Chapter III: Introduction (3)

If they unite their labour now with you
What shall become of me? My deeds will prove
Fruitless to those who would the spirit seek.

BENEDICTUS:

Then wilt thou change into thine other self:
Since now thou hast accomplished all thy work.

THEODOSIUS:

Henceforth thou wilt live on in sacrifice
If thou dost freely sacrifice thyself.

ROMANUS:

Thou wilt bear fruit on earth in human deeds
If I myself may tend the fruits for thee.

JOHANNES (speaking out of his meditation, as in the previous scene):

The brethren in the temple showed themselves
To my soul-sight, resembling in their form
Men whose appearance I already know.
Yet Benedictus seemed a spirit too.
He who stood on his left seemed like that man
Who through the feelings only would draw nigh
The spirit-realms. The third resembled him,
Who doth but recognize the powers of life
When they show forth through wheels and outward works.
The fourth I do not know. The wife who saw
The spirit's light after her husband's death,
I recognized in her own inmost being.
And Felix Balde came just as in life.

The curtain falls slowly.

SCENE 6

Scene the same as the Fourth.

(The Spirit of the Elements stands in the same place.)

FELICIA:

Thou calledst me. What wouldst thou hear of me?

SPIRIT:

Two men did I present unto the earth
Whose spirit-powers were fructified through thee.
They found their soul's awakening in thy words
When meditation dry had lamed them both.
Thy gifts to them make thee my debtor too.
Their spirit doth not of itself suffice
To render full repayment unto me
For all the service which I did for them.

FELICIA:

For many years one of these men did come
To our small cottage, that he might obtain
The strength that lent unto his words their fire.
Later he brought the other with him too;
And so they two consumed the fruits, whose worth
Was then unknown to me: but little good
Did I receive from them as recompense.
Their kind of knowledge to our son they gave,
With good intent indeed, but yet the child
Found nought therein but death unto his soul.
He grew to manhood steeped in all the light,
His father Felix, through the spirit-speech,
Taught him from fountains and from rocks and hills:
To this was joined all that had lived and grown
In my own soul from my first childhood's years;
And yet our son's clear spirit-sense was killed
By the deep gloom of sombre sciences.
Instead of some blithe happy child, there grew
A man of desert soul and empty heart.
And now forsooth thou dost demand of me
That I should pay what they do owe to thee!

SPIRIT:

It must be so, for thou at first didst serve
The earthly part in them; and so through me
The spirit bids thee now complete the work.

FELICIA:

'Tis not my wont to shrink from any debt;
But tell me first what detriment will grow
In mine own self from this love-service done?

SPIRIT:

What thou at first didst do for them on earth,
Robbed of his spirit-powers thine only son;
And what thou givest to their spirits now
Is lost henceforth to thee from thine own self;
Which lessening of the powers of life in thee
Will show as ugliness in thine own flesh.

FELICIA:

They robbed my child of all his spirit-power,
And in return I needs must wander forth
A monster in the sight of men, that fruits
May ripen for them, which work little good!

SPIRIT:

Yet thy work aids the welfare of mankind
And leads as well to thine own happiness.
Thy mother's beauty and thy child's own life
Will blossom for thee in a loftier way,
When one day in the souls and hearts of men,
New spirit-powers shall seed and fructify.

FELICIA:

What must I do?

SPIRIT:

Mankind thou hast inspired
Full often with thy words. Inspire then now
The spirits of the rocks: in this same hour
Thou must bring forth from out thy treasured store
Of fairy pictures some one tale to give
Those beings who do serve me in my work.

FELICIA:

So be it then:--A being once did live
Who flew from East to West, as runs the sun.
He flew o'er lands and seas, and from this height
He looked upon the doings of mankind.
He saw how men did one another love,
And, how in hatred they did persecute.
Yet naught could stay this being in his flight,
For love and hatred none the less bring forth
Full many thousand times the same results.
Yet o'er one house--there must the being stay;
For therein dwelt a tired and weary man,
Who pondered on the love of humankind,
And pondered also over human hate.
His contemplations had already graved
Deep furrows on his brow; his hair was white.
And, grieving o'er this man, the being lost
His sun-guide's leadership, and stayed with him
Within his room e'en when the sun went down.
And when the sun arose again, once more
The being joined the spirit of the sun;
And once again he saw mankind pass through
The cycle of the earth in love and hate.
But when he came, still following the sun,
A second time above that selfsame house,
His gaze did fall upon a man quite dead.

(Germanus, invisible behind the rock, speaks. As he speaks, he gradually drags his unwieldy size on to the stage; his feet like clogs are almost earth-bound.)

GERMANUS:

A man once lived, who went from East to West:
Whose eager thirst for knowledge lured him on
O'er land and sea; and with his wisdom's sight
He looked upon the doings of mankind.
He saw how men did one another love,
And, how in hatred they did persecute;
And at each turn of life the man did note
How blind was wisdom's eye to probe its depths.
For, though the world is ruled by love and hate,
Yet could he not combine them into law.
A thousand single cases wrote he down
Yet still he lacked the comprehending eye.
This dull, dry seeker after truth once met
Upon his path a being formed of light;
Who found existence fraught with heaviness
Since it must live in constant combat with
A darksome being formed of shadows black.
'Who art thou then?' the dry truth-seeker asked.
'Love,' said the one; the other answered, 'Hate.'
But these two beings' words fell on deaf ears;
The man heard not, but wandered blindly on
In his dry search for truth from East to West.

FELICIA:

And who art thou, who thus against my wish
Dost parody my words in his own way
Until they sound a very mockery?

GERMANUS:

Only a dwarf-like image of me lives
In man, and therein many things are thought,
That are but mockery of their own selves.
When I do show them in the actual size,
In which they do appear within my brain.

FELICIA:

And therefore dost thou also mock at me?

GERMANUS:

I must right often ply this trade of mine;
Yet mostly men do hear me not, so now
I seized for once this opportunity
To speak as well where men can hear my words.

JOHANNES (out of his meditation):

This was the man, who of himself did say
That spirit-light grew of its own accord
Within his brain; and Dame Felicia came,
Just like her husband, as she is in life.

Curtain

SCENE 7

The domain of spirit: a scene of various coloured crystal rocks and a few trees. Maria, Philia, Astrid, Luna; the child; Johannes, first at a distance, then coming nearer; Theodora; lastly Benedictus.

MARIA:

Ye sisters, who so often proved of old
My helpers, help me also in this hour;
That I may cause to vibrate in itself
The ether of the worlds. Let it resound
In harmony, and thus resounding reach
And permeate a soul with knowledge true.
Signs can I see which guide us to our work;
For your work must unite itself with mine.
Johannes, he who strives, by our designs
To real existence shall be lifted up.
The brethren in the temple counsel took
How they should guide him to the heights of light
Out of the depths, and they expect of us
To fill his soul with power for such high flight.
Thou shalt absorb for me, my Philia,
The light's clear essence from the breadths of space;
And fill thyself with all the charm of sound,
Which wells from out the soul's creative power;
That thou mayst then impart to me the gifts
Which thou dost gather from the spirit's depths.
Then can I weave their perfect harmonies
In the soul-stirring rhythmic dance of spheres.
Thou, Astrid, too, loved mirror of my soul,
Thou shalt produce within the flowing light,
The power of shade that colours may shine forth;
Thou shalt give shape to formless harmonies,
That as world-substance weaveth to and fro
It may sound forth upon its living way.
So am I able to entrust to man,
When he doth seek, a spirit-consciousness.
And thou, strong Luna, firm in thine own self,
E'en like the living marrow, which doth grow
Within the centre of the tree, do thou
Unite unto thy sisters' gifts thine own;
Impress thereon thy personality,
That he who seeks may wisdom's surety find.

PHILIA:

With clearest essence of the light will I
From world-wide breadths of space myself imbue;
From distant ether-bounds will I breathe deep
Living sound-substance that such things may cause
Thy work, beloved sister, to succeed.

ASTRID:

I will weave through the beaming web of light
Subduing darkness, and I will condense
The living sounds, that, sounding, they may glow,
And glowing, sound; that thou mayst thus direct,
Beloved sister, soul-life's radiant beam.

LUNA:

Soul-substance will I warm; and will make hard
The living ether; that they may condense,
And feel themselves as living entities
With active power to fashion their own life;
That thou, beloved sister, mayst create
True wisdom's surety in man's seeking soul.

MARIA:

From Philia's realm shall stream forth conscious joy;
And water nymphs with their transforming power
Shall then unfold receptiveness of soul;
That the awakened one may undergo
And live the mirth and sorrow of the world.
From Astrid's web shall grow the joy of love;
And sylphs, that live in air, shall then incite
The soul's desire to willing sacrifice;
That thus the consecrated one may give
New life to sorrow-laden souls of men,
And comfort those who crave for happiness.
From Luna's power shall stream forth solid strength;
And salamanders with their fiery breath
Shall then create security of soul;
That he who knows may find himself again
In weaving soul-streams and the life of worlds.

PHILIA:

I shall implore the spirits of the world
That their own being's light may so enchant
The senses of the soul; and their words' sound
So fill with happiness the spirit ears;
That he, whose wakening nears, may thus ascend
The path of souls unto celestial heights.

ASTRID:

The streams of love, which warm the worlds, will I
Direct unto his consecrated heart;
That he may bring into his work on earth
The grace of heaven, and create desire
For consecration in the hearts of men.

LUNA:

From earth's primeval powers will I implore
Courage and strength, that may lay them deep
Within the seeker's heart; that confidence
In his own Self may guide him through his life.
Then shall he feel secure in his own soul
And pluck each moment's ripened fruit, and draw
The seeds therefrom to found eternities.

MARIA:

With you, my sisters, joined in noble work
I shall succeed in what I long to do.
But hark! There rises to our world of light
The cry of him who hath been sorely tried.

(Johannes appears.)

JOHANNES:

'Tis thou, Maria! Then my suffering
Hath at the last born richest fruit for me.
It hath withdrawn me from the phantom shape
Which I at first did make out of myself,
And which then held me fast, a prisoner.
Pain do I thank for thus enabling me
To reach thee o'er the pathways of the soul.

MARIA:

And what then was the path that led thee here?

JOHANNES:

I felt myself from bonds of sense released:
My sight was freed from that close barrier,
Which hid all but the present from mine eyes.
Quite otherwise I viewed the life of one
I knew on earth, and looked beyond the space
Bound by the present moment's narrow ring.
Capesius, who in his older years
Hath but employed the sight of sense--this man
The spirit placed before my soul a youth,
As first he entered on life's thorny path
Full of those dreams of hope, which ofttimes brought
A group of faithful hearers to his feet.
And Strader, also could I see e'en thus
As he appeared in earthly life when young,
E'er he had full outgrown his cloistered youth:
And I could see what he might once have been,
If he had followed out in that same way
The goal he set before himself of old.
And only those who in their earthly life
Are filled already with the spirit's power
Appear unchanged within the spirit-realms.
Both Dame Felicia and good Felix too
Had kept the forms in which they lived on earth,
When I beheld them with my spirit's sight.
And then my guides showed kindness unto me,
And spake of gifts which shall one day be mine
When I can reach to wisdom's lofty heights.
And many things besides have I beheld
With spirit-organs which sense-sight at first
Had shown to me in its own narrow way.
For judgment's all-illuminating light
Irradiated this new world of mine.
But whether I lived in some shadowy dream,
Or whether spirit-truth surrounded me
Already, I could not as yet decide.
Whether my spirit-sight was really stirred
By other things, or whether mine own self
Expanded into some world of its own,
I knew not. Then didst thou appear thyself;
Not as thou seemest at the present time,
Nor as the past beheld thee; nay--I saw
Thee as thou art in spirit evermore.
Not human was thy nature: in thy soul
Clear could I recognize the spirit-light,
Which worked not as man clothed in flesh doth work.
As spirit did it act, that strives to do
Such work as in eternity hath root.
And only now, when I dare stand complete
In spirit nigh thee, doth the full light glow.
In thee my sight of sense already grasped
Reality so fast, that certainty
Doth meet me even here in spirit-realms;
And well I know that now before me stands
No phantom shape. 'Tis thy true character
In which I met thee yonder, and in which
'Tis now permitted me to meet thee here.

THEODORA:

I feel compelled to speak. A glow of light
From out thy brow, Maria, upward mounts.
This glow takes shape, and grows to human form.
It is a man with spirit deep imbued,
And other men do gather round his feet.
I gaze into dim times, long passed away
On that good man who rose from out thy head:
His eyes do shine with perfect peace of soul;
And deep true feeling glows in every line
And feature of his noble countenance.
A woman facing him mine eye doth see,
Who listens with devotion to the words
Proceeding from his mouth; which words I hear,
And thus they sound: 'Ye have unto your gods
Looked up with awed devotion until now.
These gods I love, as ye love them yourselves.
They did present unto your thought its power,
And planted courage in your heart; but yet
Their gifts spring from a higher spirit still.'
I see how rage doth spread amongst the throng
At this man's words. I hear their mad wild cries:
'Kill him; for he desires to take from us
The gifts the gods have given to our race.'
But unconcernedly the man speaks on.
He tells now of that God in human form,
Who did descend to earth and conquer death.
He tells of Christ; and as his words flow on
The souls around grow calm and pacified.
One only of the heathen hearts resists,
And swears it will wreak vengeance on the man.
I recognize this heart; it beats again
In yonder child, that nestles at thy side.
The messenger of Christ speaks to it thus:
'Thy fate doth not permit thee to draw nigh
In this life; but I shall wait patiently,
For thy path leads thee to me in the end.'
The woman who doth stand before the man
Falls at his feet and feels herself transformed.
A soul prays to the God in human form;
A heart doth love God's messenger on earth.

(Johannes sinks upon his knees before Maria.)

MARIA:

Johannes, that which dawneth in thy mind
Thou shalt awaken to full consciousness.
E'en now within thee hath thy memory
Wrenched itself free from fetterings of sense.
Thou hast found me, and thou hast felt myself,
As we were joined in former life on earth.
Thou wast the woman whom the seeress saw,
For so didst thou lie prostrate at my feet,
When I as messenger of Christ did come
Unto thy tribe in days long since gone by.
What in Hibernia's consecrated shrines
Was then entrusted to me by that God,
Who dwelt in human form, and did become
A conqueror o'er all the powers of death,
I had to bring to tribes, in whom still lived
A soul that brought a willing sacrifice,
To mighty Odin, and with sorrow thought
Upon the death of Balder, god of light.
The power, which from that message grew in thee,
Attracted thee to me from the first day
Thine eyes of sense beheld me in this life.
And since it strove so mightily in us,
And yet remained unrecognized by both,
It wove into our life those sufferings,
Which we o'ercame. Yet in that pain itself
There lay the power to guide us on our way
To spirit-realms, where we might recognize
And know in very truth each other's soul.
Intolerably did thy pain increase
Through all the men who thronged thee round about,
With whom by fate's decree thou art conjoined.
Hence was the revelation of their selves
Able so fiercely to convulse thine heart.
These men hath Karma gathered round thee now,
To wake in thee the power that once did urge
Thee on the path of life, which selfsame power
Hath thus far roused thee, that, from body freed,
Thou couldst ascend into the spirit-world.
Thou standest nearest to my soul, since thou
Hast kept through pain thy steadfast faith in me.
And therefore hath it fallen to my lot
That consecration to complete in thee,
To which thou owest this thy spirit-light.
The brethren, who within the temple serve,
Have wakened sight in thee; yet canst thou know
That what thou seest is very truth indeed,
Only when thou dost find in spirit-realms
A being, unto whom in worlds of sense
Thou wast united in thine inmost soul.
And that this being might thus meet thee here,
Before thee did the brethren send me out.
And this did prove the hardest of thy tests,
When I was summoned here to wait for thee.
Our leader, Benedictus, did I ask
To solve for me the riddle of my life,
That seemed to be so cruel and unkind;
And blessedness streamed from his every word,
Telling of his own mission and of mine.
He told me of the spirit I must serve
With all the power which I have found in me.
And at his words it seemed to me as though,
All in a moment clearest spirit-light
Streamed through and through my soul, and suffering
Was changed to joyous blessedness; one thought
Alone then filled my soul;--he gave me light,
Yea, light, that gave to me the power of sight;--
It was the will that lived within the thought
Wholly to give myself to spirit-life,
To make me ready for the sacrifice
Which would unto our leader draw me near.
This thought did generate the highest power:
It gave wings to my soul and wafted me
Into that realm where thou hast found me now.
In that same moment when I felt released
From my sense body, I was free to turn
My spirit's eye upon thee, and I saw
Not only thee, Johannes, standing there;
I saw the woman too, that followed me
In ancient times; and had bound close to mine
Her destiny. E'en thus was spirit-truth
Revealed to me in spirit-realms through thee,
Who in the world of sense already wast
Made one with me in inmost consciousness.
So did I gain this spirit-certainty
And was endowed to give it unto thee.
Sending a ray of highest, tenderest love
To Benedictus, I went on before;
And he hath given unto thee the power
To follow me into the spirit-spheres.

(Benedictus appears.)

BENEDICTUS:

Ye here have found yourselves in spirit-realms
And so it is permitted unto me
To stand once more beside you in these realms.
I could confer the power that urged you here,
But I could not conduct you here myself.
Thus read the law, which I must needs obey:--
Ye must through your own selves first gain the eye
Of spirit, which doth here make visible
My spirit to you. Ye have just begun
E'en now the path of spirit-pilgrimage.
Henceforth indeed upon the plane of sense
Endowed with novel powers shall ye both stand,
And with the spirit in your hearts unsealed
The cause of human progress shall ye serve,
For Fate itself hath so united you,
That ye together may unfold the powers
Which needs must serve divine creative work.
And as ye journey on the path of souls
Wisdom herself will teach you that the heights
May only be obtained by souls of men,
Who have gained spirit-certainty, when they
Unite in faith to do salvation's work.
My spirit-guidance hath united you
To realize each other: now do ye
Unite yourselves to do the spirit's work.
May powers that dwell within this realm confer
On you through these my lips this Word of strength:--
'The weaving essence of the light streams forth
From man to man to fill all worlds with truth.
The grace of love spreads warmth from soul to soul
To work out bliss eternal for all worlds.
And spirit-messengers come forth to wed
Man's works of love and grace to cosmic aims.
And when a man who dwells amongst mankind
Can wed these twain, there doth stream forth on earth
True spirit-light from his warm loving soul.'

Curtain

INTERLUDE

Scene: same as in the Prelude. The day after the play to which Estella, in the Prelude, invited her friend to accompany her.

SOPHIA: Forgive me, dear Estelle, for keeping you waiting. I had to attend to something for the children.

ESTELLA: Here I am back again with you already. I long for your sympathy, whenever anything stirs me deeply.

SOPHIA: Well, you know that I shall always sympathize most warmly with you in your interests.

ESTELLA: This play, of which I spoke to you, Outcasts from Body and from Soul touched me so deeply. Does it seem to you odd when I say that there were moments when all I had ever known of human sorrow stood before me? With highest artistic force the work not only gives the outer mischances, met with by so many people, but also points out with wonderful penetration the deepest agonies of the soul.

SOPHIA: One cannot, I fear, form a proper conception of a work of art by simply hearing of its contents. But I would like you to tell me what stirred you so.

ESTELLA: The construction of the play was admirable. The artist wished to show how a young painter loses all his creative desire, because he begins to doubt his love for a woman. She had endowed him with the power to develop his promising talents. Pure enthusiasm for his art had produced in her the most beautiful love of sacrifice. To her he owed the fullest development of his abilities in his chosen field. He blossomed, as it were, in the sunshine of his benefactress. Constant association with this woman developed his gratitude into passionate love. This caused him to neglect, more and more, a poor creature who was faithfully devoted to him, and who finally died of grief, because she had to confess to herself that she had lost the heart of the man she loved. When he heard of her death, the news did not seriously disturb him, for his heart belonged entirely to his benefactress. Yet he grew ever more and more certain that her noble feeling of friendship for him would never turn to passionate love. This conviction drove all creative joy from his soul, and his inner life grew constantly more desolate. In this condition of life the poor girl, whom he had forsaken, came again into his mind, and a wrecked life was all that resulted from a hopeful and promising man. Without prospect of a single ray of light he pined away. All this is portrayed with intense dramatic vividness.

SOPHIA: I can easily see how the play must have worked upon your feelings. As a girl you always suffered intensely at the destiny of such people, who had been driven to bitterness by heavy misfortunes in their life.

ESTELLA: My dear Sophy; you misunderstand me. I can easily distinguish between what is real and what is merely artistic. And criticism fails, I know, if one carries into it the feelings one had in life. What stirred me here so deeply was the really perfect representation of a deep problem of life. I was once again able to realize clearly how art can only mount to such heights, when it keeps close to the fulness of life. As soon as it departs therefrom, its works are untrue.

SOPHIA: I understand you perfectly when you speak like that. I have always admired the artists who could represent what you call the reality of life. And I believe a great many have that power,--especially nowadays. Nevertheless even the very highest attainments leave behind them in my soul a certain discomfort. For a long time I was unable to explain this to myself, but one day the light came that brought the answer.

ESTELLA: You mean to tell me, that your conception of the world has dispelled your appreciation of so-called realistic art?

SOPHIA: Dear Estelle, let us not speak of my conception of the world today. You know quite well, that the emotion you have just described was entirely familiar to me long before I knew anything at all about what you call my 'conception of the world.' And these feelings are not only aroused in me with reference to so-called realistic art: but other things also create a similar feeling in me. It grows especially marked when I become aware of what I might call, in a higher sense, the want of truth in certain works of art.

ESTELLA: There I really cannot follow you.

SOPHIA: A vivid grasp of real truth must needs create in the heart a sense of a certain poverty in works of art. For of course the greatest artist is always a novice compared with nature in her perfection. The most accomplished artist fails to give me what I can get from the revelation of a landscape or a human countenance.

ESTELLA: But that is in the nature of the case and cannot be altered.

SOPHIA: But it could be altered, if men would only become clear on one point. They could say that it is irrational for the soul to reproduce what higher powers have already set before us as the highest form of art. Yet these same powers have implanted in man a desire to continue to work upon creation in a certain sense, in order to give to the world what these powers have not yet placed before the senses. In all that man can create, the original powers of creation have left nature incomplete. Why should he reproduce her imperfections in an imperfect form, when he has the ability to change that imperfection into perfection? If you think of this assertion as changed into an elemental feeling you will understand why I feel a sense of distress towards much that you call art. This perception of an imperfect reproduction of some obvious truth must needs produce distress. On the other hand, the least perfect representation of what is concealed behind the outwardly observed phenomenon may prove a revelation.

ESTELLA: You are really talking of something that nowhere exists. No true artist really tries to give a bare reproduction of nature.

SOPHIA: That is just why so many works of art are imperfect; for the creative function leads of itself beyond nature, and the artist cannot know the appearance of what is outside his senses.

ESTELLA: I see no possibility of our coming to any understanding with one another on this point. It is indeed sad that, in these most important problems of the soul, my best friend follows views so different from my own. I hope our friendship may yet fall on better days.

SOPHIA: On such a point we shall surely be able to accept whatever life may bring us.

ESTELLA: Au revoir, dear Sophy.

SOPHIA: Good-bye, dear Estelle.

Curtain

SCENE 8

Same room as for Scene 1. Johannes at an easel, before which Capesius, Maria, and Strader are also seated.

JOHANNES:

I think those are the final touches now,
And feel that I may call my work complete.
Especial pleasure hath it given me
Thy nature to interpret through mine art.

CAPESIUS:

This picture is a marvel unto me
And its creator a still greater one.
For naught, which men like me have up till now
Considered possible, can be compared
With this change that hath taken place in thee.
One only can believe, when actual sight
Compels belief. We met three years ago;
And I was then allowed to count myself
A member of that small community,
In which thou didst attain thine excellence.
A man of sad demeanour wast thou then,
Witness each glance and aspect of thy face.
Once did I hear a lecture in thy group,
And at the end felt urged to add thereto
Words that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.
I spake in such a mood wherein one doth
Think almost always of oneself alone;
And none the less my gaze did ever rest
Upon that painter, whelmed 'neath sorrow's load,
Who sat and kept still silence, far apart.
Silent he pondered in a fashion strange,
And one might well believe that he heard not
A single word of all those spoken near.
The sorrow unto which he gave himself
Seemed of itself to have a separate life;
It seemed as though the man himself heard not,
But rather that his very grief had ears:
It is perhaps not inappropriate
To say he was by sorrow quite obsessed.
Soon after that day did we meet again,
And even then there was a change in thee;
For happiness did beam forth from thine eyes;
Within thy nature power did dwell again,
And noble fire did ring in all thy words.
Thou didst express a wish to me that day--
Which seemed to me most strange and curious--
To be my pupil didst thou then desire.
And of a truth thou hast throughout these years
With utmost diligence absorbed thyself
In all I had to say on world events.
And, as we grew more intimate, I then
Did know the riddle of thine artist life,
And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.
My thought in former days was ill-inclined
To soar to worlds beyond the life of sense--
Not that I doubted them--but yet it seemed
Presumptuous to draw near with eager mind.
But now I must admit that them hast changed
My point of view. I hear thee oft repeat
That thine artistic skill depends alone
Upon the gift to function consciously
In other worlds; and that thou canst implant
Naught in thy work but what thou hast first seen
In spirit worlds: indeed thy works do show
How spirit stands revealed in actual life.

STRADER:

Never so little have I understood
Thy speech; for surely in all artists' work
The living spirit is thus manifest.
How therefore doth thy friend, Thomasius,
Differ from other masters in his art?

CAPESIUS:

Ne'er have I doubted that the spirit shows
Itself in man, who none the less remains
Unconscious of its nature. He creates
Through this same spirit, but perceives it not.
Thomasius however doth create
In worlds of sense what he in spirit-realms
Can consciously behold; and many times
Hath he assured me, that, for men like him,
No other method of creation serves.

STRADER:

Thomasius is a marvel unto me,
And freely I admit this picture here
Hath first revealed to me in his true self
Capesius, whom I thought I knew full well.
In thought I knew him; but his work doth show
How little of him I had really known.

MARIA:

How comes it, doctor, that thou canst admire
The greatness of this work so much, and yet
Canst still deny the greatness of its source?

STRADER:

What hath my wonder at the artist's work
In common with my faith in spirit-sight?

MARIA:

One can indeed admire a work, e'en when
One hath no faith in that which is its source;
Yet in this case there would be naught to rouse
Our admiration, had this artist not
Trodden the path that led to spirit-life.

STRADER:

Yet still we must not say that whosoe'er
Doth to the spirit wholly give himself
Will consciously be guided by its power.
The spirit power creates in artists' souls,
E'en as it works within the trees and stones:
Yet is the tree not conscious of itself.
And only he, who sees it from without,
Can recognize the spirit's work therein.
So too each artist lives within his work
And not in spiritual experience.
But when mine eyes now on this picture fall,
I do forget all that allures to thought;
The very soul-force of my friend doth gleam
From out those eyes, and yet--they are but paint!
The seeker's thoughtfulness dwells on that brow;
And e'en his noble warmth of words doth stream
From all the colour-tones with which thy brush
Hath solved the mystery of portraiture.
Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!
And yet they are not; they seem visible
Only to vanish straightway from my sight.
The moulding too doth seem like colour's work;
And yet it tells of spirit intertwined
In every line, and many things besides,
That are not of itself.--Where then is that
Whereof it speaks? Not on the canvas there,
Where only spirit-barren colours lie.
Is it then in Capesius himself?
But why can I perceive it not in him?
Thomasius, thou hast so painted here
That what is painted doth destroy itself,
The moment that the eye would fathom it.
I cannot grasp whereto it urgeth me.
What must I grasp from it? What should I seek?
I fain would pierce this canvas through and through
To find what I must seek within its depths;
To find where I may grasp all that which streams
From this same picture into my soul's core.
I must attain it.--Oh--deluded fool!
It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,
A ghost I cannot see, nor have I power
Which doth enable me to focus it.
Thou dost paint ghostly things, Thomasius,
Ensnaring them by magic in your work.
They do allure us on to seek for them,
And yet they never let themselves be found.
Oh--how I find your pictures horrible!

CAPESIUS:

My friend, in this same moment hast thou lost
The thinker's peace of mind. Consider now,
If from this picture some ghost speaks to thee
Then I myself must surely ghostly be.

STRADER:

Forgive me, friend, 'twas weakness on my part.

CAPESIUS:

Ah, speak but good, not evil, of this hour!
For though thou seemed'st to have lost thyself,
Yet in reality thou wast upraised
Far, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,
Even as I myself full oft have felt.
At such times, howsoe'er one feels oneself
Strong-armoured at all points with logic's might,
One can but be convinced that one is seized
By some strange power that can have origin
Not in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.
Who hath endowed this picture with such power?
To me it seems the symbol in sense-life
Of soul-experiences gained thereby.
It hath taught me to recognize my soul,
As never heretofore seemed possible;
And most convincing this self-knowledge proved.
Thomasius did search me through and through:
For unto him was given power to pierce
Through sense-appearance unto spirit-self.
With his developed sight he penetrates
To spirit verity; and thus for me
Those ancient words of wisdom: 'Know thyself,'
In new light do appear. To know ourselves
E'en as we are, we must first find that power
Within ourselves, which, as true spirit, doth
Conceal itself from us in our own selves.

MARIA:

We must, to find ourselves, that power unfold
Which can pierce through into our very souls:
And truly do these words of wisdom speak--
Unfold thyself and thou shalt find thyself.

STRADER:

If we admit now, that Thomasius
Hath through th' unfolding of his spirit power,
Attained to knowledge of that entity,
That dwells, invisible, in each of us,
Then must we say that on each plane of life
Knowledge doth differ.

CAPESIUS:

So would I maintain.

STRADER:

If matters thus do stand, then is all thought
Nothing: all learning but illusory;
And every moment I must lose myself....
Oh, do leave me alone....

(Exit.)

CAPESIUS:

I'll go with him.

(Exit.)

MARIA:

Capesius is nearer far today
To spirit lore, than he himself doth think;
And Strader suffers deeply. What his soul
So hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.

JOHANNES:

The inner nature of these two did stand
Already then before my spirit's eye
When first I dared to tread the realm of souls.
As a young man I saw Capesius,
And Strader in the years he hath not reached
By some long span as yet. Capesius
Did show a youthful promise which conceals
Much that this life will not allow to come
To due fruition in the realms of sense.
I was attracted to his inner self:
In his soul's essence I could first behold
What is the essential kernel of a man;
And how a man's peculiarities
In earthly life do manifest themselves
As consequences of some former life.
I saw the struggles that he overcame,
Which in his other lives had origin,
And which have shaped his present mode of life.
I could not see his death-discarded selves
With my soul's vision, yet I did perceive
Within his nature that which could not rise
From his surroundings as they are today.
Thus in the picture I could reproduce,
What dwells within the basis of his soul.
My brush was guided by the powers, which he
Unfolded in his former lives on earth.
If thus I have revealed his inmost self,
My picture will have served the aim, which I
Did purpose for it in my thought: for as
A work of art I do not rate it high.

MARIA:

It will confirm its work within that soul
Which it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.

Curtain falls whilst Maria and Johannes are still in the room

SCENE 9

Same region as in Scene 2. From rocks and springs resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself.'

JOHANNES:

O man, feel thou thyself! For three long years
I have sought strength of soul, with courage winged,
Which doth give truth unto these words, whereby
A man may free himself to conquer first;
Then conquering himself may freedom find
Through these same words: 'O man, feel thou thyself.'

(From rocks and springs resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself.')

I note their presence in mine inmost soul,
Their whispered breathing thrills my spirit-ear;
And hid within themselves they bear the hope,
That they will grow and lead man's spirit up,
Out of his narrow self to world-wide space,
E'en as a giant oak mysteriously
Builds his proud body from an acorn small.
Spirit can cause to live in its own self
All weaving forms of water and of air,
And all that doth make hard the solid earth.
Man too can grasp whate'er hath ta'en firm hold
Of being, in the elements, in souls,
In time, in spirits and eternity.
The whole world's essence lies in one soul's core,
When such power in the spirit roots itself,
Which can give truth unto these selfsame words:
O man, experience and feel thyself--

(From rocks and springs resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself.')

I feel them sounding in my very soul,
Rousing themselves to grant me strength and power.
The light doth live in me; the brightness speaks
Around me; soul light germinates in me;
The brightness of all worlds creates in me:
O man, experience and feel thyself;

(From rocks and springs resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself.')

JOHANNES:

I find myself secure on every side,
Where'er these words of power do follow me.
They will give light in sense-life's darkened ways:
They will sustain me on the spirit-heights:
Soul-substance will they pour into my heart
Through all the æons of eternity.
I feel the essence of the worlds in me,
And I must find myself in all the worlds.
I gaze upon the nature of my soul,
Which mine own power hath vivified; I rest
Within myself; I look on rocks and springs;
They speak the native language of my soul.
I find myself again within that soul,
Into whose life I brought such bitter grief;
And out of her I call unto myself:
'Thou must find me again and ease my pain.'
The spirit-light will give to me the strength
To live this other self in its own self.
Oh hopeful words, ye stream forth strength to me
From all the worlds: O man, feel thou thyself.

(From rocks and springs resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself.')

JOHANNES:

Ye make me feel my feebleness, and yet
Ye place me near the highest aims of gods;
And blissfully I feel creative power
From these high aims in my weak, earthly form.
And out of mine own Self shall stand revealed
Those powers, whereof the germ lies hid in me.
And I will give myself unto the world
By living out mine own essential life;
Yea, all the might of these words will I feel,
Which sound within me softly at the first.
They shall become for me a quickening fire
In my soul-powers and on my spirit-paths.
I feel how now my very thought doth pierce
To deep-concealed foundations of the world;
And how it streams through them with radiant light.
E'en thus doth work the fructifying power
Of these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.

(From rocks and springs resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself!')

From heights of light a being shines on me,
And I feel wings to lift myself to him:
I too will free myself, like all those souls,
Who conquered self.

(From springs and rocks resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself.')

That being do I see
Whom I would fain be like in future times.
The spirit in me shall grow free, through thee
Sublime example, I will follow thee.

(Enter Maria)

JOHANNES:

The spirit-beings, who did take me up,
Have woken now the vision of my soul.
And as I gaze into the spirit worlds,
I feel in mine own self the quickening power
Of these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.

(From springs and rocks resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself!')

JOHANNES:

Thou here, my friend?

MARIA:

My soul did urge me here.
I saw thy star shining in fullest strength.

JOHANNES:

This strength can I experience in myself.

MARIA:

So closely are we one, that thy soul's life
Allows its light to shine forth in my soul.

JOHANNES:

Maria, then thou also art aware
Of what has just revealed itself to me.
Man's first conviction has just come to me,
And I have gained the certainty of self.
I feel that power to guide me everywhere
Lies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.

(From rocks and springs resounds: 'O man, feel thou thyself!')

Curtain

SCENE 10

A room for meditation as in Scene 3.

THEODOSIUS (in spirit-garb):

Now canst thou feel all worlds within thyself:
So now feel me as love-power of all worlds.
A nature, that is lighted up by me,
Feels its own being's power enhanced, whene'er
It gives itself to give another joy.
Thus do I work with true creative joy
To build the worlds. Without me none can live,
And naught without my strength can e'er exist.

JOHANNES:

So thou dost stand before my spirit's eye,
Joy-giver of all worlds. My spirit's strength
Doth feel creative joy, when I behold
Thee as the fruit of self-experience.
Within the temple to my spirit's eye
Once didst thou show thyself, yet at that time
I knew not whether dream or truth appeared.
But now the scales have fallen from mine eyes,
Which kept the spirit's light concealed from me:
I know now that thou really dost exist.
I will reveal thy nature in my deeds;
And they shall work salvation through thy power.
To Benedictus too I owe deep thanks:
Through wisdom hath he given me the strength
To turn my spirit's sight unto thy world.

THEODOSIUS:

Feel me in thy soul-depths, and bear my power
To all the worlds. Thus, serving Love's behests
Thou shalt experience true blessedness.

JOHANNES:

I feel thy presence through its warming light;
I feel creative power arise in me.

(Theodosius disappears.)

He hath departed: but he will return
And give me strength from out the springs of love.
His light can disappear but for awhile;
Then, in its own existence, it lives on.
I can resign myself unto my Self,
And feel Love's very self in mine own soul:
By Love uplifted I can feel my Self:
Love shall through me reveal himself to man.

(He grows uncertain, as is gradually made manifest by his gestures.)

Yet how shall I experience myself?
It seems some spirit-being draweth near.
Since I was counted worthy to receive
The spirit's sight, I feel it ever thus,
When evil powers desire to seize on me.
Yet, come what may, I have strength to resist;
For I can feel myself within my Self;
Which quickening words give strength invincible.
Yet now most strong resistance do I feel:
Well may it be the fiercest of all foes:
But let him come, for he will find me armed.

Thou foe of Good; 'tis surely thine own self!
For near me I can feel thy potent strength.
I know thou dost desire to rend in twain
Whate'er has wrenched itself from thy control.
But I shall strengthen in me that new strength,
Wherein thou canst have neither part nor lot.

(Benedictus appears.)

JOHANNES:

O Benedictus, fount of my new life!
It is not possible. It cannot be.
Nay, nay, it cannot be thyself. Thou art
Some vain illusion. Oh, revive in me
Ye good powers of my soul, and straightway crush
This phantom image, that would mock at me!

BENEDICTUS:

Ask of thy soul now, whether it can feel,
What through these years my nearness meant to it.
Through me the fruits of wisdom grew for thee;
And wisdom only now can lead thee on,
And fend from error in the spirit's realm.
So now experience me within thyself.
Yet wouldst thou go still further, thou must then
Enter that way, which to my temple leads.
And if my wisdom is to guide thee still
To loftier heights, it must flow from that spot
Where with my brethren close conjoined I work.
The strength of truth I gave to thee myself;
And if this kindles power from its own fire
Within thyself, then shalt thou find the way.

(Exit.)

JOHANNES:

Oh, he doth leave me. How shall I decide
Whether I have some phantom form dispelled,
Or if reality hath left me now?

Yet do I feel in me my strength renewed.
'Twas no illusion, but the man himself.
I will experience thee within myself,
O Benedictus, for thou gav'st me power,
Which, growing of itself within myself,
Taught me to sever error from the truth.
And yet to vain illusion I succumbed:
1 felt a shudd'ring fear at thine approach;
And could consider thee a fantasy,
When thou didst stand before my very eyes.

(Theodosius appears.)

THEODOSIUS:

From all illusion thou shalt free thyself,
When thou dost fill thyself with mine own strength:
To me could Benedictus lead thy steps,
But thine own wisdom now must be thy guide.
If thou dost only live what he hath put
Within thee, then thou canst not live thyself.
In freedom strive unto the heights of light;
And for this striving now receive my strength.

(Exit.)

JOHANNES:

How glorious these words of thine do sound!
I must now live them out within myself.
From all illusion they will set me free,
If they but fill my nature to the full.

Work on then further in my soul's deep core,
Ye words, sublime and grand! Ye surely must
Proceed from out the temple's shrine alone,
Since Benedictus' brother uttered you.
I feel already how ye mount within
Mine inmost being.

Soon shall ye resound
From out my very Self, that I may read
Your meaning rightly. Spirit, that doth dwell
Within me, forth from thy concealment come!
Now in thine own true nature show thyself!
I feel thy near approach: thou must appear.

(Lucifer and Ahriman appear.)

LUCIFER:

O man, know me. O man, feel thou thyself.
From spirit guidance hast thou freed thyself,
And into earth's free realms thou hast escaped.
Midst earth's confusion thou didst seek to prove
Thine own existence; and to find thyself
Was thy reward. So now use this reward.
In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.
In the wide realms on high a being strange
Thou shalt discover, who to human lot
Will fetter thee, and will oppress thee too.
A man, feel thou thyself: O man, know me.

AHRIMAN:

O man, know thou thyself: O man, feel me.
From spirit darkness hast thou now escaped;
And thou hast found again the light of earth.
So now from my sure ground draw strength and truth.
The solid earth do I make hard and fast:
Yet canst thou also lose that certainty.
Weak hesitation can e'en now destroy
The power of being, and thou canst misuse
The spirit-strength e'en in the heights of light.
Thou canst be rent in twain within thyself.
O man, feel me. O man, know thou thyself.

(Exit with Lucifer.)

JOHANNES:

What meaneth this? First Lucifer arose
From me, and Ahriman did follow him.
Doth now some new illusion haunt my soul,
Although I prayed so ardently for truth?
Hath Benedictus' brother roused in me
Only those powers, which in the souls of men
Do but create illusion and deceit?

(The following is a spirit voice coming from the heights.)

SPIRIT:

To founts of world primeval
Thy surging thoughts do mount.
What unto illusion urged,
What in error held thee fast,
Appeareth to thee now in spirit-light.
Through whose fulness seeing,
Mankind doth think in truth;
Through whose fulness striving,
Mankind doth live in Love.

Curtain

SCENE 11

The Temple of the Sun. Hidden site of the mysteries of the Hierophants.

Capesius and Strader appear as in Scene 4.

RETARDUS (to Capesius and Strader before him):

Ye have brought bitter grief to me, my friends.
The office which I did entrust to you
Ye have administered with ill success.
I call you now before my judgment seat.
To thee, Capesius, I did entrust
Full measure of the spirit, that ideas
Of mankind's upward striving might compose,
With graceful words, the content of thy speech,
Which should have worked convincingly on man.
Then thine activity I did direct
Into those gatherings of men, wherein
Thou didst Johannes and Maria meet.
Their tendency towards the spirit-sight
Thou shouldst have superseded by the power
Which thy words should have exercised on them.
Instead of that thou didst thyself give up
Unto the influence which flows from them.--
And to thee, Strader, did I show the way
That leads to scientific certainty.
Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroy
The magic power that comes from spirit-sight.
But yet thou lackedst feeling's certain touch.
The power of thought did slip away from thee,
When opportunity for conquest came.
My fate is close-entwinéd with your deeds,
Through you are these two seekers after truth
Now lost for evermore from my domain;
For to the brethren I must give their souls.

CAPESIUS:

Thy trusty messenger I could not be.
Thou gav'st me power to picture human life;
And I could well portray whate'er inspired
The souls of men at this time or at that:
But yet it was impossible for me
To gift my words, which painted but the past,
With power to fill and satisfy men's souls.

STRADER:

The weakness which must needs befall me too
Was but a true reflection of thine own.
Knowledge indeed thou couldst give to me:
But not the power to still that yearning voice,
Which strives for truth in every yearning heart.
Deep in mine inmost soul I none the less
Felt other powers continually arise.

RETARDUS: