The Rudolf Steiner Archive

I recently tried to give you a schematic idea of four-dimensional space. But it would be very difficult if we were not able to form a picture of four-dimensional space in some kind of analogy. If it were a matter of characterizing our task, then it would be this: to show a four-dimensional structure here in three-dimensional space. Initially, we only have three-dimensional space at our disposal. If we want to link something unknown to us with something known, then, just as we have mapped a three-dimensional object into two dimensions, we have to bring a four-dimensional object into the third dimension. Now I would like to show, in the most popular way possible, using Mr. Hinton's method, how four-dimensional space can be mapped within three dimensions. So I would like to show how this task can be solved.

First, let me assume how to bring three-dimensional space into two-dimensional space. Our blackboard here is a two-dimensional space. If we were to add depth to height and width, we would have three-dimensional space. Now let's try to visualize a three-dimensional object on the blackboard.

A cube is a three-dimensional object because it has height, width and depth. Let's try to bring it into two-dimensional space, or onto a plane. If you take the whole cube and roll it up, or rather unroll it, you can do it like this. The sides, the six squares that we have in three-dimensional space, can be spread out once in a plane (Figure 25). So I could imagine the boundary surfaces of the cube spread out on a plane in a cross shape.

There are six squares that can be rearranged to form a cube again if I fold them back, so that squares 1 and 3, 2 and 4, and 5 and 6 are opposite each other. Thus we have a three-dimensional structure simply laid in the plane.

This is not a method that we can use directly to draw the fourth dimension in three-dimensional space. For that, we have to look for a different analogy. We have to use colors to help us. To do that, I will label the six squares along their sides with different colors. The squares facing each other [in the cube] should have the same colors when they are unfolded. I will draw the squares 1 and 3 so that one side is red [dotted lines] and the other is blue [solid lines]. Now I will complete these squares so that I keep blue for the whole horizontal direction (Figure 26). So I will draw all the vertical sides of these squares in red and all the horizontal sides in blue.

If you look at these two squares, 1 and 3, you have the two dimensions that the squares have, expressed in two colors, red and blue. So here for us [at the vertical blackboard, where square 2 is “stuck” to the blackboard], red would mean height and blue depth.

Let us now keep in mind that we apply red wherever height occurs and blue wherever depth occurs; and then we want to take green [dashed line] for the third dimension, width. Now we want to complete the unfolded cube in this way. The square 5 has sides that are blue and green, so the square 6 must look the same. Now only the squares 2 and 4 remain, and if you imagine them unfolded, it follows that the sides will be red and green.

Now, if you imagine it, you will see that we have transformed the three dimensions into three colors. We now say red [dotted], green [dashed], and blue [(solid line)] for height, width, and depth. We name the three colors that are to be images for us instead of the three spatial dimensions. If you imagine the whole cube opened up, you can explain the third dimension in two dimensions in such a way as if, for example, you had let the blue-red square [from left to right in Figure 26] march through green. We want to say that red and blue passed through green. We will describe the marching through green, the disappearance into the third color dimension, as the passage through the third dimension. So, if you imagine that the green fog colors the red-blue square, both sides – red and blue – will appear colored. Blue will take on a blue-green hue and red a cloudy shade, and only where the green stops will both appear in their own color again. I could do the same with squares 2 and 4. So I let the red-green square move through a space that is blue, and then you can do the same with the other two squares, 5 and 6, where the blue-green square would have to pass through the red. In this way, you let each square disappear on one side, submerging it in a different color. It takes on a different color itself through this third color, until it emerges on the other side in its original state.

We thus have an allegorical representation of our cube using three perpendicular colors. We have simply used three colors to represent the three directions we are dealing with here. If we want to imagine the changes that the three pairs of squares have undergone, we can do so by imagining that the squares pass through green the first time, red the second time, and blue the third time.

Now imagine squares instead of these [colored] lines, and squares everywhere for the bare space. Then I can draw the whole figure differently (Figure 27). We draw the transit square blue, and the two that pass through it – before and after the transit – we draw them above and below, here in red-green. [In a second step] I take the red square as the one that allows the blue-green squares to pass through it. And [in a third step] we have the green square here. The two corresponding other colors, red and blue, pass through the green square.

You see, now I have shown you another form of propagation with nine adjacent squares, but only six of which are on the cube itself, namely the squares drawn at the top and bottom of the figure (Figure 27). The other three [middle] squares are transition squares that denote nothing more than the disappearance of the individual colors into a third [color]. [For the transition movement, we] therefore always have to take two dimensions together, because each of these squares [in the upper and lower rows] is composed of two colors and disappears into the color that it does not contain itself. To make these squares reappear on the other side, we let them disappear into the third color. Red and blue disappear into green, red and green have no blue, so they disappear into blue [and green and blue disappear into red].

So, you see, we have the option here of assembling our cube using squares from two color dimensions that pass through the third color dimension.

Now it stands to reason that we imagine cubes instead of squares, and in doing so we put the cubes together out of three color dimensions – just as we put the square together out of two lines of different colors – so that we have three colors, according to the three dimensions of space. If we now want to do the same as we did with the square, we have to add a fourth color. This will allow us to make the cube disappear as well, of course only through a color that it does not have itself. Instead of the three pass squares, we now have four pass cubes in four colors: blue, white, green, and red. So instead of the pass square, we have the pass cube. Mr. Schouten has now produced these colored cubes in his models.

Now, just as we have a square pass through another that is not its color, we must now let a cube pass through another that is not its color. So we let the white-red-green cube pass through a blue one. It will submerge into the fourth color on one side and reappear in its [original] colors on the other side (Figure 28.1).

So here we have a [color] dimension bounded by two cubes that have three colored faces. In the same way, we now have to let the green-blue-red cube pass through the white cube (Figure 28.2), and then let the blue-white-red cube pass through the green (Figure 28.3). In the last figure (Figure 28.4), we have a blue-green-white cube that has to pass through a red dimension, that is, it has to disappear into a color that it does not itself have, in order to reappear on the other side in its very own colors.

These four cubes behave exactly like our three squares did before. If you now realize that we need six squares to bound a cube, we need eight cubes to bound a four-dimensional object, the tessaract.

The purpose of this substitution of dimensions with colors is that, as long as we stick with the [three] dimensions, we cannot bring the three dimensions into the [two-dimensional] plane. But if we use three colors instead, we can do it. We do the same with four dimensions if we want to visualize them using [four] colors in three-dimensional space. This is one way in which I would like to introduce you to these otherwise complicated things, and how Hinton used them in his problem [of the three-dimensional representation of four-dimensional structures].

I would now like to spread out the cube in the plane again, to turn it over into the plane once more. I will draw this on the board. First, disregard the bottom square [of Figure 25] and imagine that you can only see two-dimensionally, so you can only see what is spread out on the surface of the board. If we put five squares together as in this case, so that they are arranged in such a way that the one square comes into the middle, this inner area remains invisible (Figure 29). You can go around it from all sides. You cannot see square 5 because you can only see in two dimensions.

Now let us do the same thing that we have done here with five of the six side squares of the cube with seven of the eight boundary cubes that form the tessaract when we spread our four-dimensional structure into space. I will lay out the seven cubes in the same way as I did with the faces of the cube on the board; only now we have cubes where we previously had squares. Now we have here the corresponding spatial figure, formed entirely analogously. Thus we have the same for three-dimensional space as we previously had for two-dimensional surface. Just as a square is completely hidden from all sides, so is the seventh cube, which a being that has [only] the ability to see three-dimensionally will never be able to see (Figure 30). If we could fold up these figures in the same way as the six unfolded squares of the cube, we could pass from the third into the fourth dimension. We have shown how one can form an idea of this by means of color transitions."

With this, we have at least shown how, despite the fact that humans can only perceive three dimensions, we can still imagine four-dimensional space. Now you might still wonder how one can gain a possible conception of the real four-dimensional space. And here I would like to point you to something that is called the actual “alchemical secret.” For the real insight into four-dimensional space is in some way connected with what the alchemists called “transformation”.

[First variant:] He who wishes to acquire a true intuitive grasp of four-dimensional space must perform very definite exercises in intuitive grasp. These consist in his first forming a very clear intuitive perception, a deepened intuitive perception, not an imagination, of what is called water. Such an intuitive perception of water is not so easy to come by. One must meditate for a long time and delve very deeply into the nature of water; one must, so to speak, creep into the nature of water. The second thing is to gain an insight into the nature of light. Man is familiar with light, but only in the sense that he receives it from outside. Now, through meditation, man comes to receive the inner counter-image of outer light, to know where and from what light arises, so that he can himself bring forth and generate something like light. The yogi acquires this ability to produce and generate light through meditation. This is possible for the person who is able to have pure concepts truly meditatively present in his soul, who truly allows pure concepts to have a meditative effect on his soul, who is able to think free of sensuality. Then the light arises from the concept. Then the whole environment opens up to him as flooding light. The secret disciple must now, as it were, chemically combine the conception he has formed of water with the conception of light. The water, completely permeated by light, is a body called by the alchemists Mercury. Water plus light is called Mercury in the language of the alchemists. But this alchemical Mercury is not ordinary mercury. You will not have received the matter in this form. One must first awaken within oneself the ability to generate the light from the [dealing with the pure] concepts. Mercury is this mixture [of light] with the contemplation of water, this light-imbued water power, in whose possession one then puts oneself. That is one element of the astral world.

The second [element] arises from the fact that, just as one has formed an idea of water, one forms an idea of air, that we therefore suck out the power of the air through a mental process. If you concentrate your feeling in a certain way, you create a fire through feeling. If you combine the power of the air chemically with the fire created by feeling, you get “fire air.” You know that Goethe's Faust speaks of fire air.” This is something in which the inner being of the person must participate. So one element is sucked out of a given element, the air, and the other [fire or warmth] is generated by yourself. This air plus fire was called sulfur, sulphur, luminous fire-air by the alchemists.

If you now have this luminous fire air in an aqueous element, then you truly have that [astral] matter of which it says in the Bible: “And the Spirit of God hovered, or brooded, over the ‘waters’.”

[The third element arises when] you draw the power from the earth and then connect it with the [spiritual forces in the] “sound”; then you have what is called the Spirit of God [here]. Therefore, it is also called “thunder”. [The acting] Spirit of God is thunder, is earth plus sound. The Spirit of God [thus hovers over the] astral matter.

Those “waters” are not ordinary water, but what is actually called astral matter. This consists of four types of forces: water, air, light and fire. The arrangement of these four forces presents itself to the astral view as the four dimensions of astral space. That is how they are in reality. It looks quite different in the astral than in our world, some things that are perceived as astral are only a projection of the astral into physical space.

You see, that which is astral is half subjective [that is, passively given to the subject], half water and air, because light and feeling [fire] are objective, [that is, actively brought to appearance by the subject]. Only part of what is astral can be found outside [given to the subject] and obtained from the environment. The other part must be brought about subjectively [through one's own activity]. Through conceptual and emotional powers, one gains the other [from the given] through [active] objectification. In the astral, we thus have subjective-objective elements.

In devachan, there is no longer any objectivity [that is merely given to the subject]. One would have a completely subjective element there.

When we speak of the astral realm, we have something that the human being must first create [out of himself]. So everything we do here is symbolic, an allegorical representation of the higher worlds, of the devachanic world, which are real in the way I have explained to you in these suggestions. What lies in these higher worlds can only be attained by developing new possibilities of perception within oneself. Man must do something himself for this.

[Second text variant (Vegelahn):] Those who want to acquire a real view of four-dimensional space must do very specific visual exercises. First of all, they form a very clear, in-depth view of water. Such a view is not easy to come by; one has to delve very deeply into the nature of water; one has to, so to speak, get into the water. The second thing is to gain an insight into the nature of light. Light is something that man knows, but only in the sense that he receives it from outside. Through meditation, he can gain an inner image of light, know where light comes from and therefore produce light himself. This can be done by someone who allows pure concepts to have a real meditative effect on his soul, who has a thinking free of sensuality. Then the whole of his environment will reveal itself to him as flooding light, and now he must, as it were chemically, combine the idea he has formed of water with that of light. This water, completely permeated by light, is a body that was called “Mercury” by the alchemists. But the alchemical Mercury is not the ordinary mercury. First you have to awaken within yourself the ability to generate Merkurius from the concept of light. Merkurius, light-imbued water power, is what you then place yourself in possession of. That is the one element of the astral world.

The second is created by you also forming a vivid mental image of air, then sucking out the power of the air through a spiritual process, connecting it with feeling, and you ignite the concept of “warmth”, “fire”, then you get “fire air”. So one element is sucked out, the other is produced by yourself. This - air and fire - the alchemists called “sulfur”, sulfur, luminous fire air. In the aqueous element, there you have in truth that matter of which it is said: “and the Spirit of God hovered over the waters”.

The third element is “spirit-God”, which is connected to “earth” and “sound”. This is what happens when you extract the earth's forces and combine them with sound. These “waters” are not ordinary water, but what is actually called astral matter. This consists of four types of forces: water, air, light and fire. And this manifests itself as the four dimensions of astral space.

You see, that which is astral is half subjective; only part of what is astral can be gained from the environment; from conceptual and emotional powers, one gains the other through objectification. In devachan, you would have a completely subjective element; there is no objectivity there. So everything we do here, the symbolic, is an allegorical representation of the devachanic world. Everything that lies in the higher worlds can only be attained by developing new views within yourself. Man must do something about it himself.

Last time, we tried to get an idea of a four-dimensional space. To visualize it, we reduced it to a three-dimensional one. First, we started by transforming a three-dimensional space into a two-dimensional one. We used colors instead of dimensions. We formed the idea in such a way that a cube appeared in three colors along the three dimensions. Then we laid the boundaries of a cube on the plane, which resulted in six squares in different colors. Through the diversity of colors on the individual sides, we obtained the three different dimensions in two-dimensional space. We had three colors, and with that we had represented the three dimensions.

We then imagined that we were passing a square cube into the third dimension, as if we were passing it through a colored fog and it reappeared on the other side. We imagined that we had pass squares, so that the square cubes move through these squares and are thereby tinged [with the color of the pass square]. This is how we tried to imagine the [three-dimensional] cube [by means of a two-dimensional color representation]. [For the one-dimensional representation of the] surfaces, we thus have two boundary colors and [for the two-dimensional representation of the] cube, three colors. [To represent a four-dimensional spatial structure in three-dimensional space, we must] then add a fourth boundary color.

Now we have to imagine in the same way that a cube, which, analogous to our square, has two different colors as boundary sides, has three different colors in its boundary surfaces. And finally, each cube moves through another cube that has the corresponding fourth color. In doing so, we let it disappear into the fourth color dimension. So, according to Hinton's analogy, we let the respective boundary cubes pass through the new [fourth] color, which then reappears on the other side, emerging in their [original] own color.

Now I will give you another analogy and first reduce the three dimensions back to two, so that we will then be able to reduce four dimensions to three. To do this, we have to imagine the following. The cube can be put together at its boundary surfaces from its six boundary squares; but instead of doing it in succession, as we did recently, it will now be done in a different way. I will also draw this figure (Figure 31). You see, we have now spread out the cube in two systems, each of which lies in the plane and consists of three squares. Now we have to be clear about how these different areas will lie when we actually put the cube together. I ask you to consider the following. If I now want to reassemble the cube from these six squares, I have to place the two sections on top of each other so that square 6 comes to rest on square 5. When square 5 is placed at the bottom, I have to fold up squares 1 and 2, while folding down squares 3 and 4 (Figure 32). In doing so, we get certain corresponding lines that overlap. The lines marked in the figure with the same color [here in the same line quality and in the same number of lines] will coincide. What lies here in the plane, in two-dimensional space, coincides to a certain extent when I move into three-dimensional space.

The square consists of four sides, the cube of six squares, and the four-dimensional area would then have to consist of eight cubes.? We call this four-dimensional area a tessaract [after Hinton]. Now, the point is that these eight cubes cannot simply be reassembled into a cube, but that one of them should always pass through the fourth dimension in the appropriate way.

If I now want to do the same with the tessaract as I just did with the cube, I have to follow the same law. The point is to find analogies of the three-dimensional to the two-dimensional and then of the four-dimensional to the three-dimensional. Just as I obtained two systems of [three squares each] here, the same thing happens with the tessaract with [two systems of four cubes each] when I fold a four-dimensional tessaract into three-dimensional space. The system of eight cubes is very ingeniously devised. This structure will then look like this (Figure 33).

Each time, these four cubes in three-dimensional space are to be taken exactly as these squares in two-dimensional space.

You just have to look carefully at what I have done here. When the cube was folded into two-dimensional space, a system of six squares resulted; when the corresponding procedure is carried out on the tessaract, we obtain a system of eight cubes (Figure 34). We have transferred the observation from three-dimensional space to four-dimensional space. [Folding up and joining the squares in three-dimensional space corresponds to folding up and joining the cubes in four-dimensional space.] In the case of the folded-down cube, [in the two-dimensional plane] different corresponding lines were obtained, which coincided when it was folded up again later. The same occurs with the surfaces of our individual cubes of the tessaract. [When the tessaract is folded down in three-dimensional space, corresponding surfaces appear on the corresponding cubes.] So, for example, in the case of the tessaract, the upper horizontal surface of

cube 1—by observing [mediation] the fourth dimension—with the front face of cube 5.

In the same way, the right face of cube 1 coincides with the front square of cube 4, and likewise the left square of cube 1 with the front square of cube 3 [as well as the lower square of cube 1 with the front square of cube 6]. The same applies to the other cube surfaces. The remaining cube, 7, is enclosed by the other six.

You see that here again we are concerned with finding analogies between the third and fourth dimensions. Just as a fifth square enclosed by four squares remains invisible to the being that can only see in two dimensions, as we saw in the corresponding figure of the previous lecture (Figure 29), so it is the case here with the seventh cube: it remains hidden from the three-dimensional eye. Corresponding to this seventh cube in the tessaract is an eighth cube, which, since we have a four-dimensional body here, lies as a counterpart to the seventh in the fourth dimension.

All analogies lead us to prepare for the fourth dimension. Nothing forces us to add the other dimensions to the usual dimensions [within the mere spatial view]. Following Hinton, we could also think of colors here and think of cubes put together in such a way that the corresponding colors come together. It is hardly possible in any other way [than by such analogies] to give a description of how to think of a four-dimensional entity.

Now I would like to mention another way [of representing four-dimensional bodies in three-dimensional space], which may also give you a better understanding of what we are actually dealing with here. This is an octahedron bounded by eight triangles, with the sides meeting at obtuse angles (Figure 35).

If you visualize this structure here, I ask you to follow the following procedure with me in your mind. You see, here one surface is always intersected by another. Here, for example, in AB, two side surfaces meet, and here in EB, two meet. The entire difference between an octahedron and a cube lies in the angle of intersection of the side surfaces. If surfaces intersect as they do in a cube [at right angles], a cube is formed. But if they intersect as they do here [obtuse], then an octahedron is formed. The point is that we can have surfaces intersect at the most diverse angles, and then we get the most diverse spatial structures."

Now imagine that we could also make the same faces of the octahedron intersect in a different way. Imagine this face here, for example AEB, continued on all sides, and this lower one here, BCF, also (Figure 36). Then likewise the ADF and EDC lying backwards. Then these faces must also intersect, and in fact they intersect here in a doubly symmetrical way. If you extend these surfaces in this way, [four of the original boundary surfaces] are no longer needed: ABF, EBC and, towards the back, EAD and DCF. So of the eight surfaces, four remain. And the four that remain give this tetrahedron, which is also called half of an octahedron. It is therefore half of an octahedron because it intersects half of the faces of the octahedron. It is not the case that you cut the octahedron in half. If you bring the other four faces of the octahedron to the cut, the result is also a tetrahedron, which together with the first tetrahedron has the octahedron as a common intersection. In stereometry [geometric crystallography], it is not the part that is halved that is called the half, but the one that is created by halving the [number of] faces. With the octahedron, this is quite easy to imagine.

If you imagine halving the cube in the same way, that is, if you allow one face to intersect with the corresponding other face, you will always get a cube. Half of a cube is a cube again. I would like to draw an important conclusion from this, but first I would like to use something else to help me.

Here I have a rhombic dodecahedron (Figure 37). You can see that the surfaces adjoin each other at certain angles. At the same time, we can see a system of four wires, which I would like to call axial wires, and which run in opposite directions to each other [i.e. connect certain opposite corners of the rhombic dodecahedron, and are therefore diagonals]. These wires now represent a system of axes in a similar way to the way in which you imagined a system of axes on the cube.

You get the cube when you create sections in a system of three perpendicular axes by introducing blockages in each of these axes.

If the axes are made to intersect at other angles, a different spatial figure is obtained. The rhombic dodecahedron has axes which intersect at angles other than right angles.

The cube reflects itself in half.

But this applies only to the cube. The rhombic dodecahedron, cut in half, also gives a different spatial structure.

Now let us take the relation of the octahedron to the tetrahedron. And I will tell you what is meant by this. This becomes clear when we gradually let the octahedron merge into the tetrahedron. For this purpose, let us take a tetrahedron, which we cut off at one vertex (Figure 38). We continue this process until the cut surfaces meet at the edges of the tetrahedron; then what remains is the indicated octahedron. In this way we obtain an eight-sided figure from a three-dimensional figure bounded by four surfaces, provided we cut off the corners at corresponding angles.

What I have done here with the tetrahedron, you cannot do with the cube.

The cube has very special properties, namely that it is the counterpart of three-dimensional space. Imagine the entire universe structured in such a way that it has three perpendicular axes. If you then imagine surfaces perpendicular to these three axes, you will, under all circumstances, get a cube (Figure 39). That is why, when we speak of the cube, we mean the theoretical cube, which is the counterpart of three-dimensional space. Just as the tetrahedron is the counterpart of the octahedron when I make the sides of the octahedron into certain sections, so the single cube is the counterpart of the whole of space.” If you think of the whole of space as positive, the cube is negative. The cube is the polar opposite of the whole of space. Space has in the physical cube its actually corresponding structure.

Now suppose I would not limit the [three-dimensional] space by two-dimensional planes, but I would limit it in such a way that I would have it limited by six spheres [thus by three-dimensional figures].

I first define two-dimensional space by having four circles that go inside each other [i.e., two-dimensional shapes]. You can now imagine that these four circles are getting bigger and bigger [as the radius gets longer and longer and the center point moves further and further away]; then, over time, they will all merge into a straight line (Figure 40). You then get four intersecting lines, and instead of the four circles, a square.

Now imagine that the circles are spheres, and that there are six of them, forming a kind of mulberry (Figure 41). If you imagine the spheres in the same way as the circles, that they get larger and larger in diameter, then these six spheres will ultimately become the boundary surfaces of a cube, just as the four circles became the boundary lines of a square.

The cube has now been created from the fact that we had six spheres that have become flat. So the cube is nothing more than a special case of six interlocking spheres – just as the square is nothing more than a special case of four interlocking circles.

If you are clear in your mind about how to imagine these six spheres, that they correspond to our earlier squares when brought into the plane, and if you imagine an absolutely round shape passing into a straight one, you will get the simplest spatial form. The cube can be imagined as the flattening of six spheres pushed into each other.

You can say of a point on a circle that it must pass through the second dimension if it is to come to another point on the circle. But if you have made the circle so large that it forms a straight line, then every point on the circle can come to every other point on the circle through the first dimension.

We are considering a square bounded by figures, each of which has two dimensions. As long as each of the four boundary figures is a circle, it is therefore two-dimensional. Each boundary figure, when it has become a straight line, is one-dimensional.

Each boundary surface of a cube is formed from a three-dimensional structure in such a way that each of the six boundary spheres has one dimension removed. Such a boundary surface has therefore been created by the third dimension being reduced to two, so to speak bent back. It has therefore lost a dimension. The second dimension was created by losing the dimension of depth. One could therefore imagine that each spatial dimension was created by losing a corresponding higher dimension.

Just as we obtain a three-dimensional figure with two-dimensional boundaries when we reduce three-dimensional boundary figures to two-dimensional ones, so you must conclude that when we look at three-dimensional space, we have to think of each direction as being flattened out, and indeed flattened out from an infinite circle; so that if you could progress in one direction, you would come back from the other. Thus, each [ordinary] spatial dimension has come about through the loss of the corresponding other [dimension]. In our three-dimensional space, there is a three-axis system. These are three perpendicular axes that have lost the corresponding other dimensions and have thus become flat.

So you get three-dimensional space when you straighten each of the [three] axis directions. If you proceed in reverse, each spatial part could become curved again. Then the following series of thoughts would arise: If you curve the one-dimensional structure, you get a two-dimensional one; by curving the two-dimensional structure, you get a three-dimensional one. If you finally curve a three-dimensional structure, you get a four-dimensional structure, so that the four-dimensional can also be imagined as a three-dimensional structure curved on itself.*

And with that, I come from the dead to the living. Through this bending, you can find the transition from the dead to the living. Four-dimensional space is so specialized [at the transition into three dimensions] that it has become flat. Death is [for human consciousness] nothing more than the bending of the three-dimensional into the four-dimensional. [For the physical body taken by itself, it is the other way around: death is a flattening of the four-dimensional into the three-dimensional.]

I would like to conclude the lectures on the fourth spatial dimension today if possible, although I would like to demonstrate a complicated system in more detail today. I would have to show you many more models after Hinton; therefore, I can only refer you to the three detailed and spirited books.” Those who do not have the will to form a picture through analogies in the way we have heard it in the past lectures cannot, of course, form a picture of four-dimensional space. It involves a new way of forming thoughts.

I will try to give you a true representation [parallel projection] of the tessaract. You know that in two-dimensional space we had the square, which is bounded by four sides. This is the three-dimensional cube, which is bounded by six squares (Figure 42).

In four-dimensional space, we have the tessaract. A tessaract is bounded by eight cubes. The projection of a tessaract [in three-dimensional space] therefore consists of eight interlocking cubes. We have seen how the [corresponding eight] cubes can be intertwined in three-dimensional space. Today I will show you a [different] way of projecting the tessaract.

You can imagine that the cube, when held up to the light, throws a shadow on the blackboard. We can mark this shadow figure with chalk (Figure 43). You see that a hexagon is obtained. Now imagine this cube transparent, and you will observe that in the hexagonal figure the three front sides of the cube and the three rear sides of the cube fall into the same plane.

In order to get a projection that we can apply to the tessaract, I would ask you to imagine that the cube is standing in front of you in such a way that the front point A covers the rear point C. If you imagine the third dimension, all this would give you a hexagonal shadow again. I will draw the figure for you (Figure 44).

If you imagine the cube like this, you would see the three front surfaces here; the other surfaces would be behind them. The surfaces of the cube appear foreshortened and the angles are no longer right angles. This is how you see the cube depicted so that the surfaces form a regular hexagon. Thus, we have obtained a representation of a three-dimensional cube in two-dimensional space. Since the edges are shortened and the angles are changed by the projection, we must therefore imagine the [projection of the] six boundary squares of the cube as shifted squares, as rhombi.

The same story that I did with a three-dimensional cube that I projected into the plane, we want to do this procedure with a four-dimensional spatial object, which we therefore have to place in three-dimensional space. We must therefore bring the structure composed of eight cubes, the tessaract, into the third dimension [by parallel projection]. With the cube, we obtained three visible and three invisible edges, all of which enter into the space and in reality do not lie within the [projection] surface. Now imagine a cube shifted in such a way that it becomes a rhombicuboctahedron.” Take eight of these figures, and you have the possibility of combining the eight [boundary] cubes of the tessaract in such a way that, when pushed together, they form the eight (doubly covered) rhombicuboctahedra of this spatial figure (Figure 45).

Now you have one more axis here [than in the three-dimensional cube]. Accordingly, a four-dimensional spatial structure naturally has four axes. So if we push it together, four axes still remain. There are eight [pushed together] cubes in this projection, which are represented as rhombicuboctahedra. The rhombicuboctahedron is a [symmetrical] image or silhouette of the tessaract in three-dimensional space.

We arrived at this relationship by means of an analogy, but it is completely correct: just as we obtained a projection of the cube onto a plane, it is also possible to represent the tessaract in three-dimensional space by means of a projection. It behaves in the same way as the silhouette of the cube in relation to the cube itself. I think that is quite easy to understand.

Now I would like to tie in with the greatest image that has ever been given for this, namely Plato and Schopenhauer and the parable of the cave.

Plato says: Imagine people sitting in a cave, and they are all tied up so that they cannot turn their heads and can only look at the opposite wall. Behind them are people carrying various objects past them. These people and these objects are three-dimensional. So all these [bound] people stare at the wall and see only what is cast as a shadow [of the objects] on the wall. So they would see everything in the room only as a shadow on the opposite wall as two-dimensional images.

Plato says that this is how it is in the world in general. In truth, people are sitting in the cave. Now, people themselves and everything else are four-dimensional; but what people see of it are only images in three-dimensional space.

This is how all the things we see present themselves. According to Plato, we are dependent on seeing not the real things, but the three-dimensional silhouettes. I only see my hand as a silhouette; in reality it is four-dimensional, and everything that people see of it is just as much an image of it as what I just showed you as an image of the Tessaract. Thus Plato was already trying to make clear that the objects we know are actually four-dimensional, and that we only see silhouettes of them in three-dimensional space. And that is not entirely arbitrary. I will give you the reasons for this in a moment.

Of course, anyone can say from the outset that this is mere speculation. How can we even imagine that the things that appear on the wall have a reality? Imagine that you are sitting here in a row, and you are sitting very still. Now imagine that the things on the wall suddenly start to move. You will not be able to tell yourself that the images on the wall can move without going out of the second dimension. If something moves there, it indicates that something must have happened outside the wall, on the real object, for it to move at all. That's what you tell yourself. If you imagine that the objects in three-dimensional space can pass each other, this would not be possible with their two-dimensional silhouettes, if you think of them as substantial, that is, impenetrable. If those images, conceived substantially, wanted to move past each other, they would have to go out of the second dimension.

As long as everything on the wall is at rest, I have no reason to conclude that something is happening outside the wall, outside the space of the two-dimensional silhouettes. But the moment history begins to move, I must investigate the source of the motion. And you realize that the change can only come from motion outside the wall, only from motion within a third dimension. The change has thus told us that there is a third dimension in addition to the second.

What is a mere image also has a certain reality, possesses very definite properties, but differs essentially from the real object. You will not be able to deny that the mirror image is also a mere image. You see yourself in the mirror, and you are also there. If there is not a third [that is, an active being] there, then you could not actually know what you are. But the mirror image makes the same movements that the original makes; the image is dependent on the real object, the being; it itself has no ability [to move]. Thus, a distinction can be made between image and being in that only a being can bring about movement and change out of itself. I realize from the shadows on the wall that they cannot move themselves, so they cannot be beings. I have to go out of them if I want to get to the beings.

Now apply this to the world in general. The world is three-dimensional. Take this three-dimensional world for itself, as it is; grasp it completely in your thoughts [for yourself], and you will find that it remains rigid. It remains three-dimensional even if you suddenly think the world frozen at a certain point in time. But there is no one and the same world in two points in time. The world is completely different at successive points in time. Imagine that these points in time cease to exist, so that what is there remains. Without time, no change would occur in the world. The world would remain three-dimensional even if it underwent no change at all. The pictures on the wall also remain two-dimensional. But change suggests a third dimension. The fact that the world is constantly changing, and that it remains three-dimensional even without change, suggests that we have to look for the change in a fourth dimension. We have to look for the reason, the cause of the change, the activity outside the third dimension, and with that you have initially uncovered the fourth of the dimensions. But with that you also have the justification for Plato's image. So we understand the whole three-dimensional world as the shadow projection of a four-dimensional world. The only question is how we have to take this fourth dimension [in reality].

You see, we have the one idea to make it clear to ourselves, of course, that it is impossible for the fourth dimension to fall [directly] into the third. That is not possible. The fourth dimension cannot fall into the third. I would like to show you now how one can, so to speak, get an idea of how to go beyond the third dimension. Imagine we have a circle – I have already tried to evoke a similar idea recently – if you imagine this circle getting bigger and bigger, then a piece of this circle becomes flatter and flatter, and because the diameter of the circle becomes very large at the end, the circle finally turns into a straight line. The line has one dimension, but the circle has two dimensions. How do you get a second dimension from a single dimension? By curving a straight line, you get a circle again.

If you now imagine the surface of the circle curving into space, you first get a shell, and if you continue to do this, you get a sphere. Thus a line acquires a second dimension by curvature and a surface acquires a third dimension by curvature. If you could now curve a cube, it would have to be curved into the fourth dimension, and you would have the [spherical] tessaract.

You can understand the sphere as a curved two-dimensional spatial structure. The sphere that occurs in nature is the cell, the smallest living thing. The cell is limited spherically. That is the difference between the living and the lifeless. The mineral always occurs as a crystal bounded by flat surfaces; life is bounded by spherical surfaces, built up of cells. That means that just as a crystal is built from spheres that have been straightened out, that is, from planes, so life is built from cells, that is, from spheres that have been bent together. The difference between the living and the dead lies in the way they are defined. The octahedron is defined by eight triangles. If we imagine the eight sides as spheres, we would get an eight-limbed living thing.

If you curve the three-dimensional structure, the cube, again, you get a four-dimensional structure, the spherical tessaract. But if you curve the whole space, you get something that relates to three-dimensional space in the same way that a sphere relates to a plane.

Just as the cube, as a three-dimensional structure, is bounded by planes, so every crystal is bounded by planes. The essence of a crystal is the assembly of [flat] boundary planes. The essence of the living is the assembly of curved surfaces, of cells. The assembly of something even higher would be a structure whose individual boundaries would be four-dimensional. A three-dimensional structure is bounded by two-dimensional structures. A four-dimensional being, that is, a living being, is bounded by three-dimensional beings, by spheres and cells. A five-dimensional being is itself bounded by four-dimensional beings, by spherical tessaracts. From this you can see that we have to ascend from three-dimensional to four-dimensional, and then to five-dimensional beings.

We only have to ask ourselves: What must occur in a being that is four-dimensional?* A change must occur within the third dimension. In other words: If you hang pictures on the wall here, they are two-dimensional and generally remain static. But if you have pictures in which the second dimension moves and changes, then you must conclude that the cause of this movement can only lie outside the surface of the wall, that the third dimension of space thus indicates the change. If you find changes within the third spatial dimension itself, then you must conclude that a fourth dimension is involved, and this brings us to the beings that undergo a change within their three spatial dimensions.

It is not true that we have fully recognized a plant if we have only recognized it in its three dimensions. A plant is constantly changing, and this change is an essential, a higher characteristic of it. The cube remains; it only changes its shape when you smash it. A plant changes its shape itself, that is, there is something that is the cause of this change and that lies outside the third dimension and is an expression of the fourth dimension. What is that?

You see, if you have this cube and draw it, you would labor in vain if you wanted to draw it differently at different moments; it will always remain the same. If you draw the plant and compare the picture with your model after three weeks, it will have changed. So this analogy is completely accurate. Everything that lives points to something higher, where it has its true essence, and the expression of this higher is time. Time is the symptomatic expression, the appearance of liveliness [understood as the fourth dimension] in the three dimensions of physical space. In other words, all beings for whom time has an inner meaning are images of four-dimensional beings. This cube is still the same after three or six years. The lily bud changes. Because for it, time has a real meaning. Therefore, what we see in the lily is only the three-dimensional image of the four-dimensional lily being. So time is an image, a projection of the fourth dimension, the organic liveliness, into the three spatial dimensions of the physical world.

To understand how a following dimension relates to the preceding one, please imagine the following: a cube has three dimensions; when you visualize the third, you have to remember that it is perpendicular to the second, and the second is perpendicular to the first. The three dimensions are characterized by the fact that they are perpendicular to one another. But we can also imagine how the third dimension arises from the following [fourth dimension]. Imagine that you would change the cube by coloring the boundary surfaces and then changing these colors [in a certain way, as in Hinton's example]. Such a change can indeed be made, and it corresponds exactly to the change that a three-dimensional being undergoes when it passes into the fourth dimension, when it develops through time. If you cut a four-dimensional being at any point, you take away the fourth dimension, you destroy it. If you do that to a plant, you do exactly the same thing as if you were to make a cast of the plant, a plaster cast. You have captured that by destroying the fourth dimension, time. Then you get a three-dimensional object. If for any three-dimensional being the fourth dimension, time, has an essential significance, then it is a living being.

Now we enter the fifth dimension. You can say to yourself that you must again have a boundary that is perpendicular to the fourth dimension. We have seen that the fourth dimension is related to the third dimension in a similar way to the third dimension being related to the second. It is not immediately possible to visualize the fifth dimension in this way. But you can again create a rough idea by using an analogy. How does a dimension come into being in the first place? If you simply draw a line, you will never create another dimension by simply pushing the line in one direction. Only by imagining that you have two opposing directions of force, which then accumulate at a point, only by expressing the accumulation, do you have a new dimension. We must therefore be able to grasp the new dimension as a new line of accumulation [of two currents of force], and imagine the one dimension coming from the right one time and from the left the next, as positive and negative. So I understand a dimension [as a polar [stream of forces] within itself], so that it has a positive and a negative dimension [component], and the neutralization [of these polar force components] is the new dimension.

From there, we want to create an idea of the fifth dimension. We will have to imagine that the fourth dimension, which we have found expressed as time, behaves in a positive and negative way. Now take two beings for whom time has a meaning, and imagine two such beings colliding with each other. Then something must appear as a result, similar to what we have previously called an accumulation of [opposing] forces; and what arises as a result when two four-dimensional beings come into relation with each other is their fifth dimension. This fifth dimension arises as a result, as a consequence of an exchange [a neutralization of polar force effects], in that two living beings, through their mutual interaction, produce something that they do not have outside [in the three ordinary spatial dimensions together], nor do they have in [the fourth dimension,] time, but have completely outside these [previously discussed dimensions or] boundaries. This is what we call compassion [or feeling], by which one being knows another, thus the realization of the [spiritual and mental] inner being of another being. A being could never know anything about another being outside of time [and space] if you did not add a higher, fifth dimension, [i.e. enter the world of] sensation. Of course, here the sensation is only to be understood as a projection, as an expression [of the fifth dimension] in the physical world.

Developing the sixth dimension in the same way would be too difficult, so I will only indicate it. [If we tried to progress in this way, something could be developed as an expression of the sixth dimension that,] when placed in the three-dimensional physical world, is self-conscious.

Man, as a three-dimensional being, is one who shares his imagery with other three-dimensional beings. The plant, in addition, has the fourth dimension. For this reason, you will never find the ultimate essence of the plant within the three dimensions of space, but you would have to ascend from the plant to a fourth spatial dimension [to the astral sphere]. But if you wanted to grasp a being that has feeling, you would have to ascend to the fifth dimension [to the lower Devachan, to the Rupa sphere]; and if you wanted to grasp a being that has self-awareness, a human being, you would have to ascend to the sixth dimension [to the upper Devachan, to the Arupa sphere]. Thus, the human being as he stands before us in the present is indeed a six-dimensional being. That which is called feeling or compassion, or self-awareness, is a projection of the fifth or sixth dimension into ordinary three-dimensional space. Man extends into these spiritual spheres, albeit unconsciously for the most part; only there can he actually be experienced in the sense indicated last. This six-dimensional being can only come to an idea of even the higher worlds if it tries to get rid of the actual characteristics of the lower dimensions.

I can only hint at the reason why man considers the world to be only three-dimensional, namely because he is conditioned in his perception to see only a reflection of something higher in the world. When you look in a mirror, you also see only a reflection of yourself. Thus, the three dimensions of our physical space are indeed reflections, material copies of three higher, causally creative dimensions. Our material world therefore has its polar [spiritual] counter-image in the group of the three next higher dimensions, that is, in those of the fourth, fifth and sixth dimensions. And in a similar sense, the spiritual worlds that lie beyond this group of dimensions, which can only be sensed, are also polar to those of the fourth to sixth dimensions.

If you have water and you let the water freeze, the same substance is present in both cases; but in form they differ quite substantially. You can imagine a similar process for the three higher dimensions of man. If you think of man as a purely spiritual being, then you have to think of him as having only the three higher dimensions – self-awareness, feeling and time – and these three dimensions are reflected in the physical world in its three ordinary dimensions.

The yogi [secret student], if he wants to advance to a knowledge of the higher worlds, must gradually replace the mirror images with reality. For example, when he looks at a plant, he must get used to gradually substituting the higher dimensions for the lower ones. If he looks at a plant and is able to abstract from one spatial dimension in the case of a plant, to abstract from one spatial dimension and instead to imagine a corresponding one of the higher dimensions, in this case time, then he actually gets an idea of what a two-dimensional, moving being is. To make this being more than just an image, to make it correspond to reality, the yogi must do the following. If he disregards the third dimension and adds the fourth, he would only get something imaginary. However, the following mental image can help: when we make a cinematographic representation of a living being, we remove the third dimension from the original three-dimensional processes, but add the [dimension of] time through the sequence of images. If we then add sensation to this [moving] perception, we perform a procedure similar to what I described earlier as the bending of a three-dimensional structure into the fourth dimension. Through this process you then get a four-dimensional entity, but now one that has two of our spatial dimensions, but also two higher ones, namely time and sensation. Such beings do indeed exist, and these beings - and this brings me to a real conclusion to the whole consideration - I would like to tell you about.

Imagine two spatial dimensions, that is, a surface, and this surface endowed with motion. Now imagine a bent as a sensation, a sentient being that then pushes a two-dimensional surface in front of it. Such a being must act differently and be very different from a three-dimensional being in our space. This flat creature that we have constructed in this way is incomplete in one direction, completely open, and offers you a two-dimensional view; you cannot go around it, it comes towards you. This is a luminous creature, and the luminous creature is nothing other than the incompleteness in one direction.

Through such a being, the initiates then get to know other beings, which they describe as divine messengers approaching them in flames of fire. The description of Mount Sinai, where Moses received the Ten Commandments,® means nothing other than that a being could indeed approach him that, to his perception, had these dimensions. It appeared to him like a human being from whom the third spatial dimension had been removed; it appeared in sensation and in time.

These abstract images in the religious documents are not just external symbols, but powerful realities that man can get to know if he is able to appropriate what we have tried to make clear through analogies. The more you devote yourself diligently and energetically to such considerations of analogies, the more you really work on your mind, and the more these [considerations] work in us and trigger higher abilities. [This is roughly the case when dealing with] the analogy of the relationship of the cube to the hexagon and the tessaract to the rhombic dodecahedron. The latter represents a projection of the tessaract into the three-dimensional physical world. If you visualize these figures as living entities, if you allow the cube to grow out of the projection of the die – the hexagon – and likewise allow the tessaract itself to arise from the projection of the tessaract [the rhombic dodecahedron], then you create the possibility and the ability in your lower mental body to grasp what I have just described to you as a structure. And if, in other words, you have not only followed me but have gone through this procedure vividly, as the yogi does in an awakened state of consciousness, then you will notice that something will occur to you in your dreams that in reality is a four-dimensional entity, and then it is not much further to bring it over into the waking consciousness, and you can then see the fourth dimension in every four-dimensional being.

The astral sphere is the fourth dimension. Devachan to rupa is the fifth dimension. Devachan to arupa is the sixth dimension.

These three worlds, the physical, astral and celestial [devachan], comprise six dimensions. The even higher worlds are completely polar to these.

Mineral Plant Animal Human Arupa Self-consciousness Rupa Sensation Self-consciousness Astral plane Life Sensation Self-consciousness Physical form Life Sensation Self-plan consciousness Form Life Sensation Form Life Form

Our ordinary space has three dimensions: length, width and height. A line extends in one dimension, it has only length. A table is a surface, so it has two dimensions: length and width. A body extends in three dimensions. How does a body of three dimensions come about?

Imagine a shape that has no dimensionality at all: that is the point. It has zero dimensions. When a point moves in one direction, a straight line is created, a one-dimensional shape. If you imagine the line continuing, a surface with length and width is created. Finally, if you imagine the surface moving, it describes a three-dimensional shape. But we cannot use the same method to create a fourth dimension from a three-dimensional object [through movement]. We must try to visualize how we can arrive at the concept of a fourth dimension. [Certain] mathematicians [and natural scientists] have felt compelled to harmonize the spiritual world with our sensual world [by placing the spiritual world in a four-dimensional space], for example, Zöllner.

Imagine a circle. It is closed on all sides in the plane. If someone demands that a coin should come into the circle from outside, we have to cross the circle line (Figure 46). But if you do not want to touch the circle line, you have to lift the coin [into the space] and then put it in. You must necessarily go from the second to the third dimension. If we wanted to conjure a coin into a cube [or into a sphere], we would have to go [out of the third dimension and] through the fourth dimension.'

In this life, the first time I began to grasp what space actually is was when I started to study recent [synthetic projective] geometry. Then I realized what it means to go from a circle to a line (Figure 47). In the most intimate thinking of the soul, the world opens up.

Now let us imagine a circle. If we follow the circle line, we can walk around it and return to the original point. Now let us imagine the circle getting bigger and bigger [holding a tangent line]. In the end, it must merge into a straight line because it flattens out more and more. [When I go through the enlarging circles, I always go down on one side and then come up on the other side and back to the starting point. If I finally move on the straight line, for example to the right into infinity, I have to return from the other side of infinity, since the straight line behaves like a circle in terms of the arrangement of its points. From this we see that space has no end [in the same sense that the straight line has no end, that is, the arrangement of its points is the same as in a closed circle. Accordingly, we must think of infinitely extended space as closed in itself, just as the surface of a sphere is closed in itself]. Thus you have represented infinite space [in the sense of] a circle [or] a sphere. This concept leads us to imagine space in its reality.

If I now imagine that I do not simply disappear [into infinity] and then return [unchanged from the other side], but think to myself that I have a radiating light, this will become weaker and weaker as I move away (seen from a stationary point on the line) and stronger and stronger when I return (with the light from infinity). And if we consider that this light not only has a positive effect, but, as it approaches from the other side here, shines all the more strongly, then you have [here the qualities] positive and negative.

In all natural effects, you will find these two poles, which represent nothing other than the opposite effects of space. From this you get the idea that space is something powerful, and that the forces that work in it are nothing other than the outflow of the power itself. Then we will have no doubt that within our three-dimensional space there could be a force that works from within. You will realize that everything that occurs in space is based on real relationships in space.

If we were to intertwine two dimensions, we would have brought these two into relation. If you want to entwine two [closed] rings, you have to unravel one of them to get the other inside. But now I will demonstrate the inner diversity of space by entwining this structure [a rectangular paper band] twice around itself [that is, holding one end and twisting the other end 360° and then holding the two ends together]. I pin the paper tape together tightly with pins and cut it in half. Now one tape is firmly stuck inside the other. Before that, it was just one tape. So here, by merely intertwining the tapes within the three dimensions, I have created the same thing that I would otherwise have to reach out into the [fourth] dimension to achieve."

This is not a gimmick, but reality. If we have the sun here, and the earth's orbit around the sun here, and the moon's orbit around the earth here (Figure 48), we have to imagine that the earth moves around the sun and therefore the moon's orbit and the earth's orbit are intertwined exactly [like our two paper ribbons]. Now the moon has branched off from the earth [in the course of the earth's development]. This is an internal bifurcation that has occurred in the same way [as the intertwining of our two paper ribbons]. [Through such a way of looking at it] space comes alive in itself.

Now consider a square. Imagine it moving through space in such a way that it forms a cube. Then it must progress within itself.

A cube is composed of six squares, which together form the surface of the cube. To put the cube together [in a clear way], I first place the six squares next to each other [in a plane] (Figure 49). I get the cube again when I put these squares on top of each other. I then have to place the sixth on top by going through the third dimension. Thus I have now laid the cube out in two dimensions. I have transformed a three-dimensional structure by laying it out in two dimensions.

Now imagine that the boundaries of a cube are squares. If I have a three-dimensional cube here, it is bounded by two-dimensional squares. Let's just take a single square. It is two-dimensional and is bounded by four one-dimensional lines. I can expand the four lines into a single dimension (Figure 50). What appears in the one dimension, I will now paint in red [solid line] and the other dimension in blue [dotted line]. Now, instead of saying length and width, I can speak of the red and blue dimensions.

I can reassemble the cube from six squares. So now I go from the number four [the number of side lines of the square] to the number six [the number of the side surfaces of the cube]. If I go one step further, I get from the number six [the number of the side surfaces of the cube] to the number eight [the number of “side cubes” of a four-dimensional structure]. I now arrange the eight cubes in such a way that the corresponding structure is created in three-dimensional space to that which was previously constructed in two-dimensional space (Figure 51) from six squares.

Imagine that I could turn this structure inside out so that I could turn it right way up and put it together in such a way that I could cover the whole structure with the eighth cube. Then I would get a four-dimensional structure in a four-dimensional space from the eight cubes. This figure is called [by Hinton] the tessaract. Its limiting figure is eight cubes, just as the ordinary cube has six squares as its limiting figure. The [four-dimensional] tessaract is therefore bounded by [eight] three-dimensional cubes.

Imagine a creature that can only see in two dimensions, and this creature would now look at the squares laid out separately, it would only see the squares 1, 2, 3, 4 and 6, but never the hatched square 5 in the middle (Figure 52). It is quite the same for you with the four-dimensional structure. [Since you can only see three-dimensional objects, you] cannot see the hidden cube in the middle.

Now imagine the cube drawn on the board like this [so that the outline forms a regular hexagon]. The other side is hidden behind it. This is a kind of silhouette, a projection of the cube into two-dimensional space (Figure 53). This two-dimensional silhouette of a three-dimensional cube consists of rhombi, oblique rectangles [parallelograms]. If you imagine the cube made of wire, you would also be able to see the rhomboid squares at the back. So here you have six interlocking rhomboid squares in the projection. In this way you can project the whole cube into two-dimensional space.

Now imagine our tetrahedron formed in four-dimensional space. If you project this figure into three-dimensional space, you should get four non-intersecting rhombic parallelpipeds. One of these rhombic parallelpipeds should be drawn as follows (Figure 54).

Eight such shifted rhombic cubes would have to be inserted into each other in order to obtain a three-dimensional image of the four-dimensional tessaract in three-dimensional space. Thus, we can represent the three-dimensional shadow image of such a tessaract with the help of eight rhombic cubes that are suitably inserted into each other. The spatial structure that results is a rhombic dodecahedron with four spatial diagonals (Figure 55). Just as in the rhombus representation of the cube, three directly neighboring rhombuses are shifted into each other, so that only three of the six cube surfaces are seen in the projection, only four non-intersecting rhombic cubes appear in the rhombic dodecahedron only four non-intersecting rhombic cubes appear as projections of the eight boundary cubes, since four of the directly neighboring rhombic cubes completely cover the remaining four.'>

We can construct the three-dimensional shadow of a four-dimensional body, but not the tessaract itself. In the same sense, we are the shadows of four-dimensional beings. Thus, as man rises from the physical to the astral, he must develop his powers of visualization. Let us imagine a two-dimensional being who makes an [intense and repeated] effort to vividly imagine such a [three-dimensional] shadow image. When it then surrenders to the dream, then (...).

When you mentally build up the relationship between the third and fourth dimensions, the forces at work within you allow you to see into [real, not mathematical] four-dimensional space.

We will always be powerless in the higher world if we do not acquire the abilities [to see in the higher world] here [in the world of ordinary consciousness]. Just as a person in the womb develops eyes to see in the physical-sensual world, so must a person in the womb of the earth develop [supernatural] organs, then he will be born in the higher world [as a seer]. The development of the eyes in the womb is an [illuminating] example [of this process].

The cube would have to be constructed from the dimensions of length, width and height. The tessaract would have to be constructed from the dimensions of length, width, height and a fourth dimension.

As the plant grows, it breaks through three-dimensional space. Every being that lives in time breaks through the three [ordinary] dimensions. Time is the fourth dimension. It is invisibly contained in the three dimensions of ordinary space. However, you can only perceive it through clairvoyant power.

A moving point creates a line; when a line moves, a surface is created; and when a surface moves, a three-dimensional body is created. If we now let the three-dimensional space move, we have growth [and development]. This gives you four-dimensional space, time [projected into three-dimensional space as movement, growth, development].

[The geometric consideration of the structure of the three ordinary dimensions] can be found in real life. Time is perpendicular to the three dimensions, it is the fourth, and it grows. When you bring time to life within you, sensation arises. If you increase the time within you, move it within yourself, you have the sentient animal being, which in truth has five dimensions. The human being actually has six dimensions.

We have four dimensions in the etheric realm [astral plane], five dimensions in the astral realm [lower devachan] and six dimensions in the [upper] devachan.

Thus the [spiritual] manifoldness swells up to you. The devachan, as a shadow cast into the astral realm, gives us the astral body; the astral realm, as a shadow cast into the etheric realm, gives us the etheric body, and so on.

Time flows in one direction, which is the withering away of nature, and in the other direction it is the revival. The two points where they merge are birth and death.

The future is constantly coming towards us. If life only went in one direction, nothing new would ever come into being. Man also has genius – that is his future, his intuitions, which flow towards him. The processed past is [the stream coming from the other side; it determines] the essence [of how it has become so far].

The subject we are to discuss today will present us with a number of difficulties. Consider the lecture as an episode; it is being held at your request. If you only want to grasp the subject formally in its depth, some mathematical knowledge is necessary. But if you want to grasp it in its reality, you have to penetrate very deeply into occultism. So today we can only talk about it very superficially, only give a suggestion for this or that.

It is very difficult to talk about multidimensionality at all, because if you want to get an idea of what more than three dimensions are, you have to delve into abstract areas, and there the concepts must be very precisely and strictly defined, otherwise you end up in a bottomless pit. And that's where many friends and enemies have ended up.

The concept of multidimensional space is not as foreign to the world of mathematicians as one might think.® In mathematical circles, there is already a way of calculating with a multidimensional type of calculation. Of course, the mathematician can only speak of this space in a very limited sense; he can only discuss the possibility. Whether it really is can only be determined by someone who can see into a multidimensional space. Here we are already dealing with a lot of concepts that, if we grasp them precisely, really provide us with clarity about the concept of space.

What is space? We usually say: there is space around me, I walk around in space — and so on. If you want a clearer idea, you have to go into some abstractions. We call the space in which we move three-dimensional. It has an extension in height and depth, to the right and left, to the front and back, it has length, width and height. When we look at bodies, these bodies are extended for us in this three-dimensional space; they have a certain length, a certain width and height for us.

However, we have to deal with the details of the concept of space if we want to arrive at a more precise concept. Let us look at the simplest body, the cube. It shows us most clearly what length, width and height are. We find a base of the cube that is the same in length and width. If we move the base up, just as far as the base is wide and long, we get the cube, which is therefore a three-dimensional object. The cube is the clearest way for us to learn about the details of a three-dimensional object. We examine the boundaries of the cube. These are formed everywhere by surfaces bounded by sides of equal length. There are six such surfaces.

What is a surface? Those who are not capable of very sharp abstractions will already falter here. For example, you cannot cut the boundaries of a wax cube as a fine layer of wax. You would still get a layer of a certain thickness, so you would get a body. We will never get to the boundary of the cube this way. The real boundary has only length and width, no height. Thickness is eliminated. We thus arrive at the formulaic sentence: The area is the boundary [of a three-dimensional object] in which one dimension is eliminated.

What then is the boundary of a surface, for example of a square? Here we must again take the most extreme abstraction. [The boundary of a surface] is a line that has only one dimension, length. The width is canceled. What is the boundary of a line? It is the point, which has no dimension at all. So you always get the boundary of a thing by leaving out a dimension.

So you could say to yourself, and this is also the line of thought that many mathematicians have followed, especially Riemann,* who has achieved the most solid work here: We take the point, which has none, the line, which has one, the plane, which has two, the solid, which has three dimensions. Now mathematicians asked themselves: Could it not be that formally one could say that one could add a fourth dimension? Then the [three-dimensional] body would have to be the boundary of the four-dimensional object, just as the surface is the boundary of the body, the line is the boundary of the surface, and the point is the boundary of the line. Of course, the mathematician then goes even further to five-, six- and seven-dimensional objects and so on. We have [even arbitrary] “-dimensional objects [where ” is a positive integer].

Now, there is already some ambiguity in the matter when we say: the point has none, the line has one, the plane two, the solid three dimensions. We can now make such a solid, for example a cube, out of wax, silver, gold and so on. They are different in terms of matter. We make them the same size, then they all occupy the same space. If we now eliminate all material, only a certain part of space remains, which is the spatial image of the body. These parts of space are the same [among themselves], regardless of what material the cube was made of. These parts of space also have length, width and height. We can now imagine these cubes as infinitely extended and thus arrive at an infinitely extended three-dimensional space. The (material) body is, after all, only a part of it.

The question now is whether we can simply extend such conceptual considerations, which we make starting from space, to higher realities. In these considerations, the mathematician actually only calculates, and does so with numbers. Now the question is whether one can do that at all. I will show you how much confusion can arise when calculating with spatial quantities. Why? I only need to tell you one thing: Imagine you have a square figure here. I can make this figure, this area, wider and wider on both sides and thus arrive at an area that extends indefinitely between two lines (Figure 56).

This area is infinitely large, so it is >. Now imagine someone who hears that the area between these two lines is infinite. Of course, he thinks of infinity. If you now talk to him about infinity, he may have very wrong ideas about it. Imagine that I now add below [each square one more, so another row of] an infinite number of squares, and I get a [different] infinity that is exactly twice as large as the first (Figure 57). So we have > = 2 + 0,

In the same way I could get: “ = 3 +,

In calculating with numbers, you can just as well use infinity as finiteness. Just as it is true that space was already infinite in the first case, it is just as true that it is 2 + c, 3 - c, and so on. So we are calculating numerically here.

We see that the concept of the infinity of space [which follows from the numerical representation] does not give us any possibility of penetrating deeper [into the higher realities]. Numbers actually have no relation to space at all, they relate to it quite neutrally, like peas or any other objects. You now know that nothing changes in reality as a result of calculation. If someone has three peas, multiplication does not change that, even if the calculation is done correctly. The calculation 3 + 3 = 9 does not give nine peas. A mere consideration does not change anything here, and calculation is a mere consideration. Just as three peas are left behind, [you do not actually create nine peas,] even if you multiply correctly, three-dimensional space must also be left behind if the mathematician also calculates: two-, three-, four-, five-dimensional space. You will feel that there is something very convincing about such a mathematical consideration. But this consideration only proves that the mathematician could indeed calculate with such a multidimensional space; [but whether a multidimensional space actually exists, that is,] he cannot determine anything about the validity of such a concept [for reality]. Let us be clear about that here in all strictness.

Now we want to consider some other considerations that have been made very astutely by mathematicians, one might say. We humans think, hear, feel and so on in three-dimensional space. Let us imagine that there are beings that could only perceive in two-dimensional space, that would be organized so that they always have to remain in the plane, that they could not get out of the second dimension. Such beings are quite conceivable: they can only move [and perceive] to the right and left [and backwards and forwards] and have no idea of what is above and below.

Now it could be the same for man in his three-dimensional space. He could only be organized for the three dimensions, so that he could not perceive the fourth dimension, but for him it arises just as the third arises for the others. Now mathematicians say that it is quite possible to think of man as such a being. But now one could say that this is also only one interpretation. One could certainly say that. But here one must again proceed somewhat more precisely. The matter is not as simple as in the first case [with the numerical determination of the infinity of space]. I am intentionally only giving very simple discussions today.

This conclusion is not the same as the first purely formal [calculative] consideration. Here we come to a point where we can take hold. It is true that there can be a being that can only perceive what moves in the plane, that has no idea that there is anything above or below. Now imagine the following: Imagine that a point becomes visible to the being within the surface, which is of course perceptible because it is located in the surface. If the point only moves within the surface, it remains visible; but if it moves out of the surface, it becomes invisible. It would have disappeared for the surface being. Now let us assume that the point reappears, thus becoming visible again, only to disappear again, and so on. The being cannot follow the point [as it moves out of the surface], but the being can say to itself: the point has now gone somewhere I cannot see. The being with the surface vision could now do one of two things. Let us put ourselves in the place of the soul of this flat creature. It could say: There is a third dimension into which the object has disappeared, and then it has reappeared afterwards. Or it could also say: These are very foolish creatures who speak of a third dimension; the object has always disappeared, perished and been reborn [in every case]. One would have to say: the being sins against reason. If it does not want to assume a continuous disappearance and re-emergence, the being must say to itself: the object has submerged somewhere, disappeared, where I cannot see.

A comet, when it disappears, passes through four-dimensional space.

Everything that has been said so far is as unassailable as it can possibly be. And the confirmation is so simple that it will not even occur to man in his present deluded state to admit it. The answer to the question: Is there something that always disappears and reappears? — is so easy. Just imagine, a feeling of joy arises in you and then it disappears again. It is impossible that anyone who is not clairvoyant will perceive it. Now the same sensation reappears through some event. Now you, just like the surface creature, could behave in different ways. Either you say to yourself that the sensation has disappeared somewhere where I cannot follow it, or you take the view that the sensation passes away and arises again and again.

But it is true: every thought that has vanished into the unconscious is proof that something disappears and then reappears. At most, the following can be objected to: if you endeavor to object to such a thought, which is already plausible to you, with everything that could be objected to from a materialistic point of view, you are quite right. I will make the most subtle objection here, all the others are very easy to refute. For example, one says to oneself: everything is explained in a purely materialistic way. Now I will show you that something can quite well disappear within material processes, only to reappear later. Imagine that some kind of vapor piston is always acting in the same direction. It can be perceived as a progressive piston as long as the force is acting. Now suppose I set a piston that is exactly the same but acting in the opposite direction. Then the movement is canceled out and a state of rest sets in. So here the movement actually disappears.

In the same way, one could say here: For me, the sensation of joy is nothing more than molecules moving in the brain. As long as this movement takes place, I feel this joy. Now, let us assume that something else causes an opposite movement of the molecules in the brain, and the joy disappears. Wouldn't someone who doesn't go very far with their considerations find a very meaningful objection here? But let's take a look at what this objection is actually about. Just as one [piston] movement disappears when the opposite [piston movement] occurs, so the [molecular movement underlying the sensation] is extinguished by the opposite [molecular movement]. What happens when one piston movement extinguishes the other? Then both movements disappear. The second movement also disappears immediately. The second movement cannot extinguish the first without itself being extinguished. [A total standstill results, no movement whatsoever remains.] Yes, but then a [new] sensation can never extinguish the [already existing] sensation [without perishing itself]. So no sensation that is in my consciousness could ever extinguish another [without extinguishing itself in the process]. It is therefore a completely false assumption that one sensation could extinguish another [at all]. [If that were the case, no sensation would remain, and a totally sensationless state would arise.]

Now, at most, it could be said that the first sensation is pushed into the subconscious by the second. But then one admits that something exists that eludes our [immediate] observation.

We have not considered any clairvoyant observations today, but have only spoken of purely mathematical ideas. Now that we have admitted the possibility of such a four-dimensional world, we ask ourselves: Is there a way to observe something [four-dimensional] without being clairvoyant? — Yes, but we have to use a kind of projection to help us. If you have a piece of a surface, you can rotate it so that the shadow becomes a line. Similarly, you can get a point from a line as a shadow. For a [three-dimensional] body, the silhouette is a [two-dimensional] surface. Likewise, one can say: So it is quite natural, if we are aware that there is a fourth dimension, that we say: [Three-dimensional] bodies are silhouettes of four-dimensional entities.

Here we have arrived at the idea of [four-dimensional space] in a purely geometrical way. But [with the help of geometry] this is also possible in another way. Imagine a square, which has two dimensions. If you imagine the four [bounding] lines laid down next to each other [i.e., developed], you have laid out the [boundary figures] of a two-dimensional figure in one dimension (Figure 58). Let's move on. Imagine we have a line. If we proceed in the same way as with the square, we can also decompose it into two points [and thus decompose the boundaries of a one-dimensional structure into

zero dimensions]. You can also decompose a cube into six squares (Figure 59). So there we have the cube in terms of its boundaries decomposed into surfaces, so that we can say: a line is decomposed into two points, a surface into four lines, a cube into six surfaces. We have the numerical sequence two, four, six here.

Now we take eight cubes. Just as [the above developments each consist of] unfolded boundaries, here the eight cubes form the boundary of the four-dimensional body (Figure 60). The [development of these] boundaries forms a double cross, which, we can say, indicates the boundaries of the regular [four-dimensional] body. [This body, a four-dimensional cube, is named the Hinton Tessaract after Hinton.]

We can therefore form an idea of the boundaries of this body, the tessaract. We have here the same idea of the four-dimensional body as a two-dimensional being could have of a cube, for example by unfolding the boundaries.

Goethe often described, in many different ways, a feeling of which he was persistently aware. He said, in effect: When I see the irrelevance manifesting in the passions, emotions and actions of men, I feel the strong urge to turn to all-powerful Nature and be comforted by her majesty and consistency. In such utterances Goethe was referring to what since time immemorial humanity had brought to expression in the Festivals. The Festivals are reminders of the striving to turn away from the chaotic life of men's passions, urges and activities to the consistent, harmonious processes and events in Nature. The great Festivals are connected with definite and distinctive phenomena in the Heavens and with ever-recurring happenings in Nature. Easter is one such Festival. For Christians today, Easter is the Festival of the Resurrection of their Redeemer; it was celebrated not only as a symbol of Nature's awakening but also of Man's awakening. Man was urged to awaken to the reality underlying certain inner experiences.

In ancient Egypt we find a festival connected with Osiris. In Greece a Spring festival was celebrated in honour of Dionysos. There were similar institutions in Asia Minor, where the resurrection or return of a God was associated with the re-awakening of Nature. In India, too, there are festivals dedicated to the God Vishnu. Brahmanism speaks of three aspects of the Deity, namely, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. The supreme God, Brahma, is referred to as the Great Architect of the World, who brings about order and harmony: Vishnu is described as a kind of redeemer, liberator, an awakener of slumbering life. And Shiva, originally, is the Being who blesses the slumbering life that has been awakened by Vishnu and raises it to whatever heights can be reached. A particular festival was therefore dedicated to Vishnu It was said that he goes to sleep at the time of the year when we celebrate Christmas and wakes at the time of our Easter Festival. Those who adhere to this Eastern teaching celebrate the days of their Festival in a characteristic way. For the whole of this period they abstain from certain foods and drinks, for example, all pod-producing plants, all kinds of oils, all salt, all intoxicating beverages and all meat. This is the way in which people prepare themselves to understand what was actually celebrated in the Vishnu Festival, namely, the resurrection of the God and the awakening of all Nature.

The Christmas Festival too, the old festival of the Winter solstice, is connected with particular happenings in Nature. The days leading up to this point of time become progressively shorter and the Sun's power steadily weakens. But from Christmas onwards greater and greater warmth again streams from the Sun. Christmas is the Festival of the reborn Sun.

It was the wish of Christianity to establish a link with these ancient Festivals. The date of the birth of Jesus can be taken to be the day when the Sun's power again begins to increase in the heavens. In the Easter Festival the spiritual significance of the World's Saviour was thus connected with the physical Sun and with the awakening and returning life in Spring.

As in the case of all ancient festivals, the fixing of the date of the Easter Festival was also determined by a certain constellation in the heavens. In the first century A.D. the symbol of Christianity was the Cross, with a lamb at its foot. Lamb and Ram are synonymous. During the epoch when preparation was being made for Christianity, the Sun was rising in the constellation of the Ram or Lamb. As we all know, the Sun moves through all the zodiacal constellations, every year progressing a little farther forward. Approximately seven hundred years before the coming of Christ, the Sun began to rise in the constellation of the Ram (Aries). Before then it rose in the constellation of the Bull (Taurus). In those times the people expressed what seemed to them important in connection with the evolution of humanity, in the symbol of the Bull, because the Sun then rose in that constellation. When the rising Sun moved forward into the constellation of the Ram or Lamb, the Ram became a figure of significance in the sagas and myths of the people. Jason brings the golden fleece from Colchis. Christ Jesus Himself is called the Lamb of God and in the earliest period of Christianity He is portrayed as the Lamb at the foot of the Cross. Thus the Easter Festival is obviously connected with the Constellation of the Ram or Lamb. The Festival of the Resurrection of the Redeemer is celebrated at the time when, in Nature, everything awakens to new life after having lain as if dead during the Winter months.

Between the Christmas and the Easter Festivals there is certainly a correspondence but in their relation to the happenings in Nature there is a great difference. In its deepest significance, Easter is always felt to be the festival of the greatest mystery connected with Man. It is not merely a festival celebrating the re-awakening of Nature but is essentially more than that. It is an expression of the significance in Christianity of the Resurrection after death. Vishnu's sleep sets in at the time when, in Winter, the Sun again begins to ascend. It is precisely at this time that we celebrate our Christmas Festival. When the Easter Festival is celebrated the Sun is continuing its ascent which had been in process since the Christmas Festival.

We must penetrate very deeply into the mysteries of man's nature if we are to understand the feelings of Initiates when they wished to give expression to the true facts underlying the Easter Festival. Man is a two-fold being—on the one side he is a being of soul-and-spirit, and on the other side a physical being. The physical being is an actual confluence of all the phenomena of Nature in man's environment. Paracelsus speaks of man as the quintessence of all that is outspread in external Nature. Nature contains the letters, as it were, and Man forms the word that is composed of these letters.

When we observe a human being closely, we recognise the wisdom that is displayed in his constitution and structure. Not without reason has the body been called the temple of the soul. All the laws that can be observed in the dead stone, in the living plant—all have assembled in Man into a unity. When we study the marvellous structure of the human brain with its countless cells cooperating among themselves in a way that enables all the thoughts and sentient experiences filling the soul of man to come to expression, we realise with what supreme wisdom the human body has been constructed. But in the surrounding world too we behold an array of crystallised wisdom. When we look out into the world, applying what knowledge we possess to the laws in operation there, and then turn to observe the human being, we see all Nature concentrated in him. That is why sages have spoken of Man as the Microcosm, while in Nature they beheld the Macrocosm.

In this sense Schiller wrote to Goethe in a letter of 23rd August 1794: “You take the whole of Nature into your purview in order to shed light upon a single sentence; in the totality of her (Nature's) manifold external manifestations you seek the explanation for the individual. From the simple organisation you proceed, step by step, to the more complex, in order finally to build up genetically from the materials of Nature's whole edifice the most complex organisation of all—Man.” The wonderful organisation of the body enables the human soul to have sight of the surrounding world. Through the senses the soul beholds the world and endeavours to fathom the wisdom by which that world has been constructed.

With this in mind let us now think of an undeveloped human being. The wisdom made manifest in his bodily structure is the greatest that can possibly be imagined. The sum-total of divine wisdom is concentrated in a single human body. Yet in this body there dwells a childlike soul hardly capable of producing the most elementary thoughts that would enable it to understand the mysterious forces operating in its own heart, brain and blood. The soul develops slowly to a higher stage where it can understand the powers that have been at work with the object of producing the human body. This body itself bears the hallmark of an infinitely long past. Physical man is the crown of the rest of creation. What was it that had necessarily to precede the building of the human body, what had to come to pass before the cosmic wisdom was concentrated in this human being? The cosmic wisdom is concentrated in the body of a human being standing before us. Yet it is in the soul of an undeveloped human being that this wisdom first begins to manifest. The soul hardly so much as dreams of the great cosmic thoughts according to which the human being has evolved. Nevertheless, we can glimpse a future when people will be conscious of the reality of soul and spirit still lying in man as though asleep. Cosmic thought has been active through ages without number, has been active in Nature, always with the purpose of finally producing the crown of all its creative work—the human body.

Cosmic wisdom is now slumbering in the human body, in order subsequently to acquire self-knowledge in man's soul, in order to build an eye in man's being through which to be recognised. Cosmic wisdom without, cosmic wisdom within, creative in the present as it was in the past and will be in future time. Gazing upwards we glimpse the ultimate goal, surmising the existence of a great soul by which the cosmic wisdom that existed from the very beginning has been understood and absolved. Our deepest feelings rise up within us full of expectation when we contemplate the past and the future in this way.

When the soul begins to recognise the wonders accomplished by the cosmic wisdom and when clarity and illumination have been achieved, the Sun may well be accepted as the worthiest symbol of this inner awakening. Through the gate of the senses the soul is able to gaze into the external world because the Sun illumines the contents of that world. Fundamentally speaking, what man perceives in the external world is the result of the Sun's reflected light. It is the Sun that wakens in the soul the power to behold the external world. An awakening soul, one that is beginning to recognise the seasons as expressions of cosmic thought—such a soul sees the rising Sun as its liberation.

When the Sun again begins its ascent, when the days lengthen, the soul turns to the Sun, declaring: To you I owe the possibility of discerning, outspread around me, the cosmic thought that sleeps within me and within all other human beings.

Such an individual is now able to survey his earlier existence—one which preceded his present understanding of the activities of cosmic thought. Man himself is more ancient than his senses. Through spiritual investigation we are able eventually to reach the point in the far past when man's senses were in process of coming into existence, when only their very earliest beginnings were present. At that stage the senses were not yet doors enabling the soul to become aware of the environment.

Schopenhauer realised this and was referring to the turning-point when man acquired the faculty of sensory perception, when he stated: This visible world first came into existence when an eye was there to behold it.

The Sun formed the eye for itself and for the light. In still earlier times, when as yet man had no outer vision, he had inner vision. In the primeval ages of evolution, outer objects did not give rise to ideas or mental conceptions in man, but these rose up in him from within. Vision in those ancient times was vision in the astral light. Men were then endowed with a faculty of dim, shadowy clairvoyance. It was still with a faculty of dim, hazy vision that they beheld the world of the Germanic Gods and formed their conceptions of the Gods accordingly. This dim clairvoyance faded into darkness and gradually passed away altogether. It was extinguished by the strong light of the physical Sun whereby the physical world was made visible to the senses. Astral vision then died away altogether.

When man looks into the future, he realises that his astral vision must return, but at a higher stage. What has now been extinguished for the sake of physical vision will return and combine with physical vision in order to generate clairvoyance—clear seeing in the fullest sense. In the future, a still more lucid consciousness will accompany man's waking vision. To physical vision will be added vision in the astral light, that is to say, perception with organs of soul. Those whom we have called the leaders of men are individuals who through lives of renunciation have developed in themselves the condition which later on is established in all mankind—these leaders of men already possess the faculty of astral vision which makes soul and spirit visible to them.

The Easter Festival is connected spiritually not only with the awakening of the Sun but with the unfolding of the plant world in Spring. Just as the seed-corn is sunk into the soil and slumbers in order eventually to awaken anew, so the astral light in man's constitution was obliged to slumber in order eventually to be reawakened. The symbol of the Easter Festival is the seed-corn which sacrifices itself in order to enable a new plant to come into existence. This is the sacrifice of a phase in the life of Nature in order that a new one may begin. Sacrifice and Becoming are interwoven in the Easter Festival.

Richard Wagner was conscious of the beauty and majesty of this thought. In the year 1857 in the Villa Wesendonck by the Lake of Zurich, while he was looking at the spectacle of awakening Nature, the thought came to him of the Saviour who had died and had awakened, the thought of Jesus Christ, also of Parsifal who was seeking for what is most holy in the soul.

All the leaders of humanity who know how the higher life of man wakes out of the lower nature, have understood the Easter thought. Dante too, in his Divine Comedy describes his awakening on a Good Friday. This is brought to our attention at the very beginning of the poem. It was in his thirty-sixth year, that is to say, in the middle of his life, that Dante had the great vision he describes. Seventy years being the normal span of human life, thirty-five is the middle of this period. Thirty-five years are reckoned to be the period devoted to the development of physical experience. At the age of thirty-five the human being has reached the degree of maturity when spiritual experience can be added to physical experience. He is ready for perception of the spiritual world.

When all the waking, nascent forces of physical existence are amalgamated, the time begins for the spiritual awakening. Hence Dante connects his vision with the Easter Festival.

Whereas the original increase of the Sun's power is celebrated in the Christmas Festival, the Easter Festival takes place at the middle point of the Sun's increasing power. This was also the point when, in the middle of his life, Dante became aware of the dawn of spiritual life within himself. The Easter Festival is rightly celebrated at the middle point of the Sun's ascent; for this corresponds with the time when, in man, the slumbering astral light is reawakened. The Sun's power wakens the seed-corn that is slumbering in the earth. The seed-corn is an image of what arises in man when what occultists call the astral light is born within him. Therefore, Easter is also the festival of the resurrection that takes place in the inner nature of man.

It has been thought that there is a kind of contradiction between what a Christian sees in the Easter Festival, and the idea of Karma. There seems at first to be a contradiction between the idea of Karma and redemption by the Son of Man. Those who do not understand very much about the fundamentals of anthroposophical thought may see a contradiction between the redemption wrought by Christ Jesus and the idea of Karma. Such people say that the thought of redemption by the God contradicts the fact of self-redemption through Karma. But the truth is that they understand neither the Easter thought of redemption nor the thought of the justice of Karma. It would certainly not be right if someone seeing another person suffer were to say to him: you yourself were the cause of this suffering—and then were to refuse to help him because Karma must take its course. This would be a misunderstanding of Karma. What Karma says is this: help the one who is suffering for you are actually there in order to help him. You do not violate karmic necessity by helping your fellow man. On the contrary, you are helping him to bear his Karma. You are then yourself a redeemer of suffering.

So too, instead of a single individual, a whole group of people can be helped. By helping them we become part of their Karma.

When a Being as all-powerful as Christ Jesus comes to the help of the human race, His sacrificial death becomes a factor in the collective Karma of mankind. He could bear and help this Karma, and we may be sure that the redemption through Him plays an essential role in its fulfilment.

The thought of Resurrection and Redemption can in reality be fully grasped only through a knowledge of Spiritual Science. In the Christianity of the future there will be no contradiction between the idea of Karma and Redemption. Because cause and effect belong together in the spiritual life, this great deed of sacrifice by Christ Jesus must also have its effect in the life of mankind.

Spiritual Science adds depth to the thought underlying the Easter Festival—a thought that is inscribed and can be read in the world of the stars.

In the middle of his span of life the human being is surrounded by inharmonious, bewildering conditions. But he knows too that just as the world came forth from chaos, so will harmony eventually proceed from his still disorderly inner nature. The inner Saviour in man, the bringer of unity and harmony to counter all disharmony—this inner Saviour will arise, acting with the ordered regularity of the course of the planets around the Sun. Let everyone be reminded by the Easter Festival of the resurrection of the Spirit in the existing nature of man.

The subject of today's lecture is a kind of principle or rule for the explanation of fairy tales and legends. In a wider sense this principle can be extended to the world of myths, and we will indicate in a few words how this can be done. Naturally it is impossible in one hour to specify exactly how one should satisfy a child today with the fairy story itself and then later, when the child is older, with the explanation of it. I would now rather try to clarify what should exist in the soul of the one who wishes to explain such stories, and what that person ought to know.

The first thing we must determine when relating fairy tales, legends or myths is that we should certainly know more than we are able to say, indeed, a great deal more; and secondly, we should be willing to draw the sources of our explanation from anthroposophical wisdom; that is, we must not introduce into the fairy tales just anything that may occur to us but must be willing to recognize anthroposophical wisdom as such, and then try to permeate the fairy tales with it. Not everyone will succeed at once. But even if at first we cannot unriddle it all, we should gradually be able to find the right meaning. What is built on a good foundation will work out well, but where it is not, it follows that all manner of things can be construed into it. We speak both for those who are narrating and also for those to be instructed. Examples of the clearest possible kind will be given, to let us picture what it is all about. The first fairy tale we have to discuss can be told in the following manner:

Once upon a time it happened—where did it happen? where indeed did it not happen?—there was a tailor's apprentice. He had only one penny left in his pocket, and with this penny in his pocket he felt driven to wander forth. He soon became hungry, but with his penny he could only afford to buy some milk soup. When the soup was placed before him, a swarm of flies flew into it and when he had finished his meal the plate was covered with buzzing flies. He struck the plate once or twice with his hand, counting how many he had killed, and found it amounted to a hundred. So he got a slate from the innkeeper and wrote on it: “He killed a hundred at one blow!” And having hung the slate on his back he went his way. As he passed a king's palace, the king was looking out and seeing someone passing who had something written on his back, he sent his servant down to see what the writing was. The servant saw: “He killed a hundred at one blow!”—and told the king. “Ho!” said the king to himself, “That is someone I can make use of!” and he sent down and had him brought in. “I can make use of you,” said the king to the tailor. “Will you enter my service?” “Yes,” said the other, “I will willingly enter your service if you will give me a proper reward, but what that is I shall tell you later.” “Very well,” said the king, “I shall reward you handsomely if you keep to what you have promised. You shall eat and drink well, as long as you like. After that, you must do me a service, equal to your strength. Every year a number of bears come to my country and do fearful damage. They are so strong that no one can kill them. You will of course be able to kill them, if you live up to the statement on your slate.” Then the apprentice said: “Certainly I will do this, but till the bears come I must ask for as much to eat and drink as I want.” For the apprentice said to himself: “If I cannot slay the bears, and they kill me, I shall at least have eaten and drunk well.” And so it went for a while. When the time came and the bears were due to appear, he arranged the kitchen, set up a little table and left the door wide open; on the table he placed all manner of things that bears like to eat and drink—honey and suchlike; then he hid himself. The bears came along, ate and drank till they were gorged and then had to lie down. He cut off the head of each bear and in this way killed them all. When the king saw this, he asked: “Now how did you do it?” And the apprentice said: “I simply killed the bears and then cut off their heads.” The king took this on trust and said: “If you have done that, you can render me an even greater service. Every year great strong giants come to our country. No one can kill them or drive them away; perhaps you can.” The tailor replied: “Yes, I will do it, if afterwards you will give me your daughter as my wife.” Now it was very important to the king to have the giants driven away, and so he promised, and again for a time the tailor lived a good life.

When the time came for the giants to appear, he took all manner of things that giants like to eat and drink, and went to meet them. On the way he added to the rest a piece of cheese and a lark, and then with all his many things and the piece of cheese and the lark he met the giants. The giants said: “We have come again to wrestle with the strongest; no one has overcome us!” Then said the tailor's apprentice: “I will wrestle with you!” “It will go badly with you!” said one of the giants. The tailor said: “Show me your strength and what you can do!” The giant took a stone and pulverized it between his fingers. He then took a bow and arrow and shot the arrow so high into the air that it did not come down for a long time. “If you want to see my strength, if you want to wrestle with me, you must be able to do something better than that,” said the giant. The tailor took a small stone, and covered it secretly with a little cheese, so that when he pressed it between his fingers the cheese spurted out milk. Then he said to the giants: “I can press liquid out of a stone and that you cannot do!” It made a great impression on the giants that he could do something different from them. Then he also took a bow and arrow, but when he shot, unobserved by them he let loose the lark, which flew up and did not return. So he said to the giants; “Your arrow came down again, but I shot so high that mine never returned to earth!” The giants were astonished to find anyone stronger than themselves and said to him: “Will you be our comrade?” He agreed. Certainly he was small, but for all that he would be a good addition, so they took him into their company and he stayed a while with them. But it was galling to them that there should be anyone stronger than themselves, and once when he lay awake in bed he overheard them arranging to kill him. Therefore he made preparations. He got a big meal ready with the things that he had brought with him. The giants ate and drank all they could until they were gorged. Still they were determined to kill him. So he took a pig's bladder and filled it with blood, fastened it on his head and went to bed. The giant who had been chosen to kill him came and stabbed at his head, and when the blood ran out they were delighted, for now, they thought, they were rid of him, and they lay down and slept. But he got out of bed and killed one giant after another as they slept. Then he went to the king and related how he had slain one giant after the other.

The king kept his word and gave him his daughter for a wife, and the tailor was married to the king's daughter. The king marveled greatly at his son-in-law's strength, but neither the king nor his daughter knew who this man really was, whether a tailor or a king's son; they did not know it then, and if they have not found it out since, they do not know it even today.

This is one of the fairy tales that we want to take as an example. But before we go into it, let us put another beside it, for if you collect fairy tales, from whatever period or people, if they are genuine fairy tales you will find that certain basic ideas run through them all. I must call your attention to the fact that the giants were overcome by cunning. Now make a plunge back through the centuries and recall Odysseus and the giant Polyphemus in the Odyssey. Let us put the following fairy tale side by side with the first one:

Once upon a time it happened—where then was it? where indeed was it not?—there was a king who was so beloved of his people that he was always hearing them wish that he would take a wife as good and noble as himself. It was difficult for him to find anyone suitable for him and for his people. Now he had an old friend, a poor forester, who lived simply and contentedly in the forest and who was very wise. He might very easily have been rich, for the king would willingly have given him everything, but the forester wished to remain poor and retain his wisdom. So the king now went to his friend the forester and asked his advice. The latter gave him a branch of rosemary, saying: “Take care of this; the maiden before whom it bends is the maiden you ought to marry.” So the very next day the king had a number of damsels brought before him. He had pearls spread out before them, and every girl's name was written on the table in pearls; then he made it known that the maiden before whom the branch bent should be his bride; the others would have only the pearls. So he went around with the branch of rosemary, but it did not move; it bent before no one. The girls were given their pearls and went away. The second day the same thing was arranged, and again the same thing happened, and likewise on the third day. The next night, while the king slept, he heard something tapping on the window. It proved to be a little golden bird; it said to him: “You do not know it, but twice you have done me a great service; I will also do you a service. As soon as day breaks, get up, take your branch of rosemary and follow me. I will lead you to a place where you will find a horse; it has a silver arrow piercing its body; you must pull it out, and the horse will lead you to where you will find your bride.”

The next morning the king went out and followed the little golden bird until they came to a horse that was very weak and ill and that said: “A witch has shot an arrow into my body!” The king pulled out the arrow and at that moment the weak animal was changed into a wonderfully swift horse. The king mounted it, the golden bird flew on in front, and the rosemary branch waved ahead of the king on his magic horse. At last they reached a castle made of glass. Long before they reached it, they heard a buzzing and a buzzing and a buzzing, and when the king entered with the branch of rosemary and the little golden bird, he saw another king standing there, fashioned entirely of glass, and in the stomach of the glass king was an enormous bluebottle fly; it was this bluebottle fly that made the buzzing, and it was trying to work its way out. The king asked the glass king what it all meant. “Well,” said the latter, “just look towards the sofa: there sits my queen in a pink silk gown, and the secret of it all you will soon discover. The web that has been spun around the queen has just been torn away by a thornbird and will soon be quite torn off her. Then there will come a wicked spider to spin a new web around the queen, and while I am bewitched here in a glass body, my wife will be enmeshed by the spider's web. We have already been imprisoned like this for several hundred years and must remain here until we are released.” Presently the wicked spider appeared and spun her web around the queen, but while the spider was at work the magic horse stepped up and wanted to kill the spider. He was just about to put his hoof on her, when the buzzing bluebottle fly, which had worked its way out, came to the help of the spider, but the magic horse killed them both. Then instantly the glass king was turned into a quite human king. The thornbird was changed into a charming waiting-maid, the queen was freed from the cobweb, and the glass king related how it had all come about:

As soon as he became king he had had to suffer from the persecutions of a wicked witch who lived in a forest on the edge of his domain. The witch wanted him to marry her daughter, but as he had already chosen a wife from a neighboring fairy castle, the witch swore to be revenged on him; she changed him into a glass king and her daughter into a bluebottle fly, who gnawed at his stomach. The queen was tormented by the witch, who changed herself into a wicked spider and spun a cobweb around the queen; the maid was changed into a thornbird, and the king's horse was shot by the witch, whose arrow remained in its body. Now everything had been set right through the horse being freed and able to free the others.

Then the king asked the former glass king if he knew where he could find a suitable wife. The latter showed him the way to the neighboring fairy castle. The little golden bird flew on in front and when they came to the castle they found a lily. The branch of rosemary led them straight to it and bent before the lily, and at the same moment the lily was changed into a wonderfully beautiful maiden who had also been bewitched, for the queen of the neighboring castle was her sister. Now she was released, because of what had just taken place. The king took her back to his home, the wedding was celebrated, and they lived in great happiness, they themselves and all their people. They lived for a long, long time. No one knows how long, but if they have not died, they must still be alive today.

The first thing we must do in order to understand the meaning of genuine fairy tales and myths is to stop regarding them as fantasy derived from folk imagination; they are never that. The starting point of all true tales lies in time immemorial, in the time when those who had not yet attained intellectual powers possessed a more or less remarkable clairvoyance, the remains of the primeval clairvoyance. People who had preserved this lived in a condition between sleeping and waking where they actually experienced the spiritual world in many different forms. This was not like one of our dreams today, which have for most people (but not for everyone) a somewhat chaotic nature. In those ancient times, people with the old clairvoyance had such regular experiences that everyone's were the same or very similar.

What then really happened to human beings in this intermediate state between waking and sleeping? When people are in their physical bodies, they perceive the world around them as far as they can with their physical organs of perception but behind that world is the spiritual world. In this intermediate state it was as though a veil were lifted, the veil of the physical world, and the spiritual world became visible. Everything in the spiritual world was seen in some particular relationship to what lived inwardly in the human being. It is much the same in the physical world; we cannot see colors with the ear nor hear tones with the eye. The outer accords with the inner. In such an intermediate state, the external senses were silent, while the inner soul became active. Just as the eye and the ear connect themselves with the surrounding world, the different parts of the human astral body make their own connection, in this intermediate state of consciousness, with their surrounding world. When the outer senses are silenced the soul comes to life.

We have, to begin with, three members of the soul: sentient soul, intellectual soul, and consciousness soul. As the eye and the ear each have a different relationship to the surrounding world, so has each of these three members of the human soul its quite distinct relationship to its surrounding world. We become aware, in this intermediate state, of one or another part of our soul, which is directed to its surroundings. If the sentient soul especially is directed to its spiritual surroundings, we will see all those beings that are intimately connected with the ordinary forces of nature. People do not themselves see the active forces of nature, but they do see what lives in that activity: wind, weather and other natural phenomena. The beings that express themselves within it are perceived through the sentient soul. When that soul is especially active, it is exactly as if we were still living at the time when neither the intellectual soul nor the consciousness soul had yet been developed; we are transported back and see our surroundings as we did in ancient times, just as when we did not know how to use our intellectual and consciousness souls.

In those ancient times we were in very close touch with all the forces of nature and still bound up with them. We consisted, as everyone on earth did at that time, of physical body, etheric body, astral body and sentient soul alone. We ourselves were able then to do what now those beings around us that are active within the lower nature forces can do; they appear to us as the expression of what we once were, when in the howling windstorm men could tear up trees, when they could control the weather, the mist and the rain. The beings around us appear to us just as we ourselves once were when we still had the strength of giants, before we had withdrawn so completely from the forces of nature. The figures that appear around us are the facsimiles of our own former appearance, people with gigantic strength, “giants.” In such an intermediate state of consciousness, we see giants as real figures, representing a quite definite kind of being, men possessed of gigantic strength. The giants are also stupid, because they belong to a time when people could not yet use an intellectual soul—they are strong and stupid.

Now what can the intellectual soul see in such an intermediate state? It can see that things were fashioned in accordance with a certain wisdom. Through strength, through the giant in man, everything was formed and brought about; through what is in our intellectual soul when we are alive to it, we see beings around us who bring wisdom into everything, who regulate everything wisely. While the giants are generally seen in male form, we see the images of the intellectual soul as constructive female beings who bring wisdom into the activity of the world. These are the “wise women” of the tales, working behind everything that is formed and themselves forming everything. In these figures we see ourselves over and over again as we once were when we had acquired an intellectual soul but not yet a consciousness soul. Because we see ourselves intimately connected with such wise rulers at the back of things, we often feel when we enter an intermediate state of consciousness: “The wise female beings I see there are really related to me.” Therefore the idea of “sisters” often arises when these female beings appear.

Now there is something else our soul experiences when in this state of consciousness and this can be understood only very inwardly. In such a condition of soul we have withdrawn from ordinary physical perception, so that we say to ourselves, “Yes, what I see now in my soul is certainly contained in what I see during the day, in what is clear then to my intellectual soul—but when I see it by day, it is exactly reversed.” When in the intermediate state of consciousness we remember the impressions of the day, they appear to be the reverse of what we remember during the day of the perceptions we had during the intermediate state, of the various fleeting forms of our astral organization. When we recall the impressions of the day, it seems as though the subtle etheric forms behind ordinary reality were changed into stiff figures. Things during the day appear to us as though they were bewitched, with their real nature held prisoner within them. Wherever a plant or being appears bewitched, it has happened like this: we see the substance of a wise being behind the physical appearance and we remember, “Yes, by day that is only a plant; it is separated from my intellectual soul so that I cannot really reach it during the day.” When we feel this estrangement between the objects by day and what is behind them, for example the perception of the lily in the daytime and the form behind it related to our own intellectual soul, we will perceive that our intellectual soul has a strong kind of longing to unite with what is behind the object or the lily; it would be a “marriage,” a union of the night-form with the day-form.

The consciousness soul originated in human beings at a time when we had already distanced ourselves from the forces of nature and no longer could look into the mysteries of existence. What the consciousness soul is able to do is far removed from those strong forces we have described. Shrewdness is its essential quality, not strength nor any rough force. By means of the consciousness soul we can see all those spiritual beings that have remained behind at the stage where the human being had only the sheath of the ego. We see them living at that point, not able to do much with their minute strength, and as we see their forms in images according to their inner nature, they appear to us as dwarfs. In intermediate periods when we free ourselves from sense perception, we find the whole realm that lies behind sense perception peopled with such forms. In our more or less higher moments, when we feel our connection to the spiritual world, the outer events in life appear to be what they genuinely are: an imprint or reproduction of this whole relationship to the spiritual world.

If a person is especially shrewd in life and not only dry and prosaic but able to conceive the relationship of life to spiritual reality, particularly in such states in which human beings can still know something of spiritual reality, the following may happen. If he is a somewhat thoughtful person, he will observe that certain people with shrewdness are able in all sorts of clever ways to overcome the crude forces that otherwise dominate people's lives. He will then tell himself: “What actually happens in life is that rough strength is overcome by cleverness; for this we can thank the powers behind us, to whom we are related, for they have allowed a force to become conscious in us that overcomes rough strength with cleverness, the rough strength that we ourselves possessed when we were at the stage of the giants.”

The incidents of our inner life appear to us as mirror-images of events in the outer world that have passed away but can still be perceived in the spiritual world. In the spiritual world are reflected the struggles of those beings who, though weaker in bodily strength, are in consequence stronger in spiritual strength. Whenever the overcoming of the rough forces or the giants appears in fairy tales it is founded on the perception taking place in such an intermediate state of consciousness. Man wishes to gain a clear insight about himself; he has lost sight of the spiritual world, but he says to himself: “I can gain a clear insight when I am in such an intermediate state. Then I shall be so wise that intelligence and shrewdness will gain the victory over the rough forces!”

Powers appear and act and enlighten man as to what happens in the spiritual world. He then recounts what has happened in the spiritual world, and must recount it in such a way that he says: “What I have seen and related happened once upon a time, and is still happening behind the world of sense in the spiritual world, where there are different conditions of life.” It may be that every time he has seen it under such conditions, the event is already past, together with the conditions which made such an action possible. Yet it may still be there. It depends on whether someone entering an intermediate state observes that event. It is neither here nor there but everywhere where there is anyone who can observe it. Therefore, every genuine fairy tale begins:

“Once upon a time it happened—where then was it? Where indeed was it not?” That is the correct beginning of a fairy tale, and every fairy tale must end with, “I once saw this, and if what happened in the spiritual world did not perish, if it is not dead, it must still be alive today.” That is just the way every fairy tale should be related. If you always begin and end this way, you will create the right sort of sensitivity to what you are telling.

Suppose—like the king in the second tale—someone has to find a wife. He looks for a being in the human world who is as nearly as possible a picture of what he can find in the spiritual world as his archetype, and this can be found through the wise guidance of the powers that the intellectual soul can recognize. But in the outer world it cannot be found; therefore we have to subordinate the outer to the more inward element in ourselves. On the physical plane we are subject to error. Therefore we must allow deeply inward powers to rule, when we make such a search as the king is doing. Even today we are able to do this by putting ourselves in that intermediate state of consciousness, in order to make a connection with the powers ruling there. The persons who possess such powers, however, live in retirement where they are not distracted by the immense happenings of the world. And so the king has to go to his friend, the hermit, living alone and in poverty, who knows the secrets of the forces guiding human beings to the spiritual world. He is able to give the king the branch of rosemary.

The king cannot find, through any outward contrivance, what can be determined only by his archetypes in the spiritual world. Therefore he dreams first of all that a little golden bird comes to him and then he remains in a sort of waking-dream state. In this condition, through the transparent touch one has as a sense in the spiritual world, he experiences everything I have shown. Gradually he comes to find out, through the powers opposing human purity and nobility, something that has been preserved even into our own time: the possibility of being blessed with pure joy. None of the powers bound to the physical world today can bring him to this, only the power that appears to him when the intellectual soul or his general inner soul strength is directed towards the spiritual world. And this power comes to him in the image of the “magic horse.” In the physical world the horse is only the shadow picture of what lies behind it in the spiritual world. The harmful powers of soul embodied in the physical world have shot the arrow into the horse's body. The moment that these forces are plucked out and the horse is freed from them, the powers are aroused that enable the king to understand and assess all these relationships, so that by looking not only on outer appearance, he is able to find what is right for him. With ordinary intelligence, he might wander far into the world and find people here, there, and everywhere, but he would pass by the wife he is looking for; he would not understand at all what conditions are involved or what hindrances there are. The earlier conditions would be preserved.

The conditions he is looking for are there, but they are distorted by the outer physical world, where indeed most things do appear altered. We certainly do not have—in the physical world—the forces in their true reality. However, the transformed glass king finally appears in his true form and is the very personality who can point out where the other should look for a wife. Through the opposing forces of the outer world the glass king has been transformed; these forces assert themselves when the human being is completely entangled in the concerns of the external world. At first the glass king is completely enmeshed in outer circumstances and this has made him different inwardly from what he actually could be. We often have things like wrong-doing in our karma that are like an evil bluebottle fly. The truth lying at the bottom of all this is revealed in such pictures. We must be able to imagine the situation: what lies behind physical phenomena can be found in the forces awakened in the king. As his soul forces awaken and when he directs them well, he finds what the outer physical forces had hidden from him, his “bride.”

When some external happening like searching for a bride is pictured in such tales, it usually takes place not in an ordinary way but in circumstances where someone comes into contact with a sort of soul-shepherd, who will awaken the deeper forces within him, as the hermit did for the king. He is led thereby to the forces that make everything in the physical world appear unreal for a time; he needs this if it is going to be possible for him to discern the truth. And so we see that while outer conditions seem to be the source, other states of consciousness are present, calling forth genuine vision.

Every fairy tale can be explained in this way, but the explanation should come forth out of the spiritual reality that lies in back of the whole world of fairy tales. Everything that occurs in a tale, including all the small details, can gradually be found and interpreted. For example, the mysterious connection between the active forces of perception and the hidden forces of ordinary life can become visible when we begin to look at it more inwardly. This is beautifully symbolized in the touch of the little golden bird on the lily. Delicate, significant spiritual forces are indeed latent in the lily, but they only appear when they have been aroused by the golden bird.

The established belief that everything around us is bewitched spiritual truth and that we attain the truth when we break the spell, is the basis of the realm of the fairy tale. We must be quite clear that a fairy tale is primarily the account of an astral event. But by its constant repetition minor details are altered—people have an extraordinary talent for changing things! We carefully collect the tales as they are told again and again by simple people, and indeed these are remnants of an ancient picture seen in the astral world, but many of the details may well have been altered. And then the mistake is made to explain these alterations in a clever way. To explain fairy tales correctly, we must always go back to their original form and recognize it as such. Everything has to correspond to those astral experiences.

The question may arise whether the human being has the same form today as in those earlier times that are still contained in the spiritual experiences we have in the intermediate state of consciousness. The answer is no, we do not. We have passed through very different forms before developing into what we are today. However, what we have overcome and cast forth appears in a quite distinct, external form. In order to estrange ourselves from our giant power, we had to cast forth our giant shapes and overcome them, refining our forces and raising them to the intellectual soul and the consciousness soul. There are indeed beings who have remained at the stage of the rough forces. Wherever something evil appears and has to be overcome, something that has remained stationary on the astral plane, it always appears as a “dragon” or something similar; this is none other than the grotesque form, transformed in the spiritual world, of what human beings had to change and cast forth from themselves. We must be aware that this corresponds to an absolutely certain fact.

In conclusion, I should like to relate another fairy tale for you to ponder over for yourselves. It will contain the various motifs that come into play when the human being makes a connection with the astral world. If you apply what I have been describing to this somewhat complicated tale, you will be able to unravel the threads almost entirely for yourselves. This particular fairy tale is a kind of synthesis, bringing together the most varied, interweaving forces:

Once upon a time it happened—where then was it? Where indeed was it not? There was an old king, who had three sons and three daughters. When he was about to die, he said to his three sons, “Give my three daughters to those who first ask for them in marriage, that they do not stay single. That is my first charge to you. And my second is this: you must never find yourselves at a certain place, especially at night.” And he showed them the spot, under a poplar tree in the forest.

When the old king died, his sons were resolved to carry out his directions. On the first evening, something or someone shouted through the window, asking for a king's daughter. The brothers were willing and they threw one of their sisters out of the window. The second evening again someone or something shouted through the window, asking for a king's daughter. The brothers threw their second sister out of the window. And on the third evening again someone or something shouted through the window, asking for a king's daughter, and the brothers threw their third sister out of the window.

Now they were alone, but they began to be curious. They wanted above all to know why they should avoid the poplar tree in the forest. So they went out one evening and sat under the poplar tree, lighted a fire, and fell asleep. The eldest was to keep watch. While he walked backwards and forwards, armed with his sword, he saw something eating the fire; on looking closer he saw it was a three-headed dragon. He fought the three-headed dragon, he vanquished and buried it, but he said nothing about this to his brothers, and in the morning they went home. The next evening they went out again, lighted a fire, and lay down beside it. This time the second brother had to keep watch. Soon he saw something eating the fire, and on looking closer saw it was a six-headed dragon. He fought the six-headed dragon, vanquished and buried it, but said nothing about it, and the others thought nothing had happened; the next morning they went home. The third night the same thing happened; they lighted a fire, and the youngest brother had to keep watch. Almost as soon as the others were asleep, while he was walking up and down carrying his sword, he saw something eating the fire. He looked closer and hesitated a little, losing a few moments' time. Then he began to fight the dragon, which was a nine-headed one; but by the time he had finally vanquished it, the fire had gone out. Now he did not want to catch the others by surprise, so he set about finding a light. He saw a little light between the twigs, which he tried to get, but it was not enough. Then he saw something fighting in the air, and asked what it was, and the fighting Creatures replied: “We are the sun and the dawn, we are fighting for the day.” So he loosened a cord which fastened up his garments and tied the sun and the dawn together, so that the day might not begin. Then he went further to fetch light and fire, and came to a spot where three giants slept by a mighty fire. He took some of the fire, but as he tried to step over one of the giants, some fire fell on the giant and woke him. The giant seized him with his hand, showed him to the others and said:

“Look at the midge I have caught!” The king's son was greatly alarmed, for the giants wanted to kill him; however, they struck a bargain with him. There were three princesses they wanted to get hold of but a dog and a chicken at the door made such a noise that they could not get to them. The king's son promised to help them, and so the giants let him go free. A ball of thread was attached and the king's son went forward, carrying the ball of thread. It was arranged that every time he pulled the thread one of the giants should follow. He soon came to a river he could not cross. (All this time the brothers still slept.) He pulled the thread and one of the giants came and threw the trunk of a tree across the river so that he was able to go on. Now he came to the king's palace, where he expected to find the princesses. He went in and entered one of the rooms. There he saw one of the princesses. She lay on a copper bed and had a little gold ring on her finger. This he took off and put on his own finger and went on. Then he came to a second room where the second princess lay on a silver bed; she, too, had a little gold ring on her finger, which he took off and put on his own finger. Then he came to the third room, where the third princess lay on a golden bed, and he also put on her golden ring. Then he looked about him and discovered a very small opening which was an entrance to the castle. So he pulled the thread and the first giant came along; but the moment that the giant tried to get through the door, his head inside but his body outside, the king's son quickly cut off his head. He did the same with the second giant and the third, and so he killed them all. Then he went back to his brothers, after he had first unbound the sun and the dawn. They looked at each other and said; “Oh! what a long night!” “Yes,” he said, “it was a long night!” But like the others, he said nothing further, and they all went home.

Some time after this the brothers wanted to marry, and the youngest brother told the others he knew where there were a king's three daughters, and he led them to the castle. The three brothers married, the youngest marrying the most beautiful princess, the one who had lain on the golden bed. The youngest brother was the heir of his wife's father and had therefore to live in a foreign land. After a time he wished to visit his native land and to take his wife with him. But his father-in-law said to him: “If you set forth on this journey, your wife will be taken from you at the border, and perhaps you may never see her again!” They wanted to go, however, so they set out and took thirty horsemen to protect them. But when they came to the border, the wife was torn away as if by an unknown power. He went back and asked his wife's father how and where he could find his wife again. His father-in-law said;

“If you find her at all it will only be in the White Country.” So he set out to find his wife. But he did not know the way to the White Country.

At last he came to a castle, and went in to ask the way to the White Country. There he met the lady of the castle and saw that she was one of his own sisters whom her brothers had thrown out of the window. He asked for her husband, who was called in, and lo! he was a four-headed dragon! They asked him the way to the White Country; he did not know where it was, but his animals might know. The animals were called in, but none of them knew the way to the White Country. So the king's son went on and came to a second castle. There he found his second sister. He asked for her husband, and he was called in. He was an eight-headed dragon, and he, too, knew nothing of a white land. “Perhaps,” said he, “the animals might know.” The animals were called in, but none of them knew the way to the White Country, and so the king's son had to go on. After a time he came to a third castle, and there he found his third sister. He told her what he wanted, and she answered him very sadly. Her husband, a twelve-headed dragon was called in, and asked about the White Country; he said he knew nothing of it, but it might be that one of his animals did. The animals were therefore called in, but none of them knew the White Country. As the very last came a lame wolf. “Yes,” said he, “I once came to such a land; there I was wounded, and am now lame for evermore. I know the White Country, unluckily for me!” Said the king's son: “I want to be taken there.” But the wolf would not go, even though they promised him whole herds of sheep. At last he was persuaded to guide the king's son as far as a hill from which he could see the White Country. They came to this hill, and the lame wolf left him there.

The king's son found a spring from which he drank and felt greatly refreshed by the water. Then a woman came by, whom he recognized at once as his stolen wife. She also recognized him, saying immediately: “You cannot carry me off yet, for if you do, the magician who imprisons me here as his wife will at once bring me back on his magic horse. It flies through the air as quickly as thought.” Whereupon the king's son said:

“What then shall we do?” She answered: “There is only one way: we must have a swifter horse. Go to the old woman who lives at the border. Hire yourself out to her as a servant; she will set you hard tasks, but you will soon find out how to accomplish them. You must demand as wages the youngest foal and a saddle. Say to the old woman: ‘I want the old saddle that lies over there on the ground, covered with dirt.’ Thirdly, you will demand a very old bridle.”

With these instructions the king's son went on his way and came to a stream. As he rested beside it, he saw a fish lying on the bank. The fish begged him, “Take me and throw me back into the water; you will be doing me a great kindness!” He did so, and while he was doing it the fish gave him a whistle and said to him: “If you ever want anything, just whistle, and I will do you a service!” He took the little whistle and went on. After a while he met an ant who was pursued by her enemy, a spider. He freed her, and in return the ant gave him a small whistle, and told him that if he were ever in trouble and whistled, help would be sent him. He took it and went on his way. Soon he met a wounded fox, who had a silver arrow stuck in him. The fox said, “If you will draw out the arrow, and give me some herb roots for my wound, I will help you if ever you are in great trouble.” The king's son did this, and the fox also gave him a whistle. With these three whistles in his pocket the king's son went to the old woman who lived at the border. He told her he wished to hire himself out to her as a servant. “That you may,” said she, “but service with me is very hard; so far no one has been able to stand up to it.” Saying this she led him out into a field where ninety-nine men were hanging. “All these men hired themselves out to me, but none could do what I wanted. If you still wish to come and are also not able to stand up to it, you may be the hundredth.” However, he entered her service for a year.

Now in that district a year has only three days. On the first day the old woman made him a soup that sent people to sleep, a dream-soup, and then she sent him away with three horses. Having taken the soup he soon fell asleep, and when he awoke the three horses were gone. He bethought himself of the three whistles; he took the first one out and whistled. There was a kind of spring at that spot, and three little goldfish came swimming along. As soon as he touched them, they turned into the three horses, and so he brought the horses back to the old woman. She herself had changed the horses into goldfish. When she saw him return with the horses, she lost her temper and threw herself from side to side with rage.

The next day the old woman again made him a dream-soup, and sent him away with the horses. The soup sent him to sleep, and when he awoke the horses had disappeared. Then he whistled with the second whistle, and three golden ants instantly appeared. As soon as he touched them, there were his three horses again, which he brought back to the old woman. Then the old woman was quite wild, because she herself had enchanted the horses, and she railed against the horses. But the king's son was saved. The third day the old woman said to herself: “I must set about this much more cleverly.” She again made him a dream-soup, and sent him out with the horses. When the soup had sent him to sleep, she changed the horses into three golden eggs, which she placed under herself and sat down on them. When the king's son awoke, the horses were gone, and so he whistled on the third whistle. Now just imagine how cleverly everything happened. The fox came by and said:

“This time the task is a little more difficult, but we shall manage it. I shall go to the hen-yard and make a great commotion there. The old woman will spring up and go out, and at that moment you will touch the eggs and they will be changed.” And so it happened. The fox went to the farmyard and made a disturbance, and as the old woman sprang up and ran out, the king's son touched the eggs; when she came back there were the three horses! The old woman was now obliged to ask the king's son: “What will you have for your reward?” She expected he would want something very special. But he said: “I only want the foal that was born last night, the old saddle over there covered with dirt, and an old bridle.” These she gave him. The foal was so small he had to carry it on his back. When evening came the little foal said; “Now you can sleep while I go to a spring and drink.” Next morning it returned, and could already gallop with great swiftness. The second night the same thing happened, and the third day it led him to the place where his wife was. His wife was placed on the little horse—and this is the point that proves to anyone who understands these things the occult origin of fairy tales—and the king's son asked, “How fast shall we travel through the air?” His wife answered: “With the swiftness of thought!” Now when the magician who had imprisoned her noticed their flight, he mounted his magic horse to hurry after them. The horse asked him: “How fast shall we travel through the air?” And he replied: “With the swiftness of will or of thought!” He rushed after them, getting nearer and nearer—and when he was quite near, the magic horse told the one in front of him to stop. “I will only stop when you are quite close,” was the answer. At the same moment the magic horse reared, threw the robber off, and joined the little horse. So the queen was freed. The king's son was now able to go home with his wife, and they lived again in their own country. And if what happened did not fade away, they must still be alive today.

That is a somewhat more complicated fairy tale, containing the most varied features. Until the time comes when we can say more in explanation of this tale, we should just let it penetrate our souls in order to decipher the different features that are here harmonized so wonderfully. Of course, all that has been brought in through false tradition must naturally be sifted out of it. But you will be able to find the threads leading to every event if you follow the principle described here: the dragon-theme; the theme of the three sisters who were thrown out of the window; the theme of the conquest of the dragons at the fire; the theme of cleverness; the marriage theme (the intellectual soul with the outer world); and once again in a unique manner the theme of the cleverness of the magic forces. Then Nemesis or fate appears in a wonderful way when the king's son meets his sisters: the three brothers had thrown out their higher sisterly nature—hence the death of the dragons at the fire, and so on.

Such fairy tales are the experiences of certain individuals among people who are in the intermediate state of consciousness. The great popular myths of the gods are also representations of everything the initiates experience on the astral and higher planes. Fairy tales stand in relation to the great popular myths of the gods in the following manner: The myths can be understood when we realize the huge comprehensive circumstances of the cosmos underlying them, and fairy tales can be understood when we realize that the different happenings and pictures are nothing but the repetition of astral events. In far remote times everyone had astral experiences. They became fewer and fewer. One person told them to another, the other took them up, and so the fairy tales were carried from place to place. They appeared in the most varied languages, and we can note the similarity of the fairy tale treasures the whole world over, when we unveil the astral events that serve as their basis.

Any thoughtful person who travels about can even now find the last remnants of atavistic clairvoyance. Somewhere or other he may meet someone who relates what he has seen in the astral world as his own personal experience. Such a person in traveling about the world will hear fairy tales told by those who still possess a presentiment of the real truth. In this way they have been inscribed in our literature, and thus did the brothers Grimm collect their fairy tales; in like manner others have collected them, who were usually not clairvoyant themselves, but got them at second, third, or even tenth hand, so that they encountered them in a very mutilated form. But the time when people were still in such close touch with the spiritual world is approaching its twilight. Human beings are withdrawing more and more from the spiritual world. Atavistic clairvoyance is becoming rarer and rarer, at least, what may be called healthy clairvoyance, and true clairvoyance tends more and more to be attainable only through training, so that in the time to come most people who know anything of the matter will say about what people saw in ancient times: “Once upon a time old people related this or that from their astral experiences. Where was it then? It could have been everywhere.”

Nowadays, however, we can very seldom find anyone who can relate things from a genuine source, and it will be said of fairy tale experiences: “They happened once upon a time, and if they did not perish, these fairy tale experiences are still alive.”

But for most people, who are inwardly entangled with the physical plane, they have long since been dead.

There are several reasons why it would seem a somewhat risky enterprise to speak about fairy tales in the light of spiritual science.

First of all, the subject is indeed difficult, for the source of what one can call the true fairy tale mood lies deep down within the human soul. The methods of spiritual science that I have often described must take their way along extremely convoluted and lengthy paths in order to find this source. We little suspect how deeply hidden lie the springs that have given rise through centuries of human history to all the enchantment of genuine fairy tale poetry.

In the second place, it is just this poetic enchantment that causes one to feel strongly about fairy tales; studying them or trying to explain them with one's own ideas must surely destroy their fresh spontaneity, yes, even the whole effect of the tales. We often hear it said quite rightly that explanations and commentaries of poetry spoil the immediate, lively, artistic impression that a poem should give us; we want it to affect us simply on its own. All the more should this apply to the infinitely subtle and bewitching quality of the poetic tales arising from the deep, almost bottomless springs of the folk soul or from single human hearts. They flow out in such an original way that intruding our own strong judgment would seem like tearing a flower to pieces.

Nevertheless, spiritual research does find it possible to throw some light into those regions of soul that give rise to the poetic mood of the fairy tale. In doing this, the second doubt will be allayed. Simply by searching out the sources and wellsprings from which fairy tales flow, deep down in human soul nature, we can be completely sure that the explanations of spiritual science will touch those depths so gently that they are not harmed. Just the opposite: the wonder of everything lying down there in the human soul is so new, so original, so individual that one has oneself to resort to a kind of fairy tale in speaking about it all; nothing else will do to describe these hidden springs.

Goethe, for one, moving beyond his work as an artist in order to plunge fully into the wellsprings and sources of life, would not take to theoretical discussion nor destroy the fairy tale's living water with his scrutiny when he wanted to reveal one of the most profound insights into the human soul. No, as soon as he had won these insights, it seemed natural to use the fairy tale itself to describe what lives and comes to expression in the soul at its deepest level. In his Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily, Goethe tried to express in his own way the extraordinary soul experiences that Schiller brought forward in a more abstract, philosophical style in the Aesthetic Education of Man.

The very nature of fairy tale enchantment leads us to believe that explaining and trying to understand it will probably never destroy the creative mood; to dig down into those wellsprings with the resources of spiritual research is to discover something quite remarkable. If I were to talk about fairy tales as much as I'd like to do, I would have to give many lectures. Today it will be possible to bring only a few hints regarding the results of research.

A person who attempts the spiritual exploration of the fairy tale sources will find that they lie in far more profound depths of the soul than those from which other works of art emerge, even for instance, the most awe-inspiring tragic drama. In a tragedy, the poet shows us how the human soul experiences the gigantic powers of fate that exalt as well as crush their victim. Fate is the cause of the ordeals and shocks of tragedy. We find that the tangled threads woven together and then unraveled in tragic drama belong more or less to what an individual has to suffer from the outside world. However difficult this may be to discern, requiring as it does our finding the way into the uniqueness of a human soul, it is nevertheless quite possible for anyone sensitive to the impact of life itself upon the soul. A tragedy, we feel, shows us how an individual is entangled in this or that fateful life-situation.

However, the source of fairy tale mood and fairy tale poetry lies still deeper than the complexities of tragedy. For one thing, we can feel that tragedy concerns itself—as do other artistic creations—with an individual who in a certain period of life, at a certain age, is exposed to some kind of misfortune. We take it for granted that when tragic drama affects us, it is because a human being is brought through his own unique experiences to what is happening; we realize that it is one single person with his own special destiny that we must come to understand. Here, as in other works of art, we meet a particular, circumscribed sphere of life.

It is altogether different, we feel, when we come knowingly to fairy tale poetry and its mood. The effect of a fairy tale on our soul is spontaneous, elementary, and therefore remains unconscious. When we try to get a feeling for it, however, we can find that what a fairy tale expresses is not about one person in a particular situation in life, is not a limited portion of life, but rather something so integrated in human experience that it has to do with the comprehensive truth of all mankind. It is not about some special individual who finds himself at a certain time of life in a singular dilemma; what the fairy tale describes lies so completely in everyone's soul nature that it represents actual experience to children in their early years to persons of middle age and even to old men and women.

Throughout our whole lifetime the fairy tale happenings picture our most profound experiences of soul, even though the style is light, playful and picturesque. The artistic enjoyment of a fairy tale, in its correspondence to inner soul experiences, can be compared—a rather bold comparison—to the relationship of an enjoyable taste on the tongue to the hidden, complex proceedings in the rest of the body, where the food takes up its task of nourishing the organism. What lies in that further process, after our pleasure in its taste, is not at all evident to our observation or understanding. Both things seem at first to have little to do with each other; no one is able to say, from savoring a food, what its particular use will be in the life processes of the body. And so it is with our joy in the art of the fairy tale. It is far, far removed from what is happening at the same time, all unconsciously, deep in the soul. There the essence of the fairy tale is pouring forth, satisfying the soul's persistent hunger for it. Just as our body has to have nutritive substances circulating through the organism, the soul needs fairy tale substance flowing through its spiritual veins.

Using the methods of research described in my books as a way to approach the higher worlds, you will discover, at a certain level of spiritual knowledge, the spiritual processes working unconsciously in the depths of the soul. In our ordinary life we are aware of these spirit impulses within our soul only when they surface as gentle dreams, caught at rare times by our waking consciousness. Now and then we may have such a special waking up that we realize: You are emerging out of a spiritual world where there is thinking and where there are intentions, and where something was happening down in the unapproachable grounds of your existence that was somehow akin to daily happenings; this something seems an intimate part of your own being but is completely hidden from your waking, everyday life.

It is often the same story with the spiritual researcher, even when he has progressed as far as experiencing a world of spiritual beings and spiritual deeds. However much further he then advances, he nonetheless reaches again and again the same edge of a world out of whose deep unconsciousness there come towards him spiritual impulses, impulses connected with himself. They appear to his spiritual gaze like a Fata Morgana but they do not yield themselves up to him completely.

This very peculiar experience is what awaits one on looking into the unfathomable spiritual relationships belonging to the human soul. It is fairly easy to follow attentively and understand certain intimate soul happenings, for example, the emotional conflicts that also lie there within the soul and that are revealed in art, in tragic drama. But far more difficult are the quite common human conflicts, which in our daily life we simply cannot imagine are there, and yet every one of us undergoes them at every period of our life.

One such soul conflict discovered by spiritual research takes place without the ordinary consciousness being aware of it: our waking up every day, when the soul leaves the world it has been in during sleep and slips down into the physical body. As I said, we have normally not the slightest knowledge of this, yet every morning our soul is engaged in a battle that the spiritual researcher can catch only to a slight degree: it is the battle of the single, lonely human soul meeting the gigantic powers of nature. Thunder and lightning and everything else in the elements that we have to confront out in the world unload their great strengths on us as we stand there more or less helplessly. All that tremendous power, however, even when we meet it head on, is a small thing compared to the unconscious battle at the moment of waking up, when our soul—alive only to itself up to then—has to unite with the pressures and substances of a purely physical body. The soul needs this organism in order to use the bodily senses that are governed by the laws of nature and to use also the bodily limbs in which the powers of nature prevail. There is something like a yearning in the soul to dip down into this sheer natural state, a yearning satisfied each time by waking up, and yet at this very moment there is a shrinking back, a feeling of utter helplessness in the face of the eternal opposition existing between the soul and the nature-related physical body, into which one awakens. It may sound strange that this daily battle takes place in the depths of our soul—but then it takes place in complete unconsciousness. The soul knows nothing of what it has to undergo every single morning, but nevertheless it is burdened by the conflict, which affects its very nature and its individual character.

There is something else happening in these depths, which can be caught on the wing by spiritual research; it occurs at the moment of falling asleep. The human soul withdraws from the sense world and from the bodily limbs and has more or less left behind the physical body in the physical-sense world. Then there comes to the soul what one may describe as an awareness of its inwardness. At that moment it begins to experience unconsciously the inner battles caused by its constraint in a physical body in the waking state, where it has to act in consequence of its entanglement in matter. It is aware of its bent toward the burdensome sense-world, which, however, represses its morality. In falling asleep and during sleep, the soul is alone with itself and pervaded unconsciously by so moral an atmosphere that it can hardly be compared to the morality we know in ordinary life. Besides other impressions, it is this that the soul experiences when it is outside the physical body and living a purely spiritual existence between falling asleep and waking up.

We should not imagine that all these occurrences in our soul are simply absent when we are awake. Spiritual research can show one very interesting effect as an example: we do not dream only when we believe we are dreaming but we actually dream the whole day long. In truth, our soul is full of dreams all the time, even though we don't notice it, for our waking consciousness is more forceful than the dream consciousness. As a somewhat weak light is extinguished altogether in the presence of a stronger one, our day-consciousness extinguishes what is continually running parallel to it, the dream experience in the depths of our soul. We dream all the time, but we are seldom conscious of it. Out of those abundant and unconscious dream experiences—an infinitely greater number than our waking perceptions—a few rise up like single drops of water shaken out of an immense lake; these are the dreams we become conscious of. But the dreaming that stays unconscious is perceived by the soul spiritually. In its depths many things are being experienced. Just as chemical processes that we are unaware of take place in the body, there are spiritual experiences taking place within us in unconscious regions of the soul.

We can throw more light into these hidden depths of soul life by adding something else to the facts we have mentioned. It has often been emphasized, and especially so in my last lecture, [Raphaels Mission im Lichte der Wissenschaft vom Geiste (January 30, 1913); The Mission of Raphael (unpublished MS).] that in the course of evolution on earth, human soul life has undergone a complete change. When we look far, far back into the past of humankind, we find the soul of ancient man having totally different experiences from those today. In earlier lectures we spoke about early mankind's primitive clairvoyance; we will speak further about it in the future. We look out at the world today in the wide-awake condition of soul that is normal, taking in sense impressions from outer stimuli, working on them with our intelligence, reason, emotions, and will forces—but this form of consciousness is merely the one that holds good for the present day. This modern consciousness has developed out of the earlier forms in ancient days that we can call—in the best sense of the word—clairvoyant; people were able in certain intermediate conditions between waking and sleeping quite normally to experience something of the spiritual worlds. At that time a person, even though he could not become really conscious of himself, would not find the experiences we have been describing as taking place in the depths of the soul at all unfamiliar or strange.

In ancient times the human being could more fully perceive his union with the spiritual world outside himself. He saw how everything going on in his soul, the happenings deep in his soul, were related to certain spiritual realities alive in the universe. He saw these realities moving through his soul, felt closely related to the spirit-soul beings and realities of the universe. This was a characteristic of mankind's primeval clairvoyance. In ancient times, not only artists but quite primitive people frequently had a feeling that I am going to describe, which today we arrive at only in quite special moods.

It can really happen that, living gently in the depths of the soul, as gently as anything can be, there is an experience of the spiritual realities mentioned above, one that does not come to consciousness. Nothing of it is perceived in the wide-awake life of the day. But something is there in the soul, just as hunger often is there in the physical organism, and just as we have a need for something to satisfy our hunger, we have also a need for something to satisfy this delicate need in our soul.

It is at this moment that one feels urged either to come to a fairy tale or a legend that one knows, or else, perhaps, if one has an artistic nature, to create something of the kind oneself, even though one senses that all the words one could theoretically use would only reach a kind of stammering about such experiences. This is how the fairy tale images arise. The nourishment that satisfies the hunger we spoke of is just this conscious filling of the soul with fairy tale pictures. In the earlier times of mankind's evolution, the human soul was closer to a clairvoyant perception of its inner spiritual experiences; often, therefore, the simple country folk felt this hunger more distinctly than we do today, and this led them to search for nourishing pictures arising out of their creative soul life; we find these today in the fairy tales coming down to us as folk traditions in various parts of the world. In those earlier times the human soul felt its connection to spiritual existence and felt more or less consciously the inner battles it had to undergo, even without understanding them. The soul formed these into pictures and images which had only a distant resemblance to what was happening in its depths. But still one can feel that there is a connection between the happenings of a fairy tale and the unfathomable, profound experiences of the soul.

It is evident—many can confirm this—that the heart of a child often succeeds in creating for itself a comrade or “friend” who is present only for that child and who stays at its side through all its coming and going. Probably everyone knows children with such invisible spirit-friends. These unseen playmates you have to imagine as being with the child wherever he is, sharing all his joys and sorrows. And then you see someone coming along, a so-called “intelligent” person, who hears about this invisible playmate and tries to talk the child out of it, even believes it's a healthy thing he's doing—but it has a bad effect on the child's feeling-life. A child will grieve for his soul-comrade and if he is susceptible to spiritual-soul moods, the grief will be weighty and can develop into a pining away or sickliness. This is actual experience, related to deep, inward happenings of the human soul.

We can take to heart, without dispelling the fragrance of such a tale, the Grimms' story of the child and the paddock (a small frog). A little girl lets the paddock eat with her out of her bowl of bread and milk; the paddock only drinks the milk. The child talks to the little creature as to another human being, saying one day, “Eat the bread crumbs as well, little thing.” The mother hears this, comes out to the yard, and kills the paddock. And now the child loses her rosy cheeks, wastes away and dies.

In this tale we can feel an echo of certain moods that really and truly are present in the depths of our soul. They are there not only at certain periods of our life, but whether we are children or adults, we recognize such moods because we are human beings.

Every one of us can feel reverberating in us how this something we experience but don't understand, something we don't even bring to consciousness, is connected with the effect of the fairy tale on our soul like the taste of food on our tongue. And then the fairy tale becomes for the soul very much like nutritious food when it is put to use by the whole organism. It is tempting to search in these deep-lying soul experiences for what reverberates in each different tale. Of course it would be a tremendous task over a long time, given the great collections of fairy tales from everywhere in the world, to probe into them just for this. However, what can be looked at in a few tales can be used in a general way for all of them, if the few are genuine fairy tales.

Take one of the stories that the brothers Grimm collected, “Rumpelstiltskin”. When a miller claims that his daughter can spin straw into gold, the king has him bring her to the castle in order to test her art. She comes to the king, is locked in a room with a bundle of straw and “there sat the poor miller's daughter and for the life of her could not tell what to do”. As she begins to weep, there appears a little man who says, “What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold for you?” The girl gives him her necklace and the little man spins the straw into gold. The king next morning is astonished and delighted but wants more; she should spin straw into gold again. She is locked in another room with even more straw, and when the little man appears again and asks, “What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold for you?” she gives him her ring. By morning all the straw is spun into glittering gold. But the king is still not satisfied. The manikin comes again, but now the girl has nothing more to give him. “Then promise me, if you should become queen, to give me your first child,” says the little man, and so she promises. And when, after a year, the child is there and the manikin comes and reminds the queen of her promise, she begs him to wait. “I will give you three days' time,” he replies. “If you know my name by that time, you shall keep your child.” The miller's daughter sends messengers far and wide. She must find every name and also the particular name of the little man. Finally, after several wrong guesses, she succeeds in naming the little man by his right name: Rumpelstiltskin.

No other work of art gives us the feeling of utmost inner joy as the fairy tale with its unsophisticated pictures, yet we can also know the deep soul experience from which such a tale arises. It is a prosaic but accurate comparison to say, we can know a great deal about the chemistry of our food and still take pleasure in something delicious we're eating. And so we can know and understand something about these deep inner soul experiences in us that are felt but not “known”—and that emerge as the pictures of fairy tales.

Indeed our solitary soul, this miller's daughter, is a lonely thing, both in sleep and in waking life, even though she is harbored in our body. The soul feels (but unconsciously) the great antithesis she has to live in; she experiences (but does not understand) her unending task, her own anchorage in divine worlds.

The soul will always be aware of other insignificant abilities in comparison to those of outside nature. Nature is the mighty enchantress, who can transform one thing into another in a trice—something the soul would like to be and do.

In everyday consciousness, one can submit with a good grace to this disparity between the human being and the omnipotent wisdom of the spirit of nature. In the depths of the soul, however, things are not so simple. The soul would certainly come to grief if she did not surmise that within her own conscious being a still deeper being is present, something she can trust, something she might be able to describe like this:

You, Soul, are still at such an imperfect stage—but there is something in you, another entity, who is far more clever than you, who can help you to accomplish the most difficult tasks and give you wings to rise up and look over wide perspectives into an infinite future. Someday you will be able to do what is still impossible, for there is something within you that is far, far greater than the part of you now that “knows”; it will be a loyal helper if you can enter into an alliance with it. But you must truly be able to form a concept of this creature who lives within you and is so much wiser, cleverer, more skilful than you are yourself.

When you try to imagine this conversation of the soul with itself, an unconscious conversation with the more capable part of the soul, you can then try to catch this nuance in the Rumpelstiltskin fairy tale: what the miller's daughter had to experience in not being able to spin straw into gold and then finding a loyal helper in the little manikin. It is impossible to blow away the fragrance of those pictures, even when we know their origin, deep down in our soul life. Let us take another tale. Please forgive me if it is connected with things that seem to have a personal coloring; it is not meant to be personal. It makes it somewhat easier to explain if I add this small personal note.

In my book Occult Science [ An Outline of Occult Science, Anthroposophic Press, New York, 1972.] you will find a description of the evolution of the world. I don't intend to speak about it now—possibly on another occasion. During this evolution of the world our earth has passed through certain stages as a planet in the universe, and these stages can be compared to the stages of life in the individual human being. Just as individuals go through one life after another, the earth itself has had various planetary stages or embodiments. In spiritual science, for certain reasons, we speak about the earth—before its “earth” stage began—as having a “moon” stage and before that, a “sun” stage. There was a sun evolutionary period as a planetary pre-stage of our earth in the primordial past; an ancient sun was still united with the earth, from which—at a later stage—it split away. The moon also split away from what originally was the sun. Our sun today is not the original one but only a piece of it; we can speak of an ancient sun-stage of the earth and also of our present sun. Spiritual research can look back to the time in earth evolution when the second sun, our present one, developed as an independent body in the universe. In searching for the existence at that time of beings actually perceptible to the senses, it finds only the lower species up to the level of the fishes.

You can read all this in more detail in Occult Science, and there you will be able to understand it. The actual details, however, can be found only through the scientific methods of spiritual research. At the time they were discovered and I wrote them down (more precisely, they were not discovered just when I wrote them down but they were, one can say, discovered for me and I wrote them down in Occult Science) the following fairy tale was quite unknown to me—and this is the personal note I wanted to add. I can verify the fact that it was unknown then, for I found it much later in Wundt's Elements of Folk Psychology and traced it then back to its source.

Before I give you a short summary of the fairy tale, let me say this: Everything the spiritual researcher finds in the spiritual world—and what was just described had to be found in the spiritual world, for otherwise it would no longer exist—everything in that world is very much connected with the human soul. In the very deepest roots of our soul we are united with that world. It is always at hand; we enter it unconsciously as soon as we fall asleep in a normal way. In our union with that world, our soul holds within itself not only its sleep experiences but also all those experiences related to world evolution as we have described them. It is a paradox but one can say that the soul knows unconsciously that it experienced the stream of evolution from the original sun to its daughter, the sun we see shining in the sky, and to the moon that is also a child of the original sun. Moreover, the soul can recognize that it was living through a soul-spiritual existence at that time, for it was not yet united with earthly substance. It could look down then on earthly happenings, for example, when the highest animal organisms were the fish-prototypes, at the time when the present sun and moon developed by separating from the earth. In the unconscious, the soul is connected with these happenings.

Now look at this short folk tale that can be found among several primitive peoples: There was once a man who was made of resin. He worked only at night. If he had worked in the daytime, the sun would have melted him. One day, however, he did go outside, for he wanted to catch some fish. And lo! the man made of resin melted away. His sons made up their minds to take revenge. They shot off their arrows. They shot so well that the arrows formed figures, towering one above the other. They became a ladder, reaching right up into the sky. The two sons climbed up the ladder, one by day, the other by night. And one son became the sun, the other son became the moon.

It is not my custom to explain such tales with abstract, intellectual ideas. Everyone can realize, however, through spiritual research how the human soul is deeply connected with everything happening in the world, how the soul can be understood only through spiritual means, and how it hungers to enjoy the picture-images of its unconscious experiences—this is truly different. If you feel this, you will also feel, vibrating like an echo of this folk tale, just what human souls experienced at the time of the primordial sun and then at the origin of the sun and moon during the time of fish-development in earth evolution. It was for me a most important event—and this is the personal note—to discover, long after these things were described in Occult Science, this particular tale. Even though I would never wish to explain it in an abstract way, a certain feeling comes over me when I look at the evolution of the world, a feeling that is twin-brother to the one I get from immersing myself in the wonderful picture-images of the folk tale.

We can look at another story, this one from the Melanesian Islands. Before we hear it, let us recall that according to spiritual research the human soul is closely connected to the present-day happenings and facts of the universe. It may be too picturesque, but nevertheless quite correct from the spiritual-scientific standpoint, to describe the life of the soul when it leaves the body in sleep as completely related to and united with the whole universe. One possibility of remembering or understanding this relationship of our ego, for example, to the cosmos, at least to something significant in the cosmos is to look at the plants. They can grow only when they have the light and warmth of the sun. They are rooted in the earth and consist, as spiritual science tells us, of a physical body interwoven by an etheric body. This is not enough, however, to cause the plants to unfold and blossom; they must also have the forces of the sun shining down on them.

Looking at the human body during sleep, we see to some degree its equivalence to a plant. Our sleeping body is like a plant, in that it has the same power to grow. But the human being has freed himself from the cosmic order in which the plant is caught. A plant has to wait for sunlight to come to it, the rising and setting of the sun. It is dependent, as we humans are not, on the external cosmic order. Why are we not? Because of a fact that spiritual research has discovered, that the human ego, which in sleep is outside the plant-like body, unfolds for the body what the sun unfolds for the plant. The sun pours its light over the plant; the human ego shines too, resting spiritually over the sleeping body. And the human ego is related to the life of the sun; it is itself a kind of sun for the plant-like human body, engendering its growth during sleep, repairing its various forces that have been used up during the daytime. In perceiving this, we realize how much like the sun our ego is. As the sun moves across the sky—of course I am speaking of its apparent movement—the effect of the sun's rays changes according to the constellations of the zodiac from which they come to earth. In the same way, spiritual science shows us ever more clearly that the human ego passes through the various phases of its experience; the physical body is influenced according to each aspect. We perceive the sun's effect on earth, with the help of spiritual science, according to whether it is passing through Aries, or Taurus, or any other constellation. Rather than refer to the sun in general terms, it is preferable to describe the effect of the sun from one of the twelve constellations of the zodiac. As we consider the sun's passage through the constellations, we become aware of its relationship to the ever-changing ego.

All this is described much more fully in Occult Science; it can be acquired as spirit-soul knowledge. We can perceive it as something that takes place unconsciously in the depths of the soul and yet takes place as an inward involvement with the spiritual powers of the cosmos alive in the planets and constellations.

Let us compare these secrets of the universe, disclosed by spiritual science, with the following Melanesian tale, which I will sketch very briefly.

In the road is a stone. The stone is the mother of Quatl, and Quatl has eleven brothers. After Quatl and his brothers were created, Quatl began to create the world. But in this world that Quatl created, there was no change of night and day. Quatl heard about an island where there was a difference between the day and the night. He traveled to that island and brought a host of beings back to his own land. And through the power of these beings, those in Quatl's land came into the alternation of sleeping and waking. Sunrise and sunset occurred for them as soul happenings.

It is amazing what vibrates as echo from this story. If you read the whole thing, you will find that every sentence vibrates with the tones of world secrets, just as our soul vibrates in its depths when it hears how spiritual science describes those secrets. It is true: the source of fairy tale mood and fairy tale poetry lies in the depths of the human soul! The tales are simply pictures using external happenings to help characterize the soul experiences we have described; the pictures are nourishment for the hunger arising from these experiences. This must also be true: we are quite distant from the experience but nevertheless we can feel them echoing in the fairy tale picture-images.

When all this has been said, we should not be surprised to find that the most beautiful and characteristic fairy tales have come to us from those very early times when human beings had a certain clairvoyant consciousness. Because of this, they were able to come close to the wellsprings of fairy tale mood and poetry; it is not at all strange that from those parts of the earth where souls are closer to spiritual sources than in the western world, for example in India or the Orient, fairy tales can have an especially distinctive character.

Furthermore, in German we find Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm's Children's and Household Tales, which they collected by listening to their relatives or other more or less simple, unsophisticated people telling stories that remind us of the ancient European sagas; even the fairy tales contain elements of the great stories of heroes and gods. We should not be surprised to hear that the most significant fairy tales have now been proven older than the sagas. The hero stories, after all, describe someone at a certain time of life in a particular difficulty, while the fairy tales show us what is relevant to every single person at every period of life from his first breath to his last. Then we understand how a fairy tale can press into itself the deep-seated soul experience on awakening from sleep, of feeling completely inadequate in the face of the powers of nature; how, too, one feels equal to it only with the consoling knowledge that something greater than oneself is present in the soul that may even allow one to triumph over the forces of nature.

When you have a feeling like this, you will understand why there are so many giants that have to be dealt with in the tales. Indeed, they make their appearance without fail as an image out of the soul's mood on waking up—of its wanting to enter the body and seeing the “gigantic” forces of nature alive there. The battle the soul has to undergo is exactly what corresponds—though this cannot be understood perhaps with the intellect—to the various descriptions of people having to fight giants. The soul realizes when confronted by battles with giants that it has only one advantage—and that is its cleverness. This is the soul's perception: You can slip into your body but what can you do about those tremendous forces of the universe? Why, there's one thing the giants don't have that you do have ... cleverness! reason! Unconsciously this lives in the soul even when it realizes the small strength it has; we find that the soul, put into this position, can express itself in the following pictures:

A man was going along the road. He came to an inn, went in, and asked for a bowl of milk soup. Flies by the dozen were buzzing around; some fell into the soup, the others he swatted. When he counted a hundred dead flies on the table, he boasted, “A hundred with one blow!” The innkeeper hung a medallion around his neck that said: He killed a hundred with one blow.

The man went further and came to a castle where the king was looking out of his window. When he caught sight of the wayfarer and his medallion, the king thought to himself, “This is a fellow I can make use of!” The king hurried out and took the man into his service to do a certain task. “There is a pack of bears coming ever and again into my kingdom. Look! if you've killed a hundred with one blow, you can put an end to those bears.” The man said, “I'll do it!” But first he demanded his wages and plenty of food before the bears should arrive, for he thought he might as well enjoy his life for a while, in case it should be cut short. Now came the time when the bears were expected; he collected together all the sweet things bears like to eat, and laid them ready.

The bears came, ate up everything they found and were so well stuffed that they had to lie down to sleep off their greed. And now as they lay helpless, the man came and finished them off. When the King arrived, the man told him, “I simply chopped off their heads while they jumped over my stick!” The King was delighted with this brave fellow and gave him a still harder task. “Look! The giants will soon be coming back into my kingdom. You must help me with them.” The man promised and when the time came, he collected a great amount of good things to eat, which he took along with him, besides a young lark and a piece of cheese. Sure enough, he met the giants and began to boast about how strong he was. One of them said, “We'll show you how much stronger we are!” Taking up a stone, he squeezed it into a powder. “Do that likewise, little man, if you're as strong as we are.” The other giant aimed an arrow up into the sky, shot it off, and only after a very long time, it dropped down again. “Do that likewise, little man, if you're as strong as we are.” At that, the man who had killed a hundred with one blow told them, “I can do better than that.” He took up a stone, stuck his piece of cheese on it and said, “Watch me press water out of the stone!” Sure enough, when he squeezed, water squirted out of the cheese. The giants were astonished. Then the man took the lark and let it fly upwards, saying, “Your arrow came back, but mine will go up so high that it never comes back!” Sure enough, the lark did not return. The giants were so astonished that they decided that they would have to overcome him with cunning, for it seemed that they couldn't manage it with strength. However, they failed to get the better of the man with cunning, for he got the better of them. They lay down together to sleep and in the dark the man put over his head a pig's bladder that was blown up and filled with blood. The giants told one another, “We can't overcome him when he's awake, so we'll have to wait until he sleeps.” As soon as he was asleep, they attacked him with great blows on the head and broke the pig's bladder. The blood gushed out; the giants were sure they had finished him off. Therefore they laid themselves to rest and slept so peacefully that it was easy for the man to put an end to them.

Just as it is in dreams, this fairy tale peters out in a somewhat vague, unsatisfactory way; nevertheless we do find in it the conflict of the human soul with the forces of nature, first with the “Bears” and then with the “Giants.” But something more is in the fairy tale. The man who “killed a hundred with one blow” stands out so clearly that we feel something vibrating in the unconscious depths of our soul to the utter trust he had in his cleverness, even in the face of those powerful forces he found so “gigantic.” It is wrong to try to explain in abstract detail the picture-images created with such artistry, and this is not the intention here. Nothing actually can disturb the character of a fairy tale if you feel how it echoes our inward soul processes. And these inner processes—however much one knows about them, however much as spiritual science itself can know about them—you do become ever and again entangled in them; then, experiencing them in a fairy tale, you see them in their most elemental, primary form. Knowledge of these soul-happenings, when it is present, does not destroy the ability to transform them into fairy tale magic.

It is certainly stimulating for the spiritual researcher to discover in fairy tales just what the human soul has need of when confronting its innermost experiences. The fairy tale mood can never be disturbed, for research that is able to arrive at the wellsprings of the tales in subconscious life will find there something that becomes poorer for the ordinary consciousness when it is described abstractly. The fairy tale itself is the most perfect description of these deepest of soul experiences. Now one can understand why Goethe put into the manifold eloquent picture-images of his Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily the rich experiences of life that Schiller expressed in abstract philosophical terms. It was pictures that Goethe wanted to use—even though he was otherwise very much given to thought—in order to express his most profound perception of the subconscious roots of human soul life.

Because fairy tales belong to our innermost feeling and emotional life and to everything connected with it, they are of all forms of literature the most appropriate for children's hearts and minds. It is evident that they are able to combine the richest spiritual wisdom with the simplest manner of expression. One has the feeling that in the magnificent world of art there is no greater art than this one, which traces the path from the unknown, unknowable depths of the soul to the charming and often playful fairy tale pictures.

When what is most difficult to understand is able to be put in the most clearly perceptible form, the result will be great art, intrinsic art, art that belongs at a fundamental level to the human being. Human nature in the child is linked to the life of the whole world in such a primary way that children must have fairy tales as soul-nourishment. The expression of spiritual force can move much more freely when it comes towards a child. It should not be entangled in abstract, theoretical ideas if the child's soul is not to become dry and disturbed, instead of remaining linked to the deep roots of human life.

Therefore there is nothing of greater blessing for a child than to nourish it with everything that brings the roots of human life together with those of cosmic life. A child is still having to work creatively, forming itself, bringing about the growth of its body, unfolding its inner tendencies; it needs the wonderful soul-nourishment it finds in fairy tale pictures, for in them the child's roots are united with the life of the world. Even we adults, given to reason and intelligence, can never be torn away from these roots of existence; we are most connected with them just when we have to be fully involved with the life of the time. Therefore at various parts of our life, if we have a healthy, open-hearted mind, we will happily turn back to fairy tales. Certainly there is not a single age or stage of human life that can take us away from what flows out of a fairy tale, for otherwise we would be giving up the deepest and most important part of our nature; we would be giving up what is incomprehensible for the intellect: a sensing within ourselves, a sense for what is pictured in a simple fairy tale and in the simple, artless, primordial fairy tale mood.

The brothers Grimm, and other collectors like them, devoted long years to bringing the world the somewhat civilized fairy tales they had gathered out of the folk tradition. Although they had no help from spiritual science, they lived wholeheartedly with these tales, convinced that they were giving human beings what belonged intrinsically to human nature itself. When you know this, you will understand that although the age of reason did its best for a hundred years or so to alienate everyone, even children, away from fairy tales, now things are changing. Fairy tale collections like the Grimms' have found their way to every person who is alive to such things; they have become the property and treasure of every child's heart, yes, property of all our hearts. This will grow even stronger when spiritual science is no longer considered just a theory but becomes a mood of soul, one that will lead the soul perceptively towards its spiritual roots. Then spiritual science, moving and spreading outwards, will be able to confirm everything that the genuine fairy tale collectors, fairy tale lovers, fairy tale tellers wanted to do.

To sum up what spiritual science would like to say today in describing the fairy tale, we can take the poetic and charming tribute that a devoted friend of the tales [Ludwig Laistner (1848 – 1896)] liked to use in his lectures, some of which I was able to hear. He was a man who understood how to collect the tales and how to value them.

“The fairy tale is like a good angel, given us at birth to go with us from our home to our earthly path through life, to be our trusted comrade throughout the journey and to give us angelic companionship, so that our life itself can become a truly heart- and soul-enlivened fairy tale!”

My dear friends,

Speaking to you here for the first time in these rooms on an Anthroposophical subject, I feel I must express gratitude first of all-gratitude to those friends who, in my unavoidable absence, have devoted themselves to the arrangement of these rooms, which are to be used for our work and discussions. At the present time man's soul is of, necessity involved in great and far-reaching events of world and human development. So strong is their demand upon our will and energy if we would understand our place as man within world-history, that we cannot as in earlier, more peaceful times, attend with so great care to such outward things of beauty as the arrangement of a place devoted to ideal spiritual aims, so devoted that men can work towards them together, co-operating as in social life. Rightly seen, there is a certain connection between the recent great events throbbing through the world and such a dedication. The vital claims of the historical development of mankind demand that what men have hitherto sought in the form of beauty, artistic adornment for their personal life, should be transferred from that egoistic realm and centred more and more where separateness gives way to social co-operation. It would argue a very poor understanding of the future if we judged it by what appear today as aims. The social movements of the present do, of course, wear a “democratic” look, but we need only observe their transitory nature in the right light to make no mistake as to their character. Yet these social movements contain a hint of menace lest the beautiful, which runs through our earthly civilization as artistic quality, may not find in the future the same comprehension as in the past, when only the better-endowed classes could devote them­selves to its culture.

A time of transition may result in some dimming of the appreciation of beauty, but it is essential, if a really social kind of living is to come into being, that whatever occurs in space and time should tend to encourage appreciation of the beautiful: otherwise man­kind will sink into mere philistinism. So the simple beauty of these rooms, which our friends have tried to make appropriate to the serious things of life to be fostered here, may be taken as symbolical of the great events throbbing through our time. Out of such feelings I speak, as from you all, to thank our friends most heartily for the work which they have accomplished in this time of stress. It would, further, be wrong to assume that the future will so develop that personality and all that has its origin in the personal and individual will diminish in value by reason of what men call the “objective events.” That will not be the case. The three or four centuries ending with the nineteenth have made it seem justifiable, in the general evolution of mankind, to regard man as a “cog” in the world-machine. The task of the immediate future will be for man to work himself out of this world-mechanism.

We may say without hesitation that the great movement of the present day displays a thoroughly egoistic character. It is true, its aim is Socialism—but its basis is that of anti-social impulses and instincts. No mistake should be made. We see that the real reason in striving for Socialism is that men have become so anti-social in development and constitution of soul. If the social sense were more natural and obvious, fewer socialist “programmes” would be formed; they have been largely evoked by anti-social feeling and experience. In times like the present, filled with bewilderment, in which the basic cause, of social feeling is egoistic and anti-social, the moment comes when an immense impression is made by the sight of a noble, selfless devotion to an ideal, through genuine, unselfish human feeling. It was well if, in these serious times, we did not hold outward festival, but turned our thoughts to this—how valuable it is, amongst the vehement, egoistic strivings of our times, to find the opportunity to create, as has been done here, something for the furtherance of an ideal, spiritual task, even if it be on a small scale. So the highest festival we can hold is to consider subjects connected with the seriousness of the present time, drawing that seriousness into our souls, as well as fostering in our hearts thoughts deeply concerned with human evolution, thoughts of worth and value in the tasks to which these rooms are dedicated.

Looking at our own time critically, yet not captiously, we should be dishonest if we shut our eyes to the many forces of decline prevalent in all spheres of life. If with due earnestness we consider the present day, we cannot forget how frequently what is present in, consciousness and finds expression in the spoken word stands far apart from truth and reality. Indeed, any feeling for the gulf yawning between words and the truth is lost in many of our contemporaries and in place of the elementary flow of truth out of the human soul we have the catchword, the “slogan!” What is the characteristic of a “catchword?” The lack of connection of the word used with the inner fount of truth. We need only look at the expressions of universal untruth which have been prevalent in the world during the last four, five, or six years, to be convinced that the estrangement of the world from genuine reality has led to the “empty phrase” and, if uncountered, it will become more dominant. Nor is there anything, outside of this growth of “the phrase,” which has flourished so much in the present age, as indulgence in face of untruth, as a definite bias towards falsity. Nowadays we can find plenty of people forbearing enough to make excuses for the “catch-saying” with its absence of truth. These “tolerant” talkers always ask: “How did the person mean this? Had he not the best intentions? Did he not think he was actuated by the best of motives?” And how little there is of the conscientious regard for truth which lays the duty on a speaker to test the ground of his assertion before he makes it! The time must, come when it will not be enough to say of a man “he meant well” when he has given expression to an untruth. Rather when men will feel the deepest responsibility for testing truth, when even in good faith to have said something which does not correspond with facts will not excuse it, when a man will realize that subjective belief in the truth of what he says matters nothing to the objective knowledge of the world. It does matter whether his speech corresponds to facts or not, is true, or is not, in the objective sense. The very seriousness of our times demands that we should learn what phrases and catchwords really are.

Nowadays many people feel, although not altogether consciously, that we may hold any view if it is agreeable to us, a belief easily to be studied in the attitude they adopt towards current events. We have passed through a serious period, but men only judge of it as is agreeable to them, not according to its importance for the general development of humanity. We have seen some of our con­temporaries, in the centre of the stage during the happenings of the last four or five years, thrust forwards into the first place in dealing with them. These men—their destiny has overtaken them—but how little are we inclined to acquire an objective judgment of what has really happened, or to ask by what method of selection, in these critical times, our leading men have been raised to their dominant position to the detriment of mankind! Nothing is so essential today as to work our own way through all subjective opinions and reach some sort of objectivity with regard to these things. An idea is prevalent that it is easy to speak the truth. Far from it: truth has many enemies and to speak it brings swift retribution on a man, since it is taken amiss in all sorts of ways.

During the last few months I have often been told that what I have put forward on the subject of the social question is so hard to understand as to be incomprehensible, and I have had to assert over and over again that to grasp this social impulse requires a different frame of mind from that which has pre­dominated in mid-Europe for a long time, coming to a climax within the last four or five years. In these recent years people managed to grasp a good deal which I honestly could not grasp. All sorts of statements, elegantly set forth, have been made and people have taken them in. They could not have done that if they had possessed, a straightforward sense of truth—yet, they did it “to order,” everything “commanded by headquarters” was received. today the essential things are not to be so acquired, out of “obedience,” but through man's own freedom of soul. Men must first regain that quality: the last four or five years have made that plain. In face of the delusions men have grown accustomed to during these last years, it is no pleasant duty to speak the truth now, for truth is so serious a matter and people resent it so deeply.

In time to come our age will be envisaged in a quite peculiar way. Men's present duties differ from those of the immediate past. Therefore, we ought to get some idea how future ages will look at today's events.

Men must learn to turn their eyes, their spiritual gaze, to the great and revolutionary impulses occurring in the earthly path of development. One such change took place in the middle of the fifteenth century A.D. According to Anthroposophical Spiritual Science, it is the beginning of the fifth post­Atlantean epoch, which we know bears an entirely different character from the earlier Graeco-Latin one, which began in the eighth century B.C. The “fable convenue” usually called “history” gives no information regarding the vast difference in the qualities of the human soul in, for instance, the tenth century, and the centuries following the fifteenth. New soul-qualities and attitudes arose in humanity and we can really only understand what has entered its evolution if we turn our spiritual vision to the forces active within it and see, for instance, their effects in the revolution which occurred in the middle of the fifteenth century. Some time has passed since then, and we are now approaching the crisis due to what swept over civilized mankind at that point and has developed up to the present time—this critical moment, when man's full consciousness must be brought to bear upon it.

We have reached a time when man must awake to the consciousness that, as man, he has his position within the Earth's history, and that outside of him are the three natural kingdoms, the animal, plant and mineral. (We shall speak later of how this awakening is to be achieved.) To speak of this fact expresses only a half-truth from the standpoint of our modern consciousness, the consciousness, that is, of the fifth post Atlantean epoch. Before that epoch people could still speak of the three kingdoms as outside of themselves, because their view of the kingdoms of nature was essentially different. In earlier times people understood them as being spiritually controlled. Modern man has lost that; he must regain the consciousness in which he looks at the three kingdoms, knowing that, as he is related downwards to them, so he is related upwards to the three kingdoms of the Angeloi, Archangeloi and Archai. The half-truth becomes a whole truth when so completed, when we can look up to the realm of these three spiritual kingdoms. Our physical body has a relation to the three natural kingdoms, our soul-spiritual to what lives in the three Hierarchies; and while we change on the one side our relation to the three kingdoms of nature, so also, we alter our relation to the three kingdoms of Hierarchies which stand above us. I want to draw your attention today to this important fact in human evolution, for by holding fast to this thought we can best celebrate the inauguration of this Branch.

If we look back to earlier epochs, which culminated in the middle of the fifteenth century, we must say, if we still keep in view the higher Hierarchies: the Beings belonging to the Angels, Archangels and Archai have always occupied themselves with man in so far as he goes through his existence between death and a new birth, but have also been occupied and concerned with him in so far as he goes through his existence here upon earth. In our age, however, this preoccupation with mankind has in a certain sense come to a conclusion. Among the many activities belonging to the beings of these three Hierarchies is this: to work together upon the pattern, or picture, which underlies the physical organization of earthly man. We enter physical existence, at birth and grow therein: the pattern or image of humanity is stamped upon us.

In the primal times of human evolution this picture was quite different and it has passed through many changes. We need only call to mind what appears when we look back into the Atlantean period or even into the Egyptian: men were different even in their outer structure. The pattern of humanity has altered and it was the task of these three Hierarchies to work at it, giving it first the form it had in Lemurian times, then the form for the Atlantean, and lastly that of the post­ Atlantean age. The Beings of these higher Hierarchies gradually came to the point where, through transformation of older forms, they brought forth the model which today under­lies the form of man.

Then is to be observed the peculiar fact, shown by true spiritual observation that, with the actual working out of this human model, the Beings of these three Hierarchies have essentially finished their task in our age. This picture of mankind, in so far as it underlies the physical organization of man, is really completed. Let this significant fact work on you—the Beings of the Hierarchy of Angeloi, Archangeloi and Archai have worked for thousands and thousands of years at the accomplishment of a picture as the basis on which man's physical organization has been achieved; and we live in the age in which these Beings of the higher Hierarchies say: we have laboured at the human picture, but we have finished; we have set man as physical man into this earthly world, and this part of our task is now completed.

If we survey this fact in spiritual vision, we shall feel with terrifying force that in these times the interest of the Beings of these three higher Hierarchies has not only waned—it has vanished as far as the production of the physical picture of man is concerned. Looking back into the Graeco-Latin age, we find that they had a lively interest in the bringing­forth of the picture of humanity on Earth. today they really have no further interest in it. They feel that they have finished their task and their interest from that point of view has disappeared. Men might see this as a very important fact, piercing deeply' into human nature, if they would only take time and trouble to observe even the outer facts of human evolution. In earlier times, as we can see from what has been handed down to us so that we are able to judge of it, certain thoughts rose up in people instinctively. Those in whom this happened we call “geniuses.” today at best we “believe” that such thoughts arise in some men. There is little “genius” on Earth now, for the forces of genius no longer arise from the bodily organization because the Beings of the three higher Hierarchies no longer work on it. They have lost their interest in the bodily formation of man.

It is because modern man is complete, with reference to the formation of his body, that he is in a certain respect so arrogant. There will be no further perfecting of the physical earthly form as man passes through the remainder of our Earth-evolution; the body itself can contribute nothing more to its own perfection. What had arisen in earlier times as instinctive originality and genius in man's soul had come from the body; at the same time, because it was the work of divine beings, it had an organizing power on the body. Homer's poems, for instance, possessed an organizing force which formed the Greek body. That which arose, with such concrete force, possessed at the same time a body-building power. What we moderns proudly exhibit as our “laws of nature” are in the main abstractions and have no formative force at all. We construct abstract thoughts, unable to govern social life, and abstract “laws of nature,” because the Beings of the higher Hierarchies no longer work upon us and we have no organizing thoughts arising within us. The being of our soul has become abstract, dwelling in us in such a way that, through the body itself, it is forsaken by the activity of the beings of the three higher Hierarchies.

The important thing now is to seek afresh, from ourselves outwards, the connection with the activity of these Beings. Hitherto they have approached us; they have worked on us. Now we must work for ourselves on the soul-spiritual that is in us. The result of that work, what we unveil out of the spiritual world through spiritual investigation, will become something in our human soul which will restore the interest of the Beings of the three higher Hierarchies. They will be in the thoughts and feelings belonging to us, which we acquire out of the spiritual world. In this way we shall once again link our own being to that of the higher Hierarchies.

So important is what is happening in our time that we must describe it as “a change in the attitude of the divine world to the human world.” Till now divine Beings have worked at the perfecting of the physical picture of humanity; man must now begin to work from his own soul-content, in order to find the way back to the higher Hierarchies. The difficulty of our time is that men are so proud of their external picture of a body, which has now reached its completion, and develop thoughts independently of the picture, thoughts having no connection with the spiritual world. Our real task, thus made so much the more difficult, is to seek this connection from out of ourselves, through devotion to spiritual know­ledge, sensitiveness to it, and a will obedient to it. We can only acquire a right attitude to our times if we have felt and experienced this great revolution, which, of course, lasts through centuries. Outer observations will not help, us to this attitude; today we must have the possibility of achieving it by an inner work on our own being. We have entered the period of the Consciousness Soul, and have passed out of that of the Intellectual Soul—which was the Graeco-Latin age. The Consciousness Soul must develop more and more in such a way that the Beings of the higher Hierarchies no longer work into man, for that would darken man's consciousness—but that he may consciously raise himself to them. Man's full clear day-consciousness is established when he works his way upward to the Beings of the higher Hierarchies. Spiritual Science is the beginning of such work, for it has not sprung from any arbitrary choice or caprice, but from the recognition of this revolution in our time.

But man must consciously develop many other things as well. He has always had to live according to karma, the great law of destiny; but he has not always possessed a knowledge of it. How amazing it was when, in Lessing's Education of the Human Race, the consciousness of repeated Earth-lives sprang forth from the new spiritual evolution! We are at the beginning of a time of change in man's relationship to his fellows—that is changed, even as is his relationship to the Beings of the three higher Hierarchies. The way in which human life was nurtured in the past does indeed extend into our own, time; but we would fail in our, duty to the present if we did not emphasize that new relations between human beings must now enter. It was of no moment in earlier times, when the duty was not yet laid upon man to develop consciousness embracing previous Earth-lives, that he should have, in contact with his fellows, no realization that they stood before him as souls which had lived in the spiritual world before birth, and before that in another Earth-life. Now it is of moment—the time is beginning when we may not leave this out of consideration. I will show this in a concrete case.

Among the things we have tried to set up as a part of the life of human society, is a school based on a real new spirit of humanity, the Waldorf School, in the first instance connected with the Waldorf Astoria Cigarette Factory. The opening ceremony took place last Sunday, 7th September 1919, preceded by a course for teachers which I ventured to hold. The important thing was to establish a pedagogy, an art of teaching and education which would take into account the fact that in a child a soul is growing, which has been through other earth-lives. Hitherto the teacher, however advanced in educational ideas, has felt no more than that he was dealing with the soul of a child, whose capacities it was his duty to develop, but he could only, more or less, take note of what could be perceived through the bodily nature. That will not be enough for the teacher of the future. He will need a fine feeling for what is developing in the growing child as a result of earlier earth-lives, and this comprehension will be the great achievement in the education of the future. A social attitude must be created, built up upon a spiritual relation to other men in the consciousness that when a fellow-man stands before us, we have to deal with a soul which has been through a previous incarnation. To hold the theory, of repeated earth-lives, based on intellectual philosophy, is not enough. The theory must become so practical that it forms the foundation of something like a real art of teaching and education. That is what first gives theory a living quality. It is natural that there is as yet very little willingness to receive such things and that the spiritual attitude of men who do realize the need of the times should be looked at askance. Further, it is necessary not merely to converse in terms of some sort of spiritual view of the world, but to establish institutions concretely and in the full light of knowledge, not only to profess some formula but to carry this knowledge right into the lives of men. Then that attitude will make itself evident as the foundation for a new pedagogy; the old times and the new meet in that phrase.

I have taken the trouble to find out a great deal about what is demanded in education on various sides. To give but one example: the question is often raised whether education should be more “formal” (classical) or “technical.” Should teaching be directed to fitting a pupil for this or that calling, so that he may be suited to serve the State or conduct other business; or should it aim at calling forth in him the common being of man and “developing what is universal in a humanistic sense?” All the arguments on the question are: simply words, words, because fundamentally what is said and what is the inwardly grasped truth have no correspondence at all. Is a man, then, anything but what he grows into? How is it, for instance, that men who follow certain callings in public life are fitted for them? It is due to the work of bygone generations; the public life of today is only the result of what they brought into being. How about the earlier teachers—did they educate “technically” not “formally?” Certainly not the latter. But it is all one and the same thing! Men dispute over things that are not really different. What is really important is this: that in the children of today we have the tendencies which will grow in the next generation and the one after that—which means that education is prophetic. “Technical” or “humanist” education are mere words. What matters is that we should educate prophetically, foreseeing the task of the next generation. That does concern the world, urgently.

“So difficult to understand,” people comment on all this! They must take the trouble to understand it, however, otherwise they will more and more fall out of the general evolution of the time—a momentous alternative, indeed! We must become conscious, in the most serious meaning of the word, of two necessities—first, the discovery of our connection with the activity of the Beings of the higher Hierarchies, and second, the establishment of a new relationship of man to man in the educational sphere. No longer must we contemplate mankind as simply the personalities standing before us, but as souls which have come over from earlier earth-conditions. We must keep that fact in our consciousness, but it is important to find a concrete relationship to the Spirit. Certainly what we know of karma, of repeated earth-lives and the constitution of man is a theoretic view of the world and mere theory will not carry us very far. Only when this theoretic view becomes “Life” is it what man needs for the immediate future—truths concerning the relation of man to the higher Hierarchies and about karma. A third thing may be added.

From my description in Knowledge of Higher Worlds you know that man, when he wishes to look into the spiritual world, must in some way pass through the experience, we call “the crossing of the Threshold.” It is described there by drawing attention to three forces of soul (or mind) in man, thinking, feeling and willing, and showing how the three, which in physical life work chaotically into each other, become ordered and self-dependent. This is the result of passing over the Threshold. In many ways the life-course of human evolution corresponds to that of the individual man, but not completely. This, the crossing of the Threshold, which a man must experience consciously if he wants to reach vision in the spiritual worlds, will be experienced unconsciously by the whole of humanity in this fifth post-Atlantean epoch. They have no choice, they go through it unconsciously—humanity, not the individual, but humanity in, general, and the individual together with the totality of human beings. What does that imply?

What now acts in man unitedly in thinking, feeling and willing, in the future will take on a separable character, and will assert itself in various fields. Man is just at the stage of passing unconsciously through a very significant gateway, easily perceived by the forces of seership. When a man goes through, this “crossing of the Threshold,” the spheres of thinking, feeling and willing fall apart. This imposes on us the obligation to shape the forms of external existence so that this revolution in our inner life may be carried through the external life as well. Since thought, feeling, and will, are to be more independent in the life of man, we must provide a basis on which that independence can be built up healthily. What has hitherto interacted chaotically in public life must be divided into three separate fields, those of economic life, political or juridical life, and the cultural or spiritual life. This demand for the “Threefold Order” is connected with the secret of man's development in this age.

Do not imagine that what is to become effective as the Threefold Social Order is a capricious, invention. It is born from the most intimate knowledge of human evolution, of what must come to pass if the aim of this evolution is not to be belied. The difficulty of finding an aim of a spiritual kind, of even admitting such aims, is one of the reasons for our having been involved in the terrible world­catastrophe of the last few years. From this chaos we must work our way out; the course of human evolution itself dictates that. For this reason, I think that the necessity for the Threefold Order will only be thoroughly recognized by those who start from an anthroposophical attitude, from knowledge of what is actually happening in human evolution. As yet there is no disposition to recognize such facts. Men like to attend to the problem immediately before them, to avoid involving themselves in aims of the deeper questions of existence.

This, it is which weighs so heavily on the heart of a man who can see into these secrets—humanity is little disposed to heed what is most necessary for it. Yet it is impossible to wish to remain stationary in the forms of ideas already expressed. We may say that all pessimism is wrong; but it does not, there­fore, follow that all optimism must be right. But it is right to appeal to the will. It is not a question of whether a thing happens this way or that, but that we use our forces of will in that direction where lies the true course of human evolution. Over and over again we must impress upon ourselves that; the old era is done with and that to reach a proper relation to the present we must close our account with the past. The new era will not allow us to reckon with it otherwise than spiritually. We dare not deceive ourselves into thinking it possible to carry over into the new what has been dear to us in the old; we must begin by turning to active new thoughts in outer life. Two paths stretch before man­kind. One leads through the “mechanization” of the spirit; very mechanical has the spirit become, especially as abstract “Laws of Nature,” which man has also carried over as laws governing social life. Mechanization of the spirit and “vegetization” of the soul. The plant-world sleeps; the human soul, too, tends to sleep. The most important events of the last years have literally been “slept through.” And the same thing is true of the important occurrences of today.

In Central Europe men have accepted the falsehoods told them from day to day about leading personalities in the world, and the same thing is being carried on now without their noticing it. They study the rate of exchange and find that the mark has fallen to 2.15 centimes, but I have not yet met anyone who sees the connection of the fall in the mark with other obvious events. Three syllables—I can only hint at them—would give the reason for the fall in the mark; but men's souls prefer to sleep, to sleep so soundly that in mid-Europe great disappointment has come over what we looked forward to with joyful anticipation. We were to have “double intelligence” in particular elections, because women were to take part in them. Then we had the “National Assembly”; but the intelligence, as compared with the old Reich­stag, was not double. We have seen the old parties continuing in existence at a time when they should have vanished, root and branch—and men have no inkling of what has happened, for their souls are asleep. Mechanization of the spirit, and souls as much awake as a cabbage [Vegetarisierung der Seelen]!

Look eastward. There we, see the active beginning of the “animalization” of bodies. The world of spirit is becoming mechanized in the American mechanical atmosphere, bodies are becoming animalized in the Bolshevism of the East. Criticism out of the emotions, comments on this and that; but what true life is, men will not grasp.

So humanity has its choice today—to go along the path which leads to mechanization of the spirit, plant-like sleep of the soul, and animalization of the body. Or to seek, on the other hand, to discover the way to the re-awakening of the spirit through the impulses corresponding to the age of the consciousness soul; to find the re-awakening of the spirit in the connection between the human soul and the activity of the higher Hierarchies, in the recognition of the fact that the soul comes forth from earlier earth-conditions, in the threefold ordering of social life. These things are all intimately bound up with each other. Those who are united in the movement we know as Anthroposophical Spiritual Science should feel themselves as a centre from which may radiate the force for this new social edifice. Much that comes from other sides for the reorganization of social life may be useful, but it must be worked on, for only spiritual impulses can bring genuine social transformation. The best understanding of these conditions should be expected from circles belonging to this Movement.

I have put before you some of the important things which may give you an idea of the necessities of our present age. I speak in these new rooms with the wish that in our work here we may always retain the consciousness of these truths, so important for human evolution. The more we carry such a consciousness into our anthroposophic work, the deeper is its consecration. And these rooms will be best consecrated through our feelings and perceptions, drawn forth from such deep sources of reality and truth.

In the last lecture the endeavour was made to show how necessary it is for men of the present day to turn the eye of the soul towards spiritual science, to those spheres of existence, of reality, in which the rule of the spirit within human evolution is clearly perceptible to anyone who has the faculty of sight in such regions.

As I said, the middle of the fifteenth century brought with it a complete change in the relation of civilized man's soul to the three Hierarchies next above man, the Angeloi, Archangeloi and Archai. Hitherto it has been out of their own interests and impulses that they worked in human evolution. In our times, this connection has come to an end. They have for the moment no interest in continuing to work as before on the evolution of man. They will only enter into a new relationship to us when human beings begin to develop an interest in the spiritual worlds, out of free will and of their own accord. If we would not lose all connection with the spiritual worlds, we must occupy ourselves with them in the near future, for the spiritual beings who have been connected with us so far have of themselves no reason to be further interested in us. We can only arouse their interest anew if out of our own souls we again concern ourselves with the spiritual world, fostering thoughts, sentiments, and impulses of will, into which spiritual forces can flow. The question may and must be asked, how can human beings manage so to concern themselves with the spiritual worlds as to maintain their connection with the higher Hierarchies as the Earth evolution proceeds. The answer may deal with things which apparently have little to do with the question; but we shall see that they do provide the foundation on which we can rebuild onwards into the future our, connection with the spiritual world.

The first thing which we must examine is the effect of the various confessions, the creeds, existing among civilized people. Hitherto they were necessary, to guide the heart and, mind to spiritual realms, but in future they will help to detach man from the spiritual world, unless they admit something entirely new into their efforts. Fundamentally speaking, the creeds of the present day are based on the egoism of man, as we shall realize if we put before our souls one question of such great importance that it forms, and always must form, a touchstone for their views, the question of the immortality of the human soul. We can see, from the way in which this question is generally handled by the creeds, that they appeal largely to man's egoistic instincts. Of course there are deeper foundations for their speech, but these we are not discussing today: as a rule the creeds speak of the “continued existence of the soul after death"—that is, the continuation of the life of the human soul.

To deal with the subject of immortality from this point of view is comparatively easy, for human egotism asserts itself there emphatically. Man simply cannot bear—apart from all truth about the question—the thought of utter extinction at death, so that a certain response is always to be found in man’s soul when "life after death" is mentioned. The treatment generally given today to the idea springs from an egoistic interest in people. They would prefer not to die as souls at physical death. Naturally, the soul's continued existence after death will be assumed in all our future discussions on immortality, but the way in which anthroposophical spiritual science speaks of the continued existence of the soul after death is very far from being accepted by the creeds.

But this also is important: that people of our day must hear a very different language about immortality from that to which they are accustomed. One who discusses the question of immortality should not only speak of life after death, but also of that life which is lived here in the physical world between birth and death. For as you know, this life is also a "continuation"; it is a continuation of the life passed between our last death and that birth through which we are now in the physical world. That is the view which men must learn to hold—that the life here is a continuation of the spiritual life before birth. In the growth of a child from day to day, from week to week, from year to year, we must notice forces from the spiritual world arising from its inner being, forces which have come with birth and work so as gradually to form the being of man as time goes by. In a sense we lift the veil of the God in man when we enter into the life of the child to develop it. Social relations must take on something of a religious impulse permeating the whole of life between man and man. For this the important, the essential thing is an attitude which never forgets that physical life is a continuation of a pre-natal life, of spirit and soul.

Many things will follow on this. For one thing we shall recognize that our real humanity lies in the depths of our being, gradually emerging. I have referred to ancient times of human evolution, known from an anthroposophical standpoint as the first and second post-Atlantean epochs. People in those days were as capable of development right into their old age as only the young are nowadays. A child goes through a physical evolution about its seventh year with the change of teeth; through another metamorphosis when puberty occurs; but after that what goes on in his evolution is outwardly less noticeable. In olden times this was not so; what man went through in soul and spirit expressed itself into much later stages of life. Nowadays old age sets in at seventeen or eighteen, and we are amazed at its evidences. Here is an example: a short time ago, in Stuttgart, at a meeting of the Cultural Committee where present-day education was discussed from the most varied points of view, a young man got up (let us call him "a young man" though he might equally well be called an "old boy"!) who told us we needed instructing about the true ideals of education! He began by uttering some very high-sounding words, then read out the programme of a modern Educational Society. After much stumbling he finally broke down, and, having no more to say, gathered up the threads with "I must there­fore claim to have proved that old age no longer understands its own youth," and went out. I replied that I quite saw we had not understood him, for the simple reason that his speech and behaviour had been those of an old man; he had in fact enunciated as principles, like an ancient grey-beard, the last word in abstractions. Old age, nowadays, means the limit up to which a man can develop. Up to a particular age a person can absorb all sorts of things, and is not ashamed to develop himself. But at about twenty years of age he feels shame at the idea of developing farther. Seldom nowadays do we find people with grey hair and wrinkles welcoming with joy the dawn of each year because each year brings new possibilities of development to the organism and new knowledge, unattainable before, is within reach. At the inconsiderable age of thirty men are ashamed to make themselves capable of development, or to learn anything more. The point is that we should actually retain the possibility, all through life, of rejoicing in the coming year, because each year charms forth the divine-spiritual content of our own inner being in ever new forms.

I want to emphasize this point. We should really and truly learn to experience our life as capable of development not only in youth, but through its whole span between birth and death. For this a new education will be necessary. We elders find that to look back at our own schooldays evokes few pleasant thoughts. We must manage to shape school­days for the children of today so that to remember them will provide an ever new and invigorating source of life. Now this will bring, as you can see, the possibility of opening for mankind real perception of the soul-spiritual within themselves, of experiencing something extending beyond the everyday life which is stirred and stimulated from without.

Other knowledge will be recognized as necessary. There is a secret, intimately connected with the present stage of human evolution, which is not known today. In earlier times, before the middle of the fifteenth century, it was not necessary to take much notice of it, but today it must be reckoned with. This mystery of life is that man, constituted as he is today in body, soul and spirit, every night looks, to a certain extent, at the events of the coming day, but without always carrying that vision over into full day-consciousness. It is his "Angel" who has that clear consciousness. But what is experienced at night in community with that being whom we call the Angel is a pre-vision of the coming day. This is no subject for human curiosity, but a matter for practical life. Only when the feeling of this fact fills our inner being can we make right decisions and bring right thoughts into the course of daily life. Let us assume that a man has something definite to do, say at noon. This that he has to do has already been arranged by his Angel and himself during the preceding night, though the fact is not necessarily kept in consciousness and human curiosity has no part in it. People should be filled with the conviction that during the day they should realize in a fruitful way what they have arranged at night in co-operation with this Angel being.

Much that has happened of late might draw men's attention with almost shattering force to what I have just said. The last four or five years of agony should have taught men that the consciousness of their association with higher beings through the experiences of the night did not, alas! exist. If the feeling had permeated men that their doings in the day were in harmony with the decisions made with their Angels in the preceding night, how different events would have been! These things must be spoken of now, to point out how man must learn to regard this life between birth and death as a continuation of the life of spirit and soul which was his before birth. It must be made known that man in future should be able to experience throughout his whole life the revelation of the Divine in his own being, and that through all his life in the day this vivid consciousness should persist as: "What I do from morning till evening I have discussed with my Angel, while I slept." Men must turn to feelings which are more concrete with regard to the spiritual world than the modern abstractions of various creeds, which at the same time claim that they appeal to unselfish, not to egoistic human instincts. From such feelings will arise that which will provide the necessary relation to the beings belonging to the Hierarchy of the Angels, who will once more be able to interest themselves on our behalf. Men's attitude to the spiritual world must move in this appointed direction.

Yet again we must observe something. The creeds speak much about "God" and "The Divine." What do they really mean? Surely something of which a vague conscious­ness, at least, exists in the soul of man. After all, it is not, what name is given to a thing that matters, but what it means to a man's soul. Men talk of “God" and of "Christ," but all the time they only mean the "Angel"—the Angel to which they turn because they meet a response in their souls. Whatever the creeds may speak of today, whether of God or Christ or other divine being, the substance of the thought only relates to the Angel Beings who are connected with man, the Angeloi. Higher it cannot rise, since people are disinclined to seek any wider relation to the spiritual world than an egoistic one. The relation to the Archangeloi, the Hierarchy of the Archangels, must indeed be sought in another way. Men's interests today must be considerably widened. I will show you how that extension must take place, so that from making response only to the Angeloi, they may rise in their feelings to the Archangeloi.

They must realize that they have passed through terrible experiences all over the civilized world during the last few years. Many have asked about the "causes" of, these events, with mutual imputations of "guilt " and " innocence ": yet we need only look below the mere surface of things and we shall have little interest in all this talk about “causes " and "war-guilt" or " innocence," simply because we can see that what has come up to the surface in these last four or five years is, like waves of the sea, always there, but brought up from the depths to the surface by the forces below. An upheaval of human forces had been going on; one people after another shared in the enormous folly of those years; one could but say: "Some turmoil of elemental forces is surging upwards into view. The sea of human life has become unquiet—What is it?"

We shall never get things clear if we do not connect this fact of humanity's unrest with the whole period we call "history." We must convince ourselves that the armed struggle of the last few years is only the beginning of events which will take place in quite other spheres, but which have never before existed among us in this particular form. We are not at the end of a stage of evolution—only superficial observation could lead to that conclusion—we stand at the beginning of the greatest conflicts, the greatest spiritual conflicts of the civilized world, and we must put forth our best efforts to be equal to them. Increasing opposition is threatened in the soul-attitude of East and West in the near future, for East and West have developed in two quite different directions. If we would see into these things, we must set before our­selves certain phenomena in their deepest, most fundamental form as riddles to be solved.

For decades we have heard repeated in socialist circles holding the Marxian theory, that everything man experiences as art, religion, custom, law or science is just "Ideology " (I have discussed this at greater length in the first chapter of The Threefold Commonwealth). This means that a view which had been developing amongst the middle classes for the last three or four hundred years, but which they were too timid to admit, has been frankly acknowledged by the socialists of the last half-century. They assert that the genuine reality of social life consists in actual happenings; therefore the real lies only in the economic forces. All conceptions of art, religion, custom, science, law, morality, merely form a kind of vapour rising from true reality, and are mere ideology, with nothing but a semblance of reality. The socialists conclude that it is only necessary to change economic life and all other changes will ensue, since everything else—morality, law, religion and so forth—is only an unreal vapour arising from the events in the economic sphere, which is the "only reality."

If, however, the world be considered in no restricted sense but as a great whole, we shall defend this word "ideology " which, but for their timid dislike of facts, the middle classes might have been using for three or four hundred years. They did feel that the economic life was the "only reality" and what displayed itself as science, art or religion was like a vapour; all life was based on this, and it was reserved for their pupils to carry their reasoning to its logical conclusion. Socialists are, after all, only extreme pupils of the middle-class world. This is the view which, forming in the West, reached its climax in the second half of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Other impulses have formed the Eastern view of the world, and an Oriental would say: "I look at what is going on in the external world: I see what my senses convey to me, what I use as an instrument for transforming the world around, what shines down on me from the stars, and what I myself am as to my bodily nature—what is it all? It is Maya! What then is reality, and not illusion? Only what is experienced in the human soul—that is reality!" One who does not translate in terms of a dictionary, but according to the inner meaning, knows that the words "Maya" in the East and "Ideology " in the West mean one and the same thing. For thousands of years the Oriental has regarded the outer world which affects the senses—including economics—as Maya. The Westerner, on the other hand, sees his reality in what for the Oriental is "Maya," and what arises in his soul is for him "Ideology." Both views of the world have developed to a certain point. Talk with the leading men in the socialist parties especially in those places where the first Revolution (known here as the "November " Revolution) has not yet taken place, and it is evident that this revolution altered their ideas somewhat, but not their feelings. You hear the same views as obtained right up to the war, that it is not necessary to con­tribute anything from the will towards trans­forming, revolutionizing the world, but that all that will happen of itself. Something fatalistic has appeared in the West. People are convinced that they need only wait until the means of production are sufficiently developed, and then by a natural metamorphosis all that is concentrated in private capital will pass over into other forms. Thinking of this sort is as sensible as saying: "This room is full of bad air. I cannot breathe. The window could be opened, but I am not going to open it; I am waiting until the air improves of itself."

Fatalism of the West, Fatalism of the East—we know them well. In the East, though not at the very beginning, men fell into complete fatalism, as the philosophy of Maya developed. Every world-philosophy has, in its inner law, the impulse towards fatalism at some time, but we stand today at a point where we must get rid of fatalism. We must pass from mere observation and contemplation to the exertion of will and intention. We must rouse our wills by developing impulses from the truths I have described regarding birth as a continuation of pre-natal life, remaining young notwithstanding white hair and wrinkles, the playing in of the nightly work of the Angel into daily life. Man needs to acquire impulses for his life of will by widening his sphere of interest, by seeing not only what touches his own personal life but what affects the civilized world in manifold forms. Look­ing at the West, to which we ourselves belong, we see the inner world as ideology, the outer world as reality: in the East, ideology, Maya, in the outer world, reality in the inner world alone.  In the interaction of human beings at the present time, we have the task of finding the way of escape from that aspect of these philosophies which has already turned to fatalism. We must look for this way, and we shall only find it if we are in earnest about something which annoys people terribly today.

There was a remarkable example of this once, when my hearers were greatly vexed by something I said in a lecture in a South German town, though it was a truth necessary for the present time. The context of my lecture necessitated the remark that the leading classes of the present day have a decadent physical brain. Such statements are unpleasant both to utter and to listen to, but it is necessary that people should realize this fact. The very people to whom the present con­figuration of our times is due have, in achieving it, acquired a decadent physical brain. It is so, and we are in one sense in the same case as were the people of Europe during the, great migrations and the spreading of Christianity. The Christian impulse came over from the East, by way of Greece and Rome. Naturally the Greek and Roman world was far more highly developed than the. German. The Germans were barbarians. But the brains of the Greeks and Romans were decadent, there­fore the surge of Christianity was not absorbed by them in the same way as it was when it reached the Germans. That is a migration of peoples which went horizontally. today it is "vertical." today a wave of spiritual life is coming from the spiritual world. Just as Christianity was at first reflected from the Greeks and Romans, so the spiritual world is reflected from the bourgeoisie today, and that is decadent. The proletariat are not so yet; they are still able to understand what is meant by the spiritual world. But the others will need preparation through anthroposophy, through that part of the brain which is not yet physical that is the etheric brain. We are at present confronted with the fact that the leading classes are not only menaced with a decadent brain, but with entire decadence, if they do not realize that they must grasp the spiritual view of the world by supersensible means.

The tragedy of the bourgeois system is that it would grasp everything "physically," whereas our task today is to grasp things with the etheric brain, to take spiritual truths into our being. Modern humanity must steer in this direction, and the West must take the lead. Here we must take into account some­thing very important.

Observe the development of language, passing from East to West. Take the German language, today dreadfully misused. If we look back at the language of Goethe, of Lessing, we can see that not so long ago in the very words, through their peculiar quality, it was possible to express what of spiritual life lay within them. today we have dreadfully neglected our language, degraded it into phrases only; but that it can no longer express spirituality is not due to the language alone. The farther West we go as regards language, the more we find in speech, with its tunes and sounds, even with its grammar, a complete rejection of what is really spiritual. From this rejection of the quality of soul and spirit from the Anglo-American idiom follows the mission of the Anglo-American peoples. Their world­ mission consists in this: in learning, maybe instinctively, yet still learning (as they listen to other men, in course of acquiring world dominion), not only to comprehend the sound, but to interpret the gesture of the language, to hear more than the mere physical sound, to hear something which passes from man to man in speech, going beyond the spoken word. That works from etheric body to etheric body. Here lies the secret of the Western languages, that in them the physical tone loses its significance, while the spiritual gains it. It is part of their task to let the spirit filter into speech, not merely to hear physically, but to hear intuitively more than passes over into the sound. In the West, the spiritual must be sought behind language itself.

If we look at the East, we shall notice an ever-increasing urge among the peoples who, as we have seen, sink themselves into their own inner being, not to be bound by the old forms of conception as to "Karma," " Reincarnation," and so forth, but to look out into the world, and in that outer world to perceive something spiritual, even to establish a sort of Philosophy of Nature.

These are only trivial instances through which we can widen our interests from our own personality and our nationality to take in the whole of humanity, saying to ourselves "Here in the West is Ideology, though quite another Ideology from the Eastern one," and seeing how elemental forces are stirred up within earthly humanity as a result, of these antitheses. We learn to take our stand within the whole civilized world, and when we develop such knowledge of our position within it at the same time we build in our souls the means of acquiring feelings which lead higher than the sphere of the Angeloi. Our interests will be so much extended that we shall incline to ideas which ascend to the sphere of the Archangeloi, for all that I have been saying about the opposition of Ideology-Maya, etc., works in its primal force in the sphere beyond that of the Angeloi. We can see from this what is really needful for modern humanity. What will the so-called clever people call anyone who speaks of these things—Maya, Ideology and so forth—as having primal forces which function in the sphere of the Archangeloi? Just a fool, quite naturally, since men are so hide-bound by their acquired spiritual outfit that they feel no concern in the wider interests of mankind. That can only be achieved from a spiritual standpoint, by penetrating into everything which works for the great interests of humanity.

I have given you an idea of how to work up into the sphere of the Archangeloi. It is possible to rise stilt higher, and present-day humanity must learn that also. Our educated classes have, always been taught to look back to Ancient Greece. Young men (and in recent times young women also) have had to go through a certain schooling to absorb Greek culture, and have thus acquired an impulse which was enough to lead them to feel more and more deeply into the Greek world. This has a great significance for our civilization, that in our most important years of development we have learnt what Greece accomplished for the world. The Greeks did otherwise; it never entered their heads to teach their children the Egyptian tongue: they occupied themselves with immediate reality, for which they possessed a clear, sense. We occupy our young people, not with instruction concerning their environment and the impulses of reality, but with those of an olden time. We have no idea what we are really doing. It is not only that we teach our young children (I suppose I should say our "young ladies " and "young gentlemen ") the Greek language: for in a language, in the configuration of its sounds and its grammar, lies also the character of a whole people. In absorbing the Greek language, as is done today, man acquires the same soul-attitude in the world as was held in Greece. There all cultural life was such that only a small top-stratum shared in the culture; the rest were slaves. In Greece no occupation was worthy of a free man but science, politics and—even then in a supervisory capacity agriculture: everything else was a matter for slaves. This is hidden in the language, and when we take Greek culture and language into our own spiritual education, we unite aristocracy with it at the same time. For the Greek it was quite natural to construct his whole social organism in accordance with his intellectual tendency, for in his case that was connected with his blood. There were the ordinary masses: then those people of a higher type, who possessed the higher life of the mind through their blood. This finds expression even in Greek sculpture. Compare the position of nose and ears in the Hermes-type with that of the Zeus- or Athene-type. The Greeks knew perfectly well what they wanted to express when they set the Hermes-type over against the Aryan Zeus-type.

We are permeated with all this more than we think. When we form our views of the world, we really construct ideas still suited to what in the Greeks came through the blood. Our intellectual, our cultural life is saturated with what we absorb from the Greeks. Hellenism intrudes into our times luciferically. Hellenism, in the period which immediately followed it, was metamorphosed into Roman­ism. Compared with the Greeks the Romans were dull, prosaic people, but they did develop other aspects of life. They lived out in an abstract fashion what came to the Greeks from the blood. Unlike the Greeks they made even man into an abstraction, a "citizen of the State." A man, in the Roman sense, is not really "man"; he is a citizen of the State: an incomprehensible thing to the Greeks. To be born a human being did not make him a man, but being registered in some kind of State archives. This sometimes appears today in grotesque fashion. I once had an old friend, sixty-four years of age; one day he said to me that he had saved such and such a sum—he had always been very poor—and that he wanted to marry the love of his youth. He had become engaged at eighteen, but had no money to marry, and the couple had vowed to wait until they could. He returned to his birthplace, now that the way was open, but found that the marriage could not, take place because his community doubted his existence. Years before, the parsonage, with all the parish registers, had been burned down and there was no one alive who could give evidence as to his identity. My friend assumed that his existence was proved by his presence, but he had no "legal evidence." It is true the marriage did eventually take place, but the difficulties had shown him the much greater importance of a "birth-certificate " than of his own personality.

Men then are "citizens." They are what they are in an abstract connection. This view is essentially Roman, as is everything of this sort which we come across in ordinary life. Our education has been taken in hand by the State, which is already abstract, but will become more so under socialist influence. People are not educated today to take their place in the world as free human beings, but to have a professional calling and take their place in that. The State takes young people in hand, not at once, for then they are too “shapeless," so it leaves them for a time to their parents, then, stretching out its talons, it trains them to be useful to it, taking good care that they are so. It gives them an economic life, gives them everything prescribed, and then pensions them off. It means a great deal when a man can assure himself of a pension as well as an income—something substantial, which binds him to the abstract State and affects the rest of his mental attitude. The Roman attitude has passed into men of other times. Say to a man today: "to partake of immortality needs an activity of soul, that thou thyself mayst carry thy soul wide awake through the gates of death"; he will not understand. He has been made wholly un­accustomed to direct his understanding to such a question. Instead of this he is told: "You need only believe in Christ and in what the State does." First he will be looked after by the State, with a pension when he has worked long enough then the Church goes one bit farther; it offers a pension for his soul after death, so that neither in his lifetime need he do anything for his own soul nor when he carries it through the gate of death: A man is "registered " nowadays, and the political essence of Rome, already taken into our own being, will increase.

All sorts of dreadful experiences are possible because of this. Helping with the institution of the Waldorf School at Stuttgart, I have had to look at the various School Regulations. Looking back, I must admit that in the 'seventies and 'eighties of last century, the regulations were very small: they included what had to be studied in each class, the aim and the subject matter being given, but in everything else the teacher was left quite free. Nowadays we get an enormous syllabus with "Official," "Ordinance," written on the first page, and specific instructions as to the manner of teaching. So that what should only work on one living personality from out of another, is set down in rules and orders; it has become "official," it is "decreed "! That is the death of mind and spirit, directly traceable from Central Europe to Ancient Rome. This is the second thing we have absorbed—with Romanism, the politico­legal element.

In addition to this, however, there is some­thing which could not be transplanted from the old life into the new—the economic life, which can only be modern. It is possible to chew the cud of Greek knowledge, to allow the Roman political ideas to influence us, but we cannot "eat" what the Greeks and Romans have eaten. Economic life must be modern. We have gradually woven into our economic life the Greek life of intellect and the Roman life of rights, and our task is to disentangle them again. To understand that these three strata brought out of different epochs have, as it were, been joined together and must be separated means to extend one's interest in time (as, in the East and West in space) down to the present; that means to make ourselves capable of feelings which can raise us to the Archai! How few develop an interest for these things, an impartial interest in how the Zeitgeist (Time-Spirit) acts by thrusting one period into another. I spoke at Stuttgart on the artificial nature of our classical education. It may have been mere coincidence that a few days after there appeared in the papers great announcements signed by all kinds of Zöpfen—professors—(I beg their pardon!) to the effect that a classical education should not be undervalued, seeing that it had contributed to the greatness of the German people, so gloriously displayed in the latter days. This, literally, was to be read as the alleged opinion of educationists in April, 1919—after what happened in October, 1918! And to think that this and other things should be possible in our times!

Unless we reach a stage at which we can see things so as to absorb the impulses which work into our physical world out of the spiritual—unless we realize that man, just as he is connected through his bodily organization with the animal, plant, and mineral kingdoms, is also connected in his spiritual organization with the Angeloi, Archangeloi and Archai (Angeloi as the guardians of personal development, Nation Spirits as guardians of development of peoples in space, Spirits of Time as guardians of development through­out the ages)—unless we can understand these things from their spiritual foundations, we can advance no farther. Everything depends on man having courage and force today to look into the spiritual world. We are at the beginning of a hard struggle, in which will be stirred up all the instincts spring­ing from the one half-truth that economic reality is the only reality, that everything belonging to soul and spirit is Ideology; and from the other half-truth that the only reality is the psychic spiritual, all outside it is Ideology, Maya. These contradictions will let loose in human nature such instincts that the spiritual conflict will blaze for long periods in forms of which people at present have no idea. We must grasp this; and, further, learn how we are to raise ourselves, in harmony with our time, to a view of the spiritual world as we conceive it. It is this which the times themselves ordain and demand; to this we must turn our attention.