V
We have now
studied a number of examples showing how destiny unfolds, examples
which can explain and illumine the life and history of mankind. The
purpose of these studies has been to show that individuals themselves
carry into later epochs of earthly existence what they have
experienced and assimilated in earlier times. Connections have come
to light which enable us to understand how certain decisive actions
of men have their roots in moral causes created by themselves in the
course of the ages.
It is not this
kind of causal connection only that the study of karma can disclose
to us. Many other things, too, become intelligible, which to external
observation seem at first obscure and incomprehensible. But if we are
to participate in the great change in thinking and perception that is
essential in the near future if civilisation is to progress and not
fall into decline, it is incumbent upon us to develop, in the first
place, a sense for what in ordinary circumstances is beyond our grasp
and the understanding of which requires insight into the deeper
relationships of existence. A man who finds everything comprehensible
may, of course, see no need to know anything of more deeply lying
causes. But to find everything in the world comprehensible is a sign
of illusion and merely indicates superficiality. In point of fact the
vast majority of things in the world are incomprehensible to the
ordinary consciousness. To be able to stand in wonder before so much
that is incomprehensible in everyday life — that is really the
beginning of a true striving for knowledge.
A call that has so
often gone out from this platform is that anthroposophists shall have
enthusiasm in their seeking, enthusiasm for what is implicit
in Anthroposophy. And this enthusiasm must take its start from a
realisation of the wonders confronting us in everyday life. Only then
shall we be led to reach out to the causes, to the deeper forces
underlying existence around us.
This attitude of
wonder towards the surrounding world can spring both from
contemplation of history and from observation of what is immediately
present. How often our attention is arrested by events in history
which seem to indicate that human life here and there has lost all
rhyme and reason. And human life does indeed lose meaning if we focus
our attention upon a single event in history and omit to ask: How do
certain types of character emerge from this event? What form will
they take in a later incarnation? ... If such questions remain
unasked, certain events in history seem to be entirely meaningless,
irrelevant, pointless. They lose meaning if they cannot become
impulses of soul in a subsequent life on earth, find their balance
and then work on into the future.
Now there is
certainly something that really does not make sense in the phenomenon
of a personality such as the Roman Emperor Nero. No reference
has yet been made to Nero in lectures in the Anthroposophical
Movement.
Think of all that
history recounts of Nero. In face of such a personality it seems as
if life could be mocked and scorned with impunity, as if the utterly
flippant disregard for life displayed by one in a position of great
power and authority, brought no consequences. Anyone hearing of
Nero's deeds must be dull-witted if he is not driven to ask:
What becomes of a soul such as this, who scorns the whole world, who
regards the life of other men, nay even the existence of a whole
city, as something he can play with? “What an artist is lost in
me!” is a saying attributed to Nero, and it seems to be in line
with his whole attitude and tenor of mind. Utmost flippancy, an
intense desire and urge for destruction, acknowledged even by himself
— and the soul actually taking pleasure in it
all!
One can only be
repelled by the story, for here is a personality who literally
radiates destruction. And the question forces itself upon us: What
becomes of such a soul?
Now we must be
quite clear on this point: Whatever is discharged, as it were, upon
the world, is reflected in the life between death and a new birth,
and discharged in turn upon the soul who has been responsible for the
destruction. A few centuries later, that is to say, a comparatively
short time afterwards, Nero appeared again in the world in an
unimportant form of existence. During this incarnation a certain
balance was brought about in respect of the mania for destruction,
the enthusiasm for destruction in which he had indulged as a ruler,
simply out of an inner urge. In that next life on earth something of
this was balanced out, for the same individuality was now in a
position where he was obliged to destroy; he was in a subordinate
position, acting under orders. The soul had now to realise what it is
like when such acts are not committed out of free will while
in a position of supreme power.
Matters of this
kind must be studied quite objectively and all emotion avoided
— that is absolutely essential. In a certain respect, such a
destiny calls for pity — for to be as cruel as Nero, to have a
mania for destruction as great as his, is, after all, a destiny.
There is no need for hatred or censure; moreover such an attitude
would prevent one from experiencing all that is required in order to
understand the further developments. Insight into the things that
have been spoken of here is possible only when they are looked at
objectively, when no hostile judgment is passed but when human
destiny is really understood. Things disclose themselves quite
clearly, provided one has the faculty for understanding them ... That
this Nero-destiny came vividly before me on one occasion was
attributable to what seemed to be chance — but it was only
seemingly chance.
One day, when a
terrible event had occurred, an event of which I shall speak in a
moment and which had a shattering effect throughout the region
concerned, I happened to be visiting a person frequently mentioned in
my autobiography: Karl Julius Schröer. When I arrived I found
him profoundly shocked, as numbers were, by what had happened. And
the word “Nero” fell from his lips — apparently
without reason — as though it burst from dark depths of the
spirit. To all appearances the word came entirely out of the blue.
But later on it became quite clear that in reality the Akashic Record
was here being voiced through human lips. The event referred to was
the following. —
The Austrian Crown
Prince had always been acclaimed as a brilliant personality, and
great hopes were entertained for the time when he would ascend the
Throne. Although all kinds of things were known about the behaviour
of the Crown Prince Rudolf, they were accepted as almost inevitable
in the case of one of such high rank; nobody dreamt for a moment that
the things told about him might lead to any serious, tragic
conflicts. It was therefore an overwhelming shock when it became
known in Vienna that the Crown Prince Rudolf had met his death in
mysterious circumstances near the Convent of the Holy Cross, outside
Baden, near Vienna. Details gradually came to light and at first
there was talk of a “fatal accident” — indeed this
was officially announced. Then, after the official announcement, it
became known that the Crown Prince had gone to his hunting lodge
accompanied by the Baroness Vetsera and that there they had both met
their death.
The details are so
well-known that there is no need to recount them here. All that
followed made it impossible for anyone acquainted with the
circumstances to doubt that this was a case of suicide. For what
happened first of all was that after the issue of the official
announcement of the fatal accident, the Prime Minister of Hungary,
Koloman Tisza, took exception to this version, and obtained from the
then Emperor of Austria the promise that this incorrect statement
should not be allowed to stand. The Hungarian Prime Minister refused
to be responsible for making this announcement to his people, and he
was very emphatic in his refusal. Besides this, there was a man on
the medical staff who was one of the most courageous doctors in
Vienna at the time and who was to assist at the post-mortem
examination; and this man said that he would sign nothing that was
not corroborated by the objective facts.
Well, the
objective facts were a clear indication of suicide; this was
officially admitted and the earlier announcement corrected. And if
there were no other circumstances than the admission of suicide by a
family as fervently Catholic as that of the Austrian Emperor, that
alone would have precluded the slightest shadow of
doubt.
Nobody who can
judge the facts objectively will think of doubting it, but there is
one very obvious question: How was it possible that anyone with such
a brilliant future should turn to suicide when faced with
circumstances which, in his position, could easily have remained
concealed? Obviously, there was no objective reason why a Crown
Prince should commit suicide on account of a love affair — I
mean that there was no objective reason attributable to external
circumstances.
There was no
objective reason for such an action, but the fact was that this heir
to a Throne found life utterly worthless — a state of mind
which had, of course, a psychopathological basis. This itself needs
to be understood, for a pathological condition of the soul is also
connected with destiny. And the fundamental fact here is that one to
whom a brilliant future was beckoning, found life utterly
worthless.
This, my dear
friends, is one of those phenomena in life which seem to be wholly
inexplicable. And in spite of all that has been written or said about
the whole affair, a true judgment can be formed only by one who says
to himself: This single human life, this life of Crown Prince Rudolf
of Austria, gives no clue to the suicide or to the causes of the
preceding pathological state of mind; something else must be at the
bottom of it all.
And now, if you
picture to yourself the Nero soul, having subsequently experienced
what I described and passing at length into that heir to a Throne who
does away with himself, who forces the consequences by means of
suicide ... then the whole setting is altered. Within the soul there
is a tendency which originates in preceding earthly lives; in the
time between death and rebirth the soul perceives in direct vision
that nothing but forces of destruction have issued from it —
and now the ‘grand reversal’, as I will call it, has to
be experienced.
And how is it
experienced? — A life abounding in things of external value
reflects itself inwardly in such a way that its bearer considers it
utterly worthless, and commits suicide. The soul becomes sick, half
demented, seeking an external entanglement in the love affair, and so
forth. But these things are merely the consequences of the
soul's endeavour as it were to direct against itself all the
arrows which in the past had been directed to the world. And then,
when we have insight into these relationships, we perceive the
unfolding of an overwhelming tragedy, but for all that a righteous,
just tragedy. The two pictures are co-ordinated.
As I have said so
often, it is the underlying details that make real investigation
possible in such domains. Many factors in life must work together
here.
I told you that
when this shattering event had just occurred, I was on my way to
Schröer. The event itself was not the reason for my visit
— I happened to be on the way to him and he was the first
person to whom I spoke about the matter. He said: “Nero!
...” — quite out of the blue, and I could not help asking
myself: Why does he think of Nero just at this moment? He actually
introduced the conversation with the mention of Nero. This amazed me
at the time. But the shattering effect was all the greater in view of
the particular circumstances in which the word “Nero” was
uttered. Two days previously — all this was public knowledge
— a Soirée had been held at the house of Prince Reuss,
then German Ambassador in Vienna. The Austrian Crown Prince was
present, and Schröer too, and the latter saw how the Crown
Prince was behaving on that occasion — two days before the
catastrophe. The strange behaviour at the Soirée, the suicide
two days later, all of it described so dramatically by Schröer
— this, in connection with the utterance of the name
“Nero”, made one realise that there was good reason for
further investigation.
Now why did I
often follow up things that happened to fall from
Schröer's lips? It was not that I simply took anything he
said as a pointer, for he, of course, knew nothing of such matters.
But many things he said, especially those which seemed to shoot out
of the blue, were significant for me because of something that once
came to light in a curious way.
A conversation I
had with Schröer on one occasion led to the subject of
phrenology. Not humorously, but with the seriousness with which he
was wont to speak — of such things, employing a certain
solemnity of language even in everyday matters, Schröer said to
me: “I too was once examined by a phrenologist. He felt my head
all over and discovered up there the bump of which he said:
‘There's the theosophist in you’.” —
Remember that this was in the eighties of last century when there was
as yet no talk of Anthroposophy. It was Schröer, not I, who was
examined by the phrenologist who said: “There's the
theosophist in you.” Now Schröer, outwardly, was far from
being a theosophist — my autobiography makes that abundantly
clear. But it was just when he spoke of things without apparent
motive that his utterances were sometimes profoundly significant. And
so there seemed to be a certain connection between the utterance of
the word ‘Nero’ and the outer confirmation of his
theosophical trend. This was what made him a personality to whose
spontaneous utterances one paid heed.
And so
investigation into the Nero destiny shed light on the subsequent
Meyerling destiny and it was found that in the personality of the
Austrian Crown Prince Rudolf one actually had to do with the Nero
soul.
This investigation
— which has taken a long time, for in matters of this kind one
must be extremely cautious — presented special difficulties to
me because I was continually being diverted by the fact that all
kinds of people — you may believe it or not — were
claiming with fanatical insistence that they themselves had been
Nero! So it was a matter, first of all, of combating the subjective
force emanating from these alleged reborn Neroes. One had to get
through a kind of thicket.
But what I am
telling you now, my dear friends, is much more important because it
has to do with an historical phenomenon, namely, Nero himself.
And to understand the further development is much more important than
to understand, let us say, the actual catastrophe at Meyerling. For
now we see how things which, to begin with, arouse horror and
indignation — as does the life of Nero — live themselves
out according to a perfect world-justice; we see how this
world-justice is fulfilled and how the wrong returns, but in such a
way that the individuality is himself involved in creating the
balance. — That is what is so stupendous about
karma.
Still more can
become clear when such wrong is balanced out in the course of
particular earthly lives. In this case the balance will be almost
complete, for you will realise how closely the fulfilment is bound up
with the compensatory deed. Just think of it ... a life which
considers itself worthless, so worthless that a whole Empire (Austria
was then a great Empire) and the rulership of it are abandoned! The
suicide in such circumstances bears the consequence that after death
it all has to be lived through in direct spiritual vision. This is
the fulfilment, albeit the terrible fulfilment, of what may be called
the righteous justice of destiny, the balancing out of the
wrong.
But on the other
hand, leaving all this aside, there was a tremendous force in Nero
— a force which must not be lost for humanity. This force must
of course be purified and we have spoken of the purification. If this
has been accomplished, such a soul will carry its forces into later
epochs of the earth's existence with salutary effects. When we
apprehend karma as righteous compensation, we shall never fail to see
how it tests the human being, puts him to the test even when he takes
his place in life in a way that horrifies us. The just compensation
is brought about, but the human forces are not lost. What has been
committed in one life may, under certain circumstances, and provided
the righteous justice has taken effect, even be transformed into a
power for good. That is why a destiny such as the one described
to-day is so profoundly moving.
This brings us to
the consideration of good and evil, viewed in the light of karma:
good and evil, fortune and misfortune, happiness and sorrow —
as man experiences them breaking into, shining into, his individual
life.
In regard to
perception of a man's moral situation there was far greater
sensitivity in earlier epochs of history than is to be found in
modern humanity. Men of the present age are not really sensitive at
all to the problem of destiny. Now and again, of course, one comes
across someone who has an inkling of the onset of destiny; but real
understanding of its problems is shrouded in darkness and
bewilderment in our modern civilisation, which regards the single
earthly life as something complete in itself. Things happen —
and that is that. A disaster that befalls a man is commented on but
not really pursued in thought. This is pre-eminently the case when
through something that seems to be pure chance, a man who to all
appearances is thoroughly good and who has committed no wrong, either
perishes, or perhaps does not actually perish but has to endure
terrible suffering on account of some injury, or other cause. No
thought is given to why such a fate should cut in this way into a
so-called innocent life.
Humanity was not
always so obtuse and insensitive with regard to the problem of
destiny. We need not go very far back in time to find that blows of
destiny were felt to strike in from other worlds — even the
destiny a man has brought upon himself.
What is the
explanation of this? The explanation is that in earlier times men
were not only endowed with instinctive clairvoyance but even when
this had faded, its fruits were still preserved in traditions;
moreover external conditions and customs did not conduce to such a
superficial, commonplace view of the world as prevails to-day, in the
age of materialism. There is much talk nowadays of the harmfulness of
purely materialistic-naturalistic thinking which has become so
universal and has even crept into the various creeds — for the
religions too have become materialistic. In no single domain is outer
civilisation sincerely desirous of knowing anything about the
spiritual world and although men talk in theory of the need to fight
this trend, a theoretical battle against materialistic ideas achieves
very little. The point of salient importance is that by reason of the
conception of the world which has led men to freedom, which will do
so still more, and which constitutes a transitional period in the
history of human evolution — by reason of this conception of
the world, a certain means of healing that was available in earlier
epochs for outer sense-observation has been lost.
In the early
centuries of Greek civilisation — in fact it was so for a
considerable time — men saw in nature around them the outer,
phenomenal world. The Greek, as well as modern man, looked out at
nature. True, the Greek saw nature in a rather different aspect, for
the senses themselves have evolved — but that is not the point
here. The Greek had a remedy wherewith to counteract the organic harm
that is caused in man when he merely gazes out into
nature.
We do not only
become physiologically long-sighted with age as the result of having
gazed constantly at nature, but this gives our soul a certain
configuration. As it gazes at nature, the soul realises inwardly that
not all the demands of vision are being satisfied. Unsatisfied
demands of vision remain. And this holds good for the process of
perception in general — hearing, feeling, and so forth. Certain
elements in the perceptive process remain unsatisfied when we gaze
out into nature. It is more or less the same as if a man in physical
existence wished to spend his whole life without taking adequate
food. Such a man deteriorates physically. But when he merely gazes at
nature, the perceptive faculty in his life of soul deteriorates. He
gets a kind of ‘consumption’ of soul in his sense-world.
This was known in the old Mystery-wisdom.
But it was also
known how this ‘consumption’ in the life of soul can be
counteracted. It was known that the Temple Architecture, where
men beheld the equipose between downbearing weight and upbearing
support, or when, as in the East, they beheld forms that were really
plastic representations of moral forces, when they looked at the
architectural forms confronting the eye and the whole of the
perceptive process, or experienced the musical element in these forms
— it was known that here was the remedy against the consumption
which befalls the senses when they merely gaze out into nature. And
when the Greek was led into his temple where he beheld the pillars,
above them the architrave, the inner composition and dynamic of it
all, then his gaze was bounded and completed. When a man looks at
nature his gaze is really no more than a stare, going on into
infinity, never reaching an end. In natural science too, every
problem leads on and on, in this way, without coming to finality. But
the gaze is bounded and completed when one faces a work of great
architecture created with the aim of intercepting the vision,
rescuing it from the pull of nature. There you have one feature of
life in olden times: this capturing of the outward
gaze.
And again, when a
man turns his gaze inwards to-day, it does not penetrate to the
innermost core of his being. If he practises self-knowledge, what he
perceives is a surging medley of all kinds of emotions and outer
impressions, without clarity or definition. He cannot lay hold of
himself inwardly; he lacks the strength to grasp this inner reality
in imaginations, in pictures — as he must do before he can make
any real approach to the inmost kernel of his
being.
It is here that
cult and ritual enacted reverently before men take effect. Everything
of the nature of cult and ritual, not the external rites only but
comprehension of the world expressed in imagery and pictures,
leads man towards his innermost being. As long as he strives for
self-knowledge with abstract ideas and concepts, nothing is achieved.
But when he penetrates into his inmost being with pictures that give
concrete definition to experiences of soul, then he achieves his aim.
The inmost kernel of his being comes within his
grasp.
How often have I
not said that man must meditate in pictures, in images.
This has been dealt with at ample length, even in public
lectures.
And so, looking at
man in the past, we find on the one side that his gaze and
perception, when directed outwards, are as it were bounded,
intercepted, by architectonic forms; on the other side, his
inward-turned gaze is bounded and held firm by picturing his
soul-life; and this can also be presented to him through the imagery
of cult and ritual.
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On the one side,
therefore, there is the descent into the inmost being; on the other,
the outward gaze lights upon the forms displayed in sacred
architecture. A certain union is thereby achieved. Between what comes
alive within and that upon which the gaze falls, there is an
intermediate domain, imperceptible to man in his everyday
consciousness because his outward gaze is not captured by forms of
architecture born of deep, inner knowledge, nor is his inward gaze
given definition by pictures and imaginations. But there is this
intermediate domain ... if you let that work in your life, if
you go about with inner self-knowledge deepened through imagination,
and with sense-perceptions made whole and complete through forms
created and inspired by a real understanding of man's nature
... then your feeling in regard to strokes of destiny will be the
same as it was in olden times. By cultivating the domain that lies
between the experience of true architectonic form and the experience
of true, symbolic imagery along the path inwards, a man becomes
sensitive to the strokes of destiny. He feels that what befalls him
comes from earlier lives on earth.
This again is an
introduction to the studies which we shall be pursuing and which will
include consideration of the good and the evil in connection with
karma.
But what is of
salient importance is that within the Anthroposophical Movement there
shall be right thinking. The architecture that would have fulfilled
the needs of modern man, that would have been able to capture his
gaze in the right way and to have led naturalistic perception, which
veils and obscures the vision of karma, gradually into real vision
— this architecture did once exist, in a certain form. And the
fact that anthroposophical thoughts were uttered in the setting of
those forms, kindled the inner vision. Among its other aspects the
Goetheanum Building, together with the way in which Anthroposophy
would have been cultivated in it, was in itself an education for the
vision of karma. And that is what must be introduced into modern
civilisation: education for the vision of karma.
But needless to
say, it was in the interests of those who are opposed to what ought
now to enter civilisation, that such a Building should fall a prey to
the flames ... There, too, it is possible to look into the deeper
connections. But let us hope that, before very long, forms that
awaken a vision of karma will again stand before us, at the same
place.
This is what I
wanted to say in conclusion to-day, when so many friends from abroad
are still with us after our Easter Meeting.
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