II
Through
spiritual scientific investigation, we see how the world and all
nature surrounding us becomes intelligible. It also becomes
increasingly clear to us how the outer facts of our surroundings can
have a more-or-less profound significance for the inner being of man.
Today we will develop further the theme of why music affects the
human soul in such a definite, unique way. In doing this, we will
cast light on the very foundations of the soul.
To
begin with we must ask how a remarkable hereditary line such as we
see in the Bach family, for example, can be explained. Within a
period of 250 years, nearly thirty members of this family exhibited
marked musical talent. Another case is the Bernoulli family, in which
a mathematical gift was inherited in a similar way through several
generations, and eight of the family members were mathematicians of
some renown. Here are two phenomena that can be understood by
heredity, yet they are totally different situations.
To
those who have sought to penetrate deeply into the nature of things,
music appears to be something quite special. Music has always
occupied a special place among the arts. Consider this from
Schopenhauer's viewpoint. In his book, The World as Will and
Idea, he speaks of art as a kind of knowledge that leads more
directly to the divine than is possible for intellectual knowledge.
This opinion of Schopenhauer's is connected with his world
view, which held that everything surrounding us is only a reflection
of the human mental image or idea. This reflection arises only
because outer things call forth mental images in the human senses,
enabling man to relate to the things themselves. Man can know nothing
of that which is unable to make an impression on the senses.
Schopenhauer speaks physiologically of specific sense impressions.
The eye can receive only light impressions; it can sense only
something that is light. Likewise, the ear can sense only tone
impressions, and so on. According to Schopenhauer's view,
everything observed by man as the world around him reflects itself
like a Fata Morgana within him; it is a kind of reflection called
forth by the human soul itself.
According
to Schopenhauer, there is one possibility of bypassing the mental
image. There is one thing perceptible to man for which no outer
impression is needed, and this is man himself. All outer things are
an eternally changing, eternally shifting Fata Morgana for man. We
experience only one thing within ourselves in an immutable manner:
ourselves. We experience ourselves in our will, and no detour from
outside is required to perceive its effects on us. When we exercise
any influence on the outer world, we experience will, we ourselves
are this will, and we therefore know what the will is. We know it
from our own inner experience, and by analogy we can conclude that
this will working within us must exist and be active outside us as
well. There must exist forces outside us that are the same as the
force active within us, as will. These forces Schopenhauer calls “the
world will.”
Now
let us pose the question of how art originates. In line with
Schopenhauer's reasoning, the answer would be that art
originates through a combination of the Fata Morgana outside us and
that within us, through a uniting of both. When an artist, a
sculptor, for example, wishes to create an ideal figure, say of Zeus,
and he searches for an archetype, he does not focus on a single human
being in order to find the archetype in him; instead, he looks around
among many men. He gathers a little from one man, a little from
another, and so on. He takes note of everything that represents
strength and is noble and outstanding, and from this he forms an
archetypal picture of Zeus that corresponds to the thought of Zeus he
carries. This is the idea in man, which can be acquired only if the
particulars the world offers us are combined within man's mind.
Let
us place Schopenhauer's thought alongside one of Goethe's,
which finds expression in the words, “In nature, it is the
intentions that are significant.” We find Schopenhauer and
Goethe in complete agreement with one another. Both thinkers believe
that there are intentions in nature that she can neither bring
completely to expression nor attain in her creations, at least not
with the details. The creative artist tries to recognize these
intentions in nature; he tries to combine them and represent them in
a picture. One now comprehends Goethe, who says that art is a
revelation of nature's secret intentions and that the creative
artist reveals the continuation of nature. The artist takes nature
into himself; he causes it to arise in him again and then lets it go
forth from him. It is as if nature were not complete and in man found
the possibility of guiding her work to an end. In man, nature finds
her completion, her fulfillment, and she rejoices, as it were, in man
and his works.
In
the human heart lies the capability of thinking things through to the
end and of pouring forth what has been the intention of nature.
Goethe sees nature as the great, creative artist that cannot
completely attain her intentions, presenting us with something of a
riddle. The artist, however, solves these riddles; he thinks the
intentions of nature through to the end and expresses them in his
works.
Schopenhauer
says that this holds true of all the arts except music. Music stands
on a higher level than all the other arts. Why? Schopenhauer finds
the answer, saying that in all the other creative arts, such as
sculpture and painting, the mental images must be combined before the
hidden intentions of nature are discovered. Music, on the other hand,
the melodies and harmonies of tones, is nature's direct
expression. The musician hears the pulse of the divine will that
flows through the world; he hears how this will expresses itself in
tones. The musician thus stands closer to the heart of the world than
all other artists; in him lives the faculty of representing the world
will. Music is the expression of the will of nature, while all the
other arts are expressions of the idea of nature. Since music flows
nearer the heart of the world and is a direct expression of its
surging and swelling, it also directly affects the human soul. It
streams into the soul like the divine in its different forms. Hence,
it is understandable that the effects of music on the human soul are
so direct, so powerful, so elemental.
Let
us turn from the standpoint of significant individuals such as
Schopenhauer and Goethe concerning the sublime art of music to the
standpoint of spiritual science, allowing it to cast its light on
this question. If we do this, we find that what man is makes
comprehensible why harmonies and melodies affect him. Again, we
return to the three states of consciousness that are possible for the
human being and to his relationship to the three worlds to which he
belongs during any one of these three states of consciousness.
Of
these three states of consciousness, there is only one fully known to
the ordinary human being, since he is unaware of himself while in
either of the other two. From them, he brings no conscious
recollection or impression back into his familiar state of
consciousness, that is, the one we characterized as waking
day-consciousness. The second state of consciousness is familiar to
an extent to the ordinary human being. It is dream-filled sleep,
which presents simple daily experiences to man in symbols. The third
state of consciousness is dreamless sleep, a state of a certain
emptiness for the ordinary human being.
Initiation,
however, transforms the three states of consciousness. First, man's
dream-life changes. It is no longer chaotic, no longer a reproduction
of daily experiences often rendered in tangled symbols. Instead, a
new world unfolds before man in dream-filled sleep. A world filled
with flowing colors and radiant light-beings surrounds him, the
astral world. This is no newly created world. It is new only for a
person who, until now, had not advanced beyond the lower state of
day-consciousness. Actually, this astral world is always present and
continuously surrounds the human being. It is a real world, as real
as the world surrounding us that appears to us as reality. Once a
person has been initiated, has undergone initiation, he becomes
acquainted with this wonderful world. He learns to be conscious in it
with a consciousness as clear — no even clearer — than
his ordinary day-consciousness. He also becomes familiar with his own
astral body and learns to live in it consciously. The basic
experience in this new world that unfolds before man is one of living
and weaving in a world of colors and light. After his initiation, man
begins to awaken during his ordinary dream-filled sleep; it is as
though he feels himself borne upward on a surging sea of flowing
light and colors. This glimmering light and these flowing colors are
living beings. This experience of conscious dream-filled sleep then
transmits itself into man's entire life in waking
day-consciousness, and he learns to see these beings in everyday life
as well.
Man
attains the third state of consciousness when he is capable of
transforming dreamless sleep into a conscious state. This world that
man learns to enter shows itself to him at first only partially, but
in due time more and more is revealed. Man lives in this world for
increasingly longer periods. He is conscious in it and experiences
something very significant there.
Man
can arrive at perception of the second world, the astral world, only
if he undergoes the discipline of so-called “great stillness.”
He must become still, utterly still, within himself. The great peace
must precede the awakening in the astral world. This deep stillness
becomes more and more pronounced when man approaches the third state
of consciousness, the state in which he begins to have sensations in
dreamless sleep. The colors of the astral world become increasingly
transparent, and the light becomes ever clearer and at the same time
spiritualized. Man has the sensation that he himself lives in this
color and this light, and if they do not surround him but rather he
himself is color and light. He feels himself astrally within this
astral world, and he feels afloat in a great, deep peace. Gradually,
this deep stillness begins to resound spiritually, softly at first,
then louder and louder. The world of colors and light is permeated
with resounding tones. In this third state of consciousness that man
now approaches, the colorful world of the astral realm in which he
dwelt up to now becomes suffused with sound. This new dimension that
opens to man is Devachan, the so-called mental world, and he enters
this wondrous world through the portals of the “great
stillness.” Through the great stillness, the tone of this other
world rings out to him. This is how the Devachanic world truly
appears.
Many
theosophical books contain other descriptions of Devachan, but they
are not based on personal experiences of the reality of the world.
Leadbeater, for example, gives an accurate description of the astral
plane and of experiences there, but his description of Devachan is
inaccurate. It is merely a construction modeled on the astral plane
and is not experienced personally by him. All descriptions that do
not describe how a tone rings out from the other side are incorrect
and are not based on actual perception. Resounding tone is the
particular characteristic of Devachan, at least essentially. Of
course, one must not imagine that the Devachanic world does not
radiate colors as well. It is penetrated by light emanating from the
astral world, for the two worlds are not separated: the astral world
penetrates the Devachanic world. The essence of the Devachanic realm,
however, lies in tone. That which was light in the great stillness
now begins to resound.
On
a still higher plane of Devachan, tone becomes something akin to
words. All true inspiration originates on this plane, and in this
region dwell inspired authors. Here they experience a real permeation
with the truths of the higher worlds. This phenomenon is entirely
possible.
We
must bear in mind that not only the initiate lives in these worlds.
The only difference between the ordinary human being and the initiate
is that an initiate undergoes these various altered conditions
consciously. The states that ordinary man undergoes unconsciously
again and again merely change into conscious ones for him. The
ordinary human being passes through these three worlds time after
time, but he knows nothing about it, because he is conscious neither
of himself nor of his experiences there. Nevertheless, he returns
with some of the effects that these experiences called forth in him.
When he awakens in the morning, not only is he physically rejuvenated
by the sleep, but he also brings back art from those worlds. When a
painter, for example, goes far beyond the reality of colors in the
physical world in his choice of the tones and color harmonies that he
paints on his canvas, it is none other than a recollection, albeit an
unconscious one, of experiences in the astral world. Where has he
seen these tones, these shining colors? Where has he experienced
them? They are the after-effects of the astral experiences he has had
during the night. Only this flowing ocean of light and colors, of
beauty and radiating, glimmering depths, where he has dwelt during
sleep, gives him the possibility of using these colors among which he
existed. With the dense, earthy colors of our physical world,
however, he is unable to reproduce anything close to the ideal that
he has experienced and that lives in him. We thus see in painting a
shadow-image, a precipitation of the astral world in the physical
world, and we see how the effects of the astral realm bear
magnificent, marvelous fruits in man.
In
great art there are wonderful things that are much more
comprehensible to a spiritual scientist, because he discerns their
origin. I am thinking, for instance, of two paintings by Leonardo da
Vinci that hang in the Louvre in Paris. One portrays Bacchus, the
other St. John. Both paintings show the same face; evidently the same
model was employed for both. It is not their outward narrative
effect, therefore, that makes them totally different from each other.
The artistic mysteries of light contained in the paintings are based
more purely on their effects of color and light. The painting of
Bacchus displays an unusual glistening reddish light that is poured
over the body's surface. It speaks of voluptuousness concealed
beneath the skin and thus characterizes Bacchus's nature. It is
as if the body were imbibing the light and, permeated with its own
voluptuous nature, exuded it again. The painting of John, on the
other hand, displays a chaste, yellowish hue. It seems as if the
color is only playing about the body. The body allows the light only
to surround its forms; it does not wish to absorb anything from
outside into itself. An utterly unselfish corporeality, fully pure
and chaste, addresses the viewer from this painting.
A
spiritual scientist understands all this. One must not believe,
however, that an artist is always intellectually aware of what is
concealed in his work. The precipitations of his astral vision need
not penetrate as far as physical consciousness in order to live in
his works. Leonardo da Vinci perhaps did not know the occult laws by
which he created his paintings — that is not what matters —
but he followed them out of his instinctive feeling. We thus see in
painting the shadow, the precipitation, of the astral world in our
physical realm.
The
composer conjures a still higher world; he conjures the Devachanic
world into the physical world. The melodies and harmonies that speak
to us from the compositions of our great masters are actually
faithful copies of the Devachanic world. If we are at all capable of
experiencing a foretaste of the spiritual world, this would be found
in the melodies and harmonies of music and the effects it has on the
human soul.
We
return once again to the nature of the human being. We find first of
all the physical world, then the etheric body, then the astral body,
and finally the “I” of which man first became conscious
at the end of the Atlantean age. [A note in the
German edition states that a brief description followed here
concerning the various members of the human organization but that the
transcript was too poor to be reproduced. They were similar to those
given in Steiner's
Theosophy
in the chapter
“The Being of Man.”
In particular, the separation of the astral body
into sentient body and sentient soul was emphasized.]
When
man sleeps, the astral body and the sentient soul release themselves
from the lower nature of man. Physical man lies in bed connected with
his etheric body. All his other members loosen and dwell in the
astral and Devachanic worlds. In these worlds, specifically in the
Devachanic world, the soul absorbs into itself the world of tones.
When he awakens each morning, man actually has passed through an
element of music, an ocean of tones. A musical person is one whose
physical nature is such that it follows these impressions, though he
need not know this. A sense of musical pleasure is based on nothing
other than the right accord between the harmonies brought from beyond
and the tones and melodies here. We experience musical pleasure when
outer tones correspond with those within.
Regarding
the musical element, the cooperation of sentient soul and sentient
body is of special significance. One must understand that all
consciousness arises through a kind of overcoming of the outer world.
What comes to consciousness in man as pleasure of joy signifies
victory of the spiritual over merely animated corporeality
[Körperlich-Lebendige], the victory of the sentient
soul over the sentient body. It is possible for one who returns from
sleep with the inner vibrations to intensify these tones and to
perceive the victory of the sentient soul over the sentient body, so
that the soul feels itself stronger than the body. In the effects of
a minor key the sentient soul vibrates more intensely and
predominates over the sentient body. When the minor third is played,
one feels pain in the soul, the predominance of the sentient body,
but when the major third resounds, it announces the victory of the
soul.
Now
we can grasp the basis of the profound significance of music. We
understand why music has been elevated throughout the ages to the
highest position among the arts by those who know the relationships
of the inner life, why even those who do not know these relationships
grant music a special place, and why music stirs the deepest strings
of our soul, causing them to resound.
Alternating
between sleeping and waking, man continuously passes from the
physical to the astral and from these worlds to the Devachanic world,
a reflection of his overall course of incarnations. When in death he
leaves the physical body, he rises through the astral world up into
Devachan. There he finds his true home; there he finds his place of
rest. This solemn repose is followed by his re-entry into the
physical world, and in this way man passes continuously from one
world to another.
The
human being, however, experiences the elements of the Devachanic
world as his own innermost nature, because they are his primeval
home. The vibrations flowing through the spiritual world are felt in
the innermost depths of his being. In a sense, man experiences the
astral and physical as mere sheaths. His primeval home is in
Devachan, and the echoes from this homeland, the spiritual world,
resound in him in the harmonies and melodies of the physical world.
These echoes pervade the lower world with inklings of a glorious and
wonderful existence; they churn up man's innermost being and
thrill it with vibrations of purest joy and sublime spirituality,
something that this world cannot provide. Painting speaks to the
astral corporeality, but the world of tone speaks to the innermost
being of man. As long as a person is not yet initiated, his homeland,
the Devachanic world, is given to him in music. This is why music is
held in such high esteem by all who sense such a relationship.
Schopenhauer also senses this in a kind of instinctive intuition and
expresses it in his philosophical formulations.
Through
esoteric knowledge the world, and above all the arts, become
comprehensible to us. As it is above so it is below, and as below so
above. One who understands this expression in its highest sense
learns to recognize increasingly the preciousness in the things of
this world, and gradually he experiences as precious recognition the
imprints of ever higher and higher worlds. In music, too, he
experiences the image of a higher world.
The
work of an architect, built in stone to withstand centuries, is
something that originates in man's inner being and is then
transformed into matter. The same is true of the works of sculptors
and painters. These works are present externally and have taken on
form.
Musical
creations, however, must be generated anew again and again. They flow
onward in the surge and swell of their harmonies and melodies, a
reflection of the soul, which in its incarnations must always
experience itself anew in the onward-flowing stream of time. Just as
the human soul is an evolving entity, so its reflection here on earth
is a flowing one. The deep effect of music is due to this kinship.
Just as the human soul flows downward from its home in Devachan and
flows back to it again, so do its shadows, the tones, the harmonies.
Hence the intimate effect of music on the soul. Out of music the most
primordial kinship speaks to the soul; in the most inwardly deep
sense, sounds of home rebound from it. From the soul's primeval
home, the spiritual world, the sounds of music are borne across to us
and speak comfortingly and encouragingly to us in surging melodies
and harmonies.
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