Introductory Words to a Eurythmy Performance
DORNACH, APRIL 15, 1923
Once again we would like to try to give you an
impression of eurythmy. It is an artistic movement that draws
on previously unfamiliar sources and makes use of a new
language of forms. Therefore it may be appropriate to say a few
words first. I do not intend to explain the performance, which
would be inartistic. Every art must speak for itself, and, one
should especially not attempt detailed explanations of an art
form created to be seen. It should simply be watched.
You
will see human figures performing gesture-like movements on
stage, primarily with their arms and hands — the most
expressive of our limbs — but also with other members of
the human organism. You will see individual figures as well as
groups of eurythmists, the groups spread in certain spatial
relationships and performing various forms and patterns as they
move around. None of all these movements and gestures, however,
should be viewed as arbitrary or fortuitous, because they are
intended to communicate a definite, visible language, or
visible music.
[See Rudolf Steiner,
An Introduction to Eurythmy,
Anthroposophic Press, Hudson, NY, 1984; and
Eurythmy as Visible Speech,
Rudolf Steiner Press, London, 1984.]
This is why eurythmy is accompanied either by
recitation and declamation — as in the case of poetry
— or by various kinds of music.
During the course of life, a human being progresses from the
first babbling sounds of a baby, which express only feelings
and sensations in primitive form, to articulated speech later
on. Similarly, it is also possible to progress from the
primitive and natural gestures (“babbling
gestures,” I would call them) of ordinary life, which
lend clarity, emphasis, or feeling to the spoken word, toward a
visible form of speech, created by movements of the entire
human organism.
Therefore, what you are about to see on stage is not based on
artificially contrived movements, but on exact and careful
study (according to Goethe's method of what he called
“sensible-supersensible seeing”) of how the spoken
word and human song come to be; because, in this case also, one
is involved with a kind of gesturing. This form of gesturing,
however, does not occur within the ordinary visible human
organism, but within the outflowing breath. Naturally, the
breath is always directed, partly by human will forces aided by
the relevant physical organs, and partly by human thought.
We
know that, in speaking, air is moved. If we made a detailed
study of the forms of these air movements through which human
beings communicate with each another, we would find that a
definite flow-form of out-streaming air corresponds to each
sound, to each word figuration and to the configuration of each
sentence.
Air-forms that flow out more radially from a speaking person
arise from the region of the human will, though always through
the agency of physical organs, of course, as already mentioned.
Sounds that shape these air-gestures into waves of a more
“cross-sectional” type — if I may use such a
term — stem from human thinking. If we could see these
moving-air gestures, just as we can see the human being in
motion (and this is possible through sensible-supersensible
seeing) we would be presented with a kind of air-image of the
human being, or at least of part of the human being. And within
this image we would see movement, the movement of flowing
air.
These air movements are being studied carefully. But instead of
letting the larynx and the other speech organs transform the
air-gestures into speech or song, they are turned into gestures
performed by the arms, the hands, or the entire human figure,
and also by groups of eurythmists moving in specific patterns.
Through this arrangement, what happens in ordinary speech or
song has now been made visible, and the only difference is that
the thought element has been left out of these movements. The
thought element always tends to be inartistic and prosaic.
Poets have to struggle against the thought element to express
themselves artistically through the medium of language. They
have to extract from the thought sphere what language offers
them. In a certain sense they try to loosen thoughts from
language, retaining only its will element, which they then use
to express their soul experiences.
This is why we do not express the more undulating forms of air
gestures, which emanate from the thoughts, but rather those
that stream radially outward in sound, word, or sentence
formation. In performing the appropriate eurythmy movements
that accompany the spoken word, a unique opportunity is
presented for outwardly expressing, clearly and visibly, what
poets have experienced within the soul.
The
belief that human souls and spirits are linked to any
particular part of the physical body is certainly a kind of
prejudice, because in reality the human soul permeates
completely the entire organism, even the outermost periphery.
It lives in everything expressed outwardly, in every physical
manifestation.
Poets experience the meaning of a poem with their entire being,
but, strictly speaking, they have to restrain what wants to
flow into their limbs. Admittedly, there are only a few poets
who really go through this experience. I think one could safely
say that of everything being produced in the art of poetry,
some ninety-nine percent could just as well be ignored without
causing too great a loss in the field of art. But any deeply
experienced poetry is encountered by the whole human being, and
then soul and spirit are pouring into the individual's entire
being. What a poet tries to accomplish through imagination,
through the formative, pictorial qualities of sound formation,
or through the element of rhythm and beat, as well as through
the musical and thematic treatment of sound production, is all
achieved basically by allowing the prose meaning of the words
to recede, while giving voice to what is truly poetic and
artistic. Consequently, for the art of speech to do justice to
a poet's work, it must not place the primary emphasis on prose
meaning — something that has become much too popular in
our inartistic time — but it should concentrate on how
the spoken word is formed.
This has been strived for in the art of speech being cultivated
here, to which Mrs. Dr. Steiner has devoted herself for a
considerable while. If the meaning of the spoken word is
stressed in speech, the result will be essentially prose.
Although this may seem interesting and intriguing, because it
is believed that the personality of the speaker will then be in
the limelight, it nevertheless remains inartistic. The artistic
approach is in the speaker's ability to bring out various
qualities, such as passionate feelings, emotions, and, in the
case of thoughts, communication of the ideas themselves,
through the pictorial element and plasticity of the sounds as
they follow one another; and this is also done through the way
diverse sound-nuances mutually affect each other. This cannot
be achieved by concentrating on meaning alone. For a thought to
be expressed poetically, the form of the thought has to
be toned down. The poetic quality of language has to be looked
for solely in the way speech is formed.
Apart from the image-creating quality and the plasticity of
speech, the essence of recitation is found equally in its
musical, beat-directed, and rhythmical aspects. In prose,
verses are obviously out of place, but in poetry they are very
much necessary, because they offer a kind of meeting ground
that, with its rhythmical and musical qualities, is
fundamentally important in speech.
In
the work of a genuine poet, therefore, a hidden eurythmy is
already present in the way language is treated. Thus, there is
nothing artificial in eurythmy — indeed, it is entirely
natural — and it manifests outwardly what the true poet
has subdued, at least to a certain extent. With their entire
being poets want to give to the world what they bring down into
earthly incarnation. But, being restricted to the medium and
use of language, they must artificially restrain certain
aspects of what they want to express with a full human quality.
This is all released again when transformed into visual
expression through the medium of eurythmy. Hearing the
speaker's recitation while, at the same time, seeing the
soul-spiritual counterpart (which ordinarily flows into the
spoken word) in the movements of the performing eurythmists, a
direct picture of the full poetic experience is received.
Eurythmy really wants to make this inherent poetic experience
visible through movement “painted in space.”
If
you want to allow eurythmy to work on the soul properly, you
must not confuse it with the neighboring arts of mime and
dancing; eurythmy is neither one. However, nothing derogatory
must be read into my words, because the importance of those two
arts is not meant to be minimized or disputed in any way.
Nevertheless, eurythmy has its own and distinctly different
aspirations. And if some of its gestures appear close to mime,
it can only be the result of what I would like to call a
“mood of mockery” or scorn inherent in the poetry,
or because of an attempt to rise above a given situation. One
could compare it to someone making a wry mouth or winking an
eye while speaking. Any quasi-mimic eurythmy gestures need to
be regarded in this light, and if eurythmists choose to make
them, they are justified in doing so. However, I am not
referring to the actual art of mime, but only to the odd
occasion when eurythmy may slide into a style akin to mime,
which, strictly speaking, is unwarranted, because eurythmy then
loses its innocence.
Likewise, what I am going to say does not refer to dancing as
an art in and of itself, but only to an improper aberration of
eurythmy into dancing. It is certainly possible for eurythmy
movements to pass over into dancelike movements — for
example, if a poem speaks of a person hitting or attacking
another, or displaying otherwise passionate conduct. In such
instances, eurythmy movements, which are usually entirely
contained within the realm of the physical body, can turn into
dancelike movements. However, if eurythmy unjustifiably
degenerates into dancing, if dancing invades the realm of
eurythmy for its own sake, it has a brutalizing effect. Again,
I am not saying that the art of dancing is brutal, but that, if
eurythmy slides into a form of dancing, it is being brutalized.
A genuine appreciation of eurythmy certainly entitles one to
state very clearly: Eurythmy is neither a form of mime, which
is communicated through suggestive movements, nor is it a form
of dance with extravagant and passionate movements, no longer
contained within the dancers' sphere of consciousness.
Eurythmy occupies an intermediate position. It neither indulges
in ardent or exuberant dance movements, nor does it use
pantomimic gestures, which always lean toward becoming
intellectual. In eurythmy, expressive and meaningful gestures
are performed, which are meant, in their own way, to have an
esthetic and artistic effect. These gestures are neither
intellectually thought out, nor are they excessive by nature.
They are neither to be explained away, nor should they be
overpowering to the eurythmist or the onlooker. Through the
immediacy of its line and through the entire mode of movement,
eurythmy should appear both pleasing and beautiful in the eye
of the beholder.
Seeing song or music expressed in movement will also convey a
proper impression of what eurythmy is. Soon you will hear
pieces of music performed in eurythmy. This tone eurythmy is
not dancing either. If done properly, it differs essentially
from any kind of dancing. It is singing, not with voices, but
with physical movements. It is precisely this singing
transformed into visible movement that enables one to
differentiate eurythmy from its neighboring arts. Seeing it on
stage will help you to gain a true idea of what I have been
talking about.
Eurythmy is only at the beginning of its development, and it
will need a long time to reach some stage of perfection. This
is why, before each performance, I have to ask the audience to
be tolerant. During its earlier stages only one side of
eurythmy was developed. But, for example, we have added stage
lighting to enhance the visual effects of the performing
eurythmists. These changing colored lights on the stage are
intended to work as a kind of “light eurythmy,” to
serve and accompany the movements of the eurythmists, so that
the entire stage picture actually becomes one eurythmic
expression. However, there is no doubt that stage presentation
of eurythmy will be improved in many ways during the coming
years.
One
can be confident of this future perfecting because eurythmy
uses the most perfect instrument available for any artistic
expression — that is, the human being, who is a
microcosm, a whole world in a small space, containing all the
secrets and inherent laws of the universe. For this reason, if
all the potentialities offered by the human organism were fully
realized, the moving eurythmist would essentially present a
true and artistic image of all cosmic secrets and laws. The art
of mime uses only one side of the human being, as do the other
arts, which also treat the human individual as an instrument,
each in its own way. One could say: Eurythmy does not depend on
an external instrument, nor on any one part of the human being,
but transforms the human entity, and especially the most
expressive members — that is, the arms and hands —
into visible speech and visible song or music.
One
may hope that when the possibilities inherent in eurythmy have
been fully developed, a time will come when this youngest of
arts will find its place, side by side with the older arts, in
its own right.
Regarding Recitation and Eurythmy:
RUDOLF STEINER: It is a pity that Mrs. Dr. Steiner,
who has developed the art of recitation here in Dornach, has been ill
these last few days, and is therefore unable to give us
examples of recitation.
[In cooperation with Rudolf Steiner,
Marie Steiner-von Sivers (1867–1948) developed the Goethean
stage arts — that is, Speech Formation and Eurythmy. See:
Rudolf Steiner and Marie Steiner-von Sivers,
Speech and Drama,
Anthroposophic and Rudolf Steiner Press, Hudson, NY, 1959.]
The point is this: eurythmy requires one to revive the
kind of recitation and declamation cultivated in times more
open to an artistic approach to speech than our present times.
Our current age is hardly sensitive to artistic refinement. For
example, people today would not readily understand why Goethe,
like a musical conductor, used a baton when rehearsing his
iambic dramas with his actors. In our time, in recitation and
declamation — which have to be strictly distinguished
from one another — the prose meaning is usually given
primary consideration. At least, since the 1890s a strong
tendency has developed to assign a more secondary place to the
artistic formation of speech, while the prose meaning of a poem
is considered to be most important. And yet, the essentials in
speech have to be seen in the imaginative formation of the
sounds, in the structure of the verses, in the musical and
thematic treatment, in rhythm, beat, and in the melodious
themes, all of which are fundamental aspects of poetry. Through
the way speech is treated, they all have to be lifted to a
higher level than possible through prose meaning alone.
The
feeling for the artistic element in speech has declined
completely in more recent times, as some of our present
cultural phenomena will confirm. For instance, I don't believe
there are many today who remember, or who have noticed, which
university chair the well-known Professor Curtius originally
occupied at the University of Berlin. He has been lecturing on
art history and other related subjects, but these were not the
subjects for which he was originally engaged. In fact, he began
his university career as “Professor of Eloquence,”
and his real task was to lecture on rhetoric. But interest in
this subject waned to the extent that it eventually appeared
unnecessary that he continue lecturing about it, and so he
quietly slipped into another university chair. Similar symptoms
can be encountered frequently today.
If
the art of speech is to be resuscitated — preferably more
in form of a narrative style, or as the kind of poetry
developed by the ancient Greeks — and to revive also the
art of declamation, which the older Germanic poetry is based
on, it is necessary to do something about speech formation.
This is the point.
I
don't know what caused this question to be raised, but what
matters is that one achieves, through the way speech is
treated, what is achieved in prose through the word
meaning.
Here the emphasis is not on the prose meaning, but on the way
different sounds follow each other, or the uses of rhymes,
alliterations, and rhythms — in other words, the element
of form in language — which must draw out what the
present emphasis on prose meaning achieves today.
Recitation is more closely allied to measure and to the
plasticity of language. Its qualities are realized through
either a lengthening or shortening of syllables, something that
can be especially significant in ballads. In declamation, on
the other hand, particular qualities are created by altering
the pitch to a higher or lower tone of voice.
[The
questioner had noticed that in the word greeting, the first and
second syllable had been pronounced with equal stress.]
This is not a question of art, but merely a matter of
interpretation. It depends entirely on whether the speaker
places the main value on the first syllable or on both
syllables equally; in other words, “Tell her I send
greet-ings,” or, “Tell her I send
greet-ings.”
Question: Doesn't this shift the weight of the
rhyme?
RUDOLF STEINER: This could happen only if
one neglected to adapt the other syllables accordingly. It is all
a question of mood rather than of how speech is treated.
Question: Isn't there an inherent law expressed in a
person's interpretation?
RUDOLF STEINER: No; one's interpretation
must remain free. It
is completely possible to render artistically the same poem in
the style of either declamation or recitation. There is room
for a great variety of views, just as a musical work can be
interpreted in very many ways. There is not just one way of
dealing with a poem. What matters is its innate essence, so
that when either reciting or declaiming, one no longer has the
feeling of doing this with the larynx but of speaking with the
air. To develop the gift of shaping air is most important in
recitation. When singing, one shapes the air. When reciting
there has to be the same tendency, but in speech the melody is
already within the sound. The essentials have to be brought out
in the way speech is treated, and not through meaning. In this
context it is helpful to consider what happened when Schiller
wrote his most important poems — that is, he had a
general melody in his soul to which he could then write the
text he was looking for.
[Johann Christoph Friedrich von
Schiller (1759–1805), German poet, playwright, and critic; he
had been a surgeon and history professor, and became a friend
of Goethe.] One has to aim at expressing the essentials, on the
one hand, through the musical element and, on the other,
through the formative and painterly qualities of language.
Question: In the art of dancing, various dancers have
different styles. This, presumably, is not the case in eurythmy
— or are its movements not always the same?
RUDOLF STEINER: You would hardly say that
if you saw very much
eurythmy! Let us say, for example, that you recited a poem, and
another person recited the same poem. Even if you treated the
poem in the same way, from an artistic point of view there
would still be two different vocal ranges, and so on. This kind
of difference already shows very strongly in eurythmy, where
you could soon perceive individual characteristics of the
various eurythmists; for these differences are there. And if
they have not yet become more prominent, it is only because
eurythmy has not been developed far enough. That will happen
when eurythmy has advanced to the point where eurythmists
really become one with their art. Then a more individual
interpretation will become more noticeable.
Certainly, in eurythmy all movements are based on fundamental
laws. You could find a parallel in speech. If I wish to say
“man,” I must not say “moon.” I must
not pronounce an oo instead of an a. The
eurythmist therefore has to make the appropriate eurythmy
gesture for a, but this underlying law in eurythmy still
permits a multiplicity of possibilities for bringing out an
individual interpretation. We are not concerned here with
pedantic or stereotypical movements. You will also see a great
difference between a beginner practicing eurythmy and someone
who has done it for years, not only in regard to movement
skills, but also in the artistry demonstrated. Likewise, an
inborn artistic gift will also be clearly perceptible, even
more than in other art forms.
Eurythmy is essentially built into the human organism. The
human organism incorporates so that — like the other
arts, such as painting — it is not absorbed rationally,
but nevertheless consciously, whereas dancing goes into the
emotional sphere. Other difficulties may arise there. Dancing
is not really purely artistic. Eurythmy is an art already.
The course participants expressed the wish to start an
association in order to open a Waldorf School in Switzerland.
During various discussions the question was raised about the
priority to be given the rebuilding of the Goetheanum and to
starting a Swiss Waldorf School, since the realization of both
projects seemed completely unrealistic.
RUDOLF STEINER: To build the Goetheanum
again is more or less a
matter of course, not just among Swiss circles, but among the
wider circles of anthroposophists in the world. During the
years when it was standing, the Goetheanum gradually came to be
seen as something intended to represent the center of the
entire anthroposophical movement. And there will hardly be any
doubt among the majority of anthroposophists in the world that
the Goetheanum will have to be built again. Hindrances toward
this goal could come only from the Swiss authorities. There can
be no other hindrances. Unless the authorities make it
impossible for us, the Goetheanum will certainly be
rebuilt.
On
the other hand, while the Goetheanum was standing, the need was
felt to open at least a small school.
[The
Fortbildungsschule was opened in 1921 for the children
of co-workers in the Goetheanum. However, since private schools
for young pupils were not permitted in the Swiss Canton of
Solothurn, this edict being nullified only in 1976, it had to
be closed down again. The school was reopened later for pupils
fourteen and older.] For whatever springs from the impulses of
anthroposophy must, by its very nature, find practical
application in life. As you already know, many other practical
activities are the outcome of anthroposophical work — for
example, in the field of medicine. I want to mention this only
for the sake of clarification.
Regarding the possibility of anthroposophical medicine, I also
had to stipulate that, if the thought should ever arise of
working in medicine on the basis of anthroposophical research,
it would be essential for those wishing to dedicate themselves
to such a task to be in constant touch with those who are ill
through their personal care. This is why our hospitals were
opened here in Arlesheim and in Stuttgart. This is only one
example to show that, if any impulses in one or another
direction are to grow out of anthroposophy, these and other
institutions are certain to spring up from sheer necessity. And
so, in building this small school, which is closely affiliated
with the Goetheanum, and which we shall endeavor to keep going,
we have done the only possible thing; we started it because a
number of parents, who were convinced of the rightness of
Waldorf education, wanted to send us their children. These
children were taken away from us again only through the
interference of the local authorities. Due to Swiss legislation
we were unable to do, even on a smaller scale, what had been
possible in Stuttgart, where, due to less restrictive local
educational laws, we could open the Waldorf School.
In
this regard, world progress has shown some very strange
features. Please do not think I am trying to promote
conservative or reactionary tendencies by what I am going to
say, but it is true that, inasmuch as education is concerned,
there was greater freedom during the times when liberalism was
nonexistent — not to mention democracy. Lack of freedom
has crept in only during the times of liberalism and democracy.
I do not even maintain that a lack of freedom and liberalism,
or a lack of freedom and democracy, definitely belong together,
but that during the course of history they have shown
themselves to be closely connected. And the least free of all
educational systems (shall I say “in the civilized
world?”) is in that part of Europe looked upon by so many
West-European “democrats” as a kind of paradise
— in Soviet Russia. There freedom is being exterminated
root and branch through the most extreme form of
“democracy” (as it is called), and an educational
system has been set up that presents a caricature of human
freedom and activity.
To
return to our question: I want to strongly emphasize that
rebuilding the Goetheanum is a necessity and that it could be
prevented only by outer circumstances. In any case, it should
be strived for. As a matter of course, this goal will be
resolutely pursued by all those who are serious about
anthroposophy. As soon as official matters have been finalized,
we shall certainly make every effort in that direction. One can
take only one step at a time, if one does not want to proceed
in a theoretical way.
It
is possible, of course, to make all kinds of decisions, and to
think up all kinds of plans, but if one stands firmly on the
ground of reality, this can be done only if and when there is a
strong enough basis to warrant it.
Naturally, the ideal solution would be to complement naturally
what can begin toward a general spiritual and social life
through building a new Goetheanum, by also building a Waldorf
School. But to move forward in this way, one would first have
to overcome the obstacles put in the way by inhibiting
interests in this country. For my part, I feel convinced that,
if only enough people can be found — and here I am not
thinking in terms of majorities — who recognize that such
a school is necessary, it will eventually be opened. There is
no question that ways and means will be found for it to come
into being. Concerning the building of the Goetheanum, matters
are not so simple. To bring that about out of the will-forces
of Switzerland — if I may put it this way — is not
so easy. This would have to be a matter of international effort
and cooperation.
Primary schools, on the other hand, arise from the various folk
cultures, and in such cases, neither our Waldorf teachers nor
I, nor anyone else, has any say in the matter except our dear
Swiss friends and visitors. And because of this we feel a great
need to hear more about their feelings and attitudes about this
point.
[This remark led to an exchange of views. As early as
January 1923, in response to Rudolf Steiner's advice, the
“Swiss Association for Freedom in Education” was
founded in order to open a Waldorf school in Basel. Rudolf
Steiner actively participated in the preparations for the
formation of this association and became a leading member of
it. He also worked toward opening the school. Together with
Albert Steffen, he called on the Director of Education in Basel
to clarify various practical points, and he found Privy
Councilor Hauser helpful and cooperative. The Basel Waldorf
school was finally opened in 1926, about a year after Rudolf
Steiner's death. The second Goetheanum, built after Steiner's
model, was begun in 1924 and completed in 1928.]
After further contributions from various conference members,
Rudolf Steiner was asked to speak some final words.
RUDOLF STEINER: It is our chairman's
opinion that I should say
a few words in conclusion. In response, I express my deep inner
satisfaction about the best of will and the best of intentions
that our honored visitors, gathered here, have shown during
this conference. And I must say that every time we come
together like this is a joyful event, because it causes those
who participate to realize that what is being cultivated here
in Dornach is very different from the current
misrepresentations among so many people. If there are enough
people who, through their own experience, come to realize how
many falsehoods are being spread about what is really happening
in Dornach, then the time will come when the intentions here
— however feeble our beginnings may be — will reach
the world more freely.
Of
course, not everyone is in a position to perceive clearly the
strange distortions of what is happening here in Dornach. There
are moments when one cannot help feeling amazed at the lack of
morality shown by the public, and at the general indifference
toward flagrant distortions and falsifications, which really
belong to the realm of immorality. One can only wonder how it
is possible that such perversions of truth are taken in with
particular apathy. Matters have gone so far that if this
subject is touched on, one is almost met with incredulity.
Just yesterday the name of a person who commands a large
audience here in Switzerland was mentioned. If now one feels it
necessary to state that this person criticized my book
Towards Social Renewal
even before it was published
— that is, before he could possibly have read a single
word contained in it — the untruth of such criticism
spread by a considerably famous person will hardly raise an
eyebrow.
[Rudolf Steiner,
Towards Social Renewal,
Rudolf Steiner Press, 1977.] This is how great and widespread
the general apathy is today concerning ethical matters. Through
such apathy, these negative influences gather momentum. They
increase tremendously.
About two years ago, a certain matter was spoken of repeatedly
— that a theologian had written a booklet in Switzerland,
in which the bizarre words were printed that, here in Dornach,
a wooden sculpture was to be erected, which could already be
seen in the studio, and which bore luciferic features in the
upper part and animal-like features below.
[The then-unfinished statue of
The Representative of Humankind,
as Rudolf Steiner called it, was still in the studio when the
Goetheanum burned down. Today it can be seen in the “Group
Room” in the second Goetheanum.] The fact is that the
main figure of this sculpture shows the features of Christ in
ideal form, while the lower part of the carving is still
incomplete. When he was called on it, the author of the booklet
simply declared that he had copied the offending words from
somebody else's writings; and this despite the fact that the
author of the pamphlet was a well-known person in Switzerland!
This incident has been brought to the notice of our circle here
several times, and not without a decisive edge. But, due to the
general indifference concerning moral matters, our words have
fallen on deaf ears, instead of being passed to widest circles
as an example of how strong the inclinations are — even
in famous people — to distort anthroposophy and
everything belonging to it by spreading untruths and gross
inaccuracies.
Well, one could continue in this vein, but I am afraid that if
I were to tell you even a small part of the untruths, real
untruths being spread about anthroposophy, we could not go home
before sunrise and, naturally, we have no desire for that.
Nevertheless, the situation is such that it must again be
pointed out how everything is becoming so difficult for us
because of the falsehoods about Dornach and all that belongs to
it, untruths being disseminated in most underhanded ways, and
also because of the general indifference toward these
perversions of the truth. I am not begging you to come to the
defense of Dornach — certainly not. And yet, there is
something of real significance in all this.
Many people hold the view that there must be complete freedom
to express one's opinion. Certainly, everybody is entitled to a
personal opinion, and no one can support this point of view
more strongly than I do. It is a matter of course that everyone
must be free to have an individual opinion and also to express
it. But no one should spread lies in the world without hearing
an appropriate and authoritative answer. It is the spreading of
lies that causes the greatest disturbances in the world. To
make people see this is one of the most difficult things we
have to contend with here in Dornach. We have very many good
friends, but the enthusiasm for defending the truth by
rectifying false accounts of what emanates from Dornach has not
yet become very strong. Our difficulties are more connected
with these things than one might think.
For
example, not long ago I was faced with a large number of lies,
of untrue judgments, personally aimed at me. Since, in this
particular case, it was very important for me to rectify
judgments that people might form on the basis of these lies, I
asked, “What would happen if, in order to disprove all
these untruths, I were to submit within a short time
documentary evidence, clearly set out and concisely written for
quick and easy reading?” The answer was: “It would
not alter the situation in any way.” Here you have some
indication of the difficulties that could be said to be at the
root of our troubles. Rectifying the many falsehoods about
Dornach, scattered far and wide, would certainly be a most
desirable thing. The collection of funds for the creation of a
Swiss School Association would not be so difficult if there
were less distrust everywhere.
But
I believe this lack of trust will persist as long as one is not
in the position of placing the actual facts side by side with
lies, and as long as one cannot count on a enough people who
are not only capable of discriminating between truth and
untruth, but who are also willing to stand up for the
truth.
Things have come to such a state that, very recently, I had to
say to a number of people: “To prove the truth about our
anthroposophical cause would bring us the greatest of harm
because we would be much less unpopular if the lies about us
were correct. In that case people could vilify us without any
qualms. But those who stand behind these lies about Dornach and
anthroposophy know very well that they are scattering lies.
Thus, to prove them wrong would cause them the greatest of
discomfort. This is also how things are where personal matters
are concerned. I am not exposing this situation to you merely
to talk about it once again, but rather to look at it as the
shadow cast by light. In order to give light its proper
brightness, there has to be some shadow, and the brighter the
light, the darker the accompanying shadow.
I
put these things before you as the counterpart of the positive
side. But just because they are there, you may believe me that
it gives me all the more joy to have witnessed how so many
among you have spoken tonight about your deeply-felt desire to
do something for the cause represented here. In expressing my
heartfelt satisfaction to you, I also wish to put the light
next to the shadow, which — as already said — was
placed before you only to let the light shine more brightly.
Because so many of our honored visitors, dear to us, have
spoken with voices of such deep concern about our
anthroposophical cause, this light has been shining especially
brightly.
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