualism. Therefore, in my book I have spoken in such a way about capital and about the natural foundations of production simply as ideas being thought out. When we want to deal with things abstractly, we can create definitions for a long time, and that has in fact happened. Someone says with equal right: Capital is crystallized labour, work which is stored up—and someone else says with the same right: Capital is saved labour. You can do this with all economic concepts if you remain within intellectualism. But these are not all things which can be dealt with theoretically only; we need to understand them in a lively form. If practitioners do a lot for the benefit of their practice and routine, cultivated out of the abstractions in these things, they can achieve the following, which I want to explain through a comparison.

I look at Ernst Muller. He is small with completely childish features and childish qualities. Twenty years later I look at Ernst Muller and say that this is not Ernst Muller because he is small and has childish qualities and quite a different physiognomy.—Yes, if at that time I had formed a concept of Ernst Muller and now want to attribute him with what at that time I had met as his real being, then I'll be making a terrible mistake. As little as people want to believe this, yet it is the way people are thinking along economic routes. They form thoughts and ideas about capital and labour and so on, and they believe these ideas must always have the same validity. It is not necessary to wait twenty years; you only need to go from one employer to another, from one land to another to discover the concept which you had created in one place is no longer valid in another because a change has been brought about—like in Ernst Muller. People don't recognise what exists when one doesn't have mobile ideas moving within life.

This is what makes it possible that on an anthroposophical foundation today's needs also find their expression in economic institutions because Anthroposophy's nature involves flexible ideas, which can teach you how you can provide your ideas with forces of growth and inner mobility and that with such ideas—as little as today's practitioners want to believe it—they can dive into other kinds of reality, which are revealed in the social life between one person and another, between one nation to another, through to entirely what has become necessary now in the artificially impaired world economy. One can therefore rightly say it is not an external attempt made on Anthroposophical grounds towards social ideas but to arrive at social impulses.

I still remember a time when many discussions took place about these things. I always had to stress: I'm talking about social impulses!—This upset people terribly. Obviously I should have said: social ideas or social thoughts, because the people only had thoughts in their heads about such things. That I spoke about impulses angered them terribly because they hadn't noticed I used “impulses” on this basis of indicating realities and not abstract ideas. Obviously one had to express oneself in abstract ideas.

Today it must again be grasped that a new understanding must be found for what is called the social question. We live in different relationships today than in the year 1919. Time is moving fast, especially in economic areas. It is necessary that even those very ideas which were considered at that time as mobile, continue to be contained in the flow and that one's observations of viewpoints stay within the spiritual present.

Whoever wants to look at the reality of relationships within the economic life knows they have essentially changed since the writing of my “Key notes” and one can no longer just use deductions as before. At least in the “Key notes” one would find an attempt to search for this method of social thinking in a realistic way, perhaps exactly because this attempt has grown from the soil where realities are always looked for, where one doesn't want to fall into fanaticism or false mysticism—because this attempt is grown out of accuracy on the wrestling ground of the anthroposophical world view.

My dear venerated guests! As an introduction I have been obliged to refer to a notice in the newspaper which has just been handed to me; a notice in “Christian World,” a publication I don't know and obviously have not thought about. In this notice it says: “From 5 to 12 March an Anthroposophic University Course will take place in Berlin. The day for theologians is Friday the 10th. This event on Friday is now an unequivocal challenge of Steiner and his followers to the theologians ...” and so on.

Now, my dear friends, this event may be anything; what it certainly isn't, even if it was believed to be, it would be misunderstood in the most profound sense, if it is regarded as a challenge to the theologians. I myself would not be involved in any other way than having been asked to cooperate through lectures and introductory observations in this university course which didn't come out of my initiative. I'm least involved in today's event (which is an insertion into this program item of the course) by thinking that what we were dealing with today could be understood as an “unequivocal challenge of today's theologians.”

Thus, you will also allow, my dear friends, that not all sorts of misunderstandings will again be linked to what I have to say in a few introductory words today. I want to limit myself to a theme: The relationship of Anthroposophy to Theology. I want no new misunderstandings to arise; I will renounce some of them in my presentation because otherwise I would have to once again find my intention misjudged.

Dear friends, it has never been my purpose—forgive me if I'm forced by this challenge given to me by shortly mentioning some personal details—it has never actually been my intention to challenge theology and from their starting point Anthroposophy had, insofar as it presents a work sphere in which I participate as well, never attempted to set them apart within the work, with today's theology. This has happened so far, and really from me it has happened as little as possible, but unfortunately it has resulted that many attacks against anthroposophy from the side of theology have taken place, and sometimes people—not me particularly but others—defends themselves. Anthroposophy wants to remain thoroughly neutral in its working sphere, I'd like to say, it wants to work out of present day spiritual science.

Towards the end of the previous century one had a certain scientific direction, certain scientific methods, an attitude and method, out of the foundation of which we have already spoken and which can't be spoken about more extensively, established a method and attitude which people apply to the entire development of recent times and particularly apply to scientific research. Through this natural scientific research the greatest possible triumphs—I don't mean in a trivial but in a deeper sense—have come to human progress and human well-being. During this time natural scientific research stands in a somewhat puzzled manner towards philosophy. Philosophy had to separate itself from those methods which are applied to natural science; the difference of a factual sphere made scientific methods inapplicable in philosophy.

People were not always, one could call it, theoretically and epistemologically clear in what sense the scientific methods or philosophic methods had to apply. Practice lapsed into experimental philosophy in certain areas where it was more or less apparent or more or less really worked, but the uncertainty is basically there as well. By contrast Anthroposophy worked out of the most varied foundations towards its own working methods. On the one hand it wants to take into account what can be achieved in modern thinking and research methods of science, and on the other hand the human needs for the spiritual world and its knowledge. The human being is confronted on the one hand with the fact of fully recognising scientific methods, and in relation to the treatment of the scientific field—I have already mentioned this—I am today as much a student of Haeckel as I was in the 1890's; not in the sense of scientific methodology not to be developed further and not as if, from the side of science Heackel's writings should not be applied, but it comes down to quite a different area being discussed. In the treatment of the purely natural world I'm as much in agreement with Haeckel as at that time. It deals more with the experience of natural scientific observations through which one is educated in scientific precision, in a natural scientific sense which can result in the creation of ideas and concepts, which are needed for working scientifically. This then holds true for all observations in the world—due to our limited time now, I can't give you proof of this. This remains a truth: for all outer sensory observations this sentence is valid: “there is nothing in the mind which wasn't previously in the senses”—certainly on the other hand, Leibniz's statement applies: “Except in the mind itself.”

In the experience of the mind, that means in the weaving of the soul through the mind's categories where ideas are experienced in objects of nature, the examination of facts of nature which need a formulation of natural laws, in which experience of the world of ideas live, there is something which goes beyond the mere sensory experiences, so that when a natural scientific researcher confronts natural science, he must say to himself, if he is sufficiently unprejudiced: everything in the mind must be created out of the senses, only the mind itself can't be created out of the senses.

Once you have understood this in a lively manner then there is no obstacle to now observe what inwardly to some extent can be looked at in the pursuit of the expansion of the mind's categories through an inner soul-spiritual process, through such a process which is inwardly quite similar to the outer growth processes seen in the plant and animal. One remains always true to one's conviction of natural development when one admits that out of the seedling, if you have an inner image of it, you gain a truth which is that the mind itself can't be created out of the sense world. One remains true to that which is learnt from natural existence when you make an attempt to observe the human mind as a seedling which can grow within. When you make this attempt in earnest then the rest is a direct result of what I've suggested here and in other places, of the growth of human intellect in Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition. This is simply a fact for further progress in inner human development. Through this the result is a true observation of the spiritual world. This observation of the spiritual world Anthroposophy tries to clothe, as well as possible, in words of today's language use. Naturally one is often forced that what one is observing—I admit this without further ado—is clothed inadequately in words from the simple basis that speech, as in all modern languages, in the course of the last centuries adapted to the outer material world outlook and today we have the experience, which we have with words, of already being more or less orientated to this world outlook.

As a result, we always struggle with words if we need to dress in words what we have observed through Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition in such a way that it can really be proven again through the ordinary, healthy human mind, because this must also be a goal for Anthroposophical research.

So Anthroposophy was simply a field of work and as such a field of work it has become, in the strictest sense of the word, conceived by me. Those individuals—and they make a very small circle—who have the need to hear about such research methods in the supersensible world, will be told and shown what can be discovered in this way. Nobody in this Movement will be forced in any way to participate in something other than through their own free will. What is said about this, that some or other suggestive means is applied, with one person it is a conscious and with another it is an unconscious defamation of what is really striven for in the Anthroposophic Movement. It is true that whoever thinks it over with a healthy mind, what is researched in Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition, in his higher senses becomes a more free person than any other people living in the present. His contemporaries for instance follow currents in parties and are influenced by all kinds of suggestions. From this inner soul dependency Anthroposophy must free people, because it claims that everyone, who wants to live into it, will not merely become immobilised in simple passive thinking, but that this thinking will make them inwardly mobile and powerful, and this empowered thinking makes a person more free.

For reasons, into which I don't want to enter today, it happened that from the scientifically orientated people on which Anthroposophy actually depend, in the beginning only very few drew closer to Anthroposophy. Today we have really made a start. Those people who first entered into the Anthroposophical Movement—with more or less naive minds with strong soul needs—they were never told anything other than what could be found in a conscientious way within anthroposophic research. I'm always delighted when things are said to me, for example by one of those present here today, a very honourable personality: ‘It is actually remarkable that you even get a large audience, because you avoid actually talking in the way which is considered popular, which we call understandable. You speak in such a way that people actually always have to do work to listen and this people don't want these days, so one must actually wonder how you still manage to find such a large audience.’—These are what the words sound like, which I've heard for years and now a seated person here has also said them, after they had heard a course of my lectures at that time. For popularity I have never striven because I have the validity of Anthroposophy which I want to bring to the world.

Now it is extraordinary that people from all kinds of circles of life and circles of commitment have come. Because Anthroposophy came their way simply through their work in a certain relationship to religious streams of the present, it actually never came into conflict with religious needs of people who came to it: to people, like I said, from all walks of life. For instance, I have often been asked by Catholics who find themselves in our midst whether in connection with religious practice it would be possible to remain Catholics when they also take part in the Anthroposophical Movement.

With Catholics I must say: Obviously it is possible for a good Catholic to take part in what Anthroposophy has to offer because Anthroposophy is there, not to limit the knowledge which speaks about the supersensible world, but it forms a foundation on which supersensible research can be done. This is my preference, that what comes out of the supersensible world is spoken about without entering into any kind of polemic. Someone who honestly says what he sees, knows how polemic comes about and how unfruitful that really is. My original striving was simply to honestly say what is found through Anthroposophy and to exclude any polemic considerations. Things don't always happen this way in life. Still, within the Anthroposophical Movement people of all faiths are found together, and so I would like to say that Catholics may obviously take part in the Anthroposophic Movement, but it will only come into one single point of conflict in the practical religious exercises and that is the audible confession. Not on the basis of it being an audible confession because that could be considered as a matter of conscience. I have found enough protestant clergymen who have gloated over a kind of confession in order to develop an intimate relationship with the congregation. One can have various opinions regarding this. However, here the point is that the Catholic Church denies the altar sacrament to anyone who has not made an audible confession before it. Due to this impediment, taking part practically in the most important Catholic church sacrament is difficult because those beliefs which are gained from the supersensible world need to be combined with this behaviour which is not freely done but which have nevertheless to be adhered to in the Roman Catholic Church constitution. The audible confession, as it is handled, tears the Catholic away from freely following the supersensible world, not because of Anthroposophy but because of the Roman Catholic Church constitution.

This could be avoided if confession could be avoided. One can't avoid it because otherwise one can't participate in the communion service. Still you can find many Catholics who search within the Anthroposophical Movement to satisfy their soul needs.

My dear friends, it is of course natural that people of all beliefs come to Anthroposophy, it is natural that simply in our time a strong need has developed to express what Christianity is about within the Anthroposophical Society. Now I would like to say the following. Just as with all other phenomena of research, in as far as the phenomena of the supersensible and sensible world flow together, just so Anthroposophy regards the content of Christology; it likewise tries to help with research into the supersensible regarding the content of Christology, help which can be acquired through anthroposophical methods. Now it is difficult to say in only a few words what characterises the position of Anthroposophy regarding Christology, but I would like to say the following.

We observe people in earthly life between birth and death where they have their soul and spirit life in their physical being, that they are bound to their physical body in relation to what they observe and process whatever is presented to them in their environment, also in relation to work itself, in relation to their life of will and finally in the way in which they place themselves in the sensory physical world. When a person looks back at when he wakes up, naturally in his surroundings, he firstly finds perceptions possible through the senses of his body, through his mind, and all of these experiences and observations of his environment he experiences as combined.

However, because his mind, intellect and ancient spirituality are carried within his own spirit, so he can—if he only thinks enough about himself, if he only looks away from the environment and looks at himself—not deny that through his own activity he comes to the conclusion culminating in a concept which only has spiritual content and that this spiritual content—if I may express it this way—is the Father-godly imagination. Here anthroposophical research must be of help with its methods. I can only briefly characterise this. It makes the entire human cognitive work process clear—this will also emerge out of the lectures in this course. It also wants to point to what happens through people when they try to turn their gaze away from the outer world, in order to gradually observe their own past actions and ask themselves: What have you actually done? What justifies you at all to make an imagination of the outer world?—By researching this experience far enough a person—when I may use this expression again—comes to a Father-godly experience. Whoever examines this divine godly-Father experience through Anthroposophy, arrives at quite a definite judgement. I ask that this judgement, which is a fact, which I speak about radically, should not be misunderstood.

A person arrives at this verdict, a person who is totally healthy—totally in full health in his physical body—comes to this godly Father experience, this means that whoever doesn't arrive at this godly-Father experience carries some or another degenerative symptom, even if hidden. In other words, through Anthroposophical research you can say: To not come to a Father-godly experience indicates some human illness. That is of course radical to say because illness is ordinarily seen through physical means because—if I might say so—it dwells in the subtleties of the human organisation. In fact, it is clear to those who research through Anthroposophy: Atheism is illness.

What I've said yesterday about the development of opinions, right or wrong, this is particularly important here. If a person follows only this route then he will come to a Father-godly experience. When he then goes further in this way, if he becomes aware what shortcomings live in his soul, if he only comes to this Father-god experience, he becomes aware that basically in the limitation of modern humanity leaning towards intellectualism there also lies a kind of limitation of this godly-Father experience, then he will realise he must go further with this godly-Father experience. Here outer observations can support this easily.

It is an extraordinary fact that in western countries where natural science has grown to its maximum intensity and where this scientific attitude doesn't want to enter into discussing the supersensible but that religion must remain preserved, that just in these religious movements of western countries the spirit of the Old Testament has particularly and successfully intervened even in our modern time. We see how in the west, when Christianity is outwardly accepted and preached that it is done totally in the spirit of the Old Testament; in a certain sense Christianity reshapes the Father-god and doesn't discern a difference between the Father-god and Christ.

In the (European) east by contrast, where people's minds don't see the division between religion and science as sharply as in the west; in the east where this bridge for the human soul more or less exists as an elementary inner soul experience—we find that for example in the presentations of the great philosopher Vladimir Soloviev—how the Christ experience, as an independent experience, exists beside the Father experience.

In this way one can say to oneself: indeed, a completely healthy person can't be an atheist if he combines everything around him in the outer world into the culmination of a God-imagination, which he must give a spiritual content; yet he remains with only a Father-imagination. With this Father-imagination one doesn't arrive at a summary of outer natural phenomena, it fails immediately when applied to one's own human development; one is then, as it were, abandoned. By deepening this inner development from this point at which one has arrived, having taken up the outer world into one's soul—then by following this inner development one will, if by open-mindedly pursuing it, come to a Christ experience, which is initially present as an indefinite inner experience. This experience continues to be recognised by Anthroposophy. A person, simply through honest observation of the human evolution on earth, comes to seeing before his own eyes, the Mystery of Golgotha, the historic Mystery of Golgotha. He arrives here through the inner development of spiritual organs which direct him to Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition. If one with the help of these research means pursues the way human development went from antiquity to the Mystery of Golgotha, then one finds that everywhere in religious imagination—not only in the Old Testament religious imagination—lived a gravitation to the coming of the Christ-Spirit.

Then one can simply through observation, learn to recognise how the Christ-Spirit was not united with the earth in the time before the Mystery of Golgotha. By pursuing all of this which was sought for in the mysteries, was popular in pre-Christian religions, then we see how the images they made of their gods, finally all melt together into what the Christ-Imagination is. We see how the minds of people all over the world are lifted to the supernatural when they turn to their gods in their souls. We see how the point of origin for earthly mankind's development was simply more given through the human organisation than what was perceived through the senses or the mind in what could be observed in his surroundings. It entered into the human soul—most strongly in ancient times, and then less and less—what I would call instinctive perception—not earthly—of the world, to which the human being felt he belonged. In the moment when a person, through the mysteries or through popular religion, is brought to where he can lift his soul into seeing extra-terrestrially, and with which he knows he is united in his deepest being, at this moment a person experiences a rebirth within himself.

Now my dear friends, when we follow human evolution from an Anthroposophic point of view up to the Mystery of Golgotha, it shows that these abilities, which dwelt within human beings, actually diminished gradually and were no longer there the moment the Mystery of Golgotha took place on the earth. Certainly there can be remnants, for evolution doesn't take place in leaps. Individuals preserved, though perhaps inaccurately but still instinctively, an awareness of what had once been seen; this can be pursued in art. Then the Mystery of Golgotha took place on earth. In the Mystery of Golgotha Anthroposophy sees the streaming in of that spirit which previously could only be searched for in the extra-terrestrial: the in streaming of the Christ into the human body of Jesus. How this can individually be imagined, can only be discussed with those who have engaged positively in these fields of research. Here Anthroposophy shows how from that time onwards, from the time of the Mystery of Golgotha, another time has begun on earth, a time about which all the old religious knowledge confessed about. The Christ who went through the Mystery of Golgotha, the Christ who Paul saw on the way to Damascus, the Christ then remained within in the earth with humanity. This is what these words want to say: “I am with you every day until the end of the world.” He lives among us, He can be found again. The Paul experience can, with certain preparation, be renewed time and time again. Then, if Christ is searched for in this way, a person—by looking at his own inner development—just as since the Mystery of Golgotha happened on earth—can see Christ walking; he discovers Christ in his inner life in the same way as when in the outer world—if he is not ill with atheism—he found the Father-god.

Thus, I can only fleetingly, in a sketch, indicate how Anthroposophy through real research of the Christ event, can arrive at an inner objective fact. With all possible detail Anthroposophy tries to present the Christ event as the most important fact of the earthly life of humanity, as something which happened objectively. For this reason, the entire spirit through which the Christ event is presented in Anthroposophy is done in such a way that this event can be absorbed simply as fact. We have within the anthroposophic movement experienced that for example Jewish confessors found themselves in the most genuine, truest and honest sense in recognising the Mystery of Golgotha. With this, my dear friends, the Anthroposophical Movement has already anticipated what after all must enter into human evolution: through directly pointing to what can be seen in the Mystery of Golgotha, how the way to Christianity can be found again.

There is always a question whether there isn't yet a deep meaning in the book by Overbeck, a friend of Friedrich Nietzsche, that modern theology is no longer Christian. If this is legitimate then one could even, perhaps with a certain right, say: Anthroposophy is suitable for directing people in a lively way to the Christ experience. It states that during the time in which the Christ event took place there still existed an instinctive insight among some individuals, so that the spiritual foundation, or I might call it, the spiritual substantiality of the Mystery of Golgotha could be seen and acknowledged in the first Christian centuries. We then see how this diminished gradually; we see it completely fade in the figure of Scotus Erigena, we see medieval theology spreading where the attempt was being made to separate itself from what modern humanity had to develop in the intellect, that which, when it is left to the person who no longer develops inwardly, he becomes incapable of accessing the supersensible worlds. It split what wanted to enter into the human soul into what was recognisable by the intellect, and what people could not attain themselves, except through a revelation.

On this basis one can understand the entire medieval theology, especially Thomistic theology which was considered by Catholicism as the only authority. Today something can be said about this. What Anthroposophy was and is, is nothing other than simply to express what exists and is available through spiritual observation.

As Anthroposophy comes to the proposition that atheism is actually a hidden illness, it arrives at a second proposition: Not finding the Christ, not finding a relationship with the Christ is destiny for humanity, is the fate of misfortune. Atheism is an illness, not finding the Christ is the fate of misfortune because one can find Him in an inward experience. Then He positions Himself there as that Being who has gone through the Mystery of Golgotha. One can only discover Christ through one's inner life; one doesn't need anthroposophical research to be a religious person in the Christian sense. Then again, when one has come to Christ, one becomes a member of the spiritual world and one can really speak about a resurrection of the human being in the spiritual world, because the person who fails to find Christ in regard to his world view, is restricted. Atheism is an illness! Not coming to Christ is a destiny, not reaching the spirit is soul obtuseness!

Now, my dear friends, Anthroposophy relates from such foundations basically only to religion (and not theology) and to religion only in as far as people who have religious needs and who are unable to fulfil them through current declarations, approach Anthroposophy. Anthroposophy will only do what is necessary within the needs of today, and that which others fail to do. What ethos is at this basis—I have to always characterise this again—you can find from the following.

Some years ago, I once held a lecture in a southern German town—at that time it was a German town but it no longer is—a lecture entitled “Bible and Wisdom”. Two Catholic priests were present at the lecture. After the lecture they both approached me and said: “We actually haven't found anything in your lecture which could be challenged from a Catholic point of view.”

I answered: “If only I could always be so lucky!”

To this they both replied: “Yes, but we noticed something, it is not what you say but it is the manner and way how you present it. We must add that you speak to people who are prepared in a certain way. You lecture to a kind of congregation who have a certain education; we, however, speak to all people.”

I said: “Reverend, it doesn't come down to how our subjective experiences decide, but it comes down to us living into our work in evolution, that we don't imagine we speak for all people but that we answer such a question according to what objectively lives in the evolution of humanity. So, I can imagine I speak for all people—and could be very mistaken—you can imagine that. It is very good for enthusiasm to have such an imagination. Still, ask yourselves for once: do all people who have the need to hear something about Christ all come to church?”

Both of them couldn't say yes because naturally they knew that a lot of people who search for a way to Christ, do not come to the church.

So I said: “You see, for those who don't come to you and still search for a way to Christ, it is for those I speak.”

This means finding your task in the evolution of time, and not to imagine you speak for everyone, but to ask: are there minds out there who want to accept this or that in a special way?

Anthroposophy never turns to any other mindset, like to some or other religious confession.

When we, in the Waldorf School, manage to apply teaching in a practical way out of Anthroposophy we still completely avoid making the Waldorf School a school which will splice Anthroposophy into the heads of the children. With regards to religious instruction, we leave the Catholic children to be instructed by a catholic priest and the evangelists by an evangelist priest. Only for the dissident children there is a freer kind of religious instruction, but in the thorough Christian sense. We don't introduce abstract Anthroposophy—also no concrete anthroposophy which is presented to grown-ups—but we try with all our good intensions to bring to the children what is suitable to the stage of their development; all of that must first be searched for and determined according to the content and method. Through those of us who have given free religious instruction, we have managed to bring those children who have no religious instruction as such, towards Christianity and they come in droves to take part in this kind of religious instruction. Never have we preached some or other kind of religious propaganda within the Anthroposophical Movement and even less would Anthroposophy embark on something against single theological systems. With this in mind, anthroposophy can only apply itself to finding differences in separate theological systems in order to understand them and not to oppose them. Thus, I've always regarded it to be my task when I speak to people who have come to Anthroposophy: to make it understandable why Catholicism has become Catholic, Protestants Protestant, Judaism Jewish and Buddhism Buddhistic and how all of them—I believe that is a Christian concept—have within them a Being who through their destiny will let them experience the true Christ.

So it is not possible, if attacks have not originated from the other side, to start a struggle between Anthroposophy and theology, and also today I want to utter these words, while it has been asked for from those who organised today's theologian's day. The only task of Anthroposophy is the pronouncement of anthroposophic research results about the supersensible worlds. This is why I have always been reticent in particular regarding attacks originating from the theological side.

Anthroposophy doesn't want to act as a fighter on the scene but to satisfy the legitimate demands of human soul needs of the time. Everyone who in this sense wants to work together with Anthroposophy and wants to bring to the surface the fulfilment of legitimate, soul foundations of human soul needs, everyone who wants to work with her in this sense, is welcome!

My dear venerated guests! The organisers of this university course have asked me to introduce the reflections of the day through some remarks and so I will introduce today's work in a certain aphoristic manner to open our discussion. I am aware that this is no easy task at present. Once in Stuttgart I gave a short course to a smaller circle regarding the items I want to talk about today and it became clear to me that one really needs a lot of time to discuss such controversial things as we would like to talk about today. So I'm only going to suggest a few things about the spirit of our reflection which is required by Anthroposophy in relation to observing human speech.

When speech is the subject and when one sets the goal to treat speech scientifically, then one must be clear that it is not as easy to have speech as an object for scientific treatment as it is for instance about human beings relating to nature or to the physical nature of the human being. In these cases, one has at least a clear outline for the observation of the object. Certainly one can discuss to what a degree observation lies at its foundation, or if it is merely a process being grasped through human research capabilities of an unknown origin. However, this is then a discussion which happens purely within the course of thought. What is presented as an object of observation is a closed object, a given.

This is not the case in spoken language. A large part of speech means that through a person speaking, something is unfolding which was already in the subconscious regions of the human soul life. Something strikes upward from these subconscious regions and what rises, connects to conscious elements which gradually, like harmonics, move with it in an unconscious or subconscious stream. That which is momentarily present in the consciousness, what is present as we speak, that is only partially the actual object essential for our observation. One can, if one remains within the current speech habits of people, acquire a certain possibility of bringing language as an object into consciousness, also when one is speaking. I would like to present in a modest way an example which could perhaps illustrate this.

During Christmas in Dornach I held a lecture cycle at the Goetheanum regarding pedagogical didactic themes. This lecture cycle came about as a request which resulted in a row of English teachers coming to the lectures which they had asked for. When it became known that this course was going to take place, people from other countries in western and middle Europe, namely Switzerland, also gathered to listen to the lectures. Because this course couldn't contain the 900 visitors in the large auditorium of the Goetheanum, but could only be held in a smaller hall, I was notified to give the lectures twice, one after the other. Already before this I believed that to a certain degree it would be necessary to separate the English speakers from those who belonged to other nationalities—not out of political grounds; I stressed this clearly. The lecture cycle was given throughout also for the English speakers; because when people want to hear something about Anthroposophy, wherever it is presented, I always speak German to them. I thought this was something through which its “Germanic” nature could be documented, whereby the German character and German language can be served.

In one of these lectures I had to discuss ethical and moral education. I tried in the course of the lectures to show how the child can be guided in these steps inwardly in its earthly life, which could bring about a certain ethical and moral attitude in the child.

If I would today again speak in front of individuals who listen in the same way as some had listened yesterday, then one could again construe that I spoke out of direct experience, as it happened yesterday, when I spoke about the Trinity. However, Dr Rittelmeyer responded so clearly with a comparison between the book and the mind, which understandably I didn't wish to do.

In this lecture I want to indicate the ethical, moral education towards which the child needs to be orientated so that it is done in the right way: feelings of gratitude, interest in the world, love for the world and his or her own activity and action; and I would like to show how, through love imbuing their activity and actions they are steered to something which can be called human duty. It would be necessary for this trinity to be taken directly out of life's experience and express them in three words—we're talking about language here. I arrived at the first two steps, Gratitude and Love, then the third step: Duty. Despite having to give the lecture twice, once from 10 to 11 o'clock for the English audience, and a second time from 11 to 12 for other nationalities, the latter with their frame of mind being that of central Europeans, I actually had to do these lectures which should simply have been parallel, in quite a different way for the English than for the Germans because I needed to make an effort to live into the mood of my audience. Something similar applied to the other days but on this day, it was particularly necessary.

Why was this so? Yes, while I spoke about duty during the hour from 11 to 12, my entire audience experienced it through words of the German language; I had spoken in the first hour from 10 to 11 what I had to say about their experience of the “Pflicht”-impulse, which they call “duty.” Now it is quite a different experience when one expresses the word “Pflicht” to the word “duty” and in the 11 to 12 o'clock lecture I had to allow nuances of experience to flow into what happens when one says “Pflicht.” When one says “Pflicht” one touches an impulse through these words which comes out of the emotional life, which flows directly into experience as something—which I want to say verbatim—is related to “pflegen” (to care for). Out of this activity flows the feeling, as to what belongs to this activity. This is the impulse which one designates to the word “Pflicht.” Something quite different lives in the soul when this impulse is designated by the word “duty,” because just as much as the word “Pflicht” points to the feelings, so the word “duty” points to the intellect, to the mind, to what is directed from within, like how thoughts are being conducted when one goes over into activity. One could say “Pflicht” is fulfilled through inner love and devotion, duty is fulfilled from the basis of a human being, when sensing his human dignity, must say to himself: you must obey a law which penetrates you, you must devote yourself to the law which you have grasped intellectually. This is roughly characterised. However, with this I want to bring into expression how inner complexes of experience are quite different between one word and another, and yet despite this the dictionary says the German word “Pflicht” translates to the English word of “duty”. This is however transmitted by the spirit of the folk, in the folk soul and in the speech, you have nuances of the entire folk soul. You are going to see that in the soul of central Europeans, in relation to this, it looks quite different compared with souls of other nationalities; that the soul life is experienced quite differently in speech by central Europeans compared with the English nation.

A person who has no sense for the unconscious depths of soul where speech comes from, which lies deeper than what is experienced consciously, will actually be unable to obtain a sober objectivity for scientific observation of speech. One should be clear about one thing. With nature observation the objects present themselves, or one can clean them up through outer handling in order to have the object outside oneself and thus able to research it. To consider speech it is necessary to first examine the process of consciousness in order to come to what the object essentially is which one wants to examine. So one can, where speech is the subject, not merely consider what lives in human consciousness, but in considering speech one needs to have the entire living person before you who expresses himself in speaking and speech.

This preparation for the scientific speech observation is very rarely done. If such preparation would be undertaken then one would, if one takes linguistic history or comparative linguistics, move towards having a deep need to first contemplate the inner unconscious content of that language, the unconscious substance which in speaking only partly comes to expression.

Now we arrive at something else, namely, during the various stages of human development this degree of consciousness associated with language was quite varied. It was quite different for example during the times in which Sanskrit had its origins; different again during the time the Greek language developed, another time than we had here in Germany—but here nuances became gradually less recognisable—and in another time, it happened for instance in England. There are already great variations in the inner experience of the conduct in the English language when used by an Englishman or American, if I observe only the larger differences. Whoever takes up the study of dialects will enter into how the different dialects in the language is experienced by the people who use it, and take note of all the complicated soul impulses streaming through it which comes into expression as speech in the vocal organism. It is for instance not pointless that when the Greek speakers say “speech” (Sprache) or when they say “reason” (Vernunft), they consider both these words as essentially the same and can condense them into one word, because the experience within the words and the experience within thoughts, within mental images, flow together, undifferentiated, in the Greek application of speech, while in our current epoch differentiations show themselves in this regard. The Greek always felt words themselves rolled around in his mind when he spoke; for him thoughts were the “soul” and words streaming in formed the “body”, the outer garments one could call it, the word-soul streaming in thought. Today we feel, when we clearly bring this process into consciousness, as if on the one side we would say a word—the word streams towards what we express—and on the other side the thoughts swim in the stream of words; it is however soon clearly differentiated from the stream of words.

If we return for instance to Sanskrit then it is necessary to undergo essential psychological processes first, to experience psychic processes, in order to reach the possibility to live inwardly with what at the time of Sanskrit's origin was living in the words. We may not at any stage confront Sanskrit with the same feelings when regarding its expression, when regarding its language, as we would do with a language today.

Let's take for example a familiar word: “manas”. If you now open the dictionary you would find a multitude of words for “manas”: spirit, mind, mindset, sometimes also anger, zeal and so on. Basically, with such a translation one arrives at an experience of a word which once upon a time existed when it was quite clearly and inwardly experienced, not nearly. Within the epoch when Sanskrit lived at the height of its vitality, with a different soul constitution as it has today, it was essentially something different. We must clearly understand that human evolution already existed as a deep transformation of the human soul constitution. I have repetitively characterized this transformation as having taken place somewhere in the 15th Century. There are however ever and again such boundaries of the epochs when going through human evolution, and only when one can follow history as the inner soul life of the people can one discover what really existed and how the life of speech played its part.

It was during such a time when the word “manas” could still be grasped inwardly in a vital way, when something existed which I would like to call the experience of the meaning of sound. In an unbelievable intense way one experienced what lived inwardly in the sounds, which we designate today as m, as a, as n and as s. The life of soul rose to a higher level—still dreamily, yet in a conscious dream—with its inward living within the organism when the vocals and consonants were pronounced. Whoever uses such scientific tools for researching how speech lives within people, will find that everything resembling consonants depends upon people placing themselves into external processes, into things, and that the inner life of things with their own inner, but restrained gestures, want to copy it. Consonants are restrained gestures, gestures not becoming visible but which through their content certainly capture that which can outwardly be experienced in the role of thunder, lightning flashes, in the rolling wind and so on. An inner inclusion of oneself in outer things is available when consonants are experienced.

We actually want to, if I might express myself like this, imitate through gestures all that lives and weaves outside of us; but we restrain our gestures and they transform themselves within us and this transformation appears as consonants.

By contrast, by opposing external nature, mankind has living within itself a number of sympathies and antipathies. These sympathies and antipathies within their most inner existence form gestures out of the collective vowel system, so that the human being, through experiencing speech, lives in such a way that he, within the nature of the consonants, imitate the outer world—but in a transformed way—so that in contrast, through the vowels, he forms his own inner relationship to the outer world.

This is something which can certainly be understood and examined through today's soul life if one enters into the concrete facts of the speech experience. It deals with what is illustrated as imagination, not as some or other fantasy, but that for example the inner process of the speech experience can really be looked at.

Now in ancient times, in which Sanskrit had its original source, there was still something like a dreamlike imagination living within the human soul. Not a clearly delineated mental picture like we have today was part of man, but a life in pictures, in imaginations—certainly not the kind of imaginations we talk about in Anthroposophy today, which are fully conscious with our sharply outlined concepts, but dreamlike instinctive imaginations. Still, these dreamlike imaginations worked as a power. If we go back up to the time we are talking about, one can say these imaginations lived as a vital power in people: they sensed it, like they sensed hunger and thirst, only in a gentler manner. One painted in an internal manner, which is not painting as in today's sense, but in such a way as to experience the inward application of vocalisation, like we apply colour to a surface. Then one lives into the consonants through the vocalization, just as when, by placing one colour beside another, one brings about boundaries and contours. It is an inner re-experience of imaginations, which presents an objective re-living of outer nature. It is the re-living of dreamlike imaginations. One surrenders oneself to these imaginations and inverts the inner processed imaginations through the speech organs into words.

Only in this way does one imagine the inner process of the life of speech in the way it was once experienced in human evolution. If one becomes serious about such an observation, for example through the experience of tones, which we call ‘m’ today, we notice that with the experience of this sound, we stand at once on the boundary between what is consonant and what is vowel. Just like we paint a picture and then the colours, which have their inner boundaries and outer limitations and do not continue over the surface, just so something is expressed in the word “manas”. With ‘a’ something resembling human inwardness is sensed. If one wishes to describe the word “manas” I have to say: In olden times people lived in their dream-like imaginations in the language, just as we experience speech consciously now. We no longer live in relation to speech in dream pictures, but our consciousness lies over speech. Old dreamlike imaginations flowed continuously in the language. So when they said the word “manas” they felt as if in some kind of shell, they felt their physical human body in as far as it is liquid aqueous, like a kind of shell, and the rest of the body as if carried in a kind of air body. All of this was experienced in a dreamlike manner in olden times when the word “manas” was spoken out. People didn't feel like we do today in our soul life, because people felt themselves to be the bearers of the soul life—and the soul itself one experienced as having been born out of the supersensible and super-human forces of the shell.

You must first make this experience lively if you want to understand the content of older words. We must realise that when we experience our “I” today it is quite different from what it was when the word “ego” was for instance come across in humanity in earlier times, when the word “aham” was experienced in the Sanskrit language. We sense our “I” today as something which is completely drawn to a single point, a central point to which our inner being and all our soul forces relate.

This experience does not underlie the older revelations of the I-concept. In these olden times a person felt his own I as something which had to be carried; one didn't feel as if you were within it. One then experienced the I to some extent as a surging of soul life swimming independently. What one felt was not indicated by the linguistic context—what lay in the Sanskrit word “aham” shows it is something around the I, which carries the I . While we feel the I inwardly as will impulses—we really experience it this way today—which permeates our inner being, we say that as its central point it is a spring of warmth, which streams with warmth—to make a comparison—streaming out on all sides, this is how the Greek or even the Latin experienced the I like a sphere of water, with air permeating this sphere completely. It is something quite different to feel yourself living in a sphere of water within extended air, or to experience the inward streaming towards a central point of warmth and to stream out warmth to the periphery of the sphere and then—if I might use this comparison more precisely—to be grasped as a sphere of light.

These are all symbols. Yet the words of a language are in this sense also symbols, and if you deny the ability of words to indicate symbols, you would be totally unable to be impressed by such a consideration. It is necessary in the research of linguistics that one first lives into what actually has to become the object of linguistics. Now, one finds that in ancient times, the language had a considerably different character than what exists in civilisation's current language; further, one finds that the physical, the bodily, played a far greater part in the establishment of phonetics, in the establishment of word configuration. The human being gave much more of his inner life in speech. That is why you have ‘m’ at the start of “manas” because this enclosed the human being, formed a contour around him or her.

When you have Sanskrit terms in front of yourself, you soon notice you can experience the nature of the consonants and vowels within it. You notice how in this activity an inner experience in the external events and external things are present and how this results in the consonants being imitated, so vocal sympathies and antipathies are discovered where the word process and the speech process merge. In ancient times a much more bodily nuance came about. One had a far greater experience in the ancient life of speech. This one can still experience. If today you hear someone speaking in Sanskrit or the language of an oriental civilisation, how it sounds out of their bodily nature, and how speech absorbs the musical characteristics, it is because such an experience rises out of the musical element. Only in a later phase of human evolution the musical elements in speech split away from the logical, thus also away from the soul life, into mere conceptions.

This is still noticeable today. When for instance you compare the inner experience in the German and in the English language, you notice that in the English language the process of abstract-imagery-life have made greater progress. If we want to live in the German language today we must live into those forms of the speech which came about in New High German.¹ The dialects still lets our soul become immersed in a far more intensive and vital experience. The actual spiritual experience of the language is primarily only possible in High German. Thus, a figure such as Hegel who was born out of this spirit, for whom the mental images are particular to him and yet it is also quite connected to a particular element within the language, out of these causes it has come about that Hegel is in reality not translatable into a western language, because here one experiences the literal fluency (Sprachliche) even more directly.

When you go towards the west you notice throughout within the observation how the soul unfolds when it is given over to the use of language: the soul experiences it intensively, however the literal fluency (Sprachliche) is thrown out of the direct soul experience throughout; it flows away in the stream of speech and continuously, to some degree, out of the flowing water something is created like ice floes, like when something more solid is rolling over the waves—as for instance in English. When, by contrast, we speak High German, we can observe how a person in the stream of speech is in any case within the fluidity of it but in which there are not yet any ice blocks which have already fallen out of the literal fluency, which are connected with the soul-spiritual of the human being.

Now when we come towards the east, one finds this process in a stage which is even further back. Now you don't see ice floes which are thrown out of the stream of speech, and which are not firmly connected with it; here also, as not in High German, the entire adequacy of thoughts are experienced with the word but the word is experienced in such a way that a person retains it in his organism, while thoughts in their turn flow into the words, which one runs after but which actually goes before you.

These are the things which one has to live through when one wants to really understand literal fluency. One can't experience this if one doesn't at least to a certain degree take on the contemplation which Goethe developed for the observation of the living plant world and which, when in one's inner life, these are followed with inner consequential exercises, leading towards mental pictures about what is meant in Anthroposophy. Anyway, if you want to look at the language, you must observe it in such a way that you live within the inner metamorphosis of the organising of the language, experience in its inner concreteness, because only then will you have in front of you, what the speech process is. As long as you are unable to rise up to such inner observations of speech, you are only looking at speech in an outer way, and you will be unable to penetrate the actual living object of language. As a result, all kinds of theories of speech have appeared. Ideas about language have in many cases become thought-related regarding the origins of language; a number of theories have resulted from this. Wilhelm Wundt enumerated them in his theory of language and picked them apart critically.

This is the way things are today in many areas and how it was observed yesterday. When the bearers of some scientific angle today raises into full contemplation regarding what he has observed within the science and he represents it thus, then talk starts to develop about “decline”. This is actually not really what Anthroposophy wants to tell you. Basically, for example, yesterday very little was said about decline; but very much not so in the case of those who stand within theology, for they are experiencing a decline.

Similarly, there is also talk regarding the philosophy of language, of declining theories, for instance with the “theory of creative synthesis/invention” (Erfindungstheorie). Wundt lists his different theories. Following on the theory of invention the language developed in such a way that humanity, to some extent, fixed the designations of things; however, this is no longer appropriate for current humanity because today the question they ask is how could the dumb have fixed forms of language while still so primitive?

As his second, Wundt presents his “theory of wonder” (Wundertheorie) which assumes that at a certain stage of evolution human speech/language arrived as a gift from the Creator. Dr Geyer already dealt with this yesterday; currently it is no longer valid for a decent scientist to believe in wonder; it is prohibited, and so the theory of wonder is no longer acceptable. Further down his list is the “theory of imitation” (Nachahmungstheorie) which already contains elements which have a partial authorisation because it is based on elements of consonants in speech being far more on an inner process than what is usually imagined. Then the “natural sound theory” (Naturlauttheorie) followed which claimed that out of inner experience the human being aspired towards phonetically relating what he perceived out in nature, into the form of speech, according to his sympathies or antipathies. These theories could be defined differently. Today it is quite possible to show that on the basis of those who criticise these theories, it becomes apparent that these theories can't determine the actual object of language.

Dear friends, the thing is actually like this: Anthroposophy—even when people say they don't need to wait for her—can still show in a certain relationship, what can be useful in this case, through which—even in such areas as linguistics—firstly the sober, pure object is to be found, on which the observation can be based.

Obviously anything possible can be discussed, also regarding language, even when one actually doesn't approach it as a really pure object. Anthroposophy bears within it a profound scientific character which assumes that first of all one must be clear what kind of reality there is to be found in specific areas, in order for the relationships we have regarding truth and wisdom to penetrate these areas, so that these areas of reality can actually become inward experiences. As we saw happening here yesterday, then in relation to such earnest work which is not more easily phrased in other sciences, it is said that these Anthroposophists stick their noses into everything possible, then it must be answered: Certainly it is apparent that Anthroposophy in the course of its evolution must stick its nose into everything. When this remark doesn't remain in superficiality, this ‘Anthroposophy sticks her nose into everything possible’—but if one wants to make progress to really behold and earnestly study the results, when it comes down to Anthroposophy sticking its nose into everything, only then, when this second stage in the relationships to Anthroposophy is accomplished, will it show how fruitful Anthroposophy is and in how far its legitimacy goes against the condemnation that it merely originates from superficial observation!

• 1. Hochdeutch or High German is the pure German language without the influence of dialects, which is also understood by most Germans. New High German differs from Old High German as the latter refers to more historic times. Schriftliche Deutch is the German most widely used in school instruction, standardization, etc.—translator

What I have to present this evening will be only a modest introduction to what I will endeavor to discuss here in the next few evenings in individual chapters about Anthroposophy.

Anthroposophy did not come about as a result of asking: What are the needs, what is the quest of our present age, what interests and longings does this present age have with regard to its spiritual life? That would be an abstract question. And just as in ordinary life, as a rule, one does not find what one is looking for without having a proper mental image of it, so one will probably not be able to satisfy the search in the spiritual life of an age if one does not already start from a very definite, concrete mental image of what this age is seeking. But although anthroposophy did not start from these abstract questions, it will be possible to speak afterwards about whether, now that it is here, it can in some sense spiritually satisfy the most important questions and needs of our age.

Anthroposophy actually started out from the needs of science itself, as it has developed in our age, after it has completed its, one may say, great and powerful triumphal march through the last three to four centuries. Anthroposophy has emerged from this scientific endeavor by simultaneously attempting to address the ways in which the Goethean worldview can provide fertile ground for the scientific spirit of the present. So that one can say – allow me this personal remark – when the necessity of an anthroposophical spiritual science became apparent to me, on the one hand it was the opinion that the present scientific spirit in particular must develop to a scientific understanding of the supersensible life, and secondly, what could be gained from a living understanding of Goethe's worldview, which was connected to this scientific endeavor itself. I have been seeking this development for Anthroposophy since the 1880s. When one hears views about anthroposophy today that are more superficial, they often sound as if anthroposophy had emerged from the chaos that has arisen for the spiritual life of the entire civilized world during and after the catastrophe of war, as if it were a dark, mystical force. This is simply not the case. This anthroposophy has been working in earnest for decades, and has emerged from very different conditions.

But as I said, once it is there, we can ask whether it meets a need, a longing in the spiritual life of our time. To answer this question, we must look at the special character, at the deeper peculiarities of the spiritual life of our age. There we shall find, I believe, a trait that is particularly characteristic. Of course, if you say something like that, someone can point out numerous exceptions. They are not to be denied at all. But what I want to characterize is the general trend in the lives of people of this age.

Do we not have to say to ourselves in the present, when we have grown a little older, that we mostly approach today without joy, without enthusiastic devotion to the tasks of life? This seems to be a pessimistic view, but it does not want to be. It simply wants to look with open eyes at what is, after all, a pervasive trait in the lives of contemporary people. We grow up, are educated, and are also brought forward by life. When we then face our own professional tasks, when we face the sufferings and even the joys of life, we do not know how to find our way into the situation of the world with our full humanity today. And from this trend, a most important area of observation will arise for our age in particular, which immediately points characteristically to the deepest peculiarities of our time. When we stand as human beings in later life today, we can no longer look back, in memory of our youth, of our childhood, as once the human being looked back on this youth, on this childhood. Those who have done a certain amount of inner historical research can say this unequivocally. When we look back at our childhood and youth, what rises up from that childhood and youth is not what fills us with joy, enthusiasm, and initiative, what gives us strength from a time that we have lost externally but that could be within us, inspiring us and strengthening us internally. It may be a radical statement, but in a sense it is true: we, as adults of our time, have largely lost our youth, our childhood. And this is particularly evident from the fact that, if we now turn our gaze more to social life, we, as adults, find it so difficult to communicate with young people. It is a general trait of our age, again, that there is a fermenting striving in youth, but that in the wide field this youth comes to the view that age can no longer be what their heart, what their soul longs for. A deep gulf has emerged in our age – some do not admit it, but it is nevertheless the case – between youth and the adult generation. But this very gulf indicates that the human being, who, one might say, brings with him into the world today, out of his full, childlike humanity, that which, whatever his origin, he brings with him through birth into this physical existence - that the human being does not find what he demands of life by virtue of the eternal that is born with him. It is precisely because the young person does not find this in the spiritual life, in life in general, that what our present time so strongly lacks is revealed. The word 'youth movement' has become a familiar one today. And the youth movement is particularly evident among young people who are growing into the spiritual professions; who are growing into a life through which a person is to become a leader in the spiritual, social, moral, artistic and religious needs of their age.

And if we now ask ourselves why so little of the spiritual life that exists satisfies the growing human being, then this question will perhaps be answered, if not fully, then at least illuminated, by looking at the various branches of our spiritual life today: Within the horizon that presents itself to us in the scientific, artistic, moral, social and religious fields, we find that, if I may express it this way, these individual branches of life, which man needs if he is to become a full personality, no longer understand each other, and that they therefore conflict with each other in man, in the human personality.

Anyone who today wants to rebel against what the scientific spirit of the last few centuries, especially since the middle of the 15th century, has brought about in the overall development of humanity, would be a fool. And anthroposophy must not be understood as if it wanted to take up an opposing position to this scientific spirit of our age. This spirit has brought forth in scientific research itself an enormous conscientiousness and exactness of method. I would like to say that the first question for this scientific spirit has become: How can one achieve certainty in the search for truth? — This scientific spirit of the present is striving for certainty in the search for truth. And tremendous achievements have been made, not only in the field of knowledge, but also in practical life, especially in the technical fields of our age. And yet, when we ask ourselves: Does this spirit of science satisfy the pressing sense of youth, does today's youth grow into this spirit of science in such a way that they feel there is something that flows towards them for their full humanity? We cannot answer this question in the affirmative. If we do so, it is because we are indulging in empty illusions or because we want to spread a fog before our spiritual eyes. For this spirit of science is in strange conflict with other areas of life.

First of all, there is the artistic field. Having developed the spirit of science with its exact methods and rigorously trained thinking, artists, those who want to pursue life artistically, who want to enjoy life artistically, feel that they must actually keep the artistic at a distance from this spirit of science. We hear it everywhere today that what art wants to create, what art wants to educate, must come from completely different human sources than what science fathoms in a certain, intellectualistic way of observing. And when someone wants to bring the spirit of today's science into artistic creation, one has the feeling that they are corrupting artistic creation, that the spirit of science has no place in art, that science investigates truth in a way that must not be transferred to the artistic.

Now, the Greeks were familiar with such a strict separation of what man allows to be revealed to him by the world through the artistic sense on the one hand and through the scientific spirit on the other; the Greeks were familiar with such a strict separation within themselves, within which, on the one hand, a brilliant scientific spirit had already emerged and, on the other hand, an ideal art. And even in more recent times, Goethe did not want such a separation, having immersed himself completely in the Greek worldview. Goethe, for example, did not want to speak of a separate idea of truth, of beauty, of religion or piety. Goethe wanted to know the idea as one, and in religion and art and science he wanted to see only different revelations of the one spiritual truth. Goethe spoke of art as a revelation of the secret laws of nature, which would never be revealed without art. For Goethe, science was something that he placed on one side, which has a different language than art; on the other hand, art was something that had yet another language. But only when both work together in man can man, in the Goethean sense, fathom the full truth. Today, we think about how the scientific spirit, which proceeds exactly from conclusion to conclusion, from observation to observation, from experiment to experiment, must undermine the context of artistic imagination; how there is no justification for wanting to fathom anything of the truth of the world through art itself. How, in other words, a strict separation must be made between art and science. Do we not have to say that science, on the one hand, strives for certainty, for a conscientious method, that above all it wants to have certainty, that it wants to present things, if I may put it this way, in such a way that they can be retained and must be recognized by every unbiased human mind? But in striving for this great certainty, one does not have the confidence in what one is fathoming about nature and man through this science that it could somehow have significance for something that also belongs to the satisfaction of the whole human being: for artistic creation or artistic enjoyment. A rigid science is established, but there is no trust that it may have a say where it is concerned with even more human needs, or at least more inward human needs than those of science itself: artistic needs. Of course, a clear distinction can be made between science and art. I can understand anyone who says: Oh, that's just a phrase, a figure of speech, when someone speaks disparagingly of this distinction between science and art. It has to be there, after all. As I said, I can understand it. In the depths of the human soul, there is something that strives for unity, for harmony of the individual soul activities. And while on the one hand logic carries out the separation between science and art, something in us demands balance, the harmonization of scientific truths on the one hand, and artistic truths on the other. Something in us, very deep in our soul, demands that what we extract from nature and man as scientific truth should also have the power to generate artistic initiative in us, without our lapsing into straw allegories or abstract symbolism. There is a definite need in the depths of the soul not to leave the knowledge that science fathoms lifeless, but to enliven it in such a way that something of this scientific knowledge can truly flow over into art, as Goethe was aware of, that for him the ripest fruits of his artistic creativity flowed over from his conception of science.

The great question, not precisely formulated but deeply felt, resounds to us from the longings of our age: the profound question of how we can gain such trust in science, which above all has sought certainty, that we may penetrate through it into the realms of truth that confront us in artistic creation, in artistic formation? And that is one of the most profound questions for present-day humanity.

One could debate and discuss at length the fact that there must be a clear distinction between the logical-observational, scientific method and artistic creation, artistic design. But suppose that in the realm of reality the matter were so that when we come up to man from the realm of the lower nature kingdoms and now wanted to apply the laws of nature to man, as we get to know them in the sense of today's certain science, then we simply could not get to know man. Indeed, it could even be that nature itself creates artistically, that in the various realms of nature there is not only such creation as lies within the meaning of the present natural laws, and that this is particularly not the case in the human realm, but that nature itself, as Goethe assumed, is a great artist, and that we, no matter how critically we approach the subject and say to ourselves, “We must not introduce fantasy into science,” it could be that, by logically setting this before us, we simply limit our knowledge, kill it, because nature is artistic and only yields to artistic observation.

Of course, if one expresses this initially in the hypothetical form in which I am doing so now, it can be contested in many ways. But anyone who is sufficiently of a psychologist to look into the depths of the soul of modern man knows that there is a particular anxiety in the mind today regarding the question: Should we not, if we strive scientifically, have the same in our state of mind as that which forms and shapes artistically? But what if we cannot get into nature any other way? What if nature wants to be grasped artistically? What if human nature in particular wants to be grasped artistically, even in its physical organs? What are we to do then, even if we have a science that is as rigorous as possible and nature, the world, demands of us an artistically shaped knowledge? I know that even present-day scientists consider such a sentence to be an absurdity. But I also know that although it may be considered an absurdity in the consciousness of science, human hearts and human souls today do not consider it an absurdity, but rather they feel its truth dimly and would like to see it in the light.

And it is no different when we move into another area, the area of morality, morals, the area of social work and labor, and the area of religious immersion. Everything that falls within the scope of these three areas has been, so to speak, banned from science for a long time, ever since the scientific spirit has so decisively taken hold of modern humanity. As regards sociology and social work, attempts have been made in recent times, especially in the popular field, to think socially and sociologically from the scientific spirit and to give impulses to social life from this science. The results do not exactly suggest that this is the right approach. For the things that are currently shaking the world in terms of the social question, and that are to be satisfied by all sorts of illusions based on the spirit of science of modern times, are leading to those terrible disharmonies, to those terrible destructive elements that are at work in the social life of humanity today, and which show clearly that a recovery is only possible if a spiritual turnaround can take place in some direction. But after all, social life cannot be guided towards a healthy solution without taking the moral and religious foundations into account. And so, in regard to the social, we must first look at the moral and religious foundations of human life. And here we find it stated quite clearly, even more clearly than in relation to artistic experience, especially in the most recent phenomena, that on the one hand there is science with its strong certainty and conscientiousness, but that, on the other hand, there is an even greater lack of trust in introducing the spirit of this scientific attitude into moral thinking and religious consciousness. And today more than ever, it is emphasized by the seemingly progressive minds that science must remain in its place. But it must be banished from everything that man has to strive for as impulses for his moral action, for his religiosity. That is not where science belongs; that is where faith belongs. Just as there is a strict distinction between science and art, there is also a strict distinction between science and morality, between science and religiosity. One would like to appeal to a special ability, to a special impulsivity of the human soul for this morality, for this religious life. One would like to strictly separate the truth of faith from the scientific truth, just as one would like to strictly separate the artistic truth from it.

Now, this has certainly not prevented the spirit of science from spreading to all circles in the present day, from taking on the most popular form; that today not only the scientists are occupied with this spirit of science, but the whole broad mass of today's civilized humanity. Today, one can be a religious and pious person in the old, traditional sense, but thanks to public literature, from newspapers to books, and through other public life, one still lives entirely in the modern spirit of science. Therefore it could not be avoided that, however strongly the demand arises to separate faith from scientific knowledge, this scientific knowledge appears in all possible fields as a critique of faith, that it is already having and will continue to have a subversive and disintegrating effect on this faith in numerous human minds, unless there is also a complete spiritual reversal in these fields.

Belief and knowledge, which today we want to keep strictly separate, did not originate from different sources. To recognize this, we have to go back further than we do for art, where we only have to go back to the Greeks to see that the Greeks saw artistic truth and scientific truth as one and the same. We must go back to much earlier times in the development of humanity. But there we will find times when religion is simply everything; when man, in a certain way, through the powers of his soul, becomes so absorbed in the depths of the universe that religious life wells up out of this absorption. But as this religious life wells up in him, there stands before his soul that which can make him religiously pious, to which he can sacrifice, that has an effect on him by revealing itself in beauty, and that can therefore be enjoyed artistically, and that, when his thinking and understanding delve into it, meets him as the truth of the world. Science, art and religion, they all arise from one root. But that is not all that comes into consideration. It is true that if we go back to the earliest times of human development, we find that science, art and religion are one, that they emerge from a common source, that later religious life became independent - this was already the case in Greek and Roman times - but that artistic life still remained united with scientific life. And only when we penetrate into the most recent times do we find that these three branches of the revelation of human personality are becoming separate.

Today, these three branches are again striving mightily in the unconscious and subconscious depths of man towards unity, towards harmonization. Why is that? Well, today one can only stand in awe before science, and opposition to that which is truth in science would, as I said, be folly. But science has only been creative in the field of thought and in the field of observation, or regulated observation, of experiment. Science has only been creative with regard to that which can be attained by logical judgment and through observation by the human mind. In these fields, science has achieved great and original things in recent centuries.

If we look at the other fields, the artistic field, the field of moral and religious life, then we have to say to ourselves – and again it is something that not all people say to themselves today, but which basically all civilized humanity feels in the depths of their souls – artistic sense and artistic spirit are not really creative today. We often delude ourselves, of course, when we are recreating, but the present age is not style-generating or motif-generating in the artistic field. Earlier times were style-generating and motif-generating. For example, the Greeks, who gave birth to their buildings from the same womb of the soul from which the poets created their works of art. They gave birth to them from the same womb of the soul that much so that the belief arose that Homer and Hesiod, being artists, had given the Greeks their gods. We live off artistic traditions. We build in the Gothic style, we build in the antique style, we build in the baroque style, and so on, but we do not build in the present. Nor are we able to be fully present in other areas in an artistic sense. One must express these things somewhat radically if one wants to touch what is nevertheless present as reality in the deepest forces of our age.

In the religious and moral sphere, traditions are even older. In the religious and moral sphere, our age is not creative. Hence the conservatism of religions, the urge to preserve the old at all costs. Hence the fear that arises when something new appears in the religious sphere. We have artistic styles from ancient times; we have religious content from even older times. And the young people, as they grow up today, carry a longing for creativity in all areas of life, through something mysterious that I cannot discuss today, through secrets that are born with them. They find this creativity in the scientific field. But that is not enough for her. She longs for something deeply creative in the artistic realm, and she also longs for something deeply creative in the moral-religious realm. That is why today's youth does not understand the older generation, and the older generation does not understand the youth. That is why there is a gulf between the two.

All this basically characterizes our present age, but it does not yet show the deep discord in man himself, which has actually led to all that I have just described. And to find this deep conflict in human nature itself, we must look at the peculiarity of this human nature, as it has developed in the scientific age, that is, since the middle of the 15th century. If we look at today's man without prejudice, we see two opposing poles in his nature. These two poles basically dominate our entire intellectual life. But they do not satisfy our human needs. And these two poles are, on the one hand, the strong, inward, intense self-confidence that modern man has developed over the past centuries, and, on the other hand, the special way in which man has come to understand the world through his modern abilities.

Let us take a closer look at these polar opposites. When I speak of the self-awareness, the sense of self, of modern man, I do not mean only that which arises, so to speak, in the solitude of the philosopher's study. From the self-awareness of man, that is, from the self-comprehension of the idea, of the concept, Hegel developed a worldview in a grandiose way. In Hegelian philosophy, we see only an infinitely ingenious elaboration of what self-consciousness can experience within itself when it becomes fully aware of itself. And on the other hand, we see in the anti-Hegelians, at least when they are philosophers, that they also start from self-consciousness. They despise the Hegelians, and the broad development of the ideal and spiritual that Hegel achieved on the basis of human consciousness. They want to stick to one point, which they keep looking at: their self-consciousness. It does not expand as it does with Hegel, but they also start from self-consciousness. But by characterizing in this way, even if one descends more into the concrete-scientific and philosophical realm, one cannot characterize too much of the nature of the present age from this philosophical grasp of self-consciousness, for the reason that once became particularly clear to me in a conversation with Eduard von Hartmann. We were talking about what can be achieved epistemologically through a critique, an analysis of self-consciousness, and Eduard von Hartmann said: Nowadays, books about such things should not be printed at all, but only hectographed, so that they are only available in a few copies, perhaps sixty copies, because only that many people in Germany, out of sixty million, have an interest in such things. This is also true when it comes to the most intimate philosophical matters. Therefore, you cannot expect me to bother you with how self-awareness is being lived out in the German philosophical consciousness in this day and age. But this self-awareness has been evident since the last century, not only to the inquiring philosopher, but in all human fields, and it is to these that I am referring. The way in which people today think about themselves, how they strongly sense their own being, their I, is certainly not taken into account by external historical research, but the inner historical research knows this. Before the 15th century, people simply did not think about themselves, did not recognize or know anything. There, inwardly, everything was more dull. There one did not say “I” with the same intensity as one can say it in civilized humanity since then.

Thus there has been a general intensification of inner experience. This intensification of inner experience is evident in the field of science in the complete rejection of belief in authority, in the desire to accept only that which can be justified before one's own self-awareness. In the realm of art, it is manifested by the fact that man everywhere seeks to infuse into the work of art, to shape into it, that which he can experience in his deepest self-awareness. In the religious sphere, it is shown by the fact that man can only experience a divine being fully when it sinks into his innermost self, which he experiences strongly, which he wants to experience strongly together with the divine being, if it is to have any validity or significance for him at all. In the moral sphere, man strives - as I already showed in my “Philosophy of Freedom” in the nineties of the last century - for impulses, for ethical motives, for ethical regulation of life, which arise from this root of his strong self-awareness. And in social life we have this peculiar phenomenon today, that social demands are arising everywhere, that people are saying everywhere: we need a social organization of life – but that basically human feeling is very far removed from social feeling, from social empathy. And precisely because we lack social empathy, we demand the social organization of life. We want what we actually lack within ourselves to come from outside. We say, “We must become social beings,” because in modern times, precisely as the spirit of science has grown, we have basically only become strong in our ego, in our antisocial nature, and today we are seeking a balance between this strong ego and social demands.

And so we encounter this self-awareness in all areas of human life. Anyone who studies the social question today from the perspective of the organization of human labor, anyone who has an interest in what has become of the social question under the influence of modern technology, which has removed people from direct contact with their work, which has the indifferent machine - knows how, in this area too, social will cannot emerge from awakened self-awareness, because this awakened self-awareness is confronted with something, with the machine, in the face of which this self-awareness can feel fully satisfied at the very least.

Now, on the one hand, there is the self-confidence of modern man. But how did this self-confidence come about, given that it is a fact of life? How did this modern humanity awaken to this strong self-confidence? Initially, one can only arrive at this self-confidence through a particular development of the life of thought, of the life of ideas. Thought did not play the same role in earlier epochs of humanity as it has in more recent times. But it was precisely by becoming capable of thinking more and more abstractly and abstractly, more and more intellectually and intellectually, that self-awareness became strong. Self-awareness became strong precisely under the power of thought. And so man has come to develop thinking to its highest peak, whereas in the past he lived more in feeling, in beholding, in intuition and imagination and inspiration, even if these were dream-like and unconscious. Man has developed thinking, and with thinking it was possible for him to achieve his strong self-awareness in thought.

But with this, man has arrived at a one-sidedness in our spiritual life. Thought is moving away from reality. Who would not have the feeling that thought can never achieve full-bodied reality, that thought remains only an image of reality! With an image of reality, we have cultivated our strong self-confidence as modern humanity. Therefore, even if people are not yet fully aware of it, even if they cannot yet express it, they feel it, they sense it, and today's youth feel it with particular intensity: that man stands there with thoughts that are alien to reality. He stands, on the one hand, in the face of reality with his self-awareness, the self-awareness that has been grasped through thinking. It cannot approach life, it remains an image. It is powerless in the face of life. We are completely with ourselves in our self-awareness, place ourselves inwardly as strongly as possible on our own, but we are powerless, we do not penetrate with our thoughts into reality. This is the one pole of our modern spiritual life: the powerlessness of self-conscious thinking.

This feeling of the powerlessness of one's own ego permeates modern humanity. This makes modern humanity approach life without joy, without inner devotion, even without understanding, because the strongly developed ego, the strong self-awareness, must always feel powerless even in the face of that life in which one has to work oneself. That is the one pole.

And the other pole, as it presents itself to modern humanity, is that whereas in the past man grasped all kinds of things from the depths of his soul, or, as people like to say today, , modern man only has confidence when he observes the external world in a way that is not mixed with anything from within; when he observes the external world in a so-called objective way, in an experiment. One's own inner being should be completely silent when observing or experimenting. Only the external world should speak. What has been achieved as a result? We have come to investigate this external world in faithful observation and in exact experiment, but we cannot get further with this research than the mechanism. For astronomy, the universe has become a mechanism. For geology, the developing earth has become a mechanism. Even the human organism has become a mechanism, and the modern neo-vitalistic attempts are only attempts with inadequate means to achieve something that cannot be achieved with the scientific method, which is now recognized, and which only leads to understanding the mechanism – to put it radically: the machine – in the experiment, in the observation. By coming to understand the machine, we believe that we can see through what is in front of us, because we do not mix anything into the context of physical and mechanical laws that we form into a fabric in the machine. In a sense, we do see through it, we see through how the individual parts of a mechanism interact and interlock. We initially feel satisfied because we have been educated from the newer school of thought, by understanding the machine, by understanding the universe, the cosmos, as a machine, with interlocking wheels and so on. We believe we are satisfied, but inwardly we are not. Something remains that repels us, precisely in terms of our full humanity, from this understanding of the machine. An understanding of the machine is what has actually contributed to the greatness, to the triumphs of the modern spirit of science. Why? The machine becomes transparent, not to the eye but to the mind, to the intellect. When we look into the organism, things remain dark to such external observation. In the machine, everything is transparent. But we should ask ourselves: do we understand the diamond better because it is transparent? It is simply not true that something becomes more transparent and therefore more comprehensible to us. For what is at work in the machine, we feel in the long run, when we stand face to face with it, more and more as alien to our own nature. And that is the unconscious feeling that asserts itself: there stands the machine, it becomes transparent to the mind, but it has nothing that you can find within yourself, it is completely alien to you. And so we feel cast out of the world that we comprehend, that we comprehend mechanically. We feel repelled by the other pole of our spiritual life. Just as the one pole cannot enter into reality, is powerless in the face of reality, so the reality that we comprehend repels us. This is the profound conflict in the modern human being. He has developed his self-awareness through thinking, but he cannot enter the world with this thinking. He takes the machine from the world; but in comprehending it, it repels him, for it has nothing in common with man. Thinking makes us out of touch with reality; the reality of observation repels us. However one may otherwise describe the dichotomy of modern intellectual life, these are its two roots, these two poles of modern intellectual life: the powerlessness of self-conscious thinking, with its mere pictorial character, which is unable to penetrate into fully fleshed reality, and the mechanistically conceived contents of observation and experiment, which repel one as alien to our own being. It seems as if one is only talking about the field of science when one talks about these things. But what one is discussing in this way permeates our entire modern life.

So, on the one hand, there is this modern intellectual life with the two poles just described. On the other hand, there is anthroposophy. Anthroposophy, which does not attempt to remain at the level of thinking self-awareness, but progresses in inner development through inner soul exercises, which I will have to describe later; which progresses from what we have in a self-evident way in thinking. From this thinking, through exercises, one advances to a descriptive, to a pictorial, to an imaginative thinking; to a thinking that then becomes so strong that it becomes a seeing; that becomes as strong as otherwise only the sense impressions are. Today I can only hint at these things, but in the next few days I will have to describe how one can actually achieve clairvoyant vision of a supersensible world by developing thinking.

But then, when one progresses from the training of thinking to the imagination, then one no longer stands alone with this imagination, which is nothing other than a developed thinking, in the self-awareness that has become alien to reality. Then one stands in a new spiritual reality, in the reality in which one stood before descending from the spiritual-soul world into physical embodiment. For one gets to know one's prenatal life when one really trains in a systematic way that which, in thinking self-awareness, leads to human loneliness in relation to the world. It is thinking that has been developed into imagination that leads to a new reality, to the reality that has taken possession of our own self as our physicality. Our I expands beyond our birth or conception. We enter into a spiritual world.

On the other hand, if we consider observation and experimentation from the perspective of modern science, we become aware of something that many people fail to recognize: that in the experiment itself, thinking is completely silent. Anyone who really follows the experimental process and scientific research in experimentation will find that thinking only notifies, that it actually only perceives the cases statistically and forms laws, but that it does not delve into reality. What connects with reality in the experiment is human will. A deeper psychology will recognize this more and more. Anthroposophy conducts research in such a way that, on the one hand, it develops thinking into imagination, and on the other hand, it develops the will into intuition and inspiration. As I said, I will discuss the details in the next few days. Today I would just like to state the principles.

When the human being comes to exercise this will, which otherwise remains as dark to him as the states of sleep are to his own consciousness, to exercise it in the same way that one exercises thinking for imagination, he comes to make his own organism, his own physicality spiritually and soulfully transparent – not physically, of course. This means that the human being comes to develop for his own being that which he had previously developed for the outside world, for the mechanism, for the machine. But this own being then reveals itself in a completely different way. We are not repelled by it. We grasp what has flowed out of the whole cosmos into our humanity with a transparency that we otherwise only grasp the machine with. But it is we ourselves that we grasp. We are not pushed back. We grasp ourselves in ourselves. And we grasp, initially in our minds, what the moment of death is. We get to know the eternity of the human soul on the other side. We learn through the strengthening of our will how the body becomes transparent, and we learn to understand by looking at how we pass through the gateway of death, how we leave the body to enter a spiritual-soul world.

Through the further development of thinking, we learn to recognize the prenatal. Through culture, through the development of the will, we learn to recognize the afterlife, that which lies beyond our death. We learn to recognize ourselves in a reality, learn to place ourselves in this reality. We do not remain lonely with our self. We learn a thinking, a developed thinking, that penetrates into life, namely into the spiritual life. And we learn to observe something, first in ourselves, then in the world, which does not repel us, but connects with the developed thinking. We bridge the abyss that lies between the two poles, self-conscious thinking and mechanistic observation. We acquire, through anthroposophical research, a thinking that is not powerless in the face of reality, but that submerges into reality; we get to know a reality that reaches up to the inner soul life, to the developed will, which in turn reaches up to thinking. We expand thinking so that it can submerge into reality; we expand the will to such an extent that it can reach up to thinking. Thus, with the spiritual life, we grasp a full reality in which the human being now stands.

This comes about in three stages of knowledge. It comes about in imaginative knowledge, through which thinking is first intensified to the point of pictorialness, inwardly strengthened, where one first sees the supersensible, the spiritual world in images. Then comes inspired knowledge. You can find more about this in my book “How to Know Higher Worlds.” In the next few days I will also have much to characterize. Through inspired knowledge, the spiritual world enters into our soul. Then comes intuitive knowledge, through which we place ourselves in the spiritual essence of the world. But without becoming a spiritual researcher oneself, one can, simply through common sense, grasp that which the spiritual researcher draws from the supersensible world through imagination, inspiration, intuition. If one appropriates these truths, for example the truths that are attained through imaginative knowledge, then one enriches one's inner soul life. How does one enrich one's inner soul life?

Well, with that which is so magnificently described, our scientific life, our scientific spirit, with which we actually live in a state of mind that is only appropriate for us as human beings as an intellectual state of mind when we are fully grown, when we have reached our twenties. If we look only at the human age that immediately precedes it, at the age, say, from the fourteenth to the twentieth, twenty-first year. There we live a life - the one who can really focus on such things, who has a deeper psychology in his soul, he knows it and can explore it - there we live in such a way that intense soul experiences arise from our inner being. These are not abstract thoughts. They are the ideals of youth, full of inner sap, with inner intensity and strength, which one experiences not just as pale, dull thoughts. Man is under the impression of an inner impulsiveness.

What is it that is effective here? Well, what is effective in man actually lives half-dreamily in him. He does not become aware of it at this age. Nor can it be brought to consciousness through ordinary science. Ordinary science will never fathom what goes on in human minds, or what goes on in the human body, say, between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one. Only imaginative knowledge can recognize this. It brings it to consciousness. What works subconsciously in us during our teenage years can only come to consciousness through imaginative knowledge. A young person who has passed the age of fourteen — anyone who is familiar with real pedagogy knows this — longs for knowledge that is imaginative, because only through this can he understand himself. Otherwise he must wait until he is over twenty years old before the intellectual life fully enters him. And then he can only come to the thinking consciousness with which he is alone. He drifts away, if I may express it this way, until this point in human life. He longs for a revelation from the elders, which these elders could only give him – if they are his teachers, his educators, his guides – if they had imaginative insights. Then they would be able to tell him what he is.

And between the change of teeth and sexual maturity, we live an inner life of body, soul and spirit in such a way that what happens unconsciously, what is reality, can only be grasped by inspired knowledge. Not external, intellectual, experimental knowledge can know what is actually working itself out in the human being during the childhood years. Everything wants to form itself now, not according to natural laws, but according to artistic impulses. Inspirations from the universe are at work in us. And the older generation will only be able to tell the children between the ages of seven and fourteen, approximately speaking, what these children long for, what their whole feeling and will is striving for, if they know anything about inspired knowledge. We shall only be able to talk to children in a teaching and educating way when we have some knowledge of inspired world knowledge.

And even with the very youngest children - “Unless you become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven”. There is a deep truth in these words of Christ. At this age of life, during infancy, the age up to the change of teeth, the child lives in such a way that one can only understand the settling of his soul-spiritual into the physical-bodily, this forcing-into, this plastic shaping of the body out of the soul-spiritual, only with intuitive knowledge. Therefore, children will only understand us - feelingly, instinctively - and can be influenced by us in the right way if we can receive religiously shaped truths from an education in intuitive knowledge.

Thus, in our present spiritual age, young people do not understand the old, because as human beings we basically lose our youth. We would only not lose it if what we experience in childhood and adolescence could be remembered by us in later, more mature years through the insights that come from imagination, inspiration and intuition. With these insights we can delve into our childhood and youth. With these insights we can speak as teachers, educators, and leaders of humanity to children and young people in such a way that they understand us instinctively and emotionally, and that young people learn to understand us. The gap between youth and old age can only be bridged in this way. It will not be possible to fill it in any other way. And if the will is not present to bridge or fill the gap in this way, our age will show to an ever greater extent what it is already showing: that youth does not understand age, that age does not understand youth.

And the consequence of this is that people do not understand each other, that a social life becomes more and more impossible. Only by introducing a spiritual-scientific insight into our scientific spirit, by expanding our scientific spirit to include such a spiritual-scientific insight, will man be able to understand himself fully, man will come to the point where he no longer has his self so impotently that it does not reach reality, but is able to observe reality in such a way that it does not strike him back. Only in this way will he be able to bring the two poles, the pole of thought and the pole of reality, which are so alien to each other in modern man, into a living balance.

Thus anthroposophy, even though it did not arise in some abstract way from the observation of the search of the time, from the observation of the longings of our time, anthroposophy, having has arisen out of scientific foundations, it may nevertheless point out how it can achieve, or at least will be able to achieve, in the most important fields of the age, what this age desires in the deepest sense of the word.

I wanted to present this as an introduction, as a preface, so to speak, to the reflections of the next few days, characterizing how this anthroposophy would like to be understood. It would like to be understood not as dead, abstract knowledge, not as knowledge in the form of mere theories, but as knowledge that has been grasped through living in life and is itself living knowledge; as knowledge that flows into the human being not just as thoughts or as the results of observation, but as the life blood of the soul; as knowledge that is present in the human being as life itself.

Anthroposophy would be the height of arrogance if it tried to inspire faith by claiming that so-and-so many of the world's mysteries exist or can be solved. That is not the point. Life is full of riddles, and only as long as there are riddles will there be life. For we must experience the riddles, and it is only by experiencing the riddles that we can continue to live in a truly human way. A world in which there were no questions would be an inanimate world. Anthroposophy does not claim to promise a solution to all the riddles of life. But it seeks to be that which is capable of serving life through its own character, through knowledge and through the power to give the whole human being, the full human being, the artistic, the religious, the moral, the social human being, the real foundation. Anthroposophy seeks to serve life. It would like to serve life by being living knowledge itself, and not just dead knowledge, and by developing its own life force. It would like to serve life, and nothing but life itself can serve life. That is why anthroposophy wants to become life itself in order to serve the life of humanity.

As Anthroposophy spreads to fields where men usually seek their religious and, maybe, their moral impulses also, it encounters many persons who feel drawn towards such a spiritual stream. The modern spirit, which yesterday I allowed myself to call “the scientific spirit”, has, in many respects, shaken old, traditional beliefs, and although many people approach the anthroposophical line of research somewhat sceptically, there are, nevertheless, very many to-day whose souls have at least an inclination towards it. But it is correct to say that, in one respect, Anthroposophy encounters difficulties when it would enter the fields of the various sciences. That is the particular aim of this course, and it will be my task to present here, in the main, the general, more comprehensive principles and results of our research, while the other lecturers will deal with special scientific fields.

But precisely such an arrangement must arouse all the antipathies—I use this word more in a theoretical than in a moral sense—which Anthroposophy encounters from scientific quarters. I can only assure you that one who is engaged in anthroposophical research fully understands how difficult it is for a man involved in scientific work to-day to pass from the scientific attitude into Anthroposophy. Although Anthroposophy has certainly much to correct in present-day science, and, at the same time, when organic and spiritual fields are included, very much to add to the present material for research, it does not of itself come into conflict with current science. It accepts the justified results of science and deals with them in the way I have just described. The reverse, however, does not occur; at least, not yet—as one may well understand. Anthroposophy is rejected; its results are not regarded as satisfying the strictly scientific criteria that one feels entitled to impose to-day.

In a short lecture I shall not, of course, be able to go into all that Anthroposophy can itself bring forward to serve as an effective foundation for its results. But I should like in to-day's lecture to attempt to characterise the position of Anthroposophy among the sciences, and to do this in a way that will enable you to understand that Anthroposophy, in laying its foundations, is as conscientious as any science with its own precise technique. For this, however, I shall have to inflict upon you somewhat remote discussions—things which in ordinary life may be called difficult but which are necessary in order to provide a certain basis for what I shall have to offer in an easier and, perhaps, more agreeable form in the next few days.

Many people to-day imagine that Anthroposophy starts somehow from the nebulous attitude of soul to be found in present-day movements that are really “mystical” or “occult”. But to ascribe to Anthroposophy such a very questionable foundation is a complete mistake. Only one who knows Anthroposophy only superficially, or, indeed, through its opponents, can do that.

The fundamental attitude of consciousness in Anthroposophy has been drawn from that branch of present-day science which is least of all attacked in respect to its scientific character and importance. I admit, however, that many of our adherents—and opponents too—fail to perceive correctly what I have now to characterise by way of introduction.

The position of mathematics among the sciences has already been mentioned. Kant's pronouncement, that in every science there is only as much real knowledge—real cognition—as there is mathematics, is widely known. Now I have not to deal here with mathematics itself, with its value for the other sciences and in human life, but rather with the mental attitude a man assumes when “mathematicising”—if I may use this word; that is, when actively engaged in mathematical thinking. His attitude of soul is then, indeed, quite distinctive. Perhaps we may best characterise it by speaking, first, of that branch of mathematics which is usually called geometry and, at least in those parts of it known to the majority of people, has to do with space, is the science of space.

We are accustomed to speak of three-dimensional space; we picture it so constituted that its three dimensions, as they are called, stand at right angles to one another. What we have before our mind's eye as space is, in the first place, quite independent of man and the rest of the world. And because man as an individual being orientates himself in accordance with spatial laws, he pictures space before his eyes, independent of himself. He can certainly say that he is at this or that distance from any selected point; thus he inserts himself into space, as a part of space. And by regarding himself as an earthly being and assigning to himself certain distances from this and that star, he inserts himself into cosmic space. In a word, man regards space as something objective, independent of his own being. It was this that led Kant to call space an a priori intuition (eine Anschauung a priori), a mode of intuition given to man prior to experience. He cannot ask how he comes to have space; he must simply accept it as something given; he must fit himself into it when he has attained full earthly consciousness.

But it is not so in reality. We human beings do actually build space out of our own being. More correctly: we build our idea (Vorstellung), our mental perception (Anschauung), of space from out of ourselves. Only, we do not do this consciously, because we do it at a time of life when we do not think about our own activities in the way that would be necessary if we were to come to a clear understanding of the nature of space in relation to our own being. Indeed, we should not have our intuition of space (Raumanschauung) if, in our earthly life, we did not first experience its three dimensions.

We do experience them. We experience one of them when, from out of our inability to walk upright from birth, we raise ourselves into the vertical position. We learn this dimension from the way in which we build it. And what we learn to know is not just any dimension, set at right angles to the other two. We learn to know this quite definite dimension of space—standing vertically, so to speak, upon the earth's surface—from the fact that we human beings are not born upright, but, in accord with the formative laws of our earthly life, must first raise ourselves into the vertical position.

We learn to know the second dimension of space in an equally unconscious manner. You will be well aware that man—to mention what pertains more to his inner than to his outer being—in developing the capacities which serve him in later life, learns to orientate himself from left to right, from right to left. One need only recall that we have our organised speech centre in a certain area of the brain, the so-called Broca convolutions, while the other side of the brain has no such organisation. One also knows to-day—and from accepted science—that the development of the speech centre on the left side of the human body is connected with the mobility, spontaneous at first, of the right hand. One knows, too, that an orientation from right to left develops, that this activity excited on the left by an activity on the right, or vice-versa, is experienced by us within the laws that form us—just as we experience our achievement of the upright position. It is in this co-ordinated orientation of right with left, or left with right, that we human beings experience the second dimension of space.

The third dimension of space is never really experienced by us completely. We first focus this so-called “depth-dimension” as we try to gauge it. We are constantly doing this, though deep down in the unconscious. When we make the lines of vision of our eyes intersect at a point and focus both eyes on this point, we expand space, which would otherwise have only two dimensions for us, into the third dimension. And with every estimate of spatial depth we build the third dimension unconsciously out of our own being and the laws that form us.

Thus one might say: we place, in a certain way, the three dimensions of space outside us. And what we conceive as space, the space we use in geometry—Euclidean geometry, at first—is nothing more than an abstraction from what we learn to know concretely, with our own organism, as the three dimensions linked to our own subjective being. In this abstraction the quite definite configuration of space is ignored; the definite directions—vertical, horizontal and depth—have equal value. (This is always done when we make abstractions.) And then, when we have constructed, by abstracting from the three-dimensional space experienced within, the external space we speak of in geometry, we extend our consciousness through this external space alone.

We now come to the important thing. What we have won from out of ourselves is now applicable to external nature; in the first place, to inorganic, lifeless forms, though it can also be applied to the spatial and kinetic relations between organic structures. Briefly, this fact largely determines the character of our external world. Having accomplished this transition (this metamorphosis of space) from one domain, which really lives in us, to space commonly so called, we now stand with our spatial concepts and spatial experiences within the outer world and are able to determine our position and motion by spatial measurements. We actually go out of ourselves when we construct space in this way. We lift out of our body what we have first experienced within ourselves, placing ourselves at a point of view from which we look back upon ourselves as filled with space. In thus objectifying space we are able to study the external movements and relative positions of objects with the help of ideas formed geometrically within space; we feel thereby that we are on firm scientific ground when we enter into objects with what we have formed so earnestly from out of ourselves. In these circumstances we cannot doubt that we can live within things with what has come from us in this way. When we judge the distance, or the changing distance, between two bodies in the outer world according to spatial relations, we believe we are determining something completely objective and independent of ourselves. It does not occur to us that this could be otherwise.

Now, however, a fundamental and important problem confronts us here. What we have experienced subjectively in ourselves, transforming it, in the case of space; simply by making from it a kind of abstraction, now becomes something permeating—to a certain extent—the outer world and appearing to belong there.

Anyone who considers impartially what confronts us here must say: In his subjective experience of space in its three dimensions and in his subsequent objectifying of this experience, man stands within the external world with his own experiences. Our subjective experiences, being experiences of space, are at the same time objective. After all, it is not at all difficult, but trivial and elementary, to see that this is so. For when we move ourselves through space, we accomplish something subjective, but at the same time an objective event occurs in the world. To put it another way, whether we see an automaton or a man move forwards, subjectivity does not come into consideration. What occurs when a human being lives spatially is, for the external disposition of the world, quite objective.

If we now focus attention on the human being as, in this way, he objectifies something of his subjective experience, moving himself in an objective domain by himself traversing space—for, in objectifying space, he really bears this space within himself also—we are led to say: If man could do with other experiences what he does when “mathematicising”, he would be able to transfer, to some extent, the mathematical attitude of soul to other experiences. Suppose we could shape other experiences—our mode of perceiving the qualities of colours and tones, for example—in the same way that we create and shape our experience of space from out of ourselves! When we look at a cube of salt we bring the cubical shape with us from our geometry, knowing that its shape is identical with the spatial concept we have formed. If we could create from out of ourselves, let us say, the world of colour, and then confront external coloured objects, we should then, in the same way, project (as it were) into the outer world what we first build up in ourselves. We should thus place ourselves outside our body and even look back upon ourselves. This has been accomplished in mathematics, although it remains unnoticed. (I have given a geometrical illustration; I could give others also.) Neither mathematicians nor philosophers have paid attention to this peculiar relationship that I have just put before you.

In regard to sense perceptions, however, science has become really confused. In the nineteenth century physiologists joined hands here even with epistemologists and philosophers, and many people think with them as follows:

When we see red, for example, the external event is some vibration which spreads itself out until it reaches our organ of vision, and then our brain. The specific sensation of red is then released. Or the tone C sharp is evoked by an external wave motion in the same way.

This confusion has arisen because we can no longer distinguish what lives in us—within the confines of our body—from what is outside. All sense qualities (colours, tones, qualities of warmth) are said to be actually only subjective, while what is external, objective is said to be something quite different.

If now, in the same way in which we build the three dimensions of space from out of ourselves and find them again in things (and things in them)—if we could, in the same way, draw from ourselves what appears in us as sensation, and then set it before us, we should likewise find in things what we had first found in ourselves. Indeed, looking back upon ourselves we should find it again—just as we find in the outer world what we have experienced within us as space, and, looking back at ourselves, find that we are a part of this space. As we have the space world around us, so we should have around us a world of intermingling colours and tones. We should speak of an objectified world of flowing colours and singing tones, as we speak of the space around us.

Man can certainly attain to this and learn to know as his own construction the world which otherwise only confronts him as the world of effects (Wirkungen). As we, albeit unconsciously, construct for ourselves the form of space out of our human constitution and then, having transformed it, find it again in the world, so we can train ourselves, this time by conscious effort, to draw from out of ourselves the whole gamut of qualities contained in the world, so as to find them again in things, and then again in looking back upon ourselves.

What I am here describing is the ascent to so-called “imaginative perception” (imaginative Anschauung). Every human being to-day has the same space-world—unless he be abnormally mathematical or unmathematical. What can live in us in like manner, and in such a way that we experience with it the world as well, can be acquired by exercises. “Imaginative perception”—a technical term that does not denote “fancy” or “imagination” in the usual sense—can be added to the ordinary objective perception of objects (in which mathematics is our sure guide), and will open up a new region of the world.

I said yesterday that I would have to expound to you a special method of training and research. I must describe what one has to do in order to attain to such “imaginative perception”. In this we come to perceive as a whole the qualitative element in the world—just as, in a sense, we come to perceive space (which has, at first, no reality that engages our higher interests) as a whole. When we are able to confront the world in this way, we are already at the first stage of super-sensible perception. Sense-perception may be compared to that perception of things in which we do not distinguish between triangular and rectangular shapes, do not see geometrical structures in things, but simply stare at them and only take in their forms externally. But the perception that is developed in “Imagination” is as much involved with the inner essence of things as mathematical perception is with mathematical relationships.

If we approach mathematics in the right frame of mind, we come to see precisely in the mathematician's attitude when “mathematicising” the pattern for all that one requires for super-sensible perception. For mathematics is simply the first stage of super-sensible perception. The mathematical structures we “perceive” in space are super-sensible perceptions—though we, accustomed to “perceive” them, do not admit this. But one who knows the intrinsic nature of “mathematicising” knows that although the structure of space has no special interest at first for our eternal human nature, mathematical thinking has all the characteristics that one can ask of clairvoyance in the anthroposophical sense: freedom from nebulous mysticism and confused occultism, and the sole aim of attaining to the super-sensible worlds in an exact, scientific way.

Everyone can learn from a study of “mathematicising” what clairvoyance is on a higher level. The most astonishing thing is that mathematicians, who of all people ought to know what takes place when a man is “mathematicising”, do not show a deeper understanding of what must be presented as a higher, qualitative “mathematicising”—if I may use this word—in clairvoyant research. For “imaginative” cognition, the first stage in this research, is only a perception that penetrates other domains of existence than those accessible to “mathematicising”; and it has been gained by exercises. In respect to human perception, however, much is understood differently once one is able to survey, in genuine self-knowledge, the whole inner nature of “mathematicising”. For example, one arrives at the following:

On looking back to the way in which we came to know in early childhood the structure of space—by walking and standing upright, by orientating ourselves to right and left, by learning to gauge the depth-dimension, by connecting all this with the abstractly perceived space of geometry (which the child learns to know from inner experience)—we realise the serious and important consequences that follow if we cannot look back to the living origin, within our own being, of space—of our conception and perception of space—but simply accept it in its already transformed shape, independent of ourselves. For example, in recent times we have come to regard this space (with its three dimensions) in such a way that we have gone on to postulate a fourth and higher dimensions. These spaces and their geometries are widely known to-day. Anyone who has once learnt to know the living structure of space finds it most interesting to follow such an extension of mathematical operations (applicable to three dimensions) and to arrive at a fourth dimension that cannot be visualised, and so on. These operations are logical (in the mathematical sense) and quite correct. But anyone who knows the genesis of our idea of space, as I have described it, will detect something quite special here. We could take a pendulum, for example, and watch it oscillate. Watching it purely externally, we might expect it to swing further and further out. But it does not. When it has reached a definite point, it swings back again to the opposite side. If we know the relation between the forces involved, we know that the pendulum oscillates and cannot go further because of the relation between the forces.

In respect to space, one learns to know (to some extent) such an interplay of forces in the constitution of our soul. Then one views these things differently. From the logical, mathematical standpoint one can certainly keep step with those who extend their calculations from three-dimensional to four-dimensional space. But there one must make a halt. One cannot pass on into an indefinite fourth dimension; one must turn back at a certain point, and the fourth dimension becomes simply the third with a minus sign before it. One returns through the third dimension. The mistake made in these geometrics of more than three dimensions is in going on abstractly from the second to the third, from the third to the fourth dimension, and so on. But what we have here, if I may express it in a comparison, is not simple progression but oscillation. Our perception of space must return into itself. By taking the third dimension negatively, we really annihilate it. The fourth dimension is the negative third and annihilates the third, making space two-dimensional. And in like manner we can find a quite real progression, even though, logically, mathematically, algebraically, these things can be carried further and further. When we think in accordance with reality, we must turn back at the fourth, fifth and sixth dimensions to the space that is simply given us. With the sixth dimension, we have abolished space and reach the point.

What really confronts us in the culture of our age? This—that its thinking has become abstract; that one simply continues along the line of thought that takes us from planimetry, stereometry, etc., whereas reality leads us back at the fourth dimension into space. But, in turning back then, we are by no means where we were when we found our way into the third dimension by gauging distances. We return spiritually enriched. If we can think of the fourth dimension (the negative third) in such a way that we return with it into space, then space becomes filled with spirit, whereas three-dimensional space is filled with matter. And we find space filled with ever loftier spiritual configurations when we pass along the negative third and second and first dimension and reach the point where we no longer have spatial extension but stand within the unextended—the spiritual.

What I am now describing is not formal mathematics, but the reality of spiritual perception. It is a path in real conformity with the spiritual and in contrast to the path that has adapted itself so closely to material appearances alone. This latter path, even though keeping close to mathematics—which does not, of course, work in a material way in the soul—leads nevertheless to an imperceptible world in which one can, at most, only calculate and construct imaginary mathematical spaces.

You see here that, by penetrating the mathematical domain completely, we are led to apprehend the inner nature of the spiritual present everywhere in the world. To understand the mathematical attitude of soul is to be led directly to the concept of clairvoyant experience. And then we raise ourselves to “Imagination” and, in the way I have still to describe, come thereby to a comprehensive survey of the spiritual that can be perceived, not in the ordinary way, but in the way I have put it here—that is: by going out of the third and into the fourth dimension, and so on, and coming to the domain of no-dimensions—that is, the point. This leads us spiritually to the highest if we apprehend it, not as an empty point, but as a “filled” point.

I was once—it made a great impression on me—regarded with astonishment by an elderly author who had written much on spiritual matters. Seeing me for the first time, he asked: “How did you first become aware of this difference between perceiving the sense-world and perceiving the super-sensible world?” Because I always like to express myself about these things with radical honesty, I replied: “In the moment when I learnt to know the inner meaning of what is called modern or synthetic geometry.” You see, when one passes from analytic to synthetic geometry—which enables us, not only to approach forms externally, but to grasp them in their mutual relationships—one starts from forms, not from external co-ordinates. When we work with spatial coordinates, we do not apprehend forms but only the ends of the co-ordinates; we join up these ends and obtain the curves. In analytical geometry we do not lay hold of the forms, whereas in synthetic geometry we live within them. This induces us to study the attitude of soul which, developed further, leads us to press on into the super-sensible world.

I have now described the extent to which Anthroposophy can be sure that it proceeds from “mathematicising” as strictly as the natural science of to-day—though from another point of view. Natural science applies mathematics as it has been elaborated to date. But anyone who wishes to understand clairvoyant activity must seek it where it is present in its most primitive form: in the construction of mathematical forms. If he can then raise this activity to higher domains, he will be developing something related to elementary, primitive “mathematicising” as the more developed branches of mathematics are related to their axioms. The primary axioms of clairvoyance are living ones. And if we succeed in developing our “mathematicising” by exercises, we shall not only see spatial relationships in the world around us, but learn to know spiritual beings revealing themselves to us, even with spiritual inwardness—as we learn to know the “cubicity” of a salt crystal. We learn to know spiritual beings when, in this way, we raise to higher domains what we develop by “mathematicising”.

This is what I wished to say, at the outset, about the basis of what must receive recognition as “clairvoyant research” in Anthroposophy. We shall go on to see how, with such clairvoyant research, one can enter different fields of knowledge—the natural sciences as well as therapy, medicine, history, etc. We shall see that the sciences are not to be attacked; they are to be enriched by the introduction of what can be known by super-sensible perception.

A consideration of the course of human evolution over a certain period—how it developed and led at last to the elaboration of our present scientific thinking—can help to a right understanding of what our aims here are.

Let us focus our attention upon scientific thinking to-day. It is able to see clearly the formalism of mathematics, while it nevertheless learns from mathematics inner certainty and exact observation, regarding natural laws as valid only if they can be formulated mathematically. This is, at least, a kind of ideal for scientific method to-day. But it was not always so. The scientific spirit, as acknowledged to-day, has been elaborated in the course of human evolution. I should like to draw your attention to three stages only—of which the present is the third—in this development, and I shall do so in a more narrative form. I shall also touch on some of the things that can be said in support of what I shall relate.

As we look back on human evolution, we do not, in fact, always find the same disposition of soul that man has to-day. He cultivates the scientific spirit as, in a sense, a most lofty thing. If we look back at the ancient Orient—not necessarily so far back as the most ancient Indian times, but to times more recent—we found much of what had been handed down as cognitive principles still retained. The path to knowledge was named quite differently then. In those ancient times—even the history of language can support this—man did not think of himself as he does to-day. Modern man has, on the one hand, his consciousness of self firmly established within him, and, on the other hand, a grasp, through observation, of what is mechanistic. But the man of the Orient, for example, could not have this feeling of himself. (As I have said, the history of language can prove this.) He felt himself, in the first place, as a breathing human being. To him, man was a breather. In self-contemplation he focussed his attention chiefly upon the respiratory process. He even related immortality to the respiratory process: death came to him as a kind of expiration of his soul.

Man a breather! Why did man in this former disposition of soul feel the human being as a breathing being? Because he did actually feel life in the respiratory process (which did not proceed so unconsciously as it does to-day). He felt the vibrations of life, life's rhythm, in his breathing; he felt breathing as one feels hunger and thirst to-day. But this was a continuous feeling in the waking state. When he looked with his eyes, he knew: the process of breathing now enters right into my head and into my eyes. He felt his perceptions permeated by the flow of the breath. It was just the same when the will stirred. He stretched out his hand and felt this movement as if it were something linked up with the respiratory movements. An expansion of the breath through the whole body was felt as an inner life-process. He even felt the more theoretical perception of the outer world through the senses to be ensouled with breath, just as he felt the breath ensouling the movements of the will.

Man felt himself a breathing being, and because he could have said: “My breath is modified in this and that way when I see through my eyes, hear through my ears and receive through the effects of heat”—because in his sensations of all kinds he “saw” differentiated, modified, refined respiratory processes—because of all this the path of knowledge was for him a systematic training of the respiratory process. And this systematic training was for those earlier epochs in the evolution of man's cognition what university study is for us to-day.

We study in a different way now. But in those times, when one sought religious satisfaction or wished to acquire knowledge, one “studied” by systematically modifying the respiratory process; in other words, by developing what was later called Yoga Breathing, Yoga Training. And what did one develop? If we investigate what was attained by one who practised Yoga Breathing in order to reach higher stages of cognition, we find something striking. Those who came to be “savants” through Yoga exercises—the word “savant” is not quite appropriate to these earlier conditions, but perhaps one can use it—required as long for this as we do for a university course. In the knowledge so acquired they had grasped in the disposition of their souls what, in a later age—the Graeco-Roman, for example—was regarded as a world of ideas and present of itself in the soul, thus making Yoga unnecessary.

This is really a very interesting thing—that what men had to strive for in earlier epochs through all kinds of exercises is present of itself in later epochs of evolution. It has then no longer the same significance as before. When Socrates, when Plato were alive, their philosophies had no longer the same significance as they would have had for the ancient pupils or teachers of Yoga, had they reached Socratic or Platonic truths. By this Yoga-breathing the pupil did not acquire exactly the same inner organisation as Plato, Aristotle or Scotus Erigena, but he came to the same disposition of soul [Seelenverfassung]. Thus we find systematic breathing exercises practised in ancient times, and we see that this cognitive path led to a certain vivid world of ideas.

One really gains a correct idea of what lived later in Parmenides and Anaxagoras if one says to oneself: What was given to men in this age as something self-understood, had been achieved in still earlier times through Yoga. It was always through exercises that men strove for the higher knowledge required by their own age. Thus in the perception of the world in later epochs, men were no longer aware of their breathing in self-contemplation, but they perceived as the Greeks perceived (I have given more details of this in my Riddles of Philosophy). At that time one did not construct for oneself isolated thoughts about the world, for ideas and sense-experiences were one. One saw one's thoughts outside, as one saw red or blue and heard C sharp, G or B natural. Thoughts were in the world outside. Without knowing this, nobody understands the Greek view of the world. But the Greeks perceived only spirit permeated with sense-perceptions, or sense-perceptions permeated by spirit, and no longer differentiations in the process of breathing.

Then once again men sought to attain a higher stage of cognition in all domains in which they were seeking higher knowledge. This stage was also gained through exercises. To-day we have rather vague ideas about the early Middle Ages and their spiritual life. A medieval student did not learn so abstractedly as we do to-day. He, too, had to do exercises, and ordinary study was also combined with the doing of exercises. Inward exercises had to be carried out, though not so strenuously as with Yoga breathing; they were more inward, but still a set of exercises.

From this there remains a kind of deposit, little understood now, in what were called then the Seven Liberal Arts. They had to have been mastered by everyone who claimed to have received a higher education. Grammar meant the practical use of language. Rhetoric meant more: the artistic use of language. Dialectic was the use of language as a tool of thought. And when the student had practised these inwardly, as exercises, Arithmetic followed; but this, again, was not our abstract arithmetic, but an arithmetic which entered into things and was clearly aware that man shapes all things inwardly. In this way the student learnt Geometry through inward exercises, and this geometry, as something involving the human being, was the pupil's possession—a tool he could use.

All this then passed over into what was called Astronomy: the student integrated his being with the cosmos, learnt to know how his head was related to the cosmos, and how his lungs and heart resulted from the cosmos. It was not an astronomy abstracted from man, but an astronomy in which man had his place. And then, at the seventh stage, the pupil learnt to know how the Divine Being weaves and rules throughout the world. This was called Music; it was not our present music but a higher, living elaboration of what had been elaborated in thought-forms in Astronomy.

It was in this way that men of a later epoch trained themselves inwardly. The breathing exercises of earlier times had been replaced by a more inward training of the soul.

And what did one attain? In the course of the history of civilisation men came gradually to have thoughts apart from sense-perceptions. This was something that had to be acquired. The Greeks still saw thought in the world, as we see colours and perceive tones. We grasp thought as something we produce, not located within things. The fact that men came to feel this in the constitution of their souls, that we can feel this to-day—that is the result of the training in Grammar, Rhetoric and so on to Music. Thought was thereby released. Men learnt to move freely in thoughts. In this way was achieved what we take for granted to-day, possessing it without these exercises—what we find when we go to school, what is offered in the separate sciences (as described yesterday). And precisely as man in different epochs had to advance by means of exercises—in ancient times by breathing exercises (Yoga) which gave him the Graeco-Latin conception of the world as something he took for granted; in later times by exercises that went from Grammar to Music and gave him the scientific standpoint we have to-day—so to-day he can again advance. He can best advance by setting out from what is most certain: namely, mathematics, recognised as certain to-day.

My reply to that author was true, although it so astonished him. It was mainly through synthetic geometry that I became clear about the clairvoyant's procedure. Naturally, not everyone who has studied synthetic geometry is a clairvoyant, but the procedure can be clearly presented in this way. Though that author was so astonished at not being told the sort of thing that people who “prophesy” are wont to relate, it is nevertheless true that Anthroposophy, setting out from the firm base on which science stands to-day, seeks to extend this base; and from this base, which science itself has laid, to carry further, into super-sensible domains, what reliable science brings before us.

From here we must proceed more inwardly. And a still more inward procedure is the path to clairvoyant research which I had to describe in my books Geheimwissenschaft (“Occult Science”) and Wie erlangt man Erkenntnisse der Höheren Welten (“How to Attain Knowledge of Higher Worlds”). But precisely such an historical survey as I have given can show you that anyone who stands to-day with full consciousness within Anthroposophy derives this consciousness from standing within the course of human evolution. My historical survey can also show you that I do not speak from personal predilection or subjective partiality when I assert that we need to undertake exercises in order to carry further the historical movement that has brought humanity to its present standpoint. Anyone who knows the course of history up to the present, and knows how it must continue, stands consciously within the whole historical process, and to this consciousness he adds the insight acquired by taking—inwardly, not outwardly—the spirit of modern science into the constitution of his soul.

Thus one may well say: Anthroposophy knows its position in respect to the science of to-day. It knows this in an absolute sense, because it knows the special character of contemporary science and rejects all that is dilettantish and amateurish. It builds further on genuine science. On the other hand, Anthroposophy knows the historical necessities; knows that man's path must go beyond present achievements—if we do not wish to stand still, unlike all our forerunners, who wanted to advance beyond the stage of civilisation in which they shared. We, too, must go forward. And we must know what steps to take from the present standpoint of the scientific spirit.

In the next few days I shall have to depict what this actually involves. The foundations I have laid to-day will then appear, perhaps, in a more understandable form. But I may have been able to show that Anthroposophy knows from its scientific attitude—from an attitude as scientific as that of science—what its aims are in face of the contemporary world, of human evolution as a whole, and of the separate sciences. It will get to work because it knows how it has to work. Perhaps its path will be very long. If, on the other hand, one sees, in the subconscious depths of human souls, the deep longings for the heights that Anthroposophy would climb, one may surmise that it is necessary for the welfare of humanity that the path Anthroposophy has to take should not be too slow. But whether the pace be slow or fast may be less important for Anthroposophy than for human progress. In many domains we speak of being caught up in the “rapid tempo” of our time. May all that mankind is intended to attain by cognition of the super-sensible be attained as rapidly as the welfare of mankind requires.

What I have to say to-day will be, in a sense, an interlude within this course of lectures, for I shall try, from the scientific point of view, to glance at the field of artistic creation. I hope, however, that to-day's considerations will show that this interlude is really a contribution which will help to elucidate what I said on the preceding days and what I shall have to say in the days that follow.

When the Anthroposophical Movement had been active for some time, a number of members became convinced that a building should be erected for it. Various circumstances (which I need not mention here) led finally to the choice of the hill at Dornach, in the Jura Hills near Basle, Switzerland. Here the Goetheanum, the Free High School for Anthroposophical Spiritual Science, is being built.¹ It is not yet completed, but lectures can already be held in it and work can be done.

I should now like to speak of the considerations (inneren Verhältnissen) that prevailed with us when designing this building. If any other spiritual movement of our time had decided to erect its own building, what would have been done? Well, one would have applied to one or more architects, and a building would have been erected in one or other of the traditional styles—Antique, Renaissance or Gothic. Then, in accordance with what is being done here or there in the various branches of art, craftsmen would have been called in to decorate the building with paintings and plastic forms.

Nothing like that could be done in the case of the Dornach building—the Free High School for Spiritual Science; it would have contradicted the whole intention and innermost character of the anthroposophical conception of the world. This conception is not an attempt to achieve something one-sidedly theoretical—an expression of cosmic laws in a sum of ideas. It intends to be something born from man as a whole and to serve his whole being. It would be, on the one hand, something that can very well be expressed in thought forms—as one expects of any view of the world that is propounded. On the other hand, the anthroposophical world-view would be essentially more comprehensive; it strives to be able to speak from the whole compass of man's being. It must therefore be able to speak, not only from the theoretical, scientific spirit, but from an artistic spirit also. It would speak from a religious, a social, an ethical spirit; and to do all this in accordance with the needs of practical life in these fields.

I have often expressed the task confronting us in Dornach with the help of a trivial comparison. If we think of a nut with its kernel inside and the shell around, we cannot think that the grooves and twists of the shell result from other laws than those that shape the kernel. The shell, in clothing the nut, is shaped by the same laws that shape the kernel. When the building at Dornach, this double cupola, was erected, our aim was to create an architectural, plastic, pictorial shell for what would be done within it as an expression of the anthroposophical view of the world. And just as one can speak in the language of thought from the rostrum in Dornach about what is perceived in super-sensible worlds, so must one be in a position to let the architectural, plastic, pictorial frame for the anthroposophical world-view proceed from the same spirit.

But a great danger confronts us here: the danger of having ideas about this or that and then simply giving them external expression in symbolic or insipidly allegorical form. (This is frequently done when world-views are given external representation: symbols or allegories are set up—thoroughly inartistic products which flout the really artistic sense.) It must be clearly understood, above all, that the anthroposophical conception of the world rejects such symbolic or allegorical negations of art (Widerkunst, Unkunst). As a view of the world, it should spring from an inner spiritual life so rich that it can express itself, not allegorically or symbolically, but in genuinely artistic creations.

In Dornach there is not a single symbol, not a single allegory to be seen. Everything that has been given artistic expression was born from artistic perception, came to birth in the moulding of forms, in creating out of the interplay of colours (aus dem Farbig-Malerischen heraus); it had its origin in a thoroughly artistic act of perception and had nothing to do with what is usually expressed when people come and ask: What does this mean? What does that signify? In Dornach no single form is intended to mean anything—in this sense. Every form is intended to be something—in the genuinely artistic sense; it means itself, expresses itself.

Those people who come to Dornach to-day and maintain that something symbolic or allegorical is to be seen there, are just projecting into our building their own prejudgements; they are not expressing what has come to birth with this building. Our aim is that the same spirit—not the theoretical spirit but the living spirit that speaks from the rostrum or confronts us from the stage—should speak also through the artistically plastic forms, through the architecture, through the paintings. The spirit at work in the “kernel” the spirit that finds expression through the spoken word—is to shape the “shell” also.

Now, if the anthroposophical view of the world is something new entering human evolution in the way I have ventured to describe in the two previous lectures, then, naturally, what had been in the world before could not find expression in our architectural style, our plastic and pictorial forms—i.e. in the visual art of our building. No artistic reminiscences, Antique, Renaissance or Gothic, could be brought in. The anthroposophical world-view had to show itself sufficiently productive to evolve its own style of visual art.

Of course, if such intentions press on one's heart and soul, one becomes very humble and one's own most severe critic. I certainly know that, if I had to build the Dornach building a second time, much that now appears to me imperfect, often indeed wrong, would be different. But this is not the essential thing. The essential thing, at least for to-day's lecture, is the intention (das Wollen) that I have just described. It is of this that I wish to speak.

When we speak of visual art, in so far as we have to consider it here—that is, the plastic art to which the anthroposophical world-view had been directed, as by inner necessity, through the fact that friends came forward and made the sacrifice required in order that the building at Dornach could be started—when we speak of visual art in this sense, we need, before all else, to understand thoroughly the human form. For, after all, everything in visual art points to, and proceeds from, the human form. We must understand the human form in a way that really enables us to create it.

I spoke yesterday of one element, the spatial element, in so far as this is an element in our world and, at the same time, proceeds from our human being. I said that the three spatial dimensions, by which we determine all the forms underlying our world, can be derived from the human form. But when one speaks as I spoke yesterday, one does not arrive at the apprehension of space needed for sensitive, artistic creation if one intends to pursue plastic art—that plastic art which underlies all visual art—with full consciousness. Precisely when one has space in its three dimensions so concretely before one's mind's eye as in yesterday's considerations, one sees that the space arrived at in this way cannot be the space in which one finds oneself when, for example, one forms—also in “space”, as we say—the human form plastically. One cannot obtain the space in which one finds oneself as a sculptor. One must say to oneself: That is quite a different space.

I touch here on a secret pertaining to our human way of looking at the world—a secret that our present-day perception has, one might almost say, quite lost. You will permit me to set out from a way of looking at things that is apparently—but only apparently—quite abstract, theoretical. But this excursion will be brief; it is intended only as an introduction to what will be able to come before our minds' eyes in a much more concrete form.

When we intend to apply to objects in this world the space of which I spoke yesterday—we apply it, of course, geometrically, using, in the first place, Euclidean geometry—we set out, as you all know, from a point and set up three axes at right angles to one another. (As I pointed out yesterday, one ought to take this point in concrete space to be within the human body.) Any region of space is then related to these axes by determining distances from them (or from the three planes that they determine). In this way we obtain a geometrical determination of any object occupying space; or, as in kinematics, one can express motion in space.

But there is another space than this: the space into which the sculptor enters. The secret of this space is that one cannot set out from one point and relate all else to it. One must set out from the counterpart of this point. And what is its counterpart? Nothing other than an infinitely remote sphere to which one might look up as at, let us say, the blue vault of heaven.

Imagine that I have, instead of a point, a hollow sphere in which I find myself, and that I relate all that is within it to this hollow sphere, determining everything in relation to it, instead of to a point by means of co-ordinates. So long as I describe it to you only in this way, you could rightly say: Yes, but this determination in relation to a hollow sphere is vague; I can form no mental picture when I try to think it. Well, you would be right; one can form no mental picture. But man is capable of relating himself to the cosmos—as we, yesterday, related ourselves to the human being (the “anthropos”). As we looked into the human being and found the three dimensions—as we can determine him in relation to these three dimensions, saying: his body extends linearly in one of the dimensions; in the second is the plane of the extended arms and all that is symmetrically built into the human organism; and in the third dimension is all that extends forwards and backwards, backwards and forwards—so, when we really look at the “anthropos” as an organism, we do not find something extended in an arbitrary way in three dimensions. We have before us the human organism built in a definite way.

We can also relate ourselves to the cosmos in the same way. What occurs in the soul when we do so? Well: imagine yourself standing in a field on a clear, starry night, with a free view of the sky. You see regions of the vaulted sky where the stars are closely clustered, almost forming clouds. You see other regions where the stars are more widely spaced and form constellations (as they are called). And so on. If you confront the starry heavens in this merely intellectual way—with your human understanding—you achieve nothing. But if you confront the starry heavens with your whole being, you experience (empfinden) them differently.

We have now lost the perceptive sense for this, but it can be reacquired. Facing a patch of sky where the stars are close together and form almost a cloud, will be a different experience from facing constellations. One experiences a patch of sky differently when the moon is there and shines. One experiences a night differently when the moon is new and not visible. And so on. And precisely as one can “feel” one's way into the human organism in order to have the three dimensions—where space itself is concrete, something connected with man—so one can acquire a perception of the cosmos, that is, of one's cosmic environment (Umkreis). One looks into oneself to find, for example, the three dimensions. But one needs more than that. One can now look out into the wide expanses and focus one's attention on their configurations. Then, as one advances beyond ordinary perception, which suffices for geometry, one acquires the perception needed for these wide expanses; one advances to what I called, yesterday and the day before, “imaginative cognition”. I have still to speak about its cultivation.

If one were simply to record what one sees out there in cosmic expanses, one would achieve nothing. A mere chart of the starry heavens, such as astronomers make to-day, leads nowhere. If, however, one confronts this cosmos as a whole human being, with full understanding of the cosmos, then, in face of these clusters of stars, pictures form themselves within the soul—pictures like those one sees on old maps, drawn when “imaginations” took shape out of the old, instinctive clairvoyance. One receives an “imagination” of the whole cosmos. One receives the counter-image of what I showed you yesterday as the basis, in man, of the three geometrical space-dimensions. What one receives can take an infinite variety of shapes.

Men have, indeed, no idea to-day of the way in which men once, in ancient times, when an instinctive clairvoyance still persisted among them, gazed out into the cosmos. People believe to-day that the various drawings, pictures—“imaginations”—which were made of the zodiacal signs, were the products of phantasy. They are not that. They were sensed (empfunden); they were perceived (geschaut) on confronting the cosmos. Human progress required the damping-down of this instinctive, living, imaginative perception, in order that intellectual perception, which sets men free, should come in its place. And from this, again, there must be achieved—if we wish to be whole human beings—a perception of the universe that attains once more to “Imagination”.

If one intends to take, in this way, one's idea of space from the starry heavens, one cannot express it exhaustively by three dimensions. One receives a space which I can only indicate figuratively. If I had to indicate the space I spoke of yesterday by three lines at right angles to one another, I should indicate this space by drawing everywhere sets of figures (Konfigurationen), as if surface forces (Kräfte in Flächen) from all directions of the universe were approaching the earth and, from without, were working plastically on the forms upon its surface.

[IMAGE REMOVED FROM PREVIEW]

One comes to such an idea when, advancing beyond what living beings—above all, human beings—present to physical eyes, one attains to what I have been calling “Imagination”. In this the cosmos, not the physical human being, reveals itself in images and brings us a new space. As soon as one gets so far, one perceives man's second body—what an older, prescient, instinctive clairvoyance called the “etheric body”. (A better name is “body of formative forces” (Bildekräfteleib).) This is a super-sensible body, consisting of subtle, etheric substantiality and permeating man's physical body. We can study this physical body if, within the space it occupies, we seek the forces that flow through it. But we cannot study the etheric body (body of formative forces) which flows through the human being if we set out from this space. We can study this only if we think of it as built up out of the whole cosmos: formed plastically from without by “planes of force” (Kraftflächen) converging on the earth from all sides and reaching man.

In this way, and in no other, did plastic art arise in times when it was still an expression of what is elemental and primary. Such a work as, for example, the Venus of Milo reveals this to an intuitive eye. It was not created after a study of anatomy, in respectful reliance on forces which are merely to be understood as proceeding from the space within the physical body. It was created with a knowledge, possessed in ancient times, of the body of formative forces which permeates the physical body and is formed from out of the cosmos—formed from out of a space as peripheral as earthly space (physical space) is central. A being that is formed from the periphery of the universe has beauty impressed upon it—“beauty” in the original meaning of the word. Beauty is indeed the imprint of the cosmos, made with the help of the etheric body, on a physical, earthly being.

If we study a physical, earthly being in accordance with the bare, dry facts, we find, of course, what it is for ordinary, physical space. But if we let its beauty work on us—if we intend to intensify its beauty by means of plastic art, we must become aware that the beauty impressed upon this being derives from the cosmos. The beauty of this individual being reveals to us how the whole cosmos works within it. In addition, one must, of course, feel how the cosmos finds expression in the human form, for example.

If we are able to study the human form with inward, imaginative perception, we are induced to focus our attention, at first, on the formation of the head apart from the rest. But, looking at this formation as a whole, we do not understand it if we try to explain it merely by what is within the head. We understand it only if we conceive it as wrought from out of the cosmos through the mediation of the body of formative forces.

If we now pass on to consider man's chest formation, we reach an inward understanding of this—an understanding in respect to the human form—only if we can picture to ourselves how man lives on the earth, round which the stars of the zodiacal line revolve. (Only apparently revolve, according to present-day astronomy, but that does not concern us here.) Whereas we relate man's head to the pole of the cosmos, we relate his chest formation—which certainly functions (verläuft) in the recurrent equatorial line—to what runs its course, in the most varied ways, in the annual or diurnal circuit of the sun.

It is not until we pass on to consider the limb-system of man, especially the lower limb-system, that we feel: This is not related to the external cosmos, but to earth; it is connected with the earth's force of gravity. Look with the eye of a sculptor at the formation of the human foot; it is adapted to the earth's gravitational force. We take in the whole configuration—how the thigh bones and shin bones are fitted together by the mediation of the knee—and find it all adapted, dynamically and statically, to the earth, and to the way in which the force of gravity works from the earth's centre outwards, into the universe.

We feel this when we study the human form with a sculptor's eye. For the head we need all the forces of the cosmos; we need the whole sphere if we want to understand what is expressed so wonderfully in the formation of the head. If we want to understand what finds expression in the formation of the chest, we need what, in a sense, flows round the earth in the equatorial plane; we are led to earth's environment. If we want to understand man's lower limb-system, to which his metabolic system is linked, we must turn to the earth's forces. Man is, in this respect, bound to the forces of the earth. Briefly: we discover a connection between all cosmic space—conceived as living—and the human form.

To-day, in many circles (including artistic circles), people will probably laugh at such observations as those I have just made. I can well understand why. But one knows little about the real history of human development if one laughs at such things. For anyone who can enter deeply into the ancient art of sculpture sees from the sculptured forms created then that feelings (Empfindungen), developed by the “imaginative” view of the starry heavens, have flowed into those forms. In the oldest works of sculpture it is the cosmos that has been made perceptible in the human form.

Of course, we must regard as knowledge, not only what is called such in an intellectual sense, but knowledge that is dependent upon the whole range of human soul-forces. One becomes a sculptor—really a sculptor—from an elemental urge, not just because one has learnt to lean on old styles and reproduce what is no longer known to-day, but was known in this or that period, when this or that style was alive and sculptors were yet creative. One does not become a sculptor by leaning on traditions—as is usual to-day, even with fully fledged artists; one becomes a sculptor by reaching back, with full consciousness, to the shaping forces which once led men to plastic art. One must re-acquire cosmic feelings; one must be again able to feel the universe and see in man a microcosm—a world in miniature. One must be able to see the impress of the cosmos stamped upon the human forehead. One must be able to see from the nose how it has received the imprint of what has also been stamped upon the whole respiratory system: the imprint of the environment—of what revolves round the earth in the equatorial and zodiacal lines. Then one senses what one must create (darstellen). One does not work by mere imitation, copying a model, but one recreates by immersing oneself in that force by which Nature herself created and shaped man. One forms as Nature herself forms. But then one's whole mode of feeling, in cognition and artistic expression, must be able to adapt itself to this.

When we have the human form before us, we direct our artistic eye at first to the head. We do this with the urge to give plastic form to the head. We then try to bring out all the details of this head, treating every surface with loving care: the forehead, the arches above the eyes, the ears and so on. We try to trace, with all possible care, the lines that run down the forehead and over the nose. We proceed, in accordance with our aim, to give this or that shape to the nose. In short, we try to bring out, with loving care, through the different surfaces, what pertains to the human head.

Perhaps what I am now about to say may sound heretical to many, but I believe it flows from fundamentally artistic feelings. If, as sculptors, we were striving to form human, human legs, we should feel persistent inhibition. One would like to shape the head as lovingly as possible, but not the legs. One would like to hide them—to by-pass them with the help of pieces of clothing, with something or other that conforms sculpturally to what finds expression in the head. A human form with correctly chiselled legs—calves, for example—offends the sculptor's artistic eye. I know that I am saying something heretical, but I also know that it is thereby the more fundamentally artistic. Correctly chiselled legs!—one does not want them. Why not? Well, simply because there is another anatomy for the sculptor; his knowledge of the human form is different from the anatomist's. For the sculptor—strange as it may sound—there are no bones and muscles. For him there is the human form, built out of the cosmos with the help of the body of formative forces. And in the human form there are for him forces, effects of forces, lines of force and force-configurations. As a sculptor I cannot possibly think of the cranium when I form the human head; I form the head from without inwards, as the cosmos has moulded it. And I form the corresponding bulges on the head in accordance with the forces that press upon the form from within outwards and oppose the forces working in from the cosmos.

When, as a sculptor, I form the arms, I do not think of the bones but of the forces that are active when, for example, I bend my arm. I have then lines of force, developing forces, not what takes shape as muscle or bone. And the thickness of the arm depends on what is present there as life-activity, not on the muscular tissue. Because, however, one has above all the urge to make the human form with its beauty conform to the cosmos, but can do so only with the head—the lower limbs being adapted to the earth—one leaves the lower limbs out. When one renders a human being in art, one would like to lift him from the earth. One would make a heavy earth-being of him, if one were to give too definite shape to his lower limbs.

Again, looking at the head alone, we see that only the upper part, the wonderfully vaulted skull, is a copy of the whole cosmos. (The skull is differently arched in every individual. There is no general, only an individual, “phrenology”.) The eyes and the nose resemble, in their formation, man's chest organism; they are formed as copies of his environment, of the equatorial stream. Hence, when I come to do the eyes of a sculptured figure of a human being, I must confine myself—since one cannot, as you know, represent a man's gaze, whether deep or superficial, by any shade of colour—to representing large or small, slit or oval, or more or less, less straight eyes. But how one represents the way the eye passes over into the form of the nose, or how the forehead does this—how one suggests that man sees by bringing his whole soul into his seeing—all that is different when the eyes are slit, oval or straight. And if one can only feel how a man breathes through his nose, this wonderful means of expression, one can say: As a man is in respect to his chest, as its form is shaped by the cosmos, working inwards, so does he, as a human being, press what breathes in his chest, and what beats in his heart, up into his eyes and nose. It comes to expression there in the plastic form.

How a man is in respect to his head only finds proper expression in the cranium, which is, in respect to its form, an imprint of the cosmos. How a man reacts to the cosmos, not only by taking in oxygen and remaining passive, but by having his own share of physical matter and, in his chest, exposing his own being to the cosmos—that finds sculptured expression in the formation of the eyes and his nose.

And when we shape the mouth? Oh, in shaping the mouth we really give shape to the whole inner man in his opposition to the cosmos. We express the manner in which the man reacts to the world out of his metabolic system. In forming the mouth and shaping the chin—in forming all that belongs to the mouth-formation—we are giving form to the “man of limbs and metabolism”, but we spiritualise him and present him as an outwardly active form. Thus one who has a human head before his sculptor's eye has the whole man before him—man as an expression of his “system”: the “nerve-sense-system” in the cranium with its remarkable bulges; the “eye-nose-formation” which, if I were to speak platonically, I should have to call an expression of the man as a man of courage—as a man who sets his inner self, in so far as it is courageous, in opposition to the external cosmos; and the mouth as an expression of what he is in his inner being. (Of course, the mouth, as a part of the head-formation, is also shaped from without, but what a man is in his inner being works from within against the configuration from without.)

Only some sketchy hints that require to be thought out could be given here. But you will have seen from these brief indications that the sculptor requires more than a knowledge of man gained from imitating a human model; he must actually be able to experience inwardly the forces that work through the cosmos when they build the human form. The sculptor must be able to grasp what takes place when a human being is plastically formed from the fertilised ovum in the mother's body—not merely by forces in the mother's body, but by cosmic forces working through the mother. He must be able to create in such a way that, at the same time, he can understand what the individual human being reveals of himself, more and more, as the sculptor approaches the lower limbs. He must, above all, be able to understand how man's wonderful outer covering—the form of his skin—results from two sets of forces: the peripheral forces working inwards, from all directions, out of the cosmos, and the centrifugal forces working outwards and opposing the former. Man in his external form must be, for the sculptor, a result of cosmic forces and inner forces. One must have such a feeling towards all details.

In art one needs a feeling for one's material and should know for what this or that material is suited; otherwise, one is not working sculpturally but only illustrating an idea, working novellistically. If one is forming the human figure in wood, let us say, one will know when at work on the head that one must feel the form pressing from without inwards. That is the secret of creating the human form. When I form the forehead, I am constrained to feel that I am pressing it in from without, while forces from within oppose me. I must only press, more lightly or more strongly, as required in order to restrain the forces working from within. I must press, lightly or strongly, as the cosmic forces (which indicate how the head must be formed) permit.

But when I come to the rest of the human body, I can make no progress if I form and build from without inwards. I cannot but feel that I am inside. Already when I come to form the chest, I must place myself inside the man and work plastically from within outwards. This is very interesting.

When one is at work on the head, one comes through the inner necessity of artistic creation to work from without inwards—to think of oneself on the extreme periphery and working inwards; when one forms the chest, one must place oneself inside and bring the form out. Lower down one feels: here I must only give indications; here we pass over into the indefinite.

Artistic creation of our time is very often inclined to regard the sort of things I have been saying here as an inartistic spinning of fancies. But it is only a matter of being able to experience artistically in one's soul what I have just hinted at: of being able actually to stand, as an artist, within the whole creative cosmos. Then one is led, from all sides, to avoid imitating the human physical form when one approaches plastic art. For the human physical form is itself only an imitation of the “body of formative forces”. Then one will feel the necessity felt, above all, by the Greeks. They would never have produced the forms of their noses and foreheads by mere imitation; an instinct for such things as I have just described was fundamental with them. One will be able to return to a really fundamental artistic feeling only if, in this way, one can place oneself with all the inner feeling of one's soul—with one's inner “total cognition” (if I may use this expression)—within nature's creative forces. Then one does not set to work on the external, physical body, which is itself only an imitation of the etheric body, but on the etheric body itself. One forms this etheric body and then only fills it out (in a sense) with matter.

What I have just described is, at the same time, a way out of the theoretical view of the world and into a living perception of what can no longer be viewed theoretically. One cannot construct the sculptor's space by analytical geometry, as one constructs Euclidean space. One can, however, perceive (erschauen), by “imagination”, this space—pregnant with forms, everywhere able to produce shapes out of itself, and from such perception (Schauen) one can create forms in plastic art, architectural or sculptural.

At this point I should like to make a remark which seems important to me, so that something which could easily be misunderstood will be less misunderstood. If someone has a magnetic needle, and one end points to the north, the other to the (magnetic) south, it will not occur to him—if he does not want to talk as a dilettante—to explain the direction of the needle by inner forces of the needle: that is, by considering only what is comprised within the steel. That would be nonsense. He includes the whole earth in his explanation of the needle's direction. He goes outside the magnetic needle. Embryology makes to-day the dilettantish mistake; it looks at the human ovum only as it develops in the mother's body. All the forces that form the human embryo are supposed to be therein. In reality, the whole cosmos works through the mother's body upon the configuration of the embryo. The plastic forces of the whole cosmos are there, as are the forces of the earth in directing the magnetic needle. Just as I must go beyond the needle when studying its behaviour, so, when considering the embryo, I must look beyond the maternal body and take account of the whole cosmos. And I must immerse myself in the whole cosmos if I want to apprehend what guides my hand, what guides my arm, when I strive, as a sculptor, to form the human figure.

You see: the anthroposophical world-view leads directly from merely theoretical to artistic considerations. For it is not possible to study the etheric body in a purely theoretical way. Of course one must have the scientific spirit, in the sense in which I characterised it yesterday, but one must press on to a study of the “body of formative forces” by transforming into “imaginations” what weaves in mere thoughts; that is, by grasping the external world, not only by means of thoughts or natural laws formulated in thoughts, but by “imaginations”. What we have so grasped, however, can be expressed in “imaginations” again. And if we become productive, it passes over into artistic creation.

It is strange to survey the kingdoms of nature with the consciousness that such a body of formative forces exists. The mineral kingdom has no such body; we find it first in the plant kingdom. Animals have a body of formative forces; man also. But the plant's is very different from the animal's or man's. We are confronted here by a peculiar fact: think of yourself as equipped with the sensitive powers of an artistic sculptor and expected to give plastic shape to plant forms. It is repugnant to you. (I tried it recently, at least in relief.) One cannot give a form to plants; one can only indicate their movements in some vague way. One cannot shape plants plastically. Just imagine a rose, or any other plant with a long stalk, plastically formed: impossible! Why? Because, when one thinks of the plastic shape of a plant, one thinks instinctively of its body of formative forces; and this is within the plant, as is its physical body, but directly expressed. Nature sets the plant before us as a work of plastic art. One cannot alter it. Any attempt to mould a plant would be bungling botchwork in face of what Nature herself produces in the physical and formative-force bodies of a plant. One must simply let the plant be as it is—or contemplate it with a sculptor's mind, as Goethe did in his morphology of plants.

An animal can be given plastic shape. The artistic creation of animal forms is, indeed, somewhat different from artistic creation when we are confronting a human being. One needs only to understand that if an animal is, let us say, a beast of prey, it must be apprehended as a “creature of the respiratory process.” One must see it as a breathing being and, to a certain extent, mould all the rest around the respiratory process. If one intends to give plastic shape to a camel or a cow, one must start from the digestive process and adapt the whole animal to this. In short, one must perceive inwardly, with an artistic eye, what is the main thing. If one differentiates further what I am now indicating in more general terms, one will be able to give plastic shape to the various animal forms.

Why? Well, a plant has an etheric body, created for it from out of the cosmos. It is finished. I cannot re-shape it. The plant is a plastic work of art in the world of nature. To form plants of marble or wood contradicts the whole sense of the factual world. It would be more possible in wood, for wood is nearer to the plant's nature; but it would be inartistic. But an animal sets its own nature against what is being formed from without, out of the cosmos. With an animal, the etheric body is no longer formed merely from the cosmos; it is also formed from within.

And in the case of a human being? Well, I have just said that his etheric body is formed from the cosmos only so far as the cranium is involved. I have said that the respiratory organisation, working in a refined state through eyes and nose, opposes the cosmic action, while the whole metabolic organisation, through the formation of the mouth, offers opposition also. What comes from the human being is active there and opposes the cosmos. Man's outer surface is the result of these two actions: the human and the cosmic. The etheric body is so formed that it unfolds from within. And by artistic penetration to “within”, we become able to create forms freely. We can investigate how an animal forms its etheric body for itself from its being (Wesenheit), and how a courageous or cowardly, a suffering or rejoicing human being tunes his etheric body to his soul life; and we can enter into all that and give form to such an etheric body. If we do this, and have the right sculptural understanding, we shall be able to form the human figure in many different ways.

Thus we see that, when we come to study the etheric body—the “imaginative body”—we can let ordinary scientific study be thoroughly scientific, while we, however, pass on to what becomes, of itself, art. Someone may interpose: Indeed, art is not science. But I said, the day before yesterday: If nature, the world, the cosmos are themselves artistic, confronting us with what can only be grasped artistically, we may go on asserting that it is illogical to become artistic if we would understand things, but things simply do not yield to a mode of cognition that does not pass over into art. The world can be understood only in a way which is not confined to what can be apprehended by thoughts alone, but leads to the universal apprehension of the world and finds the wholly organic, natural transition from observation to artistic perception, and to artistic creation too. Then the same spirit that speaks through the words when one gives expression, in a more theoretical way—in the form of ideas—to what one perceives (erschaut) in the world, will speak from our plastic art. Art and science then derive from the same spirit; we have in them only two sides of one and the same revelation. We can say: In science, we look at things in such a way that we express in thoughts what we have perceived; in art, we express it in artistic forms.

From this inner, spiritual conviction was born, for example, what has found expression in the architecture, and in the painting too, in the building at Dornach. I could say much about painting also, for it belongs, in a sense, to the plastic arts. But that would bring us to what pertains more to man's soul life and finds direct expression, not in the etheric body alone, but in the soul tingeing the etheric body. Here, too, you would see that the anthroposophical apprehension of the world leads to the fundamentally artistic level—the level of artistic “creativity”—whereas we to-day, in the religious as well as in the artistic sphere—though this is mostly unknown to artists themselves—live only on what is traditional, on old styles and motives. We believe we are productive to-day, but we are not. We must find the way back into creative nature, if our work is to be artistically spontaneous, original creation.

And this conviction has led, of itself, to Eurhythmy: the branch of art that has grown upon the soil of Anthroposophy. What the human being does in speech and song, through a definite group of organs, as a revelation of his being, can be extended to his whole being, if one really understands it. In this respect all the ancient religious documents (Urkunden) speak from old, instinctive, clairvoyant insights. And it is significant that it is said in the Bible that Jahwe breathed into man the living breath. This indicates that man is, in a certain respect, a being of respiration. I indicated yesterday that, in olden times of human evolution, the view predominated that man is a “breather”, a being of respiration. What man, as a being of respiration, becomes in “configurated breathing”—i.e. in speech and in song—can be given back to the whole man and his physical form. The movements of his vocal cords, his tongue and other organs when he speaks or sings, can be extended over his whole being—for every single organ and system of organs is, in a certain sense, an expression of his whole being. Then something like Eurhythmy can arise.

We need only remind ourselves of the inner character of Goethe's doctrine of metamorphosis, which is not yet sufficiently appreciated. Goethe sees, correctly, the whole plant in the single leaf. The whole plant is contained in the leaf in a primitive form; and the whole plant is only a more complicated leaf. In every single organ he sees a whole organic being metamorphosed in some way or other, and the whole organic being is a metamorphosis of its individual members (Glieder). The whole human being is a more complicated metamorphosis of one single organic system: the glottal system. If one understands how the whole human being is a metamorphosis of the glottal system, one is able to develop from the whole man a visible speech and visible song by movements of his limbs and by groups of performers in motion. And this development can be as genuine, and can proceed with as much inner, natural necessity as the development of song and speech from one specialised organ. One is within the creative forces of nature; one immerses oneself in the way in which our forces act in speaking or singing. When one has grasped these forces, one can transfer them to the forms of motion of the whole human being, as one transfers, in plastic art, the forces of the cosmos to the human form at rest. And as one gives expression to what lives within a man—emerging from his soul in poetry or song, or in some other art—as one expresses what can be expressed through speech, song or the art of recitation, so, too, can one express through the whole human being, in visible speech and song, what lives within him.

I should like to put it in this way: When we, as sculptors, give plastic shape to the human form, creating the microcosm out of the whole macrocosm, we create one pole; when we now immerse ourselves in the man's inner life, following its inner mobility, entering into his thinking, feeling and willing—into all that can find expression through speech and song—we can create “sculpture in motion” (bewegte Plastik). One could say: when one creates a work of plastic art, it is as if the whole wide universe were brought together in a wonderful synthesis. And what is concentrated in the deepest part of the human being, as at a point within his soul, strives, in the formed movements put out by the eurhythmist, to flow out into cosmic spaces. In the art of Eurhythmy—in “sculpture in motion”—the other pole responds from the human side. In the sculptor's plastic art we see the cosmic spaces turn towards the earth and flow together in the human form at rest. Then, concentrating on man's inner life, immersing ourselves in it spiritually, we perceive (schauen) what, to some extent, streams out from man to all points of the periphery of the universe and would meet those cosmic forces that flow in upon him from all sides and build his form; we design Eurhythmy accordingly.

I should like to add: the universe sets us a great task, but the beautiful human form is the answer. Man's inner life also sets us a great task; we explore infinite depths when, with our soul's loving gaze, we concentrate on man's inner life. This human inner life, too, strives out into all the wide expanses and, in darting, oscillating movements, would give rhythmic expression to what has been “compressed” to a point—as plastic art strives to have all the secrets of the cosmos compressed in the human form (which is, for the cosmos, a point). The human form in plastic art is the answer to the great question put to us by the universe. And when man's art of movement becomes cosmic and creates something of a cosmic nature in its own movements—as in the case of Eurhythmy—then a kind of universe is born from man, figuratively at least.

We have before us two poles of visual art: in the very ancient plastic art and in the newly created art of Eurhythmy. But one must enter into the spirit of what is artistic, as we did above, if one would really understand the right of Eurhythmy to be considered an art. One must return to the way in which plastic art once took its place in human life. One can easily picture to oneself shepherds in a field who, in the small hours of the night, turn their sleepy, but waking, eyes to the starry heavens and receive unconsciously into their souls the cosmic pictures formed by the configured “imaginations” of the stars. What was revealed to the hearts of primitive men in this way was transmitted to sons and grandsons; what had been inherited grew in their souls and became plastic abilities in the grandsons. The grandfather felt the cosmos in its beauty, the grandson formed beautiful plastic art with the forces which his soul had received from the cosmos.

Anthroposophy must look into, and not only theorise about, the secrets of the human soul. It must experience the tragic situation of the human soul, all its exultations and all that lies between. And Anthroposophy must be able to see more than what evokes the tragic mood, what is now exultant and all that lies between. As one saw the stars clearly in older “imagination”, and was able to receive into one's soul the formative forces from the stars, so one must take out of the human soul what one perceives there, and be able to communicate it through outer movements; then Eurhythmy begins.

What I have said to-day is only intended to be once more a cursory indication of the natural transition from Anthroposophy as a body of ideas to Anthroposophy as immediate, unallegorical, unsymbolical plastic art, creating in forms—as is our aim. Anyone who sees this clearly will discover the remarkable relation of art to science and religion. Science will appear on one level, religion on another, and art between them. It is to science, after all, that man owes all his freedom—he would never have been able to attain to complete inner freedom without science—and what man has gained as an individual—what his being, regarded impartially, has gained by his becoming scientific—will be apparent. With his thoughts he has freed himself from the cosmos; he stands alone and is thereby a human individuality. As he lives with natural laws, so does he take them into his thoughts. He becomes independent in face of nature. In religion he is drawn to devotion; he seeks to find his way back to the essential foundations of nature. He would be again a part of nature, would sacrifice his freedom on the altar of the universe, would devote himself to the Deity—would add to the breath of freedom and of individuality the breath of sacrifice. But art, especially plastic art, stands between, with all that is rooted in the realm of beauty.

Through science man becomes a free, individual being. In religious observance he offers up his own well-being, on the one hand maintaining his freedom, but already, on the other, anticipating sacrificial service. In art he finds he can maintain himself by sacrificing, in a certain sense, what the world has made of him; he shapes himself as the world has shaped him, but he creates as a free being this form from out of himself. In art, too, there is something that redeems and sets free. In art we are, on the one side, individuals; on the other, we offer ourselves in sacrifice. And we may say: In truth, art sets us free, if we take hold of it scientifically, with ideas—including those of spiritual science. But we must also say: In beauty we find again our connection with the world. Man cannot exist without living freely in himself, and without finding his connection with the world. Man finds his individuality in thought that is free. And by raising himself to the realm of beauty—the realm of art—he finds he can, again in co-operation with the world, create out of himself what the world has made of him.

• 1. The first Goetheanum, burnt down on New Year's night, 1922/23. The second Goetheanum, modelled by Rudolf Steiner not long before his death in 1925, was opened in 1928.

What seems most disconcerting to many people who are not yet familiar with anthroposophy is that it not only has something different to say than what we are accustomed to hearing in the natural sciences and in life today, but that it also has to say it in a different way, in a different form. And in a sense, it is precisely this different mode of expression, this different form, that people find most difficult to forgive in anthroposophy. They immediately begin to measure and criticize what anthroposophy has to say against what they are accustomed to and what they otherwise have in today's science and in today's life.

What I have just said will probably have to be emphasized most today, when I have to speak to you about the way and the methods by which anthroposophy arrives at its research results. These methods are, of course, quite different from the methods of external observation and also from the usual methods of thinking. Today, when we talk about scientific methodology, we are accustomed to being told about things that come to us from outside: observations, experiments, and so on. And in the treatment of observation and experiment, we then see the methods of research.

This is not the case with anthroposophy, especially when it comes to the foundations of anthroposophy. And that is what I am mainly talking about today. Of course, when anthroposophy spreads to the individual sciences, such as mathematics, physics, chemistry, biology and so on, as can be seen from the discussions that have already taken place here, then the methods of spiritual research, which I am speaking about today, will touch on some point with the experimental and observational methods that one is otherwise accustomed to in the clinic, in the laboratory, in the observatory and so on. But today we shall be dealing with the foundations, so to speak, with the way of entering into the soul state through which one can present anthroposophical results to the world at all. It is absolutely essential that research in the field of anthroposophy can only be carried out when the researcher has developed his soul forces, his powers of knowledge, further than they are in ordinary life, in ordinary science. One must develop what I would call intellectual modesty. This intellectual modesty can be characterized in the following way. Think back to when you were a child, think of the dull mental experiences of early childhood. You will have to say to yourself that the clear overview of life and the world around you, which you acquired in later life, was still missing then. The ability to orientate yourself in the world was still lacking. All this one has developed within oneself. Compared to one's childhood, one has become a completely different person, not only physically and bodily but also mentally and spiritually. Abilities have sprouted from within that now serve one in life and in science. Just as the human soul is now, so one says to oneself: Certainly, education and life have drawn certain abilities out of my inner being since my childhood. But now I am finished. Now I have certain abilities with which I want to know the world, with which I want to place myself in the world as a human being who acts, who does things; with which I also want to judge my religious and moral impulses. One does not say to oneself: What has happened to the human soul from childhood until now could perhaps continue to happen. One could just as well say: I could extract further abilities from my soul. Then I would consciously make a person out of myself with quite a different soul capacity, a person who might differ from the normal person of today just as I differ from the child in my present state of soul.

As I said, it takes intellectual modesty to say what I have just characterized at a certain point in one's life and then to put it into practice. To put it into practice in such a way that one really tries to make progress, to bring up abilities hidden in the soul to the goal of further research. For how could the results of research in today's science, how could the moral-religious impulses in today's life have taken hold in the world if all people had developed only with the soul-condition that they had in childhood?

And so it is absolutely necessary for anthroposophical spiritual scientific research to take the position quite seriously: I want to bring out of my soul abilities that are dormant in my soul today, just as the abilities that are now manifest once lay dormant in my soul during childhood.

I will still have to explain that not everyone who really wants to commit themselves to anthroposophical research, or who wants to be active in it, must also become a researcher in the sense I have just indicated. But in order to achieve real results, real outcomes, something like what I have said must take place. When these research results are then presented to the world, they are perfectly accessible to common sense and can be tested by it; just as anyone who is not a painter can judge a picture artistically. So, to understand anthroposophy, it is not necessary to go through everything that I will have to describe today, but it is necessary for research. And it is also necessary to discuss it for the reason that, to a certain extent, the anthroposophical researcher has to account to his fellow human beings for how he arrives at his results.

Now I would like to start from the most fundamental point, from which one can start in this day and age if one wants to characterize the anthroposophical research method. Basically, you can find everything that is the first, let's say, axiom, that is the first, most elementary thing to understand the anthroposophical research method, in my “Philosophy of Freedom”, yes, in even older of my books. This “Philosophy of Freedom” was published in 1894, and was actually written much earlier. It may perhaps even surprise some who know this book that I make this claim, and yet it is true: the most elementary understanding of anthroposophical research methods can be gleaned from this “Philosophy of Freedom”. What one draws from it as an elementary understanding must then, however, be further developed. Only the most elementary things can be found in this “Philosophy of Freedom”. But these most elementary things can be found.

In this “Philosophy of Freedom” I have tried to determine where the moral impulses, the ethical, the moral impulses of man actually come from. Now, because I will only be able to briefly characterize this “Philosophy of Freedom” today, I will characterize it in a slightly different way than it is done in the book itself, tying in with some of the things I have said here in the previous days.

I believe that anyone reading this “Philosophy of Freedom” will find that there is something like mathematical thinking in it - strange as it may seem, but there it is - a mathematical thinking in that this “Philosophy of Freedom” actually aims to find the human impulse of freedom and the moral impulses. But the way in which this “Philosophy of Freedom” attempts to talk about the moral world is not qualitatively different from that which is present in us as a state of mind when we do mathematics. I have characterized this mathematizing in the preceding days. I have shown how it is drawn from the depths of the human soul, how we then, as it were, forget ourselves, how we forget that we have drawn mathematical space out of ourselves, and how we then live in this space with our view of space. I also said: People are initially interested when it comes to their own human abilities, not so much in what state of mind one is in when one mathematizes. I would say that there are only a few people in the world who, if I may use the expression, have the right respect for mathematization. For example, Novalis, a profound, amiable, extraordinarily sympathetic poet, had this proper respect for mathematization. Anyone who allows Novalis' poetry to take effect on them has the impression: there is a wonderful lyrical momentum, there is a complete enthusiasm, there is poetry in the soul. And when Novalis, the wonderful lyricist, starts talking about mathematics, he says something like: In mathematics we have, basically, the most beautiful, the greatest, the most powerful human poetry! I know how few people admit this at first. But, as I said, the amiable, profound lyricist Novalis knew – because he was a mathematician – what is stirred in the soul when one does not merely solve individual mathematical problems in a mechanical way, even if they are problems of function theory, number theory and the like, or of synthetic geometry; he knew how the soul feels when it is so enraptured that it forgets itself and knows itself in the space outside.

But now one thing is possible. It is possible, in fact, if one is familiar with this state of mind of mathematical thinking that Novalis speaks of so wonderfully, and can then put oneself in a position to gain something completely different from the same state of mind, namely the experience of moral impulses. In other words, if one succeeds in grasping and experiencing moral problems with the same inner clarity and the same inner certainty with which one solve, let us say, the Pythagorean theorem, to grasp and experience moral problems, then one knows: one is in the spiritual, in the supersensible world with this grasping of moral problems, and one speaks of the fact that in this supersensible world moral intuitions flow into the soul with the moral impulses. One knows that one is feeling one's way within the moral world, that one is feeling one's way in a supersensible world, which has nothing to do with what can be perceived externally through the senses. One knows that one is in a world where, firstly, one experiences one's deepest inner moral impulses directly; where one is one with them; where, because one is one with them, they are intuitive insights. And one knows a second thing. One knows that no matter how long one looks around in the sensory world, no matter how astutely one thinks and observes and experiments, what one, if I may say so, discovers in the mathematical world as moral intuitions cannot come from any sensory external world; it comes to one from the supersensible world. But that means, in other words, that it is inspired. The real, the deepest moral impulses that a person can receive from the supersensible world are intuitions that are at the same time inspired for our soul. And although they are not visual, do not appear in pictures, they are nevertheless there in the same way as sense perceptions themselves. Just as sensory perceptions are in the realm of the sensual, so too are moral impulses in the supersensible realm. That is to say, they are imaginations. And anyone who has discovered in which world the moral element, as also meant by Novalis, is experienced, knows that this moral element appears in this field, that it appears to the person who is completely removed from the sensory world as intuitions, which are both inspirations and imaginations. In short, by trying to gain a moral foundation for human life from the supersensible world, one learns to recognize how the soul must experience if it wants to be in the supersensible world. And it must be said that for today's human being - I have explained how it is different for the person who undergoes the yoga practice, or who undergoes the practice of grammar, rhetoric, dialectics, and so on - for today's human being, it is first of all the best way for a person to get to know how to leave their physical body and live in a purely spiritual world, if they live in a purely supersensible world in the way that I have tried to indicate in my Philosophy of Freedom.

I know that very many people are not satisfied with such a way of living in the spiritual world, because in this world only moral truths appear, which one prefers to accept as commandments, as conventional facts, and so on. But I am not here to talk further about the “Philosophy of Freedom”, but only about the elementary methodical. But once you have become familiar with this special way of being in the supersensible world, you are encouraged to go further, to try to see whether it is not also possible for other areas of life to penetrate into a supersensible world in relation to the sensory world. And then one gradually comes to the point where methods of inner soul development are really possible, which lead people up the path to see the whole cosmos and human inner knowledge in such a way, otherwise, in the sense of the “Philosophy of Freedom”, one only looks at the moral, where one does not yet want to admit that it is a matter of the supersensible, if one does not go into the actual foundation of the matter.

The methods by which one ascends into the supersensible world in other fields consist in further developing the ordinary soul powers as one has them in ordinary life and in ordinary science. And these soul powers are, after all, first of all, if we characterize them externally in abstract terms, thinking, feeling and willing. We distinguish these three soul abilities, thinking, feeling and willing, but in the unified life of the soul they are not strictly separated from each other. One would actually have to say: when we speak of thinking, of mental images, we are speaking of a 'soul ability in which, for example, the will and also feeling are present, but it is mainly thinking that is present. In the will, on the other hand, thoughts are definitely present, but it is mainly will that is present. Thus, it is only the most salient feature that is referred to in the individual soul abilities, while everywhere below the surface, one might say, the other soul abilities also lie.

This becomes particularly important when it comes to the further development, the evolution, of the ability to think, of the power of thought. For this, we must be clear about the following. First, we must be clear about our relationship to the things around us and to ourselves in ordinary life and in ordinary science. We perceive the world through our senses, through our eyes, ears, and so on. We live with a certain inner intensity in these sensory perceptions. Then we form mental images of what we perceive with our senses. We move away from the things we perceive with our senses. In our mental images, there remains an afterimage of what we experienced with our senses. But consider how dull and shadowy the thought, the mental image, is compared to what we experienced with full vitality in our sensory perception. These mental images that are linked to sensory perceptions are dull and shadowy. And we are accustomed in life and even in ordinary science to let the sensory perceptions speak to us and to passively surrender to these sensory perceptions so that they awaken in us the mental images that make what we have perceived through the senses permanent. And then, more or less clearly, even after a long time or throughout our whole life, we can in turn bring up from the depths of our soul or our human being, as memories, what we have experienced externally through the senses. The mental images that are otherwise linked to the sensory perceptions and that are faint and shadowy in comparison to the sensory perceptions can also arise from us, from memory. We experience inwardly in the life of mental images what we perceive outwardly through the senses; we experience it again through memory. It should be clear, very clear, that just about all ordinary life, even that which is immersed in science, proceeds in this way in terms of imagining: that we expose ourselves to the liveliness of sensory perceptions, that we then get dull mental images, but that we can bring up again from our human being in memory that which we have received from outside as impressions. Our inner life is mostly nothing more than more or less transformed, metamorphosed mental images in the sense of external perception.

I will not go into the deeper nature of memory today, because I want to describe how what I have just characterized in terms of mental images can be further developed. It can be further developed by thinking in a way that does not merely tie in with external sense perceptions, but by thinking through the methods that I have mentioned in my book “How to Know Higher Worlds?” and in my “Secret Science”: meditation, concentration, and so on - the names are not important. You will find a detailed description of how to proceed in the books mentioned. I will now only explain the principles.

While thoughts usually arise when we passively devote ourselves to perceptions or when the echoes of experiences resurface from memories, to become an anthroposophical spiritual researcher, one tries to do so through inner arbitrariness, as one has learned to do when mathematizing, when solving mathematical problems, so that one carries out everything fully consciously, not in a dreamy, hallucinatory state – that would be the opposite of what I will describe today – but in full awareness, devoting oneself to thinking and imagining, so that one learns to rest on mental images that one has arbitrarily brought into one's consciousness. It is good to bring into the center of your consciousness mental images that are as clear as possible, not those in which you can experience all kinds of nebulous, mystical stuff, but those that you can easily grasp. What matters then is not what kind of mental image you have, but the soul activity that you develop in this meditation. Just note: if you continually tense a muscle when you need it for work, the muscle becomes strong. The same thing happens with your soul's thinking power when you repeatedly concentrate on mental images that you bring to the center of your consciousness. The power of thought becomes stronger and stronger and finally reaches a point where you can say: “Now I am able to have my mental images as vividly as I otherwise only have external sensory impressions.” Mind you, I do not have hallucinations or illusions. These come from the unconscious. I now live in such vivid inner mental images as are otherwise external sensory perceptions, but I live in them with full consciousness, not with that dreamy mood of the soul, that mystical, nebulous mood of the soul, as it is present in hallucinations or visions. It must be a mathematical state of mind, through which one can immerse oneself in such inner experiences from mere mental images, which one otherwise only has when one is devoted to external sensory perception. One must compare, to say it again, the vividness and intensity of external sensory perception with what one otherwise experiences only pale and shadowy in thought. But in the way I have described, one learns more and more to be inwardly present with thoughts that have only been raised inwardly, as one is otherwise only present when some external sense impression stimulates one. No more pale, shadowy thoughts - inwardly vivid thoughts! The soul's power of thought has been strengthened. One has summoned a new power from the depths of one's soul. One has strengthened one's thinking power. When one has strengthened one's thinking, one has reached the first step of supersensible knowledge. In my books I have called this the imaginative stage of knowledge. One has reached the stage of imagination. This stage of imagination shows one, by means of the very vivid mental image that one now has: something is connected with this mental image.

Let us once again take up our ordinary sensory life and our ordinary mental images. Today we perceive something. We are vividly immersed in this perception. We form a pale, shadowy mental image. After a week, say, prompted by something or also free-rising, as one might say, this mental image arises again from memory. It comes out of us, to put it trivially. The fact that I once had the sensory experience is the cause of the same mental image emerging again later from my inner human being in memory. Now, after my practice, I am able to have thoughts that are intensified in my consciousness, which I call imaginative thoughts because they occur with the vividness, with the intensity of images, because they are really like sensory images, even though they are only thoughts at first. But just as otherwise, through the fact that I have thought about an external experience – if I just stare at it, no memory comes to me later, only if I have thought about it – a memory can come from my own being, so through the fact that I now have a thought, and to an increased extent in the soul, something comes to me from my own being, which at first looks like a memory, but which is not a memory. Something is now arising that is not a reminiscence of an external sensual experience, but something that I have never before perceived arising from within me at all. If I may put it this way: just as memories of ordinary experiences arise otherwise, so now, through the power of intensified thinking, that which I have never before seen inwardly arises from within. And I will very soon recognize what that is that is arising. I try, by continuing to meditate, to bring it to ever greater and greater clarity in this inner arising, and I finally come to understand what this inner arising actually is. I come to it: this inner ascent is I myself, as I have developed in the time since my birth here on earth.

Otherwise we have only the stream of memories, from which individual ones arise that are otherwise down there in the unconscious. I do not mean these memories. These memories are indeed what also arise in ordinary consciousness. But what is now arising, called forth from the inner being through the power of intensified thinking, that is not just thought, memory thought, it is that which leads me much deeper into my inner human nature than the power of memory. It is something that leads me, so to speak, deeper into the layers of my inner being than memory thoughts do. It is something that shows me how, as a small child, I used abilities that I had in my soul to shape my organism plastically from the brain outwards. This is what shows me how, as a somewhat older child, I used my ability to speak to further develop my inner self in a plastic way. In short, my innermost life comes before my soul in a grand, powerful tableau, the like of which I have never seen before. And what now comes before my soul is not just an image. Please bear this in mind. It is not just an image, but something that I recognize by grasping it, that it is connected with my growth forces, with that which grows in me, which also lives in me in the nourishing forces, in the circulation, in the breathing forces, which is in fact an inner, supersensible body in relation to the physical body. I am now getting to know a second person in me. I am learning to recognize that I can say the following to myself: You carry your outer body with you, it is extended in space, it has arms, feet, a head and so on. That is a spatial body. But what you have now discovered through your meditation, through imaginative recognition, that is an organism that lives in time, not in space, a time organism.

It is difficult for today's man when one speaks to him of such a time organism. But this time organism really is present in us as a second person, and we may call it an organism. Because you come to it, let's say, when you've become an old fellow, as I may say of myself, you know, you have a certain soul configuration. This soul configuration, which you now carry within you, is connected with a soul configuration perhaps in the fifth or sixth year of life. And just as my left hand is connected in my spatial organism, for my sake, with some part of my brain in this spatial organism, and just as the brain is in this spatial organism so that the individual parts relate to each other, so the individual parts of the time organism relate to each other in time, not in space. I carry this time organism within me. I have called it the etheric body or formative forces body in my books. This formative forces body is a time organism. It is the first thing we discover on the path of imaginative research. We survey our previous life on earth in its inwardly creative, supersensible forces. We do not speculate about a life force, but we look at our past life on earth as an internally organized tableau, as a time organism, as the formative body. Older, less conscious views of these things, which were more intuitive, more instinctive, but which knew something of these things in their intuitions, called this time body, this body of formative forces, the ether body. It is not the terms that are important, but what is meant by these things. In this etheric body, one has a reality, a time reality within oneself, and no one understands the formation of the human being without understanding this etheric body. And the most significant thing about this etheric body is that, at the moment we are ready, we can see our previous life on earth as if with a spiritual vision in this life tableau, which is the formative forces body, and we also stop distinguishing between subjective and objective. We could draw a diagram of the etheric body, or formative body, which we carry within us and which is a fluid temporal body. But we must realize that we are then depicting in a single instant something that is constantly flowing. Just as one cannot depict lightning, one cannot depict this etheric body either. One can only paint a moment that is captured. We must realize that our human formation depends on this body of formative forces. And in the moment when we become aware that this etheric body within us is a body of forces, without knowing the inner structure of which we cannot understand the human being, we realize that the same forces that work within us as such an etheric body also permeate the world as etheric forces; that subjective and objective cease to have any meaning; that this formative body of forces is connected with the great course of time of the universe; that we are part of this great universe. We begin to speak of the etheric processes of the universe, for these become clear to us at the moment when we arrive at such a vivid mental image, as we otherwise only have external sense perceptions in a vivid way. And we can achieve this through meditation. In short, we enter into an etheric world. But at the same time we learn to recognize the first supersensible thing in ourselves. We do not yet come out of earthly life, but we learn to recognize that which is supersensible in us within earthly life.

If we now want to progress, we must continue our exercises. These exercises consist of many, many details. I have described it in the books and will only state the principles here. The first thing in these exercises was to strengthen the power of thought, to come to develop imaginative thinking, a thinking that is as alive as otherwise only the experience of sensory perception. The second thing that must be trained can be characterized as follows: the person who, in full consciousness, develops such imaginations through which he then gets to know the ether world, the formative forces, also comes to understand that these imaginations, these images – for as images one's own life to date appears in a large tableau, the outer world appears in a universal tableau -, that these images, despite being evoked quite arbitrarily, hold one more strongly than the ordinary, pale, shadowy thoughts. Most people know that these pale, shadowy thoughts unfortunately all too quickly fade into obscurity — especially before an exam, it is usually the case. But if you have just applied a strong force in your thoughts, then the thoughts hold you, they do not want to let go. You must now, in order to get ahead, not remain at this level. With the same arbitrariness with which one has called these images, these imaginations into the soul, with the same strength and arbitrariness one must also be able to remove them again, to send them out of the soul, so that one can have in the soul what I would now like to call: emptiness of consciousness.

Just realize what this emptiness of consciousness looks like in ordinary life. When empty consciousness occurs in ordinary life, there is usually no consciousness left, you fall asleep. The ordinary consciousness falls asleep when it becomes empty of sensory impressions, memories and so on. But that is precisely the difference between this ordinary consciousness and what one has already attained in imaginative knowledge: one learns to muffle, to muffle these imaginations completely, and yet one is now facing the world in an absolutely alert state. I would like to say: it is all expectation. One is awake, but has nothing in one's consciousness because one has extinguished the imaginations with the great strength that was necessary. One waits, alert, for what will now arise. And when one has created an empty consciousness by first having to extinguish an intensified power of thinking, then this empty consciousness does not wait in vain. Then the supersensible world penetrates into this 'empty consciousness', penetrates in exactly the same way as the sensory world penetrates through our eyes and ears, through our warmth organism and so on. We discover that a supersensible world surrounds us, and this penetrates into the empty but alert consciousness as the spiritual world, just as we previously had the sensory world around us. In doing so, the original consciousness of everyday life, that is, common sense, always remains present alongside this heightened consciousness, because we carry out all of this with absolute awareness. This is in contrast to the state when someone hallucinates and has visions, because in doing so, their entire consciousness is absorbed in individual visions. This is not the case with the consciousness I am talking about. The everyday consciousness, through which we are firmly rooted in life, in ordinary science, remains with us at every step, constantly present as a controller. Those who say that what is described as anthroposophical consciousness could also be based on visions or hallucinations do not know what it is about. They speak without inquiring what it is about.

But if a supersensible world now penetrates through the empty consciousness from our environment, then we are also able to perceive more about ourselves than just the tableau-like etheric body described above. Now we are able to look beyond birth and conception. By being able to erase what the whole formative forces body is, we see through the empty consciousness nothing more of the whole human being between the birth and the present moment of experience. For when we have learned to expunge the imaginations and to have empty consciousness, then we can also expunge everything that fills us as an etheric body and look back at ourselves with empty consciousness. The ordinary human being remains for the onlooker, who can observe him. But this elevated consciousness now penetrates into the world in which we were before we descended from the spiritual and soul world and accepted an earthly body from our parents and great-grandparents. Now we look into the world in which we, before we were clothed with a physical body, were united with those spiritual substances that are in the spiritual world. Now we learn to recognize how we were before we descended into physical life. Now we learn to recognize another thing supernaturally.

First, by looking at ourselves as physical beings on earth, we have our spatial body, the physical body; we have the second body, which we grasp through imaginative knowledge, which is a supersensible one, but does not lead beyond earthly life; but now we have the third body. Because it leads into the world of stars, it is called - it is only a terminology - the astral body. One gets to know the actual soul being of the human being. One gets to know this third, the second supersensible entity of the human being. But we also have this in our body in earthly life. It is veiled in the physical body. It was present before our birth or our conception. Through observation, one then comes to an understanding of one side of the human being's eternity. We have lost so much of this one side of the human being's eternity that modern languages hardly have a word for it anymore. We speak of immortality, of that which we have through the traditions, but which were only the traditions of the last millennia, we speak of the extension beyond death. That one can also speak of an extension beyond birth would necessitate that we also know about the other side of eternity and coin the word unbornness, for this unbornness is the other side of eternity.

Now, in this way we have ascended to such insights, which now cannot enter our soul condition otherwise than by getting to know something that is completely closed to our ordinary consciousness. I have already described to you how empty consciousness must enter and how the contents of the supersensible world must come into this empty consciousness from the spiritual world, just as the sensory world otherwise penetrates into the eyes and ears. This second step of supersensible knowledge I call inspiration: inspired knowledge. Through inspired knowledge we now come directly into the supersensible world. Above all, we learn to recognize ourselves as supersensible beings in our prenatal existence. We also learn to recognize the spiritual environment. And now something very significant occurs. I would like to sketch it out for you today, and it will be explained in more detail in the next few days. Take the relationship between our environment and our own inner world. We can describe it by saying that for ordinary consciousness, the material world is out there. If we now look at the human being objectively, we can say that when a person looks into this material world through their eyes and perceives other things through their ears, material things and facts are out there, and inside the soul are its ideational, feeling and willing contents. By perceiving the material, he carries this outer material world in his soul's inner being pictorially, as an image, soulfully fine, soulfully thin. In the moment when we learn to grasp the spiritual world around us in our empty consciousness, something new also arises for our inner being.

Suppose I now see this material world as permeated by the spiritual world for the inspired consciousness. Now it is not pictorially occurring in the inner being of man, what is seen out there as spiritual, but now one learns to recognize the spiritual outside, as it is reflected in the inner being of man, and there it is reflected as his physical organs, as lungs, liver, heart, kidneys and so on, as all that which is materially in the first instance in the inner being. There is a complete reversal, a reciprocity. While the material world is reflected in us in a spiritual-soul way for ordinary consciousness, the spiritual world is reflected in us through our organs. We get to know ourselves inwardly as physical human beings by becoming aware of the spiritual world around us. Before that, one does not understand the physical human being. Before that, through anatomy, we get to know the heart, lungs and liver externally, but not how they are connected to the external world. Through anatomy and physiology, we get to know the heart, lungs and liver as if we were to learn that a person has all kinds of mental images inside them, but is unaware that their inner images relate to the outside world. They do not know that these organs relate to the spiritual external world. This is the origin of what becomes possible, for example, as the effect of spiritual science in a rational medicine. Because only now do you really get to know the human being, you get to know the inner nature of his organism. There is no way to get to know it before. You can only recognize it externally.

This is the second step on the path to supersensible knowledge and research, and it is the step of inspiration. A third step is reached by appealing to the will. One can also develop this will, in particular by first becoming quite clear about what this will is all about in ordinary life. It has already been mentioned, also from other sides in these days, that man is actually a continually sleeping being in relation to his will nature. If I just raise my arm, I first have the mental image of the goal that I want to raise my arm. But what then happens, as I plunge this thought of the goal into the human being and bring about the arm movement through the will, that initially eludes the human capacity for knowledge. I become aware again, and again through the perception, the raised arm, but the will remains as unconscious to ordinary consciousness as the states that we live through while asleep remain unconscious to the sleeper himself. We are actually awake in ordinary consciousness only for our imaginative life; we are asleep in ordinary consciousness for our will life. But we can raise this life of the will into the waking state. The exercises for this are very different from the exercises that are initially thinking exercises, as I have described them. And the best way to show this difference is to make it clear to you by means of a characteristic feature.

Those who want to achieve something through such exercises, for example in observing the etheric body, must indeed undergo preparation. The preparatory exercises are described in the books mentioned. These concern, for example, the preparation for a quality that I would like to call presence of mind. Presence of mind in ordinary life consists of being able to make quick decisions in the face of a situation. But this must become a habitual quality for someone who wants to ascend into the spiritual worlds. Because what can be perceived there is not so easy to perceive. In fact, very diligent practitioners, if I may call them that, believe: I cannot perceive anything. They cannot do it because they are not sufficiently prepared for presence of mind, for the things flit by so quickly that one must grasp them quickly. Most people have such poor soul abilities that when they should turn their attention to what they should experience spiritually, it is already gone. It is therefore a matter of presence of mind.

Exactly the opposite quality must be developed for will exercises. There it is important to apply the perfect will in the most elementary way in ordinary life, when walking, grasping, moving, in fact when doing anything, when performing actions, deeds. As long as one only develops the will inwardly in life, there is actually only a wish, not a will. A real will is always connected with an organic process, I could also say with a combustion process. The truly complete will actually changes the organism. It is linked to the organism in the metabolic process. But what about our ordinary will? We are not able to see through it at all. The impulses of the will take place, we look into our inner being, we are spiritually opaque to these impulses of the will. We look into a darkness in relation to the will. But we can lighten this darkness. We can make ourselves spiritually transparent. But this requires a lot of patience, because now we have to extend our exercises over long periods of time. I will tell you a simple exercise, the more complicated ones can also be found in the books mentioned. So let's take a simple exercise: for example, I have a habit, I write in a certain way, I have a handwriting. Once you've become an old guy, you don't like to get used to a different handwriting. It takes effort, it takes inner effort. It is something that remains within you, although it is expressed on the outside by writing. But all the volitional processes involved in changing one's handwriting take place within. Apart from the fact that I would not advise doing this particular exercise too much, even for external reasons – I just want to illustrate something with it, not give instructions on how to forge handwriting. But if one could train one's will to such an extent that one could change something that is so interwoven with a person as handwriting or other habits, in short, if one could make oneself a completely different person through inner awareness, through the cultivation of the will, one could make the will transparent. It takes years to achieve this. In particular, it is good to take the trouble to incorporate certain qualities that one initially only perceives as beautiful but does not have, by resolving, for example: “You will spend the next eight years training yourself with all your might to acquire certain qualities that you do not have, certain special ways of expressing yourself.” What I am describing seems easy, but one would like to say with Faust: “Yet the easy is difficult”. And the one who does such exercises will see that it is difficult to turn the will in this way through strong self-discipline in a different direction. In short, what otherwise only comes to life in moments when the will becomes full by expressing its existence outwardly in action, when applied to the development of the will itself, leads us to really look within ourselves through such exercises, you can find more details about these exercises in the books, to make ourselves completely transparent in relation to the will. By way of comparison, I would like to try to make clear to you what is achieved by this. How do we actually see through our eyes? Only because the eye is selfless, because it does not assert its own substantiality. It is transparent. The moment the eye partially gives up this selflessness, asserts itself, it can no longer serve us to see. It must extinguish itself.

Now I am not going to claim that for ordinary life our physical body is sick and needs to be made healthy through exercises. It is not like that. For life and for ordinary science, our body is naturally healthy, but it is useless for supersensible perception. For that, it must be transformed. Not that it remains constantly transformed. The person with the ordinary, healthy human understanding always remains alongside. It is also not a matter of one person dissolving into the other, of the ordinary, healthy human being disappearing. Both the developed personality and the original personality with the healthy human understanding remain alongside one another, so that the latter acts as a controller for the former. But for the higher consciousness, which must already be empty, we come to the point where our body is no longer there for the soul to perceive. We see, as it were, through our body. We see how the will works in us.

In ordinary science, one does not see how the will works. Therefore, one assumes that there are motor nerves. They do not know that the will works directly. It has been said today that the real discovery of the facts that exist here can only be made when one has come to make oneself transparent like a sense organ, so that the whole human being becomes like a single sense organ, permeable in soul and spirit, as the eye is transparent to light. Just as we first become free through intensified thinking and first reach the body of formative forces and then the prenatal astral body, so now, having trained the will in this way, we come to know the other side of our eternal being. By making our physical body transparent, we are able to summon the image – I say expressly: the image – of what happens to us at the moment of death. At that moment we leave our physical body, which is handed over to the physical elements. The soul and spirit pass over into the spiritual world. This moment, when we pass through the gate of death into the spiritual world, we perceive it at the moment when our physical body becomes transparent to the soul. In intuitive knowledge, this third stage of supersensible knowledge, our body becomes transparent. Therefore, we get to know ourselves in the state in which we are after death, when we no longer have the physical body. For we can now see beyond it by having risen to it in the third, intuitive stage of knowledge, by disregarding the physical body. Now we get to know the other side of the soul's eternity. We get to know immortality through direct contemplation.

Anthroposophy is not a form of philosophical speculation. In order to get to know immortality, it does not start from the usual consciousness, but it assumes that the abilities slumbering in the soul, the slumber of which one becomes aware through intellectual modesty, can be awakened and thus rise to see the spiritual world. One learns to recognize the universe spiritually. You get to know your own eternal being spiritually. And when you get to know these two sides in yourself, you learn to recognize what a person is like between birth and death, when the soul is hidden under the bodily processes. on the other hand, recognize the spiritual and soul life that we unfold when we are outside the body before birth or after death, then insights into our true self also arise. And then we learn to recognize that which goes through repeated earthly lives. However, I will have to talk about this important result of anthroposophical research, about repeated earthly lives, tomorrow.

As you can see, the path of supersensible knowledge, the anthroposophical path of research, involves first entering the world of formative forces through imaginative knowledge, so that we recognize the supersensible that is already in us in ordinary physical life, but in a supersensible way: the body of formative forces. Then, through the ascent to inspired knowledge, we get to know the astral body, that is, the soul body; we get to know entering into the body and, in turn, emerging from the body through death; then we also get to know the human ego. One now enters into a concrete spiritual world, into a world of spiritual beings. For that which one recognizes as a spiritual world, for which the organs are developed, with the empty consciousness, but which is still awake, is a world in which spiritual entities are next to our own spiritual entity, next to our own spiritual-soul being. One looks into a spiritual world in this way. And now one realizes: If one wants to explore this spiritual world, one must develop these three degrees of supersensible knowledge, must draw from the soul imaginative, inspired and intuitive knowledge. They reveal themselves, they structure themselves in degrees, when one wants to know the Cosmos in its spiritual content in itself as spiritual entity.

One has already received a hint of an impression when one searches through the moral world in its actual essence. There one comes, basically, to be in the same world, even if only for the moral impulses, as one otherwise is when one has the imaginative, the inspired, the intuitive world before oneself. Only it is so present for the moral that only the moral impulses are in it. But these can be found when one has passed through imagination and inspiration to intuition. But it is given to us human beings on earth that this world alone, the world of the moral, which we need for life on earth, can be present to our ordinary consciousness in its supersensible nature before the mind's eye. And anyone who understands the real existence of the supersensible nature of the moral can, if they only develop what they learn here in an elementary way as cosmology and anthropology, advance to a real spiritual insight into the world, so that the spiritual formations, then the spiritual inner life of other spiritual beings and then the interweaving with the spiritual world, as we are interwoven here with the other realms, and that his own eternal soul essence also really comes before the soul's eye. This is what one can get to know by studying the “Philosophy of Freedom” not just in theory but by really experiencing it. It is the same as reading the axioms of Euclid on the first page of a geometry book and getting an idea of what is to come. Just as the whole of geometry follows from these axioms, so the whole spiritual world is present, as it were, in the nature of things, in the real insight into the moral world. But no one should think that he knows the nature of the spiritual world just because he knows the nature of moral impulses. He only knows the axiomatic, the elementary.

What is described here as a method of research for the supersensible worlds is indeed something that alienates most people today. But the one who is at home in these matters says to himself: How much of our present-day spiritual life began as something alienating and then became a matter of course. One need only really know the spiritual history of humanity and one will be able to say: Today, most people see what must be said as something absurd, ridiculous, as something funny. Later, a time will come when it will be taken for granted, just as the Copernican system was first taken as a curiosity, then became a matter of course. But people will feel – and feelings are precisely the most important thing that should arise from the life of the anthroposophical worldview – that this anthroposophy truly does not want to oppose what justified natural science or other science is in the present day. For what does it want to be at bottom? This question should emerge from what I have discussed today about the research methods of this anthroposophy: What does it want to be, this anthroposophy, also in relation to the other sciences, as in relation to universal human life? What does it want to be?

Now, when we have a person in front of us, we see their outer facial features, their physique, their gait, their movements, their gestures. We cannot be satisfied with simply stating: This is how he walks, this is how he looks, and so on. We see this as an external physiognomy, but we only have a complete experience of this person when we add to this external experience his soul and spirit, his soul, when we see the soul through the outer form and outer movements. But if we understand things aright, we also have in external science what is described to us by the external physiognomy of nature and of the human being. Just as one does not deny that man must also be observed in his external form through the senses if one wants to experience his soul, so one does not deny that through external science the external physiognomy of nature and of the human being must be explained, described, and grasped by means of external science, if one asserts that behind all this there is something that can be regarded as the soul of nature, the soul of the cosmos.

And so it is that just as a reasonable person who recognizes the soul of man does not negate his body, his outer form, his physiognomy, the reasonable anthroposophist does not negate the outer science. On the contrary. He wants to be fully immersed in it. He only wants the outer science to have a soul for the further development of humanity, just as the complete human being carries the soul in his physical body. Yes, he maintains that it needs soul. And anthroposophy does not want to be an opponent of the spirit of today's science, but wants to become the soul of this scientific endeavor in the future.