I
S
the result of an impulse which I have lately had, let us
consider one of the most important subjects in Anthroposophy.
Anthroposophists are often reproached for their inclination
towards the study of far-distant cosmic developments; and it is
said that they lift themselves into spiritual worlds, too
frequently only considering the far-distant events of the past
and the far-reaching perspective of the future, disregarding a
sphere which is of more immediate interest — the sphere of
human morals and human ethics.
It
is true that this, the realm of human morals, must be looked
upon as the most essential of all. But what must be said in
answer to the reproach that we are less concerned with this
important field of man's soul-life and social life than with
more distant spheres, is that when we realise the significance
and range of anthroposophical life and feeling we are only able
to approach this subject with the deepest reverence, for it
concerns man very closely indeed; and we realise that, if it is
to be considered in the right way, it requires the most
earnest and serious preparation. The above reproach might
perhaps be stated in the following words: What is the use of
making deep studies of the universe? Why talk about numerous
reincarnations, or the complicated conditions of karma, when
surely the most important thing in life is what a certain wise
man after he had attained the summit of this life, and when
after a life of rich wisdom he had grown so weak and ill that
he had to be carried about, repeated again and again to his
followers: “Children, love one another!”
These words were uttered by John the Evangelist when he was an
old man, and it has often been said that in these four words,
“Children, love one another!” is contained the
extract of the deepest and most practical moral wisdom. Hence
many might say: “What more is wanted, provided these
good, sublime and moral ideals can be so simply fulfilled as in
the sense of the words of the Evangelist John?”
When to the above statement one adds that it is sufficient for
people to know that they ought to love one another, one thing
is lost sight of, namely, the circumstance that he who uttered
these words did so at the close of a long life of wisdom, a
life which included the writing of the most profound and
important of the Gospels. A man is only justified in saying
anything so simple at the end of a rich life of wisdom. But one
who is not in that position must first, by going deeply into
the foundations of the secrets of the world, earn the
right to utter the highest moral truths in such a simple
manner.
Trivial as is the oft-repeated assertion, “If the same
thing is said by two persons it never is the same,” it is
especially applicable to the words we have quoted. When someone
who simply declines to know or understand anything about the
mysteries of the Cosmos says: “It is quite a simple
matter to describe the highest moral life,” and uses the
words: “Children, love one another,” it is quite
different from when the evangelist John utters these words, at
the close of such a rich life of wisdom. For this reason, he
who understands these words of St. John ought to draw from them
quite a different conclusion from that usually drawn. The
conclusion should be that one has first of all to be silent
about such profoundly significant words, and that they may only
be uttered when one has gone through the necessary preparation
and reached the necessary maturity.
Now
after we have made this statement — which it is quite
certain many will take earnestly to heart —
something quite different, which is of the deepest importance
will come to our mind. Someone might say: ‘It may be the case
that the deep significance of moral principles can only be
understood when the goal of all wisdom is reached, man uses
them, nevertheless, all the time. How could some moral
community or social work be carried on if one had to wait for a
knowledge of the highest moral principles till the end of a
life of striving for wisdom? Morals are most necessary for
human social life; and now it is asserted that moral principles
can only be obtained at the end of long striving after wisdom.’
A person might therefore reasonably say that he would doubt the
wise arrangement of the world if this were so; if that which is
most necessary could only be gained after the goal of human
effort had been attained.
Life itself gives us, the true answer to what has just been
said. You need only compare two facts which, in one form or
another, are no doubt well known to you and you will at once
perceive that the one can be right as well as the other;
firstly, that we attain to the, highest moral principles and
their understanding only at the conclusion of the effort after
wisdom, and secondly, that moral and social communities and
activities cannot exist without ethics or morals. You see this
at once if you bear in mind two facts with which you are most
certainly acquainted in one form or another. You may have known
a man who was highly developed intellectually, he may have
possessed not only a clear intellectual grasp of natural
science, but he may also have understood many occult and
spiritual truths both theoretically and practically and yet you
may have known that such a person was not particularly moral.
Who has not seen people clever and highly intellectual, going
morally astray? And who has not also experienced the other
fact, from which much may be learned! You, doubtless have known
someone with a very restricted outlook, with limited intellect
and knowing but little, who being in service brought up not her
own but other people's children. From their earliest days she
has probably assisted with their education and development and
perhaps to the day of her death sacrificed to these children
all she had in a selfless loving way and with the utmost
devotion; yet if one had brought to her the moral principles
that one had gained from the highest sources of wisdom, she
would not, in all probability, have been particularly
interested; she would probably have found them useless and
incomprehensible. On the other hand her moral actions had
accomplished more than mere recognition of moral principles. In
such cases we feel that we must bow in reverence before that
which streams out of the heart into life and creates an
infinite amount of good.
Facts of such a nature often answer the riddles of life far
more clearly than theoretical explanations, for we say to
ourselves that a wise Providence, in order to impart to the
world moral actions, moral activities, has not waited until
people have discovered moral principles. There is in
fact, to begin with — if we disregard immoral actions,
the basis of which we shall get to know in these lectures
— something contained in the human soul as a divine
heritage, something given to us as original morality which may
be called “instinctive morality” and it is this
which makes it possible for humanity to wait until it can
fathom moral principles.
But
perhaps it is quite unnecessary to trouble much about
investigating moral principles! Might it not be said that it is
best if people trust to their original moral instincts and do
not perplex themselves with theoretical explanations about
morals? These lectures are to show that this is not the case.
They are to show that, at least in the present epoch of
humanity, we must seek for anthroposophical morals and that
these morals must be exercised as a duty which comes as the
fruit of all our anthroposophical science and
practice.
The
philosopher, Schopenhauer, in spite of much that is entirely
erroneous in his philosophy, made this very true statement
regarding the principles of morality. “To preach morals
is easy, but to give them a foundation is difficult.”
This statement is very true, for there is scarcely anything
easier than to pronounce in a manner appealing to the
commonest principles of human feeling and perception,
what a person ought to do or leave undone in order that he may
be a good man. Many people no doubt are offended when it is
asserted that this is easy, but it is easy, and one who knows
life, and knows the world, will not doubt that scarcely
anything has been spoken about so much as the right
principles of ethical action, and the man who speaks upon
general ethical principles meets with almost universal
approval. One might say it pleases listening minds, for they
feel they can agree in an unqualified manner with what the
speaker says when he discourses on the very commonest
principles of human morality.
Notwithstanding this, morals are certainly not established by
ethical teachings or moral sermons. Truly not. If morals could
thus be founded there would be no immorality at the present
day, for one might say that the whole of humanity would be
overflowing with moral activities. For undoubtedly everyone has
the opportunity of hearing the finest moral principles, since
people are so fond of preaching them. But to know what
one ought to do and what is morally right is of least
importance compared with the fact that there should be within
us impulses which, through their inward strength, their inward
power, are themselves converted into moral actions, and thus
express themselves externally. It is well known that ethical
sermons do not produce this result. A moral foundation is laid
when a man is guided to the source whence he must draw the
impulses which shall supply him with forces leading to ethical
activity.
How
difficult these forces are to find, is shown by the simple fact
that innumerable attempts have been made, for example, from the
philosophic side, to found a system of ethics, a code of
morals. How many different answers exist in the world to the
questions: “What is goodness?” -- “What is
virtue?” Put together what the philosophers have said,
beginning with Plato and Aristotle, and passing on through the
Epicureans, the Stoics, the NeoPlatonists, the whole
series down to modern philosophical opinions; put
together all that has been said from Plato to Herbert Spencer
upon the nature of Goodness and Virtue and you will see how
many different attempts have been made to penetrate to the
sources of moral life and impulse.
I
hope in these lectures to show that it is only by delving into
the occult secrets of life that it becomes possible, to
penetrate not only to moral teachings, but to moral impulses,
to the moral sources of life itself.
A
single glance will show us that this moral principle in the
world is by no means such a simple matter as might be supposed
from a certain convenient standpoint. Let us for the
moment take no notice of what is usually spoken of as
“moral,” but consider certain spheres of human life
from which we may perhaps be able to obtain a great deal
towards a moral conception of life.
Not
the least among the many things learned from spiritual science
is the knowledge that most manifold conceptions and impulses
have held good among various peoples in different parts of the
earth. In comparing two sections of humanity which at first
seem separated, one can consider the sacred life of ancient
India, and observe how it has gradually developed up to the
present day. One knows that what was characteristic of the
India of primeval times is still true at the present day. The
feelings, the thoughts and conceptions have been
maintained that we find in this region in ancient times. It is
remarkable that in these civilisations there has been preserved
an image of primeval times, and when we consider what has been
maintained up to our own day we are looking, so to say, at the
same time into the remote past.
Now
we do not progress very far in our understanding of the
different peoples on earth if we begin by only applying our own
moral standards. For this reason let us for the moment exclude
what might be said about the moral things of those times and
only inquire: What has developed from these characteristics of
venerable ancient Indian civilisation?
We
find, to begin with, that what was most highly honoured and
held sacred may be described as “devotion to the
spiritual”. This devotion to the spiritual was the more
highly valued and counted sacred, the more the human being was
able to sink into himself, to live quietly within himself, and,
apart from all that man can attain on the physical plane
— to direct the best in him to the spiritual worlds. We
find this cultivation, this dedication of the soul to the
foundations of existence as the highest duty of those who
belonged or belong to the highest caste of Indian life, the
Brahmins.
Nothing impresses the moral feelings of the Indian people more
than this turning to the Divine-Spiritual with a devotion which
forgets everything physical; an intensely deep introspection
and renunciation of self. The moral life of this people
is permeated by a devotion which controls every thought and
action. This is apparent from the fact that those who belonged
to other castes looked upon it as natural, especially in
ancient times, that the caste of religious life and devotion
and the life of ritual should be considered as something apart
and worthy of reverence. That which underlies this cannot be
understood by means of the common principles of morality laid
down by philosophy, for at the period when these feelings and
impulses developed in ancient India they were impossible among
other peoples. In order that these tendencies could develop
with such intensity both the temperament and fundamental
character of the Indian people were required. As civilisation
proceeded, emanating from India they spread abroad over the
rest of the earth. If we wish to understand what is meant by
the Divine-Spiritual we must go to this original source.
Let
us now turn our attention away from this people and direct it
towards Europe. Let us consider the peoples of Europe before
Christianity had affected European culture very much, when it
had only begun to spread in the West. You all know that
Christianity spreading into Europe from the East and South was
confronted by the peoples of Europe, who possessed certain
tendencies, a definite inner worth and definite forces. One who
studies with spiritual means the history of the introduction of
Christianity into Central Europe and also here in the North,
knows at what cost the balance was struck between this or that
Christian impulse and what was brought to meet it from Northern
and Central Europe.
And
now let us inquire — as we have already done in the case
of the Indian people — “What were the most
characteristic moral forces brought to Christianity as a moral
possession, a moral heritage, by the peoples whose successors
form the present European population, especially the population
of the North, Central Europe and England?” We need only
mention a single one of the principal virtues, and we know at
once that we are expressing something which is truly
characteristic of these Northern and Mid-European peoples.
— With the word “valour,” or
“bravery,” we have named the chief virtue brought
by the Europeans to Christianity; and the whole of the
personal human force was exercised in order to actualise in the
physical world what the human being intends from his innermost
impulse. Intrinsically the further we go back to ancient times
the more we find this to be the case — the other virtues
are consequent upon this.
If
we examine real valour in its fundamental quality, we find that
it consists of an inner fullness of life which is practically
inexhaustible, and this fullness of life was the most salient
characteristic among the ancient peoples of Europe. Ancient
Europeans possessed within them more valour than they could use
for themselves. Quite instinctively, they followed the impulse
to spend that of which they had a superabundance. One might
even say that they were wasteful in pouring out their moral
wealth, their fitness, and ability into the physical world. It
was really as if among the ancient people of Northern Europe
each one had brought with him a superfluity of force which was
more than he needed for his own personal use; this he was
therefore able to pour forth in an excess of prodigality and to
use it for his warlike deeds. Modern ideas now consider these
self-same warlike deeds, which were the outcome of ancient
virtue, to be a relic of the past, and in fact they are classed
as vices; but the man of ancient Europe used them in a
chivalrous, magnanimous manner. Generous actions were
characteristic of the peoples of ancient Europe, just as
actions springing from devotion were characteristic of
the people of ancient India.
Principles, theoretical moral axioms, would have been useless
to the peoples of ancient Europe, for they would have evinced
little understanding for them. Preaching moral sermons to a man
of ancient Europe would have been like giving one who does not
like reckoning, the advice that he ought to write down his
receipts and expenditures with great accuracy. If he does not
like this, the simple fact remains that he need not keep
accounts, for he possesses enough for his expenditure, and can
do without careful book-keeping if he has an inexhaustible
supply. This circumstance is not unimportant. Theoretically it
holds good with regard to what the human being considers of
value in life, regarding personal energy and ability, and it
also applies to the moral feelings of the inhabitants of
ancient Europe. Each one had brought with him a divine legacy,
as it were; he felt himself to be full of it, and spent it in
the service of his family, his clan or his people. That was
their mode of active trading and working.
We
have now characterised two great sections of humanity which,
were quite different from one another, for the feeling of
contemplation natural to the Indians did not exist among
Europeans. For, this reason it was difficult for Christianity
to bring a feeling of devotion to the latter people, for their
character and predispositions were entirely different. And now
after considering these things — putting aside all the
objections which might be raised from the standpoint of a moral
concept — let us enquire into the moral effect. It does
not require much reflection to know that this moral effect was
extremely great when these two ways of looking at the world,
these two trends of feeling met in their purest form. The world
has gained infinitely much by that which could only be obtained
through the existence of a people like the ancient Indians,
among whom all feeling was directed to devotion to the Highest.
Infinitely much it has also gained from the valiant deeds, of
the European peoples of early pre-Christian times. Both these
qualities had to co-operate, and together they yielded a
certain moral effect. We shall see how the effect of the
ancient Indian virtue as well as that of the ancient Germanic
peoples can still be found to-day; how it has benefited not
only a part but the whole of humanity, and we shall see how it
still exists in all that men look up to as the highest.
So
without further discussion, we may assert that something which
produces this moral effect for humanity is good. Doubtless, in
both streams of civilisation it must be so. But if, we were to
ask: what is “goodness”? we are confronted once
more by a puzzling question. What is the “good”
which has been active in each of these cases? I do not wish to
give you moral sermons, for this I do not consider my task. It
is much more my task to bring before you the facts which lead
us to an anthroposophical morality. For this reason I
have thus far brought before you two systems of known facts,
concerning which I ask nothing except that you should note that
the fact of devotion and the fact of bravery produce definite
moral effects in the evolution of humanity.
Let
us now turn our attention to other ages. If you look at the
life of the present day with its moral impulses you will
naturally say: “We cannot practise to-day — at
least not in Europe — what the purest ideal of India
demands, for European civilisation cannot be carried on
with Indian devotionalism”; but just as 1ittle would it
be possible to attain to our present civilisation, with the
ancient praiseworthy valour of the people of Europe. It at once
becomes evident that deep in the innermost part of the ethical,
feelings of the European peoples there is something else. We
must therefore search out that something more in order to be
able to answer the question: What is goodness? What is
virtue?
I
have often pointed out that we have to distinguish
between the period we call the Graeco-Latin or fourth
post-Atlantean age of civilisation and the one we call the
fifth, in which we live at the present time. What I have now to
say regarding the nature of morality is really intended to
characterise the origin of the fifth post-Atlantean age. Let us
begin with something which, as it is taken from poetry
and legend you may consider open to dispute; but still it is
significant of the way in which fresh moral impulses became
active and how they flowed into mankind when the development of
the fifth age gradually set in.
There was a poet who lived at the end of the 12th century and
beginning of 13th century. He died in the year 1213, and was
called Hartmann von Aue. He wrote his most important poem,
entitled “Poor Henry,” in accordance with the way
of thinking and feeling prevalent in his day. This poem
particularly addresses what was thought about certain moral
impulses among certain peoples in certain circles. Its
substance is as follows: — Poor Henry once lived as a
rich knight — for originally he was not poor Henry but a
duly installed knight — who did not take into account
that the things of the physical world decay and are temporary;
he lived only for the day and thereby rapidly produced bad
karma. He was thus stricken with a form of leprosy; he went to
the most celebrated physicians in the world but none of them
could help him, so considering his life at an end he sold all
his worldly possessions; His disease preventing intercourse
with his fellows he lived apart on a solitary farm, well taken
care of by an old devoted servant and daughter. One day the
daughter and the whole household heard that one thing alone
could help the knight who had this destiny. No physician, no
medicines could help him, only when a pure virgin out of pure
love sacrificed her life for him would his health be restored.
In spite of all the exhortations of her parents and of the
knight Henry himself, something came over the daughter which
made her feel that it was imperative she should sacrifice
herself. She went with the knight to Salerno, the most
celebrated school of medicine of the day. She did not fear what
the physicians required of her; she was ready to sacrifice her
life. But at the last moment the knight refused to allow it, he
prevented it and returned home with her. The poem then tells us
that when the knight returned home, he actually began. to
recover and that he lived for a long time and spent a happy old
age with the one who had determined to save him.
Well, to begin with, you may say that this is a poem, and we
need not take literally the things here spoken of. But the
matter becomes different when we compare what Hartmann von Aue,
the poet of the Middle Ages, wrote at that time in his Poor
Henry" with something that really happened, as is well known.
We may compare what Hartmann wrote with the life of Francis of
Assisi, who was born in the year 1182 and lived in Italy.
In
order to describe, the moral nature contained in the
personality of Francis of Assisi, let us consider the
matter as it appears to the spiritual investigator or
occultist, even though we may be looked upon as foolish and
superstitious. These things must be taken seriously, because at
that period of transition they were producing such momentous
effects.
We
know that Francis of Assisi was the son of the Italian merchant
Bernardone, and his wife. Bernardone travelled a great deal in
France, where he carried on his business. We also know that the
father of Francis of Assisi was a man who set great store on
outer appearances. His mother was a woman possessing the virtue
of piety, having fine qualities of heart, and living devoutly
according to her religious feelings. Now the things recounted
in the form of legends about the birth and life of Francis of
Assisi are entirely in agreement with occult facts. Although
occult facts are frequently hidden by history in pictures and
legends, these legends still correspond with them. Thus it is
quite true that before the birth of Francis of Assisi quite a
number of persons knew through revelation that an important
personality was about to be born. Historical records show that
one of the many people who dreamt — that is, who saw in
prophetic vision — that an important personality was
about to be born, was Saint Hildegarde. At this point I must
emphasise once more the truth of these facts, which can be
corroborated by investigations into the Akashic Record. She
dreamt that there appeared to her a woman whose face was
smeared and covered with blood, and this woman said to her:
“The birds have their nests here upon earth, the foxes
too have their holes, but at the present time I have nothing,
not even a stick upon which I can lean.” When Hildegarde
awakened from this dream, she knew this personality represented
the true form of Christianity. And many other persons
dreamt in a similar manner. From the knowledge at their
disposal they saw that the outer order and institution of the
church was unfitted to be a receptacle, a covering, for the
true Christianity.
One
day, while Francis of Assisi's father was on business in France
— this, again, is a fact — a pilgrim went to Pica's
house, to the mother of Francis of Assisi, and said to her:
“The child you are expecting must not be brought into the
world in this house, where there is abundance; you must bring
him to birth in the stable, for he must lie upon straw and so
follow after his Master!” This was actually said to the
mother of Francis of Assisi; and it is not legend but truth
that as the father was in France on business the mother was
able to carry this out, so that the birth of Francis of Assisi
actually took place in a stable and upon straw.
Another thing is also true: Some time after the child was born
a remarkable man came into the little town, a man who had never
been seen in that neighbourhood before and was never seen there
again. He went through the streets again and again saying
“An important person has been born in this town.”
And those whose visionary life was still active also heard the
ringing of bells at the time of the birth of Francis of
Assisi.
Besides these few details a whole series of phenomena
might be adduced, but we shall content ourselves with the
above, which are only mentioned in order to show how
significantly everything was concentrated from the spiritual
world, regarding the advent of a single personality in that
age.
All
this becomes especially interesting when in addition we
consider something else. The mother had the peculiar impression
that the child ought to be called “John” and he was
therefore given this name. However, when the father returned
from France where he had done good business, he changed it and
gave his son the name of Francis, as he wished to commemorate
his successful journey. But originally the child was called
John.
Now
we need only draw attention to a few details from the life of
this, remarkable man, especially from his youth. What sort of a
person was Francis of Assisi as a youth? He was one who
conducted himself like a descendant of the old Germanic
knights, and this need not appear remarkable when we consider
how peoples had intermingled after the immigrations from the
North. Brave, warlike, filled with the ideal of winning honour
and fame with the weapons of war; it was this which existed as
a heritage, as a racial characteristic in the personality
of Francis of Assisi.
There appeared in him more externally, one might say, the
qualities which existed more as an inward quality of soul in
the ancient Germans, for Francis of Assisi was a
“spendthrift.” He squandered the possessions of his
father, who was at that time a rich man. He gave freely to all
his comrades and playfellows. No wonder that on all the
childish warlike expeditions he was chosen as leader by his
comrades, and that he was looked upon as a truly warlike boy,
for he was known as such throughout the whole town. Now there
were all sorts of quarrels between the youths of the towns of
Assisi and Perugia; he also took part in these and it came
about that on one occasion he and his comrades were taken
prisoners. He not only bore his captivity patiently and in a
knightly way, but he encouraged all the others to do the same
until a year later they were able to return home.
Afterwards, when in the service of chivalry, a necessary
expedition was going to be undertaken against Naples, he had a
vision in a dream. He saw a great palace and everywhere weapons
and shields. Up to the time of his dream he had only seen all
kinds of cloth in his father's house and place of business. So
he said to himself, this is a summons for me to become a
soldier, and he thereupon decided to join the expedition. On
the way there and still more distinctly after he had joined the
expedition, he had spiritual impressions. He heard something
like a voice which said “Go no further, you have wrongly
interpreted the dream picture which is very important to you.
Go back to Assisi and you shall there hear the right
interpretation!”
He
obeyed these words, went back to Assisi, and behold, he had
something like an inner dialogue with a being who spoke to him
spiritually and said, “Not in external service have you
to seek your knighthood. You are destined to transform all the
forces at your disposal into powers of the soul, into weapons
forged for your use. All the weapons you saw in the palace
signify the spiritual weapons of mercy, compassion and love.
The shields signify the reasoning powers which you have to
exercise to stand firmly in the trials of a life spent in deeds
of mercy, compassion and love.” Then followed a short
though dangerous illness, from which, however, he
recovered. After that he passed through something like a
retrospection of the whole of his life and in this he lived,
for several days. The young knight who in his boldest dreams
had only longed to become a great warrior was transformed into
a man who now most earnestly sought all the impulses of mercy,
compassion and love. All the forces he had thought of
using in the service of the physical world were transformed
into moral impulses of the inner life.
Here we see how a moral impulse evolves in a single
personality. It is important that we should study a great moral
impulse, for though the individual cannot always raise himself
to the greatest ethical heights, yet he can only learn of them
where he sees them most radically expressed and acting with the
greatest forcefulness. It is precisely by turning our attention
to the greatest and most characteristic manifestations of moral
impulses, and then by considering the lesser ones in their
light that we can attain to a correct view of moral impulses
active in life.
But
what happened next to Francis of Assisi? It is not necessary to
describe the disputes with his father when he became prodigal
in an entirely different manner. His father's home was well
known for its lavish hospitality and wastefulness —
for that reason his father could understand his son's
extravagance, but he could not understand him after the radical
change he had undergone, when he laid aside his best
clothes and even his necessities and gave them to those in
need. Nor could he understand his son's frame of mind, when he
said, “How remarkable it is that those through whom in
the West Christianity has received so much are so little
respected,” and then Francis of Assisi made a pilgrimage
to Rome and laid a large sum of money on the graves of the
Apostles Peter and Paul. These things his father did not
understand. I need not describe the discussions which then took
place; I need only point out that in them were concentrated all
the moral impulses of Francis of Assisi. These concentrated
impulses had then transformed his bravery into soul-forces,
they had developed in such a manner that in his meditations
they produced a special conception, and appeared to him as the
Cross and upon it the Saviour. Under these conditions he
felt an inner personal relationship to the Cross and the
Christ, and from this there came to him the forces through
which he could immeasurably increase the moral impulses which
now flowed through him.
He
found a remarkable use for that which now developed in him. At
that time the horrors of leprosy had invaded many parts of
Europe. The church had discovered a strange cure for these
lepers who were then so numerous. The priests would call the
lepers and say to them: “ You are stricken with this
disease in this life, but inasmuch as you are lost to this
life, you have been won for God, you are dedicated to
God.” And the lepers were then sent away to places far
removed from mankind, where, lonely and shunned, they had to
spend the remainder of their lives.
I
do not blame this kind of cure. They knew no better. But
Francis of Assisi knew a better one. I mention this, because
from actual experience it will lead us to moral sources. You
will see in our next lectures why we are now mentioning these
things. These moral impulses led Francis of Assisi to search
out lepers everywhere, and not to be afraid of going about
among them. And actually the leprosy which none of the remedial
agents at that time could cure, which made it necessary that
these people should be thrust out of human society, this
leprosy was healed in numberless cases by Francis of
Assisi, because he went to these people with the power which he
possessed through moral impulses, which made him fear nothing;
it rather gave him courage not only carefully to cleanse their
wounds, but to live with the lepers, to nurse them
conscientiously, yea, to kiss them and permeate them with
his love.
The
healing of Poor Henry by the daughter of his faithful servant,
is not merely a poetic story, it expresses what actually
occurred in a great number of cases at that time through the
historically well-known personality of Francis of Assisi.
Observe what really took place. In a human being, in Francis of
Assisi, there was a tremendous store of psychic life, in the
shape of something which we have found in the ancient peoples
of Europe as bravery and valour, which had been transformed
into soul and spirit, and afterwards acted psychically and
spiritually. Just as in ancient times that which had expressed
itself as courage and valour led to personal expenditure of
force, and manifested itself in Francis of Assisi in his
younger days as extravagance, so it now led him to become
prodigal of moral forces. He was full to overflowing with moral
force, and this actually passed over to those to whom he turned
his love.
Now
try to realise that this moral force is a reality, just as much
a reality as the air we breathe and without which we cannot
live. It is a reality which flooded the whole being of Francis
of Assisi, and streamed from him into all hearts to which he
dedicated himself, for Francis of Assisi was prodigal of
abundance of force which streamed forth from him, and this is
something which has streamed into and intermingled with the
whole of the mature life of Europe, which has changed into a
soul force, and thus worked, as it were, in the world of
external reality.
Try
to reflect upon these facts which at first may apparently have
nothing to do with the actual question of morality; try to
grasp what is contained in the devotion of the Indian and the
valour of the Norseman; reflect upon the healing effect of such
moral forces as were exercised by Francis of Assisi and then in
our next lecture we shall be able to speak about real, moral
impulses and we shall see that it is not merely words which
give rise to morality, but realities working in the soul.
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