Thus,—the proposed criterion being applied in the first place negatively,—the answer to the question, Whether these contemplations in which we have been engaged have belonged to vacant or to True Time? must depend upon this,—-Whether thoughtlessness, frivolity, and fickleness, have disappeared from our Life, and continue to disappear therefrom more and more?
Pure thoughtlessness,—that is, mute and blind sur- render of ourselves to the stream of phenomena, without even entertaining the thought of any unity or foundation therein,—is mere Animalism, and thereby possesses a certain conformity to Nature which we must allow to have its value. It is seldom that man is so fortunate as to possess it. Those questionings after unity still present themselves and demand their reply. He who- CONCLUSION, ° 283 cannot enter upon the inquiry, has no alternative but to harden himself against this impulse, and assume, of his own will, as his true wisdom and the ruling maxim of his life, that absolute thoughtlessness which Nature has denied him as a natural condition. There is no lack of distinguished appellations under which this maxim may be entertained:—Common Sense of Mankind, Scep- ticism, Struggle against Fanaticism and Superstition, &c. According to these doctrines, the animal is the true Philosopher and Sage; folly belongs to man, and con- sists in demanding a foundation and a reason of the visible. This folly the wise man subdues as well as he can, and thus by art brings himself back to the condition of the beast. But should these maxims, with all their distinguished appellations, prove unable to subdue this impulse which demands a secure foundation for our knowledge, then other means are sought to put it to silence. We pretend to rally ourselves on making this effort, and to laugh at ourselves for indulging in this folly, while it is in truth the effort itself which we try to make ridiculous, in order that we may thereby take revenge upon ourselves for having suffered this impulse to surprise and lay hold of us, and also in order that others may not believe us capable of such weakness. We fly from no society more willingly than from our own; and that we may never be left alone with ourselves we endeavour to fill up with mere amusement every portion of time unemployed by those occupations which already keep us from ourselves. This condition is unnatural. Children may by nature desire play be- cause their powers are not yet ripe for earnest employ- ment:—but when grown men can do nothing but play, then this is not for the sake of play itself, but because there is something else which they would willingly forget. ‘Does an earnest thought come in thy way, which thou -wouldst not entertain? Let it alone and pursue the 284 LECTURE XVIL path thou hast begun! This, however, thou doest not, but turnest thyself against it, and summonest up all the resources of thy wit to cover it with ridicule. Where- fore give thyself this trouble? For this cause:—thou canst not bear the presence of this thought in its ori- ginal and earnest form; thou hast no rest till thou hast clothed it in another and to thee more acceptable shape.’ Fickleness and frivolity are unerring signs,—and the more so the greater their degree,—that there is some- thing gnawing within the heart from which we would willingly escape; and just upon that account they are proofs which cannot be mistaken that the noble. nature which they disguise is not wholly dead. He who can cast a searching glance into such souls must feel the deepest commiseration for their state, and for the atmosphere of lies in which they live. They would make all men believe that they are in the highest degree happy and contented, seeking from others the confirmation of ‘that which they themselves know to be false, and with a most sorrowful laughter at their own efforts making themselves appear even worse than they really are.
Have these follies wholly disappeared from our minds? do we no longer shun earnest reflection, but now begin to love it above all things else?—then our contemplations have assuredly belonged not to vacant but to True Time.
Has the Light of Religion arisen within us?—then it not only dispels the previous darkness, but it has also had a true and real existence within us before it could dispel the darkness;—now it spreads itself forth until it em- braces our whole world, and thus becomes the source of New Life. In the beginning of these lectures we have traced everything great and noble in man to this,—that he lose his own personal existence in the Life of the Race; devote his own Life to the purposes of the Race; labour, endure, suffer, and if need be die, as a sacrifice to the Race. In this view it was always deeds,—always CONCLUSION. 285 that which could manifest itself in outward and visible ap- pearance, to which we looked. In this way it was necessary for us to open our communication with the Age. Now, ennobled by our progress from this point of view, as I foretold, we use this language no longer. The one thing truly noble in man, the highest form of the one Idea which has become clear within him, is Religion;—but Religion is nothing external,—it never clothes itself in any outward manifestation; but it completes the Inward Life of Man, itis Spiritual Light and Truth. The true course of action is now disclosed of itself, for Truth cannot act otherwise than according to Truth; but this true course of action is no longer a sacrifice, no longer demands suffering and endurance, but is itself the manifestation and effluence of the highest inward Blessedness. He who, although with reluctance and in conflict with internal darkness, yet acts according to Truth, let him be admired and let his heroism be extolled: he upon whom this Inward Light has arisen has outgrown our admiration and our praise; there is no longer any doubt, opposition or contradiction in his Being, but all is the one, clear, ever-flowing Fountain of Truth. Formerly we expressed ourselves in the following lan- guage:—‘ As when the breath of Spring enlivens the air, the strong and fixed ice, which but a moment before imprisoned each atom within itself, and shut up each neighbouring atom in similar isolation, now no longer maintains its rigid bondage, but flows forth in one free, animated, and glowing flood; so does the Spirit-World ever flow at the breath of Love, and is and abides in eternal communion with the mighty Whole.’ Let us now add:— ‘This atmosphere of the Spirit-World, its creating and combining element, is Liant—this originally: Heat, if it do not again evaporate, but bear within itself an element of endurance, is but the first manifestation of this Light. In the darkness of mere earthly vision, all things stand divided from each other; each individual thing isolated by means of 286 LECTURE XVI.
the cold and unillumined matter in which it is embraced. But in this darkness there is no unity. The Light of Religion arises!—and all things burst forth and rush to- wards each other in reciprocal order and dependence, and float on together, as a united whole, in the One, Eternal, and All-embracing flood of Light.
This Light is mild, gently refreshing, and wholesome to the eye. In the twilight of mere earthly vision the dim shapes which crowd in confusion around us are feared and therefore hated. In the Light of Religion all things are pleasing and shed around them calmness and peace. In it all unlovely shapes disappear, all things float in the glow- ing ether of Love. Not that man submits himself to the law of a high and unchangeable Fate;—in Religion there is no Fate, but only Wisdom and Goodness, to which man is not compelled to submit himself, but which em- brace him with Infinite Love. In these contemplations in which we have been engaged, this joyful and friendly view ought.to have spread itself over our own Age, and over the whole Earthly Life of our Race. The more closely this mild influence has embraced us, the deeper it has penetrated all our thoughts and aspirations,—in a word, the more we have attained to peace with the whole world, and joyful sympathy with every form of existence, the more sure may we be, and the more confidently may we affirm, that our contemplations have belonged not to vacant, but to True Time.
This Light spreads itself forth by its own native energy, and widens the sphere of its influence, until at last it embraces our whole world. As when the earthly light breaks forth in one point, the shadows retire, the limits of day and night are separated, and darkness itself becomes visible though not the particular objects which it veils; soisit with the Light of Religion. In one sphere, in the sphere of our Earthly Life, this Light ought already to have arisen upon us. Has CONCLUSION. 287 CONCLUSION. 287 it truly arisen upon us?—then do we already know, firmly and surely, that also beyond this sphere Wisdom and Goodness reign, because nothing else can possibly attain dominion;—but we do not understand how they rule there, nor what are the purposes which they there unfold. Penetrated with firm and immovable conviction and insight with respect to the fact, there remains to us beyond this sphere, and with reference to the manner of the fact, only Faith. The one sphere is illumined by clear and intelligible Light; the farther region is also sur- rounded by Light, but obscurity still rests upon the super- sensual objects which it contains. But this Light, thus intelligible and clear in itself, does not remain shut up in its original limits, but, as its own brightness increases, it lays hold of the nearest surrounding phenomena, and from these again proceeds to those beyond; the sphere of the Religion of the Understanding is extended, and embraces one portion after another of the realm of Faith. If, therefore, we shall gradually attain to a clearer and clearer understanding of that one thing which alone is worth understanding,—the plans of Divine Wisdom and Goodness—then is this a certain proof that our contem- plations have belonged not to vacant, but to True Time.
In one word, only our future growth in inward Peace and Blessedness, as well as in inward Understanding, can furnish the proof that the doctrine which has been here set forth is True, has been truly accepted by us, and has attained an actual Life within us.
You see that this proof does not show itself outwardly; that no one of us can answer for the other, but each only for himself and from his own soul; and indeed that each can do this best when he answers only within his own soul. You see that in no case can these questions be answered to-day or to-morrow, but that the answer must be deferred for a quite indefinite period of time. You see that here to-day, standing at the conclusion of our labours, we yet 288 LECTURE XVI.
cannot know whether we have accomplished something or nothing; and that upon this subject we can only appeal to the consciousness of our honest intention, if we are able to lay claim to such an intention, and must pass over from the region of Understanding to that of Faith and Hope.
And suppose that we could answer these questions, and answer them in accordance with our own wishes;—what, even in that case, were this assembly in comparison with the populous city in which we stand? and what were this city in comparison with the whole realm of culture?—a drop of water, perhaps, in a mighty stream. Would not this drop of water, animated by a new Life-element,—if indeed it were really so animated,—would it not mingle with the stream, and disappear in it, so that scarcely a single trace of the superadded element should remain? Here again we have nothing left us but the Hope that if it be Truth which we have here announced, and if it have assumed a form intelligible to our Age, this same Truth, in the same form, though without our knowledge, shall also, elsewhere and through other organs, make itself mani- fest to the Age; so that many drops in this great stream may be interpenetrated by the same Life-element, and gradually combining, at last communicate their mutual vitality to the whole.
Let us cherish this Hope, and with this joyful anticipa- tion before us, let us part. Farewell!