LECTURE TEN
Dornach,
19 February 1922
We have once
more pointed out in these lectures that in the most recent cultural
period of human evolution, the fifth post-Atlantean period, the main
force governing human soul life is the force of the intellect, the
force of ideas living in thoughts. To this we had to add the
statement that the force of thoughts is actually the corpse of our
life of spirit and soul as it was before birth. More and more
strongly in recent times this force of thought has emancipated itself
from the other forces of the human being, and this was clearly felt
by those spirits who wanted to attain a full understanding of the
Christian impulse.
Yesterday
I endeavoured to describe this, using the example of Calderón's
Cyprianus. That drama depicts, on the one hand, the struggles which
arise out of the old ideas of a nature filled with soul and, on the
other, the strong sense of helplessness encountered by the human
being who distances himself from this old view and is forced to seek
shelter in mere thoughts. We saw how Cyprianus had to seek the
assistance of Satan in order to win Justina — whose
significance I endeavoured to explain. But in consequence of the new
soul principle, which is now dominant, all he could receive from
Satan was a phantom of Justina.
All these
things show forcefully how human beings, striving for the spirit,
felt in this new age, how they felt the deadness of mere thought life
and how, at the same time, they felt that it would be impossible to
enter with these mere thoughts into the living realm of the Christ
concept. I then went on yesterday to show that the phase depicted in
Calderon's Cyprianus drama is followed by another, which we find in
Goethe's
Faust.
Goethe is a personality who stands fully in
the cultural life of the eighteenth century, which was actually far
more international than were later times, and which also had a really
strong feeling for the intellectual realm, the realm of thoughts. We
can certainly say that in his young days Goethe explored all the
different sciences much as did the Faust he depicts in his drama. For
in what the intellectual realm had to offer, Goethe did not seek what
most people habitually seek; he was searching for a genuine
connection with the world to which the eternal nature of man belongs.
We can certainly say that Goethe sought true knowledge. But he could
not find it through the various sciences at his disposal. Perhaps
Goethe approached the figure of Faust in an external way to start
with. But because of his own special inclinations he sensed in this
Faust figure the struggling human being about whom we spoke
yesterday. And in a certain sense he identified with this struggling
human being.
Goethe
worked on
Faust
in three stages. The first stage leads us back
to his early youth when he felt utterly dissatisfied with his
university studies and longed to escape from it all and find a true
union of soul with the whole of cultural life. Faust was depicted as
the struggling human being, the human being striving to escape from
mere intellect into a full comprehension of the cosmic origins of
man. So this early figure of Faust takes his place beside the other
characters simply as the striving human being. Then Goethe underwent
those stages of his development during which he submerged himself in
the art of the South which he saw as giving form on a higher plane to
the essence of nature. He increasingly sought the spirit in nature,
for he could not find it in the cultural life that at first presented
itself to him. A deep longing led him to the art of the South, which
he regarded as the last remnant of Greek art. There, in the way the
secrets of nature were depicted artistically out of the Greek world
view, he believed he would discover the spirituality of nature.
And then
everything he had experienced in Italy underwent a transformation
within his soul. We see this transformation given living expression
in the intimate form of his fairy-tale
[ Note 1 ]
about the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily, in which, out of certain
traditional concepts of beauty, wisdom, virtue and strength, he created
the temple with the four Kings.
Then, at
the end of the eighteenth century, we see how, encouraged by
Schiller, he returns to
Faust,
enriched with this world of
ideas. This second stage of his work on
Faust
is marked particularly by the appearance of the
‘Prologue in Heaven’,
that wonderful poem which begins with the words:
‘The sun makes music as of old, Amid the rival spheres of heaven.’
[ Note 2 ]
In the drama as Goethe now conceives it,
Faust no longer stands there as a solitary figure concerned solely
with himself. Now we have the cosmos with all the forces of the
universe ascending and descending, and within this cosmos the human
being whom the powers of good and evil do battle to possess. Faust
takes his place within the cosmos as a whole. Goethe has expanded the
material from a question of man alone to a question encompassing the
whole of the universe.
The third
stage begins in the twenties of the nineteenth century, when Goethe
sets about completing the drama. Once again quite new thoughts live
in his soul, very different from those with which he was concerned at
the end of the eighteenth century when he composed the
‘Prologue in Heaven’, using ancient ideas about nature,
ideas of the spirit in nature, in order to raise the question of
Faust to the level of a question of the cosmos. In the twenties,
working to bring the second part of the drama to a conclusion, Goethe
has returned once more to the human soul out of which he now wants to
draw everything, expanding the soul-being once more into a cosmic
being.
Of course
he has to make use of external representations, but we see how he
depicts dramatically the inner journeyings of the soul. Consider the
‘Classical Walpurgis-Night’ or the reappearance of the
Helena scene, which had been there earlier, though merely in the form
of an episode. And consider how, in the great final tableau, he
endeavours to bring to a concluding climax the soul's inner
experience, which is at the same time a cosmic experience when it
becomes spiritual. Finally the drama flows over into a Christian
element. But, as I said yesterday, this Christian element is not
developed out of Faust's experiences of soul but is merely tacked on
to the end. Goethe made a study of the Catholic cultus and then
tacked this Christianizing element on to the end of
Faust.
There is only an external connection between Faust's inner struggles
and the way in which the drama finally leads into this Christian
tableau of the universe. This is not intended to belittle the Faust
drama. But it has to be said that Goethe, who wrestled in the deepest
sense of the word to depict how the spiritual world should be found
in earthly life, did not, in fact, succeed in discovering a way of
depicting this finding of spirituality in earthly life. To do so, he
would have had to come to a full comprehension of the meaning of the
Mystery of Golgotha. He would have had to understand how the
Christ-being came from the expanses of the cosmos and descended into
the human being, Jesus of Nazareth, and how he united himself with
the earth, so that ever since then, when seeking the spirit which
ebbs and flows in the stormy deeds of man, one ought to find the
Christ-impulse in earthly life.
Goethe
was never able to make the link between the spirit of the earth,
ebbing and flowing in stormy deeds, in the weaving of time, and the
Christ-impulse. In a way this may be felt to be a tragedy. But it
came about of necessity, because the period of human evolution in
which Goethe stood did not yet provide the ground on which the full
significance of the Mystery of Golgotha could be comprehended.
Indeed, this Mystery of Golgotha can only be fully comprehended if
human beings learn to give new life to the dead thoughts which are a
part of them in this fifth post-Atlantean period. Today there is a
tremendous amount of prejudice, in thought, in feeling and in will,
against the re-enlivening of the world of thought. But mankind must
solve this problem. Mankind must learn to give new life to this world
of thought which enters human nature at birth and conception as the
corpse of spirit and soul; this corpse of thoughts and ideas must be
made to live again. But this can only happen when thoughts are
transformed — first into Imaginations, and then the
Imaginations transformed into Inspirations and Intuitions. What is
needed is a full understanding of the human being. Not until this
becomes a reality, will what I told you yesterday be fully
understood: That the world around us must come to be seen as a
tremendous question to which the human being himself provides the
answer. This is what was to have been given to mankind with the
Mystery of Golgotha. It will not be understood until the human being
is understood.
Let us
look at a diagram of threefold man once more: the human being of the
head or of the nerves and senses as discussed yesterday;
Earth
the human
being of the rhythmic system or of the chest; and the human being of
the metabolism and limbs.
Looking
at the human being today, we accept him as the external form in which
he appears to us. Someone dissecting a body on the dissecting table
has no special feeling that the human head, for instance, is in any
way very different from, say, a finger. A finger muscle is considered
in the same way as is a muscle in the head. But it ought to be known
that the head is, in the main, a metamorphosis of the system of limbs
and metabolism from the preceding incarnation; in other words, the
head occupies a place in evolution which is quite different from that
of the system of limbs that goes with it.
Having at
last struggled through to a view of the inner aspect of threefold
man, we shall then be in a position to come to a view of what is
linked from the cosmos with this threefold human being. As far as our
external being is concerned, we are in fact only incarnated in the
solid, earthly realm through our head organization. We should never
be approachable as a creature of the solid earth if we did not
possess our head organization, which is, however, an echo of the limb
organization of our previous incarnation. The fact that we have solid
parts also in our hands and feet is the result of what rays down from
the head. But it is our head which makes us solid. Everything solid
and earthly in us derives from our head, as far as the forces in it
are concerned.
In our
head the solid earth is in us. And whatever is solid anywhere else in
our body rays down through us from our head. The origin of our solid
bones lies in our head. But there is also in our head a transition to
the watery element. All the solid parts of our brain are embedded in
the cerebral fluid. In our head there is a constant inter-mingling
vibration of the solid parts of our brain with the cerebral fluid
which is linked to the rest of the body by way of the spinal fluid.
So, looking at the human being of nerves and senses, we can say that
here is the transition from the earthly element (blue) to the watery
element. We can say that the human being of nerves and senses lives
in the earthy-watery element. And in accordance with this, our brain
consists of an intercorrespondence between the earthy and watery
elements.
Now let
us turn to the chest organism, the rhythmic organism. This rhythmic
organism lives in the interrelationship between the watery and the
airy element (yellow). In the lungs you can see the watery element
making contact with the airy element. The rhythmic life is
anintermingling of the watery with the airy element, of water with
air. So I could say: The rhythmical human being lives in the
watery-airy element.
And the
human being of metabolism and limbs then lives in the transition from
the airy element to the warmth element, in the fiery element (red,
next diagram). It is a constant dissolving of the airy element in the
warmth, the fiery element, which then seeps through the whole human
being as his body heat. What happens in our metabolism and in our
movements is a reorganization of the airy, gaseous element up into
the warm, fiery element. As we move about, we constantly burn up
those elements of the food we have eaten which have become airy. Even
when we do not move about, the foods we eat are transformed airy
elements which we constantly burn up in the warmth element. So the
human being of limbs and metabolism lives in the airy-fiery
element.
Human
being of nerves and senses: earthy-watery element
Rhythmical human being: watery-airy element
Human
being of limbs and metabolism: airy-fiery element
From here
we go up even further into the etheric parts, into the light element,
into the etheric body of the human being. When the organism of
metabolism and limbs has transferred everything into warmth, it then
goes up into the etheric body. Here the human being joins up with the
etheric realm which fills the whole world; here he makes the link
with the cosmos.
Ideas
like this, which I have shown you only as diagrams, can be
transformed into artistic and poetic form by someone who has an inner
sense for sculpture and music. In a work of poetry such as the drama of
Faust
such things can certainly be expressed in artistic
form, in the way certain cosmic secrets are expressed, for instance,
in the seventh scene of my first Mystery Drama.
[ Note 3 ]
This leads to the possibility of seeing the human being linked once more
with the cosmos. But for this we cannot apply to the human being what
our intellect teaches us about external nature. You must understand
that if you study external nature, and then study your head in the
same way as you would external nature, you are then studying
something which simply does not belong to external nature as it now
is, but something that comes from your former incarnation. You are
studying something as though it had arisen at the present moment; but
it is not something that has arisen out of the present moment, nor
could it ever arise out of the present moment. For a human head could
not possibly arise out of the forces of nature which exist. So the
human head must not be studied in the same way as objects are studied
with the intellect. It must be studied with the knowledge given by
Imagination. The human head will not be understood until it is
studied with the knowledge given by Imagination.
In the
rhythmical human being everything comes into movement. Here we have
to do with the watery and the airy elements. Everything
is in
surging movement. The external, solid parts of our breast
organization are only what our head sends down into this surging
motion. To study the rhythmical human being we have to say that in
this rhythmical surging the watery element and the airy element
mingle together (see diagram, green, yellow). Into this, the head
sends the possibility for the solid parts, such as those in the
lungs, to be present (white). This surging, which is the real
rhythmical human being, can only be studied with the knowledge given
by Inspiration. So the rhythmical human being can only be studied
with the knowledge given by Inspiration.
And the
human being of limbs and metabolism — this is the continuous
burning of the air in us. You stand within it, in your warmth you
feel yourself to be a human being, but this is a very obscure idea.
It can only be studied properly with the knowledge given by
Intuition, in which the soul stands within the object. Only the
knowledge given by Intuition can lead to the human being of
metabolism and limbs.
The human
being will remain forever unknown if he is not studied with the
knowledge given by Imagination, Inspiration and Intuition. He will
forever remain the external shell which is all that is recognized
today, both in general and in science. This situation must not be
allowed to remain. The human being must come once more to be
recognized for what he is. If you study only the solid parts of the
human being, the parts which are shown in the illustrations in
anatomy textbooks, then, right from the start, you are studying
wrongly. Your study ought to be in the realm of Imagination, because
all these illustrations of the solid parts of the human organism
ought to be taken as images brought over from the previous
incarnation. This is the first thing. Then come the even more
delicate parts which live in the physical constituents. These can
only be studied with the knowledge given by Inspiration. And the
airy-watery element can only be studied with the knowledge given by
Intuition. These things must be taken into European consciousness,
indeed into the whole of modern civilization. If we fail to place
them in the mainstream of culture, our civilization will only go
downhill instead of upwards.
When you
understand what Goethe intended with his
Faust,
you sense that
he was endeavouring to pass through a certain gateway. Everywhere he
is struggling with the question: What is it that we need to know
about this human being? As a very young man he began to study the
human form. Read his discourse on the intermaxillary bone and also
what I wrote about it in my edition of his scientific writings.
[ Note 4 ]
He is endeavouring so hard to come to an understanding
of man. First he tried by way of anatomy and physiology. Then in the
nineties he explored the aspect of moral ideas which we find in the
fairy tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily.
Then, in
Faust,
he wants to depict the human being as he stands in the
world. He is trying to pass through a gateway in order to discover
how the human being does, in fact, stand in the world. But he lacks
the necessary prerequisites; he cannot do it.
When
Calderón wrote his drama about Cyprianus, the struggle was still
taking place at a previous level. We see how Justina tears herself
free of Satan's clutches, how Cyprianus goes mad, how they find one
another in death, and how their salvation comes as they meet their
end on the scaffold. Above them the serpent appears — on it
rides the demon who is forced to announce their salvation.
We see
that at the time when Calderon was writing his Cyprianus drama the
message to be clearly stated was: You cannot find the divine,
spiritual realm here on earth. First you must die and go through the
portal of death; then you will discover the divine spiritual world,
that salvation which you can find through Christ. They were still far
from understanding the Mystery of Golgotha through which Christ had
descended to earth, where it now ought to be possible to find him.
Calderon still has too many heathen and Jewish elements in his ideas
for him to have a fully developed sense for Christianity.
After
that, a good deal of time passed before Goethe started to work on his
Faust.
He sensed that it was necessary for Faust to find his
salvation here on earth. The question he should therefore have asked
was: How can Faust discover the truth of Paul's words: ‘Not I,
but Christ in me’?
[ Note 5 ]
Goethe should have let his
Faust say not only, to ‘Stand on free soil among a people
free’,
[ Note 6 ]
but also: to ‘stand on free soil with
Christ in one's soul leading the human being in earthly life to the
spirit’. Goethe should have let Faust say something like this.
But Goethe is honest; he does not say it because he has not yet fully
understood it. But he is striving to understand it. He is striving
for something which can only be achieved when it is possible to say:
Learn to know man through Imagination, Inspiration, Intuition. That
he is striving in this way gives us the feeling that there is much
more in his struggle and in his endeavour than he ever managed to
express or than has filtered through into today's culture. Perhaps he
can only be fully recognized by doing what I did in my early writings
when I endeavoured to express the ‘world view which lived
almost unconsciously in him. However, on the whole, his search has
met with little understanding amongst the people of today.
When I look
at this whole situation in connection with modern civilization, I am
constantly reminded of my old teacher and friend, Karl Julius Schröer.
[ Note 7 ]
I think particularly of how, in the
eighties of the last century, Schröer was working on
Faust
and on Goethe's other plays, writing commentaries,
introductions and so on. He was not in the least concerned to speak
about Goethe in clearly defined concepts but merely gave general
indications. Yet he was at pains to make people understand that what
lived most profoundly in Goethe must enter into mainstream modern
culture. On the fiftieth anniversary of Goethe's death, in 1882,
Schröer gave an address: ‘How the future will see
Goethe’. He lived with the dream that the time had already come
for a kind of resurrection of Goethe. Then we wrote a short essay in
Die Neue Freie Presse
which was reprinted in the booklet
‘Goethe and Love’.
This and other of his writings have
now been acquired by our publisher,
Der Kommende Tag,
so remaindered copies can be acquired there, and there will also be new
editions eventually. This essay ‘Goethe after 50 Years’
is a brief extract from that lecture, at which I was present. It
contains a good deal of what Schröer felt at that time regarding
the need for Goethe to be assimilated into modern culture. And then
in this booklet ‘Goethe and Love’ he endeavoured to show
in the notes how Goethe could be made to come alive, for to bring
Goethe to life is, in a sense, to bring the world of abstract
thoughts to life. In the recent number of
Das Goetheanum
I referred to a beautiful passage about this in the booklet
‘Goethe and Love’. Schröer says: ‘Schiller
recognized him. When an intuitive genius searches for the character
of necessity in the empirical realm, he will always produce
individuals even though these may have a generic aspect. With his
intuitive method of seeing the eternal idea, the primeval type, in
the mortal individual, Goethe is perhaps not as alone as one might
assume.’
While
Schröer was writing this booklet in 1882 I visited him a number
of times. He was filled to the brim with an impression he had had. He
had heard somewhere how Oppolzer, a physician in Vienna, used a
rather vague intuitive faculty when making his diagnoses. Instead of
examining the patient in the usual way, he allowed the type of the
patient to make an impression on him, and from the type of the
patient he deduced something of the type of the illness. This made a
strong impression on Schröer, and he used this phenomenon to
enlarge on what he was trying to explain: ‘In medicine we extol
the ability of great diagnosticians to fathom the disease by
intuitively discerning the individual patient's type, his habitude.
They are not helped by chemical or anatomical knowledge but by an
intuitive sense for the living creature as a whole being. They are
creative spirits who see the sun because their eyeis sunlike. Others
do not see the sun. What these diagnosticians are doing unconsciously
is to follow the intuitive method which Goethe consciously applied as
a means of scientific study. The results he achieved are no longer
disputed, though the method is not yet generally
recognized.’
Out of a
conspectus which included Oppolzer's intuitive bedside method,
Schröer even then was pointing out that the different sciences,
for example, medicine, needed fructifying by a method which worked
together with the spirit.
It is
rather tragic to look back and see in Schröer one of the last of
those who still sensed what was most profound in Goethe. At the
beginning of the eighties of the last century Schroer believed that
there would have to be a Goethe revival, but soon after that Goethe
was truly nailed into his coffin and buried with sweeping finality.
His grave, we could say, was in Central Europe, in the
Goethe-Gesellschaft,
whose English branch was called the
Goethe Society. This is where the living Goethe was buried. But now
it is necessary to bring this living element, which was in Goethe,
back into our culture. Karl Julius Schroer's instinct was good. In
his day he was unable to fulfil it because his contemporaries
continued to worship the dead Goethe. ‘He who would study
organic existence, first drives out the soul with rigid persistence.’
[ Note 8 ]
This
became the motto, and in some very wide circles this motto has
intensified into a hatred against any talk of spiritual things
— as you can see in the way Anthroposophy is received by many
people.
Today's
culture, which all of you have as your background, urgently needs
this element of revival. It is quite extraordinary how much talk
there is today of Goethe's
Faust,
which after all simply
represents a new stage in the struggle for the spirit which we saw in
Calderón's Cyprianus drama. So much is said about
Faust,
yet there is no understanding for the task of the present time, which
is to bring fully to life what Goethe brought to life in his
Faust,
especially in the second part. Goethe brought it to
life in a vague, intuitive sensing, though not with full spiritual
insight. We ought to turn our full attention to this, for indeed it
is not only a matter of a world view. It is a matter of our whole
culture and civilization. There are many symptoms, if only we can see
them in the right light.
Here is
an essay by Ruedorffer
[ Note 9 ]
entitled
‘The Three Crises’.
Every page gives us a painful knock. The writer played
important roles in the diplomatic and political life of Europe before
the war and on into the war. Now, with his intimate knowledge of the
highways and byways of European-life, and because he was able to
observe things from vantage points not open to most, he is seeking an
explanation of what is actually going on. I need only read you a few
passages. He wants to be a realist, not an idealist. During the
course of his diplomatic career he has developed a sober view of
life. And despite the fact that he has written such things as the
passages I am going to read to you he remains that much appreciated
character, a bourgeois philistine.
He deals
with three things in his essay. Firstly he says that the countries
and nations of Europe no longer have any relationship with one
another. Then he says that the governing circles, the leaders of the
different nations, have no relationship with the population. And
thirdly he says that those people in particular who want to work out
and found a new age by radical means most certainly have no
relationship with reality.
So a
person who played his part in bringing about the situation that now
exists writes: ‘This sickness of the state organism snatches
leadership away from good sense and hands responsibility for
decisions of state to all sorts of minor influences and secondary
considerations. It inhibits freedom of movement, fragments the
national will and usually also leads to a dangerous instability of
governments. The period of unruly nationalism that preceded the war,
the war itself, and the situation in Europe since the war, have made
monstrous demands on the good sense of all the states, and on their
peace and their freedom to manoevre. The loss of wealth brought about
by necessary measures has completed the catastrophe. The crisis of
the state and the crisis in world-wide organization have mutually
exacerbated the situation, each magnifying the destructive effect of
the other.’ These are not the words of an idealist, or of some
artistic spirit who watched from the sidelines, but of someone who
shared in creating the situation. He says, for instance: ‘If
democracy is to endure, it must be honest and courageous enough to
call a spade a spade, even if it means bearing witness against
itself. Europe faces ruin.’
So it is
not only pessimistic idealists who say that Europe is faced with
ruin. The same is said especially by those who stood in the midst of
practical life. One of these very people says:
‘Europe faces ruin. There is no time to waste by covering up
mistakes for party political reasons, instead of setting about
putting them to rights. It is for this reason alone, and not to set
myself up as laudator temporis acti, that I have to stress
that democracy must, and will, destroy itself if it cannot free the
state from this snare of minor influences and secondary
considerations. Pre-war Europe collapsed because all the countries of
the continent — the monarchies as well as the democracies and,
above all, autocratic Russia — succumbed to demagogy, partly
voluntarily, partly unconsciously, partly with reluctance because
their hand was forced. In the confusion of mind, for which they had
only themselves to thank, they were incapable of recognizing good
sense, and even if they had recognized it they would have been
incapable of acting on it freely and decisively. The higher social
strata of the old states of Europe — who, in the last century,
were certainly the bearers of European culture and rich in
personalities of statesmanlike quality and much world experience
— would not have been so easily thrown from the saddle, rotten
and expended, if they had grown with the problems and tasks of new
times, if they had not lost their statesmanlike spirit, and if they
had preserved any more worthwhile tradition than that of the most
trivial diplomatic routine. If monarchs claim the ability to select
statesmen more proficiently and expertly than governments, then they
and their courts must be the centre and epitome of culture, insight
and understanding. Long before the war this ceased to be the case.
But indictment of the monarchs’ failures does not exonerate the
democracies from recognizing the causes of their own inadequacies or
from doing everything possible to eliminate them. Before Europe can
recover, before any attempt can be made to replace its hopeless
disorganization with a durable political structure, the individual
countries will have to tidy up their internal affairs to an extent
which will free their governments for long-term serious work.
Otherwise, the best will in the world and the greatest capability
will be paralysed, tied down by the web of the disaster which is the
same wherever we look.’
I would
not bother to read all this to you if it had been written by an
idealist, instead of by someone who considers his feet to be firmly
on the ground of reality because he played a part in bringing the
current situation about.
‘The drama is deeply tragic. Every attempt at improvement,
every word of change, becomes entangled in this web, throttled by a
thousand threads, until it falls to the ground without effect. The
citizens of Europe — thoughtlessly clutching the contemporary
erroneous belief in the constant progress of mankind, or, with loud
lamentations trotting along in the same old rut — fail to see,
and do not want to see, that they are living off the stored-up labour
of earlier years; they are barely capable of recognizing the present
broken-down state of the world order, and are certainly incapable of
bringing a new one to birth. On the other hand, the workers, treading
a radical path in almost every country and convinced of the
untenability of the present situation, believe themselves to be the
bringers of salvation through a new order of things; but in reality
this belief has made them into nothing more than an unconscious tool
of destruction and decline, their own included. The new parasites of
economic disorganization, the complaining rich of yester-year, the
petit bourgeois descending to the level of the proletariat,
the gullible worker believing himself to be the founder of a new
world — all of them seem to be engulfed by the same disaster,
all of them are blind men digging their own grave.’
Remember,
this is not written by an idealist, but by one who shared in bringing
about this situation!
‘But every political factor today — the recent peace
treaties of the Entente, the Polish invasion of the Ukraine,
the blindness or helplessness of the Entente with regard to
developments in Germany and Austria — proves to the politician
who depends on reality that although idealistic demands for a
pan-European, constructive revision of the Paris peace treaties can
be made, although the most urgent warnings can be shockingly
justified, nevertheless, both demands and warnings can but die away
unnoticed while everything rolls on unchanged towards the inevitable
end — the abyss.’
The whole
book is written in order to prove that Europe has come to the brink
of the abyss and that we are currently employed in digging the grave
of European civilization. But all this is only an introduction to
what I now find it necessary to say to you. What I have to say is
something different. Here we have a man who was himself an occupant
of crucial seats of office, a man who realizes that Europe is on the
brink of the abyss. And yet — as we can see in the whole of his
book — all he has to say is: If all that happens is only a
continuation of older impulses, then civilization will perish; it
will definitely perish. Something new must come.
So now
let me search for this new thing to which he wants to point. Yes,
here it is, on page 67; here it is, in three lines: ‘Only a
change of heart in the world, a change of will by the major powers,
can lead to the creation of a supreme council of European good
sense.’
Yes, this
is the decision that faces these people. They point out that only if
a change of heart comes about, if something entirely new is brought
into being, can the situation be saved. This whole book is written to
show that without this there can be no salvation. There is a good
deal of truth in this. For, in truth, salvation for our collapsing
civilization can only come from a spiritual life drawn from the real
sources of the spirit. There is no other salvation. Without it,
modern civilization, in so far as it is founded in Europe and reaches
across to America, is drawing towards its close. Decay is the most
important phenomenon of our time. There is no help in reaching
compromises with decay. Help can only come from turning to something
that can flourish above the grave, because it is more powerful than
death. And that is spiritual life. But people like the writer of this
book have only the most abstract notion of what this entails. They
say an international change of heart must take place. If anything is
said about a real, new blossoming of spiritual life, this is branded
as ‘useless mysticism’. All people can say is: Look at
them, bringing up all kinds of occult and mystical things; we must
have nothing to do with them.
Those who
are digging the grave of modern civilization most busily are those
who actually have the insight to see that the digging is going on.
But the only real way of taking up a stance with regard to these
things is to look at them squarely, with great earnestness — to
meditate earnestly on the fact that a new spiritual life is what is
needed and that it is necessary to search for this spiritual life, so
that at last a way may be found of finding Christ within earthly
life, and of finding Him as He has become since the Mystery of
Golgotha. For He descended in order to unite with the conditions of
the earth.
The
strongest battle against real Christian truth is being fought today
by a certain kind of theology which raises its hands in horror at any
mention of the cosmic Christ. It is necessary to be reminded again
and again that even in the days when Schröer was pointing to
Goethe as a source for a regeneration of civilization, a book
appeared by a professor in Basel — a friend of Nietzsche
— about modern Christian theology. Overbeck
[ Note 10 ]
considered at that time that theology was the most un-Christian
thing, and as a historian of theology he sought to prove this. So
there was at that time in Basel a professor of theological history
who set out to prove that theology is un-Christian!
Mankind
has drifted inevitably towards catastrophe because it failed to hear
the isolated calls, which did exist but which were, it must be said,
still very unclear. Today there is no longer any time to lose.
Today
mankind must know that descriptions such as that given by Ruedorffer
are most definitely true and that it is most definitely necessary to
realize how everything is collapsing because of the continuation of
the old impulses. There is only one course to follow: We must turn
towards what can grow out of the grave, out of the living spirit.
This is
what must be pointed out ever and again, especially in connection
with the things with which we are concerned.
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