LECTURE VII.
Delivered 15th July, 1924.
I
propose to devote the time that remains at our disposal
to the consideration of the rearing of live-stock and the
cultivation of fruit and vegetables.
Naturally there will not be time to treat the subject at very
great length, but in order to obtain a fruitful starting point,
we must gain insight into all the factors which come into
consideration. We shall do this to-day, and tomorrow we shall
pass on to the more practical aspect of the subject.
I
shall ask you to-day to join me in the consideration of rather
more recondite matters, to follow me into what is nowadays an
almost unknown territory, although the instinctive
husbandry of the past was thoroughly conversant with it. The
beings in Nature — minerals, plants, animals
— we will disregard man for the moment — are often
regarded as though, they existed in completely separate realms.
It is the custom to-day to look at a plant as though it existed
by and for itself, and similarly one species of plant is also
regarded as being isolated from other plant species. So these
things are neatly sorted and fitted into genera and species, as
though they were being put into boxes. But things are not like
this in Nature. In Nature — nay, in the world —
being as a whole, all things are in mutual interaction. One
thing is always being affected by another. In these
materialistic days, only the more palpable effects of this
interaction are noted, such as when one thing is eaten or
digested by another, or when the dung of animals is used for
the soil. In addition to these, however, finer interactions
amongst more delicate forces and substances are continually
taking place: through warmth, through the chemical-etheric
element which is continually at work in the atmosphere,
and through the life-ether. Unless we take account of these
more delicate interactions, we shall make no progress, at any
rate in certain departments of Agriculture. In particular
we must look to those more intimate interactions which take
place in Nature when we have to deal with the life together of
plant and animal on the farm. We must look with understanding
not only upon those animals which undoubtedly stand close to
us, such as cattle, horses, sheep, etc., but also, for example,
upon the manifold insect world, which during a certain period
of the year hovers around the plants. Indeed, we must learn to
look with understanding at bird-life too. Humanity to-day is
very far from realising how much farming and forestry are
affected by the expulsion from certain districts of
certain kinds of birds as a result of modern conditions.
Here again light can be thrown on the subject by
conceptions given by Spiritual Science. Let us therefore
extend some of these ideas which have been working upon us and
come by their help to a yet wider vision.
A
fruit tree — apple, pear or plum — is something
completely different in kind from a herbaceous or cereal plant
as any kind of tree outwardly is indeed. But, putting
aside any preconceived notions, we must find out wherein the
peculiarity of the tree lies. Otherwise we shall never
understand the function fulfilled by fruits in the economy of
Nature. I am speaking, of course, of the fruit that grows on
trees. If we look at a tree with understanding we shall find
that the only parts of it which can really be reckoned as plant
are the tender twigs, the green leaves and their stalks, the
blossoms, the fruits. These grow out of the tree just as
herbaceous plants grow out of the soil, the tree being
in fact “earth” in relation to the parts that grow
out of it. It is as though the soil were heaped up — but
a somewhat more quickened soil than the ordinary soil in which
our herbaceous and cereal plants grow.
If,
therefore, we want to understand the nature of a tree, we must
observe that it consists of the thick trunk, to which are
attached the branches and boughs. On this ground the
specifically plant-like parts grow, viz. leaves and blossoms,
which are as much rooted in the trunk and branches as cereal
and herbaceous plants are rooted in the earth. The question
therefore arises: is this plant this plant-like part —
which may be regarded as more or less parasitical, really
rooted in the tree?
We
cannot discover an actual root on the trees. We conclude,
therefore, that this plant, which develops its leaves and
blossoms and twigs up aloft, must have lost its roots in
growing on the tree. But no plant is complete without its root.
It must have a root. Where, then, does the actual root of this
plant reside?
Diagrams
for Lecture VII
Now, the root is only invisible for our limited outer vision.
In this case one does not see it, but has to understand where
it is. What do we mean by this? The following concrete
comparison may help. Suppose I planted a large number of
herbaceous plants so closely together that their roots were
intertwined and grew into each other, forming a completely
matted mass or pap of roots. You can well imagine that this pap
does not remain chaotic, but that it organises itself into a
unity so that the sap-bearing vessels unite with each other. In
this organised root-pap, it would not be possible to
distinguish where one root finished. and the other began, and a
common root-organ would arise
(See Diag. No. 12).
A thing like that does not, of course, exist in the soil, but such
a root-formation is actually present in the The plants that grow
on the tree have lost their root, have become relatively
separated from it and are only, as it were, etherically
connected with it. What I have drawn hypothetic ally is
really the layer of cambium (a layer of living cells lying
between the last-formed wood and the outer bark) in the tree
and we cannot regard the roots of these plants otherwise than
as having been replaced by the cambium. From this tissue, which
is always forming new cells, these plants unfold
themselves just as from the root below an herbaceous plant
unfolds above the soil. We can now begin to understand what the
tree really is. The tree with its cambium — which is the
only cell-producing layer in the tree, is actually heaped-up
earth, which has grown upwards into the air element and
therefore requires a more interiorised form of
life than is present in the ordinary soil which contains the
root. Thus, we must regard the tree as a very curious entity,
whose function it is to separate the “plants”
growing on it (twigs, blossoms, fruit; from their roots; an
entity which places between them and their roots a distance
which is bridged only by spirit — or more strictly by the
Etheric. It is in this way we need to look, with a macro-cosmic
understanding, into the facts of growth.
But
the matter goes much farther. What results arise from the
existence of a tree? That which is around the tree in the air
and outer warmth is of a different plant-nature from that which
grows up from the soil in the air and warmth and forms the
herbaceous plant. It is a plant-world of a different order,
possessing a far more intimate relation with the surrounding
astral element. Lower down that element is eliminated from the
air and warmth in order to make them mineral-like, so that they
can be used by man and beast. [See Lecture II. They become
“dead” air and warmth.]
It
is true, as I have said, that the plant we see rowing upon the
ground is surrounded, as with a cloud. v the astral element.
But around the tree, the astral element is far denser. So much
so, that we may say: Our trees are definitely collectors of
astral substance.
Here one might say it is quite easy to reach a higher
development and become “esoteric” — I do not
mean clairvoyant but clair-sentient as to the sense of smell.
One has only to acquire the capacity for distinguishing between
the scent of plants growing in the ground, the peculiar smell
of orchards, especially in the spring when they are in flower,
and the aroma of forests. Then one is able to tell the
difference between a plant atmosphere poor in astral elements,
such as that of herbaceous plants growing in the soil and an
atmosphere such as we sniff with such pleasure when the scent
of trees is wafted in our direction. And if you train your
sense of smell to distinguish between the scent of soil-grown
(herbaceous) plants and the scent of trees, you will have
developed “clear-smelling” for the thinner and for
the denser forms of the astral element. The countryman, as you
see, can very easily acquire this “clear-smelling”
though this faculty, common in the old days of instinctive
clairvoyance, has been much neglected in recent
times.
If,
now, we realise the consequences to which this may lead the
question will arise: What is happening in that part of the tree
which may be regarded as the opposite pole from the
“parasitical” plants on the tree which collect this
astral element. What is happening through the cambium?
Now. the tree makes the atmosphere far and wide around it
richer in astral element. What happens while the
“parasite” growth goes on above in the tree? The
tree here has a certain inner vitality, a powerful etheric life
in it. The cambium tones down this vitality, making it more
mineral in nature. “While about the upper part of the
tree an enrichment of the astral substance is going on, the
cambium causes an impoverishment of the etheric life in the
tree. The tree within is deprived of etheric life as compared
with the herbaceous plant. In consequence, this produces
a change in the root. The root of the tree becomes more
mineral, far more mineral than the roots of the herbaceous
plants. But by becoming more mineral, the tree-root withdraws
some of the etheric life from the soil; it makes the soil
around the tree slightly more dead than it would be
around a herbaceous plant. This must be fully borne in mind,
for these natural processes always have a great
significance in the economy of Nature. We must therefore seek
to understand the significance of the astral wealth in
the atmosphere around the tree and of the etheric poverty in
the region of the roots.
If
we look around us, we can find the further connection. It
is the fully developed insect which lives on and weaves in this
enriched astral element which wafts through the trees; whereas
the impoverished etheric element beneath, spreading in
the soil and throughout the whole tree (for, as I pointed out
yesterday in connection with human Karma, a spiritual element
always works throughout the whole being) is that which harbours
the' larvae or grubs. Thus, if there were no trees on the earth
there would be no insects. The insects that flutter around the
upper parts of the trees and through the forests depend for
their life upon the presence of the trees; and exactly the same
thing is true of the grubs.
Here we have yet another indication of the inner
connection between all roots and animal life beneath the
soil. This is especially evident in the case of the trees. But
this same principle which is so striking in the case of the
trees is present in a modified form throughout the whole of the
vegetable world, for in every plant there lives something that
tends to become a tree. In every plant the root and what is
around it tends to throw off the etheric life whereas the upper
growth strives to attract the astral element more closely to
itself. For this reason, there arises in every plant that
kinship with the insect world which I have specially
characterised in the case of the tree.
This relation, however, to the insect world in fact extends so
as to comprise the whole of the animal world. In former times
insect grubs, which can only live upon the earth because of the
presence of tree roots, transformed themselves into other
kinds of animals, similar to larvae and remaining at the larva
stage throughout their lives. These animals then emancipated
themselves to a certain extent from the tree-root nature and
adopted a life which extends also to the root region of
herbaceous plants. And now we find the curious fact that
certain of these sub-terrestrial animals, though far removed
from being larvae, yet have the ability to regulate the amount
of etheric life in the soil if this amount becomes
excessive. When the soil becomes, as it were, too much
alive and the sprouting etheric life too strong, these animals
of the soil see to it that this excess is reduced. They are
thus wonderful vents which regulate the vitality in the
soil.
These lovely creatures, for they are of the greatest value to
the earth are no other than the common earthworms. One
ought to study the life of earth-worms in relation to the soil,
for these wonderful animals allow just that amount of etheric
life to remain in the soil as is needed for the growth of
plants. Thus, in the soil we have these creatures, earth-worms
and their like, distantly resembling larvae. One ought in
fact to see to it that certain soils which require it, are
supplied with a healthful stock of worms. We should soon see
how beneficent such a control over this animal-world in.
the soil can be, not only for vegetation but also thereby for
the rest of the animal kingdom, as we shall show later.
Now
there are certain animals which bear a distant resemblance to
the insect world, to that part of it which is fully developed
and winged, I mean the birds. It is well known that in the
course of the development of the earth something very wonderful
took place between the birds and the insects. It is as though,
to put it figuratively, the insects had one day said:
“We do not feel strong enough to ‘work-up’ the astrality
sparkling around the trees, we shall therefore use the
‘desire-to-be-a-tree’ of other plants. We shall flutter around
these, and leave largely to you birds the astral life that
surrounds the trees.” Thus, there arose in Nature a
proper “division of labour” between the birds and
the butterflies; and this co-operation in the winged world
brought about in a wonderful manner the right distribution of
astral life wherever it was required on the surface of the
earth. If these winged creatures are removed, the astral life
will fail to accomplish its proper function, and this will be
noticeable in the stunted condition of the vegetation. The two
things are connected; the world of winged animals and all that
grows out of the soil into the air. The one is unthinkable
without the other. In farming, therefore, we must see to
it that birds and insects fly about as they were meant to do;
and the farmer should know something about the breeding and
rearing of birds and insects. For in Nature — I
must repeat this again and again — everything, everything
is connected.
These considerations are of the utmost importance for a right
understanding of the questions before us and we must therefore
hold them very clearly in our minds. The winged world of
insects brings about the proper distribution of astrality
in the air. The astrality in the air has a mutual relationship
with the forest which directs it in the proper way, much as in
the human body the blood is directed by certain forces. And
this activity of the forest, which is effective over a
very wide area, will have to be undertaken by something quite
different in a district where there is no forest. Indeed, in
districts where woods alternate with arable land and meadows
that which grows in the soil comes under quite different laws
from those which rule in completely unwooded districts.
There are certain parts of the earth which were obviously
wooded areas long before man took a hand. In certain matters,
Nature is cleverer than we are. and it may safely be assumed
that if a forest grows naturally in a certain district it will
have its uses for the neighbouring fields and for the
herbaceous and cereal vegetation round about. In such
districts one ought therefore to have the intelligence not to
uproot the woods but to cultivate them. Ana as the earth is
gradually changing through climatic and cosmic influences of
all kinds, one should have the courage, when the vegetation
becomes poor, not merely to indulge in all sorts of experiments
in the fields and for the fields, but to increase the area of
woods in the neighbourhood. And when plants run to leaf,
lacking the power to produce seed, one should take bites out of
the neighbouring woods. The regulation of woods in districts
which Nature intended to De wooded is an integral part of
agriculture, and must be examined with all its consequences
from a spiritual point of view.
Again, the world of grubs and worms may be said to stand in a
mutual relationship to the lime, i.e. to the mineral part of
the earth; while the world of birds and insects, of all that
flies and flutters about, has a similar relationship to
the astral element. The relation between the worm and grub
world and lime brings about the drawing off of the etheric
element, as I explained a few days ago, from a different point
of view. This is the function of lime, but it performs this
function in cooperation with the world of worms and
grubs.
If
these ideas are carried out in more detail, they will lead to
other things which — and that is why I have expounded
them with such confidence — were applied, in the days of
instinctive clairvoyance, in the right way. But this instinct
has been lost, rooted out by the intelligence, as have been all
such instincts. Materialism is to blame for men's having become
so clever and intellectual. In the days when they were not
intellectual, they were not so clever, but they were far wiser
and learned through their feelings how to go about things; and
we must learn to act with wisdom once again through
Anthroposophy, but this time the wisdom will be conscious. For
Anthroposophy is by no means something clever and intellectual
— it strives for wisdom. And we must try to draw near to
wisdom in all things and not be content merely to learn
by rote an abstract jingle of words, such as “Man
consists of a physical body, etc.” The main point is that
we should introduce this knowledge into everything; then one
finds the way to discriminate — especially if one really
becomes clairvoyant in the sense that I have explained to you
— and to see things in Nature as they really are. We
shall discover, for example, that birds can become harmful if
they are not in the neighbourhood of a wood of conifers which
can turn what they do into something useful. Our vision is then
further sharpened and we begin to discern the presence of yet
another relationship. It is a very delicate relationship,
similar to those I have been dealing with, but which can
appear in a more tangible form. All growing things that are
neither trees nor small plants, i.e. all shrubs such as the
hazel bush have, an intimate relationship with mammals. If,
therefore, we wish to improve the mammals on our farm, we shall
do well to plant such bush-like growths. The mere presence of
the bushes has a beneficent influence, for in Nature all things
stand in constant reciprocal relationship.
But
let us go a step further. Animals are not so foolish as human
beings. They very soon notice the presence of this
relationship. They find that they like these shrubs; this
liking is inborn in them, and they enjoy eating them. They
begin to eat what they need of the shrubs, and this has a
wonderfully regulating effect upon the rest of their diet. But
this insight into the intimate relations in Nature will also
throw light upon the nature of harmful influences. Just as
conifer woods stand in intimate relationship to birds and
shrubs to mammals? so do all kinds of fungi stand in
a relation similarly intimate to the lower animals, to
bacteria and the like, viz. to parasites. Harmful parasites are
closely connected with fungi. They develop where fungus-life is
dispersed. In this way, there arise plant diseases and other
greater ills in plants. If, however, we can contrive to nave
not only woods, but also well-watered meadows suitably
situated in the neighbourhood of cultivated lands, these
will be useful in forming a good breeding ground for fungi. One
should see to it that the moist meadows are well-planted with
such growths. We then make the following remarkable discovery,
that if a meadow, not necessarily very large, but rich in fungi
(e.g. mushrooms) is situated near cultivated land then the
fungi, because of their kinship with bacteria and other
parasites, will keep these creatures away from the
farming-land. For mushrooms “hang together” with
these little creatures more than do other plants. Thus, in
addition to the other methods I have advocated for combating
plant pests there is also the possibility of keeping these tiny
creatures, these vermin away from cultivated land by converting
land in its vicinity into meadows.
It
is so important for success in agriculture that the right
amount of acreage should be assigned respectively to
woods, orchards, shrubberies and meadows with a natural growth
of fungi, that one often gets better results-even if one
reduces the extent of tilled land accordingly. Generally
speaking, to cultivate the whole of the acreage at one's
disposal, leaving no room for the other factors of which I have
spoken, and to count in consequence upon larger crops is
certainly no real economy. The extension of the tilled area is
counterbalanced by a lowering in the quality of the produce
because the increase in the cultivated area is made at
the cost of the other factors. One cannot be engaged in a thing
like farming where Nature is the “manager,” without
realising the inter-connections and inter — actions which
exist between all her processes.
Now
let us look at something which will make clear to us the
relation of plant to animal and, conversely, of animal to
plant. What is an animal in reality, and what is the
plant-world? (In the case of plants it is better to speak of
the whole of the plant-world). We must look for the
relationship between the two because only by this means can we
come to understand the feeding of animals. For feeding is only
properly done if it is done in accord with the true
relationship between plant and animal. What are animals? We
examine them, we even dissect them, study their muscles and
nerves and admire the forms of their skeleton. But this does
not tell us what an animal is in the whole economy of Nature.
We shall only get at this if we grasp what it is with which the
animal is most intimately connected in its environment.
Now
with its system of nerves and senses and with part of its
breathing system, the animal “works-up” all that
which comes through the air and warmth. The animal does this to
the extent that it is a separate being.
(See Diag. No. 14).
We may make a schematic drawing to indicate this. With
regard to everything lying in its periphery, the animal
lives with its nerves and sense system and part of its
breathing system immediately in air and warmth. The animal has
an immediate connection with air and warmth, its bony system
being actually formed from the warmth which in particular
mediates the influences of the sun and the moon. Its muscular
system is formed from the air, which again works as a mediator
of the forces of sun and moon. But as regards its relation to
earth and water, the animal is not able directly to assimilate.
It must first absorb them into its digestive tract and then
work on them with what it has itself become through air and
warmth; it works upon earth and water with its metabolic
system and with a part of its breathing system, which passes
over into the metabolic system. The animal must therefore have
already come into existence by virtue of air and warmth if it
is to be able to “work up” earth and water. This,
therefore, is the animal's way of living in the sphere of earth
and water. The process of transformation which I have
described takes place, of course, by means of forces
(dynamically) rather than by means of substances
(materially).
Let
us now try to answer the question: What is a plant?
The
plant stands in an immediate relation to earth and water just
as the animal does to air and warmth. The plant,
therefore? through a kind of breathing and through
something very distantly resembling a sense system absorbs
earth and water in the same direct manner as the animal absorbs
air and warmth. Thus, the plant and earth and water live
directly together. And now? of course, you will say:
If the plant lives in immediate contact with earth and water as
the animal does with air and warmth, then no doubt the plant
“works up” air and warmth inside itself just as the
animal “works up” earth and water? But this is not
the case. We cannot reach spiritual truths merely by analogy.
The fact is that whereas the animal absorbs earth and water
into itself, the plant actually gives off the air and warmth
which it experiences dimly through its connection with the
soil.
Thus, air and warmth do not go into the plant, or at any rate
do not enter deeply into it; instead of being devoured by the
plant, air and warmth are given off by it. And this process of
elimination is the important thing. Organically the plant
stands in inverse relation to the animal. That which in the
animal is important as a process of nutrition becomes in the
plant an elimination of air and warmth, and as in that
sense we can say that the animal lives by absorbing food, in
the same sense does the plant live by giving off air and
warmth. And in virtue of that quality it may be said that the
plant is virginal. Its character is not to absorb greedily but
actually to give out that which the animal takes from the world
in order to live. Thus, the plant lives by giving.
In
this giving and taking, we can recognise something which
played a very important part in the old instinctive
knowledge of these matters. “In Nature's economy, the
plant gives and the animal takes.” What is contained in
this saying garnered from Anthroposophy was once common
property in times of instinctive clairvoyance into Nature. Even
m later days, much of this knowledge has remained among' those
gifted with a peculiar sensitiveness in these matters,
and in the works of Goethe you will sometimes come across the
phrase: “In Nature everything lives through giving
and taking.” Goethe did not fully understand the phrase,
but he adopted it from ancient customs and traditions and he
felt that it pointed to something in Nature which was true.
Those who came after him understood nothing of this, and so did
not understand what he meant when he spoke of taking and
giving. Goethe also speaks of taking and giving in
connection with breathing, in so far as breathing
inter-acts with metabolism. He uses the words “taking and
giving” in a fashion, semi-clear.
To
sum up, I have shown you that in a certain sense the woods,
orchards and shrubberies on the earth act as regulators in
producing the right kind of plant-growth, and that under the
soil grubs and other worm-like creatures act similarly in
conjunction with lime. This is how we should envisage the
relationship between the cultivation of fields, of fruit and of
cattle, and then proceed to put our knowledge into practice. We
shall endeavour to do this in the last hour that remains at our
disposal, so that our Experimental Circle may work out these
things more fully in the future.
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