The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Distinguished attendees! To the untrained eye, the circumstances of public life in the civilized world over the past 50 years have become unmistakable; their interrelationships have become difficult to grasp and confusing. The present misery has emerged from what might be called the great economic boom before 1914; the most complicated circumstances, caused by the most diverse facts, loom into our decline – facts that are in turn difficult to grasp. It is no wonder that the human being who must live in this decline, must work, must strive, feels from the depths of his soul the yearning for an ascent. But as understandable as this is, anyone who takes a deeper look at today's conditions must recognize that, in the present and in the near future, there is no way out of the decline to a recovery other than an understanding of the great tasks of the time, the great tasks of the time from certain sources, which cannot really be found within small areas. As well as I can in one evening, I will endeavor to try to offer some modest observations on some of these great tasks of our time – I would say that one can only do so in the face of these tasks.

It seems that if anything quite obviously indicates how we have to approach the great tasks, it is the great mistakes that have been made in this time. Two stages today characterize our entire public life in its immediate present development, and it seems to me that these stages point not only to external, economic conditions, but also to legal, moral and especially spiritual conditions within contemporary civilization. But when one names these two stages, Versailles, Spa and all that follows in their train, when one remembers all that they have brought us, then it becomes somewhat difficult to characterize them, because today one is suspected of striving for a certain objectivity. People's opinions are sharply opposed to each other: anyone who wants to judge the West as a member of Central European civilization can be quite sure that his objectivity will be very, very strongly doubted by Westerners. Therefore, I would prefer not to give my own opinion on what happened in Versailles, which is still a painful part of our present, but rather to follow the opinion of the Englishman John Maynard Keynes, who wrote the significant book “The Economic Consequences of the Peace”, which I have already referred to in my Stuttgart lectures from a different point of view than today.

Keynes was a person who, until a certain point in time, was present in an outstanding position at the negotiations in Versailles, and he judged [in his book] what happened and also what, in his opinion, should have happened. One might say that in three sentences he roughly summarizes the striking facts of Versailles that are so symptomatic of our present time. He, the Englishman, whom Lenin only recently called the “English philistine”, says quite simply: nothing, absolutely nothing of any magnitude has been achieved at Versailles by those who could claim to be the victors. What did Clemenceau do? He ruined Europe's economic resources and did nothing to rebuild the economy in France itself. What did Lloyd George do? He made a few deals that allowed him to shine in London for a short time. What did Wilson do? Wilson had good intentions regarding what was right and just – according to Keynes – but no way presented itself to him to somehow implement what he may have had in mind in a well-meaning way. The three most important men made the big mistakes of the time.

And now let us take a look at what has actually emerged for Germany from the terrible events that have taken place since 1914. I do not need to describe it to you. To the southeast of Germany, Czechoslovakia has become a relatively large empire. Born out of national aspirations, everything that rules there proves to be economically powerless in the face of the tasks that the economy in particular faces for these areas. To the north of it, Poland. Well, you only need to recall the last few weeks to see, on the one hand, how what has been formed there has only contributed to the unrest in Europe; and on the other hand, you only need to recall the perplexity of the leading European personalities in the face of what is seething and boiling there. One need only think of the “tragicomedy in the transformation of the view of the Polish ‘defeats’ to the Polish ‘victories’, how one was confronted without opinion, without great guidelines, today with this, tomorrow with the opposite. And if you go further east, it may seem today that Leninism and Trotskyism, especially when you add to that the devastating conditions in Italy, have no other guidelines than to develop, out of a phenomenal megalomania, all those forces that can serve to destroy what has been achieved by more recent civilization. The Germans of Austria are crushed, not to mention Hungary, where the sad spectacle is taking place that when members of the party that was at the helm until recently are led through the streets, bound and captured, they are then stabbed in the eyes with umbrellas by ladies in elegant, magnificent attire. This description could be continued for a long time, and one could see what has emerged for humanity from the circumstances since 1914.

And if we look at the ideas of those who are somehow active within this terrible decline – at the ideas of personalities who are often even capable of entertaining tragicomic illusions about an ascent that could be brought about by their intentions – we might be tempted to say: In the short-sighted, in the uncomprehending, that speech that Lenin delivered at the Second Congress of the Third International was monumental, where he once again, entirely in the old Marxist style, proved Western capitalism with all the banalities that have been heard so often. If one approaches what was said in this grandiose speech from a certain world-historical point of view, namely that capitalism, having developed into imperialism, tyrannizes over five-sevenths of humanity, then today, on the other hand, the question must be raised: What would have become of all of modern civilization if it had not been for the accumulation of capital? And should we not ask: Is it not self-evident, after all the forces that our modern times have brought forth, that such capital accumulation has also taken place for the sake of human progress? Can we still get by in today's collapsing world with such abstraction, which only proclaims the struggle in a very abstract form, or should we not ask: Is there not also something moral underlying our decline, especially when this note is struck? Do not perhaps precisely such fighters as Lenin confuse the harmfulness of capitalism in general with the kind of morality or, rather, immorality with which capitalism has operated? Can we not also trace this spiritual note in the effects of capitalism? And might we not arrive at deeper impulses than those which are constantly being declaimed today, and whose declamation has brought so little practical success for the better?

Now, one could say that the opposite view, which also comes from the Englishman Keynes, the harsh critic of the Western powers, is more indicative of today's intellectual, legal and economic situation. But that sounds somewhat different than Lenin's words. Keynes says, for example: Yes, terrible things happened in Versailles. Instead of doing something to build Europe, everything has been done to turn Europe into a heap of ruins of civilization; something terrible has happened, something worse will happen in the coming years. — I am quoting the sense, not the wording. And in an even stranger way, Keynes addresses some of the underlying mental states that have brought us into this present situation. It is interesting to see how this man, who sat through the negotiations led by Wilson, Clemenceau and Lloyd George for weeks on end, realizes what actually caused Wilson, who beguiled so many people with his abstract Fourteen Points, to fail so utterly. This becomes a significant problem for the Englishman Keynes, and something very strange comes to light.

Keynes constructs – as I said, from the way Wilson was sitting – how the others did everything to deceive him, to keep him from finding out what they actually want. It is a remarkable psychological event that Keynes describes and dissects, which, I would like to say, shines a deep and significant light on the whole cultural state of the present. Keynes obviously means: If one had told Wilson that France wanted the Germans of Austria to be prevented from uniting with the Germans of Germany, if one had said this clearly and distinctly, so that Wilson would have heard these words, his sense of justice would have risen up against it. Now, if you are going to visualize the struggle of such a dull mentality - if I may use this Entente word - you have to realize how Wilson feels - as Keynes does - if you now bring the following to mind as a spectator. Keynes says: Yes, the people around Clemenceau and Lloyd George did not say: “The Germans of Austria will not be allowed to unite with the Germans of Germany,” because Wilson would have rebelled against that; that is why they said: “The independence of German-Austria is to be guaranteed by a treaty with the Entente powers until the League of Nations pronounces otherwise.” Wilson understood that the independence and freedom of the Germans of Austria had to be guaranteed. If he had been told that they were forbidden to unite with the Germans of Germany, Wilson would have understood the same thing that he had otherwise understood as freedom and independence as the highest compulsion. If one had told him – as Keynes continues –: “Danzig shall become a Polish city”, he would have revolted against it; that quite obviously contradicts the Fourteen Points. So one told him: “Danzig shall become a free city, but all customs matters shall be handled from Poland, as shall the supervision of all transport matters, and the Poles shall become the protectors of the nationals living abroad. Oh, that sounded different from saying that Danzig should become a Polish city. And one can almost say: Yes, when it is said like that: 'Danzig should become a free city', then Wilson's dull mentality is inspired. But if he had been told that Danzig should become a Polish city, that would have contradicted Wilson's view that every nation should be led to freedom. And if one had told Wilson that the Entente was to supervise the German rivers, he would not have been able to agree to that; but instead one said: 'Navigation, where it passes through several states, is an international matter.' Wilson was satisfied with that again.

If you want to see what the great forces are that are moving the world today, you have to look at what is developing between the – I will speak in German now and translate the Entente word – “state of mind” of the leading personalities who have grown out of the previous circumstances. Is there still any honesty and sincerity there? Is there still any healthy sense and openness? The opposite is true, and what is more, it lives in such a way that one is still convinced of being an honest, open person, because what actually works has become an unconscious habit. How could Wilson actually be so deceived as he has been in this way, as I have just described it after Keynes? People who still cannot bring themselves to believe that an abstract, theorizing mind like Wilson's is a disaster for Europe sometimes say benevolent words like, “He, this Wilson, knew European conditions far too little.” Hypothetically admitted, although I do not admit it, Wilson knew European conditions far too little. But Wilson wrote a work on the state comprising almost 500 pages, in which he describes the conditions of the European states in great detail, the state and legal conditions and so on. So we are faced with the fact that either it is not true that Wilson did not know the European situation, or an influential contemporary figure writes a work on European conditions that is influential in America precisely because he is ignorant of those European conditions. The latter would cast a bright light on the superficiality of our time, on everything that draws only from the superficial spirit and does not delve into what lives in the deeper foundations of things as the real cause of the present events, the present developments and the whole evolution of humanity. But there is something much more significant behind what I have presented.

Many years ago, during a lecture series in Helsingfors – at a time when Wilson was revered everywhere because two significant literary works had been published by him – I drew attention to something that characterizes the whole nature of Wilson's state of mind. Wilson says, for example, that if you look at the time in which, for example, Newton, the great physicist, lived, you find that, as in the theory of constitutional law or in the thinking of those who reflect on economic and financial conditions, the same forms of thought and the same mental images are found for the economic and political conditions that Newton, the physicist, created for physicists. And now Wilson says: We must free ourselves from such a dependence of thought in relation to public, political or economic conditions; we must think today in terms of the organic about politics, about the world economy and so on. And now he develops a kind of political idea, of which one must say: Just as those whom he criticizes for being dependent on Newton in their time, so he is entirely a copycat of Darwinism and thinks Darwinian as a politician, as an economist, and as a legal expert, just as those whom he criticizes thought in a Newtonian way. Darwin is fashionable – so Wilson, the world reformer, thinks Darwinian. But I said at the time: We are now in such a time that we must no longer allow ourselves to be blinded to the real conditions of public life by what comes to us from the natural sciences. What comes to us from the natural sciences – I have often said it here – is quite excellently suited to precisely explore the surface of things; but what ideas want to form about human action, about human coexistence, must go into deeper world reasons than natural science even needs. And that is why – I said – the dangerous thing in our time is precisely a way of thinking like that of Woodrow Wilson.

That was long before the war, at a time when Wilson was still being glorified as a world hero for a long time to come. What matters today, namely, is to avert one's gaze from everything that only holds people to the superficial. It is necessary to be able to sharpen one's gaze into the deeper reasons for becoming and happening. But, esteemed attendees, that is what the school of thought that, like science, approaches the spiritual and soul life in man from a scientific spirit is trying to do. It is the anthroposophically oriented spiritual science that I have been representing here in my lectures in Stuttgart for almost two decades now, and more and more every year.

What must be striven for in our spiritual life in terms of the spiritual science that is meant here? I will only briefly indicate that this spiritual science does not arrive at its results in an external way, but rather through the fact that the human being first performs certain exercises, which are intellectual in nature. Time and again, the human being must say to himself what I characterized as a comparison in one of my last lectures here. I said: If a five-year-old child picks up a volume of Goethe's poetry, he will not be able to do anything with it, he will in any case do something completely different with it than what the volume of poetry by Goethe is intended for. But if he is ten years older, he will have gone through a development and reached a level of maturity by which time he will know what to do with this volume of poetry. The spiritual researcher referred to here says: With the form of consciousness that we use in ordinary life and that we also apply in conventional science, we face the higher world forces as a five-year-old child faces a volume of Goethe's poetry. Thus, forces slumber in every human being that he can develop within himself and that then show him a different, a spiritual, understanding of the world. Above all, they show him that although scientific thinking is a magnificent way to explore the surface of things, and that in this respect science has justly achieved the greatest triumphs, They show him that we cannot, however, understand natural things that play a role in human activity with the scientific way of thinking, if we do not resort to methods and ways of thinking that are permeated by the spirit and with which we can also grasp the human being and the forces within him in a thoroughly scientific way. But then we come from such a grasp of the human being to a completely different grasp of the world than through the conventional spiritual life in which we are immersed today. In the face of this conventional spiritual life, one would like to recall a word spoken by Hölderlin that cuts deep into the heart, when his mind was still bright, not yet clouded, but was finely sensitive to what was present in his cultural environment. Hölderlin, who had immersed himself in the harmonious humanity of ancient Greece and had grown fond of it, looked at the people around him, exaggerating to some extent, as a mind of his calibre would do in his time, and characterized them as follows, comparing them to the Greeks. He said: “Do people live among us ordinary Germans? I see no human beings around me, as the Greeks were; I see officials, teachers, professors, but no human beings; I see lawyers, artists and scholars, but no human beings; I see young and mature people around me, but no human beings; what I miss in my environment is the whole, full, developed humanity that can also gain a harmonious relationship with the universe. Such humanity also lived consciously and unconsciously, sensually and supernaturally in Goethe, and what Goethe himself valued even higher than his poetry — although it was then so little understood after Goethe: his scientific creations. In these lines of scientific thought, Goethe's physicist does not live one-sidedly when he presents a theory of colors, nor does his botanist live one-sidedly when he describes plants, nor does his anatomist live one-sidedly when he characterizes human bones. but in this way of thinking the whole human being lives always and in everything; and the whole human being grasps in the individual parts of nature that which can only be revealed when one experiences it in its effect on all of humanity within oneself.

Over time, this thinking was increasingly confronted with something that has been praised so much, but also occasionally criticized: specialization in all areas of life, the kind of specialization that has found its way into our higher knowledge in particular and has had an impact on it, for example, all the way down to primary school education. This specialization made man a physicist, a botanist, a lawyer, a professor, a teacher, and so on, but it drove out the human being. And we must ask ourselves: Is it really a furthering of knowledge itself, when this knowledge has developed in such a way in modern times that the knowledge that led to a world view has split into those small portions, from which one has lost the human element and can no longer keep an eye on the world? Again and again, a few influential personalities were portrayed as if they were knowledge itself. But anyone who can see into the development of modern times will find that this is not the case. He sees that knowledge and the striving for the abstract unified state, as it has developed over the last three to four centuries throughout the civilized world. He sees that the unitary state, which absorbed everything that we today want to re-organize through the impulse of the threefold social organism, that this unitary state, with its mixing of spiritual, legal and economic life into one fabric, made physicists and chemists, professors and teachers, in short, specialized people, and it was with these that it had to fill its positions if it followed its principles. It was this unified state that sucked the fullness of humanity out of people. This fullness of humanity lived so powerfully in Goethe and was so longed for by Hölderlin for his Germans. It is spiritual science that wants to give this fullness of humanity back to today's humanity, because only from this fullness of humanity can come what is at the same time knowledge, what is feeling with all humanity, what is real right and at the same time reasonable economic life.

If one proceeds according to the methods of spiritual research, one does not get a superficial view of something concocted from the individual disciplines, but one gets fully living spiritual knowledge. But this is like a light that can be cast on the individual areas. And with it one gets the possibility again to place the human being above the specialists; one gets the possibility to put the human being first and the social structure afterwards - and not the other way around, to put the social structure first and only then the human being, and thereby let him wither away into a system template. Because spiritual science is something that really comes from the fullness of the human being, but that must first be gained through spiritual research, that is why it can also have a fertilizing effect on what is fragmented in the world. Fragmented in the world, for example, is our present-day jurisprudence, the individual branches of our present-day economic life - everything is fragmented.

Those who have heard me speak at length and are able to grasp the actual meaning of what I have said know that I do not say such things out of immodesty or silliness. But I may well point out that in February, in Dornach, before an audience of more than thirty medical specialists, I attempted to present the therapeutic element of medicine from a spiritual-scientific understanding of the nature of the human being in such a way that one could really arrive at a genuine therapy that goes straight to the human core. In this single case I have tried to show how a central view of the nature of the natural, soul and spiritual can have a fruitful effect on a single science. And anyone who now considers the social effect of the striving of personalities imbued with our knowledge will reflect on the significance of what I have said.

ar A It is one thing for a physician to be educated in a closed circle and unable to see beyond the boundaries of his science, and quite another for him to grasp his science in such a way that it becomes a light for everything physical, mental and spiritual in the human being and that he thereby also acquires a true sense for all social interaction and coexistence of people and thus, from his art of healing, gains a living, fruitful judgment on the treatment of major social issues.

This fall, beginning on September 26, more than twenty individuals who have immersed themselves in the anthroposophically oriented spiritual science referred to here will give a course of nine lectures at the School for Spiritual Science in Dornach. We have, of course, established our School of Spiritual Science in Dornach, which we cannot open because it is not yet ready, but we will hold these School of Spiritual Science courses at the unopened Dornach School from September 26 to October 16. Personalities from the fields of physics, chemistry, political science, economics and history, practitioners who are involved in life, in the factory or otherwise in life, artistic personalities from all fields, they will first show in this trial course how what specializes [in individual fields] is illuminated by the living spiritual , such a light is shed on these sciences that they are no longer something theoretical - not something one acquires and then has to peel off again for the most part in order to stand in one corner of life and see nothing but one's own specialization. No, it is shown how, through this enlivening of knowledge, which can arise from spiritual science, specialization is overcome, and how, through the new spirit, through a spirit that is just as strictly scientific as the one cultivated at universities today, yes, 'strictly strict science', how this spirit brings together specialists so that they will not go their lonely but humanity-damaging ways in mutual misunderstanding, but will work together socially and be able to help our ailing time to rise again.

These School of Spiritual Science lectures are held at our Goetheanum in Dornach, where every detail seeks to express the style, the architectural, sculptural and pictorial style, that arises out of the artistic aspect of our spiritual science, out of the whole of our intuitive perception. Everything, down to this framing, should act as a symbol, as it were, for what is to happen, what must happen, from the spiritual side. For it must be the spirit that, following its true threads, comes back to the truth, to a truth from which goodness, morality and healthy, strong will follow. This does not arise from superficial knowledge; it arises from deep spiritual knowledge. And I hope that our Dornach lectures will show much more than mere characterizations can express, how the forces to build up our languishing civilization should be sought from the spirit. We do not want to refute such arguments [about the decline of the West] logically, as I characterized them here last time, but through action we want to create that which can be set against the forces of decline. And I am convinced that we would truly not be able to accommodate all the listeners who would come to Dornach and its wider surroundings today - who will hopefully come in large numbers despite the drowsiness of souls today - if the communication difficulties arising from our decline were not so insurmountable.

If I may refer to something closer to home, I would like to return to what our Waldorf School is meant to achieve here. This Waldorf School, which we opened today for the second school year, we described here some time ago with reference to its successes in the first school year. It is exactly what it has become – it could not have become more in its first year – having become what it is because our teachers were inspired and imbued with those feelings towards the developing human being, the child – emotions that come from the research of spiritual science, that spiritual science that must indeed, with regard to certain spiritual things, behave in a completely different way than many people assume with regard to these same things.

We have, of course, confessions in our time that speak about the eternal in man. What have all these confessions come to? If one can really look at the world impartially and listen to everything that is said in sermons or theologies today about the eternal in the human soul, then it is not an appeal to the urge for knowledge, but basically it is an appeal to the finer instincts of the soul. Those who have often heard my lectures will know the foundations on which the spiritual science referred to here speaks of the immortality of man, how it makes certain statements about what man becomes when he has passed through the gate of death and shed his physical body. But the basis of this discussion is different from what has been customary in Western civilization for centuries. What is it that this Western civilization appeals to again and again? The finer instincts of the soul; people do not want their entire being to cease to be when their body decays into dust. This is the human desire for eternity. And I ask you to go through everything that is offered in this direction in traditional confessions, sermons and theologies: it is the appeal to this human egoism, not wanting to die. And because it is only this appeal to egoism, it is even conveniently separated for life: knowledge for the world of sense, and faith for the supersensible world. Naturally one can only speak of the instincts under discussion here if, with regard to the eternal in man, one arrives only at a belief and not at knowledge. But when we investigate the human being by means of spiritual science methods, which are not easier than chemical or astronomical methods, but essentially more difficult (for more details see my books “How to Know Higher Worlds” or “Occult Science: An Outline” and others), then we come not only to speak of immortality, that is, of the forms that the human soul and spirit takes after death, but one then comes to look at what the human being was before birth or conception, before he descended as a spiritual being from the spiritual world into the physical world through birth and assumed a physical body through descent from father and mother. This can become knowledge, but it is knowledge of such inner power that it flashes through our entire being.

If we approach the child as educators with such knowledge, we look at the child quite differently. Then we know something of how the soul and spirit form the human body from the deepest human depths, how the physiognomy and skills that arise from year to year are formed in the body out of the soul and spirit. As a teacher and educator, you develop a feeling without which there can be no fruitful education: the feeling that everything you come into contact with through the human body comes from spiritual worlds. It has been entrusted to you; the gods have sent it down to you. You stand before it with holy reverence.

Dear attendees, just as there are forces that can only be explored through their effects in the external, physical world, for example electricity or magnetism, so does what one acquires as a teacher or educator, as reverence, act as an imponderable force, as something that one only

a en learn to believe when one beholds its effects, when one sees how that which radiates from such sacred reverence for the teacher is something that surrounds the child's spiritual and soul growth just as sunlight surrounds the plant to make it flourish and thrive. A pedagogy that is based on the full human being, that is carried by feelings and perceptions, but by a perception that sees through world and human conditions, a pedagogy that naturally becomes art, that does not talk abstractly about education, it is a pedagogy of this kind that may aspire to make of the generation that will be decisive for the coming decades that which can lead out of our decline towards an ascent. And we can say: What anthroposophically oriented spiritual science has been able to achieve through our teachers has, after all, borne fruit in the first school year.

Only one thing stands ghostly before the mind's eye of the one whose whole heart and mind is with this Waldorf school, especially today, when we have opened the second school year. Out of the spirit we could bring Waldorf education to life through Waldorf education; in this way, one of the great tasks of our time would be solved step by step in practice, not in theory. But we need understanding, understanding in the broadest sense. We may hope that the spirit will continue to support us in our endeavors, because in a certain way it depends on us. But we need understanding, because the buildings in which the school is held are to be built; the teachers are to live in homes, and they are also to eat. All this is necessary. And already the spectre of destitution for such things and for what is behind it, of the lack of understanding of the broadest circles for what belongs to the great tasks of our time, stands before our soul and impairs what we would like to do for the second school year, especially in these days. So what is needed today for the great tasks of the time is understanding in the broadest sense. Many people have idealism, which says: ideals are lofty, it is not dignified to associate them with the material circumstances of the day, because the material world is something base; ideals are lofty, they must find their own way. Therefore, we keep our hands on our wallets and no longer spend anything on our ideals, because why should we give up dirty money, which is not worthy of serving ideals, for our ideals? That may sound trivial, but if you want to do something necessary for the Waldorf school in our days, then it may be said in this case. Today, idealism often expresses itself more through enthusiasm to hold together the material world and to cultivate the ideal in it.

I could now describe something to you that is related to something very new in our spiritual life. For a long time now, we have lost precisely that direction and current of our spiritual life that looks at what I want to characterize, at the prenatal human being. Even the language testifies to it: when we speak of the eternal in man, what do we say? Immortality. - We thus point only to the one end of life, which human egoism also looks at. We have no word for the other: one would have to say “unbornness,” for just as little as we lose our eternal being when we discard the body, we did not receive it with birth either. And when we speak of the eternal in man, we must speak of unbornness as well as of immortality. We do not even suspect what we lack in this direction. What we hope for after death inspires us little for action. But when we know what lives in us, what lives in us as having descended from the spiritual worlds, even if only in a reflection of the spiritual world, then we can say that we feel ourselves to be - I would like to use the word - missionaries of the spiritual world. Our feelings are stirred and our actions inspired by our earthly work, and this is what our task as human beings in earthly existence is. We have to draw strength from the spirit in order to truly penetrate into something like this, which is our task as human beings in earthly existence; for this it is not enough to stick only to the nearest districts of what surrounds us in life. We must look at what surrounds us in the spiritual life, what lives in us inwardly as the spiritual and permeates all life down to the economic. In this respect, people indulge in the strangest illusions.

Anyone with a sense of reality who follows the historical course of humanity will see that they must look for the actual sources of the somewhat more distant spiritual impulses in human life over in the Orient - although not in today's Orient, because today's Orient is in a state of decadence in this regard. What the source of this very special spiritual life is, as I described in that lecture, which I gave on the historical development of mankind, lived in the Orient thousands of years ago. There lived a race of men who understood nothing of what we call 'deductive' or 'logical thinking' — a race of men who, from the same sources that the spiritual science meant here, but in a different way, in a Western way, once knew that something could live in the soul of man that reveals to him the spirit that permeates the world. But it is not in the East that we find a knowledge of the spirit that is not based on proof or reasoning. Today, if we do not want to become antiquated, we can no longer penetrate this oriental spiritual life, but something of it still lives in our ordinary intellectual education. There is a direct line from the spirit that shone in the Vedas, in the Vedanta philosophy, in the ancient Indian yoga system, which itself lived in the Chaldean teachings and in ancient China. It is a direct line that moved in many currents through many channels to the Occident. And in our everyday thinking, we still have traces of that oriental spiritual life before us. Even when the Mystery of Golgotha entered into the development of mankind, when it became necessary to understand Christ Jesus, it was Oriental wisdom that sought to comprehend this event, which could only be grasped through supersensible knowledge. It was Oriental wisdom that was then transformed into the teaching of Christianity and spread with Christianity throughout the Occident. In this Oriental wisdom lives something that today's man can no longer feel and sense in the right way, for which he needs a support. What was present in the original soul life of the Oriental had to be anchored in the West - for centuries already - in dogmatically cohesive religious communities; because the inner source of spiritual life no longer flows in the same way, that is why man needed such religious communities. This is what initially extends into our public life like a first branch - a branch that still has the Orient as its “lifeblood”. And if one were to look at our spiritual life with an open mind, one would still discover effects of what originated in the Orient in what modern man thinks, feels and senses and what lives even in the sciences, right down to physics, but above all in religious beliefs.

In addition to this peculiar oriental spirit, which is little understood today in its entirety and which permeates the West in its own unique way, there was another school of thought that came more from the south and poured into Central Europe, but also fertilized the west. It came from what I would like to call, in a comprehensive sense, legal, state and political thinking. In the wonderful Greek civilization we see a remarkable mixture of what came from the East and still lived in the Greek people, as it had come from the Egyptians, and the now already legal thinking that was not yet fully revealed in Greece, which brought the peculiar evidential way into the imagination of man. In Greece, we see life only sparsely permeated by logical, legal, and state thinking, which was not present at all in the Orient. If, for example, there were commandments in the Orient, they were something quite different there from the commandments in the Occident. We then see the legal spirit essentially absorbed in ancient Rome. We see how there the process of proving, of reasoning, of combining and separating concepts is developed into a special art. We see how a second element is mixed into what flows from the Orient, how the legal and political current pours into the spiritual current, the “state machine”. And we see even the spiritual-religious, the spiritual-scholastic, permeated by this legal element. It would have been quite impossible for the Oriental to think of something like “guilt and atonement” or “redemption” in the original thought of his world view instead of the concept of “karma”. What lived in the Orient in “karma”, in the fate of the world, was something quite different. But then the legal element began to make itself felt in the world view, and it even found its way into the religious conception of the world. At the turn of the ages, man was thought of differently from the way he was in the Orient. Now he was thought of in such a way that he was “judged” by the world judges because he had incurred “guilt”. In the Orient, people spoke only of “guilt” and “judgment”. In the Occident, even the religious element has been infiltrated by the legal-evidential, the divisive-judgmental. And when we go, for example, to the Sistine Chapel in Rome and see the painting by Michelangelo, 'Christ as Judge of the World', where he judges the good and the bad, we see even there the legal, world-political spirit carried into the religious world view. This is the second branch of our civilization, which still has an effect in Fichte and Hegel and which imbues everything that is still emerging in German intellectual life at the turn of the 18th to 19th century. It is not without reason that Fichte and Hegel started their thinking precisely from the roots of right, from the political and state conditions, and the way in which these minds conceive the development of humanity is to be understood in an “emphatic of the state” sense, in contrast to earlier times.

Only in more recent times did a third current join this second one, which developed in the West out of the Western peoples' dispositions and instincts. In the East, in the times when the East was great, nature provided what man needed in such a way that he undertook the distribution of natural products as well as the distribution of what man produced out of his spiritual life. There was no economic thinking, there was not even any legal thinking. If we go back to the 18th century, we find little economic thinking in Central Europe. But we find everything dominated by an increasingly intense legal thinking, by a state-oriented, political thinking. In the West, economic thinking had developed long ago, and it developed more and more out of people's natural instincts and abilities. Circumstances developed in such a way that where people think in a truly “western” way, economic thinking is now also applied to what was previously grasped from the point of view of logic - to science, to truth. It came from America. There they have the doctrine of pragmatism, which roughly says: “True” and “false” is something that is only an illusion; we have taken that from the legal world view. Our view is this: if something proves useful in practical life, then it is right, it is true, and everything that does not prove useful is harmful, is false. According to this view of life, everything is judged only by whether it is “useful” or “harmful”. These ideas have become part of human thought and are also alive in philosophers. Yes, if, for example, one wants to understand Herbert Spencer and other philosophers correctly, one understands them only if one says to oneself: This Herbert Spencer devises philosophical systems, but he has ideas that, as such, are only in the wrong place; instead of devising philosophical systems, he should build factories with his way of thinking, set up trade unions and help the economy on its feet; his ideas are useful for this, but not in the philosophical field.

If we follow the path our humanity has taken in its historical development, we see that first a spiritual life develops, which points back to a heritage from earlier millennia in later times. Then, little by little, a state and political life, a legal way of thinking, develops. Later, the economic life develops alongside this, and this life develops in a differentiated way across the earth. But as we approach the modern age, we see how the spiritual life that came from the East has died out. The dry, pedantic and philistine nature of today's education and upbringing stems in particular from the withering away of that ancient spiritual heritage. But this also points with all vividness to the fact that we should not migrate back to the Orient, but must develop a free and original spiritual life through ourselves again, by opening the sources of this spiritual life for ourselves. The old inheritance is at an end. Our time demands a new spiritual life, and spiritual science now wants to proclaim this from Dornach. With this new spiritual life, it will permeate education, and through something like the Waldorf School, it wants to make it fruitful for modern life.

But there is also little left today for the old legal spirit. I advise you to read characteristic, symptomatic phenomena of the present day, such as the little booklet on jurisprudence by the Mannheim teacher Rumpf, and you will see that Just as religious worldviews today have to rely on outward appearances because the inner life no longer bubbles up, so jurisprudence and political science borrow from economic conditions because they no longer have anything that bubbles up from the inner life. Thus we see that today a mixture of economic thinking and legal thinking is coming about, which spreads chaos over our lives. And anyone who sees through things knows how much of this chaotic confusion has penetrated into the sphere of our public life, and how this is then expressed in deeds, causing social upheaval, social confusion and turmoil. We can only move forward if we seek a new spiritual life in the way I have described. The old spiritual life has passed away as an inheritance. But we will only find the new spiritual life if we do not hand over the school to the state, if we set up the whole spiritual life on its own, because then alone we can lift the spiritual life out of what it is now. When a human being steps down from spiritual heights into the physical world, he brings with him a new, real spiritual element for each generation from his human individuality and personality. We do not want to dictate to people that they must develop according to these or those rules, but we want to let this real spiritual element develop powerfully through love from the teacher to the child. This spiritual life can only be administered by those who are active in it. A new spiritual life will reintroduce the living spirit, which our social life so urgently needs, into the present; it will make fruitful for human coexistence the deep source that man brings with him when he enters physical existence through birth. This is one of the great tasks of our time.

A second task is how we can once again develop a living sense of duty in the social community, through the living interaction between individuals in the democratic structure of the state – not by regurgitating old Roman or old concepts in general, but by original thought. No law dictated from above will ever develop a sense of duty. Only that right which arises between equals, between one mature human and another mature human in lively intercourse, only this right will also make people keen to work, and this right will have to incorporate the [regulation of] labor.

The spiritual life, as I understand it, is described in my “Key Points of the Social Question” in such a way that it must become the regulator of capital. Then the accumulation of capital or means of production, which is necessary for more recent development, will, through the spirit – which will illuminate it when the spirit is formed anew in its freedom, in its fertility, in its progress from generation to generation – then capital will also carry within itself, through the spirit, what, for example, Keynes and others miss: morality. And then, economic life will not be characterized by a capitalism based on egoism and mere self-acquisition; instead, it will be imbued with spirituality, arising from an understanding of the necessities of the world and of humanity and of existence, and it will work in the spirit of the people educated in the new spiritual life. Then labor will no longer be a commodity, but will be incorporated into the independent, self-developing constitutional state; then, in the social fabric in which the mature human being works with every other mature human being on the basis of equal rights, labor will come into its own. And only from the feeling for our duty to work in freedom can arise the upswing in our lives, not from the demand for barracking and duty, which must stifle every sense of justice in man. From an independent spiritual life, from an independent legal life, one must grasp the great tasks of our time.

If we look at economic life, we see that if we separate out everything that is in it today and needs to be separated out – the right to land, because that belongs in the constitutional state, labor, which is paid for like a commodity today, because it belongs in the legal state, and means of production, insofar as they can be capitalized, because they belong in the spiritual link of the social organism. If we take all this out of economic life, what remains is the production and consumption of goods. A product of human labor, a commodity is not only concerned with one person; a commodity passes from one person to another. Not only does the person who produces the commodity and has experience in its production have something to say about it, but so does the person who creates the conditions of exchange for the thing or who has to decide on the needs. Thus, many different kinds of people are involved in economic life, and everything in economic life is a commodity. If we have, on the one hand, the administration of capital in the spiritual element and the administration of labor in the legal element, then what remains for the administration of economic life is the only thing that is justified: the price level, the mutual price value of the goods. But if it is to be carried up from chance to reason, it can only be determined through associations. The various groups of people who, from the point of view that I have characterized, have to do with a product, must be summarized in associations; because people have to do with the product from different starting points in order to determine the price of one product in relation to the other, so that money can only be the external indicator of the value of the product. It is only through associations of economic life that it is possible to arrive at the true price of a product for economic life - that is what matters. And this cannot be determined by dictates and so on, but only by the experiences that are made from association to association.

If, for example, a person is employed in a particular branch of industry and works in it, the price of his product of labor must be set so that it is not too expensive and not too cheap. So if I make a pair of boots, when I have finished them I must get so much in the way of sundry goods for what I get for them that I can satisfy my needs and those of my family with them until I have finished another pair of boots. This cannot be calculated, it can only be experienced in the living interaction of associations. In order to understand that the price problem is at the center of the whole economic life, a more precise study of the “key points” and those writings that point to them will be necessary, especially for example my essays in the Dreigliederungs-Zeitung, which will soon be published in a collection by the publishing house of Kommenden Tages. There you can see what we need to get the spirit back that we need for our ascent.

To solve this one great task of the present, we must have a new spiritual life to cultivate individuality; we must bring out human self-importance and human abilities, which can only be properly placed in a human context through a proper understanding of human personality and human individuality. In order to bring intellectual life into effect in the right way, we need the self-contained – not the intellectual life encompassing, but letting it out of itself – state or legal life or political life in its parliamentary structure; this can never be in intellectual life or in economic life. Morality and mutual assistance can then be produced from this again, in other words, everything that must take place between all people in order for a dignified existence to be possible. And in economic life, we need to solve the price problems as a major task of the present. We can only solve them if we first base economic life on itself, on the basis of association.

And we can only move forward if we allow these three independent links to interact in a certain free way and do not fear any possible “division” or “cutting up” of these three links. One need only reflect a little on the human organism to lose this fear. In my book 'Von Seelenrätseln' (Soul Mysteries) I indicated how the human organism also consists of three independent members: the nervous-sensory activity, the rhythmic activity and the metabolic activity. The entire function of human life is structured from these three activities as activities. Just as one cannot breathe with one's eyes or see with one's lungs, so the state should not determine spiritual life, nor should spiritual life interfere with legal life. And just as one cannot think with one's stomach, so one should not dictate politics or determine rights from the economic point of view. And just as the lungs breathe, the head sees and thinks, and the stomach digests, so the three independent limbs of the human organism work together in unity; this unity does not exist in the abstract, but arises as a living unity from the three independent limbs.

In the same way the true unity of the social organism will come into being when we grasp the three great tasks of the present time in the life of the spirit, in the life of the right and in the life of the economy. These three great tasks are certainly utopian for many people. But even for the people of the 1830s, what developed in Central Europe from 1870 to 1913 would have been utopian in purely economic terms. If we just think that in 1870, 30 million tons of coal were mined and processed in Germany, whereas in 1913, 190 million tons were mined and processed — truly, for a person in the 1930s, that would have been a utopia if one had spoken of such a surge in coal mining and processing at the time. We should not be afraid of being accused of utopianism or fantasy. Even if what is presented as a threefold order cannot be realized immediately, we should remember a saying of Fichte's, spoken to his audience when he was talking about the nature and destiny of the scholar. He said something like this: We know that ideals cannot be immediately realized in practical life, but we also know that great impulses and great powers lie in such ideals, which can advance humanity. If the so-called practitioners do not recognize this, then they are merely testifying that they were not reckoned with in the evolution of the world. And so may a benevolent Deity grant them light and sunshine, good digestion and, if it can be, a little sense as well! Those who are true practitioners count on the real practical forces of life and do not let themselves be annoyed by those objections that are so characteristic of the way Fichte characterizes them, and which say: What is downcast Germany, what is humanity, reduced to misery in Central Europe, to do alone if all the others do not want to go along with the threefold social order?

Dear attendees, if we work with all our strength – even today, when it is almost too late – on this threefold social order, so that it enters as many minds as possible, and really present it to the world in a living way, then the others, even if they are the victors, will accept it as something fruitful and beneficial for the world and for humanity. When the “key points” were translated into English, one could see how almost every discussion of this book began with the words: “One can hardly read this book with any other frame of mind,” but even then one approached the content with a certain objectivity. We lack only people to help us make these ideas fruitful for life. We need people who have a spirit of progress, but not a spirit of empty phrases. And the more we can win such people, the less we need to fear the accusation that we in Central Europe can achieve nothing against the others.

Another objection that is often made is: What can the individual do, even if he sees something like the fertility of the impulse for threefolding? Oh, let no one grieve because the “others” do not see through it, let him alone see it himself as an individual, then he sets an example for others and enters the path where individuals become many. And let us not be annoyed by the other reproach either, when people say again and again: If you seek ascent by such a path, it will take a long time. We do not want to waste time wondering how long it will take, but we do want to be clear about one thing: the more we want it, the sooner it will come! We do not want to engage in idle speculation, but we want to think and act in such a way that our actions, our will and our thoughts make it happen as quickly as possible.

When a person brings to life in his soul the right ways for the right social coexistence, when he ignites his soul and lives through it with these impulses, which show us how spiritual, legal, state or political life and from economic life, then he can work from a single earthly territory, even against the prejudices of the whole world, in such a way that many individual territories arise that take up the impulses and carry them forward for the progress and welfare of humanity. In this way, a long period of pain can become a short one; in this way, one can overcome space and time and manifold [obstacles] if one really wants to find the true good of humanity for a new ascent, based on independent legal consciousness and on the correct economic consciousness of the present.

Not only everyone notices that civilized humanity is going through severe crises in the present, but everyone actually experiences them. I would like to say that two of these crises have recently emerged quite clearly, so to speak explosively.

The first, more insidious crisis, is already being noticed and mentioned by a great many people in the present, but its nature is understood by very few. For this crisis, which has brought such severe misery and hardship to humanity in the first instance and which we can describe as the state crisis of the present, we can probably set 1914 as the year of explosion. We know, of course, how the most terrible struggles took place in the European state system at that time, and how humanity is still suffering from the terrible after-effects of those struggles today. It may be said that it became apparent during the course of these struggles, but especially after these struggles came to an apparent end in 1918, that it became apparent how little is understood as to where the source, the actual cause of this state-legal crisis of humanity is to be found.

From two sides, one could hear something like a motto that would indicate the direction in which the terrible crisis would develop. Some thought – I do not want to go into the characteristics of the individual parties now, that does not belong here, but I just want to mention it – they thought that a different structure of the state system of civilized humanity must emerge from the chaos of war; at least, many thought, the existing states would have to change their borders, set up safeguards here or there. The others, no less numerous, wanted to make the motto from the most diverse points of view: Neither winners nor losers! - That would mean that the system of states of civilized humanity must emerge from the chaos of war in the same form as it was before.

It must be said that both those who thought of conquests, of changing state borders, and those who spoke the slogan “neither victor nor vanquished” actually realized that this terrible confusion in the second decade of the 20th 0th century had arisen from the fact that the states, in their mutual relationship, with their borders as they were, simply could not remain, but that they also did not have the strength within themselves to reorganize themselves in such a way that a tolerable relationship could emerge between them. That it could not come to the conclusion 'neither victor nor vanquished' is shown by the outcome of the war. But that the conclusion 'victory' is not enough either is shown by what has developed since then, because if you look at what has arisen from the way of thinking, from the outlook of those who are among the victors , then one must say: in Versailles, in Saint-Germain, in Spa and so on, everywhere those who thought with the same thoughts were together, with which one set up the states that had come into confusion and chaos. They wanted to continue with the same way of thinking, the same way of looking at things. They wanted to set up some new state territories, which we also saw emerging – at first only on the surface – but what was hoped for did not come of it. Anyone who takes an unbiased look at the conditions of civilized humanity today will have to admit that what has been established, especially in Europe, already clearly shows that it cannot have an inner foundation. From the disorder in which everything that emerged from the peace agreements finds itself, the unbiased must recognize that one simply cannot continue the old way of thinking, the state way of thinking, which has emerged through modern history. It has asserted itself in the peace agreements; it has proved its impossibility through the facts.

The second crisis – or perhaps it would be better to say the explosion of the second crisis, since it had been in preparation for a long time – occurred around 1918 and in the following years. It can be called the economic crisis. Out of the chaos of war arose in the yearning of humanity what could be called the aspiration to arrive at economic conditions such as are present in the instincts and needs of numerous members of today's civilized humanity. What have we seen emerging from this economic crisis so far? If we look to the West, we see absolute helplessness; we also see the continuation of economic activity as it has emerged in modern history; we see continuous experimentation without guiding ideas; we see those who are concerned about this economic activity, so far in great apprehension about the outcome of this experimentation. And if we look to the East, we see how purely economic thinking, insofar as it has asserted itself in the minds of the proletariat, has taken on a strange form. We see in the European East – and we see the same thing continuing deep into Asia – the endeavour to create, one might say, a militarized economic state structure. We see the purely militaristic principle applied in the East, which has suffered such shipwreck from the old constitutional states. I would like to say: we see the purely militaristic principle applied to an economic organism that is to be created. And today the facts speak clearly enough for these efforts. Who would claim today that anything else could be achieved by this militarization of economic life in the east of Europe than merely the plundering of the old economy and the destruction of the old economic structure? One has illusions about anything that is to be created for humanity, but which crumbles more with each day, with each week. On the other hand, we see how the ideas and views of people, how they have developed, particularly in the second half of the 19th century, as so-called thought-based economic reforms, social reforms, how these ideas, where they are to be applied radically, cannot in the least produce anything fruitful.

And so it may be said that two crises, the state crisis and the economic crisis, now face civilized humanity with no prospect of a way out. One does not need to develop extensive spiritual abilities to recognize this, as I mentioned in the introduction; one need only devote oneself impartially to observing what is happening. From these observations, which could already be made over decades, if one directed the attention of the soul to the way in which these two crises were clearly preparing, arose that which has been undertaken in recent times in Dornach as anthroposophical college courses. Of course, the anthroposophical college courses held in September and October of this year in Dornach by three lecturers from the most diverse branches of science need not be overestimated in their present significance; they are a very first and perhaps very weak beginning, but the beginning of a very definite, purposeful will. The thirty lecturers in Dornach were intended to show that the anthroposophically oriented spiritual science that I have been presenting for almost two decades now, also in Stuttgart, has the inner strength and the inner scientific methodology to fertilize the most diverse human scientific branches, so that they can take on a form corresponding to the demands of contemporary and future life.

But what is necessary in order for something like this to be undertaken in a purposeful way? It is necessary to understand what the most important, the third crisis is, of which the other two crises mentioned are basically only the outward expression. But this third crisis is not yet being properly understood by almost all of humanity today: it is the crisis of our entire spiritual life. I know, my dear audience, that what I am saying is something that is met with the gravest doubt in the broadest circles today. I also know that what I am saying is something that people actually find uncomfortable to hear. This is shown, for example, by the fact that many people admit the state crisis and many people admit the economic crisis, that they demand fundamental changes in the conception and organization of state and economic life as a result of this admission, but that very few people are convinced that intellectual life, including the individual sciences, must also undergo a transformation. In many circles today, it is thought that intellectual life must provide the sources for further fruitful progress for humanity, for emerging from hardship and misery and social confusion. But people think of the contribution of intellectual life in such a way that they simply take only those 'intellectual goods' that have been produced so far as so-called 'safe science' and want to introduce them into the widest circles through the most diverse channels, through adult education centres, popular education associations and so on. But - as I have mentioned here before - people are not unbiased enough to thoroughly consider the following fact: When one recognizes that it was precisely those circles that have so far participated in the intellectual life as it has developed in modern human development, and that it was precisely these educated circles that have essentially become the bearers of the confusion, when one recognizes this, one must admit that the same confusion cannot be removed by popularizing the thoughts that have led to disaster and that have been brought about by this intellectual movement, because then the same confusion would arise from the widest circles that has already emerged from the narrow circle of the representatives of this intellectual life.

Therefore, the aim that has emerged from Dornach, where these Anthroposophical college courses have taken place, is not to simply popularize in a conservative way what we already have in terms of so-called certain science or other spiritual goods within which the confusions have asserted themselves, but to fertilize this spiritual material anew, to give it an impetus through which it can become the bearer of a different social and economic life. The aim of the spiritual movement inspired by anthroposophy is to renew spiritual life, not to broaden the old spiritual life. It should be recognized within the spiritual movement inspired by anthroposophy that the impulses, thoughts and views that have led to the confusion of states and the confusion of the economy were already present in the old school of thought. But few people today still take the trouble to really look at the origins of our distress and our lives, at the crisis in our intellectual life. That is just inconvenient. After all, something should be “certain”, one should be able to stand on some firm ground. One believes that everything would be shaken if one were to have a reforming effect on this intellectual life itself. That is why it is so difficult for anthroposophically oriented spiritual science to speak to people of the present day, because basically the interest that it must assert out of its inner sense of duty in world history is not active at all among the people in the broadest circles. One would like to look everywhere, in the economic and the state, for the sources of the crises, but one shrinks from looking for them in the spiritual life.

But until we look for it in the intellectual life, nothing, absolutely nothing, will improve – not in economic life, nor in the life of the state. For what is external reality in the life of the state and in economic life is, even if people do not want to see it today, only the expression of what people think, what they have learned to think through the spiritual life that has emerged in the last three to four centuries, particularly in the 19th and at the beginning of the 20th century in the developmental history of humanity. The state and economic crises are too noticeable to be denied, and it has become necessary to recognize that new impulses must be supplied to both state and economic development. Many people admit that something must happen in the spiritual life as well. But that something must happen that is oriented towards anthroposophical spiritual science is something that people of the present day, who also admit the former, very often resist. We can already give enough examples of this today - examples that can be taken from the present, both from the world regions suffering from terrible cultural pressure that belong to the defeated, and from those cultural regions that belong to the victors.

We see, now that the war turmoil has come to a temporary, but only apparent, end, that after the revolutionary spirit had emerged, the call to separate the ecclesiastical and religious element from the state element has been asserted within Germany. Taken in the abstract, I would say that this is the first call for a part of what the threefold social organism wants: it wants to separate the entire spiritual life from the state and economic life and place it in its own self-government, built only on its own principles. Today, only this innermost part of spiritual life is understood, so that one has demanded, but only in an abstract sense, its separation from state life.

Now, however, other phenomena have emerged in this very area within Germany: from a certain quarter, a decidedly anti-religious, anti-Christian sentiment has asserted itself, and that which has asserted itself there has combined with the war cry: separation of the Church from the State. In particular, it became difficult for Protestantism to come to terms with what emerged as a result of the war, the revolution. On the one hand, one had to realize that the Catholic Church, with its ancient constitution, would not lose much by separating from the state, because it has so many political and administrative and also popular impulses within itself that it could indeed only gain from this separation from the state, especially if it still circumvents the separation from the state in a scheming way. On the other hand, the connection of the Protestant churches with the state authorities was so close – the Protestant churches were designed to see the ecclesiastical authority exercised by state powers – that they had to feel, as it were, abandoned by the separation from the state. This was felt to a certain extent, leading to a kind of rallying call for a gathering of all that could still, from a religious point of view, direct the gaze towards the spiritual. The various denominations were to be organized so that they could achieve together what they could not achieve separately, through a kind of self-government.

Yes, something else emerged that is highly characteristic: those who were the bearers of this “consolidation” idea of the various church denominations openly stated that it was good that the separation of church and state affairs was still taking place as trustingly as possible with regard to the state authorities, that the separation - as it was put - was happening in a “benevolent” manner, so to speak. They openly stated that at least religious education would still be provided by the state and so on, that the church would not simply be released from state authority, but would be compensated in a certain way - well, and what more such things are -: “benevolent detachment from the state”. From this it can be seen that religious denominations are accustomed to being run by the state; they cannot imagine a certain state independence. This is not only due to economic circumstances, but also to the way people think. And so we see that the churches that are to gain their independence still look, so to speak, if only halfheartedly, to the state leadership they have become accustomed to over the centuries. This is more or less the case in Central Europe.

Let us now look at the rest of the world. It is extremely interesting that in Switzerland, for example, speakers from America are now being heard who are church representatives of religious denominations. What do they say in their speeches? They say something like the following in their speeches – I can only summarize what is explained in detail in a few sentences – they say something like the following, from the American point of view, of course: Humanity is striving, they say, for the League of Nations. The League of Nations is supposed to lead humanity out of the old, militaristic conditions; it is supposed to bring the longed-for peace and a new human culture and human civilization. But, they say, the achievements of the statesmen to date, what they have accomplished so far, cannot bring about a viable League of Nations. In saying this, they are attacking Woodrow Wilson, whom they describe as a well-meaning but somewhat foolish idealist. For such a League of Nations would be forged together by external, state conditions that have actually outlived themselves, that no longer have the strength to support human civilization. The true League of Nations, so say these American pastors, must be rooted in the hearts of men. But it can take root in the hearts of men only when Christian feeling and religious confession are found throughout the earth. And so these American speakers would actually like to come to the constitution of the League of Nations with the Europeans from the religious point of view; they would like to win the hearts of humanity religiously.

What I am relating to you, ladies and gentlemen, is something that comes from the spiritual life. But anyone who hears the speeches of such American pastors, and who is able to see without prejudice what is now raging economically in Europe, will say: however beautiful the words may be – they are sometimes very beautiful, these words that are spoken there - however beautiful the words may be, they do not find the way to the hearts of men; they are powerless to found an inner league of nations. For those people, whose instincts and desires give rise to the social battle cries of today, no longer have an ear for these beautifully spoken words; they demand something else; hearts do not open to these words. Here it is shown, as well as on the ground, where the call sounds to break away benevolently from the state, to gather together what is scattered, everywhere it is shown that one already notices the creeping mental crisis of the present. But one must really be quite biased if one can believe that, on the one hand, the beautiful words of American pastors can found the world federation in the hearts of men or that, on the other hand, by collecting the various denominations that exist in Central Europe can be brought about by the collection of what exists in terms of denominations in Central Europe – a spiritual renewal that is truly powerful enough to bring about strength for social human progress, to bring about strength that can reform in the state and economic spheres. Only if one is biased can one believe such things.

Anthroposophically oriented spiritual science studies what is actually taking place from its insights and its perspective, and it notes: Yes, the will is there to make a spiritual life powerful among people again, so that the state and economic life can emerge from thoughts rooted in a fruitful spiritual life. Otherwise, economic and political life cannot be reformed. The will is there, but something is missing: the creative power. Today it is not enough for American pastors to repeat old-fashioned words, however beautifully they are forged, but which have lost their value for human hearts. Today it is not a matter of collecting the confessions of the past; today it is a matter of bringing a new spiritual life to people through a new creation. Only those who do not merely want to repeat the old, do not merely want to collect the old, but who develop the will to create spiritually anew understand the spiritual crisis.

We must ask ourselves: Why do the most beautiful words prove powerless? Why does the collection [of religious creeds] lead to nothing? We see that in the course of the last three to four centuries, what is called state life and what is called economic life has become powerful throughout civilized humanity. These two have taken the spiritual life so completely in tow that those in Central Europe who, in terms of their religious confession, are to be separated from the state, nevertheless crave the state and its leadership. So completely has the spiritual life been dragged in tow that today the most beautiful words that can be spoken from this old spiritual life no longer find their way to the hearts in which the instincts for today's reforms arise. This proves, from the external historical facts, that we do not merely need a new fertilization of the old, a stimulus for the old, but that we need a complete new creation. From this point of view, anthroposophically oriented spiritual science stands. It wants to fertilize the individual sciences, which are supposed to provide the thoughts for the state and economic life of humanity. But spiritual science as anthroposophically oriented should also inspire state life itself and economic life in such a way that both are supplied with new impulses that are created in spiritual life itself. We have succeeded in doing this for a large part of the sciences, at least for a start – we can emphasize this after our successes, after our results during the Dornach college courses. Historical, physical, chemical, biological, legal, yes, even mathematical, philosophical, psychological research – all these fields have already taken shape through our college courses, showing what these branches of science will become if they are methodically and rigorously permeated by what spiritual scientific research intends, as it has been presented here in Stuttgart for more than a decade and a half. It is precisely this crisis of the spirit, which makes necessary new spiritual creations, that anthroposophically oriented spiritual science seeks to point out. Why, I said, have the most beautiful words proved powerless? Why do we long for guidance from the state again? Because, basically, we have gradually attained a spiritual life that was entirely an appendage of state or economic life, that was entirely established in relation to educational and teaching institutions out of state will, that was entirely maintained by the aging economic forms. What state and economic life have hammered together with spiritual life over the past few centuries, what they have made out of the old creeds, has now become something that proves powerless when it wants to assert itself, as is the case with the American pastors for the founding of a League of Nations. Yes, my dear ladies and gentlemen, spiritual life has been reduced to this impotence by the state's supreme supervision and economic supremacy. The spiritual life towards which anthroposophically oriented spiritual science aims must, as I have often discussed here, arise from the innermost soul life of the human being himself. This soul life, however, cannot be subject to any kind of supervision or control, but can only arise in full freedom, through the completely free development of human individuality, in the free self-administration of this spiritual life itself. If this spiritual life is in free self-management, if it can produce precisely the kind of science that has emerged in Dornach and that the Waldorf School demonstrates for the art of education every day, if this spiritual life in free self-management can truly bring forth the human individual abilities that are sent into the physical world with every human being through birth or conception from spiritual worlds, then the fruits that flourish from such a free spiritual life can be fed to state life and economic life. The crises in the life of the state and in economic life are due to the fact that they lack the fertilizing ideas which should be supplied to them from a free spiritual life. When the state and economic life took it upon themselves to direct the spiritual life, it resulted in the suppression of the fertilizing influence which can only come to them if the spiritual life is left free, so that from this freedom the spiritual life can have an effect on the state and economic life. What I am hinting at here can also be fully substantiated by an unbiased observation of the course of civilization history. I will just point out some of this evidence. We see how, since the 15th, 16th, 17th centuries, especially since the 18th century, economic life has become more and more complicated. We see how the necessity has developed to lead this economic life, which used to be guided more instinctively, even into city culture, even into the guild system, out of unconscious thinking. But one need only look at the people who are to be named among the spiritual founders of the newer economic sciences, at minds like those of the Frenchman Frangois Quesnay and the Englishman Adam Smith, and one will find that, in the period of world history in which it has become necessary to grasp the economy from the spirit, scientific thinking itself has become powerless to cast any kind of light on economic life. Both Quesnay, the Frenchman who wanted to establish a political economy more from a natural science background, and Smith, the Englishman who founded a similar political economy, basically wanted to construct the whole political economy from a few axiomatic-looking principles such as “the validity of private property” and “the economic freedom of the human individual”.

If we look in particular at the founder of modern political economy, Adam Smith – and his thinking is, of course, only an expression of the thinking of his entire age, the 17th and 18th centuries – we find that this economic thinking of Adam Smith is basically a true reflection of the thinking that was established as scientific thinking in the West of civilization in particular at that time. It is very interesting to follow how, for example, what entered into physical-astronomical thinking as a method, as a way of looking at things, through Newton, and then entered into science as a way of dealing with problems, is encountered again in Smith in the treatment of economic tasks. Just as mathematical physics seeks to derive everything from a few principles that can be grasped by the intellect in the abstract, so a man like Adam Smith seeks to derive the whole of political economy from a few principles that can be grasped by the intellect in the abstract. It is interesting to observe how unprejudiced minds, even Bulwer in a novel, set about mocking what has now become established as thinking in political economy. We find the mocking thought in Bulwer: “In the past it was believed that anyone who wanted to get involved in political economy had to have extensive knowledge of what people do when they do business with each other. Today, all you need are a few abstract principles, and you can derive the entire national economy from them. - And even earlier, an unbiased thinker, Young, said: Until now, he had thought that someone who wanted to talk about the national economy had to know the virtues and vices of people, the way people communicate in economic life, what they do there - in short: that such a person had to have extensive knowledge. But Adam Smith showed him, said Young, that you only need a few ideas and that with a few strokes of the pen you can compress all the extensive, empirical economic knowledge into a few abstract ideas.

As economic life has become more complicated, what has happened to economic thinking? Well, my dear audience, something has come over this economic thinking, which first asserted itself in the West, which originates from the newer economic life, which is modeled on the newer economic life and which, in its final consequences, whether one admits it or not, now appears in the East of Europe in the few abstract thoughts of Lenin and Trotsky as the final consequence. That is what we have to face. But you only understand what is at stake here if you not only acquire a few abstract thoughts - which today's humanity loves very much - but if you get a thorough overview of the course of human development for many centuries, as I have often hinted at and as I will now hint at from a different point of view.

My dear attendees, just as a view such as that begun by Newton, which then came into the human psychology through other thinkers and mechanized the human psychology , just as Newton mechanized astronomy, just as this mechanical-mathematical scientific approach came into political economy through Adam Smith, so, basically, it has taken hold of even the popular views of the modern civilized world. And today, in the age of newspapers and the popularization of science, there are basically few people alive who have not been touched in some way, even if they are unaware of it, by the spirit of this scientific discipline. This type of science lives on the one hand in mathematics; in mathematics it has the only thing that springs from within the human being, for all of mathematics is not something that is gained through observation, but it is something that springs from within the human being. This branch of science, which has mathematical thinking, which can be clearly seen, for example, in Smith, and also in Ricardo, the later editor of the national economy, - this mathematical thinking is one side of modern science. The other side is the sensory observation of the external world and the formation of all kinds of abstract theories, of atomistic or other materialistic theories about this sensory external world. These two currents actually stand there: sensory observation of the external world, mathematizing thinking. We must be fair to what appears on the one hand as mathematizing thinking, right into economics, and on the other hand as conscientious observation and conscientious experimentation in the external world. We must be fair to this, for it has brought about the great triumphs of modern Western science. And I have emphasized it many times: these triumphs of modern science are by no means opposed by anthroposophically oriented spiritual science, but fully recognized. But it must be realized that there was a time in the development of humanity when this kind of scientific attitude was not present at all. Today, of what was present in humanity in this field, only the last decadent remnants are left.

Again I point to the Orient. But if one wants to see the essential things in their true form, one must not look to the present-day Orient, where everything is already in decline and destruction, which was once an ancient wisdom of humanity, which was even greater than it later became — you can read about it in my book “Occult Science”. It was even greater in the time before the Vedas, before the Vedanta philosophy came into being; what still shines out artistically from the Vedas, and only in the last echoes from the Vedanta philosophy, can still be seen by the unbiased knower in the whole of oriental development. There is much that is magnificent and powerful in the wisdom. There is nothing in it of the special way in which Western science of more recent times works. The way of thinking, the way of looking at the world, was quite different. The scientific methods that we so admire today, and rightly so, that we must emulate, were not found in ancient oriental thought. Instead, ancient Oriental wisdom had what I would call a world view, in contrast to science: a world view without science. That was basically the characteristic essence of the ancient East in its wisdom.

This world view is significant in that it encompasses the whole person; it is significant in that through this world view, the human being grasps himself as spirit, soul and body. Admittedly, this world view in the ancient Orient occurred in such a way that little attention was paid to the body and to that which belonged to the external, physical world. This life was more of an understanding between soul and spirit, in which man knew himself rooted, but it was a world view. That is to say, through what man thought and felt, he firmly established his position, his relationship to the world of the senses and to the world of the spirit. He did this not in a scientific way, but through soul perception. What was gained through spiritual contemplation certainly lived in its original form in the ancient times of the Orient. But the legacy of it lived on, and basically, the legacy of this oriental world view can be felt right up to the present day. This life of world-conception gave that through which, for example, the first Christianity - in which this ancient oriental wisdom and world-conception was still alive - grasped the mystery of Golgotha that gives meaning to the earth. But in the place of the view that the ancient Orient had, the intellectual element became more and more established as this view remained. Before the appearance in more recent times of the Western world's science, which is also without a worldview and which has also given shape to the teaching of the soul and to economics, as I have mentioned, what I would like to call an inner struggle arose in the middle, beginning with ancient Greece, clearly developing in ancient Rome, and then establishing itself throughout Central Europe. He grasped an event that can only be grasped by the spirit, the Christ event, still through the inherited echoes of ancient, oriental wisdom. Alongside this, through the special talents of Western humanity, there shimmered more and more, even into this Central Europe, that which is mere human intellectuality, which basically wants to understand the entire cosmos, above all our earthly surroundings and human beings themselves, only through mathematics and through observation of the external world.

And so, in Central Europe, on the one hand, there was precisely that which one might call a leaning towards the ancient oriental heritage. Everything that lived and still lives today through the Middle Ages and more recent times in the content of Christian teaching, everything that lives in it as a world view - even if it has almost gone out, even if pure rationalism has taken hold of modern theology - is for the most part old oriental heritage, because only a few attempts at a new creation exist. And connected with this is what man now finds out of himself through mathematics and observation of nature, but which does not lead to a world view. And so we see in the Middle Ages, in the time when Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas were working, this conflict between what human reason can achieve through observation and mathematics, what should be limited to the sensory world, and that which is supposed to be revelation, world-view revelation – the Mystery of Golgotha, which was not called by that name at the time, but which, in terms of its content, not of fact, was ancient oriental heritage. And basically, this dichotomy lives on to this day in all public life in Central Europe, including in state and economic life, emerging from the Middle Ages - this dichotomy between scientific thinking without a worldview and an old, inherited worldview without science. Man in Central Europe has been called upon to wage this inner battle since the time of the ancient Greeks. And it was precisely this inner struggle that produced the greatest spiritual achievements during the period of German culture at the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries. For that which lived in Herder, Schiller, Goethe, in the philosophers of German idealism, in Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, only lived in all these minds because these minds, in their inmost depths, concentrated the struggle that exists between science without world-view and the inherited world-view without science. In Goethe's works, one can follow this conflict in his individual utterances, as he tried to reconcile what science gives on the one hand, and what lived in him as an intuitive feeling, in accordance with the imagination, as an ancient heritage of the Orient. Indeed, with Goethe it goes even further; he experienced this inner conflict until the eighties of the 18th century. Then he was drawn to the south, so that he could at least still feel in the south the echoes that remained in southern Europe of the ancient oriental, unscientific world view, which, however, was very, very much dying out in Greece. From this unscientific world view, nothing but mathematics, dry mathematics, came through the Arabs from the European south to the west. It is basically Europe's last remnant, albeit a lasting remnant, of what arose from the unscientific world view of the Orient as a comprehensively universal concept. For there, all wisdom was so intrinsic to the human being, whereas in our civilization, only mathematics is still intrinsic. Novalis, in particular, felt this about mathematics and stammered out.

And what the Western civilization has gained is what I would call the system of observation and experimentation, from which the actual science of the West has emerged, from which everything that man does not initially gain from his inner being emerges, but which he gains by allowing the world of the senses to have an effect on the senses. And what has become of the scientific spirit in the process, what has been transferred from the scientific spirit to all the things through which our leading people gain their education, their scientific knowledge, that, my dear audience, has revealed its powerlessness in the face of economic and state life, in the face of the spirits I have mentioned, to whom many other names could be added.

And so we see our modern life looming. I would like to express it symbolically, what has actually become established in the last three to four centuries as our looming modern life. Outwardly, it is characterized as follows: On the one hand, we see the essential spirit of science developing and dominating schools and universities. But we see that what is done in schools and universities leads to an unworldly existence. We see how the universities stand as lonely islands of education. But we also see something else happening: that what is done in the way of newer science, of science without world view, stops at nothing. A characteristic example of this is the Darwinian doctrine, which, with such scientific conscientiousness, traces the development of living beings from the simplest creature to the most perfect one. However, it places man at the top of this animal organization, so to speak, and only comes to explain man insofar as he is an animal. From this and many other examples, one could show how the insights of mathematizing and purely externally observing science stop at the human being. Thus we have a scientific system of education, without a world view, that lives in abstractions, that does not give the human being what the world view of the Orient, without science, still gave - a sense of his place in the world - that only satisfies the head, only the intellect, that does not take hold of the whole person. On the one hand.

On the other hand, something arises that I would like to describe symbolically by showing you the factory with the modern practitioner. What is the relationship between the factory and the university? Yes, there is a relationship, but this relationship has become very one-sided. The one thing that shines from the modern universities into the factory is mechanical science. And this shining of mechanical science has brought about the great development of technology for the factory and for everything that goes with it, which has founded modern civilization. This science, which stops at the human being with its knowledge, was able to contribute to the development of technology in the highest sense. But even in the factory, the practitioner stops at the human being. He extends his routine — for it is nothing other than routine — only into the technical and into that which is connected with the technical. He cannot establish any relationship, any human relationship, between himself as an entrepreneur and leader and those who work on modern civilization from out of the broad mass of humanity. In knowledge, science stops short of the human being; in practice, in social activity, it stops short of the human being. This halting of the advance is indicated by a boundary. Everything that could come from modern mathematical science into technology, everything that could fertilize trade and commerce, and so on, has been taken into the area that has this boundary. But from science, which stops at human knowledge, no social life could be gained from this science that could have satisfied the great demands of modern times on this purely human side. And so, beyond the boundary, stood all of humanity, which in the most recent time now demanded its human dignity; so stood that humanity to which one had not found the path in practice, just as one had not found the path to the human being himself and his essence in the modern world-view-less scientific knowledge. This is the tragedy that has led to the modern crises, because what is written about modern practical life in the books, what is written in the ledger and the cash book, has nothing to do with what lives in the souls of those who stand beyond the boundary, beyond which humanity one stopped. But these came forward with their soul demands, and from these soul demands arose the counter-image of the spiritual crisis of the present.

Thus we have seen the rise of those universities, those colleges, those educational institutions that only opened the way to the technical, to the commercial, to the inhuman, I might say, into the factory, into industry, into the modern money economy, but which did not penetrate to the human being itself. And so, on the other hand, we have seen the imperfect sense of observation, which was first found in cognitive science without a world view, develop into the experimental sense of modern practitioners, who want nothing to do with guiding ideas, who limit themselves to experimenting with the mathematical-mechanical-technical, who summon people and make them work without concerning themselves with the social structure of humanity. We have seen the rise of the practitioner, who today has a formal hatred of all guiding ideas, who has a formal hatred of everything scientific, of everything cognitive, but who is right on the one hand in that this modern, world-view-less science has nothing of what can illuminate practice, insofar as the human heart is involved in practice. But this practitioner is wrong in that he attributes to this branch of science what he attributes to every spiritual life. And so he wants to remain a routine practitioner, he wants to continue what I would call a spiritless, mere experimental approach. This makes it so difficult to really build the bridge that could be built from anthroposophically oriented spiritual science to the most practical life. The only thing to blame for this is the aversion of practitioners, who want to remain routiniers, to what, for example, the impulse for the threefold social organism comes from spiritual science. More and more we have seen this hatred of practice against everything that is spiritual life. And so today in the West we see a confused hustle and bustle of experimental economic activity, of experimental state activity. And we see in the East this economic activity, this state activity, leading to a militarized economic state that must paralyze everything human.

Thus we see how the crisis of the state and the economic crisis have actually arisen from the crisis of the spirit. Based on this clear insight, what has been represented here for more than a decade and a half as anthroposophically oriented spiritual science would like to develop the forces for human progress. Anthroposophically oriented spiritual science seeks to develop living knowledge out of the same scientific spirit that developed in the West without a worldview, out of the innermost human soul experience. This knowledge in turn becomes a worldview, not just a repetition of old words that no longer find their way to the hearts of men, but which seeks to shed light on the old creeds and to open up the view to that mighty event in the evolution of the earth, the Mystery of Golgotha. There is resistance to such a renewal of spiritual life, which, from the spirit of modern humanity, seeks to view the fundamental fact of Christianity, which can only be properly grasped and contemplated in spirit. We can no longer return to the ancient Orient. We can no longer aspire to a worldview that is not scientific. We have moved beyond the times when a worldview lacking in science could suffice for humanity. Today we are faced with the great task of developing a worldview from science through the inner development of the human being. We will be able to do this if we truly understand the nature of anthroposophically oriented spiritual science. However, as long as there are still people who claim that what is gained through the spiritual-scientific method of knowledge - an inward but strictly scientific method modeled on the strictest mathematical methods - could be just as much a vision as any other vision or hallucination, as long as there are there are people who claim such things, because, for example, they cannot in reality read what is written in my books “Occult Science” or “How to Attain Knowledge of Higher Worlds”; as long as there are such people and as long as such people find credence, spiritual science will indeed have a difficult road to travel. I will have more to say about this. For such people do not realize that what is grasped with spiritual insight, what is grasped by man inwardly awakening himself to a spiritual insight, teaches him to distinguish fantasy from reality just as one learns to distinguish fantasy from reality in ordinary consciousness. The logic of facts on which this distinction is based is basically very simple, a logic of facts that only our opponents cannot grasp.

How do I know, for example, that when I lift a kilogram weight, I am not hallucinating, but that it is external reality? How do I recognize that? I recognize this by the fact that I simply have to strengthen my sense of self when I lift the weight. I have to make myself stronger inwardly. If I have a mere vision or hallucination, my sense of self remains with the same intensity. I am absorbed in the vision because I do not have the experience of intensifying my sense of self. I notice the resistance by the fact that I have to apply strength that is within me when lifting the kilogram weight; I am not absorbed in the vision. Likewise, when I have spiritual experiences, I do not lose myself in hallucinations or fantasies in which my sense of self does not increase. They are described everywhere in the spiritual scientific writings that those experiences through which one penetrates into the world in which man is before birth or conception, in which he will be after death, in which his eternal is rooted , that these experiences through which one penetrates into the supersensible world presuppose that one must awaken the soul more than in ordinary life, that is, one must make it experience more intensely, more strongly inwardly. But this expresses precisely what guarantees the scientific nature of what is asserted as spiritual insight. And if one asserts what I have only hinted at here, what I have often discussed in lectures here in Stuttgart over many years, if one asserts this, then, yes, then one acquires accurate views about what has seized modern humanity like a crisis in intellectual life.

For example, one sees how mathematics came to the West as an ancient inheritance via a detour through Arabia, but how it was powerless to conquer the complicated economic and political life of the West, as can be seen, for example, in Adam Smith. One observes that this mathematical thinking, this mathematical view, is gained entirely from within the human being, and by inwardly awakening the soul, one develops precisely that which adheres to this mathematical thinking. It is precisely that which lives in mathematical thinking that one develops into a higher perfection through inner, spiritual methods. In this way one acquires a very specific spiritual view. By inwardly enlivening the mathematization, which is limited only to the world between birth and death, through spiritual-scientific methods, one learns to recognize that which comes into the soul through inspiration. It comes in such a way that the intuition opens up for us to what the human being has experienced supersensibly in spiritual worlds before birth or conception. Mathematics is the one field of science that has preserved for us a final starting point for arriving at a view of prenatal human life.

What Western science, without a worldview, acquires in its external observation, if it is developed here [in spiritual science], initially provides something that does not remain an abstract view - for worldview For science without world-view it remains abstract contemplation – but it rises to become moral, as I have shown in my Philosophy of Freedom, rising to become moral imagination and thus the foundation of the moral life of the human being. Everything we gain in thoughts from the outside world leads to images, to imaginations, which ultimately connect with inspiration. We experience this. And however imperfect what we can observe of the external world between birth and death may be, when we process it inwardly, when we also experience what we have observed outwardly in our soul through the spiritual-scientific method, then from our imaginations we also gain a view of the life into which we enter after our death. When applied to science, spiritual science will in turn lead to a world view that is based on mathematics, observation and experimentation. However, this world view can give modern civilization the strength to advance humanity. For the world view has the property - as it already showed as an oriental, science-less world view - that it affects the mind and will of man, that it works in such a way that man founds a legal life according to these particular views, through which he brings about an understanding from person to person in the human community, in other words, that he builds himself a state life. A worldview stimulates the will through which economic life is determined. Science without a worldview speaks only to the head, to the intellect; it leaves the emotions and the will unaffected.

And so we see that while intellectual science has reached its highest flowering at the beginning of the twentieth century, the feeling that should permeate the state and the will that should shape economic life have remained uninfluenced. We would be heading towards this barbarization if head and intellect increasingly develop the life of instinct and leave mind and will uncared for, as it is already so terribly evident in the East of today's civilization. Anthroposophically oriented spiritual science, on the other hand, can take hold of feeling and will and thus generate a new force for human progress. This is something that science, without a worldview, cannot do. Anthroposophically oriented spiritual science in turn penetrates into feeling, that is, into state life; it penetrates into the will, that is, into economic life. It is by this crisis and the healing of it that one must recognize what the other two crises are. Non-ideological science, ladies and gentlemen, only seizes the intellect. It leaves unaffected the emotional life, which should lead to that proper understanding between man and man, which is the decisive thing in the state, and it leaves equally unaffected the will, which should have a formative effect in economic life.

And so we see what has emerged as the threefold crisis in modern times. We see how people long for a renewal of intellectual life, but how they do not want to admit that this renewal of intellectual life can only come from a new creation. And so we see the powerlessness of the old intellectual life in the “collection” idea, in the fine words of the American speakers who address the Swiss and the Europeans in general. But attention must be drawn to the necessity of a new creation of intellectual life. Only from this new creation of spiritual life will something new be able to emerge that was not there, that has not proved its impossibility, like the modern state system, which in 1914 entered into its catastrophe, not merely into its crisis because it had no free spiritual life alongside it, which had not proved its impossibility like the economic life, which entered into its catastrophe in the present because it did not have the fertilization of the free spiritual life.

In modern times, we see the emergence of an intellectualized science that cannot produce the human being who is equal to political and economic life, who can find fruitful ideas for political and economic life. We see the emergence of the type of person who, in the institutions of the state, seeks only the satisfaction of his or her egoism through human sentiment, instead of communication from person to person, and thus gradually undermines the structure of these state institutions. We see through mere intellectual science, which seizes the head alone, the will degenerating into mere instinctive life, and thus also flowing into acts of egoism. We see the rise of a lack of brotherhood, which aims only at enhancing the existence of one's own being, from mere science without a worldview. However, we will find the new forces for human progress precisely through anthroposophically oriented spiritual science and thus find a worldview from modern science. It will produce a thinking human being whose thinking is not merely intellectual, whose thinking shines into feeling, whose thinking penetrates into will. We will see the man of action springing from the thinker, the man who, instead of merely satisfying his egoism, seeks human understanding in a state community.

We will see the emergence of the human being who, in the associations that bring together people with the most diverse economic needs and with different economic abilities, we will see the sense of brotherhood emerging from the will, which is fertilized by a real spiritual thinking, which works in associative community in such a way that the human being works together with the other people with understanding for all and thus also for himself. We shall see emerging from a truly spiritual world-knowledge the thinking man of action, the feeling man of right, the fraternally minded economic will-man, and thus we shall gain out of such an anthroposophically oriented spiritual science a new power for human progress out of the spiritual crisis.

The last few years have shown what intense feelings of hatred and antipathy are capable of flowing through the souls of the peoples of the Earth. In his life of feeling, at any rate, no one can blind himself to the truth that earthly life can never progress fruitfully along such paths. And so it may be useful today to speak of elements which, in the light of spiritual-scientific knowledge, can unite at all events the whole of civilised mankind.

Knowledge and feeling, of course, are two very different matters, but spiritual-scientific knowledge is much more intimately bound up with the whole being of man, with his innermost nature, than are the abstract truths current in the world of materialism. The truths of Spiritual Science are able to kindle ideas, feelings and impulses of will in human beings. Inner strength develops from a spiritual-scientific knowledge of the elements uniting the different peoples of the Earth and this also intensifies feelings of sympathy and mutual love.

Just as it is true that in the course of evolution man has progressed from an instinctive and unconscious to a conscious life, to a full and free understanding of his mission, so, as regards the future it must be said that vague sentimentality alone will not suffice to unite the peoples of the Earth. A conscious and mutual understanding of what the one may expect of the other—that is what is needed.

In another sphere of life it is comparatively easy today to see the necessity for this unification of men all over the Earth, for we have but to look at the disastrous things that are happening in the world of economics. When we seek for the root cause of these disasters and destructive tendencies, we realise that a striving to make the whole Earth into one economic sphere is an unconscious urge in the whole of mankind today. On the other hand, the peoples of the Earth have not yet reached the point of ennobling their national egoisms sufficiently to enable a collective economy of the whole Earth to arise out of the economic values they individually create. One nation tries to outdo the other in matters of economic advantage. Unreal points of view thus arise among the peoples, whereas the new instincts of mankind call out for a common economic life of the whole Earth—in effect an Earth economy. The leading minds of the times are forever laying stress upon this. There is indeed a striving for a uniform Earth economy in contrast to the separate national economies which have existed right up to the twentieth century, and it is this opposition of the national economies to an Earth economy that has caused the present havoc in economic life.

When it is a question of one nation understanding another or assimilating its spiritual riches, it is not enough simply to travel among other peoples or to be led there by destiny. Mere knowledge of everyday dealings between man and man will never bring about mutual understanding between the peoples. To travel and live among other peoples is not enough, any more than cursory observation of a man's gestures and movements enables us to understand his whole being. It is true that if one has a feeling for such things, a great deal may be conjectured about the inner being of another man from his gestures and movements, but if circumstances are such that his speech is understood, the knowledge is much more fundamental, for one can then receive from him what his own inner being wants to communicate. Is it then possible for something akin to this transmission of inner force, of inner being, to arise between peoples and nations? It cannot inhere merely in speech or language or in those things we observe in the daily life of the peoples, for this is but the intercourse between man and man. Something which transcends the individual human element must be revealed by knowing and understanding another man. We are really faced with a difficulty when we want to speak intelligibly of a nation or people as an entity. Is there anything as real as an external object, as real as external life, which justifies us in speaking of a nation or a people as an entity? We can speak of an individual human being merely from sense-perception of him; but for sense-perception a nation or a people is only a totality of so many individuals. Before we can recognise a nation as a reality we must rise to the super-sensible—it is the only way.

Now a man who undergoes spiritual training, who develops those forces of super-sensible knowledge which otherwise lie slumbering in his daily life, will gradually begin to see a nation or a people as a real being—of a super-sensible order, of course. When he perceives the spiritual, a foreign people is revealed to him as a spiritual being, a super-sensible reality, which—if I may use a somewhat crude expression—pervades and envelops the sense-nature of the individuals belonging to it, like a cloud. Supersensible knowledge alone enables us to penetrate into the real being of a nation or a people, and super-sensible knowledge cannot be acquired merely from the observation of daily life. I want to speak in outline today of how Spiritual Science strives to gain a really profound knowledge of the relationships among the peoples of the Earth. And here it is above all necessary to understand the being of man in the light of Spiritual Science. In a previous lecture here, as well as in my book Riddles of the Soul, published a few years ago, I said that man, as he stands before us in daily life, is not a unitary being, but that three divisions or members, clearly distinct from each other, are revealed in his bodily structure.

In the human organism we have, in the first place, all that is related to and centralised in the head system—the so-called system of nerves and senses. By means of this system man has his sense-perceptions, his thoughts and ideas. Today, as the result of an unenlightened science, it is thought that the whole being of Spirit and soul in man is based upon the system of nerves and senses—is, in fact, a kind of parasite upon the rest of the organism. This is not so. If a brief personal reference is permissible, I may say that more than thirty years' study of the nature and being of man—a study which has always tried to reconcile Spiritual Science with the results of natural science—has led me to confirm this threefold nature of the human organism. It is a general assumption of modern natural science that the life of Spirit and soul runs parallel with the life of nerves and Senses. In reality it is only the thought-life of man that is bound to the system of nerves and senses. Sentient life (feeling) is bound up with the rhythmic processes in the human organism. The feeling-life of man is connected directly with the rhythms of breathing and blood circulation, just as the life of thought and perception is connected with the system of nerves and senses. Similarly, the life of will is connected with the metabolic system (digestion and assimilation) in man. The seemingly lowest division of the human organism—the metabolic system (in the sense of a process, of course, and not of substance)—is the bearer of man's life of will.

In his nature of soul and Spirit, man is also a threefold being. The spiritual will, the feeling-life of the soul, the thinking, ideation and perception directed to external material phenomena—these are the three members or divisions of man's nature of soul and Spirit. These three members correspond to the three members of the physical organism—to the system of nerves and senses, to the rhythmic life of blood circulation and breathing, and to the metabolic life.

Now if we observe human beings in any given regions of the earth, we find that in terms of this threefold organisation they are by no means absolutely the same the whole Earth over. Another great error in modern thought is to imagine that one common social programme could be issued for the whole of the Earth and that men could adjust themselves to it. Human beings are individualised, specialized, in the different regions of the Earth. And those who would learn to know the true being of man as he lives on the Earth must be able to develop love not only for an abstract, universal humanity—for that would be merely an ‘idea’ of humanity, a dead, empty idea. Those who would really understand their fellow-beings must develop love for the individual forms and expressions of human nature in the different regions of the Earth.

In the short time at our disposal it is impossible to characterise all the individual peoples. All that can be done is to consider the main types of earthly humanity. We are led, in the first place, to a very characteristic type and also one of the very oldest—to the oriental, as expressed in many different ways in the ancient Indian peoples and in other Eastern races. This oriental type reveals one common element, especially in the Indian people. The man of the East has grown together, as it were, with the Earth which is his own soil. However clearly it may appear that the oriental has received the Spirit with intense devotion into his heart and soul, however deeply oriental mysticism may impress us, if we study the racial characteristics of the oriental, we shall find that the lofty spirituality we so justly admire is dependent, in his case, upon the experiences of the will flowing in the human being, the will that is, in turn, bound up with the metabolic processes. However paradoxical it may appear at first sight, this very spirituality of the oriental peoples, and especially of the ancient Indian, is something that—to use a crude expression—wells up from the metabolic processes. These processes are, in turn, connected with the processes of Nature in the environment of the oriental. Think of the Indian in very ancient times. Around him are the trees and fruits, everything that Nature in her beauty and wonder gives to man. The oriental unites this with the metabolic processes within him in such a way that the metabolism becomes a kind of continuation of all that is ripening to fruit on the trees and living under the soil in the roots. In his metabolic nature, the oriental has grown together with the fertility and well-being of the Earth. The metabolic process is the bearer of the will—hence the will develops in the inner being of man. But that which develops in the innermost being, in which man is firmly rooted and by means of which he relates himself to his environment—this does not enter very vividly into consciousness. A different element streams into the conscious life of the oriental. Into the feeling and thinking life of the oriental—especially of the most characteristic type—the Indian—there streams something that to all appearance is experienced in the metabolic processes in a material sense. In its spiritual ‘mirror-image,’ however, it appears as spiritual life.

Thus when we enter into all that has come forth from the soul and the thought of the really creative peoples of the East, it appears as a spiritual product of the Earth itself. When we steep ourselves in the Vedas that we pervaded by the light of the Spirit and speak with such intensity to our souls, if we respond to the instinctive subtlety of Vedanta and Yoga philosophy or go deeply into such works as those of Lao Tzu and Confucius, or are drawn to devote ourselves to oriental poetry, oriental wisdom, we never feel that it flows in an individual form from a human personality. Through his metabolic processes the oriental grows together with Nature around him. Nature lives and works on, seethes and surges within him, and when we allow his poetic wisdom to work upon us, it is as though the Earth herself were speaking. The mysteries of the Earth's growth seem to speak to mankind through the lips of the man of the East. We feel that no Western or Central European people could ever interpret the inner Spiritual mysteries of the Earth herself in this way.

The highest types of oriental peoples seem to move over the face of the Earth, expressing in their inner life something that really lives under the surface of the Earth. This grows up from below the Earth and bursts forth in blossoms and fruits, just as it does in the Spirit and soul of the man of the East. The inner essence of the Earth becomes articulate, as it were, in the oriental peoples. We can therefore understand that in accordance with their whole being, they have less feeling for the physical phenomena on the surface of the Earth and the external facts of the material world. Their innermost nature is one with the sub-earthly forces of which the external sense-phenomena are the outcome. They are therefore less concerned with what is taking place on the surface of the Earth. They are ‘metabolic-men.’ But the metabolic processes are expressed, in their case, in the life of soul and Spirit.

Now when an ideal arises before the peoples of the East, what form does it take? The injunction given to pupils by oriental sages was somewhat as follows: ‘You must breathe in a certain way; you must enter into the rhythm of life.’ These teachers instructed their pupils in certain rhythms of breathing and blood circulation. The way in which they taught their pupils of the higher life of soul is highly characteristic. The whole organisation of man as we see him in the ordinary life of the East, belonging to an Asiatic people, and especially to a Southern Asiatic people, is based upon metabolism. When he forms a concrete ideal of how he can become higher man, he develops his rhythmic system, by an act of free-will he strives for something that is higher, that is not given him by Nature.

Now the strange thing is that the further we pass from the Asiatic to the European peoples, and especially to those of Middle Europe, we find an outstanding development of the rhythmic system in the ordinary daily life of man. The peoples, not of Eastern or of Western Europe, but of Middle Europe, possess as a natural characteristic that for which the Indian strives as his ideal of a superman. But it is one thing to have to acquire a quality by dint of self-discipline and free spiritual activity, and another to possess it naturally and instinctively. The man of Middle Europe possesses by nature what the oriental has to develop from out of his metabolic life which is inwardly connected with the Earth. Thus, what is for the oriental an ideal, is for the European a natural possession of daily life; his ideal, therefore, must necessarily be different. The ideal of the European lies one stage higher; it is the life of thought bound up with the life of nerves and senses.

There is a quality of unbridled phantasy in the artistic creations of the oriental. It seems to rise from inner Earth activity, just as vapour rises from water into the clouds. The inner, rhythmic ‘wholeness,’ which is the essence of the life of Middle Europe, enabled the ancient Greek people—who accomplished so much for the whole of modern civilisation—to create what we call European Art. The Greek strove for all that makes manifest the inner harmony of earthly man. The material elements and the etheric-spiritual elements are balanced—and the ‘middle’ man is expressed. The creations of oriental phantasy always run to excess in some direction or other. It is in the artistic conceptions of Greece that the human form was first imbued with harmonious roundness and inner wholeness. This was because man realised his true being in the rhythmic system. When the man of Greece set himself an ideal, it was one he strove to reach by dint of inner discipline of soul, by dint of education. He used the organ of thinking just as the oriental uses the organs connected with rhythm in the human being. The Yogi of India endeavours to regulate his breathing according to the laws of Spirit and soul so that it may bear him above the level of ordinary humanity. The man of Middle Europe trains himself to rise above the instinctive processes of the rhythmic system, of the blood circulation, of the breathing, to what makes him truly man. Out of this the life of thought is developed. But these thoughts, especially in the highest type of Middle European, become merely an ‘interpreter’ of the being of man. This is what strikes us when we turn to the productions of European culture after having steeped ourselves in those of oriental humanity. In the highly spiritual creations of oriental culture we see, as it were, the very blossoming of earthly evolution. Human lips give expression to the speech of the Earth herself. It is not so in the man of Middle European nor was it so in the ancient Greek.

When the man of Middle Europe follows the promptings of his own true nature, when he is not false to himself, when he realises that self-knowledge is the noblest crown of human endeavour, that the representation of the human in Nature and in history is a supreme achievement of man—then he will express as his ideal everything that he himself is as a human being. The very essence of the man of Middle Europe is expressed when he gives free play to his own inherent being. Hence we can understand that the wonderful thought expressed in Goethe's book on Winckelmann could arise only in Middle Europe. I refer to the passage where Goethe summarises the lofty perceptions, profound thought and strong will-impulses of this wonderful man into a description of his own conception of the world, for it is like the very sun of modern culture: “In that man is placed on Nature's pinnacle, he regards himself as another entire Nature, whose task is to bring forth inwardly yet another pinnacle. For this purpose he heightens his powers, imbues himself with perfections and virtues—summons discrimination, order and harmony and rises finally to the production of a work of art.” Man's own spiritual nature gives birth to a new being.

This application of all the forces to the understanding of man himself is especially manifest in the man of Middle Europe—when he is true to his own being. It is only in more modern times that this has fallen into the background. The man of Middle Europe has every motive to consider how he should develop this veneration, understanding and penetration of what is truly human.

If we now look at the East and its peoples from a more purely spiritual point of view, we shall find that the oriental peoples, just because they are ‘metabolic men,’ develop the spirituality which constitutes the connection between the human soul and the Divine. If man's nature is to be complete, he must bring forth, in his inner being, those qualities with which he is not endowed by the elemental world; in his own consciousness he must awaken the antithesis of all that he possesses by nature. Thus the oriental develops a spirituality which makes him conscious of the connection between the human soul and the Divine. The oriental can speak of man's connection with the Divine as a matter of course, in a way that is possible to no other race, in words that touch the very heart. Other peoples of the Earth may subjugate and conquer oriental races and try to instil into them their own idiosyncrasies, laws and regulations, but they do, nevertheless, assimilate what the East has to say about the connection of man with the Divine as something which applies to themselves also.

In modern times we have seen how Western peoples, steeped in materialism though they may be, turn to oriental philosophers such as ancient Laotze to Chinese and Indian conceptions of the world, not so much in search of ideas but in order to find the inner fervour which will enable them to experience man's connection with the Divine. Men steep themselves in oriental literature much more in order that their feelings may be warmed by the way in which the oriental speaks of his connection with the Divine than for the sake of any philosophical content. The abstract nature of the European makes it difficult for him really to understand oriental philosophy. Again and again people who have studied the sayings of Buddha, with all their endless repetitions, have expressed the opinion to me that these sayings ought to be abridged and the repetitions eliminated. My only answer could be: ‘You have no real understanding of the true greatness of oriental philosophy, for it is expressed in the very repetitions which you want to cut out.’ When the oriental steeps himself in the sayings of Buddha, with the repetitions which only irritate people of the West, he is on the way to his ideal the rhythmic recurrence of the motif. The same phrase is repeated over and over again. Now, as we have seen, the oriental lives naturally in the processes of the metabolic system. When he gives himself up to the recurring phrases of Buddha, there arises within him a spiritual counterpart of the system of breathing and blood circulation; he has brought this about by dint of his own free endeavours.

If a European really tries to understand all that is great and holy in the oriental nature, he gains a knowledge which will elude him unless he consciously develops it. It is quite natural that the European should want to eliminate the repetitions in the sayings of Buddha, for he lives in the breathing rhythm and his ideal is to raise himself to the element of thought. When the thought is once grasped he wants no repetitions—he strives to get beyond them. If we are to study these oriental repetitions, we must, in effect, develop another kind of quality—not an intellectual understanding but an inner love for what is expressed in individual forms by the different peoples. Our whole attitude should make us realise that the particular qualities which make one people great are not possessed by the others, and we can understand these qualities only when we are able to love the other Peoples and appreciate the full value of their particular gifts.

It is just when we penetrate into the inner nature and essence of the Peoples of the Earth that we find the differences of their individual natures. And then we realise that the all-embracing sphere of the ‘human’ is not expressed in its entirety through any individual man, or through the members of any one race, but only through the whole of mankind. If anyone would understand what he is in his whole being, let him study the characteristics of the different peoples of the Earth. Let him assimilate the qualities which he himself cannot possess by nature, for only then will he become fully man. Full and complete manhood is a possibility for everyone. Everyone should pay heed to what lives in his own inner being. The revelation vouchsafed to other peoples is not his and he must find it in them. In his heart he feels and knows that this is necessary. If he discovers what is great and characteristic in the other peoples and allows this to penetrate deeply into his own being, he will realise that the purpose of his existence cannot be fulfilled without these other qualities, because they are also part of his own inner striving. The possibility of full manhood lies in every individual, but it must be brought to fulfilment by understanding the special characteristics of the different peoples spread over the Earth. It is in the East, then, that man is able to express with a kind of natural spirituality his connection with the Divine.

When we turn to the peoples of Middle Europe, we find that what is truly characteristic of them is hidden under layers of misconception—and these must be cleared away. Think of all the great philosophers who, having thought about Nature and God in a human sense, have with almost no exception raised another question as well. Nearly every great German Philosopher has been occupied with the question of equity, of rights as between man and man. The search for equity, misunderstood and hindered though it be, is a characteristic of the Middle European peoples. Those who do not recognise this have no understanding of the peoples of Middle Europe, and nothing will divert them from the prevailing materialism (which has quite another source) back to what is fundamentally characteristic of true Teutonic stock.

Just as the man of the East is the interpreter of the Earth because his spiritual life is a blossom or fruit of the Earth herself, so is the Teuton an interpreter of himself, of his own being. He faces himself questioningly, and because of this he faces every other man as his equal. The burning question for him, therefore, is that of equity, of right. Wherever Teutonic thought has striven to fathom the depths of the universe, in men such as Fichte, Hegel or Schelling, it has never been a question of adopting the old Roman tradition of equity but of investigating its very nature and essence. The abstract results of these investigations, to be found in Fichte, Hegel, Schelling and Humboldt, are fundamentally the same thing as we find in Goethe when he seeks along multifarious paths for the expression of the truth, harmony and fullness of man's nature. In this sense Goethe is the representative of the Teutonic, Middle European nature. Just as the oriental faces the Earth, so does the Middle European face man, with self-knowledge.

If we pass to Western Europe and thence to America, we find the figure of the true Westerner expressed in abstract thinking. To use a figure of speech employed, I believe, by that deeply spiritual writer, Rabindranath Tagore, the Westerner is pre-eminently a ‘head-man.’ The oriental is a ‘heart-man,’ for he experiences the process of metabolism in his heart; the Middle European is the ‘breath-man.’ He stands in a rhythmic relationship to the outer world through the rhythmic processes within him. The Westerner is a head-man and Tagore compares him to a ‘spiritual giraffe.’ Tagore loves the Westerner, for when it is a question of describing characteristics, sympathy and antipathy do not necessarily come into play. Tagore compares the Westerner to a spiritual giraffe because he raises everything into abstractions—into abstractions such as gave rise, for instance, to the ‘Fourteen Points’ of President Wilson. Speaking in the sense of spiritual reality, one feels that the Westerner's head is separated from the rest of his body by a long neck and the head can only express in abstract concepts what it offers to the world. A long path has to be trodden before these abstract concepts, these husks of words and ideas, finds their way to the heart, the lungs and the breathing system, and so to the region where they can become feelings and pass over into will.

The characteristic quality of the Western man inheres, then, in what I will call the thinking system. The ideal for which the Middle European strives—which he endeavours to attain as a result of freedom, of free spiritual activity—does not have to be striven for by the Westerner and especially not by the American through this free Spiritual activity, for the Westerner possesses it instinctively. Instinctively he is a man of abstractions. As I have said, it is not the same to possess a quality instinctively as to strive for it by dint of effort. When it has once been acquired it is bound up with man's nature in quite another way. To acquire a quality by dint of free spiritual activity is not the same thing as to possess it instinctively, as a gift of Nature.

Now here lies a great danger. Whereas the Indian in his Yoga philosophy strives upwards to the rhythmic system, and the Middle European to the thinking system, the Westerner, the ‘spiritual giraffe,’ must transcend the merely intellectual processes if he is not to lose his true humanity. As I recently said quite frankly to a gathering attended by a number of Westerners, this is the great responsibility facing the West at the present time. In the case of the Middle Europeans it will be a healthy, free striving that leads them to spirituality, to Spiritual Science. The whole nature of Western man will be lost in an abyss, if, as he strives to rise beyond the thinking-system, he falls into an empty ‘spiritualism,’ seeking for the qualities of soul in a region where the soul does not dwell. Here lies the danger, but also the great responsibility. The danger is that the Westerner may fall into soul-emptiness as he strives to transcend the qualities bestowed on him by Nature; his responsibility is to allow himself to be led to true Spiritual Science, lest by virtue of his dominant position in the world he should lend himself to the downfall of humanity.

It is a solemn duty of the peoples of Middle Europe—for it is part of their nature—to ascend the ladder to spiritual knowledge. But on their path of ascent from the rhythmic, breathing-system to the thinking-system, they gain something else in the sphere of the human. The danger confronting Western peoples is that they may leave the sphere of the human when they set up an ideal for themselves. This really lies at the root of the existence of the many sectarian movements in the West—movements which run counter to the principle of the ‘universal human’ at the present time.

In the oriental, whose metabolic system is so closely related to the Earth, a spiritual activity along the paths or Nature herself arises. The man of the West, with his predominantly developed thinking-system, turns his gaze primarily to the world of sense. It is as though something under the surface of the Earth were working in the oriental; the man of the West seems to pay heed only to what is above the Earth's surface, the phenomena which arise as a result of sun, moon, stars, air, water and the like. The thought-processes themselves, however, have not been derived from what is happening at the periphery. I said in a previous lecture that the spiritual in man cannot be explained by the study of the earthly world around him. The spiritual fruits of the Earth arise in the very being of the true oriental and he knows himself, as man, with the living Spirit within him, to be a Citizen of the whole Cosmos—a member not only of the Earth but of the whole Cosmos. The Westerner, with his more highly developed thinking-system, has been deprived of this Cosmos by modern science, and is left with nothing but the possibility to calculate it in mathematical and mechanical formulae. The Westerner must realise that the origin of his soul is cosmic, that indeed he could not exist as a thinking being if this were not so, and he must also realise cold, barren mathematics is the only science which remains to him for the purpose of explaining the Cosmos. The outpourings of the Earth herself have become part of the very being of the oriental—his poetic wisdom is like a blossom of the Earth. The Middle European has to recognise that his essential human quality is revealed in man and through man. In effect the human being confronts himself.

The qualities of most value in the man of the West are those bestowed not by the Earth, but by the Cosmos. But the only means he has of approaching these cosmic, super-sensible gifts is by mathematical calculation, by equally dry spectral analysis or by similar hypotheses. What the Middle European seeks as an expression of equity between man and man is sought by the Westerner through his dedication to economic affairs, for the human rights he values as an expression of the spirit seem to him to emerge only as the fruit of economic life. Hence it is not surprising that Karl Marx left Germany, where he might have learnt to recognise the nature of man in a Goethean, humanistic sense, and went to the West, to England, where his gaze was diverted from the truly human element and he was misled with the belief that what man can know is nothing but an ideology, a fact of economic life. This is not a truth in the absolute sense, but is fundamental to the nature of the man of the West, just as it is fundamental to the oriental peoples to behold Nature side by side with the being of man and then to speak of the connection of the human soul with the Divine as a self-evident fact. That is why many men of the West who feel the necessity for looking up to the Divine—for, as I have already said, all men feel the need at least to become complete man—are aware of a longing, even when they try to conquer oriental peoples, to receive from them what they have to say about man's connection with the Divine. Whether we apply this to smaller races and individual peoples, or confine ourselves to what is typical everywhere we see that man in his whole nature is not expressed in the members of any one people or race. Full manhood is as yet only an urge within us, but this urge must grow into a love for all humanity, for those qualities we do not ourselves possess by nature but can acquire if we sincerely seek for knowledge of the nature of other peoples of the Earth.

The internationalism prevailing in the age of Goethe assumed this form. It is this kind of internationalism that permeates such thoughts as are found, for instance, in The Boundaries of the State by William Von Humboldt. It is the striving of a true cosmopolitanism which, by assimilating all that can be acquired from a love extended to other races, ennobles and uplifts the individual people; knowledge of one's own race is sought by assimilating all that is idealistic, great and beautiful in other peoples of the Earth. It is because of this that in Germany's days of spiritual prime there arose from out of the rhythmic life of her people a lofty cosmopolitanism which had been sought from among all other peoples. Just think how Herder's search took him among other peoples, how he tried to unravel the deepest being of all peoples of the Earth! How penetrated he was by the thought that permeating the individual ‘man of flesh’ there is another man, greater and more powerful, who can be discovered only when we are able to pour ourselves out over all peoples.

We cannot help contrasting this spirit, which at the turn of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries was the germ of greatness in Middle Europe, with the internationalism of today. In its present form, internationalism is not a living pulse in the world; it is preached throughout the world in the form of Marxism—and Marxism believes only in human thinking. Internationalism nowadays is a more or less weakened form of Marxism. There is no longer any inkling of the differentiation of full and complete humanity over the Earth. An abstraction is set up and is supposed to represent humanity, to represent man. Such internationalism is not the first stage of an ascent but the last stage of a decline, because it is devoid of all endeavours to reach after true internationality, which always ennobles the individual stock. The kind of internationalism which appears in Marxism and all that has developed from it is the result of remaining stationary within a one-sided and wholly unpractical system of thought that is applied merely to the world of sense and has not penetrated to the real national qualities. True internationalism, by contrast, springs from a love which goes out to all peoples and races in order that the light received from them may be kindled in the deeds, concepts and creations of one's own people. Each individual race must so find its place in the great chorus of the peoples on the Earth that it contributes to the full understanding which can alone unite them all in real and mutual knowledge.

In this lecture it has not been my object to speak of matters which might seem to indicate a ‘programme.’ I wanted to speak of the spiritual-scientific knowledge that is kindled in the spiritual investigator as a result of his higher knowledge of the communal life of man on the Earth, for this true communal life is indeed possible.

One can, of course, speak from many different points of view of what is necessary for the immediate future of humanity; one can speak of this impulse or that. But it must be realised that a spiritual comfort flowing from the knowledge I have tried to indicate, more in fleeting outline than in detail, may be added to all that can be said in regard to social, political or educational affairs. It is a comfort that may flow from knowledge of the rhythm, I say expressly the possible rhythm, of the historical life of humanity.

This lecture should show you that the hatred and antipathy in the world today can indeed be followed by international love with healing in its wings. This is indeed possible. But we are living in an age when all that is possible must be consciously, deliberately and freely striven for by men. There must be knowledge of the conditions requisite for uniting the peoples of the Earth, in order that, as a result of this knowledge, each individual people may help to make the waves of love follow those of hatred. Human love alone has power to heal the wounds of hatred. If mankind has no wish for this love, chaos will remain. That is the terrible alternative now facing men who have knowledge. Those who realise its terrors know that the souls of men dare not sleep, for otherwise, as a result of the powerlessness caused by the sleep into which the souls of the peoples have fallen, the healing waves of love will not be able to flow over the waves of hatred.

Men who realise this will acquire the kind of knowledge that flows from a spiritual conception of the relationships between the peoples. They will take this knowledge into their feeling—love for humanity will be born. They will take this knowledge into their will—deeds for humanity will be accomplished. The evolution of the age, with all the terrible paralysis that is appearing at the present time, places a solemn duty before the soul: to gather together all that can unite mankind in love and array it in opposition to the destructive elements that have made their appearance in recent times. This quest for loving unification, for unifying love is not merely a vague feeling. To those who understand the conditions of life today, it is the very highest duty of man.

My dear Friends,

After the words which have just been read out, some of which were written over 30 years ago, I would like to say that in the short time at our disposal I shall at most be able to contribute a few side-lights which may help you in forming your outlook upon Nature. I hope that in no very distant future we shall be able to continue. On this occasion, as you must also realize, I was only told that this lecture-course was hoped-for after my arrival here. What I can therefore give during these days will be no more than an episode.

What I am hoping to contribute may well be of use to those of you who are teachers and educators—not to apply directly in your lessons, but as a fundamental trend and tendency in Science, which should permeate your teaching. In view of all the aberrations to which the Science of Nature in our time has been subject, for the teacher and educator it is of great importance to have the right direction of ideas, at any rate in the background.

To the words which our friend Dr. Stein has kindly been recalling, I may add one more. It was in the early nineties. The Frankfurter Freier Hochstift had invited me to speak on Goethe's work in Science. I then said in introduction that I should mainly confine myself to his work in the organic Sciences. For to carry Goethe's world-conception into our physical and chemical ideas, was as yet quite impossible. Through all that lives and works in the Physics and Chemistry of today, our scientists are fated in regard, whatever takes its start from Goethe in this realm, as being almost unintelligible from their point of view. Thus, I opined, we shall have to wait till physicists and chemists will have witnessed—by their own researches—a kind of “reductio ad absurdum” of the existing theoretic structure of their Science. Then and then only will Goethe's outlook come into its own, also in this domain.

I shall attempt in these lectures to establish a certain harmony between what we may call the experimental side of Science and what concerns the outlook, the idea, the fundamental views which we can gain on the results of experiment. Today, by way of introduction,—and, as the saying goes, “theoretically”—I will put forward certain aspects that shall help our understanding. In today's lecture it will be my specific aim to help you understand that contrast between the current, customary science and the kind of scientific outlook which can be derived from Goethe's general world-outlook. We must begin by reflecting, perhaps a little theoretically, upon the premisses of present-day scientific thinking altogether. The scientists who think of Nature in the customary manner of our time, generally have no very clear idea of what constitutes the field of their researches. “Nature” has grown to be a rather vague and undefined conception. Therefore we will not take our start from the prevailing idea of what Nature is, but from the way in which the scientist of modern time will generally work. Admittedly, this way of working is already undergoing transformation, and there are signs which we may read as the first dawning of a new world-outlook. Yet on the whole, what I shall characterize (though in a very brief introductory outline) may still be said to be prevailing.

The scientist today seeks to approach Nature from three vantage-points. In the first place he is at pains to observe Nature in such a way that from her several creatures and phenomena he may form concepts of species, kind and genus. He sub-divides and classifies the beings and phenomena of Nature. You need only recall how in external, sensory experience so many single wolves, single hyenas, single phenomena of warmth, single phenomena of electricity are given to the human being, who thereupon attempts to gather up the single phenomena into kinds and species. So then he speaks of the species “wolf” or “hyena”, likewise he classifies the phenomena into species, thus grouping and comprising what is given, to begin with, in many single experiences. Now we may say, this first important activity is already taken more or less unconsciously for granted. Scientists in our time do not reflect that they should really examine how these “universals”, these general ideas, are related to the single data.

The second thing, done by the man of today in scientific research, is that he tries by experiment, or by conceptual elaboration of the results of experiment, to arrive at what he calls the “causes” of phenomena. Speaking of causes, our scientists will have in mind forces or substances or even more universal entities. They speak for instance of the force of electricity, the force of magnetism, the force of heat or warmth, and so on. They speak of an unknown “ether” or the like, as underlying the phenomena of light and electricity. From the results of experiment they try to arrive at the properties of this ether. Now you are well aware how very controversial is all that can be said about the “ether” of Physics. There is one thing however to which we may draw attention even at this stage. In trying, as they put it, to go back to the causes of phenomena, the scientists are always wanting to find their way from what is known into some unknown realm. They scarcely ever ask if it is really justified thus to proceed from the known to the unknown. They scarcely trouble, for example, to consider if it is justified to say that when we perceive a phenomenon of light or colour, what we subjectively describe as the quality of colour is the effect on us, upon our soul, our nervous apparatus, of an objective process that is taking place in the universal ether—say a wave-movement in the ether. They do not pause to think, whether it is justified thus to distinguish (what is what they really do) between the “subjective” event and the “objective”, the latter being the supposed wave-movement in the ether, or else the interaction thereof with processes in ponderable matter.

Shaken though it now is to some extent, this kind of scientific outlook was predominant in the 19th century, and we still find it on all hands in the whole way the phenomena are spoken of; it still undoubtedly prevails in scientific literature to this day.

Now there is also a third way in which the scientist tries to get at the configuration of Nature. He takes the phenomena to begin with—say, such a simple phenomenon as that a stone, let go, will fall to earth, or if suspended by a string, will pull vertically down towards the earth. Phenomena like this the scientist sums up and so arrives at what he calls a “Law of Nature”. This statement for example would be regarded as a simple “Law of Nature”: “Every celestial body attracts to itself the bodies that are upon it”. We call the force of attraction Gravity or Gravitation and then express how it works in certain “Laws”. Another classical example are the three statements known as “Kepler's Laws”.

It is in these three ways that “scientific research” tries to get near to Nature. Now I will emphasize at the very outset that the Goethean outlook upon Nature strives for the very opposite in all three respects. In the first place, when he began to study natural phenomena, the classification into species and genera, whether of the creatures or of the facts and events of Nature, at once became problematical for Goethe. He did not like to see the many concrete entities and facts of Nature reduced to all these rigid concepts of species, family and genus; what he desired was to observe the gradual transition of one phenomenon into another, or of one form of manifestation of an entity into another. He felt concerned, not with the subdivision and classification into genera, but with the metamorphosis both of phenomena and of the several creatures. Also the quest of so-called “causes” in Nature, which Science has gone on pursuing ever since his time, was not according to Goethe's way of thinking. In this respect it is especially important for us to realize the fundamental difference between natural science and research as pursued today and on the other hand the Goethean approach to Nature.

The Science of our time makes experiments; having thus studied the phenomena, it then tries to form ideas about the so-called causes that are supposed to be there behind them;—behind the subjective phenomenon of light or colour for example, the objective wave-movement in the ether. Not in this style did Goethe apply scientific thinking. In his researches into Nature he does not try to proceed from the so-called “known” to the so-called “unknown”. He always wants to stay within the sphere of what is known, nor in the first place is he concerned to enquire whether the latter is merely subjective, or objective. Goethe does not entertain such concepts as of the “subjective” phenomena of colour and the “objective” wave-movements in outer space. What he beholds spread out in space and going on in time is for him one, a single undivided whole. He does not face it with the question, subjective or objective? His use of scientific thinking and scientific method is not to draw conclusions from the known to the unknown; he will apply all thinking and all available methods to put the phenomena themselves together till in the last resort he gets the kind of phenomena which he calls archetypal,—the Ur-phenomena. These archetypal phenomena—once more, regardless of “subjective or objective”—bring to expression what Goethe feels is fundamental to a true outlook upon Nature and the World. Goethe therefore remains amid the sequence of actual phenomena; he only sifts and simplifies them and then calls “Ur-phenomenon” the simplified and clarified phenomenon, ideally transparent and comprehensive.

Thus Goethe looks upon the whole of scientific method—so to call it—purely and simply as a means of grouping the phenomena. Staying amid the actual phenomena, he wants to group them in such a way that they themselves express their secrets. He nowhere seeks to recur from the so-called “known” to an “unknown” of any kind. Hence too for Goethe in the last resort there are not what may properly be called “Laws of Nature”. He is not looking for such Laws. What he puts down as the quintessence of his researches are simple facts—the fact, for instance, of how light will interact with matter that is in its path. Goethe puts into words how light and matter interact. That is no “law”; it is a pure and simple fact. And upon facts like this he seeks to base his contemplation, his whole outlook upon Nature. What he desires, fundamentally, is a rational description of Nature. Only for him there is a difference between the mere crude description of a phenomenon as it may first present itself, where it is complicated still and untransparent, and the description which emerges when one has sifted it, so that the simple essentials and they alone stand out. This then—the Urphenomenon—is what Goethe takes to be fundamental, in place of the unknown entities or the conceptually defined “Laws” of customary Science.

One fact may throw considerable light on what is seeking to come into our Science by way of Goetheanism, and on what now obtains in Science. It is remarkable: few men have ever had so clear an understanding of the relation of the phenomena of Nature to mathematical thinking as Goethe had. Goethe himself not having been much of a mathematician, this is disputed no doubt. Some people think he had no clear idea of the relation of natural phenomena to those mathematical formulations which have grown ever more beloved in Science, so much so that in our time they are felt to be the one and only firm foundation. Increasingly in modern time, the mathematical way of studying the phenomena of Nature—I do not say directly, the mathematical study of Nature; it would not be right to put it in these words, but the study of natural phenomena in terms of mathematical formulae—has grown to be the determining factor in the way we think even of Nature herself.

Concerning these things we really must reach clarity. You see, dear Friends, along the accustomed way of approach to Nature we have three things to begin with—things that are really exercised by man before he actually reaches Nature. The first is common or garden Arithmetic. In studying Nature nowadays we do a lot of arithmetic—counting and calculating. Arithmetic—we must be clear on this—is something man understands on its own ground, in and by itself. When we are counting it makes no difference what we count. Learning arithmetic, we receive something which, to begin with, has no reference to the outer world. We may count peas as well as electrons. The way we recognize that our methods of counting and calculating are correct is altogether different from the way we contemplate and form conclusions about the outer processes to which our arithmetic is then applied.

The second of the three to which I have referred is again a thing we do before we come to outer Nature. I mean Geometry,—all that is known by means of pure Geometry. What a cube or an octahedron is, and the relations of their angles,—all these are things which we determine without looking into outer Nature. We spin and weave them out of ourselves. We may make outer drawings on them, but this is only to serve mental convenience, not to say inertia. Whatever we may illustrate by outer drawings, we might equally well imagine purely in the mind. Indeed it is very good for us to imagine more of these things purely in the mind, using the crutches of outer illustration rather less. Thus, what we have to say concerning geometrical form is derived from a realm which, to begin with, is quite away from outer Nature. We know what we have to say about a cube without first having had to read it in a cube of rock-salt. Yet in the latter we must find it. So we ourselves do something quite apart from Nature and then apply it to the latter.

And then there is the third thing which we do, still before reaching outer Nature. I am referring to what we do in “Phoronomy” so-called, or Kinematics, i.e. the science of Movement. Now it is very important for you to be clear on this point,—to realize that Kinematics too is, fundamentally speaking, still remote from what we call the “real” phenomena of Nature. Say I imagine an object to be moving from the point \(a\) to the point \(b\) (Figure 1a). I am not looking at any moving object; I just imagine it. Then I can always imagine this movement from \(a\) to \(b\), indicated by an arrow in the figure, to be compounded of two distinct movements. Think of it thus: the point \(a\) is ultimately to get to \(b\), but we suppose it does not go there at once. It sets out in this other direction and reaches \(c\). If it then subsequently moves from \(c\) to \(b\), it does eventually get to \(b\). Thus I can also imagine the movement from \(a\) to \(b\) so that it does not go along the line \(ab\) but along the line, or the two lines, \(ac\) and \(cb\). The movement \(ab\) is then compounded of the movements \(ac\) and \(cb\), i.e. of two distinct movements. You need not observe any process in outer Nature; you can simply think it—picture it to yourself in thought—how that the movement from \(a\) to \(b\) is composed of the two other movements. That is to say, in place of the one movement the two other movements might be carried out with the same ultimate effect. And when in thinking I picture this. The thought—the mental picture—is spun out of myself. I need have made no outer drawing; I could simply have instructed you in thought to form the mental picture; you could not but have found it valid. Yet if in outer Nature there is really something like the point \(a\)—perhaps a little ball, a grain of shot—which in one instance moves from \(a\) to \(b\) and in another from \(a\) to \(c\) and then from \(c\) to \(b\), what I have pictured to myself in thought will really happen. So then it is in kinematics, in the science of movement also; I think the movements to myself, yet what I think proves applicable to the phenomena of Nature and must indeed hold good among them.

Thus we may truly say: In Arithmetic, in Geometry and in Phoronomy or Kinematics we have the three preliminary steps that go before the actual study of Nature. Spun as they are purely out of ourselves, the concepts which we gain in all these three are none the less valid for what takes place in real Nature.

And now I beg you to remember the so-called Parallelogram of forces, (Figure 1b). This time, the point a will signify a material thing—some little grain of material substance. I exert a force to draw it on from \(a\) to \(b\). Mark the difference between the way I am now speaking and the way I spoke before. Before, I spoke of movement as such; now I am saying that a force draws the little ball from \(a\) to \(b\). Suppose the measure of this force, pulling from \(a\) to \(b\), to be five grammes; you can denote it by a corresponding length in this direction. With a force of five grammes I am pulling the little ball from \(a\) to \(b\). Now I might also do it differently. Namely I might first pull with a certain force from \(a\) to \(c\). Pulling from \(a\) to \(c\) (with a force denoted by this length) I need a different force than when I pulled direct from \(a\) to \(b\). Then I might add a second pull, in the direction of the line from \(c\) to \(b\), and with a force denoted by the length of this line. Having pulled in the first instance from a towards \(b\) with a force of five grammes, I should have to calculate from this figure, how big the pull \(ac\) and also how big the pull \(cd\) would have to be. Then if I pulled simultaneously with forces represented by the lines \(ac\) and \(ad\) of the parallelogram, I should be pulling the object along in such a way that it eventually got to \(b\); thus I can calculate how strongly I must pull towards \(c\) and \(d\) respectively. Yet I cannot calculate this in the same way as I did the displacements in our previous example. What I found previously (as to the movement pure and simple), that I could calculate, purely in thought. Not so when a real pull, a real force is exercised. Here I must somehow measure the force; I must approach Nature herself; I must go on from thought to the world of facts. If once you realize this difference between the Parallelogram of Movements and that of Forces, you have a clear and sharp formulation of the essential difference between all those things that can be determined within the realm of thought, and those that lie beyond the range of thoughts and mental pictures. You can reach movements but not forces with your mental activity. Forces you have to measure in the outer world. The fact that when two pulls come into play—the one from \(a\) to \(c\), the other from \(a\) to \(d\),—the thing is actually pulled from \(a\) to \(b\) according to the Parallelogram of Forces, this you cannot make sure of in any other way than by an outer experiment. There is no proof by dint of thought, as for the Parallelogram of Movements. It must be measured and ascertained externally. Thus in conclusion we may say: while we derive the parallelogram of movements by pure reasoning, the parallelogram of forces must be derived empirically, by dint of outer experience. Distinguishing the parallelogram of movements and that of forces, you have the difference—clear and keen—between Phoronomy and Mechanics, or Kinematics and Mechanics. Mechanics has to do with forces, no mere movements; it is already a Natural Science. Mechanics is concerned with the way forces work in space and time. Arithmetic, Geometry and Kinematics are not yet Natural Sciences in the proper sense. To reach the first of the Natural Sciences, which is Mechanics, we have to go beyond the life of ideas and mental pictures.

Even at this stage our contemporaries fail to think clearly enough. I will explain by an example, how great is the leap from kinematics into mechanics. The kinematical phenomena can still take place entirely within a space of our own thinking; mechanical phenomena on the other hand must first be tried and tested by us in the outer world. Our scientists however do not envisage the distinction clearly. They always tend rather to confuse what can still be seen in purely mathematical ways, and what involves realities of the outer world. What, in effect, must be there, before we can speak of a parallelogram of forces? So long as we are only speaking of the parallelogram of movements, no actual body need be there; we need only have one in our thought. For the parallelogram of forces on the other hand there must be a mass—a mass, that possesses weight among other things. This you must not forget. There must be a mass at the point a, to begin with. Now we may well feel driven to enquire: What then is a mass? What is it really? And we shall have to admit: Here we already get stuck! The moment we take leave of things which we can settle purely in the world of thought so that they then hold good in outer Nature, we get into difficult and uncertain regions. You are of course aware how scientists proceed. Equipped with arithmetic, geometry and kinematics, to which they also add a little dose of mechanics, they try to work out a mechanics of molecules and atoms; for they imagine what is called matter to be thus sub-divided, In terms of this molecular mechanics they then try to conceive the phenomena of Nature, which, in the form in which they first present themselves, they regard as our own subjective experience.

We take hold of a warm object, for example. The scientist will tell us: What you are calling the heat or warmth is the effect on your own nerves. Objectively, there is the movement of molecules and atoms. These you can study, after the laws of mechanics. So then they study the laws of mechanics, of atoms and molecules; indeed, for a long time they imagined that by so doing they would at last contrive to explain all the phenomena of Nature. Today, of course, this hope is rather shaken. But even if we do press forward to the atom with our thinking, even then we shall have to ask—and seek the answer by experiment—How are the forces in the atom? How does the mass reveal itself in its effects,—how does it work? And if you put this question, you must ask again: How will you recognize it? You can only recognize the mass by its effects.

The customary way is to recognize the smallest unit bearer of mechanical force by its effect, in answering this question: If such a particle brings another minute particle—say, a minute particle of matter weighing one gramme—into movement, there must be some force proceeding from the matter in the one, which brings the other into movement. If then the given mass brings the other mass, weighing one gramme, into movement in such a way that the latter goes a centimetre a second faster in each successive second, the former mass will have exerted a certain force. This force we are accustomed to regard as a kind of universal unit. If we are then able to say of some force that it is so many times greater than the force needed to make a gramme go a centimetre a second quicker every second, we know the ratio between the force in question and the chosen universal unit. If we express it as a weight, it is 0.001019 grammes' weight. Indeed, to express what this kind of force involves, we must have recourse to the balance—the weighing-machine. The unit force is equivalent to the downward thrust that comes into play when 0.001019 grammes are being weighed. So then I have to express myself in terms of something very outwardly real if I want to approach what is called “mass” in this Universe. Howsoever I may think it out, I can only express the concept “mass” by introducing what I get to know in quite external ways, namely a weight. In the last resort, it is by a weight that I express the mass, and even if I then go on to atomize it, I still express it by a weight.

I have reminded you of all this, in order clearly to describe the point at which we pass, from what can still be determined “a priori”, into the realm of real Nature. We need to be very clear on this point. The truths of arithmetic, geometry and kinematics,—these we undoubtedly determine apart from external Nature. But we must also be clear, to what extent these truths are applicable to that which meets us, in effect, from quite another side—and, to begin with, in mechanics. Not till we get to mechanics, have we the content of what we call “phenomenon of Nature”.

All this was clear to Goethe. Only where we pass on from kinematics to mechanics can we begin to speak at all of natural phenomena. Aware as he was of this, he knew what is the only possible relation of Mathematics to Natural Science, though Mathematics be ever so idolized even for this domain of knowledge.

To bring this home, I will adduce one more example. Even as we may think of the unit element, for the effects of Force in Nature, as a minute atom-like body which would be able to impart an acceleration of a centimetre per second per second to a gramme-weight, so too with every manifestation of Force, we shall be able to say that the force proceeds from one direction and works towards another. Thus we may well grow accustomed—for all the workings of Nature—always to look for the points from which the forces proceed. Precisely this has grown habitual, nay dominant, in Science. Indeed in many instances we really find it so. There are whole fields of phenomena which we can thus refer to the points from which the forces, dominating the phenomena, proceed. We therefore call such forces “centric forces”, inasmuch as they always issue from point-centres. It is indeed right to think of centric forces wherever we can find so many single points from which quite definite forces, dominating a given field of phenomena, proceed. Nor need the forces always come into play. It may well be that the point-centre in question only bears in it the possibility, the potentiality as it were, for such a play of forces to arise, whereas the forces do not actually come into play until the requisite conditions are fulfilled in the surrounding sphere. We shall have instances of this during the next few days. It is as though forces were concentrated at the points in question,—forces however that are not yet in action. Only when we bring about the necessary conditions, will they call forth actual phenomena in their surroundings. Yet we must recognize that in such point or space forces are concentrated, able potentially to work on their environment.

This in effect is what we always look for, when speaking of the World in terms of Physics. All physical research amounts to this: we follow up the centric forces to their centres; we try to find the points from which effects can issue, For this kind of effect in Nature, we are obliged to assume that there are centres, charged as it were with possibilities of action in certain directions. And we have sundry means of measuring these possibilities of action; we can express in stated measures, how strongly such a point or centre has the potentiality of working. Speaking in general terms, we call the measure of a force thus centred and concentrated a “potential” or “potential force”. In studying these effects of Nature we then have to trace the potentials of the centric forces,—so we may formulate it. We look for centres which we then investigate as sources of potential forces.

Such, in effect, is the line taken by that school of Science which is at pains to express everything in mechanical terms. It looks for centric forces and their potentials. In this respect our need will be to take one essential step—out into actual Nature—whereby we shall grow fully conscious of the fact: You cannot possibly understand any phenomenon in which Life plays a part if you restrict yourself to this method, looking only for the potentials of centric forces. Say you were studying the play of forces in an animal or vegetable embryo or germ-cell; with this method you would never find your way. No doubt it seems an ultimate ideal to the Science of today, to understand even organic phenomena in terms of potentials, of centric forces of some kind. It will be the dawn of a new world-conception in this realm when it is recognized that the thing cannot be done in this way, Phenomena in which Life is working can never be understood in terms of centric forces. Why, in effect,—why not? Diagrammatically, let us here imagine that we are setting out to study transient, living phenomena of Nature in terms of Physics. We look for centres,—to study the potential effects that may go out from such centres. Suppose we find the effect. If I now calculate the potentials, say for the three points \(a\), \(b\) and \(c\), I find that \(a\) will work thus and thus on \(A\), \(B\) and \(C\), or \(c\) on \(A'\), \(B'\) and \(C'\); and so on. I should thus get a notion of how the integral effects will be, in a certain sphere, subject to the potentials of such and such centric forces. Yet in this way I could never explain any process involving Life. In effect, the forces that are essential to a living thing have no potential; they are not centric forces. If at a given point \(d\) you tried to trace the physical effects due to the influences of \(a\), \(b\) and \(c\), you would indeed be referring to the effects to centric forces, and you could do so. But if you want to study the effects of Life you can never do this. For these effects, there are no centres such as \(a\) or \(b\) or \(c\). Here you will only take the right direction with your thinking when you speak thus: Say that at \(d\) there is something alive. I look for the forces to which the life is subject. I shall not find them in \(a\), nor in \(b\), nor in \(c\), nor when I go still farther out. I only find them when as it were I go to the very ends of the world—and, what is more, to the entire circumference at once. Taking my start from \(d\), I should have to go to the outermost ends of the Universe and imagine forces to the working inward from the spherical circumference from all sides, forces which in their interplay unite in \(d\). It is the very opposite of the centric forces with their potentials. How to calculate a potential for what works inward from all sides, from the infinitudes of space? In the attempt, I should have to dismember the forces; one total force would have to be divided into ever smaller portions. Then I should get nearer and nearer the edge of the World:—the force would be completely sundered, and so would all my calculation. Here in effect it is not centric forces; it is cosmic, universal forces that are at work. Here, calculation ceases.

Once more, you have the leap—the leap, this time, from that in Nature which is not alive to that which is. In the investigation of Nature we shall only find our way aright if we know what the leap is from Kinematics to Mechanics, and again what the leap is from external, inorganic Nature into those realms that are no longer accessible to calculation,—where every attempted calculation breaks asunder and every potential is dissolved away. This second leap will take us from external inorganic Nature into living Nature, and we must realize that calculation ceases where we want to understand what is alive.

Now in this explanation I have been neatly dividing all that refers to potentials and centric forces and on the other hand all that leads out into the cosmic forces. Yet in the Nature that surrounds us they are not thus apart. You may put the question: Where can I find an object where only centric forces work with their potentials, and on the other hand where is the realm where cosmic forces work, which do not let you calculate potentials? An answer can indeed be given, and it is such as to reveal the very great importance of what is here involved. For we may truly say: All that Man makes by way of machines—all that is pieced together by Man from elements supplied by Nature—herein we find the purely centric forces working, working according to their potentials. What is existing in Nature outside us on the other hand—even in inorganic Nature—can never be referred exclusively to centric forces. In Nature there is no such thing; it never works completely in that way: Save in the things made artificially by Man, the workings of centric forces and cosmic are always flowing together in their effects. In the whole realm of so-called Nature there is nothing in the proper sense un-living. The one exception is what Man makes artificially; man-made machines and mechanical devices.

The truth of this was profoundly clear to Goethe. In him, it was a Nature-given instinct, and his whole outlook upon Nature was built upon this basis. Herein we have the quintessence of the contrast between Goethe and the modern Scientist as represented by Newton. The scientists of modern time have only looked in one direction, always observing external Nature in such a way as to refer all things to centric forces,—as it were to expunge all that in Nature which cannot be defined in terms of centric forces and their potentials. Goethe could not make do with such an outlook. What was called “Nature” under this influence seemed to him a void abstraction. There is reality for him only where centric forces and peripheric or cosmic forces are alike concerned,—where there is interplay between the two. On this polarity, in the last resort, his Theory of Colour is also founded, of which we shall be speaking in more detail in the next few days.

All this, dear Friends, I have been saying to the end that we may understand how the relation is even of Man himself to all his study and contemplation of Nature.—We must be willing to bethink ourselves in this way, the more so as the time has come at last when the impossibility of the existing view of Nature is beginning to be felt—subconsciously, at least. In some respects there is at least a dawning insight that these things must change. People begin to see that the old view will serve no longer. No doubt they are still laughed at when they say so, but the time is not so distant when this derision too will cease. The time is not so very distant when even Physics will be such as to enable one to speak in Goethe's sense. Men will perhaps begin to speak of Colour, for example, more in Goethe's spirit when another rampart has been shaken, which, though reputed impregnable, is none the less beginning to be undermined. I mean the theory of Gravitation. Ideas are now emerging almost every year, shaking the old Newtonian conceptions about Gravitation, and bearing witness how impossible it is to make do with these old conceptions, built as they are on the exclusive mechanism of centric forces.

Today, I think, both teachers who instruct the young, and altogether those who want to play an active, helpful part in the development of culture, must seek a clearer picture of Man's relation to Nature and how it needs to be.

My dear Friends,

Yesterday I was saying how in our study of Nature we have upon the one hand the purely kinematical, geometrical and arithmetical truths,—truths we are able to gain simply from our own life of thought. We form our thoughts about all that, which in the physical processes around us can be counted, or which is spatial and kinematical in form and movement. This we can spin, as it were, out of our own life of thought. We derive mathematical formulae concerning all that can be counted and computed or that is spatial in form and movement, and it is surely significant that all the truths we thus derive by thought also prove applicable to the processes of Nature. Yet on the other hand it is no less significant that we must have recourse to quite external experiences the moment we go beyond what can be counted and computed or what is purely spatial or kinematical. Indeed we need only go on to the realm of Mass, for it to be so.

In yesterday's lecture we made this clear to ourselves. While in phoronomy we can construct Nature's processes in our own inner life, we now have to leap across into the realm of outer, empirical, purely physical experience. We saw this pretty clearly in yesterday's lecture, and it emerged that modern Physics does not really understand what this leap involves. Till we take steps to understand it, it will however be quite impossible ever to gain valid ideas of what is meant or should be meant by the word “Ether” in Physics. As I said yesterday, present-day Physics (though now a little less sure in this respect) still mostly goes on speaking for example of the phenomena of light and colour rather as follows:—We ourselves are affected, say, by an impression of light or colour—we, that is, as beings of sense and nerve, or even beings of soul. This effect however is subjective. The objective process, going on outside in space and time, is a movement in the ether. Yet if you look it up in the text-books or go among the physicists to ascertain what ideas they have about this “ether” which is supposed to bring about the phenomena of light, you will find contradictory and confused ideas. Indeed, with the resources of Physics as it is today it is not really possible to gain true or clear ideas of what deserves the name of “ether”.

We will now try to set out upon the path that can really lead to a bridging of the gulf between phoronomy and even only mechanics,—inasmuch as mechanics already has to do with forces and with masses. I will write down a certain formula, putting it forward today simply as a well-known theorem. (We can go into it again another time so that those among you who may no longer recall it from your school days can then revise what is necessary for the understanding of it. Now I will simply adduce the essential elements to bring the formula before your minds.)

Let us suppose, first in the sense of pure kinematics, that a point (in such a case we always have to say, a point) is moving in a certain direction. For the moment, we are considering the movement pure and simple, not its causes. The point will be moving more or less quickly or slowly. We say it moves with a greater or lesser “velocity”. Let us call the velocity \(v\). This velocity, once more, may be greater or it may be smaller. So long as we go no farther than to observe that the point moves with such and such velocity, we are in the realm of pure kinematics. But this would not yet lead us to real outer Nature,—not even to what is mechanical in Nature. To approach Nature we must consider how the point comes to be moving. The moving object cannot be the mere thought of a point. Really to move, it must be something in outer space. In short, we must suppose a force to be acting on the point. I will call \(v\) the velocity and \(p\) the force that is acting on the point. Also we will suppose the force not only to be working instantaneously,—pressing upon the point for a single moment which of course would also cause it to move off with a certain velocity if there were no hindrance—but we will presuppose that the force is working continuously, so that the same force acts upon the point throughout its path. Let us call \(s\) the length of the path, all along which the force is acting on the point. Finally we must take account of the fact that the point must be something in space, and this “something” may be bigger or it may be smaller; accordingly, we shall say that the point has a greater or lesser mass. We express the mass, to begin with, by a weight. We can weigh the object which the force is moving and express the mass of it in terms of weight. Let us call the mass, \(m\).

Now if the force \(p\) is acting on the mass \(m\), a certain effect will of course be produced. The effect shows itself, in that the mass moves onward not with uniform speed but more and more quickly. The velocity gets bigger. This too we must take into account; we have an ever growing velocity, and there will be a certain measure of this increase of velocity. A smaller force, acting on the same mass, will also make it move quicker and quicker, but to a lesser extent; a larger force, acting on the same mass, will make it move quicker more quickly. We call the rate of increase of velocity the acceleration; let us denote the acceleration by \(g\). Now what will interest us above all is this:—(I am reminding you of a formula which you most probably know; I only call it to your mind.) Multiply the force which is acting on the given mass by the length of the path, the distance through which it moves; then the resulting product is equal to,—i.e. the same product can also be expressed by multiplying the mass by the square of the eventual velocity and dividing by 2. That is to say:

Look at the right-hand side of this formula. You see in it the mass. You see from the equation: the bigger the mass, the bigger the force must be. What interests us at the moment is however this:—On the right-hand side of the equation we have mass, i.e. the very thing we can never reach phoronomically. The point is: Are we simply to confess that whatever goes beyond the phoronomical domain must always be beyond our reach, so that we can only get to know it, as it were, by staring at it,—by mere outer observation? Or is there after all perhaps a bridge—the bridge which modern Physics cannot find—between the phoronomical and the mechanical?

Physics today cannot find the transition, and the consequences of this failure are immense. It cannot find it because it has no real human science,—no real physiology. It does not know the human being. You see, when I write \(v^2\), therein I have something altogether contained within what is calculable and what is spatial movement. To that extent, the formula is phoronomical. When I write \(m\) on the other hand, I must first ask: Is there anything in me myself to correspond also to this,—just as my idea of the spatial and calculable corresponds to the \(v\)? What corresponds then to the \(m\)? What am I doing when I write the \(m\)? The physicists are generally quite unconscious of what they do when they write m. This then is what the question amounts to: Can I get a clear intelligible notion of what the \(m\) contains, as by arithmetic, geometry and kinematics I get a clear intelligible notion of what the \(v\) contains? The answer is, you can indeed, but your first step must be to make yourself more consciously aware of this:—Press with your finger against something: you thus acquaint yourself with the simplest form of pressure. Mass, after all, reveals itself through pressure. As I said just now, you realize the mass by weighing it. Mass makes its presence known, to begin with, simply by this: by its ability to exert pressure. You make acquaintance with pressure by pressing upon something with your finger. Now we must ask ourselves: Is there something going on in us when we exert pressure with our finger,—when we, therefore, ourselves experience a pressure—analogous to what goes on in us when we get the clear intelligible notion, say, of a moving body? There is indeed, and to realize what it is, try making the pressure ever more intense. Try it,—or rather, don't! Try to exert pressure on some part of your body and then go on making it ever more intense. What will happen? If you go on long enough you will lose consciousness. You may conclude that the same phenomenon—loss of consciousness—is taking place, so to speak, on a small scale when you exert a pressure that is still bearable. Only in that case you lose, a little of the force of consciousness that you can bear it. Nevertheless, what I have indicated—the loss of consciousness which you experience with a pressure stronger than you can endure—is taking place partially and on a small scale whenever you come into any kind of contact with an effect of pressure—with an effect, therefore, which ultimately issues from some mass.

Follow the thought a little farther and you will no longer be so remote from understanding what is implied when we write down the \(m\). All that is phoronomical unites, as it were, quite neutrally with our consciousness. This is no longer so when we encounter what we have designated \(m\). Our consciousness is dimmed at once. If this only happens to a slight extent we can still bear it; if to a great extent, we can bear it no longer. What underlies it is the same in either case. Writing down \(m\), we are writing down that in Nature which, if it does unite with our consciousness, eliminates it,—that is to say, puts us partially to sleep. You see then, why it cannot be followed phoronomically. All that is phoronomical rests in our consciousness quite neutrally. The moment we go beyond this, we come into regions which are opposed to our consciousness and tend to blot it out. Thus when we write down the formula

we must admit: Our human experience contains the \(m\) no less than the \(v\), only our normal consciousness is not sufficient here,—does not enable us to seize the \(m\). The \(m\) at once exhausts, sucks out, withdraws from us the force of consciousness. Here then you have the real relationship to man. To understand what is in Nature, you must bring in the states of consciousness. Without recourse to these, you will never get beyond what is phoronomical,—you will not even reach the mechanical domain.

Nevertheless, although we cannot live with consciousness in all that, for instance, which is implied in the letter \(m\), yet with our full human being we do live in it after all. We live in it above all with our Will. And as to how we live in Nature with our Will,—I will now try to illustrate it with an example. Once more I take my start from some-thing you will probably recall from your school-days; I have no doubt you learned it.

Here is a balance (Figure IIa). I can balance the weight that is on the one side with an object of equal weight, suspended this time, at the other end of the beam. We can thus weigh the object; we ascertain its weight. We now put a vessel there, filled up to here with water, so that the object is submerged in water. Immediately, the beam of the balance goes up on that side. By immersion in water the object has become lighter,—it loses some of its weight. We can test how much lighter it has grown,—how much must be subtracted to restore the balance. We find the object has become lighter to the extent of the weight of water it displaces. If we weigh the same volume of water we get the loss of weight exactly. You know this is called the law of buoyancy and is thus formulated:—Immersed in a liquid, every body becomes as much lighter as is represented by the weight of liquid it displaces. You see therefore that when a body is in a liquid it strives upward,—in some sense it withdraws itself from the downward pressure of weight.

What we can thus observe as an objective phenomenon in Physics, is of great importance in man's own constitution. Our brain, you see, weighs on the average about 1250 grammes. If, when we bear the brain within us, it really weighed as much as this, it would press so heavily upon the arteries that are beneath it that it would not get properly supplied with blood. The heavy pressure would immediately cloud our consciousness. Truth is, the brain by no means weighs with the full 1250 grammes upon the base of the skull. The weight it weighs with is only about 20 grammes. For the brain swims in the cerebral fluid. Just as the outer object in our experiment swims in the water, so does the brain swim in the cerebral fluid; moreover the weight of this fluid which the brain displaces is about 1230 grammes. To that extent the brain is lightened, leaving only about 20 grammes. What does this signify? While, with some justice we may regard the brain as the instrument of our Intelligence and life of soul—at least, a portion of our life of soul—we must not reckon merely with the ponderable brain. This is not there alone; there is also the buoyancy, by virtue of which the brain is really tending upward, contrary to its own weight. This then is what it signifies. With our Intelligence we live not in forces that pull downward but on the contrary, in forces that pull upward. With our Intelligence, we live in a force of buoyancy.

What I have been explaining applies however only to our brain. The remaining portions of our body—from the base of the skull downward, with the exception of the spinal cord—are only to a very slight extent in this condition. Taken as a whole, their tendency is down-ward. Here then we live in the downward pull. In our brain we live in the upward buoyancy, while for the rest we live in the downward pull. Our Will, above all, lives in the downward pull. Our Will has to unite with the downward pressure. Precisely this deprives the rest of our body of consciousness and makes it all the time asleep. This indeed is the essential feature of the phenomenon of Will. As a conscious phenomenon it is blotted out, extinguished, because in fact the Will unites with the downward force of gravity or weight. Our Intelligence on the other hand becomes light and clear inasmuch as we are able to unite with the force of buoyancy,—inasmuch as our brain counteracts the force of gravity. You see then how the diverse ways in which the life of man unites with the material element that underlies it, bring about upon the one hand the submersion of the Will in matter and on the other hand the lightening of Will into Intelligence. Never could Intelligence arise if our soul's life were only bound to downward tending matter. And now please think of this:—We have to consider man, not in the abstract manner of today, but so as to bring the spiritual and the physical together. Only the spiritual must now be conceived in so strong and robust a way as to embrace also the knowledge of the physical. In the human being we then see upon the one hand the lightening into Intelligence, brought about by one kind of connection with the material life—connection namely with the buoyancy which is at work there. Whilst on the other hand, where he has to let his Will be absorbed, sucked-up as it were, by the downward pressure, we see men being put to sleep. For the Will works in the sense of this downward pressure. Only a tiny portion of it, amounting to the 20 grammes' pressure of which we spoke, manages to filter through to the Intelligence. Hence our intelligence is to some extent permeated by Will. In the main however, what is at work in the Intelligence is the very opposite of ponderable matter. We always tend to go up and out beyond our head when we are thinking.

Physical science must be co-ordinated with what lives in man himself. If we stay only in the phoronomical domain, we are amid the beloved abstractions of our time and can build no bridge from thence to the outer reality of Nature. We need a knowledge with a strongly spiritual content,—strong enough to dive down into the phenomena of Nature and to take hold of such things as physical weight and buoyancy for instance, and how they work in man. Man in his inner life, as I was shewing, comes to terms both with the downward pressure and with the upward buoyancy; he therefore lives right into the connection that is really there between the phoronomical and the material domains.

You will admit, we need some deepening of Science to take hold of these things. We cannot do it in the old way. The old way of Science is to invent wave-movements or corpuscular emissions, all in the abstract. By speculation it seeks to find its way across into the realm of matter, and naturally fails to do so. A Science that is spiritual will find the way across by really diving into the realm of matter, which is what we do when we follow the life of soul in Will and Intelligence down into such phenomena as pressure and buoyancy. Here is true Monism: only a spiritual Science can produce it. This is not the Monism of mere words, pursued today with lack of real insight. It is indeed high time, if I may say so, for Physics to get a little grit into its thinking.—so to connect outer phenomena like the one we have been demonstrating with the corresponding physiological phenomena—in this instance, the swimming of the brain. Catch the connection and you know at once: so it must be,—the principle of Archimedes cannot fail to apply to the swimming of the brain in the cerebro-spinal fluid.

Now to proceed: what happens through the facts that with our brain—but for the 20 grammes into which enters the unconscious Will—we live in the sphere of Intelligence? What happens is that inasmuch as we here make the brain our instrument, for our Intelligence we are unburdened of downward-pulling matter. The latter is well-nigh eliminated, to the extent that 1230 grammes' weight is lost. Even to this extent is heavy matter eliminated, and for our brain we are thereby enabled, to a very high degree, to bring our etheric body into play. Unembarrassed by the weight of matter, the etheric body can here do what it wants. In the rest of our body on the other hand, the ether is overwhelmed by the weight of matter. See then this memberment of man. In the part of him which serves Intelligence, you get the ether free, as it were, while for the rest of him you get it bound to the physical matter. Thus in our brain the etheric organisms in some sense overwhelms the physical, while for the rest of our body the forces and functionings of the physical organisation overwhelm those of the etheric.

I drew your attention to the relation you enter into with the outer world whenever you expose yourself to pressure. There is the “putting to sleep”, of which we spoke just now. But there are other relations too, and about one of these—leaping a little ahead—I wish to speak today. I mean the relation to the outer world which comes about when we open our eyes and are in a light-filled space. Manifestly we then come into quite another relation to the outer world than where we impinge on matter and make acquaintance with pressure. When we expose ourselves to light, insofar as the light works purely and simply as light, not only do we lose nothing of our consciousness but on the contrary. No one, willing to go into it at all, can fail to perceive that by exposing himself to the light his consciousness actually becomes more awake—awake to take part in the outer world. Our forces of consciousness in some way unite with what comes to meet us in the light; we shall discuss this in greater detail in due time. Now in and with the light the colours also come to meet us. In fact we cannot say that we see the light as such. With the help of the light we see the colours, but it would not be true to say we see the light itself,—though we shall yet have to speak of how and why it is that we see the so-called white light.

Now the fact is that all that meets us by way of colour really confronts us in two opposite and polar qualities, no less than magnetism does, to take another example—positive magnetism, negative magnetism;—there is no less of a polar quality in the realm of colour. At the one pole is all that which we describe as yellow and the kindred colours—orange and reddish. At the other pole is what we may describe as blue and kindred colours—indigo and violet and even certain lesser shades of green. Why do I emphasise that the world of colour meets us with a polar quality? Because in fact the polarity of colour is among the most significant phenomena of all Nature and should be studied accordingly. To go ahead at once to what Goethe calls the Ur-phenomenon in the sense I was explaining yesterday, this is indeed the Ur-phenomenon of colour. We shall reach it to begin with by looking for colour in and about the light as such. This is to be our first experiment, arranged as well as we are able. I will explain first what it is. The experiment will be as follows:—

Through a narrow slit—or a small circular opening, we may assume to begin with—in an otherwise opaque wall, we let in light (Figure IIb). We let the light pour in through the slit. Opposite the wall through which the light is pouring in, we put a screen. By virtue of the light that is pouring in, we see an illuminated circular surface on the screen. The experiment is best done by cutting a hole in the shutters, letting the sunlight pour in from outside. We can then put up a screen and catch the resulting picture. We cannot do it in this way; so we are using the lantern to project it. When I remove the shutter, you see a luminous circle on the wall. This, to begin with, is the picture which arises, in that a cylinder of light, passing along here, is caught on the opposite wall. We now put a “prism” into the path of this cylinder of light (Figure IIc).

The light can then no longer simply penetrate to the opposite wall and there produce a luminous circle; it is compelled to deviate from its path. How have we brought this about? The prism is made of two planes of glass, set at an angle to form a wedge. This hollow prism is then filled with water. We let the cylinder of light, produced by the projecting apparatus, pass through the water-prism. If you now look at the wall, you see that the patch of light is no longer down there, where it was before. It is displaced,—it appears elsewhere. Moreover you see a peculiar phenomenon:—at the upper edge of it you see a bluish-greenish light. You see the patch with a bluish edge therefore. Below, you see the edge is reddish-yellow.

This then is what we have to begin with,—this is the “phenomenon”. Let us first hold to the phenomenon, simply describing the fact as it confronts us. In going through the prism, the light is somehow deflected from its path. It now forms a circle away up there, but if we measured it we should find it is not an exact circle. It is drawn out a little above and below, and edged with blue above and yellowish below. If therefore we cause such a cylinder of light to pass through the prismatically formed body of water,—neglecting, as we can in this case, whatever modifications may be due to the plates of glass—phenomena of colour arise at the edges.

Now I will do the experiment again with a far narrower cylinder of light. You see a far smaller patch of light on the screen. Deflecting it again with the help of the prism, once more you see the patch of light displaced,—moved upward. This time however the circle of light is completely filled with colours, The displaced patch of light now appears violet, blue, green, yellow and red, Indeed, if we made a more thorough study of it, we should find in it all the colours of the rainbow in their proper order. We take the fact, purely and simply as we find it; and please—all those of you who learned at school the neatly finished diagrams with rays of light, normals and so on,—please to forget them now. Hold to the simple phenomenon, the pure and simple fact. We see colours arising in and about the light and we can ask ourselves, what is it due to? Look please once more; I will again insert the larger aperture. There is again the cylinder of light passing through space, impinging on the screen and there forming its picture of light (Figure IIb). Again we put the prism in the way. Again the picture of light is displaced and the phenomena of colour appear at the edges (Figure IIc).

Now please observe the following. We will remain purely within the given facts. Kindly observe. If you could look at it more exactly you would see the luminous cylinder of water where the light is going through the prism. This is a matter of simple fact: the cylinder of light goes through the prism of water and there is thus an interpenetration of the light with the water. Pay careful attention please, once more. In that the cylinder of light goes through the water, the light and the water interpenetrate, and this is evidently not without effect for the environment. On the contrary, we must aver (and once again, we add nothing to the facts in saying this):—the cylinder of light somehow has power to make its way through the water-prism to the other side, yet in the process it is deflected by the prism. Were it not for the prism, it would go straight on, but it is now thrown upward and deflected. Here then is something that deflects our cylinder of light. To denote this that is deflecting our cylinder of light by an arrow in the diagram, I shall have to put the arrow thus. So we can say, adhering once again to the facts and not indulging in speculations: By such a prism the cylinder of light is deflected upward, and we can indicate the direction in which it is deflected.

And now, to add to all this, think of the following, which once again is a simple statement of fact. If you let light go through a dim and milky glass or through any cloudy fluid—through dim, cloudy, turbid matter in effect,—the light is weakened, naturally. When you see the light through clear unclouded water, you see it in full brightness; if the water is cloudy, you see it weakened. By dim and cloudy media the light is weakened; you will see this in countless instances. We have to state this, to begin with, simply as a fact. Now in some respect, however little, every material medium is dim. So is this prism here. It always dims the light to some extent. That is to say, with respect to the light that is there within the prism, we are dealing with a light that is somehow dimmed. Here to begin with (pointing to Figure IIc) we have the light as it shines forth; here on the other hand we have the light that has made its way through the material medium. In here however, inside the prism, we have a working-together of matter and light; a dimming of the light arises here. That the dimming of the light has a real effect, you can tell from the simple fact that when you look into light through a dim or cloudy medium you see something more. The dimming has an effect,—this is perceptible. What is it that comes about by the dimming of the light? We have to do not only with the cone of light that is here bent and deflected, but also with this new factor—the dimming of the light, brought about by matter. We can imagine therefore into this space beyond the prism not only the light is shining, but there shines in, there rays into the light the quality of dimness that is in the prism. How then does it ray in? Naturally it spreads out and extends after the light has gone through the prism. What has been dimmed and darkened, rays into what is light and bright. You need only think of it properly and you will admit: the dimness too is shining up into this region. If what is light is deflected upward, then what is dim is deflected upward too. That is to say, the dimming is deflected upward in the same direction as the light is. The light that is deflected upward has a dimming effect, so to speak, sent after it. Up there, the light cannot spread out unimpaired, but into it the darkening, the dimming effect is sent after. Here then we are dealing with the interaction of two things: the brightly shining light, itself deflected, and then the sending into it of the darkening effect that is poured into this shining light. Only the dimming and darkening effect is here deflected in the same direction as the light is. And now you see the outcome. Here in this upward region the bright light is infused and irradiated with dimness, and by this means the dark or bluish colours are produced.

How is it then when you look further down? The dimming and darkening shines downward too, naturally. But you see how it is. Whilst here there is a part of the outraying light where the dimming effect takes the same direction as the light that surges through—so to speak—with its prime force and momentum, here on the other hand the dimming effect that has arisen spreads and shines further, so that there is a space for which the cylinder of light as a whole is still diverted upward, yet at the same time, into the body of light which is thus diverted upward, the dimming and darkening effect rays in. Here is a region where, through the upper parts of the prism, the dimming and darkening goes downward. Here therefore we have a region where the darkening is deflected in the opposite sense,—opposite to the deflection of the light. Up there, the dimming or darkening tends to go into the light; down here, the working of the light is such that the deflection of it works in an opposite direction to the deflection of the dimming, darkening effect. This, then, is the result:—Above, the dimming effect is deflected in the same sense as the light; thus in a way they work together. The dimming and darkening gets into the light like a parasite and mingles with it. Down here on the contrary, the dimming rays back into the light but is overwhelmed and as it were suppressed by the latter. Here therefore, even in the battle between bright and dim—between the lightening and darkening—the light predominates. The consequences of this battle—the consequences of the mutual opposition of the light and dark, and of the dark being irradiated by the light, are in this downward region the red or yellow colours. So therefore we may say: Upward, the darkening runs into the light and there arise the blue shades of colour; downward, the light outdoes and overwhelms the darkness and there arise the yellow shades of colour.

You see, dear Friends: simply through the fact that the prism on the one hand deflects the full bright cone of light and on the other hand also deflects the dimming of it, we have the two kinds of entry of the dimming or darkening into the light,—the two kinds of interplay between them. We have an interplay of dark and light, not getting mixed to give a grey but remaining mutually independent in their activity. Only at the one pole they remain active in such a way that the darkness comes to expression as darkness even within the light, whilst at the other pole the darkening stems itself against the light, it remains there and independent, it is true, but the light overwhelms and outdoes it. So there arise the lighter shades,—all that is yellowish in colour. Thus by adhering to the plain facts and simply taking what is given, purely from what you see you have the possibility of understanding why yellowish colours on the one hand and bluish colours on the other make their appearance. At the same time you see that the material prism plays an essential part in the arising of the colours. For it is through the prism that it happens, namely that on the one hand the dimming is deflected in the same direction as the cone of light, while on the other hand, because the prism lets its darkness ray there too, this that rays on and the light that is deflected cut across each other. For that is how the deflection works down here. Downward, the darkness and the light are interacting in a different way than upward.

Colours therefore arise where dark and light work together. This is what I desired to make clear to you today. Now if you want to consider for yourselves, how you will best understand it, you need only think for instance of how differently your own etheric body is inserted into your muscles and into your eyes. Into a muscle it is so inserted as to blend with the functions of the muscle; not so into the eye. The eye being very isolated, here the etheric body is not inserted into the physical apparatus in the same way, but remains comparatively independent. Consequently, the astral body can come into very intimate union with the portion of the etheric body that is in the eye. Inside the eye our astral body is more independent, and independent in a different way than in the rest of our physical organization. Let this be the part of the physical organization in a muscle, and this the physical organization of the eye. To describe it we must say: our astral body is inserted into both, but in a very different way. Into the muscle it is so inserted that it goes through the same space as the physical bodily part and is by no means independent. In the eye too it is inserted: here however it works independently. The space is filled by both, in both cases, but in the one case the ingredients work independently while in the other they do not. It is but half the truth to say that our astral body is there in our physical body. We must ask how it is in it, for it is in it differently in the eye and in the muscle. In the eye it is relatively independent, and yet it is in it,—no less than in the muscle. You see from this: ingredients can interpenetrate each other and still be independent. So too, you can unite light and dark to get grey; then they are interpenetrating like astral body and muscle. Or on the other hand light and dark can so interpenetrate as to retain their several independence; then they are interpenetrating as do the astral body and the physical organization in the eye. In the one instance, grey arises; in the other, colour. When they interpenetrate like the astral body and the muscle, grey arises; whilst when they interpenetrate like the astral body and the eye, colour arises, since they remain relatively independent in spite of being there in the same space.

My dear Friends,

I am told that the phenomenon with the prism—at the end of yesterday's lecture—has after all proved difficult for some of you to understand. Do not be troubled if this is so; you will understand it better by and by. We shall have to go into the phenomena of light and colour rather more fully. They are the real piece de resistance, even in relation to the rest of Physics, and will therefore provide a good foundation.

You will realize that the main idea of the present course is for me to tell you some of the things which you will not find in the text-books, things not included in the normal lines of the scientific study and only able to be dealt with in the way we do here. In the concluding lectures we shall consider how these reflections can also be made use of in school teaching.

What I was trying to explain is in its essence a special kind of interplay of light and dark—i.e. the unimpaired brightness and on the other hand the dimming or clouding of the light. I was trying to show how through the diverse ways in which light and dark work together—induced especially by the passage of a cylinder of light through a prism—the phenomena of colour, in all their polar relation to one-another, are brought about.

Now in the first place I really must ask you to swallow the bitter pill (I mean, those of you who found things difficult to understand). Your difficulty lies in the fact that you are always hankering after a phoronomical treatment of light and colour. The strange education we are made to undergo instils this mental habit. Thinking of outer Nature, people will restrict themselves to thoughts of a more or less phoronomical character. They will restrict their thoughts to what is arithmetical, spatially formal, and kinematical. Called on to try and think in terms of qualities as you are here, you may well be saying to yourselves: Here we get stuck! You must attribute it to the unnatural direction pursued by Science in modern time. Moreover—I speak especially to Waldorf-School and other teachers—you will yourselves to some extent still have to take the same direction with your pupils. It will not be possible, all at once, to bring the really healthy ideas into a modern school. We must find ways of transition.

For the phenomena of light and colour, let us now begin again, but from the other end. I take my start from a much disputed saying of Goethe's. In the 1780's a number of statements as to the way colours arise in and about the light came to his notice. Among other things, he learned of the prismatic phenomena we were beginning to study yesterday. It was commonly held by physicists, so Goethe learned, that when you let colourless light go through a prism the colourless light is analyzed and split up. For in some such way the phenomena were interpreted. If we let a cylinder of colourless light impinge on the screen, it shows a colourless picture. Putting a prism in the way of the cylinder of light, the physicists went on to say, we get the sequence of colours: red, orange, yellow, green, blue—light blue and dark blue,—violet. Goethe heard of it in this way: the physicists explain it thus, so he was told—The colourless light already contains the seven colours within itself—a rather difficult thing to imagine, no doubt, but that is what they said. And when we make the light go through the prism, the prism really does no more than to fan out and separate what is already there in the light,—the seven colours, into which it is thus analyzed.

Goethe wanted to get to the bottom of it. He began borrowing and collecting instruments,—much as we have been doing in the last few days. He wanted to find out for himself. Buettner, Privy Councillor in Jena, was kind enough to send him some scientific instruments to Weimar. Goethe stacked them away, hoping for a convenient time to begin his investigations. Presently, Councillor Buettner grew impatient and wanted his instruments back. Goethe had not yet begun;—it often happens, one does not get down to a thing right away. Now Goethe had to pack the instruments to send them back again. Meanwhile he took a quick look through the prism, saying to himself as he did so: If then the light is analyzed by the prism, I shall see it so on yonder wall. He really expected to see the light in seven colours. But the only place where he could see any colour at all was at some edge or border-line—a stain on the wall for instance, where the stain, the dark and clouded part, met the lighter surface. Looking at such a place through the prism he saw colours; where there was uniform white he saw nothing of the kind. Goethe was roused. He felt the theory did not make sense. He was no longer minded to send the instruments back, but kept them and went on with his researches. It soon emerged that the phenomenon was not at all as commonly described.

If we let light pass through the space of the room, we get a white circle on the screen. Here we have cut it out very neatly; you see a pretty fair circle. Put a prism in the way of the body of light that is going through there,—the cylinder of light is diverted, (Figure IIc), but what appears in the first place is not the series of seven colours at all, only a reddish colour at the lower edge, passing over into yellow, and at the upper edge a blue passing over into greenish shades. In the middle it stays white.

Goethe now said to himself: It is not that the light is split up or that anything is separated out of the light as such. In point of fact, I am projecting a picture,—simply an image of this circular aperture. The aperture has edges, and where the colours occur the reason is not that they are drawn out of the light, as though the light had been split up into them. It is because this picture which I am projecting—the picture as such—has edges. Here too the fact is that where light adjoins dark, colours appear at the edges. It is none other than that. For there is darkness outside this circular patch of light, while it is relatively light within it.

The colours therefore, to begin with, make their appearance purely and simply as phenomena at the border between light and dark. This is the original, the primary phenomenon. We are no longer seeing the original phenomenon when by reducing the circle in size we get a continuous sequence of colours. The latter phenomenon only arises when we take so small a circle that the colours extend inward from the edges to the middle. They then overlap in the middle and form what we call a continuous spectrum, while with the larger circle the colours formed at the edges stay as they are. This is the primal phenomenon. Colours arise at the borders, where light and dark flow together.

This, my dear Friends, is precisely the point: not to bring in theories to tamper with the facts, but to confine ourselves to a clean straightforward study of the given facts. However, as you have seen, in these phenomena not only colours arise; there is also the lateral displacement of the entire cone of light. To study this displacement further—diagrammatically to begin with—we can also proceed as follows.

Suppose you put two prisms together so as to make them into a single whole. The lower one is placed like the one I drew yesterday, the upper one the opposite way up (Figure IIIa). If I now made a cylinder of light pass through this double prism, I should of course get something very like what we had yesterday. The light would be diverted—upward in the one case, downward in the other. Hence if I had such a double prism I should get a figure of light still more drawn out than before. But it would prove to be rather indistinct and dark. I should explain this as follows. Catching the picture by a screen placed here, I should get an image of the circle of light as if there were two pushed together, one from either end. But I could now move the screen farther in. Again I should get an image. That is to say, there would be a space—all this is remaining purely within the given facts—a space within which I should always find it possible to get an image. You see then how the double prism treats the light. Moreover I shall always find a red edge outside,—in this case, above and below—and a violet colour in the middle. Where I should otherwise merely get the image extending from red to violet, I now get the outer edges red, with violet in the middle and the other colours in between. By means of such a double prism I should make it possible for such a figure to arise,—and I should get a similar figure if I moved the screen farther away. Within a certain distance either way, such a picture will be able to arise—coloured at the edges, coloured in the middle too, and with transitional colours.

Now we might arrange it so that when moving the screen to and fro there would be a very wide space within which such pictures could be formed. But as you probably divine, the only way of doing this would be to keep on changing the shape of the prism. If for example, taking a prism with a larger angle, I got the picture at a given place, if I then made the angle smaller I should get it elsewhere. Now I can do the whole thing differently by using a prism with curved instead of plane surfaces from the very outset. The phenomenon, difficult to study with the prism, will be much simplified. We therefore have this possibility. We let the cylinder of light go through the space and then put in its way a lens,—which in effect is none other than a double prism with its faces curved. The picture I now get is, to begin with, considerably reduced in size. What then has taken place? The whole cylinder of light has been contracted. Look first at the original cross-section: by interposing the lens I get it narrowed and drawn together. Here then we have a fresh interaction between what is material—the material of the lens, which is a body of glass—and the light that goes through space. The lens so works upon the light as to contract it.

To draw it diagrammatically (Figure IIIa, above), here is a cylinder of light. I let the light go through the lens. If I confronted the light with an ordinary plate of glass or water, the cylinder of light would just go through and a simple picture of it on the screen would be the outcome. Not so if instead of the simple plate, made of glass or water, I have a lens. Following what has actually happened with my drawing, I must say: the picture has grown smaller. The cylinder of light is contracted.

Now there is also another possibility. We could set up a double prism, not as in the former instance but in cross-section as I am now drawing it (Figure IIIb),—the prisms meeting at the angle. I should again get the phenomenon described before, only in this instance the circle would be considerably enlarged. Once again, while moving the screen to and fro within a certain range, I should still get the picture—more or less indistinct. Moreover in this case (Figure IIIb, above and on the right) I should get violet and bluish colours both at the upper and at the lower edge, and red in the middle,—the opposite of what it was before. There would again be the intermediate colours.

Once more I can replace the double prism by a lens,—a lens of this cross-section (Figure IIIb). The other was thick in the middle and thin at the edges; this one is thin in the middle and thick at the edge. Using this lens, I get a picture considerably bigger than the cross-section of the cylinder of light would be without it. I get an enlarged picture, again with colours graded from the edge towards the centre. Following the phenomena in this case I must say: the cylinder of light has been widened,—very considerably thrust apart. Again: the simple fact.

What do we see from these phenomena? Evidently there is an active relation between the material—though it appears transparent in all these lenses and prisms—and what comes to manifestation through the light. We see a kind of interaction between them. Taking our start from what we should get with a lens of this type (thick at the edge and thin in the middle), the entire cylinder of light will have been thrust apart,—will have been widened. We see too how this widening can have come about,—obviously through the fact that the material through which the light has gone is thinner here and thicker here. Here at the edge, the light has to make its way through more matter than in the middle, where it has less matter to go through. And now, what happens to the light? As we said, it is widened out—thrust apart—in the direction of these two arrows. How can it have been thrust apart? It can only be through the fact that it has less matter to go through in the middle and more at the edges. Think of it now. In the middle the light has less matter to go through; it therefore passes through more easily and retains more of its force after having gone through. Here therefore—where it goes through less matter—the force of it is greater than where it goes through more. It is the stronger force in the middle, due to the light's having less matter to go through, which presses the cylinder of light apart. If I may so express myself, you can read it in the facts that this is how it is. I want you to be very clear at this point it is simply a question of true method in our thinking. In our attempts to follow up the phenomena of light by means of lines and diagrams we ought to realize that with every line we draw we ourselves are adding something which has nothing to do with the light as such. The lines I have been drawing are but the limits of the cylinder of light. The cylinder of light is brought about by the aperture. What I draw has nothing to do with the light; I am only reproducing what is brought about by the light's going through the slit. And if I say, “the light moves in this direction”, that again has nothing to do with the light as such; for if I moved the source of light upward, the light that falls on the slit would move in this way and I should have to draw the arrow in this direction. This again would not concern the light as such. People have formed such a habit of drawing lines into the light, and from this habit they have gradually come to talk of “light-rays”. In fact we never have to do with light-rays; here for example, what we have to do with is a cone of light, due to the aperture through which we caused the light to pass. In this instance the cone of light is broadened out, and it is evident: the broadening must somehow be connected with the shorter path the light has to go through in the middle of the lens than at the edge. Due to the shorter path in the middle, the light retains more force; due to the longer path at the edge, more force is taken from it. The stronger light in the middle presses upon the weaker light at the edge and so the cone of light is broadened. You simply read it in the facts.

Truth is that where we simply have to do with images or pictures, the physicists speak of all manner of other things,—light-rays and so on. The “light-rays” have become the very basis of materialistic thinking in this domain. To illustrate the point more vividly, we will consider another phenomenon. Suppose I have a vessel here (Figure IIId), filled with liquid—water, for example. On the floor of the vessel there is an object—say, a florin. Here is the eye. I can now make the following experiment. Omitting the water to begin with, I can look down at the object and see it in this direction. What is the fact? An object is lying on the bottom of the vessel (Figure IIIc). I look and see it in a certain direction. Such is the simple fact, but if I now begin explaining: there is a ray of light proceeding from the object to the eye, affecting the eye, and so on,—then, my dear Friends, I am already fancying all kinds of things that are not given.

Now let me fill the vessel with water or some other liquid up to here. A strange thing happens. I draw a line from the eye towards the object in the direction in which I saw it before. Looking in this direction, I might expect to see the same as before, but I do not. A peculiar thing happens. I see the object lifted to some extent. I see it, and with it the whole floor of the vessel lifted upward. We may go into it another time, as to how this effect can be determined, by which I mean measured. I now only refer to the main principle. To what can this effect be due? How shall I answer this question, purely from the facts? Having previously seen the thing in this direction, I expect to find it there again. Yet when I look, I do not see it there but in this other direction. When there was no water in the vessel I could look straight to the bottom, between which and my eye there was only air. Now my sighting line impinges on the water. The water does not let my force of sight go through as easily as the air does; it offers stronger resistance, to which must give way. From the surface of the water onward I must give way to the stronger resistance, and, that I have to do so, comes to expression in that I do not see right down as before but it all looks lifted upward. It is as though it were more difficult for me to see through the water than through the air; the resistance of the water is harder for me to overcome. Hence I must shorten the force and so I myself draw the object upward. In meeting the stronger resistance I draw in the force and shorten it. If I could fill the vessel with a gas thinner than air (Figure IIIe), the object would be correspondingly lowered, since I should then encounter less resistance,—so I should push it downward. Instead of simply noting this fact, the physicists will say: There is a ray of light, sent from the object to the surface of the water. The ray is there refracted. Owing to the transition from a denser medium to a more tenuous, the ray is refracted away from the normal at the point of incidence; so then it reaches the eye in this direction. And now the physicists go on to say a very curious thing. The eye, they say, having received information by this ray of light, produces it on and outward in the same straight line and so projects the object thither. What is the meaning of this? In the conventional Physics they will invent all manner of concepts but fail to reckon with what is evidently there,—with the resistance which the sighting force of the eye encounters in the denser medium it has to penetrate. They want to leave all this out and to ascribe everything to the light alone, just as they say of the prism experiment: Oh, it is not the prism at all; the seven colours are there in the light all the time. The prism only provides the occasion for them to line up like so many soldiers. The seven naughty boys were there in the light already; now they are only made to line up and stand apart. The prism isn't responsible. Yet as we say, the colours are really caused by what arises in the prism. This wedge of dimness is the cause. The colours are not due to the light as such.

Here now you see it again. We must be clear that we ourselves are being active. We, actively, are looking with our eye,—with our line of sight. Finding increased resistance in the water, we are obliged to shorten the line of sight. What say the physicists on the other hand? They speak of rays of light being sent out and refracted and so on. And now the beauty of it, my dear Friends! The light, they say, reaches the eye by a bent and broken path, and then the eye projects the picture outward. So after all they end by attributing this activity to the eye: “The eye projects ...” Only they then present us with a merely phoronomical conception, remote from the given realities. They put a merely fancied activity in place of what is evidently given: the resistance of the denser water to the sighting force of the eye. It is at such points that you see most distinctly how abstract everything is made in our conventional Physics. All things are turned into mere phoronomic systems; what they will not do is to go into the qualities. Thus in the first place they divest the eye of any kind of activity of its own; only from outer objects rays of light are supposed to proceed and thence to reach the eye. Yet in the last resort the eye is said to project outward into space the stimulus which it receives. Surely we ought to begin with the activity of the eye from the very outset. We must be clear that the eye is an active organism.

We will today begin our study of the nature of the human eye. Here is a model of it (Figure IIIf). The human eye, as you know, is in form like a kind of sphere, slightly compressed from front to back. Such is the eye-ball, seated in the bony cavity or orbit, and with a number of skins enveloping the inner portion. To draw it in cross-section (Figure IIIf). it will be like this. (When looking at your neighbour's eye you look into the pupil. I am now drawing it from the side and in cross-section.) This then would be a right-hand eye. If we removed the eye from the skull, making an anatomical preparation, the first thing we should encounter would be connective tissue and fatty tissue. Then we should reach the first integument of the eye properly speaking—the so-called sclerotic and the transparent portion of it, the cornea. This outermost integument (I have here drawn it) is sinewy,—of bony or cartilaginous consistency. Towards the front it gets transparent, so that the light can penetrate into the eye. A second layer enveloping the inner space of the eye is then the so-called choroid, containing blood-vessels. Thirdly we get the inner-most layer, the retina so-called, which is continued into the optic nerve as you go farther in into the skull. Herewith we have enumerated the three integuments of the eye, And now behind the cornea, shown here,—embedded in the ciliary muscle—is a kind of lens. The lens is carried by a muscle known as the ciliary muscle. In front is the transparent cornea, between which and the lens is the so-called aqueous humour. Thus when the light gets into the eye it first passes through the transparent cornea, then through the aqueous humour and then through this lens which is inherently movable by means of muscles. From the lens onward the light then reaches what is commonly known as the vitreous body or vitreous humour, filling the entire space of the eye. The light therefore goes through the transparent cornea, through the aqueous humour, the lens itself and the vitreous humour and from thence reaches the retina, which is in fact a ramification of the optic nerve that then goes on into the brain, This, therefore, (Figure IIIf),—envisaging only what is most important to begin with—would be a diagrammatic picture of the essential parts of the eye, embedded as it is in its cavity within the bony skull.

Now the eye reveals very remarkable features. Examining the contents of this fluid that is between the lens and the cornea through which the light first has to pass, we find it very like any ordinary liquid taken from the outer world. At this place in the human body therefore—in the liquid or aqueous humour of the eye, between the lens and the outer cornea,—a man in his bodily nature is quite of a piece with the outer world. The lens too is to a high degree “objective” and unalive. Not so when we go on to the vitreous body, filling the interior of the eye and bordering on the retina. Of this we can no longer say that it is like any external body or external fluid. In the vitreous humour there is decided vitality,—there is life. Truth is, the farther back we go into the eye, the more life do we find. In the aqueous humour we have a quite external and objective kind of fluid. The lens too is still external. Inside the vitreous body on the other hand we find inherent vitality. This difference, between what is contained in this more outward portion of the eye and what is there in the more contained parts, also reveals itself in another circumstance. Tracing the comparative development of the eye from the lower animals upward, we find that the external fluid or aqueous humour and the lens grow not from within outward but by the forming of new cells from the surrounding and more peripheral cells. I must conceive the forming of the lens rather in this way. The tissue of the lens, also the aqueous humour in the anterior part of the eye, are formed from neighbouring organs, not from within outward; whilst from within the vitreous body grows out to meet them. This is the noteworthy thing. In fact the nature of the outer light is here at work, bringing about that transformation whereby the aqueous humour and the lens originate. To this the living being then reacts from within, thrusting outward a more living, a more vital organ, namely the vitreous body. Notably in the eye, formations whose development is stimulated from without, and others stimulated from within, meet one-another in a very striking way.

This is the first peculiarity of the eye, and there is also another, scarcely less remarkable. The expanse of the retina which you see here is really the expanded optic nerve. Now the peculiar thing is that at the very point of entry of the optic nerve the eye is insensitive; there it is blind. Tomorrow I shall try to show you an experiment confirming this. The optic nerve thence spreads out, and in an area which for the right-hand eye is a little to the right of the point of entry the retina is most sensitive of all. We may begin by saying that it is surely the nerve which senses the light. Yet it is insensitive to light precisely at its point of entry. If it is really the nerve that senses the light we should expect it to do so more intensely at the point of entry, but it does not. Please try to bear this in mind.

That this whole structure and arrangement of the eye is full of wisdom—wisdom, if I may so put it, from the side of Nature—this you may also tell from the following fact. During the day when you look at the objects around you—in so far as you have healthy eyes—they will appear to you more or less sharp and clear, or at least so that their sharpness of outline is fully adequate for orientation. But in the morning when you first awaken you sometimes see the outlines of surrounding objects very indistinctly, as if enveloped with a little halo. The rim of a circle for example will be indistinct and nebular when you have just awakened in the morning. What is it due to? It is due to there being two different kinds of things in our eye, namely the vitreous body and the lens. In origin, as we have seen, they are quite different. The lens is formed more from without, the vitreous body more from within. While the lens is rather unalive, the vitreous body is full of vitality. Now in the moment of awakening they are not yet adapted to one-another. The vitreous body still tries to picture the objects to us in the way it can; the lens in the way it can. We have to wait till they are well adapted to each other. You see again how deeply mobile everything organic is. The whole working of it depends on this. First the activity is differentiated into that of the lens and the vitreous body respectively. From what is thus differentiated the activity is thereupon composed and integrated; so then the one has to adapt itself to the other.

From all these things we shall try gradually to discover how the many-coloured world emerges for us from the relation of the eye to the outer world. Now there is one more experiment I wish to shew today, and from it we may partly take our start tomorrow in studying the relation of the eye to the external world. Here is a disc, mounted on a wheel and painted with the colours which we saw before—those of the rainbow: violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange and red. First look at it and see the seven colours. We will now bring it into rotation. I can turn fairly quickly and you still see the seven colours as such—only rotating. But when I turn quickly enough you can no longer see the colours. You are no doubt seeing a uniform grey. So we must ask: Why do the seven colours appear to us in grey, all of one shade? This we will try to answer tomorrow. Today we will adduce what modern Physics has to say about it,—what is already said in Goethe's time. According to modern Physics, here are the colours of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. We bring the disc into rotation. The single impression of light has not time enough to make itself felt as such in our eye. Scarcely have I seen the red at a particular place, the quick rotation brings the orange there and then the yellow, and so on. The red itself is there again before I have time to rid myself of the impressions of the other colours. So then I get them all at once. The violet arrives before the impression of the red has vanished. For the eye, the seven colours are thus put together again, which must once more give white.

Such was the scientific doctrine even in Goethe's time, and so he was instructed. Bring a coloured top into quick enough rotation: the seven colours, which in the prism experiment very obediently lined up and stood apart, will re-unite in the eye itself. But Goethe saw no white. All that you ever get is grey, said Goethe. The modern text-books do indeed admit this; they too have ascertained that all you get is grey. However, to make it white after all, they advise you to put a black circle in the middle of the disc, so that the grey may appear white by contrast. A pretty way of doing things! Some people load the dice of “Fortune”, the physicists do so with “Nature”—so they correct her to their liking. You will discover that this is being done with quite a number of the fundamental facts.

I am trying to proceed in such a way as to create a good foundation. Once we have done this, it will enable us to go forward also in the other realms of Physics, and of Science generally.

My dear Friends,

I will begin by placing before you what we may call the “Ur-phenomenon”—primary phenomenon—of the Theory of Colour. By and by, you will find it confirmed and reinforced in the phenomena you can observe through the whole range of so-called optics or Theory of Colour. Of course the phenomena get complicated; the simple Ur-phenomenon is not always easy to recognize at once. But if you take the trouble you will find it everywhere. The simple phenomenon—expressed in Goethe's way, to begin with—is as follows: When I look through darkness at something lighter, the light object will appear modified by the darkness in the direction of the light colours, i.e. in the direction of the red and yellowish tones. If for example I look at anything luminous and, as we should call it, white—at any whitish-shining light through a thick enough plate which is in some way dim or cloudy, then what would seem to me more or less white if I were looking at directly, will appear yellowish or yellow-red (Figure IVa).

This is the one pole. Conversely, if you have here a simple black surface and look at it directly, you will see it black, but if you interpose a trough of water through which you send a stream of light so that the liquid is illumined, you will be looking at the dark through something light. Blue or violet (bluish-red) tones of colour will appear (Figure IVb). The other pole is thus revealed. This therefore is the Ur-phenomenon: Light through dark—yellow; dark through light—blue.

This simple phenomenon can be seen on every hand if we once accustom ourselves to think more realistically and not so abstractly as in modern science. Please now recall from this point of view the experiment which we have done. We sent a cylinder of light through a prism and so obtained a real scale of colours, from violet to red; we caught it on a screen. I made a drawing of the phenomenon (see Figure IIc and Figure IVc). You will remember; if this is the prism and this the cylinder of light, the light in some way goes through the prism and is diverted upward. Moreover, as we said before, it is not only diverted. It would be simply diverted if a transparent body with parallel faces were interposed. But we are putting a prism into the path of the light—that is, a body with convergent faces. In passing through the prism, the light gets darkened. The moment we send the light through the prism we therefore have to do with two things: first the simple light as it streams on, and then the dimness interposed in the path of the light. Moreover this dimness, as we said, puts itself into the path of the light in such a way that while the light is mainly diverted upward, the dimming that arises, raying upward as it does, shines also in the same direction into which the light itself is diverted. That is to say, darkness rays into the diverted light. Darkness is living, as it were, in the diverted light, and by this means the bluish and violet shades are here produced. But the darkness rays downward too, so, while the cylinder of light is diverted upward, the darkness here rays downward and works contrary to the diverted light but is no match for it. Here therefore we may say: the original bright light, diverted as it is, overwhelms and outdoes the darkness. We get the yellowish or yellow-red colours.

If we now take a sufficiently thin cylinder of light, we can also look in the direction of it through the prism. Instead of looking from outside on to a screen and seeing the picture projected there, we put our eye in the place of this picture, and, looking through the prism, we then see the aperture, through which the cylinder of light is produced, displaced (Figure IVc). Once again therefore adhering strictly to the facts, we have the following phenomenon: Looking along here, I see what would be coming directly towards me if the prism were not there, displaced in a downward direction by the prism. At the same time I see it coloured.

What then do you see in this case? Watch what you see, state it simply and then connect it with the fundamental fact we have just now been ascertaining. Then, what you actually see will emerge in all detail. Only you must hold to what is really seen. For if you are looking thus into the bright cylinder of light—which, once again, is coming now towards you—you see something light, namely the cylinder of light itself, but you are seeing it through dark. (That there is something darkened here, is clearly proved by the fact that blue arises in this region). Through something darkened—through the blue colour, in effect—you look at something light, namely at the cylinder-of-light coming towards you. Through what is dark you look at what is light; here therefore you should be seeing yellow or yellowish-red—in a word, yellow and red,—as in fact you do. Likewise the red colour below is proof that here is a region irradiated with light. For as I said just now, the light here over-whelms the dark. Thus as you look in this direction, however bright the cylinder of light itself may be, you still see it through an irradiation of light, in relation to which it is dark. Below, therefore, you are looking at dark through light and you will see blue or bluish-red. You need but express the primal phenomenon,—it tells you what you actually see. Your eye is here encountered by what you would be seeing in the other instance. Here for example is the blue and you are looking through it; therefore the light appears reddish. At the bottom edge you have a region that is lighted up. However light the cylinder of light may be, you see it through a space that is lit up. Thus you are seeing something darker through an illumined space and so you see it blue. It is the polarity that matters.

For the phenomenon we studied first—that on the screen—you may use the name “objective” colours if you wish to speak in learned terms. This other one—the one you see in looking through the prism—will then be called the “subjective” spectrum. The “subjective” spectrum appears as an inversion of the “objective”.

Concerning all these phenomena there has been much intellectual speculation, my dear Friends, in modern time. The phenomena have not merely been observed and stated purely as phenomena, as we have been endeavouring to do. There has been ever so much speculation about them; indeed, beginning with the famous Newton, Science has gone to the utter-most extremes in speculation. Newton, having first seen and been impressed by this colour-spectrum, began to speculate as to the nature of light. Here is the prism, said Newton; we let the white light in. The colours are already there in the white light; the prism conjures them forth and now they line up in formation. I have then dismembered the white light into its constituents. Newton now imagined that to every colour corresponds a kind of substance, so that seven colours altogether are contained as specific substances in the light. Passing the light through the prism is to Newton like a kind of chemical analysis, whereby the light is separated into seven distinct substances. He even tried to imagine which of the substances emit relatively larger corpuscles—tiny spheres or pellets—and which smaller. According to this conception the Sun sends us its light, we let it into the room through a circular opening and it goes through in a cylinder of light. This light however consists of ever so many corpuscles—tiny little bodies. Striking the surface of the prism they are diverted from their original course. Eventually they bombard the screen. There then these tiny cannon-balls impinge. The smaller ones fly farther up, the larger ones remain farther down. The smallest are the violet, the largest are the red. So then the large are separated from the small.

This idea that there is a substance or that there are a number of substances flying through space was seriously shaken before long by other physicists—Huyghens, Young and others,—until at last the physicists said to themselves: The theory of little corpuscular cannon-balls starting from somewhere, projected through a refracting medium or not as the case may be, arriving at the screen and there producing a picture, or again finding their way into the eye and giving rise in us to the phenomenon of red, etc.,—this will not do after all. They were eventually driven to this conclusion by an experiment of Fresnel's, towards which some preliminary work had however been done before, by the Jesuit Grimaldi among others.

Fresnel's experiment shook the corpuscular theory very considerably. His experiments are indeed most interesting, and we must try to get a clear idea of what is really happening when experiments are set up in the way he did. I beg you now, pay very careful attention to the pure facts; we want to study such a phenomenon quite exactly. Suppose I have two mirrors and a source of light—a flame for instance, shedding its light from here (Figure IVd). If I then put up a screen—say, here—I shall get pictures by means of the one mirror and also pictures by means of the other mirror. Such is the distribution you are to assume; I draw it in cross-section. Here are two looking-glasses—plane mirrors, set at a very small angle to one another,—here is a source of light, I will call it L, and here a screen. The light is reflected and falls on to the screen; so then I can illumine the screen with the reflected light. For if I let the light strike here, with the help of this mirror I can illumine this part of the screen, making it lighter here than in the surrounding region. Now I have here a second mirror, by which the light is reflected a little differently. Part of the cone of light, as reflected from here below (from the second mirror) on to the screen, still falls into the upper part. The inclination of the two mirrors is such that the screen is lighted up both by reflection from the upper mirror and by reflection from the lower. It will then be as though the screen were being illumined from two different places. Now suppose a physicist, witnessing this experiment, were thinking in Newton's way. He would argue: There is the source of light. It bombards the first mirror, hurling its little cannon-balls in this direction. After recoiling from the mirror they reach the screen and light it up. Meanwhile, the others are recoiling from the lower mirror, for many of them go in that direction also. It will be very much lighter on the screen when there are two mirrors than when there is only one. Therefore if I remove the second mirror the screen will surely be less illumined by reflected light than when the two mirrors are there. So would our physicist argue, although admittedly one rather devastating thought might occur to him, for surely while these little bodies are going on their way after reflection, the others are on their downward journey (see the figure). Why then the latter should not hit the former and drive them from their course, is difficult to see. Nay, altogether, in the textbooks you will find the prettiest accounts of what is happening according to the wave-theory, but while these things are calculated very neatly, one cannot but reflect that no one ever figures out, when one wave rushes criss-cross through the other, how can this simply pass unnoticed?

Now let us try to grasp what happens in reality in this experiment. Suppose that this is the one stream of light. It is thrown by reflection across here, but now the other stream of light arrives here and encounters it,—the phenomenon is undeniable. The two disturb each other. The one wants to rush on; the other gets in the way and, in consequence, extinguishes the light coming from the other side. In rushing through it extinguishes the light. Here therefore on the screen we do not get a lighting-up but in reality darkness is reflected across here. So we here get an element of darkness (Figure IVe). But now all this is not at rest,—it is in constant movement. What has here been disturbed, goes on. Here, so to speak, a hole has arisen in the light. The light rushed through; a hole was made, appearing dark. And as an outcome of this “hole”, the next body-of-light will go through all the more easily and alongside the darkness you will have a patch of light so much the lighter. The next thing to happen, one step further on, is that once more a little cylinder of light from above impinges on a light place, again extinguishes the latter, and so evokes another element of darkness. And as the darkness in its turn has thus moved on another step, here once again the light is able to get through more easily. We get the pattern of a lattice, moving on from step to step. Turn by turn, the light from above can get through and extinguishes the other, producing darkness, once again, and this moves on from step to step. Here then we must obtain an alternation of light and dark, because the upper light goes through the lower and in so doing makes a lattice work.

This is what I was asking you most thoroughly to think of; you should be able to follow in your thought, how such a lattice arises. You will have alternating patches of light and dark, inasmuch as light here rushes into light. When one light rushes into another the light is cancelled—turned to darkness. The fact that such a lattice arises is to be explained by the particular arrangement we have made with these two mirrors. The velocity of light—nay, altogether what arises here by way of differences in velocity of light,—is not of great significance. What I am trying to make clear is what here arises within the light itself by means of this apparatus, so that a lattice-work is reflected—light, dark, light, dark, and so on.

Now yonder physicist—Fresnel himself, in fact—argued as follows: If light is a streaming of tiny corpuscular bodies, it goes without saying that the more bodies are being hurled in a particular direction, the lighter it must grow there,—or else one would have to assume that the one corpuscle eats up the other! The simple theory of corpuscular emanation will not explain this phenomenon of alternating light and dark. We have just seen how it is really to be explained. But it did not occur to the physicists to take the pure phenomenon as such, which is what one should do. Instead, and by analogy with certain other phenomena, they set to work to explain it in a materialistic way. Bombarding little balls of matter would no longer do. Therefore they said: Let us assume, not that the light is in itself a stream of fine substances, but that it is a movement in a very fine substantial medium—the “ether”. It is a movement in the ether. And, to begin with, they imagined that light is propagated through the ether in the same way as sound is through air (Euler for instance thought of it thus). If I call forth a sound, the sound is propagated through the air in such a way that if this is the place where the sound is evoked, the air in the immediate neighbourhood is, to begin with, compressed. Compressed air arises here. Now the compressed air presses in its turn on the adjoining air. It expands, momentarily producing in this neighbourhood a layer of attenuated air. Through these successions of compression and expansion, known as waves, we imagine sound to spread. To begin with, they assumed that waves of this kind are also kindled in the ether. However, there were phenomena at variance with this idea; so then they said to themselves: Light is indeed an undulatory movement, but the waves are of a different kind from those of sound. In sound there is compression here, then comes attenuation, and all this moves on. Such waves are “longitudinal”. For light, this notion will not do. In light, the particles of ether must be moving at right angles to the direction in which the light is being propagated. When, therefore, what we call a “ray of light” is rushing through the air—with a velocity, you will recall, of 300,000 kilometres a second—the tiny particles will always be vibrating at right angles to the direction in which the light is rushing. When this vibration gets into our eye, we perceive it.

Apply this to Fresnel's experiment: we get the following idea. The movement of the light is, once again, a vibration at right angles to the direction in which the light is propagated. This ray, going towards the lower one of the two mirrors, is vibrating, say, in this way and impinges here. As I said before, the fact that wave-movements in many directions will be going criss-cross through each other, is disregarded. According to the physicists who think along these lines, they will in no way disturb each other. Here however, at the screen in this experiment, they do; or again, they reinforce each other. In effect, what will happen here? When the train of waves arrives here, it may well be that the one infinitesimal particle with its perpendicular vibrations happens to be vibrating downward at the very moment when the other is vibrating upward. Then they will cancel each other out and darkness will arise at this place. Or if the two are vibrating upward at the same moment, light will arise. Thus they explain, by the vibrations of infinitesimal particles, what we were explaining just now by the light itself. I was saying that we here get alternations of light patches and dark. The so-called wave-theory of light explains them on the assumption that light is a wave-movement in the other [ether?]. If the infinitesimal particles are vibrating so as to reinforce each other, a lighter patch will arise; if contrary to one another, we get a darker patch.

You must realize what a great difference there is between taking the phenomena purely as they are—setting them forth, following them with our understanding, remaining amid the phenomena themselves—and on the other hand adding to them our own inventions. This movement of the ether is after all a pure invention. Having once invented such a notion we can of course make calculations about it, but that affords no proof that it is really there. All that is purely kinematical or phoronomical in these conceptions are merely thought by us, and so is all the arithmetic. You see from this example: our fundamental way of thought requires us so to explain the phenomena that they themselves be the eventual explanation; they must contain their own explanation. Please set great store by this. Mere spun-out theories and theorizings are to be rejected. You can explain what you like by adding things out of the blue, of which man has no knowledge. Of course the waves might conceivably be there, and it might be that the one swings upward when the other downward so that they cancel each other out. But they have all been invented! What is there however without question is this lattice,—this we see fully reflected. It is to the light itself that we must look, if we desire a genuine and not a spurious, explanation.

Now I was saying just now: when the one light goes through the other, or enters into any kind of relation to it, it may well have a dimming or even extinguishing effect upon the other, just as the effect of the prism is to dim the light. This is again brought out in the following experiment, which we shall actually be doing, I will now make a drawing of it. We may have what I shewed you yesterday—a spectrum extending from violet to red—engendered directly by the Sun. But we can also generate the spectrum in another way. Instead of letting the Sun shine through an opening in the wall, we make a solid body glow with heat,—incandescent (Figure IVf). When we have by and by got it white-hot, it will also give us such a spectrum. It does not matter if we get the spectrum from the Sun or from an incandescent body.

Now we can also generate a spectrum in a somewhat different way (Figure IVg). Suppose this is a prism and this a sodium flame—a flame in which the metal sodium is volatilizing. The sodium is turned to gas; it burns and volatilizes. We make a spectrum of the sodium as it volatilizes. Then a peculiar thing happens. Making a spectrum, not from the Sun or from a glowing solid body but from a glowing gas, we find one place in the spectrum strongly developed. For sodium light it is in the yellow. Here will be red, orange, yellow, you will remember. It is the yellow that is most strongly developed in the spectrum of sodium. The rest of the spectrum is stunted—hardly there at all. All this—from violet to yellow and then again from yellow to red—is stunted. We seem to get a very narrow bright yellow strip, or as is generally said, a yellow line. Mark well, the yellow line also arises inasmuch as it is part of an entire spectrum, only the rest of the spectrum in this case is stunted, atrophied as it were.

From diverse bodies we can make spectra of this kind appearing not as a proper spectrum but in the form of bright, luminous lines. From this you see that vice-versa, if we do not know what is in a flame and we make a spectrum of it, we can conclude, if we get this yellow spectrum for example, that there is sodium in the flame. So we can recognize which of the metals is there.

But the remarkable thing comes about when we combine the two experiments. We generate this cylinder of light and the spectrum of it, while at the same time we interpose the sodium flame, so that the glowing sodium somehow unites with the cylinder of light (Figure IVh). What happens then is very like what I was shewing you in Fresnel's experiment. In the resulting spectrum you might expect the yellow to appear extra strong, since it is there to begin with and now the yellow of the sodium flame is added to it. But this is not what happens. On the contrary, the yellow of the sodium flame extinguishes the other

yellow and you get a dark place here. Precisely where you would expect a lighter part you get a darker. Why is it so? It simply depends on the intensity of force that is brought to bear. If the sodium light arising here were selfless enough to let the kindred yellow light arising here it would have to extinguish itself in so doing. This it does not do; it puts itself in the way at the very place where the yellow should be coming through. It is simply there, and though it is yellow itself, the effect of it is not to intensify but to extinguish. As a real active force, it puts itself in the way, even as an indifferent obstacle might do; it gets in the way. This yellow part of the spectrum is extinguished and a black strip is brought about instead. From this again you see, we need only bear in mind what is actually there. The flowing light itself gives us the explanation.

These are the things which I would have you note. A physicist explaining things in Newton's way would naturally argue: If I here have a piece of white—say, a luminous strip—and I look at it through the prism, it appears to me in such a way that I get a spectrum: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, dark blue, violet (Figure IVi). Goethe said: Well, at a pinch, that might do. If Nature really is like that—if she has made the light composite—we might well assume that with the help of the prism this light gets analyzed into its several parts. Good and well; but now the very same people who say the light consists of these seven colours—so that the seven colours are parts or constituents of the light—these same people allege that darkness is just nothing,—is the mere absence of light. Yet if I leave a strip black in the midst of white—if I have simple white paper with a black strip in the middle and look at this through a prism,—then too I find I get a rainbow, only the colours are now in a different order (Figure IVk),—mauve in the middle, and on the one side merging into greenish-blue. I get a band of colours in a different order. On the analysis-theory I ought now to say: then the black too is analyzable and I should thus be admitting that darkness is more than the mere absence of light. The darkness too would have to be analyzable and would consist of seven colours. This, that he saw the black band too in seven colours, only in a different order,—this was what put Goethe off. And this again shews us how needful it is simply to take the phenomena as we find them.

My dear Friends,

Today I will begin by shewing, as well as may be with our limited resources, the experiment of which we spoke last time. You will remember: when an incandescent solid body spreads its light and we let this light go through a prism, we get a “spectrum”, a luminous picture, very like what we should get from the Sun, (compare Figure IVf), towards the end of Lecture IV). Now we can also obtain a luminous picture with the light that spreads from a glowing gas; however this picture only shews one or more single lines of light or little bands of light at different places, according to the substance used, (Figure IVg). The rest of the spectrum is stunted, so to speak. By very careful experiment, it is true, we should perceive that everything luminous gives a complete spectrum—expending all the way from red to violet, to say no more. Suppose for example we make a spectrum with glowing sodium gas: in the midst of a very feeble spectrum there is at one place a far more intense yellow line, making the rest seem even darker by contrast. Sodium is therefore often spoken of as giving only this yellow line.

And now we come to the remarkable fact, which, although not unknown before, was brought to light above all in 1859 by the famous experiment of Kirchhoff and Bunsen. If we arrange things so that the source of light generating the continuous spectrum and the one generating, say, the sodium line, can take effect as it were simultaneously, the sodium line will be found to act like an untransparent body. It gets in the way of the quality of light which would be appearing at this place (i.e. in the yellow) of the spectrum. It blots it out, so that we get a black line here in place of yellow, (Figure IVh). Simply to state the fact, this then is what we have to say: For the yellow of the spectrum, another yellow (the strength of which must be at least equal to the strength of light that is just being developed at this place of the spectrum) acts like an opaque body. As you will presently see, the elements we are compiling will pave the way to an understanding also of this phenomenon. In the first place however we must get hold of the pure facts.

We will now shew you, as well as we are able, that this dark line does really appear in the spectrum when we interpose the glowing sodium. We have not been able to arrange the experiment so as to project the spectrum on to a screen. Instead we will observe the spectrum by looking straight into it with our eyes. For it is possible to see the spectrum in this way too; it then appears displaced downward instead of upward, moreover the colours are reversed. We have already discussed, why it is that the colours appear in this way when we simply look through the prism.

By means of this apparatus, we here generate the cylinder of light; we let it go through here, and, looking into it, we see it thus refracted. (The experiment was shewn to everyone in turn).

To use the short remaining time—we shall now have to consider the relation of colours to what we call “bodies”. As a transition to this problem looking for the relations between the colours and what we commonly call “bodies”—I will however also shew the following experiment. You now see the complete spectrum projected on to the screen. Into the path of the cylinder of light I place a trough in which there is a little iodine dissolved in carbon disulphide. Note how the spectrum is changed. When I put into the path of the cylinder of light the solution of iodine in carbon disulphide, this light is extinguished. You see the spectrum clearly divided into two portions; the middle part is blotted out. You only see the violet on the one side, the reddish-yellow on the other. In that I cause the light to go through this solution—iodine in carbon disulphide—you see the complete spectrum divided into two portions; you only see the two poles on either hand.

It has grown late and I shall now only have time for a for a few matters of principle. Concerning the relation of the colours to the bodies we see around us (all of which are somehow coloured in the last resort), the point will be explained how it comes about that they appear coloured at all. How comes it in effect that the material bodies have this relation to the light? How do they, simply by dint of their material existence so to speak, develop such relation to the light that one body looks red, another blue, and so on. It is no doubt simplest to say: When colourless sunlight—according to the physicists, a gathering of all the colours—falls on a body that looks red, this is due to the body's swallowing all the other colours and only throwing back the red. With like simplicity we can explain why another body appears blue. It swallows the remaining colours and throws back the blue alone. We on the other hand have to eschew these speculative explanations and to approach the fact in question—namely the way we see what we call “coloured bodies”—by means of the pure facts. Fact upon fact in proper sequence will then at last enable us in time to “catch”—as it were, to close in upon—this very complex phenomenon.

The following will lead us on the way. Even in the 17th Century, we may remember, when alchemy was still pursued to some extent, they spoke of so-called “phosphores” or light-bearers. This is what they meant:—A Bologna cobbler, to take one example, was doing some alchemical experiments with a kind of Heavy Spar (Barytes). He made of it what was then called “Bologna stone”. When he exposed this to the light, a strange phenomenon occurred. After exposure the stone went on shining for a time, emitting a certain coloured light. The Bologna stone had acquired a relation to the light, which it expressed by being luminous still after exposure—after the light had been removed. Stones of this kind were then investigated in many ways and were called “phosphores”, If you come across the word “phosphor” or “phosphorus” in the literature of that time, you need not take it to mean what is called “Phosphorus” today; it refers to phosphorescent bodies of this kind—bearers of light, i.e. phos-phores.

However, even this phenomenon of after-luminescence—phosphor escence—is not the simplest. Another phenomenon is really the simple one. If you take ordinary paraffin oil and look through it towards a light, the oil appears slightly yellow. If on the other hand you place yourself so as to let the light pass through the oil while you look at it from behind, the oil will seem to be shining with a bluish light—only so long, however, as the light impinges on it. The same experiment can be made with a variety of other bodies. It is most interesting if you make a solution of plant green—chlorophyll (Figure Va). Look towards the light through the solution and it appears green. But if you take your stand to some extent behind it—if this (Figure Va) is the solution and this the light going through it, while you look from behind to where the light goes through—the chlorophyll shines back with a red or reddish light, just as the paraffin shone blue.

There are many bodies with this property. They shine in a different way when, so to speak, they of themselves send the light back—when they have somehow come into relation to the light, changing it through their own nature—than when the light goes through them as through a transparent body. Look at the chlorophyll from behind: we see—so to speak—what the light has been doing in the chlorophyll; we see the mutual relation between the light and the chlorophyll. When in this way a body shines with one kind of light while illumined by another kind of light, we call the phenomenon Fluorescence. And, we may say: what in effect is Phosphorescence? It is a Fluorescence that lasts longer. For it is Fluorescence when the chlorophyll, for instance, shines with a reddish light so long as it is exposed to light. When there is Phosphorescence on the other hand, as with the Bologna stone, we can take the light away and the thing still goes on shining for a time. It thus retains the property of shining with a coloured light,—a property the chlorophyll does not retain. So you have two stages. The one is Fluorescence: we make a body coloured so long as we illumine it. The second is Phosphorescence: we cause a body to remain coloured still for a certain time after illumination. And now there is a third stage: the body, as an outcome of whatever it is that the light does with it, appears with a lasting colour. We have this sequence: Fluorescence, Phosphorescence, Colouredness-of-bodies.

Thus we have placed the phenomena, in a manner of speaking, side by side. What we must try to do is to approach the phenomena rightly with our thinking, our forming of ideas. There is another fundamental idea which you will need to get hold of today, for we shall afterwards want to relate it to all these other things. Please, once again, only think quite exactly of what I shall bring forward. Think as precisely as you can. I will remind you again (as once before in these lectures) of the formula for a velocity, say \(v\). A velocity is expressed, as you know, in dividing \(s\), the distance which the mobile object passes through, by the time \(t\). This therefore is the formula:

Now the opinion prevails that what is actually given in real Nature in such a case is the distance \(s\) the body passes through, and the time \(t\) it takes to do it. We are supposed to be dividing the real distance \(s\) by the real time \(t\), to get the velocity \(v\), which as a rule is not regarded as being quite so real but more as a kind of function, an outcome of the division sum. Thus the prevailing opinion. And yet in Nature it is not so. Of the three magnitudes—velocity, space and time,—velocity is the only one that has reality. What is really there in the world outside us is the velocity; the \(s\) and \(t\) we only get by splitting up the given totality, the \(v\), into two abstract entities. We only arrive at these on the basis of the velocity, which is really there. This then, to some extent, is our procedure. We see a so-called “body” flowing through space with a certain velocity. That it has this velocity, is the one real thing about it. But now we set to work and think. We no longer envisage the quick totality, the quickly moving body; instead, we think in terms of two abstractions. We dismember, what is really one, into two abstractions. Because there is a velocity, there is a distance moved through. This distance we envisage in the first place, and in the second place we envisage the time it takes to do it. From the velocity, the one thing actually there, we by our thinking process have sundered space and time; yet the space in question is not there at all save as an outcome of the velocity, nor for that matter is the time. The space and time, compared to this real thing which we denote as \(v\), are no realities at all, they are abstractions which we ourselves derive from the velocity. We shall not come to terms with outer reality, my dear Friends, till we are thoroughly clear on this point. We in our process of conception have first created this duality of space and time. The real thing we have outside us is the velocity and that alone; as to the “space” and “time”, we ourselves have first created them by virtue of the two abstractions into which—if you like to put it so—the velocity can fall apart for us.

From the velocity, in effect, we can separate ourselves, while from the space and time we cannot; they are within our perceiving,—in our perceiving activity. With space and time we are one. Much is implied in what I am now saying. With space and time we are one. Think of it well. We are not one with the velocity that is there outside us, but we are one with space and time. Nor should we, without more ado, ascribe to external bodies what we ourselves are one with; we should only use it to gain a proper idea of these external bodies. All we should say is that through space and time, with which we ourselves are very intimately united, we learn to know and understand the real velocity. We should not say “The body moves through such and such a distance”; we ought only to say: “The body has a velocity”. Nor should we say, “The body takes so much time to do it,” but once again only this: “The body has a velocity”. By means of space and time we only measure the velocity. The space and time are our own instruments. They are bound to us,—that is the essential thing. Here once again you see the sharp dividing line between what is generally called “subjective”—here, space and time—and the “objective” thing—here, the velocity. It will be good, my dear Friends, if you will bring this home to yourselves very clearly; the truth will then dawn upon you more and more: \(v\) is not merely the quotient of \(s\) and \(t\). Numerically, it is true, \(v\) is expressed by the quotient of \(s\) and \(t\). What I express by this number \(v\) is however a reality in its own right—a reality of which the essence is, to have velocity.

What I have here shewn you with regard to space and time—namely that they are inseparable from us and we ought not in thought to separate ourselves from them—is also true of another thing. But, my dear Friends (if I may say this in passing), people are still too much obsessed with the old Konigsberg habit, by which I mean, the Kantian idea. The “Konigsberg” habit must be got rid of, or else it might be thought that I myself have here been talking “Konigsberg”, as if to say “Space and Time are within us.” But that is not what I am saying. I say that in perceiving the reality outside us the—velocity—we make use of space and time for our perception. In effect, space and time are at once in us and outside us. The point is that we unite with space and time, while we do not unite with the velocity. The latter whizzes past us. This is quite different from the Kantian idea.

Now once again: what I have said of space and time is also true of something else. Even as we are united by space and time with the objective reality, while we first have to look for the velocity, so in like manner, we are in one and the same element with the so-called bodies whenever we behold them by means of light. We ought not to ascribe objectivity to light any more than to space and time. We swim in space and time just as the bodies swim in it with their velocities. So too we swim in the light, just as the bodies swim in the light. Light is an element common to us and the things outside us—the so-called bodies. You may imagine therefore: Say you have gradually filled the dark room with light, the space becomes filled with something—call it \(x\), if you will—something in which you are and in which the things outside you are. It is a common element in which both you, and that which is outside you, swim. But we have still to ask: How do we manage to swim in light? We obviously cannot swim in it with what we ordinarily call our body. We do however swirl in it with our etheric body. You will never understand what light is without going into these realities. We with our etheric body swim in the light (or, if you will, you may say, in the light-ether; the word does not matter in this connection). Once again therefore: With our etheric body we are swimming in the light.

Now in the course of these lectures we have seen how colours arise—and that in many ways—in and about the light itself. In the most manifold ways, colours arise in and about the light; so also they arise, or they subsist, in the so-called bodies. We see the ghostly, spectral colours so to speak,—those that arise and vanish within the light itself. For if I only cast a spectrum here it is indeed like seeing spectres; it hovers, fleeting, in space. Such colours therefore we behold, in and about the light.

In the light, I said just now, we swim with our etheric body. How then do we relate ourselves to the fleeting colours? We are in them with our astral body; it is none other than this. We are united with the colours with our astral body. You have no alternative, my dear Friends but to realise that when and wheresoever you see colours, with your astrality you are united with them. If you would reach any genuine knowledge you have no alternative, but must say to yourselves: The light remains invisible to us; we swim in it. Here it is as with space and time; we ought not to call them objective, for we ourselves are swimming in them. So too we should regard the light as an element common to us and to the things outside us; whilst in the colours we have to recognize something that can only make its appearance inasmuch as we through our astral body come into relation to what the light is doing there.

Assume now that in this space \(ABCD\) you have in some way brought about a phenomenon of colour—say, a spectrum. I mean now, a phenomenon that takes its course purely within the light. You must refer it to an astral relation to the light. But you may also have the phenomenon of colour in the form of a coloured surface. This therefore—from \(A\) to \(C,\) say—may be appearing to you as a coloured body, a red body for example. We say, then, \(AC\) is red. You look towards the surface of the body, and, to begin with, you will imagine rather crudely. Beneath the surface it is red, through and through. This time, you see, the case is different. Here too you have an astral relation; but from the astral relation you enter into with the colour in this instance you are separated by the bodily surface. Be sure you understand this rightly! In the one instance you see colours in the light—spectral colours. There you have astral relations of a direct kind; nothing is interposed between you and the colours. When on the other hand you see the colours of bodily objects, something is interposed between you and your astral body, and through this something you none the less entertain astral relations to what we call “bodily colours”. Please take these things to heart and think them through. For they are basic concepts—very important ones—which we shall need to elaborate. Only on these lines shall we achieve the necessary fundamental concepts for a truer Physics.

One more thing I would say in conclusion. What I am trying to present in these lectures is not what you can get from the first text-book you may purchase. Nor is it what you can get by reading Goethe's Theory of Colour. It is intended to be, what you will find in neither of the two, and what will help you make the spiritual link between them. We are not credulous believers in the Physics of today, nor need we be of Goethe. It was in 1832 that Goethe died. What we are seeking is not a Goetheanism of the year 1832 but one of 1919,—further evolved and developed. What I have said just now for instance—this of the astral relation—please think it through as thoroughly as you are able.

My dear Friends,

In our last lecture we were going into certain matters of principle which I will now try to explain more fully. For if we start from the experiences we can gain in the realm of light, it will also help us observe and understand other natural phenomena which we shall presently be studying. I will therefore begin today with these more theoretical reflections and put off the experimental part until tomorrow. We must determine still more exactly the method of our procedure. It is the task of Science to discern and truly to set forth the facts in the phenomena of Nature. Problems of method which this task involves can best be illustrated in the realm of Light.

Men began studying the phenomena of light in rather recent times, historically speaking. Nay, the whole way of thinking about the phenomena of Physics, presented in the schools today, reaches hardly any farther back than the 16th century. The way men thought of such phenomena before the 16th century was radically different. Today at school we get so saturated with the present way of thought that if you have been through this kind of schooling it is extremely difficult for you to find your way back to the pure facts. You must first cultivate the habit of feeling the pure facts as such; please do not take my words in a too trivial meaning. You have to learn to sense the facts, and this takes time and trouble.

I will now take my start from a particular instance wherein we may compare the way of thought prevailing in the schools today with that which can be gained by following the facts straightforwardly. Suppose this were a plate of glass, seen in cross-section (Figure VIa). Through it you look at a luminous object. As I am drawing it diagrammatically, let me represent the latter simply by a light circle. Cast your mind back to what you learned in your school days. What did they teach you of the phenomenon you see when you observe the luminous object,—with your eye, say, here—looking through the glass? You were no doubt told that rays of light proceed from the luminous object. (We are imagining the eye to be looking in this particular direction,—see the Figure). Rays, you were told, proceed from the shining object. In the direction of the “ray” I am now drawing, the light was said to penetrate from a more tenuous into a denser medium. Simply by looking through the glass and comparing what you see with what you saw before the plate of glass was there, you do indeed perceive the thing displaced. It appears at a different place than without the glass. Now this is said to be due to the light being “refracted”. This is how they are wont to put it:—When the light passes from a more tenuous into a denser medium, to find the direction in which the light will be refracted, you must draw the so-called “normal at the point of incidence”. If the light went on its way without being hindered by a denser medium, it would go on in this direction. But, they now say, the light is “refracted”—in this case, towards the normal, i.e. towards the perpendicular to the glass surface at the point of incidence. Now it goes out again,—out of the glass. (All this is said, you will remember, in tracing how the “ray of light” is seen through the denser medium.) Here then again, at the point of exit from the glass, you will have to erect the normal. If the light went straight on it would go thus: but at this second surface it is again refracted—this time, away from the normal—refracted just enough to make it go on parallel to its original direction. And now the eye, looking as it is from here, is said to produce the final direction of the ray of light and thus to project the luminous object so much the higher up. This then is what we are asked to assume, if we be looking through such a plate of glass. Here, to begin with, the light impinges on the plate, then it is twice refracted—once towards the normal, a second time away from the normal. Then, inasmuch as the eye has the inner faculty to do so (.... or is it to the soul, or to some demon that you ascribe this faculty ....) the light is somehow projected out into space. It is projected moreover to a position different from where it would appear if we were not seeing it through a refracting medium;—so they describe the process.

The following should be observed to begin with, in this connection. Say we are looking at anything at all through the same denser medium, and we now try to discriminate, however delicately, between the darker and lighter portions of what we see. Not only the lighter parts, the darker too will appear shifted upward. The entire complex we are looking at is found to be displaced. Please take this well into account. Here is a darker part bordering on a lighter. The dark is shifted upward, and since one end of it is lighter we see this shifted too. Placing before us any such complex, consisting of a darker and a lighter part, we must admit the lighter part is displaced simply as the upper boundary of the darker. Instead, they speak in such a way as to abstract the one light patch from all the rest that is there. Mostly they speak as though the light patch alone were suffering displacement. Surely this is wrong. For even if I fix my gaze on this one patch of light, it is not true that it alone is shifted upward. The part below it, which I am treating as if it were just nothing when I describe it thus, is shifted upward too. In point of fact, what is displaced in these optical phenomena can never be thus abstractly confined. If therefore I repeat Newton's experiment—I let into the room a cone of light which then gets diverted by the prism—it simply is not true that the cone of light is diverted all alone. Whatever the cone of light is bordering on—above it and below—is diverted too. I really ought never to speak of rays of light or anything of that kind, but only of luminous pictures or spaces-of-light being diverted. In a particular instance I may perhaps want to refer to some isolated light, but even then I still ought not to speak of it in such a way as to build my whole theory of the phenomenon upon it. I still ought to speak in such a way as to refer at the same time to all that borders on the light. Only if we think in this way can we begin to feel what is really going on when the phenomena of colour comes into being before our eyes. Otherwise our very habit of thought begets the impression that in some way the colours spring from the light alone. For from the very outset we have it settled in our mind that the one and only reality we are dealing with is the light. Yet, what we have before us in reality is never simply light as such; it is always something light, bordered on one side or other by darkness. And if the lighter part—the space it occupies—is shifted, the darker part is shifted too. But now, what is this “dark”? You must take the dark seriously,—take it as something real. (The errors that have crept into modern Physics since about the 16th century were only able to creep in because these things were not observed spiritually at the same time. Only the semblance, as appearing to the outer senses, was taken note of; then, to explain this outer semblance, all kinds of theoretical inventions were added to it). You certainly will not deny that when you look at light the light is sometimes more and sometimes less intense. There can be stronger light and less strong. The point is now to understand: How is this light, which may be stronger or weaker related to darkness? The ordinary physicist of today thinks there is stronger light and less strong; he will admit every degree of intensity of light, but he will only admit one darkness—darkness which is simply there when there is no light. There is, as it were, only one way of being black. Yet as untrue as it would be to say that there is only one kind of lightness, just as untrue is it to say that there is only one kind of darkness. It is as one-sided as it would be to declare: “I know four men. One of them owns £25, another £50; he therefore owns more than the other. The third of them is £25 in debt, the fourth is £50 in debt. Yet why should I take note of any difference in their case? It is precisely the same; both are in debt. I will by all means distinguish between more and less property, but not between different degrees of debt. Debt is debt and that is all there is to it.” You see the fallacy at once in this example, for you know very well that the effect of being £25 in debt is less than that of being £50 in debt. But in the case of darkness this is how people think: Of light there are different degrees; darkness is simply darkness. It is this failure to progress to a qualitative way of thinking, which very largely prevents our discovering the bridge between the soul-and-spirit on the one hand, and the bodily realm on the other. When a space is filled with light it is always filled with light of a certain intensity; so likewise, when a space is filled with darkness, it is filled with darkness of a certain intensity. We must proceed from the notion of a merely abstract space to the kind of space that is not abstract but is in some specific way positively filled with light or negatively filled with darkness. Thus we may be confronting a space that is filled with light and we shall call it “qualitatively positive”. Or we may be confronting a space that is filled with darkness and we shall judge it “qualitatively negative” with respect to the realm of light. Moreover both to the one and to the other we shall be able to ascribe a certain degree of intensity, a certain strength. Now we may ask: How does the positive filling of space differ for our perception from the negative? As to the positive, we need only remember what it is like when we awaken from sleep and are surrounded by light,—how we unite our subjective experience with the light that floods and surges all around us. We need only compare this sensation with what we feel when surrounded by darkness, and we shall find—I beg you to take note of this very precisely—we shall find that for pure feeling and sensation there is an essential difference between being given up to a light-filled space and to a darkness-filled space. We must approach these things with the help of some comparison. Truly, we may compare the feeling we have, when given up to a light-filled space, with a kind of in-drawing of the light. It is as though our soul, our inner being, were to be sucking the light in. We feel a kind of enrichment when in a light-filled space. We draw the light into ourselves. How is it then with darkness? We have precisely the opposite feeling. We feel the darkness sucking at us. It sucks us out, we have to give away,—we have to give something of ourselves to the darkness. Thus we may say: the effect of light upon us is to communicate, to give; whilst the effect of darkness is to withdraw, to suck at us and take away. So too must we distinguish between the lighter and the darker colours. The light ones have a quality of coming towards us and imparting something to us; the dark colours on the other hand have a quality of drawing on us, sucking at us, making us give of ourselves. So at long last we are led to say: Something in our outer world communicates itself to us when we are under the influence of light; something is taken from us, we are somehow sucked out, when under the influence of darkness.

There is indeed another occasion in our life, when—as I said once before during these lectures—we are somehow sucked-out as to our consciousness; namely when we fall asleep. Consciousness ceases. It is a very similar phenomenon, like a cessation of consciousness, when from the lighter colours we draw near the darker ones, the blue and violet. And if you will recall what I said a few days ago about the relation of our life of soul to mass,—how we are put to sleep by mass, how it sucks-out our consciousness,—you will feel something very like this in the absorption of our consciousness by darkness. So then you will discern the deep inner kinship between the condition space is in when filled with darkness and on the other hand the filling of space which we call matter, which is expressed in “mass”.

Thus we shall have to seek the transition from the phenomena of light to the phenomena of material existence. We have indeed paved the way, in that we first looked for the fleeting phenomena of light—phosphorescence and fluorescence—and then the firm and fast phenomena of light, the enduring colours. We cannot treat all these things separately; rather let us begin by setting out the whole complex of these facts together.

Now we shall also need to recognize the following, When we are in a light-filled space we do in a way unite with this light-filled space. Something in us swings out into the light-filled space and unites with it. But we need only reflect a little on the facts and we shall recognize an immense difference between the way we thus unite with the light-flooded spaces of our immediate environment and on the other hand the way we become united with the warmth-conditions of our environment,—for with these too, as human beings, we do somehow unite.

We do indeed share very much in the condition of our environment as regards warmth; and as we do so, here once again we feel a kind of polarity prevailing, namely the polarity of warm and cold. Yet we must needs perceive an essential difference between the way we feel ourselves within the warmth-condition of our environment and the way we feel ourselves within the light-condition of our environment. Physics, since the 16th century, has quite lost hold of this difference. The open-mindedness to distinguish how we join with our environment in the experience of light upon the one hand and warmth upon the other has been completely lost; nay, the deliberate tendency has been, somehow to blur and wipe away such differences as these. Suppose however that you face the difference, quite obviously given in point of fact, between the way we experience and share in the conditions of our environment as regards warmth and light respectively. Then in the last resort you will be bound to recognize that the distinction is: we share in the warmth-conditions of our environment with our physical body and in the light-conditions, as we said just now, with our etheric body. This in effect—this proneness to confuse what we become aware of through our ether-body and what we become aware of through our physical body—has been the bane of Physics since the 16th century. In course of time all things have thus been blurred. Our scientists have lost the faculty of stating facts straightforwardly and directly. This has been so especially since Newton's influence came to be dominant, as it still is to a great extent today. There have indeed been individuals who have attempted from time to time to draw attention to the straightforward facts simply as they present themselves. Goethe of course was doing it all through, and Kirchhoff among others tried to do it in more theoretic ways. On the whole however, scientists have lost the faculty of focusing attention purely and simply on the given facts. The fact for instance that material bodies in the neighbourhood of other material bodies will under given conditions fall towards them, has been conceived entirely in Newton's sense, being attributed from the very outset to a force proceeding from the one and affecting the other body—a “force of gravity”. Yet ponder how you will, you will never be able to include among the given facts what is understood by the term “force of gravity”. If a stone falls to the Earth the fact is simply that it draws nearer to the Earth. We see it now at one place, now at another, now at a third and so on. If you then say “The Earth attracts the stone” you in your thoughts are adding something to the given fact; you are no longer purely and simply stating the phenomenon.

People have grown ever more unaccustomed to state the phenomena purely, yet upon this all depends. For if we do not state the phenomena purely and simply, but proceed at once to thought-out explanations, we can find manifold explanations of one and the same phenomenon. Suppose for example you have two heavenly bodies. You may then say: These two heavenly bodies attract one another,—send some mysterious force out into space and so attract each other (Figure VIb). But you need not say this. You can also say: “Here is the one body, here is the other, and here (Figure VIc) are a lot of other, tiny bodies—particles of ether, it may be—all around and in between the two heavenly bodies. The tiny particles are bombarding the two big ones—bombarding here, there and on all sides;—the ones between, as they fly hither and thither, bombard them too. Now the total area of attack will be bigger outside than in between. In the resultant therefore, there will be less bombardment inside than outside; hence the two bodies will approach each other. They are, in fact, driven towards each other by the difference between the number of impacts they receive in the space between them and outside them.”

There have in fact been people who have explained the force of gravity simply by saying: It is a force acting at a distance and attracts the bodies towards each other. Others have said that that is nonsense; according to them it is unthinkable for any force to act at a distance. They then invite us to assume that space is filled with “ether”, and to assume this bombardment too. The masses then are, so to speak, for ever being sprayed towards each other. To add to these explanations there are no doubt many others. It is a classical example of how they fail to look at the real phenomenon but at once add their thought-out explanations.

Now what is at the bottom of it all? This tendency to add to the phenomena in thought—to add all manner of unknown agencies and fancied energies, presumed to be doing this or that—saves one the need of doing something else. Needless to say, the impacts in the theory of Figure VIc have been gratuitously added, just as the forces acting at a distance have been in the other theory. These adventitious theories, however, relieve one of the need of making one fundamental assumption, from which the people of today seem to be very much averse. For in effect, if these are two independent heavenly bodies and they approach each other, or show that it is in their nature to approach each other, we cannot but look for some underlying reason why they do so; there must be some inner reason. Now it is simpler to add in thought some unknown forces than to admit that there is also another way, namely no longer to think of the heavenly bodies as independent of each other. If for example I put my hand to my forehead, I shall not dream of saying that my forehead “attracts” my hand, but I shall say: It is an inner deed done by the underlying soul-and-spirit. My hand is not independent of my forehead; they are not really separate entities. I shall regard the phenomenon rightly only by recognising myself as a single whole. I should have no reality in mind if I were to say: There is a head, there are two arms and hands, there is a trunk, there are two legs. There would be nothing complete in that; I only have something complete in mind if I describe the whole human body as a single entity,—if I describe the different items so that they belong together. My task is not merely to describe what I see; I have to ponder the reality of what I see. The mere fact that I see a thing does not make it real.

Often I have made the following remark,—for I have had to indicate these things in other lectures too. Take a crystal cube of rock-salt. It is in some respect a totality. (Everything will be so in some respect). The crystal cube can exist by virtue of what it is within the compass of its six faces. But if you look at a rose, cut from the shrub it grew on, this rose is no totality. It cannot, like the cube of rock-salt, exist by virtue of all that is contained within it. The rose can only have existence by being of the rose-bush. The cut rose therefore, though you can see it just as you can see the cube of rock-salt, is a real abstraction; you may not call it a reality by itself.

The implications of this, my dear Friends, are far-reaching. Namely, for every phenomenon, we must examine to what extent it is a reality in itself, or a mere section of some larger whole. If you consider Sun and Moon, or Sun and Earth, each by itself, you may of course invent and add to them a force of gravity, just as you might invent a force of gravity by means of which my forehead would attract my right hand. But in considering Sun and Earth and Moon thus separately, the things you have in mind are not totalities; they are but parts and members of the whole planetary system.

This then is the essential thing; observe to what extent a thing is whole, or but a section of a whole. How many errors arise by considering to be a whole what is in fact only a partial phenomenon within a larger whole! By thus considering only the partial phenomena and then inventing energies to add to these, our scientists have saved themselves the need of contemplating the inherent life of the planetary system. The tendency has been, first to regard as wholes those things in Nature which are only parts, and by mere theories then to construe the effects which arise in fact between them. This therefore, to sum up, is the essential point: For all that meets us in Nature we have to ask: What is the whole to which this thing belongs? Or is it in itself a whole? Even then, in the last resort, we shall find that things are wholes only in certain respects. Even the crystal cube of rock-salt is a totality only in some respect; it too cannot exist save at certain temperatures and under other requisite conditions. Given some other temperature, it could no longer be. Our need is therefore to give up looking at Nature in the fragmentary way which is so prevalent in our time.

Indeed it was only by looking at Nature in this fragmentary way that Science since the 16th century conceived this strange idea of universal, inorganic, lifeless Nature. There is indeed no such thing, just as in this sense there is no such thing as your bony system without your blood. Just as your bony system could only come into being by, as it were, crystallizing out of your living organism as a whole, so too this so-called inorganic Nature cannot exist without the whole of Nature—soul and Spirit-Nature—that underlies it. Lifeless Nature is the bony system, abstracted from Nature as a whole. It is impossible to study it alone, as they began doing ever since the 16th century and as is done in Newtonian Physics to this day.

It was the trend of Newtonian Physics to make as neat as possible an extract of this so-called inorganic Nature, treating it then as something self-contained. This “inorganic Nature” only exists however in the machines which we ourselves piece together from the parts of Nature. And here we come to something radically different. What we are wont to call “inorganic” in Nature herself, is placed in the totality of Nature in quite another way. The only really inorganic things are our machines, and even these are only so insofar as they are pieced together from sundry forces of Nature by ourselves. Only the “put-togetherness” of them is inorganic. Whatever else we may call inorganic only exists by abstraction. From this abstraction however present-day Physics has arisen. This Physics is an outcome of abstraction; it thinks that what it has abstracted is the real thing, and on this assumption sets out to explain whatever comes within its purview

As against this, the only thing we can legitimately do is to form our ideas and concepts in direct connection with what is given to us from the outer world—the details of the sense-world. Now there is one realm of phenomena for which a very convenient fact is indeed given. If you strike a bell and have some light and very mobile device in the immediate neighbourhood, you will be able to demonstrate that the particles of the sounding bell are vibrating. Or with a pipe playing a note, you will be able to show that the air inside it is vibrating. For the phenomena of sound and tone therefore, you have the demonstrable movement of the particles of air or of the bell; so you will ascertain that there is a connection between the vibrations executed by a body or by the air and our perceptions of tone or sound. For this field of phenomena it is quite patent: vibrations are going on around us when we hear sounds. We can say to ourselves that unless the air in our environment is vibrating we shall not hear any sounds. There is a genuine connection—and we shall speak of it again tomorrow—between the sounds and the vibrations of the air.

Now if we want to proceed very abstractly we may argue: “We perceive sound through our organs of hearing. The vibrations of the air beat on our organ of hearing, and when they do so we perceive the sound. Now the eye too is a sense-organ and through it we perceive the colours; so we may say: here something similar must be at work. Some kind of vibration must be beating on the eye. But we soon see it cannot be the air. So then it is the ether.” By a pure play of analogies one is thus led to the idea: When the air beats upon our ear and we have the sensation of a sound, there is an inner connection between the vibrating air and our sensation; so in like manner, when the hypothetical ether with its vibrations beats upon our eye, a sensation of light is produced by means of this vibrating ether. And as to how the ether should be vibrating: this they endeavour to ascertain by means of such phenomena as we have seen in our experiments during these lectures. Thus they think out an universal ether and try to calculate what they suppose must be going on in this ethereal ocean. Their calculations relate to an unknown entity which cannot of course be perceived but can at most be assumed theoretically.

Even the very trifling experiments we have been able to make will have revealed the extreme complication of what is going on in the world of light. Till the more recent developments set in, our physicists assumed that behind—or, should we rather say, within—all thus that lives and finds expression in light and colour there is the vibrating ether, a tenuous elastic substance. And since the laws of impact and recoil of elastic bodies are not so difficult to get to know, they could compute what these vibrating little cobolds must be up to in the ether. They only had to regard them as little elastic bodies,—imagining the ether as an inherently elastic substance. So they could even devise explanations of the phenomena we have been showing,—e.g. the forming of the spectrum. The explanation is that the different kinds of ether-vibrations are dispersed by the prism; these different kinds of vibrations then appear to us as different colours. By calculation one may even explain from the elasticity of the ether the extinction of the sodium line for example, which we perceived in our experiment the day before yesterday.

In more recent times however, other phenomena have been discovered. Thus we can make a spectrum, in which we either create or extinguish the sodium line (i.e., in the latter case, we generate the black sodium line). If then in addition we bring an electro-magnet to bear upon the cylinder of light in a certain way, the electro-magnet affects the phenomenon of light. The sodium line is extinguished in its old place and for example two other lines arise, purely by the effect of the electricity with which magnetic effects are always somehow associated. Here, then, what is described as “electric forces” proves to be not without effect upon those processes which we behold as phenomena of light and behind which one had supposed the mere elastic ether to be working. Such discoveries of the effect of electricity on the phenomena of light now led to the assumption that there must be some kinship between the phenomena of light and those of magnetism and electricity.

Thus in more recent times the old theories were rather shaken. Before these mutual effects had been perceived, one could lean back and rest content. Now one was forced to admit that the two realms must have to do with each other. As a result, very many physicists now include what radiates in the form of light among the electro-magnetic effects. They think it is really electro-magnetic rays passing through space.

Now think a moment what has happened. The scientists had been assuming that they knew what underlies the phenomena of light and colour: namely, undulations in the elastic ether. Now that they learned of the interaction between light and electricity, they feel obliged to regard, what is vibrating there, as electricity raying through space. Mark well what has taken place. First it is light and colour which they desire to explain, and they attribute them to the vibrating ether. Ether-vibrations are moving through space. They think they know what light is in reality,—it is vibrations in the elastic ether. Then comes the moment when they have to say: What we regarded as vibrations of the elastic ether are really vibrations of electro-magnetic force. They know still better now, what light is, than they did before. It is electro-magnetic streams of force. Only they do not know what these are! Such is the pretty round they have been. First a hypothesis is set up: something belonging to the sense-world is explained by an unknown super-sensible, the vibrating ether. Then by and by they are driven to refer this super-sensible once more to something of the sense-world, yet at the same time to confess that they do not know what the latter is. It is a highly interesting journey that has here been made; from the hypothetical search for an unknown to the explanation of this unknown by yet another unknown.

The physicist Kirchhoff was rather shattered and more or less admitted: It will be not at all easy for Physics if these more recent phenomena really oblige us no longer to believe in the undulating ether. And when Helmholtz got to know of the phenomenon, he said: Very well, we shall have to regard light as a kind of electro-magnetic radiation. It only means that we shall now have to explain these radiations themselves as vibrations in the elastic ether. In the last resort we shall get back to these, he said.

The essence of the matter is that a genuine phenomenon of undulation—namely the vibrating of the air when we perceive sounds—was transferred by pure analogy into a realm where in point of fact the whole assumption is hypothetical.

I had to go into these matters of principle today, to give the necessary background. In quick succession we will now go through the most important aspects of those phenomena which we still want to consider. In our remaining hours I propose to discuss the phenomena of sound, and those of warmth, and of electro-magnetics; also whatever explanations may emerge from these for our main theme—the phenomena of optics.

My dear Friends,

We will begin today with an experiment bearing upon our studies of the theory of colour. As I have said before, all I can give you in this Course can only be improvised and aphoristic. Hence too I cannot keep to the conventional categories of the Physics textbooks,—in saying which I do not mean to imply that it would be better if I did. In the last resort I wish to lead you to a certain kind of insight into Science, and you must look on all that I bring forward in the meantime as a kind of preparation. We are not advancing in the usual straight line. We try to gather up the diverse phenomena we need, forming a circle as it were,—then to move forward from the circumference towards the centre.

You have seen that wherever colours arise there is a working-together of light and darkness. What we now have to do is to observe as many phenomena as we can before we try to theorize. We want to form a true conception of what underlies this interplay of light and darkness. Today I will begin by shewing you the phenomenon of coloured shadows, as they are called.

Here are two candles (Figure VIIa),—candles as sources of light—and an upright rod which will throw shadows on this screen. You see two shadows, without perceptible colour. You only need to take a good look at what is here before you, you will be bound to say: the shadow you are seeing on the right is the one thrown by the left-hand source of light. It is produced, in that the light from this source is hidden by the rod. Likewise the shadow on the left arises where the light from the right-hand source is covered. Relatively dark spaces are created,—that is all. Where the shadow is, is simply a dark space. Moreover, looking at the surface of the screen apart from the two bands of shadow, you will agree it is illumined by both sources of light. Now I will colour the one (the left-hand) light. I make the light go through a plate of coloured glass, so that this one of the lights is now coloured—that is, darkened to some extent. As a result, you will see that the shadow of the rod, due to this left-hand source of light—the one which I am darkening to red—this shadow on the right becomes green. It becomes green just as a purely white background does when you look sharply for example at a small red surface for a time, then turn your eye away and look straight at the white. You then see green where you formerly saw red, though there is nothing there. You yourself, as it were, see the green colour on to the white surface. In such a case, you are seeing the green surface as an after-image in time of the red which you were seeing just before, when you exposed your eye to the red surface that was actually there. And so in this case: when I darken the source of light to red, you see the shadow green. What was mere darkness before, you now see green. And now I darken the same source of light to green,—the shadow becomes red. And when I darken it to blue, an orange shadow is produced. If I should darken it to violet, it would give yellow.

And now consider please the following phenomenon; it is most important, therefore I mention it once more. Say in a room you have a red cushion with a white crochet cover, through the rhombic-patterned apertures of which the red of the cushion shines through. You look at the red rhombic pattern and then look away to the white. On the white ground you see the same lattice-work in green. Of course it isn't there, but your own eye is active and makes an after-effect, which, as you focus on the white, generates the green, “subjective” images, as one is wont to call them.

Goethe was familiar with this phenomenon, and also knew that of the coloured shadows. I darken this source of light and get green, said Goethe to himself, and he went on to describe it somewhat as follows: When I darken this source of light, the white screen as a whole shines red. I am not really seeing the white screen; what I see is a reddish-shining colour. In fact I see the screen more or less red. And as an outcome—as with the cushion mentioned just now—I with my own eye generate the contrasting colour. There is no real green here. I only see the green incidentally, because the screen as a whole now has a reddish colour.

However, this idea of Goethe's is mistaken, as you may readily convince yourselves. Take a little tube and look through it, so that you only see the shadow; you will still see it green. You no longer see what is around it, you only see the green which is objectively there at the place you look at. You can convince yourself by this experiment that the green really is objective. It remains green, hence the phenomenon cannot be one of mere contrast but is objective. We cannot now provide for everyone to see it, but as the proverb says, durch zweier Zeugen Mund wird alle Wahrheit kund—two witnesses will always tell the truth. I will produce the phenomenon and you must now look through on to the green strip. It stays green, does it not? So with the other colour: if I engendered red by means of green, it would stay red. Goethe in this instance was mistaken, and as the error is incorporated in his Theory of Colour it must of course be rectified.¹

Now to begin with, my dear Friends, along with all the other phenomena which we have studied, I want you to take note of the pure fact we have just demonstrated. In the one case we get a grey, a bit of darkness, a mere shadow. In the other case we permeate the shadow, so to speak, with colour. The light and darkness then work together in a different way. We note that by darkening the light with red the objective phenomenon of the green is called forth. Now side by side with this, I also drew your attention to what appears, as is generally said, “subjectively”. We have then, in the one case, what would be called an “objective” phenomenon, the green that stays there on the screen; though not a permanently fixed colour, it stays as long as we create the requisite conditions. Whilst in the other case we have something, as it were, subjectively conditioned by our eye alone. Goethe calls the green colour that appears to me when I have been exposing my eye for a time to red, the colour or coloured after-image that is evoked or “required” (gefordert),—called forth by reaction.

Now there is one thing we must insist on in this connection. The “subjective, objective” distinction, between the colour that is temporarily fixed here and the colour that seems only to be called forth as an after-image by the eye, has no foundation in any real fact. When I am seeing red through my eyes, as at this moment, you know there is all the physical apparatus we were describing a few days ago; the vitreous body, the lens, the aqueous humour between the lens and the cornea,—a highly differentiated physical apparatus. This physical apparatus, mingling light and darkness as it does in the most varied ways with one another, is in no other relation to the objectively existent ether than all the apparatus we have here set up—the screen, the rod and so on. The only difference is that in the ^one case the whole apparatus is my eye; I see an objective phenomenon through my own eye. It is the same objective phenomenon which I see here, only that this one stays. By dint of looking at the red, my eye will subsequently react with the “required” colour—to use Goethe's term,—the eye, according to its own conditions, being gradually restored to its neutral state. But the real process by means of which I see the green when I see it thus, as we are wont to say, “subjectively”—through the eye alone,—is in no way different from what it is when I fix the colour “objectively” as in this experiment.

Therefore I said in an earlier lecture: You, your subjective being, do not live in such a way that the ether is there vibrating outside of you and the effect of it then finds expression in your experience of colour. No, you yourself are swimming in the ether—you are one with it. It is but an incidental difference, whether you become at one with the ether through this apparatus out here or through a process that goes on in your own eye. There is no real nor essential difference between the green image engendered spatially by the red darkening of the light, and the green afterimage, appearing afterwards only in point of time. Looked at objectively there is no tangible difference, save that the process is spatial in the one case and temporal in the other. That is the one essential difference. A sensible and thoughtful contemplation of these things will lead you no longer to look for the contrast, “subjective and objective” as we generally call it, in the false direction in which modern Science generally tries to see it. You will then see it for what it really is. In the one case we have rigged-up an apparatus to engender colour while our eye stays neutral—neutral as to the way the colours are here produced—and is thus able to enter into and unite with what is here. In the other case the eye itself is the physical apparatus. What difference does it make, whether the necessary apparatus is out there, or in your frontal cavity? We are not outside the things, then first projecting the phenomena we see out into space. We with our being are in the things; moreover we are in them even more fully when we go on from certain kinds of physical phenomena to others. No open-minded person, examining the phenomena of colour in all their aspects, can in the long run fail to admit that we are in them—not, it is true, with our ordinary body, but certainly with our etheric body and thereby also with the astral part of our being.

And now let us descend from Light to Warmth. Warmth too we perceive as a condition of our environment which gains significance for us whenever we are exposed to it. We shall soon see, however, that as between the perception of light and the perception of warmth there is a very significant difference. You can localize the perception of light clearly and accurately in the physical apparatus of the eye, the objective significance of which I have been stressing. But if you ask yourself in all seriousness, “How shall I now compare the relation I am in to light with the relation I am in to warmth?”, you will have to answer, “While my relation to the light is in a way localized—localized by my eye at a particular place in my body,—this is not so for warmth. For warmth the whole of me is, so to speak, the sense-organ. For warmth, the whole of me is what my eye is for the light”. We cannot therefore speak of the perception of warmth in the same localized sense as of the perception of light. Moreover, precisely in realizing this we may also become aware of something more.

What are we really perceiving when we come into relation to the warmth-condition of our surroundings? We must admit, we have a very distinct perception of the fact that we are swimming in the warmth-element of our environment. And yet, what is it of us that is swimming? Please answer for yourselves the question: What is it that is swimming when you are swimming in the warmth of your environment? Take then the following experiment. Fill a bucket with water just warm enough for you to feel it lukewarm. Put both your hands in—not for long, only to test it. Then put your left hand in water as hot as you can bear and your right hand in water as cold as you can bear. Then put both hands quickly back again into the lukewarm water. You will find the lukewarm water seeming very warm to your right hand and very cold to your left. Your left hand, having become hot, perceives as cold what your right hand, having become cold, perceives as warmth. Before, you felt the same lukewarmness on either side. What is it then? It is your own warmth that is swimming there. Your own warmth makes you feel the difference between itself and your environment. What is it therefore, once again,—what is it of you that is swimming in the warmth-element of your environment? It is your own state-of-warmth, brought about by your own organic process. Far from this being an unconscious thing, your consciousness indwells it. Inside your skin you are living in this warmth, and according to the state of this your own warmth you converse—communicate and come to terms—with the element of warmth in your environment, wherein your own bodily warmth is swimming. It is your warmth-organism which really swims in the warmth of your environment.—If you think these things through, you will come nearer the real processes of Nature—far nearer than by what is given you in modern Physics, abstracted as it is from all reality.

Now let us go still farther down. We experience our own state-of-warmth by swimming with it in our environment-of-warmth. When we are warmer than our environment we feel the latter as if it were drawing, sucking at us; when we are colder we feel as though it were imparting something to us. But this grows different again when we consider how we are living in yet another element. Once more then: we have the faculty of living in what really underlies the light; we swim in the element of light. Then, in the way we have been explaining, we swim in the element of warmth. But we are also able to swim in the element of air, which of course we always have within us. We human beings, after all, are to a very small extent solid bodies. More than 90% of us is just a column of water, and—what matters most in this connection—the water in us is a kind of intermediary between the airy and the solid state. Now we can also experience ourselves quite consciously in the airy element, just as we can in the element of warmth. Our consciousness descends effectively into the airy element. Even as it enters into the element of light and into the element of warmth, so too it enters into the element of air. Here again, it can “converse”, it can communicate and come to terms with what is taking place in our environment of air. It is precisely this “conversation” which finds expression in the phenomena of sound or tone. You see from this: we must distinguish between different levels in our consciousness. One level of our consciousness is the one we live with in the element of light, inasmuch as we ourselves partake in this element. Quite another level of our consciousness is the one we live with in the element of warmth, inasmuch as we ourselves, once more, are partaking in it. And yet another level of our consciousness is the one we live with in the element of air, inasmuch as we ourselves partake also in this. Our consciousness is indeed able to dive down into the gaseous or airy element. Then are we living in the airy element of our environment and are thus able to perceive the phenomena of sound and of musical tone. Even as we ourselves with our own consciousness have to partake in the phenomena of light so that we swim in the light-phenomena of our environment; and as we have to partake in the element of warmth so that we swim also in this; so too must we partake in the element of air. We must ourselves have something of the airy element within us in a differentiated form so that we may be able to perceive—when, say, a pipe, a drum or a violin is resounding—the differentiated airy element outside us. In this respect, my dear Friends, our bodily nature is indeed of the greatest interest even to outward appearance. There is our breathing process: we breathe-in the air and breathe it out again. When we breathe-out the air we push our diaphragm upward. This involves a relief of tension, a relaxation, for the whole of our organic system beneath the diaphragm. In that we raise the diaphragm as we breathe-out and thus relieve the organic system beneath the diaphragm, the cerebrospinal fluid in which the brain is swimming is driven downward. Here now the cerebrospinal fluid is none other than a somewhat condensed modification, so to speak, of the air, for it is really the out-breathed air which brings about the process. When I breathe-in again, the cerebrospinal fluid is driven upward. I, through my breathing, am forever living in this rhythmic, downward-and-upward, upward-and-downward undulation of the cerebrospinal fluid, which is quite clearly an image of my whole breathing process. In that my bodily organism partakes in these oscillations of the breathing process, there is an inner differentiation, enabling me to perceive and experience the airy element in consciousness. Indeed by virtue of this process, of which admittedly I have been giving only a rather crude description, I am forever living in a rhythm-of-life which both in origin and in its further course consists in an inner differentiation of the air.

In that you breathe and bring about—not of course so crudely but in a manifold and differentiated way—this upward and downward oscillation of the rhythmic forces, there is produced within you what may itself be described as an organism of vibrations, highly complicated, forever coming into being and passing away again. It is this inner organism of vibrations which in our ear we bring to bear upon what sounds towards us from without when, for example, the string of a musical instrument gives out a note. We make the one impinge upon the other. And just as when you plunge your hand into the lukewarm water you perceive the state-of-warmth of your own hand by the difference between the warmth of your hand and the warmth of the water, so too do you perceive the tone or sound by the impact and interaction of your own inner, wondrously constructed musical instrument with the sound or tone that comes to manifestation in the air outside you. The ear is in a way the bridge, by which your own inner “lyre of Apollo” finds its relation, in ever-balancing and compensating interplay, with the differentiated airy movement that comes to you from without. Such, in reality is hearing. The real process of hearing—hearing of the differentiated sound or tone—is, as you see, very far removed from the abstraction commonly presented. Something, they say, is going on in the space outside, this then affects my ear, and the effect upon my ear is perceived in some way as an effect on my subjective being. For the “subjective being” is at long last referred to—described in some kind of demonology—or rather, not described at all. We shall not get any further if we do not try to think out clearly, what is the underlying notion in this customary presentation. You simply cannot think these notions through to their conclusion, for what this school of Physics never does is to go simply into the given facts.

Thus in effect we have three stages in man's relation to the outer world—I will describe them as the stage of Light, the stage of Warmth, and that of Tone or Sound. There is however a remarkable fact in this connection. Look open-mindedly at your relation to the element of light—your swimming in the element of light—and you will have to admit: It is only with your etheric body that you can live in what is there going on in the outer world. Not so when you are living in the element of warmth. You really live in the warmth-element of your environment with your whole bodily nature. Having thus contemplated how you live in light and warmth, look farther down—think how you live in the element of tone and sound—and you will recognize: Here you yourself are functioning as an airy body. You, as a living organism of air, live in the manifoldly formed and differentiated outer air. It is no longer the ether; it is external physical matter, namely air. Our living in the warmth-element is then a very significant border-line. Our life in the element of warmth is for our consciousness a kind of midway level—a niveau. You recognize it very clearly in the simple fact that for pure feeling and sensation you are scarcely able to distinguish outer warmth from inner warmth. Your life in the light-element however lies above this level:—

For light, you ascend as it were into a higher, into an etheric sphere, therein to live with your consciousness. On the other hand you go beneath this level, beneath this niveau, when in perceiving tone or sound you as a man-of-air converse and come to terms with the surrounding air. While upon this niveau itself (in the perceiving of warmth) you come to terms with the outer world in a comparatively simple way.

Now bring together what I have just been shewing with what I told you before out of Anatomy and Physiology. Then you will have to conceive the eye as the physical apparatus, to begin with. Indeed the farther outward you go, the more physical do you find the eye to be; the farther in you go, the more is it permeated with vitality. We therefore have in us a localized organ—the eye—with which to lift ourselves above a certain level or niveau. Upon this actual niveau we live as it were on equal terms with our environment; with our own warmth we meet the warmth of our environment and perceive the difference, whatever it may be. Here we have no such specialized organ as the eye; the whole of us, we ourselves in some way, become the sense-organ. And we dive down beneath this level or niveau when functioning as airy man,—when we converse and come to terms with the differentiated outer air. Here once again the “conversation” becomes localized—localized namely in this “lyre of Apollo”, in this rhythmic play of our whole organism, of which the rhythmic play of our spinal fluid is but the image and the outcome. Here then again we have something localized—only beneath the niveau this time, whilst in the eye it is above this midway level.

The Psychology of our time is, as you see, in an even sorrier position than the Physiology and Physics, and we can scarcely blame our physicists if they speak so unrealistically of what is there in the outer world, since they get so little help from the psychologists. The latter, truth to tell, have been only too well disciplined by the Churches, which have claimed all the knowledge of the soul and Spirit for their own domain. Very obediently the psychologists restrict their study to the external apparatus, calling this external apparatus “Man”. They speak no doubt of soul and mind, or even Spirit, but in mere words, mere sounding phrases, until Psychology becomes at last a mere collection of words. For in their books they never tell us what we are to understand by soul and mind and Spirit,—how we should conceive them. So then the physicists come to imagine that the light is there at work quite outside us; this light affects the human eye. The eye somehow responds; at any rate it receives an impression. This then becomes subjective inner experience. Now comes the veriest tangle of confused ideas. The physicists allege it to be much the same as to the other sense-organs. They follow what they learn from the psychologists. In text-books of Psychology you will generally find a chapter on the Science of the Senses, as though such a thing as “sense” or “sense-organ” in general existed. But if you put it to the test: study the eye,—it is completely different from the ear. The one indeed lies above and the other beneath the “niveau” which we explained just now. In their whole form and structure, eye and ear prove to be totally diverse organs. This surely is significant and should be borne in mind. Today now we will go thus far; please think it over in the meantime. Taking our start from this, we will tomorrow speak of the science of sound and tone, whence you will then be able to go on into the other realms of Physics.

There is however one more thing I want to demonstrate today. It is among the great achievements of modern Physics; it is in truth a very great achievement. You know that if you merely rub a surface with your finger—exerting pressure, using some force as you do so,—the surface will get warm. By this exertion you have generated warmth. So too by calling forth out-and-out mechanical processes in the objective world external to yourself, you can engender warmth. Now as a basis for tomorrow's lecture, we have rigged up this apparatus. If you were now to look and read the thermometer inside, you would find it a little over 16° C. The vessel contains water. Immersed in the body of water is a kind of drum or flywheel which we now bring into quick rotation, thus doing mechanical work, whirling the portions of the water all about, stirring it thoroughly. After a time we shall look at the thermometer again and you will see that it has risen. By dint of purely mechanical work the water will have gained in warmth. That is to say, warmth is produced by mechanical work. It was especially Julius Robert Mayer who drew attention to this fact, which was then worked out more arithmetically. Mayer himself derived from it the so-called “mechanical equivalent of warmth” (or of heat). Had they gone on in the same spirit in which he began, they would have said no more than that a certain number, a certain figure expresses the relation which can be measured when warmth is produced by dint of mechanical work or vice-versa. But they exploited the discovery in metaphysical fashion. Namely they argued: If then there is this constant ratio between the mechanical work expended and the warmth produced, the warmth or heat is simply the work transformed. Transformed, if you please!—where in reality all that they had before them was the numerical expression of the relation between the two.

• 1. After some careful experiments on a later occasion, Dr. Steiner admitted that there is an error here. (See the Translator's Note on this passage.) He also recommended chemical and photographic researches to show the real nature of coloured shadows.