The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Before we enlarge upon what will emerge from any further elaboration of the significant image of the Twilight of the Gods, it will be well to establish a firm foundation from which to proceed. For we shall deal with the nature of the Germanic and Scandinavian Folk Soul, and from the results of our investigation describe it in greater detail. We shall discover how the whole spiritual life of Europe works in concert, how the activity of the various Folk Spirits has furthered the development of mankind in the remote past, in the present and will continue to do so in the future. Every single people, even isolated fragments of peoples, have their special contribution to make to this great collective task. You will realize from what has been said that, in certain respects, the task, the mission of educating the ‘I’ through the evolutionary stages of the human being, of shaping it and of gradually developing it, devolved upon the Christian and post Christian cultures of Europe in particular. In primitive times, as we have shown in the case of the Scandinavian and Germanic peoples, the ‘I’ was revealed clairvoyantly to man. According to tradition this ‘I’ was bestowed upon man by an Angelic Being, Donar or Thor, who stands midway between man and the Folk Soul. We have seen that the individual still felt himself to be ego-less, devoid of personality; he looked upon the ‘I’ as a gift from the spiritual world.

In the East, when the ‘I’ really awoke, it was not of course experienced in the same way. There man had already reached subjectively such a high degree of perfection that he did not feel the ‘I’ as something extraneous, but as his own property. At the time when man became ego-conscious in the East, Eastern culture was already so far advanced that it was capable of gradually developing that finely-spun speculation, logic and wisdom which is reflected in Eastern wisdom. The East, therefore, no longer experienced the whole process of receiving the ego as if it were bestowed by a higher spiritual world through the instrumentality of a divine-spiritual Being such as Thor. That was the experience of Europe; hence the European felt this gradual unfolding of the individual ‘I’ as the emergence out of the Group Soul. The Germanic-Scandinavian man still felt himself attached to a Group Soul, to be a member of a closely-knit unit or family, that he belonged to an integrated community. For this reason, nearly a hundred years after Christ, Tacitus could describe the Teutons of Central Europe as apparently belonging to separate tribes and yet as members of an organism, and belonging to the unity of the organism. Thus each individual still felt himself at that time to be a member of the tribal ‘I’. He felt his individual ‘I’ gradually emerging from the tribal ‘I’ and be recognized in the God Thor the bestower of the ‘I’, the God who really endowed him with his individual ‘I’. But at the same time he felt that this God was still united with the collective spirit of the tribe with that which lives in the Group Soul. To this Group Soul was given the name “Sif “. This is the name of the spouse of Thor. Sif is related linguistically to the word Sippe, kinship, although the relationship is veiled or concealed. Occultly, however, Sif signifies the Group Soul of the individual community from which the individual emerges. Sif is the Being who unites herself with the God of the individual ‘I’, with Thor, the bestower of the individual ‘I’. The individual perceives Sif and Thor as the Beings who endowed him with his ‘I’. It was in this way that Nordic man experienced them at a time when the peoples in other regions of Europe had already been given other tasks in preparing man's ego-development.

Each individual people had its appointed task; chief amongst them was that homogeneous group of peoples, that widely distributed folk community whom we know by the name of Celts. It was the responsibility of the ancient Celtic Folk Spirit, who, as we know from earlier lectures, was later given quite different tasks, to educate the still youthful ‘I’ of the peoples of Europe. To this end it was necessary that the Celts themselves should receive an education and instruction which was mediated directly from the higher world. Hence it was entirely appropriate that through their Initiates, the Druid priests, the Celts should transmit to other nations instruction received from higher worlds and which they could not have acquired of themselves.

The whole of European culture is a legacy of the European Mysteries. The progressive Folk Souls are always the leaders of the collective culture of mankind as it unfolds. But at the time when these European Folk Spirits enjoined upon men to act more on their own initiative it was necessary that the Mysteries should gradually withdraw. Hence with the withdrawal of the Celtic element there followed a gradual withdrawal of the Mysteries into more secret places. At the time of the ancient Celts the Mysteries established a much more direct relationship between the spiritual Beings and the people, because the ‘I’ was still attached to the group-soul-life and yet the Celtic element was to bring the gift of the ‘I’ to the other Germanic tribes. Thus in the period preceding the evolution proper of the Northern and Germanic peoples, the Mystery teachings could be given to European civilization only by the ancient Celtic Mysteries. These Mystery teachings allowed just so much to be revealed as was necessary in order to establish a basis for the whole culture of Europe. Now the most diverse Folk Souls and Folk Spirits were able to draw nourishment from this old culture by mingling with the widely diverse racial fragments, national communities and folk elements, and they brought the ‘I’ into ever new situations in order to nurture it, the ‘I’ which was struggling to free itself from its attachment to the group-soul.

After the old Greek culture had to a certain extent reached its high point in the fulfillment of its special mission, we see a totally different aspect of this same mission in the spirit of ancient Rome and its various stages of culture. We have already mentioned that the several post-Atlantean civilizations follow upon one another in strict sequence. If we wish to have an overall picture of the successive stages of post-Atlantean civilization we may summarize them as follows: the old Indian culture worked upon the human etheric body. Hence the remarkable wisdom and clairvoyant insight of the ancient Indian culture, because—after the development of special human capacities—it was a culture reflected in the human etheric body. We may envisage the ancient Indian Culture somewhat as follows:

[IMAGE REMOVED FROM PREVIEW]

Between the Atlantean epoch and the later post-Atlantean epoch the Indian Folk Spirit developed to the full his inner soul-forces without developing ego-consciousness. He then returned to his activity in the etheric body. The essential element in the ancient Indian culture is that the ancient Indian was able to return again to the etheric body with his highly developed, highly refined faculties of soul and within that body he developed those marvelously delicate forces the later reflection of which we can still see in the Vedas, and in a still more refined form in the Vedanta philosophy. This was only possible because the Indian Folk Soul had achieved a high degree of development before it was conscious of the ‘I’, and this again at a time when man could perceive by means of the forces of the etheric body.

The Persian Folk Soul had not developed so far; its organ of perception was limited to the sentient body or astral body. The Egypto-Babylonian-Chaldean culture was again different. Here the organ of perception was the Sentient Soul; and the characteristic of the Egypto-Chaldean culture was the ability to work in the Sentient Soul. The Graeco-Latin Folk Spirit was related to the Intellectual or Mind-Soul in which he was active. He himself was only able to work upon this Intellectual Soul because the Intellectual Soul, in its turn, had a kind of psychic counterpart in the etheric body. But the form of cosmogony that now emerged in Greece was, to some extent, less real, less clear-cut; it had less the stamp of reality. Whilst the form of cognition in the ancient Indian culture was directly related to the activity of the etheric body, the Greek culture presented a blurred, pale, lifeless image of reality; as I have already said, it was like the memory of what these people had once experienced, like a memory reflected in their etheric body.

In the other peoples who followed the Greeks we are chiefly concerned with the use of the physical body for the progressive development of the Spiritual Soul (or Consciousness-Soul). Hence the Greek culture was a culture that we can only understand from within, if we realize that in this culture what is important in external experience is that which springs from the inner life of the Greeks. On the other hand, the peoples living more towards the West and the North had, under the guidance of their Folk Souls, to turn increasingly towards the external world, towards the phenomena of the physical plane, and to develop whatsoever has a part to play on that plane. This was the special task of the Northern and Germanic peoples which they alone could fulfil, because they still enjoyed the gift, the supremely important gift of the old clairvoyance which enabled them to see into the spiritual world and to incorporate the primeval spiritual experiences which were still vital in their souls into that which was to be established upon the physical plane.

There was one people who, at its later stage, no longer possessed this gift, who had not undergone such preliminary evolution and who had incarnated suddenly on the physical plane before the birth of the human ‘I’ and was only able therefore to attend to whatsoever furthered the development of this ‘I’ on the physical plane, to whatsoever was necessary for its well-being there under the guidance of its Folk Soul, its Archangel. This was the Roman people. Everything that the Roman people had to accomplish for the collective mission of Europe under the guidance of its Folk Spirit was directed to winning recognition for the ‘I’ of man. Hence the Roman people was able to develop human and social relationships. They were the founders of civil law and jurisprudence which are built up purely on the ‘I’. The relation of human ‘I’ to human ‘I’ was the great question in the mission of the Roman people. The Western peoples whose civilizations grew out of the Roman civilization already possessed more of that which, coming from the Sentient Soul, Intellectual or Mind-Soul and from the Spiritual or Consciousness-Soul itself, fructifies the ‘I’ in some way and projects it outward into the world. Therefore all the mingling of races which external history records and which is found in the Italian and Iberian peninsulas, in France and Great Britain today, was necessary in order to develop the ‘I’ on the physical plane in accordance with the different nuances of the Sentient Soul, the Intellectual Soul and the Spiritual Soul. Such was the great mission of those peoples who gradually developed in the most diverse ways in Western Europe.

All the individual shades of culture, all the particular missions of the peoples of Western Europe can finally be explained by the fact that in the area of the Italian and Iberian peninsulas was to be developed that which could be formed in the ‘I’ through the impulses of the Sentient Soul. If you study the individual folk characters in their positive and negative aspects you will find that the peoples of the Italian and Iberian peninsulas reflect a peculiar fusion of the ‘I’ with the Sentient Soul. You will be able to understand, however, the peculiar characteristics of those peoples who, until recent times, lived on the soil of France, if you study the growth and fusion of the Intellectual Soul with the ‘I’. The great worldwide achievements of a country such as Great Britain can be attributed to the fact that the impulse of the Spiritual Soul has penetrated into the human ‘I’. With the world mission of the British Empire is also associated parliamentary forms of government and the founding of constitutional rights. The union of the Spiritual Soul with the human ego had not yet been realized inwardly. If you recognize how this union between the Spiritual Soul and the ‘I’ that was oriented outwards originated, you will find that the great historical conquests of the inhabitants of that island proceed from this impulse. You will also find that the establishment of parliamentary forms of government at once becomes comprehensible if one realizes that, in consequence of this, an impulse of the Spiritual Soul was to find expression on the plane of world-history.

Thus cultural diversities were a necessity, for the individual peoples had to be guided through the many stages of ego development. If we had sufficient time to enlarge upon these matters we could find examples from history which show the ramifications of these basic forces and how they manifest in the most diverse ways. Thus the peculiar constitution of soul influenced the Western peoples who had not preserved the direct, original memory of the old clairvoyant insight into the spiritual world of former times. In the Germanic and Northern regions in later times, that which proceeded directly from a gradual, continuous evolution of the original clairvoyance with which the Sentient Soul had already been imbued, had to develop in a wholly different way. This accounts for that characteristic trait of inwardness which is only the after-effect of a clairvoyant insight experienced in a former age. The task of the Southern Germanic peoples lay primarily in the domain of the Spiritual Soul. The Graeco-Latin age had to develop the Intellectual Soul (or Mind-Soul). But not only this; it had also to include a wonderful development still working in from prehistoric times and imbued with clairvoyant insight. All this was then poured into the Spiritual Soul of the Central European and Scandinavian peoples and its after-effects lived on as an inner disposition of soul. It was the task of the Southern Germanic peoples to develop first of all what pertains to the inward preparation of the Spiritual Soul, imbuing it with spiritual substance of the old clairvoyance, transposed now on to the physical plane.

The philosophies of Central Europe represented by Fichte, Schelling and Hegel in the nineteenth century seem far removed from the sphere of mythology. Nevertheless they are simply the products of the highest sublimation of the old clairvoyant insight, of the cooperation of the divine-spiritual Beings within the heart of man. Otherwise it would not have been possible for a Hegel to have looked upon his ideas as realities; it would have been impossible for him to make the strange remark, so characteristic of the man, when, in answer to the question, “What is the abstract?” he replied: “The abstract is for instance an individual who fulfils his daily duties—the carpenter, for example.” What is concrete to the purely abstract theorist was therefore abstract to Hegel. What to the purely abstract theorist are mere thoughts, were to him great, mighty architects of the world. Hegel's philosophy is the final, the most highly sublimated expression of the Spiritual Soul and embodies in the form of pure concepts that which Nordic man still saw as sensible-super-sensible, divine spiritual powers associated with the ‘I’. The ‘I’ of Fichte's philosophy was simply the precipitation of what the God Thor had given to the human soul, only viewed from the standpoint of the Spiritual Soul and clothed seemingly in the barest of thoughts, the thought of “I am”, which is the starting-point of Fichte's philosophy. From the gift of the ‘I’ by the God Thor or Donar to the ancient Nordic peoples from the spiritual world, down to this philosophy, evolution follows a straight line. Thor had to prepare this development for the Spiritual Soul in order that this Soul might have the content appropriate for its task which is to turn towards the external world and to work within that world. But this philosophy is aware not only of the external world of crude empiric experience, but finds in the external world the content of the Spiritual Soul itself and regards nature simply as the idea in its other aspect. The mission of the Nordic Germanic peoples in Central Europe is to ensure that this impulse lives on.

Now since all evolution is a continuous process we must ask ourselves what form it takes. When we look back into ancient times we observe a remarkable phenomenon. We have already said that the first manifestations of ancient Indian culture were expressed through the etheric body after the spiritual forces of soul had been adequately developed. There are however other civilizations which have also preserved the old Atlantean culture and carried it over into the post-Atlantean epoch. Whilst, on the one hand, the ancient Indian was able to return to the etheric body with highly developed faculties of soul and out of the forces of this body created his great civilization and lofty spiritual life, we have, on the other hand, a culture which originated in Atlantis and continued to work on in the post-Atlantean epoch, a culture which owes its origin and development to its emphasis upon the other aspect of the consciousness of the etheric body. This is the Chinese culture. If you bear this connection in mind and remember that the Atlantean culture was directly related to what in our earlier lectures we called the “Great Spirit”; you will understand the peculiarities of Chinese culture. This culture was directly connected with the highest stages of world-evolution. But it still works into the bodies of men today and from an entirely different angle. It seems very likely, therefore, that these two civilizations, the two great polarities of the post-Atlantean epoch, will clash at some future time—the Indian which, within certain limits, is capable of development, and the Chinese that isolates itself and remains static, repeating what existed in the old Atlantean epoch. One literally receives an occult, scientific, poetic impression if one follows the evolution of the Chinese Empire, if one thinks of the Great Wall of China which sought to exclude completely everything which originated in primeval times and had been developed in the post-Atlantean epoch. Something like an occult, poetic feeling steals over one if one compares the Wall of China with what had once existed in former times. I can give only the barest indications about these matters. If you compare them with the existing findings of science you will find how extraordinary illuminating they are. Let us consider clairvoyantly the old continent of Atlantis which will be found where the Atlantic Ocean now lies, between Africa and Europe on the one side and America on the other. This continent was encircled by a warm stream which, strange as it may seem, was seen clairvoyantly to flow from the South through Baffin Bay towards the North of Greenland, encircling it. Then, turning eastward, it gradually cooled down. Long before the continents of Russia and Siberia had emerged, it flowed past the Ural mountains, changed course, skirted the Eastern Carpathians, debauched into the region now occupied by the Sahara and finally reached the Atlantic Ocean in the neighbourhood of the Bay of Biscay. Thus it followed a strictly delimited course. Only the last remaining traces of this stream are still extant. This stream is the Gulf Stream which at that time encircled the Atlantean continent. Now you will recall that in their psychic life the Greeks experienced a memory of the spiritual worlds. The picture of Oceanus which is a memory of that Atlantean epoch arose within them. Their picture of the world, their cosmogony, was very near the truth because it was derived from the old Atlantean epoch. The stream that flowed southward via Spitzbergen as a warm current and gradually cooled, etc. followed a strictly delimited course. This circumscribed course was unmistakably echoed in the Chinese culture, a culture circumscribed by the Great Wall and which had been brought over from Atlantis. The Atlantean civilization had as yet no history; hence the Chinese civilization also has preserved an element of the unhistorical. It preserves something of the pre Indian culture, something surviving from old Atlantis.

Let us now describe the further progress of the Germanic and Nordic Folk Spirit. What consequences will ensue when a Folk Spirit so directs his people that the Spirit Self in particular can develop? Let us remember that the etheric body was developed in the ancient Indian epoch, the sentient body in the Persian, the Sentient Soul in the Egypto-Chaldean, the Intellectual Soul (or Mind-Soul) in the Graeco-Latin, the Spiritual Soul (or Consciousness-Soul) in our present epoch which is not yet concluded. The next epoch will see the invasion of the Spiritual Soul by the Spirit Self, so that the Spirit Self shall irradiate the Spiritual Soul. This is the task of the sixth post-Atlantean civilization and must be prepared for gradually. This civilization which must be preeminently a receptive one, for it must reverently await the influx of the Spirit Self into the Spiritual Soul, is being prepared by the peoples of Western Asia and their outposts in Eastern Europe, the Slavonic peoples. The latter with their Folk Souls were the outposts of the coming sixth post-Atlantean epoch for the very good reason that future contingencies must to a certain extent be prepared beforehand, must already be anticipated in order to prepare the ground for future development. It is extremely interesting to study these outposts of a Folk Soul who is preparing himself for future epochs. This accounts for the peculiar character of the Slavonic peoples who are our immediate Eastern neighbours. In the eyes of the Western European their whole culture gives the impression of being in a preparatory stage and in a curious way, through the medium of their outposts, they present that which in spirit is wholly different from any other mythology. We should give a false impression of these Eastern outposts as a future’ civilization if we were to compare them with the culture of the Western European peoples who enjoy a continuous, unbroken tradition which is still rooted in, and has its source in the old clairvoyance. The peculiarity attaching to the souls of these Eastern European peoples is reflected in the whole attitude they have always shown when the question of their relations to the higher worlds arose. In comparison with our ‘mythology’ in Western Europe with its individual deities, their (i.e. the Slavonic peoples) relation to the higher worlds is totally different. What this Slavonic ‘mythology’ presents to us as the direct outpouring of the inner being of the people may be compared to the anthroposophical conception of successive planes or worlds through which we prepare ourselves to understand a higher spiritual culture. We find in the East, for example, the following conception: the West has been moulded by the influence of successive and related cultures. In the East we find, in the first place, a distinct consciousness of a world of the Cosmic Father. Everything that is creatively active in air and fire, in all the elements in and above the Earth, is embodied in the concept of the Heavenly Father, in one seemingly great, all-embracing idea which is at the same time an all-embracing feeling. Just as we think of the Devachanic world as fructifying our Earth, so this Divine world, the world of the Father, draws nigh from the East, fructifying that which is experienced as the Mother, the Spirit of the Earth. We have no other expression and can think of no other way of picturing the whole Spirit of the Earth than in the fertilization of Mother Earth. Instead of individual deities we have then two contrasting worlds. And confronting these two worlds as a third world is that which we feel to be the Blessed Child of these two worlds. This Blessed Child is not an individual being, not an emotional feeling, but something that is the creation of the Heavenly Father and the Earth Mother. The relation of Devachan to the Earth is perceived in this way from the spiritual world. The birth of new life, the coming of springtime, and that which grows and multiplies in the material body is felt as something wholly spiritual; and that which grows and multiplies in the soul is perceived as the world which at the same time is felt to be the Blessed Child of the Heavenly Father and the Earth Mother. Universal as these conceptions are, we find them among the outposts of the Slavonic peoples who have advanced westwards. In no Western European mythology is this conception so universal. In the West we find clearly defined deities; but they are not the same as those which we depict in our spiritual cosmogony; these are more nearly represented by the Heavenly Father, the Earth Mother and the Blessed Child of the East. In the conception of the Blessed Child there is again a world which permeates another world. It is a world that is envisaged as a separate world because it is associated with the physical sun and its light. The Slavonic element also recognizes this Being—though different, of course, in conception and feeling—which we have so often met with in Persian mythology; it recognizes the Sun Being who sheds his blessings upon the other three worlds, so that the destiny of man is woven into creation, into the Earth, through the fertilization of the Earth Mother by the Heavenly Father and through that which the Sun Spirit weaves into both these worlds. A fifth world is that which embraces everything spiritual. The Eastern European feels the spiritual world underlying all the forces of nature and all animate beings. We must think of this as a wholly different sentient response, as associated more perhaps with the phenomena, creations and beings of nature.

We must think of this Slavonic soul as being able to see entities in natural phenomena, to see not only the physical and sensory aspects, but also the astral and spiritual. Hence the Slavonic soul conceived of a vast number of Beings in this strange spiritual world which we can at best compare with the world of the Elves of Light. The spiritual world which is looked upon in Spiritual Science as the fifth world is approximately the world which dawns in the hearts and minds of the peoples of Eastern Europe. Whatever name we attach to it is of no importance; what is of importance are the subtle shades and gradations of feelings of the Slavonic peoples and that the concepts which characterize this fifth plane or spiritual world are to be found in Eastern Europe. In this frame of mind this world of Eastern Europe was preparing for that Spirit which is to pour the Spirit Self into man in anticipation of the epoch when the Spiritual Soul shall be uplifted to receive the Spirit Self in the sixth post Atlantean age which is to succeed our own. We meet with this in a unique manner not only in the creations of the Folk Souls who are as I have just described them, but we find it remarkably anticipated in the diverse manifestations of Eastern Europe and its culture.

It is most interesting to observe bow the Eastern European expresses his natural receptivity to pure Spirit by assimilating Western European culture with great devotion, thus looking forward prophetically to the time when he will be able to unite something even greater with his being. Hence also his limited interest in isolated aspects of this Western European culture. He absorbs what is offered him more in broad outlines, ignoring the details, because he is preparing himself to assimilate that which is to enter mankind as the Spirit Self. It is particularly interesting to see how, under this influence, it has been possible for Eastern Europe to develop a much more advanced conception of the Christ than Western Europe, except in those areas of the West where the conception of the Christ has been introduced by Spiritual Science. Amongst those who do not accept the teachings of Spiritual Science the most advanced conception of Christ is that of the Russian philosopher, Solovieff. His conception of Christ is such that it can only be understood by students of Spiritual Science because he lifts it to ever higher planes and reveals its infinite potentialities, showing that our understanding of Christ today is only a beginning, because the Christ Impulse has only been able to reveal to mankind a fraction of what it holds in store. But if we look at the conception of Christ as presented by Hegel, for example, we find that Hegel understood Him as only the most refined, the most sublimated Spiritual Soul could understand Him. But Solovieff's conception of Christ is very different. He fully recognizes the dual nature of this conception. He rejects the endless theological polemics which in reality rest upon deep misunderstandings, because ordinary conceptions are inadequate for an understanding of the dual nature of Christ, and because they fail to develop in us any realization that the two aspects, the Human and the Divine, must be clearly distinguished. The concept of Christ rests upon a clear realization of what took place when the Christ Spirit entered into the man Jesus of Nazareth who had already developed all the necessary attributes. We must first of all understand the two natures of Christ and the union of both at a higher stage. As long as we have not grasped this duality, we have not understood the Christ in all His fullness. Only that philosophical understanding can achieve this which foresees that man himself will participate in a culture in which his Spiritual Soul will be able to receive the Spirit Self, so that in the sixth epoch of civilization man will feel himself to be a duality in whom the higher nature will curb the lower.

Solovieff carries this duality into his conception of Christ and emphasizes that this conception can be meaningful only if one accepts the existence of a divine and human nature which can only be understood if one recognizes that their cooperation is a reality, that they form not an abstract, but an organic unity. Solovieff already recognizes that we must think of this Being as possessing two centres of will. If you accept the teachings of Spiritual Science concerning the true significance of the Christ Being in their original form which stemmed, not from an imaginary, but from a spiritually real Indian influence, you will then have to think of Christ as having developed in His three bodies the capacities of feeling, thinking and willing. It is a human feeling, thinking and willing into which the Divine feeling, thinking and willing descends. The European man will only assimilate this completely when he has risen to the sixth stage of civilization. This had been prophetically expressed in Solovieff's anticipatory conception of Christ which announces the dawn of a later civilization. This philosophy of Eastern Europe therefore reaches far beyond that of Hegel and Kant, and in the presence of this philosophy one suddenly senses the first stirrings of a later development. It is far in advance because this conception of Christ is felt to be a prophetic anticipation, the dawn of the sixth post-Atlantean civilization. Consequently the whole Christ Being, the whole significance of Christ occupies a central place in philosophy and thus becomes totally different from the Western European conceptions of it. The conception of Christ, in so far as it has been developed outside Spiritual Science and is conceived as a living substance, as a living spiritual entity which shall permeate all social life and social institutions—which is felt as a Personality in whose service man finds himself as ‘man endowed with Spirit Self’—this Christ-Personality is portrayed in a wonderfully concrete manner in Solovieff's various expositions of St. John's Gospel and its opening words. Only if we stand upon the ground of Spiritual Science can we comprehend Solovieff's profound interpretation of the sentence, “In the Beginning was the Word or Logos”, and how differently St. John's Gospel is understood by a philosophy which in a remarkable way anticipates the future.

If, on the one hand, Hegel's philosophy marks a high point, something that is born out of the Spiritual Soul as the highest philosophical achievement, this philosophy of Solovieff, on the other hand, provides the seed in the Spiritual Soul for the philosophy of the Spirit Self which will be incorporated in the sixth cultural epoch. There is perhaps no greater contrast than that eminently Christian conception of the State which hovers as a great ideal before Solovieff as a dream of the future, that Christian conception of the social State which takes everything implicit in that conception in order to present it as an offering to the in-streaming Spirit Self, in order to hold it up as an ideal of the future to be Christianized by the powers of the future—there is indeed no greater contrast than this idea of Solovieff's of a Christian community in which the Christ conception lies wholly in the future and the Divine State of St. Augustine who accepts, it is true, the Christ idea, but whose Divine State is simply the Roman State with Christ incorporated in the Roman idea of the State. What provides the knowledge for the emergent Christianity of the future is the decisive question. In Solovieff's State Christ is the blood which circulates in the body social, and the essential point is that the State is envisaged as a concrete personality so that it will act as a living spiritual entity, but at the same time will fulfil its mission with all the idiosyncrasies of a personality. No other philosophy is so deeply permeated by the Christ idea—the Christ idea which is anticipated in Spiritual Science at a higher level—and yet at the same time has remained so long in the germinal stage. Everything that we find in the East, from the make-up of the people to its philosophy, appears to us as something which contains only the germinal beginning of a future evolution and which, therefore, had also to submit to the special education of the Time Spirit of ancient Greece, the guiding Spirit of exoteric Christianity who was entrusted with the mission of becoming later on the Time Spirit for Europe. The make-up of this people whose task will be to develop the seed of the sixth culture-epoch had from the very beginning to be not only educated, but nursed and nurtured by that Time Spirit. And so we can literally say—and here Father concept and Mother concept lose their dual aspect—that the make-up of the Russian people which is destined to evolve gradually into the Folk Soul, was not only educated, but was nursed and nurtured by that which as we have seen, had been developed out of the old Greek Time Spirit and had then assumed externally another rank.

Thus the various missions are distributed between Western, Central, Northern and Eastern Europe. I wished to give you an indication of these various missions. On the basis of these indications I propose to add further observations and show what the Europe of the future will be like, a future that will ensure that we must form our ideals on the basis of such knowledge. I propose to show how, through this influence, the Germanic and Nordic Folk Spirit is gradually transformed into a Time Spirit.

In beginning this our last lecture I can assure you that much still remains to be discussed and that in this course of lectures we have touched only the fringe of this subject which covers a wide field. I can only hope that it will not be the last time that we shall speak together here on kindred subjects, and it must suffice if I have introduced this subject with only the briefest indications, since detailed discussion at this present moment would otherwise create further complications.

Like a golden thread running through the last few lectures was the idea that Teutonic mythology contains something which, in imaginative form, is connected in a remarkable way with the knowledge derived from the spiritual research of our time. Now this is also one of the reasons why we may hope that the Folk Spirit, the Archangel, who directs and guides this country (Norway) will imbue modern philosophy and modern spiritual research with the capacities he has developed over the centuries and that henceforth modern spiritual research will be fertilized by uniting with the life-forces of the entire people.

The further we penetrate into the details of Teutonic mythology, the more we shall realize—and this applies to no other mythology—how wonderfully the deepest occult truths are expressed in the symbols of this mythology. Perhaps some of you who have read my Occult Science—an Outline or have heard other lectures which I was able to give here will recall that once upon a time in the course of Earth-evolution an event occurred which we may describe as the descent of those human souls who, in primeval times before the old Lemurian epoch, for very special reasons rose to other planets, to Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Venus and Mercury, and that these souls in the late Lemurian epoch and throughout the Atlantean epoch, after the hardening forces of the Moon had left the Earth endeavoured to incarnate in human bodies whose capacities had gradually been developed and perfected under Earth conditions. These Saturn-, Jupiter-, Mars-, Venus-, and Mercury-souls then descended upon Earth and this descent can still be verified today in the Akashic Records. During the Atlantean epoch the air of Atlantis was permeated with watery mists and through these mists those on Earth beheld with the old Atlantean clairvoyance the descent of these souls out of the Cosmos. Whenever new beings descended from spiritual heights into the still soft, plastic and pliant bodies of that time, this was understood to be the external manifestation of souls descending out of the Cosmos, out of the atmosphere, out of planetary spheres, in order to incarnate in earthly bodies.

These earthly bodies were fructified by that which poured down from spiritual heights. The memory of this event has survived in the imaginative conceptions of Teutonic mythology and has persisted so long that it was still extant amongst the Southern Germanic peoples at the time when Tacitus wrote his “Germania”. No one will understand the account Tacitus gives of the Goddess Nerthus unless he realizes that this event actually took place.¹ He relates that the chariot of the Goddess Nerthus was driven over the waters. Later on this survived as a solemn ritual; formerly it had been a matter of actual vision. This Goddess offered the human bodies that were suitable to the human souls descending from the planetary spheres. That is the mystery underlying the Nerthus myth and it has survived in all that has come down to us in the older sagas and legends which give intimations of the birth of physical man. Njordr who is intimately related to the Goddess Nerthus is her masculine counterpart. He is said to represent the primeval memory of the descent of the psycho-spiritual beings who in olden time had risen to planetary heights and who, during the Atlantean epoch, had come back and incarnated in human bodies.

In my pamphlet, The Occult Significance of Blood, you can read how miscegenation and contact between different peoples have played a significant role at certain periods. Now not only the mixture of peoples and their interrelationships which led to the introduction of foreign blood, but also the psychic and spiritual development of the Folk Spirits have played a decisive part. The vision of that descent has been preserved in the greatest purity in those sagas which arose in former times in these Northern regions. Hence in the Sagas of the Vanir you can still find one of the oldest recollections of this descent. Especially here in the North, the Finnish tradition still preserves a living memory of this union of the soul-and-spirit which descended from planetary spheres with that which springs out of the body of the Earth and which Northern tradition knows as Riesenheim (Home of the Giants). That which developed out of the body of the Earth belongs to Riesenheim. We realize, therefore, that Nordic man was always aware of spiritual impulses, that he felt within his gradually evolving soul the workings of this old vision of the Gods which was still natural to man here when, in those ancient times, the watery mists of Atlantis still covered the region. Nordic man felt within him some spark of a God who was directly descended from those divine-spiritual Beings, those Archangels who directed the union of soul-and-spirit with the terrestrial and physical. People believed and felt that the God Freyr and his sister Freyja who were once upon a time specially favoured Gods of the North, had originally been those angelic Beings who had poured into the human soul all that this soul required in order to develop further upon the physical plane those old forces which they (the people) had received through their clairvoyant capacities. Within the physical world, the world limited to the external senses, Freyr was the continuer of all that had hitherto been received in a clairvoyant form. He was the living continuation of forces clairvoyantly received. He had therefore to unite with the physical-corporeal instruments existing in the human body itself for the use of these soul-forces, which then transmit to the physical plane what had been perceived in primeval clairvoyance. This is reflected in the marriage of Freyr with Gerda, the Giant's daughter. She is born out of the physical forces of earthly evolution itself. The descent of the divinespiritual into the physical is still mirrored in these mythological symbols. The figure of Freyr portrays in a remarkable way how Freyr makes use of that which enables man to manifest on the physical plane that for which he has been prepared through his earlier clairvoyance. The name of his horse is Bluthuf, indicating that the blood is an essential factor in the development of the ‘I’. A remarkable magic ship is placed at his disposal. It could span the sky or be folded up to fit into a tiny box. What is this magic ship? If Freyr is the power which transmits clairvoyant forces to the physical plane, then this magic ship is something peculiarly his own: it symbolizes the alternation of the soul in day and night. just as the human soul during sleep and until the moment of waking spreads out over the Macrocosm, so too the magic ship spreads its sails and is then folded up again into the cerebral folds to be stowed away in that tiny box—the human skull. You will find all this portrayed in a wonderful way in the mythological figures of Teutonic mythology.

Those of you who probe more deeply into these matters will be gradually convinced that what has been implanted, ‘injected’ into the mind and soul of this Northern people by means of these symbols or pictures is no flight of fancy, but actually stems from the Mystery Schools. Thus in the guiding Archangel or Folk Spirit of the North, much of the old education through clairvoyant perception has survived, much of that which may unfold in a soul which, in the course of its development on the physical plane, is associated with clairvoyant development.

Although not apparent from the external point of view today, the Archangel of the Germanic North had within him this tendency, and thanks to this tendency he is particularly fitted to understand modern Spiritual Science and to transform it in the appropriate manner to satisfy the inherent potentialities of the people. You will therefore appreciate why I have said that the soul of the Germanic peoples in particular is best fitted to understand what I could only indicate briefly in the public lecture which I gave here on the Second Coming of Christ.

Spiritual research today shows us that after Kali Yuga has run its course (which lasted for 5,000 years, approximately from 3,100 BC to AD 1,899) new capacities will appear in the isolated few who are specially fitted to receive them. A time will come when individuals will be able, through the natural development of the new clairvoyance, to perceive something of what is announced only by Spiritual Science or spiritual research. We are told that in the course of the next centuries, increasing numbers of people will be found in whom the organs of the etheric body are so far developed that they will attain to clairvoyance, which today can only be acquired through training. How are we to account for this? What will be the nature of the, etheric body in those few who develop clairvoyance? There will be some who will receive clairvoyant impressions, and I should like to describe to you a typical example. A man performs some act and at the same time feels himself impelled to observe something. A sort of dream vision arises in him which at first he does not understand. But if he has heard of Karma, of how world-events conform to law, he will then realize, little by little, that what he has seen is the karmic counterpart of his present deeds made visible in the etheric world. Thus the first elements of future capacities are gradually developed.

Those who are open to the stimulus of Spiritual Science will, from the middle of the twentieth century on, gradually experience a renewal of that which St. Paul saw in etheric clairvoyance as a mystery to come, the ‘Mystery of the Living Christ’. There will be a new manifestation of Christ, a manifestation which must come when human capacities develop naturally to the point when the Christ can be seen in the world in which He has always been present since the Mystery of Golgotha and in which He can also be experienced by the Initiate. Mankind is gradually growing into that world in order to be able to perceive from the physical plane that which formerly could be perceived only in the Mystery Schools from the perspective of the higher planes.

Nevertheless, occult training is still a necessity. It always presents things in a different light to those who have not undergone occult training. But occult training will, by the transformation of the physical body, show the Mystery of the Living Christ in a new way—as it will be able to be seen etherically from the perspective of the physical plane by a few isolated individuals at first, and later by increasing numbers of people in the course of the next three thousand years. The Living Christ perceived by St. Paul, the Christ who is to be found in the etheric world since the Mystery of Golgotha, will be seen by an ever-increasing number of people.

The manifestations of the Christ will be experienced by man at ever-higher levels. That is the mystery of the evolution of Christ. At the time of the Mystery of Golgotha it was intended that man should comprehend everything from the perspective of the physical plane. It was therefore necessary that he should be able to see Christ on the physical plane, to receive tidings of Him and to bear witness to His dominion on that plane. But mankind is designed to progress and to develop higher powers. He who believes that the manifestation of Christ will be repeated in the form which was valid nineteen hundred years ago can have little understanding of the development of mankind. The manifestation of Christ took place on the physical plane because, at that time, the forces of man were adapted to the physical plane. But those forces will evolve, and in the course of the next three thousand years Christ will be increasingly understood by the more highly developed souls on Earth.

What I have just said is a truth which has long been communicated to a select few from within the esoteric schools and it is a truth that today must pervade the teachings of Spiritual Science in particular, because Spiritual Science is intended to be a preparation for that which is to come. Mankind is now ready for freedom and self-knowledge and it is highly probable that those who proclaim themselves to be the pioneers of the Christ-vision will be denounced as fools on account of their message to mankind. It is possible for mankind to sink still deeper into materialism and to spurn that which could become a most valuable revelation for mankind. Everything that may happen in the future is to a certain extent subject to man's volition; consequently he may miss what is intended for his salvation. It is extremely important to realize that Spiritual Science is a preparation for the new Christ-revelation.

Materialism holds a twofold danger. The one which probably stems from the traditions of the West, is that everything that the first pioneers of the new Christ-revelation will announce in the twentieth century from out of their own vision will be dismissed as a figment of the imagination, as the height of folly. Today materialism has invaded all spheres. It is not only ingrained in the West, but has also invaded the East. There, however, it assumes another form. One consequence of oriental materialism might well be that mankind will fail to recognize the higher aspects of the Christ-revelation. And then will follow what I have often spoken of here, and which I must repeat again and again, namely, that materialistic thinking will have a purely materialistic conception of the manifestation of Christ. It might well be that, under the influence of spiritual-scientific truths, people might venture to speak of a future manifestation of Christ and yet believe that He will appear in a physical body. The result would simply be another form of materialism, a continuation of what has already existed for centuries.

People have always exploited this false materialism. Indeed certain individuals declared themselves to be the new Messiah. The last well-known case occurred in the seventeenth century, when a man called Sabbatai Zevi of Smyrna announced that he was the new Messiah. He made a great stir. Not only those who lived in his immediate environment made pilgrimages to visit him, but also people from Hungary, Poland, Germany, France, Italy and North Africa. Everywhere Sabbatai Zevi was regarded as the physical incarnation of a Messiah. I do not propose to relate the human tragedy that befell the personality of Sabbatai. In the seventeenth century no great harm was done. At that time man was not really a free agent, although he could recognize intuitively—which was a kind of spiritual feeling—what was the truth. But in the twentieth century it would be a great misfortune if, under the pressure of materialism, the manifestation of Christ were to be taken in a materialistic sense, implying that one must look for His return in a physical body. This would only prove that mankind had not acquired any perception of, or insight into the real progress of human evolution towards a higher spirituality.

False Messiahs will inevitably appear and, thanks to the materialism of our time, they will find popular favour like Sabbatai in the seventeenth century. It will be a severe test for those who have been prepared by Spiritual Science to recognize where the truth lies, to know whether the spiritual theories are really permeated by a living, spiritual feeling or whether they are only a disguised form of materialism. It will be a test of the further development of Spiritual Science whether Spiritual Science will develop a sufficient number of people who are able to understand that they must perceive the spirit in the spirit, that they must seek the new manifestation of Christ in the etheric world, or whether they will refuse to look beyond the physical plane and expect to see a manifestation of Christ in the physical body. Spiritual Science has yet to undergo this test. There is no doubt that nowhere has the ground been better prepared to recognize the truth on this very subject than in Scandinavia where the Northern mythology flourished.

The twilight of the Gods embraces a significant vision of the future, and I now come to a theme which I have already touched upon. I have already told you that in a folk community which has so recently left its clairvoyant past behind it, a clairvoyant sense is also developed in its guiding Folk Spirit in order that the newfound clairvoyance can again be understood. Now if a people experiences the new epoch with new human capacities in the region where Teutonic mythology flourished, then this people must realize that the old clairvoyance must assume a different form after man has undergone development on the physical plane. The old clairvoyance was temporarily silenced; man lost for a while the vision of the world of Odin and Thor, of Baldur and Hodur, of Freyr and Freyja. But this world will return again in an epoch when other forces meanwhile have been at work upon the human soul. When man gazes out into the new world with the new etheric clairvoyance he will realize that the forces of the old Gods no longer avail. If the old forces were to persist, then the counter-forces would range themselves against that force whose function in olden times was to develop man's capacities to a certain level. Odin and Thor will be visible again, but now in a new form. All the forces opposed to Odin and Thor, everything which has developed as a counter-force will once again be visible in a mighty tableau. But the human soul would not progress; it would not be able to resist injurious influences if it were subject solely to the forces known to the old clairvoyance. Once upon a time Thor endowed man with an ego. This ego has been developed on the physical plane, has evolved out of the Midgard Snake which Loki, the Luciferic power, has left behind in the astral body. That which Thor was once able to give and which the human soul transcends, is in conflict with that which proceeds from the Midgard Snake. This is depicted in Nordic mythology as the conflict between Thor and the Midgard Snake. They are evenly matched, neither can prevail. In the same way Odin wrestles with the Fenris Wolf and does not prevail.² Freyr, who, for a time, moulded the human soul-forces, had to succumb to that which had been given from out of the Earth forces themselves to the ‘I’, which meanwhile had been developed on the physical plane. Freyr was overcome by the flaming sword of Earth-born Surtur.

All these details which are set down in the Twilight of the Gods will find their counterpart in a new etheric vision which’ in reality points to the future. But the Fenris Wolf, symbol of the relics of the old clairvoyance, will live on in the future. There is a very deep truth concealed in the fact that the struggle between the Fenris Wolf and Odin still persists. There will be no greater danger than the tendency to cling to the old clairvoyance which has not been permeated with the new forces, a danger which might tempt man to remain content with the manifestations of the old astral clairvoyance of primeval times, such as the soul pictures of the Fenris Wolf. It would again be a severe trial for the future prospects of Spiritual Science, if, perhaps in the domain of Spiritual Science itself, there should arise a tendency to all sorts of confused, chaotic clairvoyance, an inclination to value clairvoyance illuminated by reason and spiritual knowledge less highly than the old, chaotic clairvoyance which is denied this prerogative. These dark and confusing relics of the old clairvoyance would wreck a terrible vengeance. Such clairvoyance cannot be challenged by that which itself stemmed from the old clairvoyant gift, but only by that which, during the period of Kali Yuga, has matured in a healthy way in order to give birth to a new clairvoyance. The power given by the old Archangel Odin, the old clairvoyant powers, cannot save man; something very different must supplant them. These future powers however, are known to Teutonic mythology; it is fully aware of their existence. It knows that the etheric form exists in which shall be embodied what we are now to see again—Christ in etheric form. He alone will succeed in banishing the dark and impure clairvoyant powers which would confuse mankind if Odin should not succeed in overcoming the Fenris Wolf which symbolizes the atavistic clairvoyance. Vidar who has been silent until now will overcome the Fenris Wolf. We learn of this too in the Twilight of the Gods.

Whoever recognizes the significance of Vidar and feels him in his soul, will find that in the twentieth century the power to see the Christ can be given to man again. Vidar who is part of the heritage of Northern and Central Europe will again be visible to man. He was held secret in the Mysteries and occult schools—the God who should await his future mission. Only vague intimations of his image have been given. This may be seen from the fact that a picture has been found in the vicinity of Cologne and no one knows whom it represents. But it is clearly a likeness of Vidar.

Throughout the period of Kali Yuga were acquired the powers which shall enable the new men to see the new manifestations of Christ. Those who are called upon to interpret from the signs of the times what is to come are aware that the new spiritual investigation will re-establish the power of Vidar who will banish from the hearts and minds of men all the dark and confusing relics of the old clairvoyance and will awaken in the human soul the new clairvoyance that is gradually unfolding.

When the wondrous figure of Vidar shines forth to us out of the Twilight of the Gods we realize that Teutonic mythology gives promise of future hope. We feel ourselves to be inwardly related to the figure of Vidar, the deeper aspects of whose being we are now striving to understand. We hope that those forces which the Archangel of the Teutonic world can contribute to the evolution of modern times will be able to provide the core and living essence of Spiritual Science. One part only of the development of mankind and the spirit—one part of a greater whole—has been realized for the fifth post-Atlantean epoch; another part has yet to be accomplished. Those members of the Nordic peoples who feel within them the elemental and vital energies of a young people will best be able to contribute to this development. This will to some extent be implanted in the souls of men; but they themselves must be prepared to make a conscious effort. In the twentieth century one may fall by the wayside because man must to a certain extent have free choice in determining his goal which must not be pre-determined. It is therefore a question of having a proper understanding of the goal ahead. If, then, Spiritual Science reflects the knowledge of the Christ Being, and if we start from a true understanding of this Being whom we look for in the very core of the European peoples themselves, if we set our future hopes on this understanding, then we shall not be motivated by any kind of personal predilection or temperamental predisposition.

It has sometimes been said that the name we give to the greatest Being in the evolution of mankind is of no consequence. He who recognizes the Christ Being will not insist on retaining the name of Christ. If we understand the Christ Impulse in the right way we would never say: a Being plays a part in the evolution of mankind, in the life of the peoples of the West and the East and this Being must conform to man's predilections for a particular truth. Such an attitude is not compatible with the teachings of occultism. What is compatible with occult teachings is that the moment one recognizes that this Being should be given the name of Buddha, we should unhesitatingly abide by our decision irrespective of whether we agree with it or not. Fundamentally it is not a question of sympathy or antipathy, but of the factual truth.

The moment the facts are open to other interpretations we should be prepared to act differently. Facts and facts alone must decide. We have no wish to introduce Orientalism and Occidentalism into what we look upon as the life-blood of Spiritual Science; if we should discover in the realm of the Nordic and Germanic Archangels a source of potential nourishment for true Spiritual Science, then this will not be the prerogative of a particular people or tribe in the Germanic countries, but of the whole of humanity. What is given to all mankind must be given; it may, it is true, originate in a particular region, but it must be given to the whole of humanity. We do not differentiate between East and West. We accept with deep gratitude the surpassing grandeur of the primeval culture of the holy Rishis in its true form. We accept with gratitude the Persian culture, the Egypto-Chaldean and Graeco-Latin cultures, and with the same objectivity we also accept the cultural heritage of Europe. We are compelled by the needs of the situation to present the facts as they really are.

If we incorporate the total contributions which each religion has made to the civilizing process of mankind into what we recognize to be the common property of mankind, then the more we do this, the more we are acting in accordance with the Christ principle. Since this principle is capable of further development we must abandon the dogmatic interpretation of the early centuries and millennia when the initial stages of the Christ principle were only imperfectly understood. We do not look to the past for future guidance. We do not seek to perpetuate the Christ of the past; we are chiefly concerned with what can be investigated by means of spiritual perception. To us the essential element in the Christ-principle does not belong to the past—however much tradition may insist upon this—but to the future. We endeavour to ascertain what is to come. We do not rely so much on historical tradition which was fundamental to the Christ Impulse at the beginning of the Christian era; we do not attach much importance to the external and historical approach. After Christianity has passed through its growing pains, it will develop further. It has gone forth into foreign lands and sought to convert the people to the particular Christian dogmas of the age. But we profess a Christianity which proclaims that Christ was active in all ages and that we shall find Him where so ever we go, that the Christ-principle is the highest expression of Anthroposophy. And if Buddhism acknowledges as Buddhists only those who swear by Buddha, then Christianity will be the faith that swears by no prophet because it is not subject to a religious Founder attached to a particular people, but recognizes the God of all mankind.

Every Christian knows that the focal point of Christianity is a Mystery which became manifest on the physical plane at Golgotha. It is the perception of this Mystery which leads to the new vision I have described. We may also be aware that the spiritual life at the time of the Mystery of Golgotha was such that the Mystery could only be experienced in the form it was experienced at that time. We refuse to submit to dogmas, even those of a Christian past. If a dogma should be imposed upon us, irrespective of its source, we would reject it in the name of the true Christ-principle. However many may try to force the historical Christ into the Procrustean bed of a confessional creed, however many may declare that our vision of the future Christ is mistaken, we shall not allow ourselves to be led astray when they declare that He must be after this or that fashion, even when it comes from the lips of those who ought to know who Christ is. Equally, the idea of the Christ Being should not be limited or circumscribed by Eastern traditions, nor be coloured by the dogmas of Oriental dogmatism. What is taught out of the true sources of occultism concerning the evolution of the future must be free and independent of all tradition and authority.

It is a source of wonder to me how much agreement there is amongst the people assembled here. Those, not of Norse extraction, who have come here, have repeatedly said to me in the last few days how free they feel in their relations with the people of the Scandinavian North. It is proof, if proof were needed, that we are able, though some may not be conscious of it, to understand each other at the deepest levels of spiritual knowledge and that we shall understand each other, especially in those matters I emphasized at the last Theosophical Congress in Budapest and which I repeated during our own General Meeting in Berlin when we had the great pleasure of seeing friends from Norway amongst us. It would be disastrous for Spiritual Science if he who cannot yet see into the spiritual world were obliged to accept in blind faith what he is told. I beg of you now, as I begged of you in Berlin, never to accept on authority or on faith anything I have said or shall say. Even before one has reached the stage of clairvoyance it is possible to test the results of clairvoyant vision. I beg of you not to accept as an article of faith whatever I have said about Zarathustra and Jesus of Nazareth, about Hermes and Moses, Odin and Thor, and about Christ Jesus Himself, nor to accept my statements as authoritative. I beseech you to abjure the principle of authority, for that principle would be deleterious to our Movement.

I am sure, however, that when you begin to reflect objectively, when you say, “We have been told so and so; let us investigate the records accessible to us, the religious and mythological documents, let us check the statements of the natural scientists”, you will realize how right I am. Avail yourselves of every means at your disposal, the more the better. I have no qualms. All that is given out of Rosicrucian sources can be tested in every way. Armed with the most materialistic criticism of the Gospels, verify what I have said about Christ Jesus; verify it as thoroughly as possible by all the means at your command on the physical plane. I am convinced that the more thoroughly you test it, the more you will find that what has been given out of the sources Of the Rosicrucian Mystery will correspond to the truth.

I take it for granted that the communications given out from Rosicrucian sources will be tested rather than believed, tested not superficially by the superficial methods of modern science, but ever more conscientiously. Take the latest achievements of natural science with its Most recent techniques, take the results of historical and religious research, it is all one to me. The more you test them, the more you will find them confirmed from this source. You must accept nothing on authority. The best students of Spiritual Science are those who take what is said as a stimulus in the first place and test it by the facts of life itself. For in life too, at every stage of life, you can test what is given out from the sources of Rosicrucianism. It is far from my intention in these lectures to lay down dogmas and claim that the facts are such and such and must be believed. Verify them by an exchange of views with people of able and active mind and you will find confirmation of what has been said as a prophetic indication of the future manifestation of Christ. You need only open your eyes and verify it objectively; we make no appeal to belief in authority. This need to test everything received from Spiritual Science should become a kind of basic attitude permeating our whole approach.

I should like to impress upon you, therefore, that it is not anthroposophical to accept a statement as dogma on the authority of this or that person; but it is truly anthroposophical to allow oneself to be stimulated by Spiritual Science and to verify what is communicated by life itself. Then, whatever Might colour in any way a truly anthroposophical view will cease to exist. Neither Eastern nor Western predilections must be allowed to colour our view. He who speaks from the point of view of Rosicrucianism accepts neither Orientalism nor Occidentalism; both appeal to him equally. The inner nature of the facts alone determine their truth. He must bear this in mind, especially at such an important moment as this when we have indicated the Folk Spirit who rules over the Northern lands. Here dwells the Teutonic mythological Spirit; even though his presence is not felt, his influence is more widely diffused in Europe than one imagines. If a conflict were to arise between the peoples of the North it could not arise because one people disputed the contributions to the common weal. Each people must practice self-knowledge and ask itself: how can I best contribute to the common weal? Then, that which leads to the collective progress of all, to the common welfare of mankind, will be harvested. The sources of what we are able to contribute lie in our individual characteristics. The Teutonic Archangel will bring to the whole field of culture in the future what he is most fitted for in accordance with the capacities he has acquired which we have already outlined. By virtue of this inherent power he is able to ensure that what could not yet be presented in the first half of the fifth post-Atlantean epoch may play its part in the second half, namely, that spiritual element which we were able to recognize in a germinal, prophetic form in the Slav philosophy and in the national sentiment of the Slavonic peoples. This preparatory stage lasted for the first half of the fifth post-Atlantean age. At first, all that could be achieved by way of philosophy was a highly sublimated spiritual perception. This must then be grasped and permeated by the vital energies of the people so that it may become the common property of all mankind and may be realized in all aspects of our earthly life. Let us try to come to an understanding on this subject, for then this somewhat dangerous theme will have caused no great harm if all who are assembled here from the North, South, East, West and Centre of Europe feel that this theme is really important for the whole of humanity, that the larger nations no less than the smaller isolated groups have each their appointed mission and have to contribute their share to the whole. Often the smallest national fragments have most important contributions to make because it is given to them to preserve and nurture old and new motifs in the soul-life. Thus, even though we have made this dangerous topic the subject of our lectures, it will serve to foster the basic sentiment of a community of soul amongst all those who are united under the banner of Anthroposophical thought and feeling and of Anthroposophical ideals.

Only if we should still react out of sympathy and antipathy, if we have no clear understanding of the essence of our Anthroposophical Movement, could misunderstandings arise from what has been said. But if we have grasped the underlying spirit of these lectures, then the ideas presented may also help us to make the firm resolution to harbour the high ideal—each from his own standpoint and from his own background—to contribute to the common goal that which is inherent in our mission. We can best achieve this through our individual initiative and our natural predisposition. We can best serve mankind if we develop our particular talents so as to offer them to the whole of humanity as a sacrifice which we bring to the progressive development of culture. We must learn to understand this. We must learn to understand that it would not redound to the credit of Spiritual Science, if it did not contribute to the evolution of man, Angel and Archangel, but were to support the convictions of one people at the expense of another. It is no part of Spiritual Science to assist in imposing the confessional beliefs of one continent upon another continent. If the religious teachings of the East were to prevail in the West, or vice versa, that would be a complete denial of Anthroposophical teaching. What alone accords with Anthroposophical teaching is that we should unselfishly dedicate the best that is in us, our sympathy and compassion, to the well being of all mankind. And if we are self-contained, and live, not for ourselves but for all men, then that is true Anthroposophical tolerance. I had to add these words by way of explanation for this somewhat delicate subject might otherwise offend national susceptibilities.

Spiritual Science, as we shall realize more and more clearly, will bring an end to the divisions of mankind. Therefore now is the right moment to learn to know the Folk Souls, because the province of Spiritual Science is not to promote antagonism between them, but to call upon them to work in harmonious cooperation. The better we understand this, the better students of Spiritual Science we shall be. On this note we shall end for the time being the course of lectures given here. For the knowledge we gather must ultimately find an echo in our feelings and our thinking and in the Anthroposophical goal we set before us. The more we practice this in our lives, the better Anthroposophists we are.

I have found that many of those who have accompanied us to Oslo have received a most favourable impression which they hasten to express in the words, “how much at home we feel here in the North!” And if higher spiritual forces are to be awakened in mankind, which we shall certainly see realized in the future, then to use the words of Vidar, the Aesir who has been silent until now, he will become the active friend of cooperative work, of cooperative endeavour, for which purpose we have all assembled here. With this object in view let us take leave of one another after having been together for a few days, and let us always remain together in spirit with this intention. Irrespective of where we students of Spiritual Science come from, whether from near or far, may we always meet together in harmony, even when we discuss amongst ourselves the particular characteristics of the peoples inhabiting the various countries of the Earth. We know that these are only the several tongues of flame which will mount together into the mighty flame upon the altar—the united progress of mankind—through the Anthroposophical view of life which lies so close to our hearts and is so deeply rooted in our souls.

• 1. Chapter 40 of Germania. See also the lecture given by Rudolf Steiner in Basle, 12.xii.1916, entitled Christmas at a Time of Grievous Destiny. The Festivals and their Meaning. Vol. 1. Christmas. (Rudolf Steiner Press).
• 2. On the day of Ragnarok (the Twilight of the Gods) Odin is swallowed up by the Fenris Wolf. For the relation between Odin and the Fenris Wolf, see >Appendix.

Kristiania (Oslo), May 16, 1909

Today we shall stress more the occult side of yesterday's observation. The four post-Atlantean cultures somehow had to reflect the great cosmic events in the souls of human beings as they had happened in historical sequence. However, beginning with the thirteenth or fourteenth century of our cultural epoch, such a reflection no longer took place because the external events in human evolution must be traced to more profound reasons.

We know that the etheric bodies of the great Atlantean initiates had been preserved for the Seven Holy Rishis, and we also know how the etheric and astral body of Zarathustra had been woven into those of Moses and Hermes. At any time the possibility existed that such etheric bodies, which had been cultivated and prepared by the initiates, could be further used in the spiritual economy of the world. But other things took place as well. For especially important personalities, such etheric bodies are formed in the higher worlds. When somebody was especially important for the mission of humanity, an etheric body or an astral body was woven in the higher worlds and was then imprinted on this personality.

This is what happened in the case of Shem who indeed has something to do with the whole tribe of the Semites. A special etheric body was coined for such a tribal ancestor, and Shem became a sort of dual personality by this process. It may sound fantastic to the modern mind, but a clairvoyant would see a personality like Shem as he would see an ordinary human being with his or her aura; but then also in such a way as if a higher being that extends down from higher worlds completely filled his etheric body and as if the aura became a mediator between this personality and the higher world. Residing in a human being, such a divine being, however, has a very special power: it can multiply such an etheric body, and the multiplied etheric bodies then form a web that is continually woven into the descendants. Thus the descendants of Shem received an imprint of the copy of his etheric body. However, the Mystery Centers kept not only the multiplied copies but also the etheric body of Shem himself. Any personality that was meant to receive a special mission had to use this etheric body if it wanted to be able to communicate with the Semitic people, similar to the way in which a very educated European would have to learn the language of the Hottentots if he wanted to communicate with them. Therefore, the personality with a special mission had to bear within himself the real etheric body of Shem in order to be able to communicate with the Semitic people. Such a personality, for example, was Melchizedek: he could show himself to Abraham only in the etheric body of Shem.

We now have to ask ourselves something. If it is only now, in the fifth post-Atlantean cultural epoch, possible for us to develop an understanding for Christianity, what was the situation in the remainder of the Graeco-Latin era, which lasted into the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries? A mysterious, occult process took place. Christ lived only three years in the sheaths of Jesus of Nazareth, who was such a sublime individuality that He was able to leave the physical world at the age of thirty when the dove appeared over His head so that He could enter the spiritual world. Since the Christ-Individuality lived in the physical body, it filled out the three highly developed bodies of Jesus. Invisible to the physical eye, they were now multiplied as had formerly been the case with the etheric body of Shem so that the copies of the etheric and astral bodies of Jesus of Nazareth were available from the time he died on the cross. This has nothing to do with His ego; it passed into the spiritual world and has repeatedly reincarnated itself afterward.

We see how Christian writers in the first few centuries after the Christ-Event still worked on the basis of an oral tradition that was transmitted by the disciples of the Apostles, who set great value on a direct, physical transmission of the Christ-Event. However, this would not have been a sufficient building block for later centuries, and that is why a copy of the etheric body of Jesus of Nazareth was woven into especially eminent heralds of the Christian message beginning with the sixth and seventh centuries. One such herald was Augustine, who in his youth had to go through tremendous struggles. However, only when the impulse of the etheric body of Jesus of Nazareth came to work in him in a significant way did he begin to become engaged in Christian mysticism of his own initiative. His writings can be understood only in this light. Many other personalities in the world, such as Columban,⁴⁰ Gallus,⁴¹ and Patrick,⁴² carried within themselves such a copy of Jesus's etheric body and were therefore in a position to spread Christianity and built a bridge from the Christ-Event to the succeeding times.

By contrast, we see human beings whose astral body received the astral body of Jesus of Nazareth in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Such a personality was Francis of Assisi. When we look at his life from this point of view, we will understand it in quite a few ways. His qualities of humility and Christian devotion will become especially clear to us when we tell ourselves that such a mystery lived in him. In the time from about the eleventh through the thirteenth centuries such human beings became the heralds of Christianity by the very fact that the astral body of Jesus was woven into their own astral body. Hence, they received Christianity by virtue of Grace.

Although the ego of Jesus of Nazareth left its three sheaths at the baptism of John, a copy of this ego remained in each of them similar to the imprint a seal leaves behind. The Christ-Being took possession of these three bodies and of that which remained as the imprint of the Jesus-Ego. Beginning with the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries, something like an ego copy of Jesus was woven into human beings who began to speak of an “inner Christ.” Meister Eckhart and Tauler were individuals who spoke from their own experience like an ego copy of Jesus of Nazareth.

There are still many people present who carry within themselves something like the various bodies of Jesus of Nazareth, but these are now no longer the leading personalities. Increasingly we can see how there are human beings in the fifth epoch who must rely on themselves and on their own ego and how such inspired people have become a rarity. It was therefore necessary that a spiritual tendency develop in our fifth epoch to ensure that humanity would continue to be imbued with spiritual knowledge. Those individualities who were capable of looking into the future had to take care that human beings in the times to come would not be left simply to rely on their human ego only. The legend of the Holy Grail relates that the chalice from which the Christ Jesus took the Last Supper with his disciples was kept in a certain place. We see in the story of Parsifal the course of a young person's education typical for our fifth post-Atlantean epoch. Parsifal had been instructed not to ask too many questions, and his dilemma arose from his following those instructions. That is the important transition from the traditional to more modern times: in ancient India and later with Augustine and Francis of Assisi the student had to live in a state of the highest degree of passive devotion. All these humble people allowed themselves to be inspired by what was already alive in them and by what had been woven into them. But now things changed in that the ego became a questioning ego. Today, any soul that accepts passively what is given to it cannot transcend itself because it merely oberves the happenings in the physical world around it. In our times the soul has to ask questions; it has to rise above itself; it has to grow beyond its given form. It must raise questions, just as Parsifal ultimately learned to inquire after the mysteries of the Grail's Castle.⁴³

Spiritual investigation today begins only where there is questioning, and the souls today that are stimulated by external science to ask questions and to search are the Parsifal souls. And this has led to the introduction of Rosicrucian education—that much maligned mystery school of thought—that accepts tradition gratefully but does not accept traditional wisdom blindly. Yet that which today constitutes Rosicrucian spiritual orientation has been investigated in the higher worlds directly with the spiritual eye and with the means the student himself has been instructed to utilize This has not come about simply because this or that is written in old books or because certain people believed one thing or another. Rather, the Rosicrucian spiritual method proclaims wisdom that has been investigated today. It was gradually prepared in the Rosicrucian schools that were founded in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries as a result of the work of an individuality by the name of Christian Rosenkreutz.

This accumulated wisdom can today be proclaimed as Spiritual Science. This is so because today it is no longer possible to instill in human beings what is to inspire them from the inside without their having a hand in the process. Today people who feel that Spiritual Science speaks to their hearts must approach it through their own free will, through their own free impulse, and through the fact that they feel enlivened by spiritual knowledge. Hence we need not attempt to stir up an interest in Spiritual Science.

Through this theosophical-Rosicrucian orientation of the spirit, we again bring close to ourselves what is still present in the copies of Jesus of Nazareth's ego. Those who prepare themselves in this manner will pull into their souls the copy of the ego of Jesus of Nazareth so that they become like imprints of a seal, and it is in this way that the Christ- Principle finds its way into the human soul. Rosicrucianism prepared something positive, and since anthroposophy is meant to become life, the souls that absorb and truly accept it will gradually undergo a metamorphosis. To accept anthroposophy within yourself means to change the soul in such a way that it is able to come to a true understanding of the Christ.

The anthroposophist makes himself or herself a living recipient of what was given to Moses and Paul in the JavehChrist-Revelation. It is written in the fifth letter of the Apocalypse that the people in the fifth cultural epoch are those who can really absorb the things that will be quite obvious for the cultural period of the Philadelphia community. The wisdom of the fifth cultural period will open as a flower of love in the sixth period.

Today mankind is called upon to accept into itself something new, something divine, and thereby to undertake again the ascent into the spiritual world. The Spiritual Scientific teaching of evolution is being imparted not because people are supposed to put their blind faith into it, but because mankind is supposed to reach an understanding of it through its own powers of judgment. This teaching is being directed to those who bear the core of the Parsifal nature within themselves. And it is not being proclaimed just in special places or to a special group of people, but human beings from all of humanity will come together to listen to the call of spiritual wisdom.

• 40. Columban (545–615) was an Irish missionary.
• 41. Gallus was a sixth-century Irish-Scotch missionary.
• 42. Patrick (c. 384–c. 460) was an English missionary.
• 43. Steiner is referring to the German courtly epic Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach (about 1200/10). The Frenchman Chretien de Troyes was the author of the first great artistic treatment of the theme; in his unfinished poem “Percivale” finds the Grail and heals the king. Wolfram's story is drawn from Chretien's model but is much more spiritualized in its triadic structure: innocence, fall, salvation. The Simpleton Parsifal is educated as a knight who knows proper courtly behavioral codes, one of them being not to ask too many questions. This attitude causes him to be expelled from the Grail's Castle, and only after he has undergone a second, Christian phase of education does he know how to express his charity by asking the appropriate question of the ailing king.

My dear Friends,

We have spoken together in earlier lecture cycles on many important subjects that arise in connection with the theosophical outlook on the world. On the present occasion we have chosen a subject that is among the very most important of all for theosophical life and thought—man himself. For every branch of human knowledge this is a subject of the first importance and value, and for theosophy unquestionably so. In theosophy there should really be a fresh feeling of what the Greek understood by the word “Anthropos.” If we would find a true modern rendering of the Greek word, we might say “one who looks up into the heights.” This is the definition of man which finds expression in the word “anthropos,”—he who looks up into the heights to find the source and origin of his life. Such is man, according to the Greek. To recognise man as a being of this nature is the very raison d'être of theosophy, Theosophy wants to rise above the details of sense existence and of the outer activity of life, into the heights of spiritual experience where we are able to learn whence man has come and whither he is going. Man himself, rightly the object of study for every world outlook, must pre-eminently be so for theosophy.

In this cycle of lectures we propose to consider man in his spiritual nature from three standpoints from which a study of man has been pursued in every serious world-conception, although in ordinary external life they do not generally find the same recognition. I refer to the standpoints of occultism, theosophy and philosophy.

Now it is obvious that we shall first have to come to an understanding together of what these three words mean. When we speak of occultism, then for the majority of the educated world today we are speaking of something totally unknown. For ordinary everyday life occultism, in its original and proper form, has always been something secret and hidden. Occultism starts, indeed, from the idea that in order to come to a knowledge and experience of his own being, man cannot remain at the kind of vision that ordinary consciousness affords, but must go forward to an altogether different vision, an altogether different kind of knowledge.

Let me make this clear by a comparison. We live perhaps in a certain town and we see the experiences of a few individuals in that town. If the town is a fairly large one, we really know nothing more than a few small details of all that is to be seen and known in it. Suppose we want to take a survey of the whole town. We must seek out some elevated position in the environment whence to obtain a view such as we never could have so long as we remained in the town. And if we want to connect up and survey the whole intellectual and moral life of the place then we shall have to betake ourselves to a spiritual height above the experiences of every day.

This is the very thing man has to do when he wants to get beyond the experiences of ordinary consciousness, for these experiences show him in reality only a part of what goes to make the whole of life in all its connections. Knowledge must go out beyond itself; it must ascend to a vantage point above ordinary consciousness and ordinary knowledge. It follows naturally that the details—in all their intensity of colour and light and shade—tend to disappear. When we go up to a height in order to get a wider view over some town, we see it as a whole and lose the finer details that a closer individual experience can afford. It is the same with a point of view that is raised above ordinary consciousness. It has to forgo a great deal that belongs to the more detailed and individual part of life. But it gives on the other hand something that is of first importance for a knowledge of the nature of man, it gives a Vision of that which lies at the very foundation of man's nature and is the same in all men.

The only way to arrive at such a vantage point is to undertake a path of development and attain what is usually called clairvoyant knowledge. You can read about it in books on the subject and learn what souls have to do in order to come to clairvoyant knowledge. You will find described how the ordinary means of knowledge—perception with the senses and reflection with the ordinary faculty of understanding and judgment—are here not enough; and it is shown how these have to be overcome and superseded. Quite new means of acquiring knowledge, means that lie hidden in the soul like a seed in the earth, have to be discovered and developed.

You will probably already have learned from the literature on the subject that three stages are to be distinguished on the path to clairvoyant or occult knowledge. The first is the stage of Imaginative knowledge, the second the stage of Inspired knowledge, and the third that of Intuitive knowledge. If we wanted to describe in popular language the results of the self-knowledge attained by means of Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition, we should have to say that it enables man to behold things that are hidden from ordinary consciousness. In order to bring home to you in a simple manner what is attained in occult knowledge and clairvoyant vision, I need only point to the contrast between sleeping and waking. When he is awake man has around him the world of the senses, it forms his environment, and he judges it with his intellect and his other faculties of knowledge. When he enters into the condition of sleep, then consciousness—that is, ordinary consciousness—is darkened But man does not cease to be when he falls asleep, nor come newly into being when he wakes up. Man is alive in the time that passes between falling asleep and awakening; only, he has not sufficient strength and energy of soul to perceive what is in his environment when he is asleep. To put it in another way, man's powers of knowledge require to be sharpened by the physical organs, the senses and the nerves before he can become aware of what is in his environment. At night when man is away from his sense organs and his nervous system, the forces in the soul are too weak for him to be able to rouse himself and perceive his environment. Now it is possible, through the means employed for training in occult knowledge, to bring the soul, which is too weak in the night to perceive its environment, into a condition where it can under certain circumstances perceive even when it is in the state of ordinary sleep. In this way there is opened to man's perception a new and wider world; one might say—only the expression is from a certain aspect unjustified—a higher world.

We have thus to do with a change in the soul, and a change that is in the direction of strengthening the inner forces of the soul, increasing the soul's energy. As this change comes about, man learns to know what is the real nature of that which goes out of the body in sleep and comes into it again on awakening. He learns that the part of him which is outside the body during sleep contains that inner seed and kernel of his being, which enters into the body at birth and passes out of it again when he goes through the gate of death. Further, man comes to know that during the time between death and a new birth he lives in the world of soul and spirit. In short, he learns to have knowledge that is spiritual and he becomes familiar with an environment which is of a spiritual nature and hidden from ordinary consciousness. In the spiritual world lie the foundations of all existence, including physical existence; so that by following the path of occult knowledge man acquires the faculty to behold the deepest and original foundations of existence. He is, however, only able to acquire this faculty by first himself undergoing change; he has to become a different kind of “knower” from what he is in ordinary consciousness.

Occultism can only find its way to man, when man sets out to apply to his own soul the means that are given for attaining occult knowledge. It has lain in the very nature of things up to the present time—you will often find indications of it in literature—that it was not the concern of every single human being so to educate himself as to be able to have direct vision of the spiritual world and penetrate to the original foundations of existence. The means to do so were imparted only to small circles of persons, and strict care was taken that before a man was given the means of attaining occult knowledge, he should have a preparation and training which would make him ripe to apply these means to his own soul.

It is easy to understand why this had to be. Higher occult knowledge leads, as we have seen, to the foundations of all existence, it leads to the world from which our world is derived and made. At the same time man acquires faculties he did not have before; and so, when he becomes able to penetrate to the foundations of existence, he is in a position to execute deeds that cannot be carried out with the ordinary means of knowledge. To make myself clear, I must here refer to a fact on which I shall have more to say later: for the moment, I only want to cite it to demonstrate how impossible it was to give occult knowledge into the hands of everyone. Man has to have egoism implanted into him during Earth evolution. Without egoism he could not fulfil his task on Earth, for his task on Earth consists in evolving from egoism into love; through love he has to ennoble and subdue and spiritualise egoism. At the end of Earth evolution man will be permeated through and through with love, but he could never evolve up to this love in freedom, had not egoism been implanted into his nature from the beginning. Now, egoism is in the highest degree dangerous and harmful when it is a question of undertaking to perform some deed behind the world of ordinary consciousness. The whole history of man is filled with egoism, and endless harm has been wrought by it in ordinary life; but all the trouble that is due to egoism in ordinary life is a mere trifle in comparison with the harm and trouble it causes if it is able to work with occult knowledge. It has, therefore, always been required of those to whom means of occult knowledge were imparted that they should have a character so thoroughly disciplined and prepared that, let the temptation be ever so great, they would never work in the sense of egoism. That was the first and all-important requirement in the preparation for occult knowledge. Anyone admitted to such knowledge must be quite incapable of allowing the occult to be misused for an egoistic end. Naturally this meant that only a very few in the whole course of evolution could be chosen for reception into the occult schools, which in olden times were called Mysteries—and sometimes also known under other names.

The occult knowledge to which these few attained had definite characteristics and qualities. The characteristic of which I am now going to speak is in our own time undergoing change, but it has been common to all rightly named occult schools hitherto It is this. In the occult schools, where the means of occult knowledge were imparted to men, among the many things that had to be overcome in the process of overcoming egoism, it was required of the pupil that he should not speak in the Mysteries or occult schools with ordinary words, that he should not try to make himself understood with the words that are current in the life of external consciousness. For a kind of refined and higher egoism enters into man as soon as he makes use of the words and thoughts and ideas that are employed in external life. At once there come into consideration all the things in a man that do not let us see him as a human being pure and simple, but as a member of a particular folk or people, with all the egoisms that belong to him through the fact that he loves his own folk. These are quite justified in ordinary life. For external consciousness men must have these refined and higher egoisms; they are among the most praiseworthy qualities of human life. But for the highest knowledge, for the all human knowledge that has to be sought behind the life of ordinary consciousness, we may not bring with us even these refined and higher egoisms. Special preparation had therefore to be given in the occult schools, by the creation and study of an all-human language. The language of ordinary life was not used in occult schools, but a language that worked upon the human being in quite a different way. For it was a language that worked not by means of words and thoughts as is the case with ordinary knowledge, but by means of symbols. Those of you who know mathematics will readily understand why symbols were chosen for this purpose; for symbols have a universal meaning. By developing oneself up to the stage of a language that speaks in symbols, one was able to come right out beyond all the egoism that confuses judgment and clouds ordinary consciousness, beyond even the higher egoisms of which we have spoken. This meant however, that what one was able to say was comprehensible only to those who had first learned the language. The language consisted of symbols that could be drawn, or traced with movements of the hand in rituals, or expressed in colour combinations and so forth. In occult schools, not what was imparted in words was of importance—that was only preparatory—but what was spoken in symbols, independent of ordinary human words, independent even of ordinary human thoughts. Thus, the first step to be taken in an occult school was the study of a symbol language.

In very ancient times those who were initiated in the Mysteries were under strict injunction not to betray to people outside anything of the Mystery language; for if a man who was outside the Mysteries were to get to know the symbols and were clever enough, he might come to possess—all unprepared—a means to occult knowledge. The creation of the symbols provided the possibility of a language common to all men. The keeping secret of the symbols prevented the knowledge that was expressed in them from reaching those who were unripe to receive it. Thus, through the very fact that one was obliged to speak and use a symbolic language, provision was at the same time made against Mystery knowledge being communicated indiscriminately. True Mystery knowledge, true occultism, was a knowledge that was kept guarded in the secret schools of the Mysteries and had to be attained by the development of occult faculties. It was a knowledge that by its nature belonged to all mankind; nevertheless it was always limited to narrow circles of people in the way I have described.

There is still another reason why occultism could not be communicated to mankind at large. Just as truly as it is necessary in the first place to be free of egoism if one is to be allowed to penetrate the world that opens to occult vision, so truly does man find it impossible, when his power of knowledge has been transformed and he has become able to look into that totally different world, to make use there of the ideas and conceptions to which he is accustomed. The creation of symbols serves, then, this further purpose: it provides a means whereby one can express what cannot be expressed with ordinary human words and ideas. For the human being can only apply himself to occultism when he is not orientated to the senses and the brain, but is outside them. All ordinary words, however, are connected in their origin with the brain, they spring from outer observation; when therefore a man perceives a fact of occult knowledge, he at once feels how impossible it is to give expression to it with ordinary words. Occult knowledge is a knowledge that is attained outside the body. To give it expression by the use of means that are attained through the body is, on the face of it, at the beginning of occult knowledge quite impossible.

Occult knowledge is, however, not merely there to be acquired by a few persons who are curious; its whole content is something that is essential and of the very first importance for all mankind. Occult knowledge is the experience of the foundations of existence and in especial of the foundations of human existence, and it must enter right into life. Means must be found to carry occult knowledge right into the life of man and to bring it within the comprehension of people generally.

The first means employed to make occult knowledge comprehensible is, and always has been, what has in more recent times been called theosophy. In turning it into theosophy, one has to forgo what we have just seen to be an essential characteristic of occult knowledge, namely, that it makes use only of the very highest form of language. One abandons this restriction and proceeds to clothe occult truths in ordinary human words and ideas. Occult knowledge is communicated, for example, to a particular people in a form that employs the ideas and concepts current among this people. The result is that occult knowledge becomes specific and differentiated, appearing in the form of communications made through the words of one section of mankind. Those who were in possession of secret knowledge were obliged to clothe it in the language of a particular people; and so we find clothed in the language of particular peoples what is in reality the property of all mankind.

In the Mysteries the aim has always been to remain as human as possible, in the large sense of the word. At the same time the initiates of the Mysteries had to make themselves understood, they had to express themselves in the language of the people and in the ideas that the people had developed. And so individual theosophists who have come forward among mankind have had to take pains to make themselves intelligible in regard to the particular aim and object or the particular sphere of life about which they were speaking.

It is by no means easy to give expression in this way to occult knowledge, in one particular language or in one particular form of ideas. But it has been done and to no small extent, in various regions of the earth and at various times in man's history. Occultism is a thing into which one has to find one's way by means of clairvoyant training and discipline. Theosophy, on the other hand, is a thing that is presented to us in ideas and concepts that we have already and in which occult knowledge has only been clothed When this has been ably and correctly done, then occult truths are within the comprehension of any man who has sound and healthy judgment and takes pains to master them. Theosophy is absolutely understandable by anyone with a healthy intelligence if he will but give himself the trouble We have no right to say that he alone can grasp the occult who can himself develop occult vision. When occult truths are clothed in ideas, as they are in theosophy, they are within the scope of every healthy human intelligence.

Now in accordance with laws that prevail in the evolution of mankind (we shall have more to say about these later on) there came a time when a further change was necessary. In the far-off past of evolution we find among the most ancient peoples (I do not refer here to the decadent peoples that an un-understanding anthropology calls “primeval,” but to the really original peoples of which spiritual science tells)—among these original peoples we find Mysteries and occult schools which communicated occult knowledge to a few individuals, and we find also a more widely communicated theosophy, that is to say, occult truths clothed in familiar ideas. But as time goes on, we observe a change. Whereas hitherto almost the only way in which man could approach the first foundations of existence had been in the form of theosophy, that form began now to pass over into one that was more religious in character. It was recognised that while it is true that the healthy human understanding, if it will only go far enough, can quite well grasp theosophy, yet with the progress of human life it was becoming no longer always possible for men to adopt the comprehensive point of view of a healthy human understanding, and provision had also to be made for those who, simply through the conditions of external life, had no possibility of developing their intelligence far enough to enable them to penetrate occult truths. A way had to be found whereby such could attain a kind of “faith” knowledge of the foundations of existence.

The Mysteries had already what may be called a “feeling” knowledge, and out of this developed now the religious form of knowledge, which became for later times the more popular and more accessible form of knowledge in comparison with the theosophical. When we go back a long way in the evolution of mankind, we find a world conception which has not a religious character,—in the sense in which we understand the word today. In the first Post-Atlantean epoch, the ancient Indian, we find an occult knowledge of which the people were able to partake in the form of theosophy. For this far-off Indian time, “religion” coincides with theosophy. When we trace back the evolution of religion, we find at its starting point theosophy. With the progress of evolution it became more and more necessary to make use of the religious form of knowledge. It could no longer be assumed that man with his healthy human understanding could have insight into what theosophy was able to give. And so the truths of theosophy began to be poured into a new mould and became the truths of religion.

Passing on to more recent times, we find that in Christianity the change becomes complete,—the change, that is, from the theosophical form of knowledge to the religious. In the various Christian churches and creeds as they have developed through the centuries, very little trace of theosophy is to be found. The theosophy of the old kind has disappeared into the background, and we see how with the development of Christianity develops also a theology; so that in time we have in addition to faith a theology, whilst theosophy becomes an object, if not of hatred, at any rate of antipathy, to the theologians.

A third form in which man's strivings after the foundations of existence have been clothed is the philosophical. Occult knowledge is acquired by the human being in so far as he is free from the physical body. Theosophy expresses occult knowledge in external thoughts and external words. Philosophy strives to reach to the foundations of the world with instruments of knowledge which, though refined and subtle in quality, are nevertheless bound to the physical brain. Philosophy, as we find it in the essentially philosophical epoch of human evolution, does not set out, as does theosophy, to hand on that which has been acquired outside the physical body; philosophy tries, in so far as may be, to approach the foundations of existence by means of man's ordinary faculties of knowledge. The truths of philosophy are thus striven after with faculties of knowledge which, though of the subtlest, are yet connected with the body. Philosophy has, at bottom, the same goal as occultism and theosophy, namely, to search out the foundations of existence; but philosophy makes use of the thinking and the means of research that are bound up with the brain and with outer perception. With the aid of these it sets out to delve into the foundations of existence. And, working as it does with the subtlest and finest knowledge faculties of man, philosophy remains perforce the concern only of a few. Philosophy can never become popular. A great many people feel philosophy to be something that is much too difficult for them,—if not tiresome and tedious!

Now the aforesaid characteristic of philosophy is important,—that it works with knowledge faculties which are bound up with the senses, and that it chooses of these the subtlest and the most refined. For, in so far as it employs means that are connected with the personality, philosophy has inevitably a personal character. When, however, man really succeeds in excercising the very subtlest of his knowledge faculties, it becomes possible for him to throw off something of the personal element; and in the degree that he is able to do this, philosophy becomes universal, all-human. One needs to enter very deeply into philosophy to be able to detect its universal character. Its personal character is unfortunately only too obvious. It requires deep penetration to perceive fundamental principles that are common to such apparently different thinkers, for example, as the ancient Greek philosophers Parmenides and Heraclitus. One can however quickly appreciate the difference between these and an unkindly critic like Schopenhauer who approaching merely the external side of philosophy, sees only what splits it up into many different personal standpoints, and does not see the sequence of these personal human standpoints.

In this sense philosophy is the very reverse of occultism. Philosophy has to be attained by the most personal of means, whereas occultism is achieved by laying aside personality. Therefore is it so difficult for one who gives utterance in correct philosophical manner to what is personal in him to be understood by his fellowmen. On the other hand, anyone who succeeds in clothing occultism in expressions and ideas that are current and generally comprehensible, will meet with understanding all the world over. Occultism strips itself entirely of the personal element. Systems of philosophy arise directly out of the personal in man; occultism arises out of the impersonal and is on this account capable of general comprehension. And when it is a question of expressing occultism in terms of theosophy, the endeavour is always made to speak to every human heart and every human soul, and in large measure this can be done.

The foregoing description of the three points of view may serve as a kind of preparatory introduction to our studies, You will have been able to see for yourselves what one may call the more external characteristics of the occult, the theosophical and the philosophical point of view.

Occultism is in its results one and the same for all mankind. In reality there is no such thing as a difference of standpoint in occultism,—any more than there are different mathematics. It is only necessary in regard to any particular question to have the means actually at hand to acquire knowledge on that question, and the knowledge will be the same as is reached by everyone who has the right means at his disposal. Thus, speaking in the ideal sense, we can just as little admit the existence of different standpoints in occultism as we can imagine there might be different standpoints in mathematics. Consequently occultism, wherever it has made its appearance, has always been recognised as single and universal. It is true that in the various theosophies that have existed from time to time and have supplied the outer cloak, so to speak, of occult truths, differences show themselves; but that is because the truths have had to be clothed differently for one folk or one epoch, than for another folk or another epoch. In other words, the differences between the theosophies that exist on the Earth lie in the manner of thought used to clothe the occult truths. The foundations of occultism are always and everywhere one and the same.

Religions, on the other hand, since they take their source in the theosophical garment of occultism, have acquired differences in respect of people and time. Occultism knows no such differentiations, it knows nothing that might stir up opposition between man and man. No cause for opposition exists, since occultism is the single undivided property of all mankind. And inasmuch as theosophy should in our time concern itself with the provision of a right and proper expression for occultism, it too must take care to absorb as little as possible of the differentiations that have manifested themselves in mankind. It must set itself the aim of being a faithful expression of occult truth and occult connections in so doing, it will inevitably also work for the overthrow of all specialised world-conceptions and help to break down religious differentiations. We must learn completely to overcome the inclination to a theosophy of a definite stamp and colouring. It has gradually come about in the history of evolution that theosophies have tended to receive a certain nuance and colouring in accordance—I will not say with religious prejudices, but with religious preconceived feelings and opinions. Theosophy needs to keep constantly in view its ideal,—to be a reflection of occultism. There can therefore be no such thing as a Buddhist theosophy or a Hindu theosophy, or a Zoroastrian or a Christian. Naturally, regard must be had to the characteristic ideas and thoughts with which particular people will approach theosophy. Nevertheless it must never let go its ideal of being a pure expression for occult truth. It was, for example, a repudiation of the fundamental principle of occultists all the world over, when a theosophy made its appearance among certain societies in Central Europe, calling itself a “Christian” theosophy. As a matter of fact, you can just as little have a Christian theosophy as a Buddhist theosophy or a Zoroastrian.

The relation theosophy has to assume to religion is that of an expounder of its truths. For theosophy is in a position to understand the truths of religion. And then forms and expressions of some particular aspect of occultism and that occultism itself has to be grasped independently of all such differentiations.

As I have pointed out, this must be our ideal. It is quite understandable that occultism has been clothed in many and varied ways the world over, even while all occultists are in agreement as to their knowledge; it is nevertheless of great importance that in our time a possibility should again be given for speaking with a single voice about occultism. This can only be, if the goodwill is really present to shake off once for all the differences that have their origin in preconceived feelings and opinions. And it is encouraging to see how already the desire is gaining ground for a general agreement on elementary matters of occult knowledge. In regard, for instance, to the knowledge of reincarnation and karma it will in the near future be possible to attain something like universal agreement. As our theosophy develops, it will, to begin with, concern itself first and foremost with the spread over the whole earth of the great and important truths of reincarnation and karma. For these truths are destined to prevail; even religious prejudices will surrender before them.

A great work for peace on earth would be accomplished if unity and harmony could be established in regard to the higher realms of occult knowledge. Let that stand before us as an ideal. It is hard of attainment. When one reflects how intimately men are bound up with their religious prejudices and with the whole way in which they have been educated, one will readily perceive the difficulty of presenting them with something that is not coloured with any religious prejudice but is as faithful a picture as possible of occult knowledge.

Within certain limits we must be prepared to recognise that as long as the Buddhist takes the standpoint of the Buddhist faith, he rejects the standpoint of the Christian. And if theosophy takes on a Buddhist colouring, then that Buddhist theosophy will quite naturally show itself inimical, or at any rate unsympathetic, to occultism. We shall also understand how difficult it is, in a realm where Christian forms prevail, to come to an objective knowledge, let us say, of those aspects of occultism which find expression in Buddhism Our ideal, however, must always be to meet the one point of view with just as much understanding as the other and to establish over the whole earth a harmonious and peaceful relationship based on mutual comprehension.

The Buddhist and the Christian who have become theosophists will understand one another, they will be sure to discover a standpoint where they are in harmonious agreement. A theosophist has always before him the ideal of a universal single occultism, free of all religious prejudice. The Christian who has become a theosophist will understand the Buddhist when he says: “It is not possible that a Bodhisattva who has passed from incarnation to incarnation and has at length become Buddha (as happened in the particular case with the death of Suddhodana) should afterwards return again into a human body. For in becoming Buddha he has attained to such a lofty stage of human evolution that he does not need ever to pass again into a human body.” The Christian will reply to the Buddhist: “Christianity has not up to the present given me any revelation concerning Beings like Bodhisattvas, but as I strive after theosophy I learn to recognise not only that you know this truth out of your knowledge, but that I too must receive it as truth.” For as theosophist, the Christian will say to himself: “I understand what a Bodhisattva is, I know that the Buddhist speaks absolute truth about these Beings, he utters a truth which could be spoken in lands where Buddhism prevailed. I understand it when the Buddhist says that a Buddha does not return again into a fleshly organism.” The Christian who has become a theosophist understands the Buddhist who has become a theosophist. And if the Christian were now in his turn to address the Buddhist, he could say: “When one studies the Christian faith in its true occult content, as it is studied in occult schools, then one finds that the Being who is designated by the name of Christ”—the name of Christ may be quite unknown to the other—“is a Being who was never on earth before the time of the Mystery of Golgotha. He is a Being who can never come again in a physical body; for that would contradict the whole nature of the Christ.”

When the Buddhist who has become a theosophist hears this from the Christian, he will answer him in the following way: “Just as you understand how impossible it is for me to admit that a Buddha, after he has once become Buddha, can come again in a fleshly body,—just as you understand me, recognising what has been imparted to me as truth, so am I ready to recognise the share of truth that has been communicated to you. I try to recognise what you receive from your faith, namely, that at the beginning of Christianity stands, not so much a Teacher, but a Deed, an Act.” For the occultist places at the beginning of Christianity not Jesus of Nazareth, but the Christ, and he sets the actual moment of its beginning in the Mystery of Golgotha.

Buddhism differs from Christianity in that it has a personal teacher as its starting-point, whereas Christianity has a deed, the deed of salvation and release, the deed accomplished by the death on the Cross on Golgotha. Not a doctrine but a deed stands at the foundation of Christian evolution. This the Buddhist theosophist understands, and he receives what is given as the occult foundation of Christianity and in doing so helps to establish harmony among mankind. He would be breaking the harmony if he were to apply to Christianity his Buddhist ideas. It is the part of the Christian, when he becomes theosophist, to understand Buddhism out of Buddhism itself, not to re-mould in some way of his own the ideas about Bodhisattva and Buddha, but rather to understand them as they are contained in Buddhism. Similarly it is the part of the Buddhist to receive the Christian ideas as they are, for they form the occult foundations of Christianity. Just as it is impossible to bring together the Being Who is named with the name of Christ with Beings of a lower kind, namely with Bodhisattvas, so also is it impossible, if we would remain loyal to the ideal of theosophy, to allow theosophy to be anything else than a faithful reflection of the single undivided occultism.

To apply the properties of a Bodhisattva to the Christ would be to hinder the great mission of peace that it is given to theosophy to fulfil. On the other hand, theosophy fulfils its mission of peace, when it undertakes to bring to mankind the universal foundations of truth in a scientific form such as is adapted for our day and generation. When we in the West understand Buddhism or Brahmanism or Zarathustrianism without prejudice, and when Christianity too is understood in the way it needs to be understood, then it will be possible for the really fundamental ideas of Christianity to find recognition and response among men.

Mankind has not always risen to the perception of the fact that a deed stands at the beginning of Christianity and that there can therefore be no question of a return of the Christ. Again and again it has happened in the course of the centuries that men have come forward and spoken of a return of the Christ. Such teachings have always been silenced and refuted, and they will be so again, for they run counter to the great and universal mission of life and peace that it belongs to theosophy to fulfil, if it would be a pure expression of occultism. Occultism has always had the character of universality and is independent of every Buddhist as well as of every Christian shade of colouring. Hence it can understand objectively the Mussulman or the Zoroastrian or the Buddhist, even as it can also the Christian. What I have said will help you to see how it is that occultism, which is universal, has come to assume in theosophy so many different forms in the course of human evolution. And you will be able also to see why in our time it is so important to hold up as the ideal, not that one form of religion should gain the victory over the rest, but that all the different forms of expression of religion should mutually understand one another. The first condition for this, however, is that men should come to an understanding of the occult foundations that are the same for all religions.

My intention has been in this lecture to give a kind of introduction to the important matters we shall have to consider in the following days.

My dear Friends,

If now we would proceed to consider man from the three points of view—the occult, the theosophical and the philosophical—it will be necessary to speak first of the occult point of view. And we shall do best if we start by giving a description of how in the history of the evolution of mankind one or another human being has succeeded in raising himself to occult vision of the world.

As we said in the introductory lecture, there have naturally never been more than a few who were found ripe to partake in all that went on in the Mysteries and places of occult teaching and education. It is therefore of the development of these few that we shall have to speak.

It will, however, also have been clear to you from many other lectures I have given that we stand now at a point in time when through the popularising of theosophical knowledge more and more people will have to take part in occult life, instead of the very few who have done so in the past. So that what we have to consider today concerns everyone who takes an interest in theosophy and realises that occult knowledge—the knowledge, that is, of the hidden aspects of existence—must no longer remain secret, but must spread farther and farther, in accordance with the demands of a continually developing humanity.

A man who set out to attain occult knowledge had in the first place to turn his gaze away from the external world and direct it upon the forces of his own soul. Since he had, however, at the same time to remain a man of action in the external world, his occult development was, so to say, his own affair, was a matter that concerned himself alone In the world he continued to be a man among men, with all the duties that life had brought to him. This fact found striking expression in the very first step he had to take for the development of his soul forces. For the first thing the pupil had to do may be described in the following words he had to reconcile himself to his karma in respect of all that concerned his will. Reconciliation with karma (or destiny)—that was the first thing demanded of a man who was undergoing occult development.

Please do not imagine that such a reconciliation with one's karma necessitates the forming of a comprehensive theory about karma what is meant is much more a particular kind of culture and education of the life of feeling. Think how it is with a man who is beginning on a path of occult development Before the moment of time when he makes this beginning, he has lived in the world as a man among men. He has acquired a certain standing in life, he has made himself master of certain thoughts which enable him to carry out satisfactorily the external actions that his calling demands. He has also come to recognise certain duties or obligations that custom and society have laid upon him. It can at the very outset be assumed that any man who has not responded to what the world demanded of him, any man, that is, who does not want loyally to fulfil his obligations to the world around, would never have the urge to undergo occult development In fact, as a general rule, those who could be called to occult development were men who showed great ability in the positions in which life had placed them and who were also desirous of being in every respect equal to the obligations laid upon them by custom and society. The capacities and faculties a man shows in his position in life, the round of duties also that he recognises as incumbent upon him,—these are the very things that constitute karma in the positive sense. Here a man's karma comes to expression. And the first demand made upon a man who was preparing to step outside the bounds of his position in life as such and enter upon an investigation of the spiritual world, was that he should not in any way deviate from the karma of his life, but maintain it untouched. This meant that he made a promise, to himself and to those who were assisting him to penetrate into the occult world, not to make use in his outer standing in life of whatever should be acquired in the field of occult research. His will and action had to be so directed that others who were observing him would not be aware of any marked difference in the whole behaviour of his life since he had begun to take steps on the path of occult research. The power given him in occult research must never be allowed to interfere in the external life of the physical plane. This is what is meant by “reconciliation with karma.” The pupil forgoes all advantages that might be gained by occult means for his position in life.

We shall find that a right and regular following of the path does, as a matter of fact, lead often to a certain improvement in the pupil's external standing in life. This, however, has nothing to do with the obligation that has to be deliberately undertaken by one who sets out on the occult path. “You shall not attempt to make any use of your occult development to acquire an advantage over those who stand with you in life, but you shall direct your life in accordance with the very same rules which you have followed hitherto.” Such was the injunction constantly laid upon those who underwent occult development It was the first renunciation they were called upon to make,—to forgo all application to an egoistic end of the means acquired in occult life. What has just been said is intended to be taken quite exactly and literally; please receive the words as they stand, neither more nor less. You will observe that they are concerned with what the pupil is in a position to do, or is under obligation to do, in the external world by reason of the karma that is laid upon him.

From the very outset the egoistic will of man is thus consciously and deliberately excluded from all occult striving. This factor alone brings about a change in the whole mood and character of the pupil. If you reflect for a moment, you will see that this must be so. Hitherto the round of duties that devolve on him in his external position in life have been the one and only world in which he lived and to which he devoted himself. Now he takes upon himself the obligation to continue to live in this world in accordance with the same rules as he has followed hitherto, and yet at the same time to have forces to spare for something else quite different. This means that a boundary is set up for him between two regions within both of which he is active. A world now opens before him to which he previously never gave a thought. That is a fact of extraordinary importance. For verily man begins a new chapter in his life, when fresh interests suddenly enter and assert themselves strongly and persistently.

This then was what happened at the very beginning of occult development; a man's whole feeling and interest were claimed for a new world, a world in which he had previously had neither part nor place. Strict watch had to be kept on the pupil, especially in the more ancient Mysteries and schools of occult development, lest he be brought into any disharmony with his circle of external interests. It was sternly required of him to fulfil his duty in the widest sense in respect of the demands made by his calling or by his connection with the State or other form of community. Those who made any show of not being willing to do this or of rebelling against the duties of external life were not admitted into places of occult instruction. I am here simply relating facts. Study the history of occult development, and you will find that those who in outer life showed themselves rebellious in one direction or another against the whole ordering of life within which they lived were not members of any Mystery school or place of occult instruction.

The second thing required of the pupil was far more difficult of attainment. Consider the case of a man who has given himself and his teachers the promise of which we have spoken. He has had to declare: “I will not suffer to enter into my will, as it makes itself felt on the physical plane, anything that has come to me as a result of occult research.” He takes with him into the realm of occult research the entire forces of his soul, with the exception of the will. The will is held back in accordance with his promise; but every other faculty that he has at his disposal on the physical plane—judgment, fancy and imagination, memory, emotions,—all these forces and faculties of the soul with which he was previously active on the physical plane, can still be actively applied on that plane.

Take the intellect or understanding,—that capacity of the soul which enables us to discriminate and to form judgments about the facts of life. We could not get on without it in ordinary life; we have to apply it at every turn. Now let us suppose we become a member of an occult society or school. We achieve certain results in occult research; we acquire, let us say, knowledge about what we do in our external standing in life. We are not allowed to apply this knowledge with our will. But to begin with, there is nothing to prevent us from calling in the help of all the higher means we have from occult research in order to make intelligent observation of the things and persons that we meet with on the physical plane. Thus, we may not allow the results of occult research to flow into our action or into the resolves of our will, but we may allow occult research to have its influence upon the way we form our thoughts and conclusions on the kingdoms of nature as well as on our fellowmen,—in effect, upon the whole way in which we stand in the ordinary world with our intellect.

You will observe that a rigid self-discipline will here be necessary. What is easier for a man who meets other men and has to take active part in their lives than to apply what he knows? Suppose, for example, he is able by the help of his intellect to perceive that he has to do with a morally inferior person, nothing is easier than that he should act accordingly. It would be the natural and obvious thing to do.

The occultist, however, may not take this line. By means of what occult research gives him he can, it is true, give wings to his understanding and have clearer insight than he could before into the character of a fellowman, can recognise perhaps that he is a morally inferior person; he can also regulate accordingly what he does to this person, for he has accepted no obligation in regard to his fellowman but only in regard to his own standing in life. He is under no necessity to refrain from applying his will in respect of what he does for the other person. What he does, however, on his own behalf,—for that he is under obligation to be reconciled with his karma and not to make use of the knowledge that accrues to him when he applies his intellect, reinforced with the means of occult research.

Let us suppose an actual case of a man who is at the stage of which we are speaking. Had he not become an occultist, he would perhaps have met the other person and not recognised him to be morally inferior,—with the result that he would have allowed himself to be taken in by him. Obviously such things can and do happen in the world, as you will all be ready to admit. One can be mistaken and take a man for better than he is, and then find oneself deceived.

The occultist has here an advantage He is able to recognise the moral inferiority of the person in question. But he has for the time being—please note the words—he has for the time being put himself under obligation not to apply this occult knowledge with his will, that is to say, not to apply it to his own standing in life. He has to know that the other is a morally inferior man and at the same time to conduct himself exactly as before; he has to put up with all the ways of the other just as though he had never acquired occult knowledge about him.

Here you have a striking illustration of the rigid self-denial a beginner in occultism has to practise. He must draw a sharp line of distinction between what he can know without occult research and what comes to him through occult research and might give him an unfair advantage in life. He who is so fortunate—being blessed either with natural talents or with particularly favourable conditions of life—as to recognise, without being an occultist, the moral inferiority of the other person, is inclined to consider the occultist a fool, because he waives any advantage that might accrue to himself from the knowledge. And this frequently happens. Other people through some good fortune or other are able to perceive what the occultist also perceives, only does not act upon, being under obligation to refrain from doing so. You will constantly find this happen,—as you will also find it happen that one or another who has made the promise fails to keep it. That is, however, his own affair! We may, if we will, consider the occultist a fool because he lets someone else get the advantage of him, but we must not let that lead us to conclude that he has no means for perceiving the character of men.

We have then this second stage: forgoing the use of the will for our own egoistic ends, we apply our understanding in the external physical world. The occult teachers of olden times allowed their pupils to remain rather long at this stage. For a considerable time the pupils had to go through the world learning to observe more deeply and with increasing penetration and insight not only their fellowmen but also the other kingdoms of nature, and yet all the time continuing to walk the path of ordinary life in exactly the same way as before. This meant they had to practise a very severe self-discipline, for they must learn never to place into the service of egoism the advantages their mind and spirit afforded them. Nor was this all; the whole experience brought them a step further in another direction as well.

When, after the intellect has spoken, the will comes behind and adds the action which is the natural sequence of what the intellect has said, then this intellect does not evolve nearly so much as when it is used by itself, completely isolated from the sphere of the will. If a man excludes himself as a being of will and egoism from a realm into which he enters by applying his intellect and understanding to the whole surrounding world, then he becomes increasingly able to detect fine differences. His understanding grows subtle and delicate. His faculty of judgment and discrimination grows steadily stronger.

The pupil has now absolved the second stage of occult development, the stage we may call the “cultivation of the will-emancipated understanding,” and is ready to go on to the next.

Having for a long time applied his understanding with all keenness and insight, the pupil must then begin to renounce even the use of this understanding. This step is a very difficult one. The pupil has to understand and judge as he did before he became an occultist. In respect of the objects of the external physical plane he must use only the power of understanding and judgment which he had previously. All that he has acquired on the occult path in the way of deeper understanding and that has brought him untold good and has meant a definite advance for his spirit,—all this he has now to shut out of his spiritual activity; he may only handle matters of quite ordinary knowledge. That which he has striven after so keenly and energetically for a long time, namely, the strengthening of his understanding, he must lay aside, he must absolutely root it out of his soul, in so far as conscious application of it is concerned, and say to himself: As I go about and fulfil my life on the physical plane, I must think and judge and discriminate as I did before my occult development, using only the degree of cleverness to which I had then attained. The pupil has, so to speak, to force himself to be again as stupid as he was before his understanding was sharpened.

What becomes of the understanding which he has now forgone? He must not now apply it. He has done so for a long time, but he may do so no more. What becomes in any case of the results of our power of judgment and understanding when we refrain from putting them to direct use? They pass over into memory. This is the next step. All the knowledge gained by the sharpening of the power of intellect has to become memory. The pupil must not advance any further in the cultivation of his intellect, he must also refrain from applying his strengthened intellect, must not desire to gain with his intellect any further knowledge about the connections of the world. That which he has already acquired by means of his strengthened understanding, he must look for in his memory; ever and again it must rise up in memory. He shall endeavour to bring it about that the knowledge he has gained becomes like the thoughts he had, say ten or twenty years ago,—thoughts he no longer thinks, but only remembers.

In occult schools such as the school of Pythagoras in olden time, and in many a Mystery school of Asia Minor, the selection of pupils was very strict. Only those were considered ripe who could be trusted to keep the vow not to let flow into their egoistic will the results of the cultivation of the intellect. They were then educated for a very long time in the cultivation of the intellect. In all possible ways they were shown first how to distinguish things and then how to combine and connect them again, and they developed a keener sense of discrimination than it is possible to attain in ordinary life. The greatest importance was attached in rightly conducted schools of ancient and medieval times to this cultivation through long periods of time of the power of judgment.

Then the pupil has to make this further, second renunciation. He has to vow to himself and to his teacher that he will cease to judge any more the things he sees on the physical plane, cease to employ in regard to them the power of judgment he has acquired with his understanding. Nor may he indulge in a critical attitude to the teachings imparted to him. All he may do is to compare what he receives from his teacher with what he has himself previously acquired through his own power of judgment. He must not make any criticism, he must be no more than a listener who compares what he now hears with what he has himself acquired with his sharpened intellect. Such is the requirement of the next stage of occult development, which may be called the “elimination of the sharpened power of the intellect and the restriction of the inner soul life to memory.” Fancy and imagination were still allowed play; these might reproduce the remembered ideas and opinions in symbols and in imaginative pictures.

Memory and fantasy—these two powers of the soul came as it were, into their own, and were able to manifest in their full effectiveness. For now they stood alone, forming as it were a pure distillate out of the rest of the soul life, instead of being perpetually influenced and counselled by the judgment of the intellect.

Therewith had the pupil taken a further step in occult development. The time he had to pass in this stage was generally spent in receiving communications, in the form of ideas, of the recognised truths of occultism in so far as these had already become a theosophy. The pupils stood there with such forces as they had already acquired by the exercise of their power of judgment, remembering what they had learned and at the same time opening themselves to the influence of what was imparted by their teachers.

It goes without saying that the length of time passed in this stage of development varied very much in the several Mystery schools, according as it was thought necessary for the general requirements of human evolution to impart more or less of occult secrets to those who were undergoing occult development in order to fit them to become leaders of mankind. For the most part, however, this stage of development took quite a considerable time.

The next task to which the occult pupil had to address himself was to summon up all his strength in an endeavour to extinguish and wipe out of consciousness even the memories and the symbolic paintings of the fancy, as well as also the ideas—be it noted!—he had acquired by his own efforts. This was in truth a task of quite peculiar difficulty, and it is, ordinarily speaking, impossible to conceive how a pupil could shoulder successfully such a task. You will be the better able to imagine that a pupil could master such a task—namely, to pour out complete forgetfulness over all that he had acquired by his own powers—when you take into consideration that such pupils had already learned to curb and restrain their wills, had already practised the severe self-discipline we have described. For when, instead of allowing the will free play, they were obliged to keep it under strict restraint, they acquired thereby great reserve forces in the will. It was literally so. For a man grows stronger and stronger in his soul, when he is in this way compelled to restrain his will outwardly and allow nothing whatever of the results of spiritual development to flow into it. It makes him so strong that he becomes at last able to take the great resolve to repress and obliterate from consciousness all that he has acquired in his occult training and has up to now been holding in remembrance. As one erases an idea that one cannot make use of in life, so has all this to be entirely erased. Such was the unconditional demand.

You are not to imagine that those who were occult pupils in this sense became blind followers of their teachers, receiving on authority all that was imparted to them. That was by no means the case. Easy believers in authority are generally also those who in a light kind of way apply at once their perfectly ordinary intelligence to pronounce judgment on what they hear. But those who have first sharpened their power of judgment and then, holding only in remembrance what they have acquired by it, have let occult instruction work upon them through the medium of memory and of fantasy, will most assuredly be no easy believers in authority, rather will they receive what occult instruction imparts in the same way as we receive what Nature tells us. Such will be the attitude of the occult pupil to the instruction that is now given to him, after he has passed through the previous stages.

The teachers themselves also took care that their words should work in the way that Nature works; there was accordingly no need to charge their pupils to have this or that opinion or thought. It was actually so that the pupils, after all they had undergone in the development of their powers of understanding and discrimination, met the words of their teachers as we meet, shall I say, a sunrise, or a wind-swept sea or some other natural phenomenon, which we observe with the desire to learn all we can about it,—not approaching it critically, for then we would never grow really acquainted with it. Those know least of all the inner power and might of a phenomenon in Nature who approach it with sympathy or antipathy. In the very same way in which one observes Nature herself did the occult pupil now observe what was given to him in occult instruction.

When the pupils have continued in this experience for a while, allowing only memory and fantasy to be active within them, applying their understanding to their external calling in life and to that alone, a time comes when they have to enter on a period of inner quiet and rest. They must forget their own powers and destroy their own attainments. For they can only attain complete inner rest of soul when even the memories and imaginations that they have acquired during their occult training are blotted out of consciousness.

The soul had to be made empty; and then, when it was empty, when the egoistic will and the egoistic understanding, and also the egoistic memory and the egoistic fancy were all driven out,—then an absolutely new world opened before the soul. There had first to be this emptying in order that the new world might be able to find entrance into the soul.

You must familiarise yourselves with the fact, that really and truly it was a new world that penetrated into the empty soul,—an altogether new world! You will, therefore, not be surprised if this world has strange qualities and characteristics. For what do we mean by strange? We call a thing strange when we find it contradicts our previous experience. Look around you in the world today and observe how often when some statement is made, people reject it right away. What reason do they give? They say: “That statement is contradictory.” What they mean is that according to the power of judgment they have so far been able to attain, they find the statement to be in contradiction to everything else they know; they then jump to the conclusion that they have scored a point over the man who has put forward the statement, just because they can point to a contradiction in it.

It is a fact that when one begins to speak quite openly of things, it always has the result that people point to contradictions and declare that what has been said must necessarily be false, because it contains a contradiction. We need to recognise that on this path we shall indeed meet with contradictions, for we are approaching something that cannot possibly have any similarity with the world that has been ours hitherto; we shall have to reconcile ourselves to complete and utter contradictions when this new world approaches us, for it can only be described in ideas which must needs appear to us as contradictory. It is inevitable that this should be so; the new world would not be a new world if it were in complete harmony with the old and never contradicted it in any way!

It should therefore not surprise us that when we come to describe the world man enters when he attains the peace of soul which follows the stage of forgetfulness, the first characteristic can only be given in words that, from the point of view of the world to which we are accustomed, are directly contradictory.

There are three things man finds when he has come to the stage we have described,—three things that can only be characterised by making use of expressions that are in themselves contradictory when regarded from the point of view of what man knows of the external world. These three things man learns to know when he really enters what we may call the super-sensible world.

The first is the unmanifest light. Look around you in the world! Can you not see light everywhere? It is of the very nature of light to reveal itself and be manifest. And yet the first thing man learns to know in the super-sensible world is the light that is unmanifest and unrevealed, the light that is dark and does not shine.

The second thing man learns to know in the super-sensible world is the unspoken word. In the ordinary world a word that is unexpressed is not a word. We have therefore again a complete contradiction in terms when we say that the second thing man learns to know in the super-sensible world is the unspoken word.

The third is the consciousness without any known object. Reflect how, when you develop a consciousness, when you know, you must have always an object of knowledge. But the consciousness we find as the third thing to be met with on entering the super-sensible world is a consciousness without object.

These then are the three things the pupil encounters when, having undergone the preparation we have described, he enters right into the realm of occultism. These are the first three actual occult things he learns to know:

The unmanifest light,
The unspoken word,
The consciousness without knowledge of an object.

It is a moment of the very greatest significance for the occult pupil when he can learn to unite a meaning with what appears to be in entire contradiction to all he has known hitherto. When he is able to unite something of his own inner experience with the three ideas of the “unmanifest light,” the “unspoken word” and the “consciousness without knowledge of an object,” then he has in that moment become an occultist; the pupil in occultism has really begun to tread the path of occult knowledge.

My dear Friends,

IT was related yesterday how the pupil of occultism, when he has gone through the preparation of which we spoke, meets with experiences which cannot be otherwise described than with words that apparently contradict one another. We named three such experiences: the unmanifest light, the unspoken word, and the consciousness without knowledge of an object.

It is no easy matter to form clear ideas of these three experiences. The thinking of ordinary life and the researches carried out on the ordinary paths of knowledge and more especially in natural science, are closely connected with the physical body. True, the physical body is not the really active principle in human research, but it is the instrument man has necessarily to employ when he wants to acquire knowledge of the external objects in his surroundings. Everyday knowledge and more especially scientific knowledge can be acquired in no other way than through the instrument of the body, and in particular of the brain.

When, however, the pupil in occultism undergoes the experiences of which we spoke yesterday, he comes to a point where he is able to think without using his brain, To a materialist of today such a statement will of course seem absurd. It is nevertheless true. The occultist himself is assured of it from inner experience. All the knowledge and thought about external objects that can be attained in the pursuit of ordinary science are indeed shadowy and lifeless in comparison with the forms and pictures elaborated by the soul when it is free of the physical brain.

Speaking to theosophists, I may cut the matter short and say at once that a man who has succeeded in becoming free of the instrument given him with his physical body, makes use of his etheric and astral bodies and of his ego organism. That is to say, he uses other members of his being, with which we have become familiar in theosophy.

What now arises in the soul has a much greater inner power and is far more inwardly alive than the thoughts we are accustomed to form about external objects. It gives us moreover the feeling of being surrounded on every side by a kind of fine substantiality, which one can only describe by saying that it is like flowing light. You must not, however, think of the light which is communicated through the eye, that is to say, through an external bodily instrument, but imagine rather that this substance which surrounds us like a surging sea is felt and experienced inwardly It does not manifest in any sort of shining, but we experience it inwardly, and the intensity of the experience is such as to banish all feeling we might otherwise have of being in a nothingness.

The man who actually finds himself within this element will certainly not say he is in a nothingness, for it has an astounding effect upon him, unlike anything he has ever experienced hitherto. He feels as though it would tear him to pieces and scatter him throughout space,—or we might also put it, as though he were going to melt away and be dissolved, or again as though he were losing the ground from under his feet, as though all external material support were falling from him. That is the first experience,—flowing spiritual light, without any outward manifestation at all. It is the first inward experience with which every aspirant after occultism has to become familiar.

And now if the pupil is rather weak in nature and has not been accustomed to think much in life, he will at this point get into difficulties. Indeed, he will hardly be able to find the way further unless he has learned in life to think. This is the reason for the preparation of which we spoke yesterday, the long practice and development of a sublime intellect and power of judgment. It is not what we acquire through these in the outward sense that is of so much importance, it is the discipline we undergo in learning to think more keenly and clearly. This discipline now comes to our aid when we enter, as aspirants after occultism, into the element of flowing light; for not the thoughts themselves are effective here, but the powers we have attained for self-education by means of the thoughts. These powers go on working, and presently we have around us something more than flowing hidden light; forms begin to emerge,—forms of which we know that they do not come from the perception of external objects, but have their origin in the element in which we ourselves are immersed.

If we reach this point, then we do not lose ourselves in the flowing light, but experience in it forms that are far more alive than the forms seen by any dreamer or visionary. At the same time they have in them nothing whatever of the nature of external perceptions. The qualities we perceive in outward things by means of the senses are completely absent; but we do find in these forms in enhanced measure what we otherwise only experience when we make for ourselves thoughts. And yet the thoughts that come to us now are no mere thoughts, but forms that have being and are strong and secure in themselves.

This is the first experience for the aspirant after occultism, and it continues and grows stronger and stronger in the course of his occult life. At first it is weak, at first we have to be content with a small and limited experience. Then more is given to us, gradually we learn more and more, until we come at last to experience a world that we recognise as being behind the world of the senses. A remarkable fact is brought home to us at this point. The forces that can enable us to have such an experience are not to be found anywhere within the compass of Earth life, nor are they subject to Earthly laws. At the same time we observe that our capacity for thinking about the affairs of ordinary life and about natural science, has on the other hand been developed in us by forces that do belong entirely to the Earth.

As you know, before man attained to his present form and figure, he underwent a great many transformations. During this time of change and development, the forces of the Earth worked upon him. Gradually, little by little, the brain and the sense organs received the forms they have today. If we were to set out to explain the eye or the ear or even the brain itself, as they are today, we should have to say that at the beginning of Earth evolution all these organs were totally different. During Earth evolution the forces of the Earth have worked upon them and endowed them with the form they have today. When we think about the affairs of everyday life, as well as when we carry out investigations in the method of natural science, we use what the brain and the sense organs owe to the forces of the Earth. The activity we develop in such thinking contains nothing that has not been contributed by the forces of the Earth. The ordinary human being who sees the things around him and reflects upon them, the scientist too, who studies and works in his laboratory or observatory, make use of nothing in brain or sense organs that does not derive its origin from the forces of the Earth.

That development, however, of our brain that enables us, by working upon it, to bring forth the higher members of our nature and to behold the flowing spiritual light, has not its source in Earthly conditions but is in an inheritance from forces that worked upon man before the Earth became Earth. You will remember that before the Earth became Earth, it passed through conditions known as Moon, Sun and Saturn. The forces which make man capable of perceiving with his senses and of permeating his perceptions with thought, do not come from those past states of the Earth. But everything that sets us free from the working of the senses and of natural scientific thinking, and makes us capable of bringing forth higher members within us, as it were straining the brain to its utmost and pressing forth the etheric and astral bodies and ego until these are able to live in the flowing light,—all this we bear in us as an inheritance from the times of Saturn, Sun and Moon; it comes to us from pre-Earthly times of evolution and is nowhere to be found within the whole circumference of Earth existence.

When science comes to the point (and it will do so, though it take a long time on the way)—comes to the point of understanding the mechanism of the senses and of the brain, it will be extraordinarily proud of the achievement. But even then it will only be able to grasp the thinking and investigating that can be accounted for out of Earthly conditions and that accordingly hold good for Earthly conditions alone. Man will never, so long as he restricts himself to the forces of the Earth, be able to explain the whole brain, nor all the apparatus and arrangements of the sense organs, for, in order to give a full explanation of the activities in brain and senses and of how they came to have their present forms, we must look back to what are called the Saturn, Sun and Moon conditions of the Earth. The forces that are active in man when he is not using his senses and his brain,—the forces, that is, that he inherits from Saturn, Sun and Moon—have been paralysed and held in check by what the Earth with her forces has made of the brain and senses.

When we enter the flowing light, we do not feel as feel as though we were thinking what we find there. For when we are thinking a thought we have the impression we are thinking it now; whereas what we experience in the flowing light does not at all give us the feeling we are thinking it now. It is most important to note this point. To the clairvoyant who enters into this condition, the forms of which I spoke do not seem like thoughts he is thinking now, but like thoughts that have been preserved in the memory, like thoughts one is able to call up into remembrance.

You will now understand why we have to ignore our intellect and quicken and strengthen our power of memory. Out of this wide spiritual sea of light, forms emerge which are only perceptible in the way that we apprehend memories. If our memory power had not undergone a strengthening, these forms would escape us and we should perceive nothing; it would be as though there were all around us nothing but a flowing sea of inward light. That we can perceive thought-forms swimming in the sea of inner light, is due to the fact that we are able to perceive not with the intellect but with a strengthened power of memory; for these forms can only be perceived by means of the faculty of memory.

Nor is this all. What is perceived with the faculty of memory enables us to look back into long past conditions of evolution, into Moon, Sun and Saturn stages of evolution; but the forms we perceive in this way and that are like the pictures of memory, are not the only thing. In fact, they make a less powerful impression upon us than something else, something of which we could say—notwithstanding that we know quite well it is no more than a surging sea of light—that it gives us pain and pleasure that it begins even to sting and burn us, and on the other hand to fill us with bliss.

What does the occultist discover here? In the surging sea of light he has come to perceive strange forms; these he is able now to grasp with the understanding. They do not, as at first, lay claim only to the faculty of memory; they have become so powerful that the understanding can grasp them. How do they strike him? What does he notice about them? As a matter of fact the occultist does not notice anything particular in these forms unless he has previously interested himself in the thoughts of philosophy. Then he recognises that the thoughts of the philosophers are in reality shadows pictures of what he is now perceiving with the eye of the spirit in the surging sea of light. Yes, the moment has come when we can at last learn what philosophy really is. All the philosophy in the world is nothing else than thoughts and ideas which are like reflections thrown up into our physical life, pictures whose origin is in the super-sensible life which the clairvoyant can perceive in the way we have described. The philosopher himself does not see what lies behind his pictures, he does not know what it is he is thus casting up into physical consciousness. He has only the pictures. But the occultist can point to their origin, he can point to the origin of the great thoughts of all the philosophers who have ever played a part in the history of man. The philosopher sees only the shadow picture in thought, the occultist sees the real and living light that is behind. How can this be?

The reason is that in our brain we have still something left of pre-Earthly forces, forces that come from the Saturn, Sun and Moon stages of evolution. Generally speaking, these forces have to a large extent been paralysed in us, but we have in the brain some small remnant at least of what the brain is capable of, by virtue of these forces. The forces that work in the brain of a philosopher are not Earthly forces. They are a dim and weak reflection of pre-Earthly forces. The philosopher is quite unconscious of the fact, but in his brain lives an inheritance from pre-Earthly times, and the use he makes of his brain depends on the working of this inheritance. It would not, however, be able to work at all, had not a particular event taken place during Earth evolution, an event which the philosopher of modern times is of course quite unprepared to accept. If the Earth had been simply the re-incarnation of what had been present in Saturn, Sun and Moon, if it had been able to give man no more than the forces it had living in it from the time of Saturn, Sun and Moon, then there could never have arisen on Earth such a thing as contemplation, the kind of reflective thought that we find in such a marked degree in philosophy. And philosophy, you know, is really present in every single human being; everyone philosophizes a little. Philosophy is only possible on Earth because an irregularity crept in when the re-incarnation of our Earth took place. An important portion of the creative forces which brought our Earth into being was diverted; these forces did not continue to work in the same way as the rest, and they now have a spiritual influence upon man that is like the physical influence of moonlight upon the Earth.

The effect of moonlight, as you know, is due to the fact that the moon casts back the light of the sun. Moonlight is reflected sunlight. Now the fact that man is able to transcend the mere memory picture of clairvoyance and, as it were, to throw something up into physical existence which makes its appearance there as philosophy, is dependent on a particular spiritual force that works plastically into the human brain, forming it and moulding it. In the Mosaic books of the Bible this spiritual force is named Jahve or Jehovah; it is a reflected light of the Spirit, just as in a physical aspect moonlight is reflected sunlight.

In respect of his brain, therefore, man cannot be entirely explained out of the inheritance he has brought with him from pre-Earthly conditions. We can only understand the human brain when we know that just as the physical light of the sun is thrown on to the Earth by the moon (at a time when the sunlight itself is not shining on that part of the Earth) so man, in so far as he lives in his brain, receives spiritual light thrown back from beyond the Earth.

Every inspiration man receives, not from his own forces, but from beyond himself, helps him to rise to a knowledge of the world which may be described as philosophical. A philosophical comprehension of the world is one that causes man to seek in all the various things of the world a single and undivided foundation. That is the characteristic of philosophy. Whether man calls this Ground of the World “God” or “World Spirit” is of no moment; the desire he feels to gather up everything together and relate it all to a single Ground, is due to influences of the spiritual world which are active in his brain. The moment he becomes clairvoyant and sets free his ether body, he recognises that not only has he now succeeded in making active what he has inherited from earlier stages of evolution, but in his brain influences are at work which may be compared with the influences of moonlight, in the sense we have already explained.

At this point I would like to draw your attention to a fact about philosophy that will, I think, be clear to you from all we have been considering.

As philosopher, man has not that which the clairvoyant perceives as Yogi force and which blends in with the forces inherited from earlier times. He has, however, the thought pictures, not knowing that behind them stand the forces which were active in Pre-Earthly conditions, and which are called the Jahve forces. This he does not know. He sees only the shadow pictures of thought which have been created for him by the work of his ether body upon the flowing light for as the flowing light becomes active in his brain, thought shadow-pictures are produced there and these we call philosophy. The philosopher himself knows nothing of the process; he knows only that he lives in these thought pictures. I want you, however, to note—it will be useful to you later on—that as philosopher man is unconsciously clairvoyant. That is to say, he lives in shadow pictures of clairvoyant states, without himself knowing anything of clairvoyance. He lives in these shadow pictures, he achieves with them all that a philosopher can achieve and at last comes to a point where he can connect and combine the philosophical ideas and conceptions he has elaborated, relating them all to one single Being or Entity. For that is the invariable characteristic of philosophy. It is, however, not possible to find within these thought pictures the Christ Being. By working in all honesty and sincerity with the material of philosophy, we find one single Ground of the World, but we never find a Christ. If you come across the idea of Christ in a philosophy, you may be quite sure it has been borrowed from tradition; it has been imported,—inconsistently, though perhaps quite unconsciously. If the philosopher remains at his philosophy, he cannot possibly find any more than the neutral God of the Worlds; he can never find a Christ. No consistent philosophy can contain the conception of Christ. It is impossible. Let us be quite clear on this point. Let anyone who has the desire and the opportunity to do so cast his eye round among the philosophers and see whether these can find the Christ in their philosophies. Take, for example, such a widely and fully developed system of philosophy as that of Hegel. You will find that Hegel cannot approach the Christ within the system of philosophy. He has as it were to bring Him in from the world outside; his philosophy does not give him the Christ.

For the time being, we will let this suffice for a description of the first experience the aspirant for clairvoyance undergoes, an experience he learns to designate as “unmanifest light.”

Gently and slowly—scarcely perceptibly, to begin with—the second experience comes upon him. There are indeed many clairvoyants who have had the first experience for a long time and still hardly understand what the second experience is. The effect of its approach may be described in the following way. Whilst the flowing light is something that makes us feel we are being scattered in it, makes us feel we are, as it were, being spread abroad in space,—with the second experience, which can be called the experience of the “unspoken word,” we have the feeling as though something were coming towards us from every direction at once.

In the same degree to which in the first experience we feel ourselves spread out over the whole world, do we now have the impression of something coming toward us, approaching us on all sides, while we ourselves are like to dissolve away. For the man who has this experience and is not yet at home in it, the sense of melting away is accompanied by very great fear. Something bears down upon us from all around; it is as if an edge or skin of the world were approaching us. What this means for us we can express in no other way than by saying it is as though we were being addressed in a language very hard to understand, a language that is never spoken on Earth. No word that proceeds from human larynx can be compared with the speech we now experience. Only by thinking away from the spoken word everything that has to do with external sound, can we begin to form some idea of the great cosmic sounding that now bears down upon us on all sides. At first it makes but a faint impression upon us; then, as the power of occult learning and occult self-discipline increases, this perception of a spiritual world grows stronger and stronger.

As now with clairvoyant sight we behold approaching us from all sides this vast skin of the world,—and yet not at all like an external skin, but bearing down upon us like a mighty sounding of tones—we have a strange and remarkable feeling; and the fact that we have it is a sign to us that we are on the right path. We find ourselves thinking: “It is in very truth my own self that is approaching me; there for the first time is my own true self! Only apparently am I enclosed in my skin, when I live here in the physical body. In reality my being fills the world; and it is my own being that is now coming to meet me as I pass over into the occult state. It is coming toward me from all directions.” So does occult experience take its course,—first the expansion of the spiritual life, then again its concentration. And the latter we connect with a definite idea. For it comes to us like words,—sounding spiritually and full of deep meaning; and we form the conception of the “unspoken word,” the “unspoken language.”

Now we must go a step further. For even as man has a heritage out of pre-Earthly conditions that helps to form and fashion his brain, so has he also forces remaining from pre-Earthly conditions which work, not in his brain, but in his heart. The heart is a very complicated organ; and as in the brain not only Earthly but pre-Earthly forces are active (although in external study and research we make use, as we have seen, of the Earthly alone), so in the heart too we find an activity of pre-Earthly forces. Whatever man needs for the obtaining—of Earthly air and nourishment, whatever he needs for the care of his organism and for its maintenance in life—all this is given him in Earthly forces. But for man to be able to perceive what we have termed the “unspoken word,” not only have higher members of his being to be, as it were, pressed out of his brain, but also out of his heart.

It can happen that for a long time a man is able to perceive as clairvoyant the spiritual light, if he has pressed forth from his brain the higher members of his body. If, however, these higher members still remain firmly united with the heart, as they are in ordinary life, then we have a clairvoyant who is able to behold the flowing light (for that he can do with the help of the soul forces that have become free from the brain), but not able to apprehend the unspoken word. For we can only begin to hear the unspoken word when the higher, super-sensible members have been freed also from the heart. The capacity of the heart to do this, so that man can unfold a soul life that is not bound to the instrument of the heart, belongs to a higher heart organism. Our ordinary soul life on the physical plane is united with the organ of the heart. When men are able to set free the higher members of their body from the physical heart, they come to experience a life of soul that is connected with a higher organism than the physical heart of blood and muscle. When the pupil learns to experience, in his soul, forces of the heart that are higher than those connected with the physical heart, then he can in very truth attain knowledge of the unspoken word; it makes itself known to him, coming towards him on every hand. Thus, whilst the perception of the super-sensible light depends on the emancipation of man's higher being from the physical brain, the perception of the unspoken word depends on the emancipation of the higher members from the physical heart.

As there are persons who, without being themselves aware of the fact, have in them something of the pre-Earthly forces that formed and fashioned the brain, so are there also persons who have in them something of the pre-Earthly forces that formed and fashioned the heart. And they are much more numerous than is generally supposed. If there were not today those who not only have these ancient heritages in their being, but are moreover engaged in working upon them (we shall see later how this comes about), there would be no theosophists. You would not all of you be sitting here today! The reason why you are sitting here is simply this,—that at some moment in your life, when a theosophical book came into your hands or some truth out of theosophy was communicated to you in a lecture, immediately you became conscious of something of that ancient inheritance which you bear within you and which consists of forces that worked to form your heart before the Earth was created. The fact that what came to you through theosophy made a deep impression upon you, meant that it produced in you an experience similar to the philosopher's experience in his shadow pictures. You experienced the shadow pictures of what a clairvoyance of the heart, all unknown to you, was able to receive through the words that were spoken. In that moment you heard through the words, and what you heard was something quite wonderful; otherwise you would not have become a theosophist. For you the external word was but an echo, coming to you from without, of what the clairvoyant heart had itself investigated by means of pre-Earthly forces, an echo of what comes from the realm of occultism and had already been speaking to you in shadow pictures which you yourself could experience. Through the outer word you heard speak the inner word. In the spoken word you caught the echo of the word that cannot be spoken. Through the human language you heard what is spoken from out of divine worlds in the language of the Gods.

If those who today sincerely and honestly feel themselves drawn to the study of theosophy do not always know that a degree of clairvoyance is already active in them, then it is with them as it is with the philosophers who see the shadow pictures of their unconsciously clairvoyant brain and do not know the real nature of the thoughts in which they are living. The brain is more readily susceptible to Earthly forces and on this account more easily made into an Earthly organ; therefore men who in our time investigate the laws of Earth and occupy their brain with external knowledge so strengthen the Earthly parts of their brain that the super-Earthly brain is completely paralysed from within. But the heart is far less susceptible to the influence of the Earthly forces; on this account it is easier to find an approach to human souls through what theosophy brings down to men than through pure philosophy. Unless people allow the material interests of life to obstruct and hinder what can in this way speak to their hearts, they will always—and especially in our own time—be responsive to the truths of theosophy. The truths of theosophy can be understood by everyone, excepting only those who have become too deeply engrossed—whether theoretically or practically—in external material interests in one form or another. People who have allowed themselves to be caught and entangled in these interests until they have no feeling for anything beyond them,—these alone fail to comprehend theosophy. A mist spreads itself out, covering and hiding what should unfold from the heart when it is touched by theosophy.

Thus, in order to understand philosophy, we must have in us something that is responsive to the strange and singular forms of which we spoke earlier and that throws up shadow pictures of these forms; we must have trained our brain to think thoughts within which the higher super-physical forces can reflect themselves; And, as you know very well, this happens but rarely. In order to understand theosophy, we need no such preparation. To appreciate the truth of what may be derived from occult research, when the researcher has emancipated from heart and brain the higher forces, the spiritual members of his being,—for this, all that is required is that we do not have our attention diverted by external life. The very simplest person has forces that suffice for the understanding of theosophy. There is no need for a scientific education. Everyone, provided only that he does not meet them with preconceived judgments, can understand certain theosophical truths. For these theosophical truths are facts of occult research reflected, as in shadow pictures, in the ordinary experiences of life. They come from the unspoken word, which is “heard”—to speak metaphorically—when man has set free from the physical heart the higher members of his being, when, that is to say, he can live not only in a super-physical brain but in a super-physical organ of the heart.

To express in terms of scientific concepts and in correct logical language that which the super-physical heart can investigate,—for this it is of course essential that one is already familiar with scientific concepts. In theosophy, however, there is no such need. The most important theosophical truths can as a matter of fact be clothed in simple concepts; you know yourselves how little can suffice for an adequate understanding of the fundamental truths of theosophy. A very great deal of what we are often saying in lectures here is not said for the purpose of convincing simple-minded people; they can quickly follow and be with us. Wherever the heart and soul are healthy, this will always be so; everyone who has not been made ill by material interests will be with us. What is necessary, however, in our time is that theosophy should find protection from the unjust attacks of a science that deems itself justified. We have to place the simple, easily established theosophical truths before the world in such a way that they will themselves demonstrate their validity when men think subtly and with clarity and correctness. (This condition, please note, is indispensable.) Then to an unprejudiced and well-ordered thinking, it will become abundantly clear that there is no truth which contradicts theosophy. Such a thinking, however, is not only exceedingly rare, it is extraordinarily difficult of attainment. Preconceived ideas of external science are astonishingly widespread today, claiming to rest not, it is true, on personal authority but on an unassailable external authority which has no firm nor sure foundation.

We may often see how those who think they have a comprehensive knowledge of a particular branch of science, or even those who have made themselves familiar in a popular manner with some of its results, take for granted that their thinking is far enough advanced for them to be able to have insight into the relationship of theosophy to science. As a rule, however, such insight is quite beyond their reach. Clear and well-ordered thinking is by no means so common in our time as one might suppose. There are sciences which can be pursued today with a quite un-ordered thinking, with a thinking which has been developed within the narrow bounds of some specialised science and cannot pass beyond them.

Today, one can be in the literary world, one can be an author and publish books, without having developed one's thinking particularly! For as a rule people do not examine and see whether behind what is apparently a product of mental and spiritual ability, there exists any well-ordered and correct method of thought. People do not enquire into this today, simply because they have not at hand any means of detection. Yet it does not take much to be able to appraise thought; many people have the capacity as a kind of instinct, and a little acquaintance with occult research and occult forces will strengthen it.

Allow me in conclusion to relate an incident intended to serve as an illustration of the strange experiences that can happen to one, if one is a little sensitive to such things. It is all insignificant experience, but it illustrates my point.

I was walking yesterday along a certain street. My gaze fell, quite involuntarily, on a particular spot in a bookshop window. All at once I felt as though I had been stung,—really just as though a gadfly or a bee had stung me! Spiritually, that was how I felt. I was curious to know the cause. To begin with, I could find nothing in the shop window that could have stung me like that. But when I looked carefully, I saw a book lying there on which was a legend, intended, so it appeared, to vindicate the trend of thought in the book, the author meaning to describe with this saying his own attitude of mind. But why should it sting me? You will see presently. These were the words:

“Your speculative churl
Is like a beast which some ill spirit leads,
On barren wilderness, in ceaseless whirl,
While all around lie fair and verdant meads.”¹

and underneath was written “Goethe: Faust.”

But who says this in Faust? Mephistopheles says it! These are not the words to choose when you want to quote Goethe! They are words he puts into the mouth of Mephistopheles. And if they are quoted seemingly in honest approbation of their meaning, it argues a disorderly thinking, The author wants to cite Goethe; but inner reasons compel him to quote Mephistopheles,—that is, the devil. That shows me that something is amiss with his thinking. The sting I experienced came from the displaced and disordered thinking.

• 1. From Translation by Anna Swanwick.

My dear Friends,

We have now to give our consideration to the third experience in the super-sensible world,—the consciousness that holds sway there. But before we can do so, we must first take cognisance of something which everyone possesses but which not everyone takes the trouble to observe, namely, the ordinary consciousness of this world, the consciousness which is centred in the fact that man becomes aware of his ego, becomes aware of himself as a self-existent being having knowledge of the objects and beings around him.

This consciousness is an element in our life which we have to examine with particular care and accuracy, when we are considering occultism. For it is true to say that this consciousness, which we may call an ego-consciousness, is for the occultist that element in his life which he is in the greatest danger of losing when he passes over into the super-sensible worlds. A man who wants to penetrate into super-sensible worlds has to exercise extreme caution on this account, since the loss of this ego-consciousness, the cessation and suppression of it, is as dangerous as it is necessary! Here, you see, we have come again to a contradiction, but I have already told you how inevitable contradictions are in this realm.

If you will reflect a little upon the ego-consciousness, you will see that it is really the ground of your existence in yourself through the fact that you have an ego-consciousness, you are in your soul self-contained. When you are not using your senses, then, except when you are asleep, you must always be as it were together with yourself in your consciousness. The consciousness only sinks down into darkness when you fall asleep.

Now it does not require much thought to perceive that what we are accustomed to call the Divine, or the One and undivided Foundation of the Worlds, cannot be counted as forming part of this consciousness, for man loses this consciousness every evening when he goes to sleep and finds content of it again every morning. Everything he has in it in the evening when he falls asleep remains, and he is able on awakening to take up again the threads of his inner life where he dropped them when he fell asleep. It has all stayed as it was; only, man has had no knowledge of himself while he slept. The one Divine Ground of the World that maintains everything must, therefore, maintain also man's consciousness while he sleeps It must keep watch over man's nature, both when he wakes and when he sleeps.

From this it will be evident that man must necessarily think of the Divine Ground of the Worlds as outside the Earth consciousness within which he himself stands. Consequently man cannot by means of his own consciousness have any knowledge whatsoever of the Ground of the Worlds, This has naturally always meant that since with ordinary Earth consciousness man is unable to approach by his own efforts the things that belong to the Foundation of the Worlds, these things have had to come to him by means of what is called “revelation.” Revelations, and particularly the revelations of religion, have always been given to man, for the simple reason that he cannot find them within his own consciousness, in so far as it is the Earth consciousness. If he wants to establish a relationship with the Ground of the Worlds, if he wants to inform himself about the nature and being of the original Ground and Foundation of existence, he must receive a revelation. And revelation has come, as we know, again and again, throughout the evolution of mankind. When we look back into ancient pre-Christian times, we find many great religious teachers,—such, for example, as were called in the language of Buddha, Bodhisattvas; other peoples knew them by other names. These great teachers came among men and communicated to them what men were unable to discover by means of their Earth consciousness.

The question may here be asked: how did these religious teachers obtain knowledge of the things that lie behind human consciousness? You know very well that there has always been in the world what we call “initiation,” and all great religious teachers have had either to undergo initiation, that is to say, ultimately to ascend for themselves an occult path, or to receive teaching from initiates who have ascended the occult path and have come to a comprehension of the Divine, not with their Earth consciousness but with a consciousness that has gone beyond the Earth consciousness.

This was the origin of the religions of olden times. All the communications and revelations that men received in pre-Christian times from great teachers of mankind go back ultimately to such founders of religion,—initiates who had themselves experienced in super-physical conditions what they communicated to mankind. And in consequence the relationship of a religious man to his God is always of such a kind that he conceives of his God as a Being outside his world, a Being who is beyond and of whom he can by special means receive a revelation.

Unless man lifts himself up to initiation, he must necessarily maintain this attitude. He must feel himself to be standing here on Earth, surveying with his consciousness the things of Earth, and receiving from the founders of religion knowledge of the things that are outside the world of the senses and outside the world of the understanding, in a word, outside the world of human consciousness. This is how it has been with all religions, and in a certain respect we may say it is so still. We know, for example, that Buddhism is to be traced back to the great founder Buddha. And whenever the foundation of Buddhism is spoken of, it is always expressly stated that the Buddha attained to initiation and higher vision while under the Bodhi tree, which is only a particular way of expressing the fact that in the twenty-ninth year of his life he became able to look into the spiritual world and to reveal what he saw and learned.

What exactly is revealed is not for us of very great importance. It varied in accordance with man's need and capacity to receive. Take, for example, ancient Greece. In so far as ancient Greece received its religious ideas through the teaching of Pythagoras, we find again here the consciousness that Pythagoras has undergone an initiation and has consequently been able to bring down from spiritual worlds and incorporate into human consciousness what he saw to be right and necessary for the men who were on Earth at that time.

Such then is the relation of the religious man to the spiritual world; nor can we imagine it otherwise. Man and the divine world stand over against one another. Whether in that world man beholds a plurality of Beings or a unity, whether polytheism or monotheism is taught, need not concern us here. The important point is that man finds himself standing over against the divine world, which must be revealed to him.

This is also the reason why theology has made such a point of not allowing place in religious ideas for knowledge man acquires by himself. Such knowledge could only have been attained by undergoing inner development and rising into the spiritual worlds. It would thus imply a penetration into regions which theology—not religion as such, but theology—is most anxious to exclude from having any influence upon the religious conceptions of mankind. Hence the care that is taken in theology to warn man of two wrong paths that are to be avoided. One is the path that leads to theosophy, where man seeks to develop himself upward to his God, when he should only stand over against his God as a man, and the other, so say the theologians, is the path of mysticism,—although theologians themselves not infrequently make little detours into the regions both of theosophy and of mysticism. But religious people, people who are purely and simply religious, are to be distinguished not only from theosophists, but also from mystics; for the mystic too is quite different from the religious man. The religious man is essentially one who stands here on the Earth and establishes a relationship with a God who is outside his consciousness.

Now there are, as you know, other things in the soul of man besides what we have already touched on today. There is in the soul of man the life of thought, that makes use of the instrument of the brain. Inasmuch as man has his ordinary consciousness, he has of course also his brain and his world of thought. Consciousness cannot be there without them. Playing into what we may call human consciousness, we have the thoughts, the experiences man has when he makes use of the instrument of the brain. Religions have consequently always contained thoughts that employ the instrument of the brain, since one who is a revealer, a founder of a religion, can clothe the divine revelations in forms men will understand by making use of the instrument of the brain. Religion can however also be clothed in ideas which make use rather of the instrument of the heart. Any particular religion, therefore, may speak either more to the brain or more to the heart of man. If we make comparison between the various religions of the world, we find that some speak more to the understanding, to those experiences of man which are connected with the brain, while others speak rather to the ideas and feelings of the heart, appeal to the life of inner perception and feeling. This difference can readily be observed in the several religions. All religions have, however, this characteristic in common, that man maintains intact his ego-consciousness, he remains conscious as man. Here on Earth works the ego-consciousness, and upon it from without works what belongs to the nature of the divine super-sensible world.

All this is changed when a man becomes a mystic. For when a man becomes a mystic, then everything connected with ordinary Earth consciousness is thrown to the winds. What is so carefully guarded in religion, so long as it remains religion pure and simple,—namely, that a man stands on his own feet and confronts the divine world in full consciousness—breaks down in mysticism. Mystics, pre-Christian as well as Christian, have always done their best to break down the human consciousness. Their concern has ever been to take the upward path into the super-sensible worlds, that is to say, to come right out of ordinary human Earth consciousness, to transcend it. That is the characteristic of mysticism. It sets out to overcome ordinary consciousness and live its way into a state where self-forgetfulness supervenes. And then, if the mystic can come so far, self-forgetfulness passes on to self-annihilation, self-extinction. Essentially mystical states, raptures, ecstasies have all of them this end in view, to do away with the limitations of Earth consciousness, to grow out beyond them into a higher consciousness.

It is difficult to form a conception of the nature of mysticism because it shows itself in so many different forms. It will be good if at this point we consider some individual examples.

We will imagine that a mystic, in accordance with what I have just explained to you, feels called upon to suppress his ordinary ego-consciousness, to break it down and get beyond it. He will still have left of course the other experiences of the soul, the experiences man has by the use of the brain and the heart. The mystic tries to extinguish his consciousness, but he does not necessarily at the same time extinguish as well the experiences of brain and heart. The way opens here, as you see, for many different shades of mysticism. Let us consider what varieties are possible.

A mystic can have experiences of brain and of heart, while consciousness is extinguished. Then we can say of him that he goes out of himself in ecstasy, but that we recognise from the thoughts and feelings he still has that he has not obliterated what is thought and felt by the use of brain and heart. To discover mystics who can truthfully be reckoned in this category we have to go rather far back in history. We may find them among those who, after the founding of Christianity, endeavoured to rise to the divine Self with the help of the philosophy of Plato,—Neo-Platonists, that is, such as Iamblichus and Plotinus. In this class too, belongs Scotus Erigena, and if one does not hold too strictly to the definition but admits a mystic in whom the brain experiences outweigh the experiences of the heart, then we may include also Master Eckhart, These will then form class A; mystics who still admit experiences of brain and heart.

A second kind of mystic is one who shuts out not his consciousness alone, but in addition his brain experiences, retaining only the ideas and conceptions that are acquired by use of the instrument of the heart. We generally find that mystics of this order have no love for anything that is thought out. They want to exclude thought altogether as well as consciousness. What the heart can achieve,—that is all they will allow themselves to use for their development. Such mystics, although their endeavour is to overcome human consciousness, to go out beyond it in ecstasy, retain nevertheless a connection with their fellows through the fact that they base their relationship with the surrounding world on the experiences of the heart.

Picture to yourselves a mystic of this type,—an ecstatic whose desire and aim is to come out of himself, who loves to be in a state where he is entirely free from himself! Such a mystic will at once reject anything you set out to communicate to him which requires him to use his brain. He will have nothing to do with it. Whether what you have to say concerns the higher worlds or the world of external nature, it makes no difference; he will in either case reply that there is no need to know all that.

A mystic who is in this way connected with his surroundings through the heart alone is able to be of good service to mankind. But since all the experiences of the human soul he lets speak only the experiences of the heart, he will not find easily accessible the complicated ideas that are acquired on the path of occultism; to receive these one does need to do at any rate a little thinking!

It was a mystic of this kind who, when asked whether he would not like to have a Book of Psalms—for he never read the Holy Scriptures—made answer: “If a man once uses a Book of Psalms, he will very soon want a bigger book, and there is no telling what more he will want when he begins to desire after knowledge in the form of thoughts.” The same mystic had no wish to have thoughts even about Nature. He used to say: “Man can know nothing he does not know already.” With this gesture he put all knowledge from him. Here then was a mystic with experiences of the heart alone, belonging to our second category,—class B.

Now in the case of such a mystic you will find there is a kind of economy of his soul forces In so far as he makes no use of his understanding and his power of thought, to that extent his soul forces are, as it were, husbanded. Consciousness also he puts out of use. All this has an interesting result. For when he is in his ecstatic states, with human Earth consciousness shut off, then because he still perceives around him whatever he can see with his eyes and hear with his ears and so on, and yet does not want to comprehend his surroundings, not thinking there is any necessity so to do, such a mystic will have great forces to spare which enable him to feel in the surrounding Nature all the more.

As mystic, one can protect oneself entirely from theology; but Nature surrounds all mystics. A mystic of this kind however will have nothing to do with any knowledge even about Nature. In this way he saves up the forces he would otherwise use in reflecting upon Nature in thought. He rejects all study of the Science of Nature. But the forces of the heart,—these he uses, and they will be able to develop all the more strongly. He will feel through the instrument of the heart all that the Being of Nature can say to him, and he will feel it more powerfully than a man who uses up his soul forces for his intellect and self-consciousness. Consequently we shall expect to find in a mystic of this type a feeling for Nature that is very positive and very concrete. Such a one did in time past clothe his feeling for Nature in the following words, which I will here read to you, that you may see how, for a mystic of this type, life itself becomes a feeling for Nature.

“Oh, Most High, Almighty, Good Lord God, to Thee
belong praise, glory, honour and all blessing.
Praised be my Lord God! and with all His creatures, and
especially our brother the Sun, who brings us the
day and who brings us the light: fair is he, and he
shines with a very great splendour.
O Lord he signifies to us Thee!
Praised be my Lord for our sister the Moon, and for
the Stars, the which He has set clear and lovely in
the heaven.
Praised be my Lord for our brother the wind, and for
air and clouds, calms and all weather, by which
Thou upholdest life and all creatures.
Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very
serviceable to us, and humble and precious and clean.
Praised be my Lord for our brother fire, through whom
Thou givest us light in the darkness; and he is
bright and pleasant and very mighty and strong.
Praised be my Lord for our mother the earth, the
which doth sustain us and keep us, and bringeth
forth divers fruits and flowers of many colours, and grass.”

We have here, as you see, a complete exodus of the soul from self-consciousness, a kind of intoxication of the heart. All is feeling. The poem is saturated with something that the eye cannot perceive (for the writer is a mystic) but the soul can feel. Observe however, it is what the soul feels when it does not yet go so far as to enter into the experience of the Divine in Nature. When this also becomes a part of the experience of the soul, then there can arise that feeling for Nature which is so beautifully expressed by Goethe in his Faust:

“Spirit sublime, thou gav'st me, gav'st me all
For which I prayed. Not unto me in vain
Hast thou thy countenance revealed in fire.
Thou gav'st me Nature as a kingdom grand,
With power to feel and to enjoy it.
Thou Not only cold, amazed acquaintance yield'st,
But grantest, that in her profoundest breast
I gaze, as in the bosom of a friend.
The ranks of living creatures thou dost lead
Before me, teaching me to know my brothers
In air and water and the silent wood.”¹

Here we have an echo of the same feeling, and its mystery has been solved. When we look at the figure of Faust, we can see how this experience becomes a part of his soul life.

To return to the hymn quoted above. It is the hymn of a mystic in whom this one aspect of human experience overshadows all others. He stands in such intimate relation to Nature that the Sun is his brother and the Moon his sister; the water too, he calls sister, the fire, brother, and the Earth herself his mother. This is how he feels the spiritual in Nature. You have here a mystic who comes right out beyond ordinary human consciousness, but at the same time retains all those experiences of the soul which are acquired through the instrumentality of the heart. He is a mystic whom you all know well,—Francis of Assisi.

In Saint Francis of Assisi we have a striking example of a mystic of whom we can actually assert that for this one incarnation he rejected all theology and all knowledge whatsoever, even of super-sensible things. On the other hand we find that on this very account he was able to live in extraordinary intimacy with the spirit of Nature. This was indeed an outstanding feature of his life.

In Saint Francis we have no mere vague pantheism of the spirit,—which has always a trace of affectation about it. He does not just sing rapturously of a universal Spirit in Nature; he sings of definite positive feelings that fill his soul when he encounters the beings of Nature,—filial, sisterly, brotherly feelings.

We must now pass on to a third class of mystics, class C. These are mystics who set out to experience ecstasy—that is to say, the loss or the darkening of self-consciousness—and under certain conditions to shut out also the experiences of the soul which make use of the heart, while on the other hand retaining thoughts, or experiences, of the brain. Such men are often not described in ordinary language as mystics at all, since it is generally expected of a mystic that his experiences shall be permeated with feeling. And it is easy to see why. Think of a man who has driven out of his soul-experiences all his personal self-consciousness. This will mean that there is absent in him the very thing that most people find interesting in their fellowmen,—namely, personality. People are interested in each other on account of their personality. Now experiences of the heart have still so much of the personal about them—for example, in Saint Francis of Assisi,—they exercise still such a compelling influence upon what is human in us, that we are kept awake in our consciousness and we go with such a person with interest,—though not, it is true, so readily with our will. And that is also quite right for ordinary life, especially in the present day; we cannot all be like Saint Francis of Assisi! The universality of the heart, when it manifests as it did in Saint Francis, has a powerful influence upon people, even when the essentially personal element is dulled and darkened. This suppression and extinction of consciousness leads on the one hand, in a mystic like Saint Francis, as you know, to a kind of radicalism in life, and on the other hand it restrains people from imitating him even when their interest is aroused. For as a general rule people are not at all anxious to come out of their consciousness, they are afraid they will lose the ground from under their feet.

But now consider how it might be with a mystic who shuts out all personal consciousness and in addition all experiences of the heart. Such a mystic would give to men nothing but pure thoughts,—thoughts and ideas that make use of the brain alone. No one will easily be able to carry on his life in such a condition. A man may be a Saint Francis as much as he likes, for the experiences of the heart can be helpful to mankind in general. But a mystic who suppresses not only his personal ego-consciousness but also his heart experiences and lives in thoughts alone—thoughts that are bound to the brain—will find it necessary to limit his devotion to this path to particular solemn moments of his life. For life always calls one back, again and again, to the personal element on Earth, and anyone who lived in thoughts alone and used only his brain would not be able to perform any ordinary Earth activity. He can, therefore, only occupy himself in this way for quite short periods; no one can ever use the brain exclusively for more than moments at a time. And as for his fellowmen, and his relation to them, they will simply not concern themselves with him, but will all run away from him! For what interests people most of all is personal experiences; and these he suppresses. And the heart experiences, which work so powerfully upon people, these too he renounces. The consequence is, people will steer clear of him altogether, they will not have the least desire to approach him.

The philosopher Hegel is a mystic of this kind in the true sense of the word. What he gives in his philosophy is expressly intended to exclude every personal point of view and also in addition all experiences of the heart. It sets out to be pure contemplation in thought, and we may accordingly take Hegel as an eminent example of a mystic with brain experiences alone. Such a man leads us up into the purest ether heights of thought. Whereas in ordinary life man is accustomed only to have thoughts that are rooted and grounded in personal interest and in self-consciousness, these are the very thoughts that in a philosophical mystic of this kind are forbidden. And he excludes also what makes the spiritual attractive and desirable, namely, its interplay with the experiences of the heart. He devotes himself in majestic resignation to following the course of the experiences of the brain and these alone. Of all that the human soul can experience, there remain to him only thoughts.

This is the very thing of which so many people complain in Hegel; there is nothing to recall the experiences of the heart, everything is put forward solely and entirely in thought pictures. Most people feel they are left desolate and chill, when they find what they themselves love with their heart crystallised out in cold thought. And the consciousness of self, wherein personality is rooted and whereby man stands fast in earth life,—Hegel has it only as a thought. Of course he devotes consideration to the ego, because it is for him the thought of a particularly important experience. This he does. But it remains no more than a thought picture; for him, human personality is not fired with that living and direct quality which springs from self-consciousness.

We have still one more possible kind of mystic. It would be a mystic who shut out all three,—Earth-consciousness, heart experiences, brain experiences. We would then have as class D, mystics who obliterate all Earth experiences of the soul. You can well imagine, such a thing is extraordinarily difficult to accomplish. For an occultist, it is quite a matter of course; we shall go into that more deeply in the coming lectures. An occultist rises to states where he silences all that is connected with the brain as well as with the heart, in so far as these are composed of Earth forces and in so far as they make use of consciousness. A practical occultist who ascends into higher worlds will regard this step as obvious. But at this point the occultist begins to live and experience in the super-sensible world, and during the time that he is shut off from everything in connection with the world that surrounds man on Earth he has around him the higher world. He steps out of [one] thing into another. A mystic on the other hand who shuts out all these three experiences that make use of the instruments of Earth, would enter into nothing that can fill his consciousness. He does not, of course, step into nothingness, for outside our consciousness is, as we know, the divine spiritual super-sensible world. But he does not enter this world as the occultist does, to whom is then revealed the unspoken word and the super-sensible light; no, he suppresses his consciousness, he suppresses all the powers that are in him, and only feels at last, after suppressing all these human experiences, a sense of being united with something, of being within something.

There begins for him an experience that has the impression, after the extinction of consciousness and all Earth experiences, of a marriage with something that is felt and perceived in a kind of intoxication. The mystic unites himself with it in rapture and ecstasy, but he cannot make any communication about it, because it is not experienced in any definite way, he has no concrete impressions of which he can tell.

We shall see, when we go on to speak further of occultism, into what desperate situation a man would come who eradicated all three kinds of experience—experiences of heart and brain and consciousness. He would become a mystic who underwent the so-called mystic union, but was, in the ecstasy, just like a man asleep, united with the Divine in sleep and knowing nothing of it, not even having a feeling that he has been united with the Divine. If the mystic is to retain any degree of living feeling for his union with the Divine he must at any rate wipe out these several personal experiences in succession.

Now, we have an example of such a mystic, a person who actually trod this path and in her writings even went so far as to recommend it to others. First, she strove with all her powers to overcome personal self-consciousness, to suppress it and extinguish it altogether. There were then left still active within her the powers of the heart and of the intellect. The next step was the conquest of the power of the understanding. Last of all, she overcame the powers of the heart. The fact that the powers of the heart remained with her longest accounts for the extraordinary force and intensity with which she experienced the entry into the world that lies beyond consciousness. The three things were overcome in this order; first the consciousness, then the brain experiences, and last of all the experiences of the heart.

It is characteristic that the one who accomplished this feat with remarkable order and regularity was a woman. As you know, these things must be looked at quite objectively; and when speaking with theosophists I need have no fear of being misunderstood when I say that this path comes easier to a woman. For, as we shall come to understand also from other connections, it is a peculiarity of woman's nature that it is less difficult for her to conquer herself, that is to say, to conquer all her soul experiences. The woman whose experience of mysticism followed the path we have described—extinguishing and eliminating one after the other the experiences connected with brain and with heart, and then experiencing a union with the Divine Spirit which was like a marriage, like an embrace—was Saint Theresa.

If you will study the life of Saint Theresa in the light of our considerations today, you will be prepared to admit that it can only be in very exceptional cases that a mystic comes through on this path. It will much more usually happen that the several soul experiences are not overcome in such utter purity and power as was the case with Saint Theresa, but are only partially conquered, so that some portion of them remains.

This gives us, in fact, three more kinds of mystics. We have those who mean to overcome all soul experiences, but in whom the experiences bound to the brain remain unextinguished. Such mystics are as a rule persons who may be described as wise and practical in the best sense of the word, who know their way about in life, because they make good use of their brain, and who, having to a large extent suppressed the personal element, are in their impersonal character sympathetically received by their fellowmen.

Then there are mystics who also try to overcome all their soul experiences, but have only partial success with those of the heart. Mark well the difference between a mystic of this kind and a mystic like Saint Francis of Assisi. Saint Francis of Assisi made no attempt to overcome the experiences of the heart; on the contrary he retained them in full, and the consequence was, he retained them in perfect health. That is what is so grand and majestic about Francis of Assisi; he enlarged his heart to cover his whole soul. I am not speaking of mystics of this kind, who do not endeavour to overcome the experiences of the heart. I am speaking of mystics who make great endeavours, who wrestle with all their might in this direction, but do not succeed.

In the case of these mystics we do not find that same wonderful kind of marriage with the super-sensible and spiritual which we meet with in Saint Theresa. When a mystic has striven to get free of all that is personal and human and earthly and has nevertheless still retained in conspicuous measure the experiences connected with the heart, then something very much of the nature of human limitations interferes in his striving. And it can actually come about that this marriage, this embrace of the Divine and spiritual, becomes very like the feelings and instincts of human love in ordinary life.

Mystics of this kind abound who, so to speak, love their God and their divine world in the same way as man loves in human life. Look through the histories of the saints and the accounts of monks and nuns, and you will find a great number of this type of mystic. They are “in love” with the Madonna with an altogether human passion. She is for them a substitute for a human wife. Or again, you find nuns who are in love with the Christ as their Bridegroom, they have for Him all the feelings of earthly human love. We have here reached a chapter that is very interesting from a psychological point of view—perhaps more interesting than attractive,—religious mystics who strove after what we have described but were not able to reach it because human nature held them back.

We find mystics—such, for example, as Saint Hildegard—who have good and beautiful impulses but who have also a considerable measure of ordinary earthly instinct and desire, and this taints their mystical feelings and perceptions. They come to an experience that is very like an erotic experience, they come into a kind of mystic eroticism, as you will find if you study the history of the mystics. The outpourings of their heart speak of the “Bride of their soul,” or of their passionate love for the “Bridegroom Jesus,” and so on.

We are the more ready to bear with mystics of this kind, if they have preserved quite a good bit of ordinary human consciousness, and are able as it were to stand aside in their human personality and look on at their own mystical experience. For, as they do this and see that they have not really won the victory but have still something very human left in them, a trace of humour and irony will often enter their consciousness. This gives a personal touch to the whole thing, and we do not dislike them so much; we even begin to feel a sympathetic interest in their unattained conquest of the experiences of the heart. Otherwise it repels one; the whole thing savours of pretence and hypocrisy. For the mystic sets out to compensate for the failure to overcome what lives in ordinary human impulses and instincts in a roundabout way, by asceticism.

If, however, this trait of humour and irony is present, if the person in question has moments when he uses his ordinary human consciousness, turns round on himself and tells himself the truth from the ordinary human standpoint, interspersing in this way his mystical moments with moments when he tells himself the hard plain truth, then we can feel a certain sympathy with him—as we do, for example, when we study such a mystic as Mechthild of Magdeburg.

For there is this difference between Mechthild of Magdeburg and mystics who are like her in other respects, that while she too manifests erotic passion for the Divine and Spiritual, and speaks of her Divine Lover in the same terms as men speak of human love, she expresses herself always with a certain touch of humour. She does not use high-flown language, but speaks in such a way that we can always detect a trace of irony in her words. The difference is very marked between such a mystic as Hildegard who has also not succeeded in overcoming the human personal consciousness, and Mechthild of Magdeburg, who feels herself passionately moved as she comes to the boundary of the Divine, but expresses herself with honest truthfulness and does not call that which still contains erotic passion of the heart by the specious name of “religious rapture,” but calls it quite plainly “religious love,” and speaks constantly of her Lover, her divine Bridegroom.

As you see, there are all manner of shades of mysticism! And even now, we have not so much as touched upon the ancient Greek mysticism which you will find described in my book Christianity as Mystical Fact. We shall have to speak of that later. One thing you will have been able to learn from the kinds of mysticism we have studied today; namely, that the endeavour of all mystics is to make their way out beyond ordinary personal ego-consciousness, to eliminate this consciousness, but that in reality, if man is not then to lose the ground from under his feet, another consciousness must emerge. It is of the nature of mysticism to come to the boundary of the spiritual, to experience the Divine and Spiritual like a kind of marriage, but not to enter into the world of the Divine and Spiritual. The mystic divests himself of the consciousness that requires an external object. His endeavour is to rid himself entirely of this consciousness. What the mystic wants is to go out beyond himself. If however a man wants then to experience consciously the unspoken word and the unmanifest light he must obviously experience them in a new and different consciousness. In other words, if the mystic wants to become an occultist, he must not merely undertake the negative striving, but must centre his attention also on the development of a new and higher consciousness, namely, the consciousness without an object of knowledge. We will speak further tomorrow about this higher consciousness into which the occultist has to enter.

• 1. From Bayard Taylor's Translation.

My dear Friends,

Yesterday we made a general survey of some of the various forms of mysticism. We saw how the mystic, and especially the mystic of modern Christian times, is one who sets out to tread the occult path and undertakes in the first place, in preparation for the same, to overcome and transcend his personal everyday ego-consciousness.

We had to show also from examples we brought forward, how it is possible for such a mystic to miss the road. Having done his best to extinguish ordinary consciousness, then in the moment when a super-sensible experience ought to emerge in its place, it may well be that he enters into a region which excludes the possibility of all experience whatsoever. We saw how this has actually happened in the case of eminent mystics. We found that one very distinguished mystic spoke of the goal she had in view as a “marriage” and a “union.” At the same time we had to describe this marriage or union as inevitably involving a loss of self. The mystic is estranged from himself, he no longer possesses himself, but passes over—as it were in a kind of higher sleep—into a completely different element.

Herein lies the cause why mysticism, generally speaking, although it can be a path to occultism, does not attain to the consciousness that is without an object. For the moment the mystic leaves the objects of this world, he loses also consciousness itself, and another state intervenes, a kind of intoxication; he loses himself and so cannot attain to what we named as the third element of occult experience—that higher consciousness which possesses not one of all the objects consciousness ordinarily possesses and yet still is a consciousness.

I want now today to show you how the occultist on the other hand contrives to make, as it were, the leap out of ordinary consciousness and yet not lose himself but still retain something within which he himself can live. Let us first ask ourselves the question: How is it that the fact that in the case of the majority of mystics, the most thorough investigation can discover no inner compelling reason why they should go out of themselves. No such inner need is present.

It would be quite easy, in the case of the mystics of whom we spoke yesterday, to point to external grounds that induced them to overstep the bounds of their own personality. In Saint Francis of Assisi, for instance, there is evidence of inherited clairvoyant, visionary states; and in the case of the various women mystics we cited, it was the personality—I say expressly, the personality—of Jesus Himself, Whom they regarded as a Bridegroom. Had it not been for the Christian tradition that worked upon them as a stimulus from without, they would never have arrived at their mystical state. In the case of all the mystics whom we studied yesterday, there was this external stimulus, but there was no inward compelling cause that moved them to overstep the bounds of self. Such an inward compelling cause is present in the case of the true aspirant after occultism. We may picture it to ourselves in the following way.

Imagine that someone sets out to meditate upon his ego, that strange and mysterious member of man's nature, the very centre of his consciousness He will note in the first place how it is the ego that holds his life together on the earth. If you study your life, you will quickly discover that your external substantial body has very little to do with your continued existence on this earth. Natural science can tell you that the substance of the body is completely renewed in the course of seven or eight years; so that there will certainly not be many of you who can claim to have today anything at all of the bodily substance you had as children: all of you will have to admit that your body has changed its substance completely and fundamentally in the course of your life. It has, indeed, become an entirely new body. The permanent element in your life is therefore most certainly not to be found in the substance of the body. And if you now turn from the external substance of the body and cast your eye over your inner life of soul, over your thinking, feeling and willing, there too you cannot fail to notice how much change has come about. Look back over the years of your life and try to recall the thoughts—still more, the feelings and will impulses—that held sway in you when you were young. You have only to compare them with those of a later time of life to see at once what fundamental changes go on in your inner life of soul. It would not, however, occur to anyone in his senses to speak of himself as being a different ego from what he was ten, twenty or thirty years ago, or as many years ago as he can remember. The moment a man did have to admit to himself that, let us say, from three or four years of age up to seventeen he was one ego, but that since he was seventeen years of age he had been another ego,—in that moment his being would be torn asunder; he would be, as we say, no longer in his right mind. Our ego, which is the centre point of our consciousness, must be assumed to be something that is permanent throughout the course of earthly life. And yet, if we stop to think it over, we soon discover that even this assumption concerning the ego is not after all quite correct. When you speak to your fellowman of yourself, you say “ I ”; and you mean by “ I ” that which has held your consciousness together during the course of your earthly life. This is the fundamental feeling men have about the I or ego, and it has led a number of philosophers to regard the I as something which can be taken as a starting-point for any statement about the nature of the human being. In all modern philosophy we find again and again this inclination to take the ego as the starting-point. From Fichte to Bergson—to go no further back in time—you will find that philosophy is continually given this orientation. Remarkable and significant results have come to light from such considerations. Nevertheless, when one comes to reflect more deeply, quite another thought suddenly thrusts itself forward. It is this. We are constantly speaking of our ego and we are persuaded that this ego is something that persists and is permanent for the whole of earthly life; but do we really know this ego? Could we give any description or definition of it? Careful reflection will show us that the ego is not after all so permanent as we thought. Life itself contradicts the philosophers who speak of an enduring ego and think they can have knowledge of it. Every night when man goes to sleep, the “permanent” ego is disproved. For when man is asleep it is extinguished. So that when we speak of our ego in this way, we are in error. We contemplate our life, forgetting that we are omitting entirely what happens to our ego during sleep! This ego, of which we know that it belongs to us,—in the night we know nothing of it at all. Therefore, when we think of our ego, we have to make the picture not of a continuous, but of an interrupted line.

How can such a thing be? How can it be that ego-consciousness is continually being broken? The explanation is that when we speak of the ego we mean really no more than the thought or idea of the ego. And since all ideas sink down in sleep into the darkness of unconsciousness, so does also the thought of the ego. The very fact that it sinks away with all our world of ideas should demonstrate to us that in the ego as we conceive it we have merely a picture or image of that of which we mean to speak when we say “ I.”

We shall not, therefore, be able to find in the ego the occult starting-point for which we are looking. For the ego is only there for us, to begin with, as a picture. It is, however, a picture of a unique kind, the study of which can bring us to a very interesting result. For how in any case do pictures and ideas come into the soul? Through the fact that man has around him objects. If you examine carefully the ideas with which your consciousness is filled, you will find they are aroused by external objects, they are all—originally—pictures of external objects. Herein lies the source of our life of ideation; we owe it to the stimulation of external objects. If the objects were not there we should never have ideas of them. With the idea of the I, however, it is different. In this respect the picture we have of the I is unique. In the world outside, look where you will, you can find no object to arouse it. This it is that distinguishes the idea of the I from all other ideas, We can point to no object that is the origin of it. Whatever it is that lives in the idea of the I and clothes itself in the words “ I am,” we cannot—find it anywhere in the whole wide compass of external life.

We are obliged, therefore, to admit that behind the idea of the I lies something totally unknown, something that is nowhere to be found in the external world in so far as this is open to man's perception. A strange and a marvellous thing, this I of ours! If we could lay hold of it inside us, as Bergson and others think we can, if it were possible to grasp more of it than the mere picture or idea, then we would be able to say that we had—not perhaps very much, but something of an earthly reality that is not given from without. But we cannot catch it, we cannot reach it!

There is, however, one thing we can know of this ego, one thing that can serve as a fulcrum, like the fulcrum Archimedes called for long ago, that he might unhinge the Earth. One thing we can discover when we focus our attention upon the I. Among all the multitude of questions and riddles that present themselves to us when we turn our thought to the outer world, there is one particular question that calls loudly for an answer, and it is the question which every aspirant after occultism must face if he would make the leap out of consciousness. He must ask himself: “In all the wide realm of earthly experience, do you see nothing at all of which you can say that it brings to expression the innermost part of your own being? Do you find nowhere anything in which your ego is expressed?”

To search for such an expression in our inner life will only lead to disappointment. There we simply enter into our transitory and fleeting ideas, and we can never be sure of finding anything to lead us beyond this world of temporal ideas. In any case we can never hope to get free of our personality—the very thing we must do as occultists—so long as we are gazing perpetually into it! In the external world outside us on the other hand, there are only the experiences of man on Earth. Any expression of what corresponds to the I in man must needs be an external expression. The I itself we cannot reach; but when we look around us, we do find something that is an expression—and for the moment, the one and only expression—for our I. It is the human form or figure.

We have here reached a difficult point in our consideration, but we must find the way to master it. In the first place let me ask you to understand the term “human form” as indicating the form of man as we meet with it in the external world You will, I think, not have any difficulty in following me when I say that as a plant is in its outward form the expression of its nature and being, as a crystal is formed in such a way as to correspond with its inner being, and as an animal too has a form that corresponds with its inner being, so must the human form correspond with the nature and being of man. And since from out the whole range of our earthly experiences we gather together our being in our I, the human form must needs be an expression of the human I. In other words, in all the vast realm of our experience there is this one thing—the human form or figure—which is an expression of the human being. It sounds a trivial thing to say, but it is in reality one of the most important utterances that can be made, and one upon which we do well to ponder and meditate.

The occultist must now go further. Of the ego he can say that he expresses it when he says “ I,” but he cannot say that he has it, that it is “there” for perception. What he has, what is there, is the idea of the ego. The human form, on the other hand, seems to be there. And so the occultist finds himself in a strange and puzzling situation. He meets at every turn the human form, the expression of the human ego, while the ego itself still eludes him.

There is here only one possible course for the occultist to follow. And it is this. He must clearly understand that it is no different with the human form than it is with a human ego. If the human form be always there, then it does not correspond to the ego that is not always there. We are faced with the necessity of coming somehow to understand that the human form—which apparently we encounter every minute of our life—is not there, has no existence among earthly objects. It is exceedingly important to arrive at a perception that the form of man is possessed of a peculiar quality, and one in which it very nearly resembles the idea of the ego. For the human form too in its external aspect deceives us, it lies to us. That is what the occultist comes to realise,—that the human form lies to him, pretending to be an expression of man's being, claiming to be there as plain reality, when all the time man's being remains hidden.

As you will see, we should be coming no nearer the goal we have set before us—namely, a “consciousness that has no object and is yet a consciousness”—if we set about acquiring a consciousness of the human form, since the human form is after all an external object! This means that the human form as we meet it in life cannot be what we are looking for as an expression of the ego.

Now the occultist must of course know that he cannot live in ideas and conclusions that are taken from the world outside, the experiences to which he has now to penetrate cannot be received from without; for what comes to him from without goes to make up his Earth consciousness, and this he wants to transcend. When the occultist looks at the human form, what he has to do is to experience something in it that leads him out beyond Earth consciousness.

Is it possible to experience in the human form something that leads us out beyond all Earth consciousness? Yes, it is possible. Let us look first at the human countenance and observe the impression it makes upon us. If we want to attain a true perception of the human countenance, we must not be so foolish as to cling to our accustomed ideas of it. For we have here to enter upon a profound experience that will lead at last to the startling conclusion that the human countenance is not as it should be. We learn to see how the human countenance and all that belongs to it—indeed the whole of the upper part of man—has undergone change in course of time through the working of pride in the soul of man,—pride and haughtiness and presumption.

This is the first experience we have to meet, when we begin to overstep the bounds of ordinary consciousness. We enter right down into a deep and original feeling of the soul where we say: “You lie to me, you human countenance and human head! Through pride and presumption you have given yourself a form you should not have. As I look at the whole upper part of man, I begin to see through your appearance; when I behold how pride and presumption have made their impress on man throughout many incarnations, then I begin to perceive an original human countenance that is quite different from you.” Thus, looking at the upper part of man, we perceive how through pride and presumption man has changed his original form.

A further observation has then to be made, and this time it concerns the remaining parts of the human figure. Here again, when the deepest and original perceptions of the soul are aroused, we have the impression that the human form is lying to us. The remaining parts of it—these too, no less than the head, ought to be different from what they are. Again we have to discover and eliminate some interfering influence in order to come to the original; and here it is passionate longing and desire. Changed in form and figure has man become,—above through pride and presumption, below through desire. If desire were not aflame within him, then the lower part of his organism would have a different form.

These two experiences are fundamental, upon them we must build. They are experiences that it is possible to have and that can lead one to pronounce two judgments,—that man is too proud and that man is too full of longing and desire. They are definite inner experiences in consciousness and they force themselves upon one if one looks at the human being with the soul's deepest powers of perception. But what about their origin? Have they been aroused by any object in the whole wide world of Earth life? They are, as we have seen, only present when man begins to feel the imperfection of his own form, when he feels that his form had originally a different plan and character and has become changed through the working of pride and desire. It is not, therefore, any external object that has occasioned these experiences. Yet they are experiences that can make their appearance in human consciousness, that can be there simply through the fact that man lives his life on Earth together with his environment.

We have here made a discovery of extraordinary importance, namely, that it is possible to come to an inner judgment, an inner experience, that has no object. And this inner experience has the following result. The occult student conceives a dislike for his human form. He says to it: “You are false.” He withdraws from it,—not like the mystics of whom we spoke yesterday, who, when they withdraw themselves, retain nothing of the experiences of Earth. No, the occultist steps forth out of ordinary experience and takes something with him; what he takes is a judgment about the human form. It is a judgment to which, in fact, expression has been given by man again and again in countless different ways.

What has here been described is, so to speak, the first elementary perception that stands at the beginning of occult consciousness,—if it is genuine occult consciousness and not mere mystical experience. At the very beginning stands a judgment about the human being. The human form as such has been extinguished; not so, however, all inner experience. There remains a judgment concerning man, which says to him: “It is Earth life that has made you as you are; the form in which we see you now refers us back to another and altogether different form.”

In order to see quite clearly that we have here to do with the dawning of a “consciousness without object,” it will be necessary for us to study a little more closely this human form or figure. For when we showed how the occult student makes this leap out of himself, retaining only a kind of judgmatic feeling about the human form—finding fault with the one half for being too proud and with the other half for being too full of desire—we were speaking of an inner experience that is rather indefinite. As a matter of fact it is one which leads on, as we shall see later, to the highest regions of spiritual experience; as yet, however, it is undefined.

To come to greater definiteness, let us now study the human form in some detail. Speaking in scientific language, let us dissect the human form! When we try to do so, we are at once struck by the remarkable fact that the human form divides up of itself quite naturally into various members, We shall see clearly what these members are when we enquire how man came to receive his present form. We shall find that the truths which are drawn from the deep wells of occultism give us a complete picture of the memberment of the human form, show us how the human form has been put together.

The first thing about the human form that arrests our attention, the first thing in his form that makes man, is what I laid stress on in the opening words of these lectures,—the fact that it is upright. Man is a being who walks upright. That is the first important thing about him,—so to speak, the first member of his form—his upright posture.

It will perhaps seem to you as though there were something arbitrary about the way I am dissecting the form of man. But if you follow closely and carefully, you will see that it is not really so at all; the fact is, the essential being of man, as described for us in occult knowledge, is reflected in his form or figure.

The second thing that makes man man and that will also be readily recognised as essential to the human form, is the fact that he is so constituted as to enable him to be a speaking being. Sound can be born in him. Consider how essential a characteristic this is. In general, man is organised in an upward direction, and in particular he is so organised that his speech organs, beginning from the heart and larynx, go upwards,—up to the face. Study the human being from this aspect and you will find that all the forms of the limbs are so arranged as to suit the creation and the moulding and forming of spoken sound. Thus we can say, the second important factor in the ordering of the members of the human form is that they are ordered and disposed with a view to speech.

The third thing that we have to regard as important for the form of man is the fact that it is symmetrical. Inevitably one feels that the human form would lose something of its real nature if it were not symmetrical. That then is the third essential, that the limbs and members are symmetrically disposed. As we know, there are exceptions, but the quality of symmetry is essential.

The fourth thing that comes into consideration manifests in the following way. If you will observe attentively these three first members of man's form—upright posture, speaking, symmetry—you will see that they are all directed outwards. The fact that man holds himself upright is something that places him into the external world. Speech is again something that obviously relates him to the external world. Finally, the symmetry of his form gives him a certain balance in space. Now we come to a different aspect. We come to the fact that man has an inside. From the purely physical point of view man has organs that are enclosed within his skin. We may, therefore, say that man has as the fourth member of his form the fact of enclosure within the skin, so that the organs on which the inner functions depend are inside and are protected from the external world. Enclosure or isolation within the skin is thus something that properly belongs to the human form.

To find the fifth member of the human form, you must give your attention to the fact that within it, in the parts that are shut away from the outside, we find organs, active inner organs. All that lives and works inside man—that is the fifth thing we have to note. That there is movement and life within him can convince us that man as he stands before us in his form is not dependent merely on the external world, but is dependent on his own inner man as well he has within him as it were a centre for all the weaving of his life and being. Contrast, for example, with the members we have already described, such a thing as the circulation of the blood. There you have a process that takes its course entirely inside man, it is something completely isolated from the world outside. Thus we have as fourth member the fact of enclosure or isolation, and as fifth, the inside of man that is so enclosed.

But now there is something further we have to observe about this inside of the human form. Looked at from the purely physical aspect, it is a duality. There are, first of all, organs like the lungs and heart, which owe their form to a compromise, for they receive an influence also from without. Even the heart, by reason of its connection with the lungs, has to be adapted to outside conditions. The air from outside enters into man through the lungs and is by this means brought into contact with the inner organs. Then we have, on the other hand, organs which show by their form that they are adapted solely and entirely to the inside of the body. These are the organs of the abdomen. They owe their very shape and form to the fact that they are inside man. It is quite possible to imagine that the stomach, intestines, liver or spleen, if they were differently formed, could still be in connection with the heart and lungs and in some way or other fulfil their right and proper functions. When once the external world has found entrance into the lungs, then all the inner organs can assume their own several forms. They are determined entirely from within. So that we may say we have, as sixth, a member of the human which we may call the true inside of man in the bodily sense. It is important to realise that here we have a member of the human form which has no connection with the outside world.

We have now come to a boundary in the human form, where the outward direction begins to work again, where once more we find something that has strong relation to the outside world. Consider the shape of man's foot. If it were not formed for the ground, if it had not a sole, man would not be able to walk. If his foot, for example, ended in a point, he would be continually falling down. Thus, as we follow the human form downwards, we come again to organs that are adapted to external conditions. At the same time we note that the feet, and also the legs, help to give man his distinctively human form. If man were a fish, or if he were a creature that flies in the air, these organs would have to be formed quite differently; as it is, their form expresses the fact that man is a being who stands and walks upon the earth. All the organs from the hips downwards are shaped with this end in view,—that man shall be a being able to work and stand and walk upon the earth. So that we may say, in the hips we have, as seventh member, a condition of balance What is above the place of balance is either given an outward direction in its form, or as we have seen, turned inwards; what is below is formed in a downward direction. In the hips you have a point of equilibrium between these tendencies. Of all that comes below the hips, we may say that it is adapted to earthly conditions.

Then we have as eighth member organs that are entirely orientated with a view to conditions outside the human being,—the organs of reproduction. Continuing further, a little reflection will enable you to see that for man to walk in the way that is proper to him, the thigh must be separate from the leg, there must be the bend between them. And so he has, joined on to the thigh, the knee, making it possible for him to adapt himself in his walk to earthly conditions. For it is earthly conditions that determine altogether the lower part of the figure of man. Then we have the leg and, separated again from it, the foot. Perhaps you will say, what about the hands? We shall see in the next lecture why the hands are left out in this connection.

And now I will ask you to follow this list we have made of the members of man's form.

1. Upright posture.
2. Orientation to the utterance of Sound.
3. Symmetry.
4. Enclosure within itself.
5. The Interior of man that is so enclosed.
6. The Interior of man in bodily aspect, having no connection with the outside world.
7. Balance.
8. Organs of Reproduction.
9. Thigh.
10. Knee.
11. Leg.
12. Feet.

As I said before, it might at first sight appear arbitrary to show the human form divided in this way into twelve members. But everything man requires in his form in order for him to be man on earth is really comprised in these twelve members (I will explain tomorrow how it is with the hands), and in such a way that each member has a certain independence, each member is separate from the others. One could even imagine that each one of them, while remaining still in connection with the others, might assume quite another form from the form it actually has. It is perfectly possible in each single case to imagine other shapes or forms for the several members; but that the whole human figure stands before us as the result of the conjunction of twelve such members, is a fact that cannot be disregarded.

When you reflect upon the whole meaning and intention of man's existence upon Earth, you cannot leave out of account that he has a form and figure membered in this particular way, so that when we come to study his form we must inevitably think of it as divisible into twelve parts or members. These twelve members have always been regarded in occultism as of the deepest possible significance. We are bound to take them into consideration if we would understand the meaning of the form and figure of man in its relation to his being. Occultism has always known of them, and for reasons which will become clear to us in the course of these lectures, as we continue our study of man in the light of occultism, philosophy and theosophy, the twelve members have received twelve specific designations.

What we gave as the first member has been called “Ram” (Aries) and is denoted by the Sign ♈.

The second is named “Bull” (Taurus) and symbolised with the Sign ♉.

Symmetry is called “Twins” (Gemini) and is denoted with the Sign ♊.

What we described as the quality of enclosure within itself is given the Sign ♋ and called “Crab” (Cancer).

What we described as the interior, the life that is so enclosed, is called “Lion” (Leo) and symbolised with the Sign ♌.

The inner parts of man, that in bodily aspect have no connection at all with the outside world and point to the threefold character of man's nature, themselves typifying complete isolation from the outside world, are called “Virgin” (Virgo) and denoted with the Sign ♍.

Then we come to the condition of balance and there, no explanation will be needed for giving the name of “Scales” (Libra) ♎.

The organs of reproduction, which have once more the direction outwards, are denoted by the expression “Scorpion” (Scorpio) and symbolised with the Sign ♏.

The Thigh is called “Archer” (Sagittarius) and has the Sign ♐. The knees, the “Goat” (Capricorn), are symbolised with the Sign ♑.

The leg below the knee is “Waterman” (Aquarius) and has the Sign ♒.

Finally, the feet are termed “Fishes” (Pisces) and have the Sign ♓.

For the moment, I ask you to see in these Signs no more than signs and signatures for the various members that go to make the complete human form. Please regard them as nothing else than a means of distinguishing the several members of the human form. You know very well that these Signs belong to habits of mind and thought that are of great antiquity, and in particular that they play a part in astrology. I want you, however, to connect nothing else with them now than the fact that with their help we are able to study the human form and see how it lends itself naturally to division into twelve members. If it should seem that we are giving rather strange names and signs to these members of the human form, it is really only as it is with the sounds of human speech, where we cannot by any means always quickly recognise the meaning from the sound, or, shall we say, as it is with the letters of the alphabet, of which we are often quite unable to say at once why they designate this or that sound. All we have done is to find an expression for the twelve-membered figure of man and, for convenience of further reference, give these members names which have here and there found their way out of occultism into general use.

1. Upright posture ♈.
2. Orientation to the utterance of Sound ♉.
3. Symmetry ♊.
4. Enclosure within itself ♋.
5. The Interior of man that is so enclosed ♌.
6. The Interior of man that in bodily aspect has no connection with the outside world ♍.
7. Balance ♎.
8. Organs of Reproduction ♏.
9. Thigh ♐.
10. Knee ♑.
11. Leg ♒.
12. Feet ♓.

My dear Friends,

IT will perhaps surprise you that in the course of these lectures we should devote so much time to considering the nature of what is after all the external part of man, his form and figure. If, however, you want to penetrate further into the knowledge which true occultism can give, you cannot omit from your study of man the aspects with which we are now dealing. Call to mind how often in the course of your studies you have met with the thought that in his outer form and figure man is a temple of the Godhead. So he is, and this is what we have all the time in mind while we study as it were the building stones of the temple, as we began to do yesterday and shall still continue doing for a little while. We shall see that when we take the trouble to search in the human figure for the hidden secrets of the spiritual world, we arrive in this way at knowledge that is of the utmost importance for the human heart and soul.

Yesterday we studied man in his twelve members. Now these twelve members appear at first sight to form a unity. They are, however, in reality not a unity, and it is important to recognise this. For, the moment we are awake to the fact that the external unity of the human form is only apparent, the moment we realise that the whole form and figure of the body, as we see it and can have knowledge of it here in earthly life, is but a semblance—in that moment we can also begin to understand how it is with the I, the centre point of man's consciousness.

We saw yesterday how this ego of ours is snatched away from us every night, and how it can therefore only be for man a picture; for no reality could be torn from him in this way in the night. Every night something of man's ego (which otherwise goes with him through the whole of earth life) is withdrawn; and the Divine Powers have so ordered things that precisely what man loses in this way is given to him in the external body; it is attached instead to the body. This is how it comes about that man is able to look upon his body as a unity. In reality it is no unity. In reality it is composed of members that are built up together in a most complicated manner.

We are here approaching one of the most important mysteries of man's being, that will lead us to delve deep into the primal secrets of existence.

One of there mysteries we touch already in the external world; and it will be important for us also to take the road from without inwards in order to receive out of this consciousness the idea that has no object. Man as we see him in the world consists of three parts, and we are dealing all the time with an appearance if we simply treat these three parts of man as a unity. For man's form, which yesterday we saw to be composed of twelve members, is really divided into three, and we must learn to understand how man has in him as it were, three men. Let us now place before us these three men in succession.

Yesterday, when we recounted in order the members of man's form, we began with what we called his upright posture; and then we went on to speak of how man is orientated in a forward direction,—to express it better, for the act of speaking. We have, therefore, as second member the forward direction, the direction for speaking. The third, you will remember, was symmetry. Taking for the moment just these three members of man's nature, we have there one part of the human form as we behold it externally in space.

Let us now see whether we cannot, by following a purely external perception, find something else to which we can apply the word symmetry,—and which in its external appearance offers to a careful observation many interesting problems. By symmetry we mean, of course, that man's form shows a two-sided development. This quality of symmetry is present in all the organs of the head, but as we go downwards from the head we come to a part of the human figure where it is even more particularly in evidence. You will remember that we gave to “upright posture” the name of Aries and the Sign ♈, and to “orientation to the formation of sound” the name Bull (Taurus) and the Sign ♉, and to “symmetry” the name Twins (Gemini) and the Sign ♊. These are the names given to the first three members of man's organism. Then we come to something which seems to follow as a kind of continuation of the head and manifests in quite a special way the property of symmetry. I mean the arms and hands. It is to these that I will ask you now to give your consideration.

Man's arms and hands attach themselves to the head part of man in such a way as to prefigure in a striking manner what we have in the lower man as thigh, leg and foot. If you consider the animal kingdom you will at once be struck with the similarity of these last organs with those which in man, as arms and hands, are different. You will be able to make very important observations by devoting careful study and thought to the difference there is in man between arms and legs, and between hands and feet, in contradistinction to those animals that stand nearest to him.

Let us now take the names we employed yesterday for the legs and feet and apply them in a corresponding manner to the arms and hands which are joined on to the head and which—as quite a superficial observation will enable you to see—have spiritual connection with the whole thought world of the head. You will not find it unreasonable or inappropriate if we now apply to these arms and hands that are connected with the head, the same terms that we used yesterday for legs and feet, and name this symmetrically extended continuation of the head in the following way. First we have, as fourth member, the upper arm, and to this we give the same designation as we gave to the thigh,—Archer (Sagittarius) ♐. We note a difference between the elbow and the knee, there being no development in the elbow to correspond to the knee-cap, but in spite of this the similarity is sufficiently obvious. And so we give to the elbow the Sign and the name we gave to the knee,—Goat (Capricorn) and ♑. We allot to the lower arm the same Sign as we took for the leg, the Sign of Waterman (Aquarius) ♒, and the hands are denoted with the same Sign as we gave to the feet,—the Sign of Fishes (Pisces) ♓. And now if we take these members of man's nature all together, by themselves, comprising as they do the whole head and arms, we have a seven-membered man. That is an important perception. When you reflect on how this complete sevenfold man receives nourishment—the nourishment is of course brought up to it from the rest of man—then the idea will not be utterly grotesque if we imagine for a moment that this sevenfold man might receive its nourishment from without, like a plant which finds nourishment prepared for it in the world outside, and merely receives it and works upon it. We could quite well imagine that the same thing happened for this sevenfold man, and that it did not get whatever it needs for the maintenance of the brain and so forth from the other parts of man's nature, but instead directly from the external world. This sevenfold man would then be directly and immediately linked with the external world.

It is essential for the occultist to come to an understanding of this sevenfold man if he is to raise himself in a right way to the level of a higher consciousness. What we have just been describing must at some time find place in his mind,—this possibility of a sevenfold man, from which one thinks away all the remaining parts and members of the present-day human being.

Let us now go on to consider the second man. We shall best understand the second man if we pursue the following train of thought. The essential organ of the head is, as you will easily see, the brain. Now man has something else in his form that is similar to the brain. It differs from the brain of the head in what is apparently a detail, but really a point of great significance. Man has actually something like a second brain; it is the brain of the spinal cord, which is enclosed in the spinal column.

I will ask you to dwell for a little on this thought. Try to imagine that the spinal cord is nothing else than a strange and peculiar brain. It is quite possible to feel it as a brain that has been elongated and has become like a slender staff,—just as we can also see the brain as an inflated spinal cord. It will help us here if we picture man assuming for the moment the same posture in the world as the animals still have today,—that is to say, with his spine not vertically upright but parallel with the surface of the earth. Then you would have a brain that has simply been pulled out into the form of a staff. And now observe the human being as you would then have him before you, parallel with the surface of the earth, his back lying horizontal in space. In this position the spinal cord can very well pass for a kind of brain. And now we note something very strange and remarkable,—namely, that we have again appendages right and left, though of course exceedingly different from the arm appendages we had before. But imagine a condition where man had not developed symmetry as far as he has today (when the two arms are very nearly alike) but here one arm had experienced a peculiar development of its own which distinguished it very clearly from the other. In the present day there is even a tendency—and it is a foolish one!—to discard righthandedness and cultivate an equal left and righthandedness. But imagine now that the left arm were on the contrary to grow into a completely different organ; then it will not seem to you impossible or absurd to refer in the way we shall now do to two other appendages.

Consider the human being in this position, with his spinal column above, lying horizontal, and joined on to it on one side the head and on the other side the feet. You have there before you two appendages, as you had previously in the arms. You can regard the head as one arm and the two feet together as the other arm. At first hearing, it sounds very strange: but when you reflect that in the lower animal kingdom forms occur which are not very different from what I have described, the idea will perhaps not strike you as so grotesque, after all.

As a matter of fact, this idea must find place in our mind, if we are to have understanding of the whole being who is in truth a three-membered being. Then we can actually say that we have here appendages,—only unsymmetrically formed; twins, shall we say, that are not alike. In effect, we come to perceive that we have before us something like a repetition of the first sevenfold man.

Let us begin then by assigning to this horizontal man the two dissimilar Twins. For we can again call the two side appendages Twins (Gemini). In the horizontal man, head on the one side and feet on the other belong together; they are arranged in a mutual relationship, and we denote them in this connection with the name Twins (Gemini).

And now we must go back to what we have seen to be a brain. Remember what we said before. We only get the picture of man at which were now looking by turning him. We have before us the middle part of man, the body as such. This we must regard as a world enclosed in itself, and moreover as a world which we are thinking of as containing within it the second man. Thus we have the covering-in or the enclosing of this second man, and within, above, a kind of brain. The enclosure—the shroud or encasement, as it were—we designate as Crab (Cancer). The whole enclosure of the breast takes on quite a new character through the fact that we have turned man in order to obtain a correct picture of it.

Now let us see what members we can find within this enclosure of the breast. We have only to follow the members as we took them in their sequence yesterday, as far as the place where it ceases to be possible still to reckon them as part of the breast or middle man. There is no question about the whole interior to which we gave the name of Lion (Leo) ♌ and which is concentrated in the heart. This is the third member. Then you will remember we saw how man is really divided within into two members, an inner content that is enclosed by Crab (Cancer) ♋ and an inner content that is enclosed by the wall of the abdomen. Anatomically man's body is quite exactly divided off by the diaphragm into an upper and a lower cavity; what is below the diaphragm has also to be reckoned in with the middle man. We call it by the name Virgin (Virgo) with the Sign ♍.

We come then to the place of balance, where man begins to be no longer shut away within his own form but to open himself to the world outside. When he uses his legs he is making contact with what is outside him. The place of balance is the boundary where the entirely “within” comes to an end. This fifth member is called Scales (Libra) and is given the Sign ♎.

From the whole way in which the organs of reproduction are placed in man, you will see they must obviously be counted in with the middle man; and so we have, as sixth member, the reproductive organs, Scorpion (Scorpio) with the Sign ♏.

And now nothing remains to be done but to define the appendage that forms the second of the Twins. If you consider what the thigh is for man, and observe how its movement is conditioned by the nature of the middle man (for the thigh is closely connected with the whole muscular system of the middle man), you will see that we must reckon it also as a member. As far as the knee, man is middle man; the forces of middle man enter into the thigh and extend to the knee. Moreover, we have already included the thigh as one of the Twins. The head on one side and the thigh on the other constitute the pair of Twins. The thigh, then, we denote with the Sign ♐ and we call it Archer (Sagittarius).

When you go further and consider the feet, you find that whereas the thigh still preserves an intimate connection with the middle man, knee and leg and foot require the support of the earth. The thigh, it is true, uses this support, but the leg and the foot are only there at all because man has to stand firm and upright on the earth. In the thigh we have still to do with a continuation of the middle man. If it were not adapted to the other members of leg and foot, the thigh would, in fact, be able to assume a different form and enable man to be a creature of the air. Quite different organs might then be developed beyond it, appropriate for swimming or flying. These would be set in motion by means of the thigh, but everything else about them would have to be adapted to their purpose.

You see, therefore, that the remaining parts of man's form do not require to be reckoned in with the middle man, so that we have now again a sevenfold man. It is the second. If you look at the difference between the two, you will find it is quite astounding. In the first seven-membered man we have, to begin with, all the important sense organs, situated in the head. And when we count in with this first sevenfold man, as indeed we must, the arms and hands, then we have included in it organs that have a distinctive quality which none but a purely external and materialistic observation could fail to recognise. For the organs we call arms and hands would, if we studied them seriously, reveal in a high degree the sublime significance of the nature of man.

If we wanted to speak of art in Nature—and the whole of what man rightly regards as the Temple of God is wonderfully imbued with Nature's art!—we could find no better expression of it than in the marvellous construction of man's hands and arms. Take the corresponding organs in other creatures that are related to man. Look, for instance, at the wings of a bird,—an animal far removed from man. The wings are the fore limbs of the bird, they are comparable with what we have in man as hands. The bird could not fly without wings. Wings are organs that are useful and necessary for its existence—in the fullest sense, organs of utility. The human hand is not in the same sense an organ of utility at all. True, we can develop it to become so, but it requires development. We cannot fly with it, nor swim with it, and it is even clumsy at climbing, at which the fore limbs of the ape—the animal that is most nearly related to man—are very clever. We might almost say that, looked at purely from the standpoint of utility, there is very little meaning or purpose in the form of the hands. If, however, we observe all that man has to do in the course of evolution with his hands, we find them to be most precious possessions. When it is a matter of bringing to outward expression what the mind and spirit are able to achieve, then the hands show their value.

Think of the most simple and elementary movements of the hand. Does not the hand, when it accompanies the word with gesture, turn into a most expressive organ? In all the different movements and positions of the hand do we not often see revealed something of the inner character of the human being? Suppose for a moment that the hands were adapted for purposes of climbing or swimming; or suppose man needed his hands to help him move about on the earth. The world might be so ordered that we did not have to learn to walk, but made use of our hands to help us. For note, we have to learn to walk by making movements that are quite unsuited for the purpose—pendulum-like movements with both legs. We do not generally remark how ill-adapted for the end in view are the movements of the leg; there is no single animal that does not have its legs much more usefully placed and adjusted than man has! And as for our hands, they have nothing whatever to do with this realm of our existence. But now suppose it were not so, suppose man found it easier, more natural, to move about with the help of his hands. In that case you would have to think away the whole of human culture! What does an artist not do with his hand? All art would be simply non-existent, had the hands been organs of utility.

This is a fact that has to be brought home to the aspirant after occultism,—that in arms and hands we have wonderful organs deeply and strongly connected with the spiritual life that is lived by man on earth. When we consider how man has a sense contact with the external world in his head where the sense organs are chiefly localised, and then works with the external world by means of his hands, when we consider how he can prepare in his head what he then shows to the external world with his hands and bequeaths to it as art and culture,—then we begin to see the true character of this first sevenfold man It is the essentially spiritual man, it is man in his connection with the external world. If we look at these seven members and see how they form a self-contained whole then we behold how in this sevenfold man the earth process becomes conscious for man. This first seven-membered man is thus to be regarded as the spiritual nature of the human being; it is the spiritual being of man, in so far as he is earth man.

Let us now look at the second man. The fact that the middle man has Twins which show such totally different developments on the two sides, gives it a double relation with the outside world It is connected with the outside world on the one hand through the head,—for it has knowledge in the head; and on the other hand, through the fact that man is a creature that moves about on earth and can direct his motion from within. Finally it is also connected with the outside world by means of the reproductive organs which make possible the physical continuity of man. Were it not for these three members,—the Twins on the two sides, with the reproductive organs—there would be no connection with the outside world. These three members in the middle organism enable man to have connection on the one hand with the earth process and on the other hand with the continued evolution of earth man, with the sequence of the generations and the reciprocity of sex.

When, however, we turn to those middle members that we denote with the words Cancer, Leo, Virgo and Libra, we find that they are only there for the inner man himself—I mean of course “inner” in the bodily sense. This bodily inner nature of man has, it is true, continuations in two outward directions in what are for it the Gemini; but for the rest it is entirely occupied with the inner organism For man's inner organism it is of the very greatest significance that he has a heart, but it is of very little interest for external nature, and of just as little interest that he has an abdomen.

We have, therefore, three members that are of importance for external earth nature and four others that serve especially man's own inner organism. Whilst the head man lives essentially in the outside world, by virtue of the senses as well as by virtue of the mechanism of arm and hand, here we have paramountly a life inside the organism. Far-reaching differences thus exist between these two men, the middle man and the head man.

We must now pass on to consider a third man. To enable us more easily to form a mental picture of this third man, we will take it in the reverse order, beginning from the other end. We shall find that this third man separates itself off from the other two in a perfectly natural and obvious manner.

Let us begin with the seventh member, the feet. We know from yesterday's lecture that we confer upon the feet the name of Fishes (Pisces) and the Sign ♓. The human form is here wholly adapted to the outside world. If you think it over a little you will find there is no question about it. For it is essentially the form of the foot that makes it possible for man to be a creature who moves about on the earth. Everything else required for walking man has to learn. It is in right accordance with nature that man has to place upon the earth the broad sole of his foot, so that the extended surface of the foot is not directed inwards but to the earth. And now since what we call the leg belongs to and corresponds to this foot nature, we must reckon as sixth member the leg, to which we give the name Waterman (Aquarius) and the Sign ♒.

We come then to the fifth member, the knee, which is here to be regarded in no other way than as forming a necessary mechanical resting place for the thigh. Because man has to bring his whole middle man into connection with the lower man—the foot and leg—therefore must there be this partition at the knee. Think how difficult it would be to walk if the lower leg and foot were not separated off in this way. Walking would be a still more difficult matter than it is, if leg and thigh were made of one single piece! If we did not need to walk, the middle man would not concern us. As it is, however, we need the middle man and consequently also require the knee as connecting member. We call it Goat (Capricorn) with the Sign ♑. This is the fifth member.

The fourth, the thigh, we have already considered and we have seen that it belongs to the middle man. The thigh would have to be there even if man had another kind of movement. If, for instance, he were to fly or swim, he would still need the thigh, though it might have to assume another form. If man is to be able to walk on the earth, not only must the foot and leg and knee be adapted to the ground but also the thigh must be in right relation and proportion to these members. It must be so formed as to correspond in the right way to the three lower members, You will recognise this when you observe that in so far as the thigh is in correspondence with the middle organs it is of the same kind in birds, in four-footed animals and in man; in man it is only differently developed. Thus, the thigh belongs to man in so far as he has an animal nature. We give it the name of Archer (Sagittarius) and the Sign ♐.

It can easily be seen that the organs of reproduction are on the one hand formed from within, and on the other hand in their functions are adapted to the work outside. Let me say in passing, we must speak of these things quite objectively, and consider aspects of them that can only be considered when the subject is treated with scientific seriousness. The reproductive organs are adapted to external nature in the sense that they relate one sex to the other. The organ of the male is not only formed from out of the middle man, but it is also given an outward direction and its form adapted to the reproductive organ of the female. We have, therefore, to speak of the reproductive organs as the third member, which we name Scorpion (Scorpio) and denote by the Sign ♏.

We come next to what is called the Scales (Libra), the place of balance in man. The external form of the region of balance is sufficient evidence that we have here a member of the middle nature of man. Bear in mind that it is because man has become upright that he had to have here this organ of balance. It must be developed in such a way as to enable him to become an upright being. Compare the region of balance in a four-footed animal with the same in man, and you will recognise that this member of balance is different according as the upper part of the body has an upward direction or rests horizontally on the legs and feet. Thus, the place where the balance is situated and which we designate as Libra has to be reckoned as the second member of the lower man.

And now we come to something that cannot but meet with misunderstanding on the part of present-day science. We have so far considered a sixfold man; we have studied the third man beginning from below upwards and found in him these six members. When we considered the other two, the first and the second sevenfold man, we took as our starting-point in each case a brain. In considering the head, we began with the brain and that led us to the arms and hands. Then we learned to see a second brain, a brain that is like an elongated staff but yet is truly brain,—the spinal cord. As you will know, the difference between the spinal cord and the brain of the head, though apparently only small, is really very great. The spinal cord is the instrument for all movements that man is obliged to perform; the movements that we call involuntary movements are controlled by the spinal cord. When, on the other hand, we employ the instrument of the brain, thought inserts itself between perception and movement. In the spinal cord all connection with thought is lacking. There movement follows directly on perception. In the case of the animal the spinal cord plays a greater part than it does in the case of man, and the brain a lesser part. Most animals perform their actions quite involuntarily. Man, however, by virtue of his superior brain, wedges in thinking between perception and movement; consequently his deeds show a voluntary character.

Let us now try to picture the third man in such a way that in it too we discover a kind of brain. As you know, there is in man a third system of nerves, distinct from those of the brain and of the spinal cord. It is the sympathetic nervous system, the so-called solar plexus, situated in the lower part of man and sending its fibres upwards, parallel with the spinal cord. It is a nervous system that is separate from the other two and, in relation to the brain proper, may be regarded as a peculiar, undeveloped brain, When we follow the human form upwards beyond Libra we find this remarkable sympathetic nervous system, the solar plexus, extended like a brain of the third man. With the special organs we have already enumerated there is thus connected also what we have to regard as a kind of third brain,—the solar plexus.

Now, a vital connection exists—and this is what external science cannot but find difficult to accept—between the solar plexus and the kidneys. As the substance of the brain in the head and the fibres of the nerve tracks belong together, so do the kidneys belong to the brain of the abdomen, the solar plexus. In fact, the solar plexus and the kidneys form, together, a peculiar kind of subordinate brain. Reckoning this brain as part of the lower man, we can designate it with the term Virgin (Virgo) ♍. We have therefore now our seventh, or rather our first, member, made up of the connection of solar plexus with kidneys; and at this point we reach the termination above of the third sevenfold man.

Man is thus found to be threefold in his composition. These three men work into and with one another, and no understanding of the nature of the human being is possible until one knows that in him three human beings are in reality active. Three sevenfold men work together in man.

The last-named brain takes extraordinarily little interest in the external world. Its sole purpose is to maintain man's inner parts in an upright position. All the rest of the organs in the lower man are adapted to the external world—although in quite a different manner from the head man. Man's relation in his head to the external world is expressed in the fact that he re-forms the earth world to a world of human culture. On the other hand, in the outer as well as the inner organs of the lower man we have to do with something that belongs to and serves the human being himself. It is only because we do not take the trouble to think accurately on these matters that we fail to observe the enormous difference there is between these three men within the whole human being

Occultism has always given the name of Mysterium Magnum, the Great Mystery, to the wonderful secret of man's nature, the outer aspect of which we have here been considering. This aspect of the Mysterium Magnum is visible in the external world; only, we are not as a rule in a position to understand it, because we do not from the outset distinguish, in what appears to be a unity, a three times sevenfold being.

We may now pass on to consider the other aspect of this mystery. We spoke earlier of the ego nature of man, and we said how it has the appearance of being a unity. We saw also how this unity is continually being broken, continually being interrupted by sleep. If you will read Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and its Attainment you will find a remarkable fact described, how when the disciple of occultism takes the step that leads him out of his ordinary consciousness a strange thing happens with his ego, with his consciousness. He is divided into three members, and so effectually that he is overpowered by these self-dependent members within him—the thinking soul, the feeling soul and the willing soul. In ordinary life these three things—thinking, feeling and willing—are united in the ego-nature, in the ego-consciousness. In our ordinary everyday consciousness they play into one another. As soon, however, as we take one step towards a higher consciousness, thinking, feeling, and willing fall apart. This is a fact to which the aspirant after occultism must give heed. When he passes out beyond his consciousness, he finds himself divided into three, he finds his ego unity split up into a thinking man, a feeling man and a willing man.

There you have the other aspect of the Mysterium Magnum. When man takes the plunge, as it were, when he really steps right over the bounds of his consciousness, then his ego unity divides into three, just as the apparent unity of the external human figure, as soon as we come to study the body more closely, divides into three,—into three seven-membered men.

Thus our inner ego-nature, no less than our external form, is a unity that is divisible into three. Outer man divides into the seven-membered head man, the seven-membered middle man and the seven-membered foot man. Correspondingly, the inner ego of the human being divides, as soon as it takes the first step into the occult realm, into three parts or members,—the thinking man, the feeling man and the willing man, who stand each over against the other in complete independence. That is the second aspect of the mystery.

Both of these facts must be recognised by the disciple of occultism, when he takes the first step into a higher consciousness. (We shall speak further tomorrow about the meeting with the Guardian of the Threshold.) For as consciousness is then divided into three parts, so too if we go forward in the right way, we learn to perceive in the manifest external form of man a three times sevenfold being We have here two aspects of a many-sided and many-membered mystery,—the Mysterium Magnum. Of other aspects we shall have to speak later. For the moment we have indicated the very first and most elementary beginnings of this great and wonderful mystery. This is why, when you come to a particular stage in occult development, you are met on all sides with the formula (expressed in many different ways): The great secret is—“Three are one and one are three.” For the occultist this formula signifies what I have here described to you; herein it has its full and true meaning. Only when people misunderstand it and make it into a materialistic dogma, is its true meaning lost. If, however, you will take it in the sense I have explained, it can be a right symbol for the truths with which we have been dealing today. The formula becomes then an expression of the Mysterium Magnum. If we want to find our way aright into the realm of occultism—and this is what we are attempting here, in many connections—then we must learn to understand this mysterious and apparently contradictory formula: Three are one and one are three. To the mediaeval disciple of occultism again and again were the words spoken: “Give heed to what is said to thee; so mayst thou understand the mystery of how the Three can be at the same time One, and the One at the same time Three.”

My dear Friends,

Yesterday we touched upon one part or aspect of the Mysterium Magnum, and some of you will perhaps have felt a certain difficulty in approaching it from the standpoint that we were obliged to take in order to make the matter clear in detail. But the world is complicated,—let us admit that, once for all! And if we really have the desire to rise to the knowledge of higher truths, there is nothing for it but we must be ready to put up with some difficulties on the way.

Let us once more gather up for our consideration what we have to understand by the Mysterium Magnum. We saw on the one hand how it reveals man in his three members—or rather, reveals him as composed of three men each having seven members—so that we can distinguish an upper man, a middle man and a lower man. As we go through the world and have our experiences, these three men seem to be closely and intimately united; everyday consciousness does not distinguish one from another. That was one aspect of the Mystery. The other consists in this,—that the moment man lifts himself out of his ordinary Earth consciousness and attains a consciousness of a higher kind, he is at once faced with the event that I have described in my book Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and its Attainment, where I said how man must then expect his consciousness to be torn into three, his whole being to be rent asunder, so that he is divided into a thinking man, a feeling man and a willing man. Split up, as it were, into these three soul beings,—that is how man feels when he sets out on the path to a higher consciousness. We have thus on the one hand the three times seven-membered man, and on the other hand, as soon as we take a step beyond ordinary consciousness, we have at once a division of this consciousness into three, which means that every aspirant after occultism who becomes clairvoyant must, as you will know from the book; already quoted, strive with all his might to hold together the three members of his consciousness, that he may not fall to pieces in his inner life of soul. It were indeed a tragic destiny for his inner being if that were to happen. Whilst in ordinary life we are continually tempted to bring together the whole nature of man—which is threefold—into a unity and see it as a single and whole human form, for our inner life of soul on the other hand, the moment we step beyond ordinary consciousness, we are immediately made aware that we are in reality a threefold being, and are in imminent danger of being torn into three in our inner life of soul.

We shall best understand how matters really are in this connection if we take our start once again in quite an elementary way from certain facts of everyday life which manifest themselves in full clarity to the occult pupil, but are not at all generally observed. For it is indeed so that already in ordinary life the three soul powers of man—or rather, the several qualities of consciousness that correspond to them and that we are quite accustomed to distinguish one from another—do themselves direct our attention to what we learned to understand yesterday as the three-membered human being.

Look at man as he stands before you in everyday life! What has to take place in him for everyday consciousness to come about? For everyday consciousness to be there—the consciousness that you carry round with you as thinking Earth man—impressions from without must work upon your senses. The senses, in so far as they give us information of Earth life, are principally situated in the head, and the content of consciousness is in the main derived from these senses. Of the three men whom we learned to recognise yesterday in the human being, it is especially the head man, the upper man, that receives the daytime impressions,—the impressions of ordinary consciousness. They make themselves felt inasmuch as man is able to bring to meet them the instrument of his brain, indeed of his whole head.

A little reflection will quickly show you that man as Earth man cannot possibly be a head man alone. We saw yesterday that for occult consideration man falls into three parts, quite distinct from one another; and for man to stand before us as Earth man, the head must obviously be maintained in life by substances and forces which are continually being sent up into it from the second (middle) man. By means of the circulation of the blood, nourishment must flow for the sustenance of the brain. Then the brain is able to meet the external sense impressions in such a way that by means of the instrument of the brain thoughts and ideas arise in man as a result of these sense impressions. Man experiences in ordinary consciousness what arises in this way through the instrumentality of the brain. You know also that this ordinary consciousness ceases when man is asleep; the external sense impressions are not there any more, they have no longer any influence upon him. When man is asleep and the external sense impressions no longer work upon the brain that is sustained by the middle man, naturally the influences that work from the middle man upon the upper man, from the second man upon the first—influences, that is, upon the brain—still go on. For in this middle man breathing is maintained, even during sleep, and the other activities of the middle man continue. Blood is carried up into the brain when man is asleep as well as when he is awake,—though with a difference; for the way in which the instrument of everyday consciousness is sustained by the middle man is not quite the same in waking and in sleep. The difference finds expression in the fact that during sleep the number of breaths we take is considerably less in proportion than when we are awake, and the quantity of carbonic acid gas in our breath is reduced by about one fourth; the manner and method of nourishment also changes during sleep. When, under certain circumstances, the process of nourishment does continue to work in the same way during sleep, it can have very bad results. This is well known from the fact that after an excellent meal one does not generally sleep well; the brain is disturbed in its rest if a heavy meal is taken immediately before going to sleep. There is, therefore, a difference between the conditions of sleep and waking even in the way the middle man works up into the upper man.

Can we see, in ordinary Earth man, any result of this difference? The fact that man shuts himself off from the external world, and that only inside his body—wholly within what we have described as the form or figure of man—an influence is exerted by the forces of the middle man in the direction of the upper man, has the result that ordinary daytime consciousness is extinguished; so that, although during sleep man still has his brain, he does not perceive the influences that are at work from the middle man upon this brain. The influences go on just the same, but they are only present to what we generally term dream consciousness.

This dream consciousness is very complicated. You will, however, have no difficulty in recognising that a particular class of dreams is wholly connected with what takes place in the middle man, and owes its origin to the fact that the brain is able not only to perceive the external world when the sense impressions work upon it, but able also in some way to perceive influences proceeding from the middle man, beholding them in the form of dream pictures that make use of all kinds of symbols. If something is wrong with the heart, it can easily happen that one dreams of it in the symbol of a burning hot fire. If all is not in order in the intestines it may happen that one dreams of snakes. The character and condition of man's inside will often determine the dream, which can then be an indication of what is going on there. Whoever will take the trouble to observe this remarkable connection and study it with the help of external science, will come to the conclusion that irregularities in the middle man are perceived symbolically in dream pictures.

There are also, as you will know, people who have much more far-reaching experiences with dreams of this kind, people who are able to perceive in definite symbolic pictures the oncoming of certain illnesses. A clear connection can frequently be traced in such cases between dream pictures of a symbolic character recurring with absolute regularity and a disease of the lungs or heart or stomach which makes its appearance later.

As it is possible very often to establish, by means of accurate examination on awaking, that when one has dreamed of a burning stove one's heart is beating more quickly than usual, similarly it is possible for diseases of the lung or disorders of the stomach—in fact, for all manner of illnesses that have not yet shown themselves outwardly—to announce their approach symbolically in dream pictures. The human brain, or rather the human soul, is not sensitive only to external impressions that are communicated through the senses but also to the bodily inside,—with this difference, that in the latter case it does not receive correct and true ideas but builds up for itself imaginary and symbolical ideas of what is going forward in the middle man.

The explanation that has been given enables us to recognise the fact that in dreaming man perceives himself. We can truly say: In my dreams I behold myself. We are not, however, aware of this during the dream. We perceive our heart, but we do not know that it is our heart we perceive. We perceive instead a burning hot fire,—that is to say, an object outside ourselves. Something that is inside us is projected outwards and stands there, outside, for our perception. In dream consciousness, therefore, man has to do with the interior of his own body; this means that in dream consciousness he is divided, he is rent asunder. As you know, in the ordinary run of everyday life, we concern ourselves as a rule only with waking and sleeping.

Now, it is not only conditions of the middle man that are perceived in dreams, but also conditions of the upper man, the head man. There are, to begin with, the dreams that owe their origin to some disorder in the head itself. Through what is perceived as a disorder in the head, the brain—or I, should rather say the soul—perceives itself by means of the instrument of the brain. The upper man perceives himself. Such dreams are always extraordinarily characteristic. You have a dream and wake up with a pain in your head; the dream is in this case a symbolical and fanciful reflection of the headache. As a rule such dreams will take the form that they lead you out into vast distances, or you find yourself in a great vault or cave. Especially characteristic of these headache dreams is the experience of an immense vault above one. Something is creeping or crawling in the roof of the cave, or perhaps spiders' webs or some dirt or dust is clinging to it. Or you may dream you are in a great arched palace! In such cases you perceive yourself as upper man,—but again you transpose what you perceive into the world outside you. You go out of yourself and place outside you what is in you, in your head. So here once more we have a kind of division of the human being; he is, as it were, split asunder, he loses himself, extinguishes himself.

The conditions I have been describing are dream conditions, and they show us quite clearly that in dream consciousness man falls asunder; his ego consciousness, his unity of consciousness, does not remain intact, and his dream is in reality always a reflection, a symbolical reflection of what is going on inside his bodily nature.

For the disciple of occultism it is by no means merely a question of passing from ordinary waking consciousness to dream consciousness—there would be nothing unusual in that, No, he must make the transition to a totally different condition of consciousness. By practising the exercises outlined in earlier lectures of this course—through suppression, that is, of the intellect, the will and the memory—he has to get free of himself and attain to a completely new consciousness.

Although, as I have said, this new consciousness is not a dream consciousness, yet if one has no knowledge of clairvoyant consciousness, dream consciousness can help one to come to a fairly good understanding of it. For we can approach it in the following manner. Suppose we ask ourselves: What is it within him that man perceives in dream? then we must answer: Whatever is painful or out of order. A moment's reflection will show us that ordinary normal conditions are not perceived by dream consciousness, If a man is perfectly healthy in his upper and middle man, if everything is in order there, then he sleeps a normal healthy sleep; one cannot in ordinary circumstances—observe, I say advisedly, in ordinary circumstances—expect that his peaceful sleep will be forcibly interrupted with dreams. Now the path that has to be taken by clairvoyant consciousness is one that leads through stages and conditions that are similar to those of dream consciousness. Only, these stages are attained instead by occult training, and it is actually the case that in clairvoyance man does not merely come to a knowledge of the ordinary external painful conditions of his inside, but succeeds in perceiving also its normal conditions, which usually disappear from our consciousness in peaceful sleep. The pupil in clairvoyance comes to a knowledge of these conditions. In other words, he learns to know his brain, his head man, by learning to perceive it inwardly. Similarly, he comes to know his middle man. In the same way as in certain dreams man perceives when asleep his head and middle man, so has the pupil in clairvoyance to attain in the course of his training to a knowledge of his middle and upper man.

Let us now give our special attention to this middle man. If you consider a little, you will have to acknowledge that you find nothing in the middle man that can be immediately and specifically referred to the external world. In the head we have the eyes and the other sense organs that are in direct connection with the external world. Through the sense of touch the middle man has of course the possibility of coming into connection with the external world, for the sense of touch is, as we know, extended over the whole skin. The perception of the external world by the middle man is nevertheless slight and insignificant in comparison with the knowledge of the external world that we acquire through the head man. Even the perception the middle man receives of warmth affects in the main only his own inner experience, his inner sense of well-being. The middle man seems therefore to be a self-enclosed entity, with inner processes that are of very great importance for himself but have little bearing on his relationship to the outside world.

If, however, we go on to enquire whether this inner man has not perhaps some connection with the outside world that is not so obvious to ordinary consciousness, we shall discover that this inner, middle man has, after all, a connection of no little importance with the outside world. Everything depends on the fact that the middle man is adapted to Earth conditions. He has to breathe the air of the Earth, he needs for his nourishment the substances that are produced on the Earth. From this point of view the middle man and the Earth belong together. Were the substances that are necessary to maintain his life not present in his Earthly surroundings, then this middle man could not be as he is. So you see, we are obliged to look upon the middle man as part and parcel of what Earth existence gives to us, we must reckon him as belonging definitely to our existence here on Earth.

Nor is this all. For it is not a question only of what the Earth can give to man. The Earth could be there for a long time, and yet no middle man come into being! If the Sun did not come to the help of the Earth and cause to flourish and ripen upon it what the middle man needs, then the middle man could not exist. This middle man takes the substances he requires for nourishment, and these substances—apart from the air which is of course essential for his sustenance in life, all these substances that nourish him are dependent on the working of the Sun upon the Earth. Whatever man receives into himself as nourishment is produced by the Sun in man's Earthly environment. This means, in effect, that when we study the middle man we have to take account not only of a direct influence of the Earth upon man but also of an indirect influence of the Sun. Were it not for the physical sunlight that illumines the Earth, the middle man would not exist. All that is to be found in the middle man has come into him through the influence of the light of the Sun upon the Earth.

This remarkable fact—that the middle man is a product of the light of the Sun—comes to expression in the following way. When the pupil in occultism becomes clairvoyant, when he develops, that is, a clairvoyant consciousness, then, whereas in dreams pictures arise which are the expression of some disorder in man's inner organs, in the case of clairvoyant consciousness the pictures the pupil receives express what the Sun is doing in the middle man, they show the regular normal activity of the Sun in the middle man. When the pupil becomes clairvoyant and a perception arises in him of his own inner being in its healthy normal state, then he has before him the flowing light; all around him he sees the flowing light. As the dreamer is surrounded by pictures of disorders in his inner man, so is the aspirant after occultism surrounded by phenomena of flowing light. He has, to begin with, this perception of the activity of the Sun in his own inner being.

Compare for a moment ordinary external consciousness with this special consciousness that arises in the clairvoyant. When man, as upper man, directs his gaze to some object of Earth, he looks at it—it is, as you know, generally speaking, the sense of sight that predominates in perception—by means of the sunlight that is thrown back from the external Earth. External, everyday consciousness perceives what the external sunlight does to the things of the Earth; But now it is what the sunlight does to him, what it does in making possible his own middle man, how it penetrates the middle man with its activity,—this it is that reveals itself to man as flowing light when he becomes a pupil of occultism. He beholds the Sun in himself, in the very same way that he sees the Sun outside him from the time when the day begins for as long as it lasts And as he sees objects around him through the fact that sunlight is thrown back from them, so now he sees, when he has reached a certain stage of clairvoyance, something that is of the nature of Sun reflected back from his own inner being. It is the form of the middle man that shows itself thus illuminated. That is, then, one experience.

If you were to go back into olden times and study what was done and experienced in the ancient Mystery Schools, you would find that the aspirant after occultism learned to perceive the Sun in its reflection in his own middle man,—learned, that is, to perceive the workings of the Sun that continue even when man is asleep, and that escape him during waking consciousness because his attention is entirely claimed by the external consciousness. Man as a Sun being,—that was what the pupil came to perceive at a particular stage of initiation in the Mysteries. He learned to recognise the Sun being in himself, in his very own being, he learned how the Sun works not only outwardly in the objects, in the reflected light, but works also within the bodily form of man.

But now the pupil, who is beginning to be clairvoyant, has to learn something else. He has to discover something that is comparable with the dreams of the brain, those dreams that reflect back disordered conditions of the brain, where, as I told you, in typical cases man always perceives symbols, imagining, for example, that he is in a cave or a palace, having over him a great vaulted roof into which he is gazing. When the pupil in occultism is led on to perceive not only the conditions of his middle man but also the conditions of his upper man (in so far as the latter has form and figure), the conditions of the interior of the head man, then he never has the same experience as he has in his perception of the middle man. Instead he has now before him—I am simply relating the facts—what appears like a perfectly well-ordered and regular extension of the dream that is connected with excitement or irritation of the brain. Only, it is experienced in full consciousness. What man perceives when he has closed all his sense organs and has no external perception, when he directs all his attention in clairvoyant consciousness upon himself inwardly—upon the upper man, the brain man—is in very fact the starry heavens. He beholds the great vault of heaven with the stars.

It was a great moment in the life of the pupil, especially in the more ancient Mysteries—we shall hear later to what extent it underwent change in the later Mysteries—it was a great moment when the pupil perceived his own inner being, in so far as this inner being comes to expression in the human form. When he saw the upper man, it was as though he saw the heavens with all the shining stars; he looked out into the wide world—in spite of the fact that he had no physical senses open. The picture of the starry heavens stood before him. And then came the greatest moment of all when this pupil of occultism observed not what is, so to speak, on the upper surface of his head, but when he looked down from the upper man, from the head, to the middle man, when he perceived, without opening any of his senses, the lower surface of his brain and from it saw the middle man irradiated with light. Himself in total darkness (for his senses were closed, and to outward appearance he was like a man who is asleep), he perceived, looking downwards inwardly, the Sun in the night, in the midst of the dark surface of the heavens. This is what was called in the ancient Mysteries “Seeing the Sun at Midnight,”—seeing, that is, the flowing sunlight within the stars, whose influence in relation to the Sun seems so small. These experiences were important milestones in the life of every aspirant after occultism.

Having come so far, the pupil was then able to apprehend a truth of great significance, He could say: “In the same way as I perceive through the medium of myself, by beholding my middle man, the flowing sunlight, the true and real working of the Sun, so now can I perceive through the medium of the upper man the heavenly spaces with their stars. That I can see the stars, that all is not wrapped in darkness, is due to the fact that the brain is adapted to the stars, as the middle man is adapted to the Sun.” Thus did the pupil come to the knowledge that even as the middle man is sustained by the Sun, even as its whole being depends on the Sun and belongs to the Sun, so does the upper man, the brain man, belong to the whole world and its stars.

When the pupil had had this experience, then he could go to those who possessed only a day consciousness but who, nevertheless, felt an impulse—springing from a deep inner need, from a longing of their soul—to find relationship with a consciousness that should reach out beyond Earth man. In other words, the pupil in occultism could go to men who were religiously inclined, who were able in some way to feel their connection with the great world, and say to them: “Man as he stands on Earth, is not merely a being belonging to this Earth, he is a being that belongs in part, namely in breast and trunk, to the Sun,—and belongs also, as head man, to the whole of cosmic space.” This was what the pupil could tell the religious man, imparting it to him as information; and in the religious man it turned into prayer, into worship.

The disciples of occultism came in this way among men as founders of religion, and according as was the relation of the people to whom they came to the one or other part of man's nature, so they were able to speak more of the one or the other. To people who were more particularly disposed to experience a certain happiness in the sense of well-being in the inner man—people, that is, who were inclined to make their whole mood in life depend on the bodily well-being of the middle man—to such the pupils in occultism could come as founders of religion and say: “Your sense of well-being depends on the Sun.” These people then became, through the influence of the pupils in occultism, followers of a Sun religion. You may be quite sure that all over the Earth, wherever lived people of the kind I have described, for whom it mattered above all that they should have their attention drawn to the source of their sense of well-being, there a Sun worship arose.

To think that men just happened to become Sun worshippers without any deeper reason for it is a mere flight of imagination on the part of all obstinately materialistic science. When the scholar:, of our time speak of how this or that section of mankind came to be Sun worshippers, they are really only demonstrating their own powers of imagination and fantasy. The materialists of today are quite mistaken when they accuse theosophists of an inclination to be fantastic, implying that they themselves are the true realists. Taken as a whole, materialism is certainly not lacking in a tendency to be fantastic, as we can see in this case when it sets out to explain how certain peoples became Sun worshippers. For it builds up an imaginary picture and comes to the conclusion that through the working of certain external conditions or circumstances the people, moved by some unaccountable impulse, hit upon the idea of worshipping the Sun; whereas the truth of the matter is that the initiates, the aspirants after occultism, knew in the case of certain peoples:—We have here a people who manifest especially the virtue of courage, a people in whom one can see a striking development of the middle man; we must teach this people how in the super-sensible one can behold the fact that this middle-man is a product of the working of the Sun. And the initiates in occultism then led such people, in whom the middle man was of greatest importance, away from the mere sense of well-being, the mere living within themselves, to prayer and worship, teaching them to look up in religious devotion to the Being who was the source of this middle man. Thus did they guide these people to a worship of the Sun.

This one example can serve to show the tendency there is in materialism to build up fantastic theories. Other striking examples could be brought forward. We have, for instance, had perforce to read—for they have been thrust under our very eyes—all manner of descriptions of our Munich Building.¹ Through an indiscretion it came about that the project found its way into the newspapers, and the materialistic man of today has formed his own idea of what the Building is and what its purpose. A profusion of fantastic information has been spread abroad, quite enough to demonstrate that fantasy is a quality of present-day thinking. When it is a matter of speaking or writing about things of which he knows absolutely nothing, the man of today does not hesitate to have recourse to the wildest fancies in order to construct an explanation. This is so in ordinary everyday life, and it is so too in the realm of science. The majority of the explanations put forward by the scholars of today are sheer fantasy; and the attempt to describe or account for Sun worship is certainly no exception.

Other peoples on the Earth had less inclination to develop the middle man and were more disposed to think, to have ideas,—that is, to develop the upper man; and to them another kind of appeal had to be made. The occultists who went forth into the world as founders of religion turned the attention of these peoples to seek the source of the instrument whereby they were able to produce thoughts, to live in thoughts and in ideas. The occultists said to them: “If you want to have knowledge of the source of your life of thought, then—since you are not able to gaze into the super-sensible worlds of the heavens (of course the initiates did not say this, I am adding it)—you will have an external reflection of this source if you remain awake during the night and look up in prayer to the star-strewn heavens.”

A genuine Star worship—a worship, one can also say, of the Night, for the truth was often clothed in such a way that instead of speaking of the starry heavens the night was substituted—such a Star or Night Worship prevailed among peoples who were more given to thought. Peoples of ancient times who were fond of thinking and pondering and delving deep into things,—for them religions were founded that pointed them to the source of the instrument of their thinking, the source, that is, of their upper man. And many of the names borne by the most ancient Gods of certain peoples have to be rendered in modern languages by the word “Night.” The Night was the object of worship, the Night in all the mystery of her appearance as the Mother of the Stars, who brings them forth that they may shine in the heavens. For the initiates in occultism knew that the instrument of the brain is really and truly a product of the Star-strewn Night.

Similarly, we will often find that the people who were Sun worshippers were not only guided to look to the Sun; but as man was led from the Stars to the Mother Night and many old-time words for the ancient Gods are to be interpreted as meaning Night, so in the case of the Sun man's attention was drawn to the fact that the Sun gave rise to the Day, that the Sun made Day. In consequence, many words used for Sun worship among peoples who specifically worshipped the Sun as the highest divine Power, are to be translated with the word “Day.”

Speaking generally, we can say that where peoples felt themselves strong and courageous and ready for war, we find them to be in the main Sun worshippers or Day worshippers, because their initiates directed them to the Sun, to the Day, for their object of worship. The more thoughtful and enquiring peoples on the other hand are Night or Star worshippers, because they have been guided that way by their initiates.

We come, finally, to still another kind of people. For there are peoples who do not experience in so characteristic a manner the sharp division between Day consciousness and Night consciousness. When we go back into olden times, we find many peoples who had preserved middle or in-between conditions of consciousness, who did not merely alternate in their life between Day and Night, between consciousness and unconsciousness, but who had an old clairvoyant consciousness which came about through the merging of Day with Night consciousness into a kind of semi-consciousness. We find therefore this third condition of consciousness.

These people also divined through their condition of consciousness a connection between man and something outside the Earth. How was it they came to have such a feeling? To answer this question we must realise that they were possessed of a peculiar faculty or quality in the very form of their bodily nature. They were, as we have said, endowed,—as in olden times almost all men were endowed, the world over—with an ancient clairvoyance, and they had the peculiar faculty of being able to perceive in certain conditions of consciousness their “symmetry” man,—not, however, as symmetry man, but they could perceive this middle man in its working upon the upper man.

If you want to form a picture of what took place in such a person, then you must imagine a picture of the middle man in the brain. In ordinary normal life on Earth, the sense impressions from without work upon the brain and the brain throws back pictures; it places, that is, its own being in the way and holds up the pictures that come from outside. Our idea of the world comes about in this way as a reflected picture thrown back by the brain. For that is what all ideas of the outside world really are,—pictures thrown back, reflected by the brain. When you look at the world, then the outer impressions pass through the eye up to a certain place in the brain and are there caught. That an idea can come into being is due to the fact that the impressions are caught up at a certain point, not allowed to pass through—not, at all events, in their entirety—but reflected back. And when a man becomes clairvoyant, it is no longer external objects alone that make impressions on the brain, impressions are made from the middle man, which can then be reflected back by the brain.

What I have just now described—the impressions made by the middle man upon the brain and the reflection by the latter of these impressions—is still very far from the process I described as taking place in the true aspirant after occultism. The latter has direct and immediate perception of his middle man, he does not merely perceive it through the brain. He looks into himself and sees there what belongs to the Sun, sees too in his brain what belongs to the Stars. The clairvoyant state, on the other hand, of which we are now speaking, where the processes inside man, the Sun nature in the middle man, are reflected by the brain—even as the outer impressions that come through the senses are reflected by the brain,—is characteristic of the old clairvoyance of men in ancient time. For them, perception took place by way of the middle man. They did not, to begin with, perceive external things at all. They perceived only the Sun-like that was present in themselves and they perceived it in reflection, for it was held up by the brain and they perceived it as an idea of the Sun nature within them.

There have been peoples of this character, who in certain naturally clairvoyant states caught hold, as it were, with their brain of the Sun nature within them and made of the perception an idea. How did it then appear to them? It was projected outwards, but was not perceived like the ideas to which we are accustomed, and which have their source in the world outside; it appeared like inner Sunlight,—yet as coming from without. And when investigation was made into the source of the appearance, when the aspirants after occultism set out to learn how it was that they found themselves in such conditions, then they were made clearly aware of the Sun nature that is in the middle man. Man has this Sun-like element in him, because he is himself a Sun being. That which manifests in the instrument of the brain is connected with the fact that man is a Star being, that he is in very truth formed and shaped from out of the whole of Cosmic space. What he now perceives, however, has relation to the fact that the Earth has revolving around it the Moon, and that the Moon in her revolution round the Earth has a powerful influence on the being of man.

In those olden times man was so constituted that the Moon had a particularly strong influence on his brain. The consequence was that the ancient clairvoyance was very dependent on the phases of the Moon, and showed itself for the most part in connections that found expression in the phases of the Moon. For a space of fourteen days clairvoyance increased, and then for fourteen days it decreased again. Its influence was thus greatest in the middle of such a Moon period. There were times when men knew: We are Sun beings. They knew it because they could perceive the Sun through the inner idea formed in the brain. But this came about through the influence of the Moon. The old clairvoyance often worked in the way I indicated. Man gave himself up throughout the whole twenty-eight days to the waxing and waning of the Moon. There were days when the influence of the Moon was particularly strong and when in consequence clairvoyance was present in everyone; inner clairvoyant consciousness made itself felt in all men. When initiates in occultism came to people of this kind with the mission of determining for them the character of their religion, then for the same reason that other peoples were made Sun (or Day) worshippers and Star (or Night) worshippers, the initiates made this third kind of people Moon worshippers. Hence the worship of the Moon, that is to be found among many ancient peoples.

Moses learned to know this Moon worship in its original form from the Egyptian initiates, and was himself one of the greatest of those who made Moon worship into the religion of a people. For Moses made it the religion of the ancient Hebrew people. The Jahve worship of the ancient Hebrew people is a highly spiritualised Moon worship. And it enabled the Hebrew people to retain into later times the consciousness that man is connected with what is outside and beyond the Earth, that his being is not confined to the Earth.

Now it was so with the Moon worshippers of very olden times, as it was also with the Sun and Star worshippers, that there was very little knowledge among the people themselves of how Stars, Sun and Moon appeared to the clairvoyant—spiritualised, that is, and not at all as objects that are seen with external organs. The people of olden times would not have understood if they had been told: “Pray to what is the source and origin of your middle man, but do not imagine it like the picture of the Sun that can be perceived with the senses; think of it as something super-sensible that is behind the Sun.” Just as little would the Star worshippers have understood if they had been told that the organ of their thinking had its origin in the far Cosmic spaces, but that they were not to imagine that this meant, in the picture of the starry heavens as it can be perceived with the outer eye, they were to think rather of the invisible that is behind the starry heavens, the multitude of spiritual Beings that are in the Stars. This was known to the initiates, but it could not be said to the Sun and Star worshippers. Similarly it would have been of no use at all to say to the Moon peoples: “Imagine to yourselves an invisible Being who has as it were his outer body in the Moon.” It was, however, possible to say something else, and this is what Moses did say to the Hebrew people. It could not have been said to the more ancient Moon worshippers but only to the ancient Hebrew people. For Moses did not direct his people to the visible Moon, but to the Being in whom lay the origin of the ancient clairvoyance of all peoples. This clairvoyance had been given to man,—as a kind of compensation, when he was placed into the condition of having to alternate with his consciousness between day and night; and it brought him a knowledge of the world, that resembled what comes to expression in the reflected rays of the Sun. The reflection of the Sun could only be something external for man, could only give him an Earth consciousness—a day consciousness, and a night consciousness that at most was aware only of the external visible world of stars—and so a clairvoyance was given to the man of ancient times as a compensation; it was given him through the possibility of alternation in this day and night consciousness,—an old clairvoyance that is derived from the spiritual Being of the Moon and has also relation, locally, with the Moon.

When in the course of evolution the time came for this clairvoyant consciousness gradually to grow dim and fade away, a more spiritual substitute was created for the ancient Hebrew folk in the invisible Moon Being Jahve or Jehovah of whom Moses taught, and who, he said, must never be confused with anything that can be seen outwardly nor with any picture that is made of Him for outward vision. Therefore did Moses categorically forbid the Hebrew people to regard any picture in the outside world as a picture of Jahve; he forbade them any picture or image whatsoever that might represent something which is not a product of the outside world, forbade them also to make any picture taken from the outside world, of the invisible, super-sensible God.

The Jahve religion is thus seen to stand in a remarkable relation to a Moon religion that was given by the old clairvoyance in the very earliest days of mankind. For the sake of those to whom it is of interest, we may here mention that it was H. P. Blavatsky who, on absolutely authentic grounds, pointed out that the Jahve religion was in a certain respect a kind of revival of the old Moon religion. H. P. Blavatsky, however, did not come so far in her research as we are able to do today, consequently the connection that has here been set forth was not fully clear to her. The knowledge that the Jahve religion is a Moon religion rather suggested to H. P. Blavatsky that this old Jahve religion was a little less worthy on that account. This is, however, not the case at all. When one knows that the Jahve religion of the ancient Hebrew people has its origin in the old clairvoyance and preserves, so to speak, the memory of the old clairvoyance, then one is able to perceive and appreciate the sacredness and depth of this Jahve religion.

Our study has brought us to an understanding of certain important experiences of the aspirants after occultism, who in a higher consciousness are able to learn by real experience that man belongs in his being to the entire world, perceiving how the middle man is in reality a Sun man, and the upper man a Star man. And we have also seen what occultism is able to recognise in the external religions, namely, that they were in great measure given to mankind as very ancient religions and even as ancient theosophies. For when the man of olden times developed a need for worship and prayer, in that moment something of the old clairvoyance began to stir within him, so that he had no need merely to believe what the old initiates told him but was able to comprehend it even though he could not actually see it. The ancient religions are thus to a great extent theosophies. And the theosophical teachings that were given by the occultists were determined according to the section of the earth which that particular people was destined to inhabit.

As you will have seen, we have for the moment had to leave out the lower man,—the third seven-membered man. We shall return to it, and we shall find in what a remarkable manner the “Great Mystery” was brought before the pupil, and how the pupil undergoes still further development by means of the initiation which alone can lead to an understanding of the true nature of man.

• 1. It was at first intended to erect a Building for Anthroposophy in Munich. The project had, however, to be abandoned in 1914. (Note by Translator.)