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FOUR MYSTERY PLAYS
BY
RUDOLF STEINER
Translated and Edited with the Author's Permission
by H. Collison, M.A. Oxon., S. M. K. Gandell, M.A.
Oxon., and R. T. Gladstone, M.A. Cantab.
The Portal of Initiation
The Soul's Probation
The Guardian of the Threshold
The Soul's Awakening
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1920
INTRODUCTION
The four plays here produced in an English translation in two volumes,
are perhaps best described as Christian Mystery Plays. They are
intended to represent the experiences of the soul during initiation;
or, in other words, the psychic development of man up to the moment
when he is able to pierce the veil and see into the beyond. Through
this vision he is then able to discover his real self and carry
into effect the cryptic injunction graven on the old Greek temples
Gnôthi seauton, know thyself. At a later stage he comes to 'realize'
himself, and finally learns the true significance of the Second Advent
of our Lord. This process is known as the 'Rosicrucian' initiation--an
initiation specially adapted to modern days--the time and manner of
which depend on the individual nature and circumstances of each person.
The four plays form one continuous series, and the characters portrayed
are of quite an ordinary kind except that they take more than the
usual interest in spiritual matters, their first desire being so
to improve their own mental and moral state as to make them able to
benefit their fellows.
We find amongst them many types--the occult leader and the seeress who
explains the coming of Christ. We are shown the spiritual development
of an artist, a scientist, a philosopher, a historian, a mystic, and
a man of the world; and we hear too the scoffing cynicism of Germanus
and the materialistic views of Fox. We are led to realize how the
characters are connected on the physical as well as the spiritual
plane; and we learn also about the nature of elementals and the
twin forces of hindrance known as Lucifer and Ahriman; the former
of whom may be described as an embodiment of the spiritual impulse
to action, an impulse always necessary but often distorted to bring
about self-glorification rather than the ambition to do good; the
latter as an embodiment of an influence which seeks to materialize
everything, thus hindering true spiritual growth and freedom. These
two influences are given to man that he may gain free will by having
perfect liberty to guide them in the one direction or in the other.
With regard to the writing and production of the plays, Doctor
Steiner's habit is to write a play whilst the rehearsals are
actually in progress, finishing it a few days before the first public
performance, and the first play was written and acted in this manner
in August, 1910, the second in August, 1911, the third in August,
1912, and the fourth in August, 1913. It was not until then that the
complete key to the development of the characters was attainable. The
last play explains the progress of the other three, and, following
out the hint given in the second play by the account of the previous
incarnation in the Middle Ages, traces the characters right back to
their earlier incarnation in ancient Egypt.
The plays were performed in Munich every summer under the personal
direction of the author and were acted by men and women of several
nationalities--all students of his teaching. The audiences numbered
some two thousand and were composed entirely of his followers.
In 1913, owing to the difficulties and expense incurred each year
in securing an appropriate theatre, his supporters acquired a plot
of ground in Munich, and plans were designed for a theatre of their
own, but the Munich authorities after much prevarication and delay
finally prohibited its building, exhibiting in their treatment of
Rudolf Steiner the same illiberal spirit as they had shown at an
earlier date in the case of Richard Wagner.
Because of this, and because of the hostility which his writings
and lectures had aroused in other parts of Germany, Doctor Steiner
was led to set up his theatre in Switzerland at the little village of
Dornach--not far from Bâle. Here a theatre is being built in accordance
with his own designs and it is hoped that the plays will be performed
there regularly as soon as the edifice is complete.
In conclusion I should like to express my gratitude to my friends and
fellow students R. T. Gladstone, M.A., Cantab., and S. M. K. Gandell,
M.A., Oxon., for their most valuable help in the very difficult task
of translating the plays into English verse. Only a translator can
appreciate the difficulties involved in preserving both the sense
and rhythm of the original, and it is no exaggeration to say that
without their aid the production of these works in English would not
have been possible at the present time.
I should also like to take this occasion of thanking Doctor Steiner
himself for permitting me to attend the rehearsals and assist in the
performances of the plays. It was a great privilege and pleasure for
which I can never feel sufficiently grateful. And last, but not least,
I have to thank him for his ever kind and patient attention to all
my questions on the subject of these plays and of spiritual science
in general.
H. Collison.
New York, 1919.
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Portal of Initiation 1
The Soul's Probation 141
The Guardian of the Threshold 1
The Soul's Awakening 135
THE PORTAL OF INITIATION
The general public has never been admitted to the performance of
these plays. The English editor has, however, ventured to give some
indication of the costumes and scenery, though this can only be
sufficient to give a general idea. The following is a summary of
the scenes:
A Prelude
Scene 1: A debating room. Theodora's vision of the coming Christ.
Scene 2: Johannes' meditation among the mountains: 'Know thou thyself.'
Scene 3: Meditation chamber. Maria's separation.
Scene 4: The Spirit of the Elements. The Soul-world.
Scene 5: The subterranean rock temple. The consultation of the
hierophants.
Scene 6: Continuation of Scene 4. Felicia: her First Fable. Germanus.
Scene 7: The Spirit-world. Maria and her soul powers. Theodora's
vision of the past incarnation of Maria and Johannes. The scene ends
with Benedictus' great mystic utterance.
An Interlude
Scene 8: The portrait of Capesius by Johannes. Strader's bewilderment.
Scene 9: Johannes' second meditation among the mountains three years
later than Scene 2. 'Feel thou thyself.'
Scene 10: As in Scene 3. A trial for Johannes.
Scene 11: The Temple of the Sun. Destiny and debtors.
BEINGS AND PERSONS REPRESENTED
In the Prelude and Interlude:
Sophia.
Estella.
Two Children.
In the Mystery:
Johannes Thomasius.
Maria.
Benedictus.
Theodosius, whose prototype, as the Mystery proceeds, reveals
itself as that of the Spirit of Love.
Romanus, whose prototype, as the Mystery proceeds, reveals itself
as that of the Spirit of Action.
Germanus, whose prototype, as the Mystery proceeds, reveals itself
as that of the Earth-brain.
Helena, whose prototype, as the Mystery proceeds, reveals itself
as that of Lucifer.
Retardus, active only as a Spirit-influence.
Philia } Friends of Maria, whose prototypes, as the
Astrid } Mystery proceeds, reveal themselves as spirits
Luna } of Maria's soul-powers.
Professor Capesius.
Doctor Strader.
Felix Balde, who reveals himself as representative of the Spirit
of Nature.
Felicia Balde, his wife.
The Other Maria, whose prototype, as the Mystery proceeds,
reveals itself as the Soul of Love.
Theodora, a Seeress.
Ahriman and Lucifer, conceived as Soul-influences only.
The Spirit of the Elements, conceived as a Spirit-influence.
A Child, whose prototype, as the Mystery proceeds, reveals itself
as a young soul.
As is usual in English stage directions, right means right of the
stage, and not right of the audience as in the original German. So
too the left is left of the stage.
The music at the representation of each play was by Mr. Adolf Arenson.
Notes on the Costumes Worn: The costumes worn are those of every day,
except that the female characters, over their dress, wear bright
broad stoles of a colour to suit their character.
Benedictus is usually in a black riding suit, top boots, and a
black mantle.
Lucifer has golden hair, wears crimson robes, and stands upon the
right of Johannes. Lucifer appears as female.
Ahriman, the conventional Satan, wears yellow robes and stands upon
the left of Johannes.
In the fifth and eleventh scenes and when in spirit form or acting as
hierophant Benedictus wears a long white robe over which is a broad
golden stole with mystic emblems in red. He also wears a golden mitre
and carries a golden crosier.
On such occasion Theodosius is similarly robed except that the stole,
mitre, and crosier are silver and the emblems blue. Similarly the
stole, mitre, and crosier of Romanus are bronze and the emblems
green. Retardus' costume is a mixture of the above three.
Germanus wears long brownish robes and is made to appear like a giant
with heavy clogs, as if tied to earth. Scene 6.
Philia, Astrid, and Luna in the seventh and eleventh scenes and in
the other plays have conventional angel-forms; Astrid is always in
the centre of this group; Luna is on her right; Philia on her left.
Theodora wears white and has angel's wings in the seventh and eleventh
scenes.
The Other Maria is dressed like a spirit (except in Scene 1) but one
associated with rocks and precious stones.
THE PORTAL OF INITIATION
PRELUDE
Sophia's room. The colour scheme is a yellow red. Sophia, with her
two children, a boy and a girl; later, Estella.
CHILDREN (singing, whilst Sophia accompanies them on the piano):
The light of the sun is flooding
The breadths of space;
The song of the birds is filling
The heights of the air;
The blessing of plant-life unfoldeth
Elemental Beings of earth;
And human souls in reverent gratitude,
Rise up to the spirits of the world.
SOPHIA: Now, children, go to your room and think over the words we
have just practised.
(Sophia leads the children out.)
(Enter Estella.)
ESTELLA: How do you do, Sophy? I hope I'm not intruding?
SOPHIA: Oh no, Estelle. I am very glad to see you.
(Asks Estella to be seated and seats herself.)
ESTELLA: Have you good news from your husband?
SOPHIA: Very good. He writes to me saying that he is interested
in the Congress of Psychologists; though the manner in which they
treat many great questions there does not appeal to him. However,
as a student of souls, he is interested in just those methods of
spiritual shortsightedness which make it impossible for men to obtain
a clear view of essential mysteries.
ESTELLA: Does he not intend speaking on an important subject, himself?
SOPHIA: Yes, on a subject that seems important both to him and to
me. But the scientific views of those present at the Congress prevent
his expecting any results from his arguments.
ESTELLA: I really came in, dear Sophy, to ask whether you would come
with me this evening to a new play called Outcasts from Body and from
Soul. I should so like to hear it with you.
SOPHIA: I'm sorry, my dear Estelle, but tonight is the date set for
the performance of the play, which our society has been rehearsing
for a long time.
ESTELLA: Oh yes, I had forgotten. But it would have been such a
pleasure to have spent this evening with my old friend. I had set my
heart on having you beside me, and gazing with you into the hidden
depths of our present-day life.... I only hope that this world of
ideas, in which you move, and which is so strange to me, will not
finally destroy that bond of sympathy, which has united our hearts
since we were at school together.
SOPHIA: You have often said that before; and yet you have always had
to admit that our divergent opinions need not erect barriers between
those feelings which have existed between us in our companionship
from our youth upwards.
ESTELLA: True, I have said so. Yet it always arouses a sense of
bitterness in me, when, as the years roll on, I see how your affections
are estranged from those things in life that seem to me worth while.
SOPHIA: Still, we may be of much mutual help to one another if we
recognize and realize the various points of view which we reach
through our different inclinations.
ESTELLA: Yes! My reason tells me that you are right. And yet there
is something in me that rebels against your view of life.
SOPHIA: Why not candidly admit that what you require of me is the
renunciation of my inmost soul-life?
ESTELLA: But for one thing, I should admit even that. And that is, that
you always claim that your view is the more profound. I can readily
understand that people whose conceptions differ radically may still
meet in sympathy of feeling. But the nature of your ideas actually
forces upon you an inner assumption of a certain superiority. Others
can compare views and realize that they do indeed diverge towards
different standpoints, but they nevertheless stand related by an
equality of values. You, however, seem unable to do this. You regard
all other views as proceeding from a lower degree of human development.
SOPHIA: But you realize, I hope, from our previous discussions, that
those who think as I do, do not finally measure the character of man by
his opinions or by his knowledge. And while we consider our ideas such,
that without vital realization of them life has no valid foundations,
we nevertheless try most earnestly not to over-estimate the value of
the individual, who has been permitted to become an instrument for
the manifestation of this view of life.
ESTELLA: All that sounds very well, but it does not remove my one
suspicion. I cannot close my eyes to the fact, that a world-view
which ascribes to itself illimitable depth must needs lead by the
circuitous route of a mere appearance of such depth to a certain
superficiality. I rate our friendship too high to point out to you
those among your companions who, whilst they swear allegiance to your
ideas, yet display spiritual arrogance of the most unmitigated sort,
despite the fact that the barrenness and banality of their soul speaks
in their every word and in all their conduct. Nor do I wish to call
your attention to the callousness and lack of sympathy shown by so
many of your adherents towards their fellow men. The greatness of
your own soul has never permitted you to stand aloof from that which
daily life requires at the hands of the man whom we call good. And
yet the fact that you leave me alone on this occasion, when true and
artistic life comes to be voiced, shows me that your ideas too with
reference to this life are to a certain extent superficial--if you
will forgive my saying so.
SOPHIA: And wherein lies this superficiality?
ESTELLA: You ought to know. You have known me long enough to understand
how I have wrenched myself away from that manner of life, which,
day in and day out, only struggles to follow tradition and convention.
I have sought to understand why so many people suffer, as it seems,
undeservedly. I have tried to approach the heights and depths of
life. I have consulted the sciences, so far as I could, to learn what
they disclose.
But let me hold fast to the one point which this moment presents to
us. I am aware of the nature of true art; I believe I understand how it
seizes upon the essentials of life and presents to our souls the true
and higher reality. I seem to feel the beating of the pulse of time,
when I permit such art to influence me, and I am horrified when I have
to think what it is which you, Sophy, prefer to this interest in living
art. You turn to what seem to me the obsolete, dogmatically allegorical
themes, to gaze on a show of puppets, instead of on living beings,
and to wonder at symbolical happenings which stand far away from all
that appeals to our pity and to our active sympathies in daily life.
SOPHIA: My dear Estelle, that is exactly the fact that you will
not grasp--that the richest life is to be found just there where
you only see a fantastic web of thoughts: and that there may be,
and are, people who are compelled to call your living reality mere
poverty--if it be not measured by the spiritual source from whence it
comes. Possibly my words sound harsh to you. But our friendship demands
absolute frankness. Spirit itself is as unknown to you as it is to
the multitude. In its place you know only the bearer of knowledge. It
is only the thought side of spirit of which you are aware. You have
no conception of the living, the creative spirit, which endows men
with elemental power, even as the germinal power of nature shapes
living entities. Like many another, for instance, you call things in
art which deny the spirit, as I conceive it, naïve and original. Our
conception of the world unites a full and conscious freedom with the
power of naïve creation. We absorb consciously that which is naïve,
and do not thereby rob it of its freshness, its fulness, and its
originality. You believe that the character of man shapes itself,
and that we can merely form thoughts and considerations about it. You
will not see that thought itself actually merges into creative spirit;
reaching the very fountain of Being; and developing thence into an
actual creative germ.
Our ideas do not teach, any more than the seed-power within a plant
teaches it how to grow. It is the actual growth itself, and in like
manner do our ideas flow into our very being, kindling and dispensing
life. To the ideas that have come to me, I am indebted for all that
makes life worth while; not only for the courage, but also for the
insight and power that make me hopeful of so training my children,
that they shall not only be capable and useful in ordinary everyday
life, in the old traditional sense, but that they shall at the same
time carry inward peace and contentment within their souls. I have
no wish to stray from the point, but I will say just one thing. I
believe--nay I know--that the dreams which you share with so many
can only be realized when men succeed in uniting what they call the
realities of life with those deeper experiences, which you have
so often termed dreams and fantasies. You may be astonished if
I confess it to you: but much that seems true art to you is to me
a mere fruitless critique of life. No hunger is stilled, no tears
are dried, no source of degeneracy is discovered, when merely the
outer show of hunger, or tear-stained faces, or degenerate beings is
shown upon the stage. And the customary method of that presentation
is unspeakably distant from the true depths of life, and the true
relationship between beings.
ESTELLA: I understand your words indeed, but they merely show me
that you do prefer to indulge in fancies, rather than to look upon
the realities of life. Our ways, indeed, part.--I see that my friend
is denied me tonight. (Rises.) I must leave you now. But we remain
friends, as of old, do we not?
SOPHIA: We must indeed remain friends. (While these last words are
spoken, Sophia conducts her friend to the door.)
Curtain
SCENE 1
Room. Dominant note rose-red. Large rose-red chairs are arranged
in a semicircle. To the left of the stage a door leads to the
auditorium. One after the other, the speakers introduced enter by
this door; each stopping in the room for a time. While they do so,
they discuss the discourse they have just heard in the auditorium,
and what it suggests to them.
Enter first Maria and Johannes, then others. The speeches which follow
are continuations of discussions already begun in the auditorium.
MARIA:
My friend, I am indeed distressed to see
Thy spirit and thy soul in sadness droop,
And powerless to help the bond that binds
And that has bound us both for ten blest years.
E'en this same hour, filled with a portent deep
In which we both have heard and learned so much
That lightens all the darkest depths of soul,
Brought naught but shade and shadow unto thee.
Aye, after many of the speakers' words,
My listening heart could feel the very dart
That deeply wounded thine. Once did I gaze
Into thine eyes and saw but happiness
And joy in all the essence of the world.
In pictures beauty-steeped thy soul held fast
Each fleeting moment, bathed by sunshine's glow--
Flooding with air and light the forms of men
Unsealing all the depths and doubts of Life.
Unskilled as yet thine hand to body forth
In concrete colour-schemes, those living forms
That hovered in thy soul; but in the hearts
Of both of us there throbbed the joyous faith
And certain hope that future days would teach
Thine hand this art--to pour forth happiness
Into the very fundaments of Being;
That all the wonders of thy spirit's search
Unfolding visibly Creation's powers
Through every creature of thine art would pour
Soul rapture deep into the hearts of men.
Such were our dreams through all those days of yore
That to thy skill, mirrored in beauty's guise,
The weal of future men would trace its source.
So dreamed mine own soul of the goal of thine.
Yet now the vital spark of fashioning fire
That burned within thee seems extinct and dead.
Dead thy creative joy: and well-nigh maimed
The hand, which once with fresh and youthful strength
Guided thy steadfast brush from year to year.
JOHANNES:
Alas, 'tis true; I feel as if the fires
That erstwhile quickened in my soul are quenched.
Mine eye, grown dull, doth no more catch the gleam
Shed by the flickering sunlight o'er the earth.
No feeling stirs my heart, when changing moods
Of light and shade flow o'er the scenes around.
Still lies my hand, seeking no more to chain
Into a lasting present fleeting charms,
Shown forth by magic elemental powers
From utmost depths of Life before mine eyes.
No new creative fire thrills me with joy.
For me dull monotone obscures all life.
MARIA:
My heart is deeply grieved to hear that thou
Dost find such emptiness in everything
Which thrives as highest good and very source
Of sacred life itself within my heart.
Ah, friend, behind the changing scenes of life
That men call 'Being,' true life lies concealed
Spiritual, everlasting, infinite.
And in that life each soul doth weave its thread.
I feel afloat in spirit potencies,
That work, as in an ocean's unseen depths,
And see revealéd all the life of men,
As wavelets on the ocean's upturned face.
I am at one with all the sense of Life
For which men restless strive, and which to me
Is but their inner self that stands revealed.
I see, how oftentimes it binds itself
Unto the very kernel of man's soul,
And lifts him to the highest that his heart
Can ever crave. Yet as it lives in me
It turns to bitter fruitage, when mine own
Touches another's being. Even so
Hath this, my destiny, worked out in all
I willed to give thee, when thou cam'st in love.
Thy wish it was to travel at my side
Unhesitating all the way, that soon
Should lead thee to a full and perfect art.
Yet what hath happened? All, that in mine eyes
Stood forth revealed in its own naked Truth
As purest life, brought death, my friend, to thee
And slew thy spirit.
JOHANNES:
Aye. 'Tis so indeed.
What lifts thy soul to Heaven's sun-kissed heights
When through thy life it comes into mine own
Thrusts my soul down, to death's abysmal gloom.
When in our friendship's rosy-fingered dawn
To this revealment thou didst lead me on,
Which sheds its light into the darkened realms,
Where human souls do enter every night,
Bereft of conscious life, and where full oft
Man's being wanders erring: whilst the night
Of Death makes mock at Life's reality.
And when thou didst reveal to me the truth
Of life's return, then did I know full well
That I should grow to perfect spirit-man.
Surely, it seemed, the artist's clear keen eye,
And certain touch of a creator's hand,
Would blossom for me through thy spirit's fire
And noble might. Full deep I breathed this fire
Into my being; when--behold--it robbed
The ebb and flow of all my spirit's power.
Remorselessly it drove out from my heart
All faith in this our world. And now I reach
A point where I no longer clearly see,
Whether to doubt or whether to believe
The revelation of the spirit-worlds.
Nay more, I even lack the power to love
That which in thee the spirit's beauty shows.
MARIA:
Alas! The years that pass have taught me this:
That mine own way to live the spirit-life
Doth change into its opposite, whene'er
It penetrates another's character.
And I must also see how spirit-power
Grows rich in blessing when, by other paths,
It pours itself into the souls of men.
(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)
It floweth forth in speech, and in these words
Lies power to raise to realms celestial
Man's common mode of thinking; and create
A world of joy, where erstwhile brooded gloom.
Aye, it can change the spirit's shallowness
To depths of earnest feeling; and can cast
Man's character in sure and noble mould.
And I--yes, I am altogether filled
By just this spirit-power, and must behold
The pain and desolation that it brings
To other hearts, when from mine own it pours.
PHILIA:
It seemed as though the voices of some choir
(Enter Prof. Capesius and Dr. Strader.)
Mingled together, uttering manifold
Conceptions and opinions, each his own,
Of these who formed our recent gathering.
Full many harmonies there were indeed,
But also many a harsh-toned dissonance.
MARIA:
Ah, when the words and speech of many men
Present themselves in such wise to the soul,
It seems as though man's very prototype
Stood centred there in secret mystery:
Become through many souls articulate,
As in the rainbow's arch pure Light itself
Grows visible in many-coloured rays.
CAPESIUS:
Through changing scenes of many centuries
We wandered year on year in earnest search;
Striving to fathom deep the living force
That dwelt within the souls of those who sought
To probe and scan the fundaments of being,
And set before man's soul the goals of life.
We thought that in the depths of our own souls
We lived the higher powers of thought itself;
And thus could solve the riddles set by Fate.
We felt we had, or seemed at least to feel,
Sure basis in the logic of our mind
When new experiences crossed our path
Questioning there the judgment of our soul.
Yet now such basis wavers, when amazed
I hear today, as I have heard before,
The mode of thought taught by these people here.
And more and more uncertain do I grow,
When I perceive, how powerfully in life
This mode of thought doth work. Full many a day
Have I spent thus, thinking how I might shape
Time's riddles as they solved themselves to me
In words, that hearts might grasp and trembling feel.
Happy indeed was I, if I could fill
Only the smallest corner of some soul
Amongst my audience with the warmth of life.
And oftentimes it seemed success was mine,
Nor would I make complaint of fruitless days.
Yet all results of teaching thus could lead
Only to recognition of this truth
So loved and emphasized by men of deeds,
That in the clash of life's realities,
Thoughts are dim shadows, nothing more nor less:
They may indeed wing life's creative powers
To due fruition, but they cannot shape
And mould our life themselves. So have I judged
And with this modest comment was content:
Where pale thoughts only work, all life is lamed
And likewise all that joins itself to life.
More potent than the ripest form of words,
However art might weave therein her spell,
Seemed nature's gift, man's talents--and more strong
The hand of destiny to mould his life.
Tradition's mountainweight, and prejudice
With dull oppressive hand will always quench
The strength of e'en the very best of words.
But that which here reveals itself in speech
Gives men, who think as I do, food for thought.
Clearly we saw the kind of consequence
That comes when sects, in superheated speech,
Blind souls of men with dogma's seething stream.
But nought here of such spirit do we find;
Here only reason greets the soul, and yet
These words create the actual powers of life,
Speaking unto the spirit's inmost depths.
Nay even to the kingdom of the Will
This strange and mystic Something penetrates;
This Something, which to such as I, who still
Wander in ancient ways, seems but pale thought.
Impossible, it seems, to disavow
Its consequences; none the less, myself
I cannot quite surrender to it yet.
But it all speaks with such peculiar charm
And not as though it really meant for me
The contradiction of experience.
It almost seems as if this Something found
The kind of man I am, insufferable.
STRADER:
I would associate myself in fullest sense
With every one of thy last spoken words:
And still more sharply would I emphasize
That all results in our soul-life, which seem
To spring forth from the influence of ideas,
Cannot in any wise decide for us
What actual worth of knowledge they conceal.
Whether there lives within our mode of thought,
Error or truth--'tis certain this alone
The verdict of true science can decide.
And no one would with honesty deny
That words, which are, in seeming only, clear,
Yet claim to solve life's deepest mysteries,
Are quite unfit for such a scrutiny.
They fascinate the spirit of mankind,
And only tempt the heart's credulity;
Seeming to open door into that realm
Before which, humble and perplexed, now stands
The strict and cautious search of modern minds.
And he who truly follows such research
Is bound in honour to confess that none
Can know whence streams the well-spring of his thought,
Nor fathom where the depths of Being lie.
And though confession such as this is hard
For souls who all too willingly would gauge
What lies beyond the ken of mortal mind,
Yet every glance of every thinker's soul
Whether directed to the outer side,
Or turned towards the inner depths of life,
Scans but that boundary and naught beside.
If we deny our rational intellect
Or set aside experience, we sink
In depths unfathomable, bottomless.
And who can fail to see how utterly
What passeth here for revelation new,
Fails to fit in with modern modes of thought.
Indeed it needs but little thought to see,
How totally devoid this method is
Of that, which gives all thought its sure support
And guarantees a sense of certainty.
Such revelations may warm listening hearts,
But thinkers see in them mere mystic dreams.
PHILIA:
Aye, thus would always speak the science, won
By stern sobriety and intellect.
But that suffices not unto the soul,
That needs a steadfast faith in its own self.
She ever will give heed to words that speak
To her of spirit. All she dimly sensed
In former days, she striveth now to grasp.
To speak of the Unknown may well entice
The thinker, but no more the hearts of men.
STRADER:
I too can realize how much there lies
In that objection; how it seems to strike
The idle dreamer, who would only spin
The threads of thought, and seek the consequence
Of this or that premise, which he himself
Hath formed beforehand. Me--it touches not--
No outer motive guided me to thought.
In childhood I grew up 'mid pious folk
And, following their custom, steeped my soul
In sense-intoxicating images
Of future sojourn in celestial realms,
Wherewith they seek to comfort and beguile
Man's ignorance and man's simplicity.
Within my boyish soul I sensed the throb
Of utmost ecstasy, when reverently
I raised my thoughts to highest spirit-worlds;
And prayer was then my heart's necessity.
Thereafter in a cloister was I trained;
Monks were my teachers, and in mine own heart
The deepest longing was to be a monk,--
An echo of my parents' ardent wish.
For consecration did I stand prepared
When chance did drive me from the cloistered cell;
And to this chance I owe deep gratitude.
For, many days before chance saved my soul
It had been robbed of inward peace and quiet;
For I had read and learned of many things,
That have no place within the cloister-gate.
Knowledge of nature's working came to me
From books that were forbidden to mine eyes.
And thus I learned new scientific thought.
Hard was the struggle as I sought the path
Wandering through many a way to find mine own;
Nor did I ever gain by cunning thought
Whate'er of truth revealed itself to me.
In fierce-fought battles have I torn the roots
From out my spirit's soil of all that brought
Peace and contentment to me when a child.
I understand indeed the heart that fain
Would soar up to the heights--but for myself,
When once I recognized that all I learned
From spirit-teaching was an empty dream,
I was compelled to find the surer soil
That science and discovery create.
LUNA:
We may surmise, each after his own kind,
Where sense and goal of life doth lie for each.
I altogether lack the power to prove
According to the science of today,
What spirit-teaching I have here received:
But clear within my heart I feel and know
My soul would die without this spirit-lore,
As would my body, if deprived of blood.
And thou, dear doctor, 'gainst our cause dost fight
With many words, and what thou now hast told
Of thy life's conflict lends them weight indeed
Even with those who do not understand
Thy learned argument. Yet would I ask
(Enter Theodora.)
Exactly why it is that hearts of men
Receive the word of Spirit readily,
As though self-understood: yet when man seeks
Food for his spirit in such learned words
As thou didst use his heart grows chill and cold.
THEODORA:
Although I am at home 'mid just such men
As circle round me here, yet strangely sounds
This speech I have just heard.
CAPESIUS:
What strangeness there?
THEODORA:
I may not say. Do thou, Maria, tell.
MARIA:
Our friend has oftentimes explained to us
What strange experiences come to her.
One day she felt herself completely changed,
And none could understand her altered state.
Estrangement met her wheresoe'er she turned
Until she came into our circle here.
Not that we fully understand ourselves
What she possesses and what no one shares.
Yet we are trained by this our mode of thought
The unaccustomed to appreciate,
And feel with every mood of humankind.
One moment in her life, our friend perceived,
All that seemed hers aforetime, disappear;
The past was all extinguished in her soul.
And since these wondrous changes came to her,
This mood of soul hath oft renewed itself;
It doth not long endure; and other times
She lives her life as ordinary folk.
Yet whensoe'er she falls into this state,
The gift of memory doth fade away.
She loseth from her eyes the power to see
And senseth her surroundings, seeing not.
With a peculiar light her eyes then glow,
And pictured forms appear to her. At first
They seemed like dreams; anon they grew so clear,
That we could recognize without a doubt
Some prophecy of distant future days.
Full many a time have we seen this occur.
CAPESIUS:
It is just this that little pleaseth me
Amongst these men; who mingle with good sense
And logic, superstition's fallacies.
'Twas ever thus where men have walked this path.
MARIA:
If thou canst still speak so, thou dost not yet
Perceive our attitude towards these things.
STRADER:
Well, as for me, I freely must confess,
That I would sooner revelations hear
Than speak of questionable spirit-themes.
For even if I fail to read aright
The riddle of such dreams, yet those at least
I count as facts; and would 'twere possible
To see one instance of the mystery
Of this strange spirit-mood before mine eyes.
MARIA:
Perchance it is--for look, she comes again.
And it doth seem to me as though e'en now
This mystic spirit-mood would show itself.
THEODORA:
I am compelled to speak. Before my soul
A pictured form stands wrapped in robes of light;
From which strange words are sounding in mine ears.
I feel myself in future centuries,
And men do I behold as yet unborn:--
They also see the pictured form; they too
Can hear the words it speaks, which thus resound--
'O ye, who lived in faith's sincerity,
Take comfort now in sight, and look on Me.
Receive new life through Me. For I am He
Who lived within the souls of those who sought
To find Me in themselves, by following
The gospel-words My messengers did bring
And by their own devotion's inward power.
The light of sense ye saw--believe ye now
In the creative spirit-world beyond.
For now indeed ye have yourselves achieved
One atom of divine prophetic sight.
Oh, breathe it deep, and feel it in your souls.'
A human form steps from that sphere of light.
And speaks to me: 'Thou shalt make known to all
Who will give ear to thee, that thou hast seen
What all mankind shall soon experience:
Once, long ago, Christ lived upon the earth,
And from this life ensued the consequence
That in soul-substance clad He hovers o'er
The evolution of humanity,
In union with the earth's own spirit-sphere;
And though as yet invisible to men,
When in such form He manifests Himself,
Since now their being lacks that spirit sight,
Which first will show itself in future times;
Yet even now this future draweth nigh
When that new sight shall come to men on earth.
What once the senses saw, when Christ did live
Upon the earth; this shall be seen by souls
When soon the time shall reach its fulness due.'
(Exit.)
MARIA:
This is the first time we have heard her speak
In such a manner to so many folk.
At other times she felt constrained to speech,
Only when two or three were gathered round.
CAPESIUS:
To me indeed it seems most curious,
That she, as though commanded or required,
Should find herself to revelation urged.
MARIA:
It may so seem; but we know well her ways.
If at this moment she desired to send
Her inward soul-voice deep into your souls,
The only reason was, that unto you
The source, whence came her voice, desired to speak.
CAPESIUS:
Concerning this strange future gift of sight,
Whereof she spake, as dreaming, we have heard
That he, who of this circle is the soul,
Hath oft already given full report.
Is it not possible that from his words
The content of her speech hath origin,
The mode of utterance coming from herself?
MARIA:
If matters thus did stand, we should not deem
Her words of any consequence or weight:
But we have tested this condition well.
Before she came into our circle here,
Our friend had never heard in any way
Of that same leader's speeches, nor had we
Heard aught of her before she came to us.
CAPESIUS:
Then what we have to deal with is a state,
Such as so often happens, contrary
To all the laws of nature; and which we
Must merely estimate as some disease.
And only healthy thought, securely based
On fully conscious sense-impressions, can
Pass judgment on the riddles set by life.
STRADER:
Yet even here one fact presents itself;
And what we now have heard must have some worth--
For, even if we set aside all else
It doth compel the thought that spirit-power
Can cause thought-transference from soul to soul.
ASTRID:
Ah me, if ye would only dare to tread
The ground your mode of thought doth choose to shun:
As snow before the sunlight's piercing glare
Your vain delusion needs must melt away,
Which makes the moods revealéd, in such minds
Appear diseased, abnormal, wonderful.
They are suggestive, but they are not strange.
And small this wonder doth appear to me
When I compare it with the myriad
Of wonders that make up my daily life.
CAPESIUS:
Nay, nay, one thing it is to recognize
What lies before our eyes on every side,
But quite another, what is shown us here.
STRADER:
Of spirit 'tis not necessary to speak
Until there are things shown to us which lie
Outside the strictly circled boundary
Set by the laws of scientific thought.
ASTRID:
The clear shaft of the sunlight on the dew
Which glistens in the morning's golden light,
(Enter Felix Balde.)
The hurling stream that riseth 'neath the rock,
The thunder rumbling in the cloud-wrapped sky,
All these do speak to me a spirit tongue:
I strove to understand it; and I know
That of this speech's meaning and its might,
Only a faint reflection can be glimpsed
Through your investigations, as they are.
And when that kind of speech sank deep within
My heart, I found my soul's true joy at last.
Nor could aught else, but human words alone
And spirit teaching grant this gift to me.
FELIX BALDE:
Those words rang true indeed.
MARIA:
I must essay
To tell what joy fills all my heart to see
(Enter Felicia Balde.)
For the first time here with us yonder man,
Of whom we oft have heard; and joy doth cause
The wish to see him here full many times.
FELIX BALDE:
It is not usual for me that I should
Associate with such a crowd of men:
And not alone unusual----
FELICIA:
Aye, 'tis so.
His nature drives us into solitude
Away from all; year in, year out, we hear
Scarce any other converse save our own.
And if this good man here from time to time
(Pointing to Capesius.)
Came not to linger in our cottage home,
We scarce should realize that other men,
Besides ourselves, live on the earth at all.
And if the man, who spake such wondrous words
But recently in yonder lecture-hall,
And who affected us so potently,
Did not full many a time my Felix meet,
When he is gone about his daily tasks,
Ye would know nought of our forgotten life.
MARIA:
So the professor often visits you?
CAPESIUS:
Assuredly. And I may tell you all,
The very deep indebtedness I feel
To this good woman, who doth give to me
In rich abundance, what none other can.
MARIA:
And of what nature are these gifts of hers?
CAPESIUS:
If I would tell the tale, then must I touch
A thing that verily doth seem to me
More wonderful than much that here I've heard,
In that it speaks more nearly to my soul.
And were I in some other place, these words
Would hardly pass the barrier of my lips;
Yet here they seem to flow therefrom with ease.
In my soul-life there often comes a time
When it doth feel itself pumped out and dry.
It seems as though the very fountain-head
Of knowledge had run dry within my heart.
Then can I find no word of any kind
Worthy to speak or worthy to be heard.
And when I feel such spirit barrenness
I flee to these good people, and seek rest
In their reviving, peaceful solitude
Then Mistress Felix tells me many a tale
Set forth in wondrous pictures, manifold,
Of beings, dwelling in the land of dreams,
Who lead a joyous life in fairy realms.
When thus she speaks, her tone and speech recall
Some legend oft-told of the ancient days.
I ask no question whence she finds these words
But this one thing alone I clearly know:
That new life flows therefrom into my soul,
And sweeps away its dull paralysis.
MARIA:
To hear such splendid witness to the skill
Of Dame Felicia doth, in wondrous wise,
Harmoniously blend in every way
With all that Benedictus told to us
About his friend's deep hidden knowledge-founts.
FELIX BALDE:
He who spake words to us just now, which showed
(Benedictus appears at the door.)
How in the realm of universal space,
And vast eternities his spirit dwelt,
Hath surely little need to speak o'er much
Of simple men.
BENEDICTUS:
Thou errest friend. For me
Infinite value hath each word of thine.
FELIX BALDE:
It was presumption only, and the bent
Of idle talk, when thou didst honour me
To wander at thy side our mountain paths.
Only because thou didst conceal from me
How much thyself dost know, I dared to speak.
But now our time is up, and we must go--
A long way hence doth lie our quiet home.
FELICIA:
It hath been most refreshing once again
To come amongst mankind: and yet I fear
It will not happen very soon again:
There is no other life which Felix deems
Better than living in his mountain heights.
(Exeunt Felix and his wife.)
BENEDICTUS:
Indeed I well believe his wife is right,
Nor will he come again for many days.
It needed much to bring him here today.
And yet the reason lies not in himself
Why no one knoweth aught of him or his.
CAPESIUS:
He only seemed to me eccentric, strange;
And many an hour I found him talkative
When I was with him; but his mystic speech
And strange discourse remained obscure to me,
When he revealed all that he claims to know.
He spoke of solar beings housed in rocks;
Of lunar demons, who disturb their work;
And of the sense of number hid in plants;
And he who listens to him cannot long
Keep clear the thread of meaning in his words.
BENEDICTUS:
And yet 'tis also possible to feel
As if the powers of Nature, through these words,
Sought to reveal themselves in their true state.
(Exit.)
STRADER:
Already do I feel forebodings strange
That now dark hours are coming in my life.
For since the days of cloistered solitude,
Where I was taught such knowledge, and thereby
Struck to the very darkest depth of soul,
Not one experience has stirred me so,
As this weird vision of the seeress here.
CAPESIUS:
Indeed I cannot see that aught of that
Should prove unnerving. And I fear, my friend,
That if thou once dost lose thy certainty,
Dark doubt will soon envelop all thy thought.
STRADER:
Too true! And 'tis the fear of just this doubt
That causeth me full many an anxious hour
From my experience I know nought else
Of this strange gift of seership, save that when
Life's vexing problems sorely trouble me,
Then, ghostlike, riseth from dark spirit-depths,
Before my spirit's eyes, some phantom form
Like some dream-being, grim and terrible,
Pressing with fearful weight upon my soul,
And clutching horribly around my heart.
It seems to speak right through me words like these:
'If thou dost fail to gain the victory
O'er me with those blunt weapons of thy thought,
Thou art a fleeting phantom, nothing more,
Formed by thine own deluded imagery.'
THEODOSIUS:
That is the destiny of all such men,
As do approach the world by thought alone.
The spirit's voice dwells deep in every soul.
Nor have we strength to pierce the covering
That spreads itself before our faculties.
Thought doth bring knowledge of things temporal,
Of things that vanish in the course of time:
The everlasting and all spirit-truth
Are found but in the inner depths of man.
STRADER:
If, then, the fruitage of a pious faith
Is able to give rest to weary souls,
Such souls may wander safely in that path,
And find sufficiency within themselves.
And yet the power of knowledge, pure and true,
Doth never bloom on such a path as this.
THEODOSIUS:
Yet there can be no other way to light
True spirit-knowledge in the hearts of men.
Pride may seduce and change to fantasies
The soul's true depths of feeling, and may see
A vision only where faith's beauty lies.
One thing alone of all we here have heard
From spirit-teaching of the higher worlds,
Strikes clear upon our honest human sense:
That only in the spirit-world itself
The soul can feel itself in its true home.
THE OTHER MARIA:
So long as man feels need of speech alone,
And nought besides, so long such words as these
May satisfy him: but the fuller life
With all its strife, its yearnings after joy,
And all its sorrow, needeth other food
To nourish and sustain the fainting soul.
For me, an inner voice did drive me on
To spend all the remaining days of life
Which were allotted me, in helping those
Whom stress of destiny had smitten down
And plunged in deepest poverty and need.
And far more oft I found it necessary
To soothe the anguish of the soul of man
Than heal his body's pain and suffering.
But I have felt indeed in many ways
My will's weak impotence to comfort men.
So that I am compelled to seek fresh strength
From out the treasured store which floweth forth
Abundantly from spirit-sources here.
The quickening warmth of words which greet mine ear,
Flows forth with magic force into my hands;
And thence, like healing balsam, forth again,
When those hands touch some sorrow-laden soul.
It changeth on my lips to strengthening words
Which carry comfort unto pain-racked hearts.
The source of words like these I do not ask;
I feel their truth--they give me living life.
And every day more clearly do I see,
That they derive their strength not from my will
In all its weakness, but create anew
Myself each day unto myself again.
CAPESIUS:
Yet surely there are men enough on earth
Who, though they lack such revelation's aid,
Perform innumerable deeds of good?
MARIA:
In sooth there is no lack of men like these
In many places; but my friend doth mean
A different thing; and if thou didst but know
The life she led, thou wouldst speak otherwise.
Where unused powers in full abundance dwell
There love will cause the seed to germinate
In rich abundance in the heart's good soil.
But our friend here exhausted life's best powers
In never-ending toil beyond her strength;
And all her will to live lay crushed and dead
Beneath the cruel weight of destiny,
Which fell upon her. All her strength she gave
To careful guidance of her children's weal:
And low already had her courage ebbed
When early death took her loved husband home.
In such a state as this, days dull and drear
Seemed all fate had in store whilst life remained.
But then the powers of destiny prevailed
To bring her 'neath the spell of spirit-lore;
And soon with us she felt the vital force
Of life break forth in her a second time.
Fresh aims in life she found, and with them came
Fresh courage once again to fight and strive.
And thus in her the spirit hath achieved
In very truth to fashion from decay
A new and living personality.
And when the spirit in such fruit as this
Shows its creative potency, we learn
Its nature, and the way it speaks to us.
And, if no pride lies hidden in our speech,
And highest moral aims live in our hearts;
If we believe that in no way at all
Our teaching is our own;--but that alone
The spirit shows itself within our souls--
Then may we surely venture to assert
That in thy mode of thinking may be found
But feeble shadows waving to and fro
Athwart the real true source of human life:
And that the spirit, which ensouls our work
Is linked in inward harmony with all
That weaves the web of destiny for man
Deep in the very fundaments of life.
I have been privileged for many years
To give myself to vital work in life:
And during all this time more bleeding hearts
And yearning souls have come before mine eyes,
Than many would conceive were possible.
I do esteem thy high ideal flight,
The proud assurance of thy sciences:
I like to see the student-audience,
Respectful, sit and listen at thy feet:
And that to many souls thy work doth bring
Ennobling clarity of thought, I know.
But yet regarding thought like this, it seems,
Trustworthiness can only dwell therein
So long as thought lives in itself alone.
Whereas the realm of which I am a part
Sends into deep realities of life
The fruitage of its words, since it desires
To plant in deep realities its roots.
Far, far away from all thy thought doth lie
The written word upon the spirit-heaven
Which with momentous tokens doth announce
New growth upon the tree of humankind.
And though indeed such thought seems clear and sure
As follows faithfully the ancient path,
Yet can it only touch the tree's coarse bark,
And never reach the marrow's living power.
ROMANUS:
For my part I do seek in vain the bridge
That truly leadeth from ideas to deeds.
CAPESIUS:
On one side thou dost over-estimate
The power which can be wielded by ideas,
And on the other thou dost fail to grasp
The actual course of true reality:
For it is certain that ideas must form
The germ of all the actual deeds of men.
ROMANUS:
If this friend doth so many deeds of good,
The impulse thereunto lies in herself
And her warm-hearted nature, not in thought.
Most certainly 'tis necessary for man,
Whene'er he hath accomplished any work,
To find foundation for it in ideas.
But yet 'tis only schooling of man's will
In harmony with all his skill and power
To undertake some real work in life
Which will help forward all the human race.
When whirr of busy wheels sounds in mine ears,
Or when I see some creaking windlass drawn
By strong stout hands of men content to work,
Then do I sense indeed the powers of Life.
GERMANUS:
Often in careless speech have I maintained
That I preferred things droll and humorous
And held these only full of wit and charm,
Deeming that for my brain at any rate,
They always would provide material
Best fitted to fill up the time that lies
Between my recreation and my work.
But now quite tasteless to me seem such things;
The Power Invisible hath conquered me;
And I have learned to feel that there may be
More powerful forces in humanity,
Than all our wit's frail castles in the air.
CAPESIUS:
And did it seem that nowhere else but here
'Twas possible to find such spirit-powers?
GERMANUS:
Indeed the life I lived did offer me
Full many a type of intellectual works:
Yet cared I not to pluck or taste their fruit.
But this strange mode of thought which blossoms here
Seemed to attract and draw me to itself
However little I desired to come.
CAPESIUS:
Most pleasant hath this hour of converse been,
And we are debtors to our hostess here.
(Exeunt all, except Maria and Johannes.)
JOHANNES:
Oh, stay a little while yet by my side,
I am afraid:--so desperately afraid:--
MARIA:
What is it aileth thee, my friend? Speak forth.
JOHANNES:
The first cause was our leader's speech; and then
The chequered converse of these people here.
It all hath moved and stirred me through and through.
MARIA:
But how could simple speeches such as these
Seize on thine heart with such intensity?
JOHANNES:
Each word seemed in that moment unto me
A dreadful symbol of our nothingness.
MARIA:
Indeed it was significant to see
Pour forth in such short time so many kinds
Of life and man's conflicting tendencies,
In all the speeches that we lately heard.
Yet 'tis indeed a most peculiar trait
Of life, as it is lived amongst us here,
To bring to speech the inner mind of man;
And much that otherwise comes slowly forth,
Stands here revealed in little space of time.
JOHANNES:
A mirrored picture 'twas of fullest life
That showed me to myself in clearest lines:
This spirit-revelation makes me feel
That most of us protect and train one trait
And one alone in all our character,
Which thus persuades itself it is the whole.
I sought to unify these many traits
In mine own self and boldly trod the path
Which here is shown, to lead unto that goal;
And it hath made of me a nothingness.
Keenly I feel what all these others lack,
And yet I sense as keenly that they all
Have actual part in life itself, whilst I
Stand but on unsubstantial nothingness.
It seemed whole lines of life ran into one
Significant in those brief speeches here.
But then mine own life's portrait also rose
And stood forth vividly within my soul.
The days of childhood first were painted there,
With all its fulness and its joy in life:
Then came the picture of my youthful prime
With that proud hopefulness in parent-hearts
Awakened by the talents of their son.
Then dreams concerning my career in art,
Which formed life's all in those old happy days,
Surged up from out my spirit's inmost depths
Exhorting to fulfil my cherished hopes;
And then those dreams in which thyself didst see
How I translated into coloured form
The spirit-life that liveth in thy soul.
Then saw I tongues of fire spring up and lick
Around my youthful dreams and artist hopes,
Reducing all to dust and nothingness.
Thereafter rose another pictured form
From out that drear and dreadful nothingness--
A human form, which once had linked its fate
In faithful love with mine in days long past.
She sought to hold me by her when I turned
Long years ago unto my home again,
Called to attend my mother's funeral rites.
I heeded not, but tore myself away.
For mighty was the power that drew me here
To this thy circle and the goals of life
Which here are set before our eager gaze.
In those dark days I felt no sense of guilt
When I did rend in twain the bond of love,
That was unto another soul its life.
Nor later when the message came to me
How that her life did slowly pine away,
And finally was altogether quenched
Did I feel aught of guilt until today;
But full of meaning were those recent words
In yonder chamber which our leader spake;
How that we may destroy by power misused
And perverse thought the destiny of those
Whom bonds of loving trust link to our souls.
Ah, hideously these words again resound
Out of the picture, thence re-echoing
With ghastly repetition from all sides:
'Her murderer thou art! her hast thou slain!'
Thus whilst this weighty speech hath been for all
The motive to probe deep within themselves,
Within my heart it hath brought forth alone
The consciousness of this most grievous guilt.
By this new means of sight I can perceive
How far astray my striving footsteps erred.
MARIA:
And at this moment, friend, in dark domains
Thou walkest, and none else can help thee there,
Save he, in whom we all do put our trust.
(Maria is called away; re-enter Helena.)
HELENA:
I feel constrained to linger by thy side
A little while; since now for many weeks
Thy gaze hath held so much of grief and care.
How can the light, which streams so radiantly
Bring gloom unto thy soul, which only strives
With utmost strength to seek and know the truth?
JOHANNES:
Hath then this light brought naught but joy to thee?
HELENA:
Not the same joy as that which once I knew,
But that new joy which springeth from those words,
Through which the spirit doth reveal itself.
JOHANNES:
Natheless I tell thee that the self-same power,
Which doth in thee create, can also crush.
HELENA:
Some error must have crept into thy soul
With cunning tread, if this be possible;
And if dull care instead of happiness,
And moods of sorrow flow forth from the source
Of truth itself instead of spirit-bliss
In free abundance: seek then in thyself
The stumbling-blocks that thus impede thy way.
How often are we told that only health
Is the true fruitage of our teaching here,
Which makes to blossom forth the powers of life.
Shall it then show the contrary in thee?
I see its fruitage in so many lives,
Which, trusting me, find union in themselves.
Their former mode of life grows day by day
Strange and still stranger to such souls as these;
As well-springs are fresh opened in their hearts,
Thenceforth renewing life within themselves.
To gaze into the primal depths of being
Doth not create those passionate desires
Which torture and torment the souls of men.
(Exit.)
JOHANNES.JOHANNES:
It took me many years to understand
And know the vanity of things of sense
When spirit-knowledge is not joined with them
In close and intimate companionship:
And yet one single moment proves to me
That e'en the highest wisdom's words may be
But vanity of soul in man's own self.
Curtain
SCENE 2
In the open. Rocks and springs. The entire scene is to be thought of
as taking place in the soul of Johannes Thomasius. What follows is
the content of his meditation.
(There sounds from the springs and rocks:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
JOHANNES:
'Tis thus I hear them, now these many years,
These words of weighty import all around,
(hear them in the wind and in the wave:
Out from earth's depths do they resound to me:
And as a tiny acorn's mystery,
Confines the structure of a mighty oak,
So in the kernel of these words there lies,
All elemental nature; all I grasp
Of soul, of spirit, time, eternity.
It seems mine own peculiarities
And all the world besides live in these words:
'Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself.'
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
JOHANNES:
And now--I feel
Mine inmost being terrified to life:
Without the gloom of night doth weave me round,
And deep within my soul thick darkness yawns:
And sounding from this universal gloom
And up from out the darkness of my soul
These words ring forth: 'Know thou thyself, O man.'
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
JOHANNES:
It robs me of my very self: I change
Each hour of day, and am transformed by night.
The earth I follow on its cosmic course:
I seem to rumble in the thunder's peal,
And flash adown the lightning's fierce-forked tongue--
I AM.--Alas, already do I feel
Mine own existence snatched away from me.
I see what was my former carnal shape,
As some strange being, quite outside myself,
And infinitely far away from me.
But now another body hovers near,
And through its mouth I am compelled to speak:--
'Ah, bitter sorrow hath he brought to me;
So utterly I trusted him of old.
He left me lonely with my sorrow's pain,
He robbed me of the very warmth of life,
And thrust me deep beneath the chill, cold ground.'
Poor soul, 'tis she I left, and leaving her
It was in truth mine own self that I left;
And I must suffer all her pain and woe.
For knowledge hath endowed me with the power
Myself into another's self to fuse.
Ah me! Ye quench again by your own power
The light of inner knowledge ye have brought,
Ye cruel words, 'Know thou thyself, O man.'
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
JOHANNES:
Ye lead me back again within the sphere
Of mine own being's former fantasies.
Yet in what shape know I myself again!
My human form is lost and gone from me;
Like some fierce dragon do I see myself;
Begotten out of primal lust and greed.
And clearly do I see how up till now
Some dim deluding veil of phantom forms
Hath hid from me mine own monstrosity.
Mine own self's fierceness must devour my Self.
And through my veins run like consuming fire
Those words, that once with elemental force
Revealed the core of suns and earths to me.
They throb within my pulse, beat in mine heart;
And even in mine inmost thoughts I feel
Strange worlds e'en now blaze forth like passions fierce.
They are the fruitage of these very words:
'Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself,'
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
JOHANNES:
There,--from that dark abyss, what creature glares?
I feel the chains that hold me chained to thee.
So fast was not Prometheus rivetted
Upon the naked rocks of Caucasus,
As I am rivetted and forged to thee--
Who art thou, fearful, execrable shape?
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
JOHANNES:
Oh yea, I know thee; for thou art myself:
Knowledge doth chain to thee, pernicious beast,
(Enter Maria unnoticed by Johannes.)
Chain mine own self to thee, pernicious beast.
I willed to flee from thee; but I was blind,
Blinded by glamour of the worlds, whereto
My folly fled to free me from myself;
And now once more within my sightless soul
Blind through these words: 'Know thou thyself, O man.'
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
JOHANNES: (As though coming to himself, sees Maria. The meditation
passes to the plane of inner reality.)
Thou here, my friend?
MARIA:
I sought thee, friend, although I know full well
How comforting to thee is solitude,
When many varying thoughts of many men
Have flooded o'er thy soul. I also know
I cannot by my presence help my friend
In this dark hour of strife--yet yearnings vague
Drive me in this same moment unto thee;
When Benedictus' words, instead of light,
Such grievous sorrow drew from thy soul's depths.
JOHANNES:
How comforting to me is solitude!
Yea, I have sought to find myself therein,
So often when to labyrinths of thought
The joys and griefs of men had driven me.
But now, O friend, that, too, is past and gone.
What Benedictus' words at first aroused
Within my soul, and all that I lived through
When listening to the speeches of those men,
Seems but indeed a little thing, when I
Compare therewith the storm that solitude
With sullen brooding hath brought forth in me.
Ah me! when I recall this solitude!
It hounded me into the voids of space,
And tore me from my very self in two.
Within that soul to whom I brought such pain
I stood, as though I were some other man.
And there I had to suffer all the pain
Of which I was myself the primal cause.
Ah cruel, sombre, fearful solitude
Thou giv'st me back unto myself indeed,
Yet but to terrify me with the sight
Of mine own nature's fathomless abyss.
Man's final refuge hath been lost to me:
I have been robbed of solitude itself.
MARIA:
I must repeat what I have said before.
Alone can Benedictus succour thee;
Only from him may we obtain support
And that firm basis which we both do lack.
For know thou this: I also can no more
Endure the riddle of my life, unless
His gentle guidance solveth it for me.
Full often have I kept before mine eyes
This truth sublime, that o'er all life doth float
Appearance and deception if we grasp
Life's surface only in our moods of thought.
And o'er and o'er again it spake to me:
Thou must take knowledge how illusion's veil
Weaves all around thee; and however oft
It may appear to thee as truth, beware;
For evil fruitage may in truth arise
If thou shouldst try within another's soul
To wake the light that lives within thyself.
Yet in the best part of my soul I know
That even this oppressive weight of care
Which hath o'erwhelmed thy soul, dear friend of mine,
As thou didst tread with me the path of life,
Is part and parcel of the thorny way,
That leads unto the light of Truth itself.
Thou must live through each horror and alarm
That can spring forth from vain imagining
Before the Truth in essence stands revealed.
Thus speaks thy star; and by that same star speech
It doth appear to me that we shall walk
One day united, on the spirit-paths.
And yet whene'er I seek to tread these paths
Black night doth spread a curtain round my sight.
And many things that I must live and do,
Which spring as fruitage from my character,
Intensify the darkness of that night.
We two must seek clear vision in that light,
Which, though it vanish for a while from sight,
Can never be extinguished in the soul.
JOHANNES:
But then, Maria, dost thou realize
Through what my soul hath fought its way but now?
A grievous destiny awaiteth thee,
Most noble friend. For well I know that far
From thy pure nature lies that potent force,
That hath so wholly shattered me to bits.
Thou canst ascend the clearest heights of truth,
And scan with steadfast gaze life's tangled path;
And whether in the darkness or the light
Thou wilt retain thine own identity.
But me each moment may deprive of Self.
Deep down I had to dive within the hearts
Of those who late revealed themselves in speech.
I followed one to cloistered solitude,--
And in another's soul I listened to
Felicia's fairy lore. I was each one;
Only unto myself I seemed as dead;
For I must fain believe that primal life
Did spring from very Nothingness itself,
If it were right to entertain the hope,
That out of that dread nothingness in me
A human being ever could arise.
For I am driven from fear into the dark
And from the darkness back again to fear
By wisdom stored within these living words:
'Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself.'
(From the springs and rocks the words resound:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
Curtain
SCENE 3
A room for meditation. The background is a great purple curtain. The
scene is purple in colour with a large yellow pentagonal lamp
suspended from the ceiling. No other furniture or ornaments are in
the room except the lamp and one chair. Benedictus, Johannes, Maria,
and a child.
MARIA:
I bring to thee this child who needs some word
From out thy mouth.
BENEDICTUS:
My child, henceforth each eve
Thou shalt come unto me to hear the word
That shall fill full thy soul ere thou dost tread
The realm of souls in sleep. Wilt thou do this?
CHILD:
Most gladly will I come.
BENEDICTUS:
This very eve
Fill thy soul full ere sleep embraceth thee,
With strength from these few words: 'The powers of light
Bear me aloft unto the spirit's home.'
(Maria leads the child away.)
MARIA:
And now, that this child's destiny doth flow
Harmoniously through future days beneath
The shadow of thy gracious fatherhood,
I too may claim my leader's kind advice,
Who am its mother, not by bond of blood
But through the mighty power of destiny.
For thou hast shown to me the way wherein
I had to guide its footsteps from that day,
When I discovered it before my door
Left by its unknown mother desolate.
And wonder-working proved themselves those rules
Whereby thou madest me train my foster-child.
All powers, that deep in body and in soul
Lay hidden, issued forth to light and life:
Clear proof it was that all thy counselling
Sprang from the realm which sheltered this child's soul
Before it built its body's covering.
We saw the hopes of manhood blossom forth
And radiate more brightly each new day;
Thou dost know well how hard it was for me
To gain the child's affection, at the first.
It grew up 'neath my care, and yet nought else
Save habit chained its soul at first to mine.
It only realized and felt that I
Gave it the nurture and the food that served
The needs of body and the growth of soul.
Then came the time when in the child-like heart
There dawned the love for her who fostered it.
An outer incident brought forth this change--
The visit of the seeress to our group.
Gladly the child did go about with her
And soon did learn full many a beauteous word
Steeped in the mystic charm that graced her speech.
Then came the moment when her ecstasy
Descended on our friend with magic power.
The child could see her eyes' strange smouldering light,
And, terrified unto its vital core,
The young soul dawned to consciousness of self.
In her dismay she fled unto mine arms;
And from that hour did grow her love for me.
Since that same time she doth accept from me
The gifts of life with her full consciousness
Not with blind instinct: aye, and since that day
When this young heart first quivered into warmth,
Whene'er her gaze met mine with loving glance,
Thy wisdom's treasures of their fruitage failed,
And much already ripe hath withered up.
I saw appear in her those tokens strange
That proved so terrible unto my friend.
A dark enigma am I to myself,
And grow still darker. Thou wilt not deny
To solve for me life's fearful questionings?
Why do I thus destroy both friend and child,
When I in love approach my work with them
To give them knowledge of that spirit-lore
Which in my soul I know to be the good?
Oft hast thou taught me this exalted truth--
'Illusion's veil o'erspreads life's surfaces'--
Yet must I see with greater clarity
Why I must bear this heavy destiny,
That seems so cruel and which works such harm.
BENEDICTUS:
Within our circle there is formed a knot
Of threads that Karma spins world-fashioning.
Thy sufferings, my friend are links in chains,
Forged by the hand of destiny, whereby
The deeds of gods unite with human lives.--
When in life's pilgrimage I had attained
That rank which granted me the dignity
To serve with counsel in the spirit-spheres,
A godlike Being did draw nigh to me,
Who would descend into the realms of earth,
And dwell there, veiled in form of flesh, as man.
For just at this one turning-point of time
The Karma of mankind made this demand.
For each great step in world-development
Is only possible when gods do stoop
To link themselves with human destiny.
And this new spirit-sight that needs must grow
And germinate henceforth in souls of men
Can only be unfolded when a god
Doth plant the seed within some human heart.
My task it was to find that human soul
Which worthy seemed to take within itself
The powerful Seed of God. I had to join
The deed of heaven to some human lot.
My spirit's eye then sought, and fell on thee.
Thy course of life had fitted thee to be
The mediator in salvation's work.
Through many former lives thou hadst acquired
Receptiveness for all the greatest things
That human hearts can e'er experience.
Within thy tender soul thou didst bring forth,
As spirit heritage, the noble gift
Of beauty, joined to virtue's loftiest claim:
And that which thine eternal Self had formed
And brought to being through thy birth on earth
Did reach ripe fruitage when thy years were few.--
Too soon thou didst not scale steep spirit-heights;
Nor grew thy yearning for the spirit-land
Before thou hadst the full enjoyment known
Of harmless pleasures in the world of sense.
Anger and love thy soul did learn to know
When thy thoughts dwelt yet far from spirit-life.
Nature in all her beauty to enjoy,
And pluck the fruits of art,--these didst thou strive
To make thy life's sole content and its wealth.
Merry thy laughter, as a child can laugh
Who hath not known as yet life's shadowed fears.
And thus thou learn'dst to understand life's joy,
And mourn its sadness, each in its own time,
Before thy dawning conscience grew to seek
Of sorrow and of happiness the cause.
A ripened fruit of many lives that soul,
That enters earth's domains, and shows such moods.
Its childlike nature is the blossoming
And not the ground-root of its character.
And such a soul alone was I to choose
As mediator for the God, who sought
The power to work within our human world.
And now thou learnest that thy nature must
Transform itself into its opposite,
When it flows forth to other human souls.
The spirit in thee ripens whatsoe'er
In human nature can attain the realm
Of vast eternity; and much it slays
That is but part of transitory realms.
And yet the sacrifices of such deaths
Are but the seeds of immortality,
All that which blossoms forth from death below
Must grow unto the higher life above.
MARIA:
E'en so it is with me. Thou giv'st me light:
But light that doth deprive me of my sight,
And sunder me from mine own self in twain.
Then do I seem some spirit's instrument
No longer master of myself. No more
Do I endure that erstwhile form of mine
Which only is a mask and not the truth.
JOHANNES:
O friend, what ails thee? Vanished is the light
That filled thine eye: as marble is thy frame.
I grasp thine hand and find it cold as death.
BENEDICTUS:
My son, full many trials have come to thee;
And now thou stand'st before life's hardest test.
Thou seest the carnal covering of thy friend;
But her true self doth float in spirit-spheres
Before mine eyes.
JOHANNES:
See! Her lips move; she speaks.
MARIA:
Thou gav'st me clearness; yet this clearness throws
A veil of darkness round on every side.
I curse thy clearness; and I curse thee too,
Who didst make tool of me for weird wild arts
Whereby thou willedst to deceive mankind.
No doubt at any moment hitherto
Had crossed my mind of heights thy spirit reached;
But now one single moment doth suffice
To tear all faith in thee from out my heart.
Those spirit-beings thou art subject to,
I now must recognize as hellish fiends.
Others I had to mislead and deceive
Because at first I was deceived by thee.--
But I will flee unto dim distances,
Where not a sound of thee shall reach mine ears;
Yet near enough that thy soul may be reached
By bitter curses framed by these my lips.
For thou didst rob my blood of all its fire,
That thou mightst sacrifice to thy false god
That which was rightly mine and mine alone.
But now this same blood's fire shall thee consume.
Thou madest me trust in vain imaginings;
And that this might be so, thou first didst make
A pictured falsehood of my very self.
Often had I to mark how in my soul
Each deed and thought turned to its opposite;
So now doth turn what once was love for thee,
Into the fire of wild and bitter hate.
Through all worlds will I seek to find that fire
Which can consume thee. See--I cur--Ah--woe!
JOHANNES:
Who speaketh here? I do not see my friend.
I hear instead some gruesome being speak.
BENEDICTUS:
Thy friend's soul hovers in the heights above.
Only her mortal image hath she left
Here with us: and where'er a human form
Is found bereft of soul, there is the room
Sought by the enemy, the foe of good,
To enter into realms perceptible,
And find some carnal form through which to speak.
Just such an adversary spake e'en now,
Who would destroy the work imposed on me
For thee, my son, and millions yet unborn.
Were I to deem these wild anathemas,
Which our friend's shell did utter here and now,
Aught else but some grim tempter's cunning skill,
Thou durst not follow more my leadership.
The enemy of Good stood by my side,
And thou hast seen into the darkness plunged
All that is temporal of that dear form,
For whom, my son, thy whole love burns and glows.
Since through her mouth spirits spake oft to thee,
The Karma of the world could not restrain
Hell's princes also speaking thus through her.
First now thou mayst seek her very soul
And learn her nature's inmost verity;
For she shall form for thee the prototype
Of that new higher type of humankind
To which thou dost aspire to raise thyself.
Her soul hath soared aloft to spirit-heights,
Where every man may find his being's source
Which springs to life and fulness in himself.
Thou too shalt follow her to spirit-realms,
And see her in the Temple of the Sun.--
Within this circle there is formed a knot
Of threads which Karma spins, world fashioning.
My son, since thou hast now attained thus far,
Thou shalt still further pierce beyond the veil.
I see thy star in fullest splendour shine.
There is no place within the realm of sense
For strife, such as men wage when they do strive
And struggle after consecration's gift.
The riddles which arise in worlds of sense
Must find solution through man's intellect;
From all that sense engenders in man's heart
Whether of love or hate, whate'er its source
And howsoever direful its results,
The spirit-seeker needs must stand aloof,
Whence he may cast his glance all undisturbed
Upon the fields where such contentions rage.
For him must other powers unfold themselves
Which are not found upon that field of strife.
So didst thou need to fight to prove thy soul
In combat such as comes to him alone,
Who finds himself accoutred for such powers
As do belong unto the spirit-worlds.
And had these powers found thee not ripe enough
To tread the path of knowledge, they needs must
Have maimed thy powers of feeling, ere thou daredst
To know all that which now is known to thee.
The Beings, who can gaze into world-depths,
Lead on those men, who would attain the heights,
First to that summit whence it may be shown
Whether there lies in them the power to reach
To conscious sight within the spirit-realms.
And those in whom such powers are found to lie
Are straightway from the world of sense set free.
The others all must wait their season due.
But thou, thou hast preserved thy Self, my son,
When Powers on high stirred to its depths thy soul.
And potent spirits shrouded thee with fear.
Right powerfully thy Self hath fought its way
E'en though thy very heart was torn by doubts,
That willed to thrust thee into darksome depths.
True pupil of my teaching hast thou been,
First since that hour, so fraught with fate for thee,
When thou didst learn to doubt thy very self,
And gavest up thyself as wholly lost,
But yet the strength within thee held thee fast.
Then might I give thee of my treasured store
Of wisdom, whence to draw the strength to stand
Assured, e'en when mistrusting thine own self.
Such was the wisdom which thou didst attain
More steadfast than the faith once given to thee.
Ripe wast thou found, and thou may'st be set free.
Thy friend hath gone before and waits for thee
In spirit-worlds, and thou shalt find her there.
I can but add this guidance for thee now:
Kindle the full power of thy soul with words
Which through my lips shall grant to thee the key
To spirit-heights, and they will lead thee on
When naught else leads, that eyes of sense can see.
Receive them in the fulness of thy heart:
'The weaving essence of the light streams forth
Through depths of space to fill the world with light;
Love's grace doth warm the centuries of time
To call forth revelation of all worlds.
And spirit-messengers come forth to wed
The weaving essence of creative light
With revelation of the souls of men:
And that man, who can wed to both of these
His very Self, he lives in spirit-heights.'
O spirits, who are visible to man,
Quicken with life the soul of this our son:
From inmost depths may there stream forth for him
That which can fill his soul with spirit-light.
From inmost depths may there resound for him
That which can wholly wake in him his Self
To the creative joy of spirit-life.
A SPIRIT-VOICE BEHIND THE STAGE:
To founts of worlds primeval
His surging thoughts do mount;--
What as shadow he hath thought
What as fancy he hath lived
Soars up beyond the world of form and shape;
On whose fulness pondering
Mankind in shadow dreams,
O'er whose fulness gazing forth
Mankind in fancy lives.
Curtain
SCENE 4
A landscape, which seeks to express the world of souls by its
characteristic peculiarities.
Enter Lucifer and Ahriman. Johannes is seen at the right of the stage
in deep meditation. What follows is experienced by him in meditation.
LUCIFER:
O man, know thou thyself; O man, feel me.
From spirit guidance, thou hast 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, and was thy destiny.
Me didst thou find: for certain spirits willed
To cast a veil before the eyes of sense;
Which veil I rent in twain. Those spirits willed
To follow out their own desires in thee;
But I gave thee self-will and foiled their aim.
O man, know thou thyself; O man, feel me.
AHRIMAN:
O man, know me; O man, feel thou thyself.
Thou hast escaped from darkened spirit-realms
And thou hast found again the earth's pure light,
So now from my sure ground drink strength and truth.
I make earth hard and fast. The spirits willed
To snatch away from thee the charm of sense;
Which charm I weave for thee in light condensed.
I lead thee unto true reality.
O man, know me; O man, feel thou thyself.
LUCIFER:
Time was not when thou didst not live through me.
I followed thee throughout the course of life,
And was permitted to bestow on thee
Strong personal traits and joy in thine own self.
AHRIMAN:
Time was not when thou didst not me behold.
Thy mortal eyes saw me in all earth's growth;
I was permitted to shine forth for thee
In beauty proud and revelation's bliss.
JOHANNES (to himself in meditation):
This is the sign as Benedictus told.
Before the world of souls stand these two powers:
The one, as Tempter, lives within the soul;
The other doth obscure the sight of man
When he directeth it to outward things.
The one took on the woman's form e'en now,
To bring the soul's illusions 'neath my gaze;
The other may be found in everything.
(Enter the Spirit of the Elements with Capesius and Strader, whom he
has brought to the earth's surface from the earth's depths. They are
conceived as souls looking out upon the earth's surface. The Spirit
of the Elements is aged and stands erect upon a sphere. Capesius
and Strader are in astral garb; the former, though the older man of
the two in years, here appears the younger. He wears blue robes of
various shades, Strader wears brown and yellow.)
SPIRIT:
So have ye reached the spot ye longed to find.
It proved indeed a heavy care to me,
To grant your wish. Spirits and elements
Did rage in mad wild storm when their domain
I had to enter with your essences.
Your minds opposed the ruling of my powers.
CAPESIUS:
Mysterious Being, who art thou, who hast
Brought me to this fair realm through spirit-spheres?
SPIRIT:
The soul of man may only look on me,
Whene'er the service which I render it
Hath been achieved. Then may it trace my powers
Through all the moving sequences of time.
CAPESIUS:
It matters little to me to enquire
What spirit led me hither to this place.
I feel life's powers revive in this new land,
Whose light doth seem to widen mine own breast;
In my pulse-beat I feel the whole world's might;
And premonitions of exalted deeds
Thrill in my heart. I will translate in words
The revelation of this beauteous realm,
That hath refreshed me in such wondrous wise;
And souls of men shall bloom, as choicest flowers
If I can pour into their life on earth
The inspiration flowing from these founts.
(Lightning and thunder from the depths and heights.)
STRADER:
Why quake the depths, and why resound the heights?
When hope's young dreams surge upward in the soul?
(Lightning and thunder.)
SPIRIT:
To human dreamers words of hope like these
Sound proud indeed; but in the depths of earth
The vain illusions of mistaken thought
Awake such thunderous echoes evermore.
Ye mortals hear them only at those times
When ye draw nigh to my domain. Ye think
To build exalted temples unto Truth,
And yet your work's effects do but unchain
Storm-spirits in primeval depths of earth.
Nay more, the spirits must destroy whole worlds,
That deeds ye do in realms where time hath sway
May not cause devastation and cold death
Through all the ages of eternity.
STRADER:
So these eternal ages must regard
As empty fantasy what seems the truth
To man's best observation and research.
(Lightning and thunder.)
SPIRIT:
An empty fantasy, so long as sense
Doth only search in realms to spirit strange.
STRADER:
Thou may'st well call a dreamer that friend's soul
Which in the joy of youth its goal doth set
With such a noble strength and high desire;
But in mine aged heart thy words fall dead
Despite their summoned aid of thunderous storms.
I tore myself from cloistered quietude
To proud achievement in my search for truth.
In life's storm-centres many a year I stood,
And men had confidence in me, and what
I taught them through my deep strong sense for truth.
(Lightning and thunder.)
SPIRIT:
'Tis fitting for thee to confess that none
Can tell whence stream the fountains of our thought,
Nor where the fundaments of Being lie.
STRADER:
Oh this same speech, which in youth's hopeful days
So oft with chill persistence pierced my soul
When thought-foundations quaked, which once seemed firm!
(Lightning and thunder.)
SPIRIT:
If thou dost fail to gain the victory
O'er me with those blunt weapons of thy thought
Thou art a fleeting phantom, nothing more,
Formed by thine own deluded imagery.
STRADER:
So soon again such gruesome speech from thee!
This too I heard before in mine own soul,
When once a seeress threateningly did wish
To wreck the firm foundations of my thought
And make me feel the sharp dread sting of doubt.
But that is past, and I defy thy might,
Thou aged rogue, so cunningly concealed
Beneath a mask devised by thine own self
To counterfeit the form of nature's lord.
Reason will overthrow thee, otherwise
Than thou dost think, when once she is enthroned
Upon the proud heights of the mind of man.
As mistress will she reign assuredly
Not as some handmaiden in nature's realm.
SPIRIT:
The world is ordered so, that every act
Requires a like reaction: unto you
I gave the self; ye owe me my reward.
CAPESIUS:
I will myself create from mine own soul
The spirit counterpart of things of sense.
And when at length all nature stands transformed,
Idealized through man's creative work,
Her mirrored form shall be reward enough;
And then if thou dost feel thyself akin
To that great mother of all worlds, and spring'st
From depths where world-creating forces reign.
Then let my will, which lives in head and breast,
Inspiring me to aim at highest goals,
Be thy reward for deeds done at my best.
Thy help hath raised me from dull sentiment
To thought's proud heights--Let this be thy reward!
(Lightning and thunder.)
SPIRIT:
Ye well can see, how little your bold words
Bear weight in my domain: they do but loose
The storm, and rouse the elements to wrath,
Fierce adversaries of the ordered world.
CAPESIUS:
Take then thine own reward where't may be found.
The impulse that doth drive the souls of men
To seek true spirit-heights within themselves
Set their own measure, their own order make.
Creation were not possible for man
If others wished to claim what he had made.
The song that trills from out the linnet's throat
Sufficeth for itself; and so doth man
Find his reward, when in his fashioning work
He doth experience creative joy.
(Lightning and thunder.)
SPIRIT:
It is not meet to grudge me my reward.
If ye yourselves cannot repay the debt
Then tell the woman, who endowed your souls
With power, that she must pay instead of you.
(Exit.)
CAPESIUS:
He hath departed. Whither turn we now?
To find our way aright in these new worlds
Must be, it seems, the first care of our minds.
STRADER:
To follow confidently the best way,
That we can find, with sure but cautious tread,
Methinks should lead us straightway to the goal.
CAPESIUS:
Rather should we be silent as to goal.
That we shall find if we courageously
Obey the impulse of our inner self,
Which speaks thus to me: 'Let Truth be thy guide;
May it unfold strong powers within thyself
And mould them with the noblest fashioning
In all that thou shalt do; then must thy steps
Attain their destined goal, nor go astray.'
STRADER:
Yet from the outset it were best our steps
Should not lack consciousness of their true goal,
If we would be of service unto men
And give them happiness. He, who would serve
Himself alone, doth follow his own heart;
But he, who wills to serve his neighbour best,
Must surely know his life's necessities.
(The Other Maria, also in soul-form, emerges from the rocks, covered
with precious stones.)
But see! What wondrous being's this? It seems
As though the rock itself did give it birth.
From what world-depths do such strange forms arise?
THE OTHER MARIA:
I wrest my way through solid rock, and fain
Would clothe in human speech its very will;
I sense earth's essence and with human brains
I fain would think the thoughts of Earth herself.
I breathe the purest airs of life, and shape
The powers of air to feel as doth mankind.
STRADER:
Then thou canst not assist us in our quest.
For far aloft from men's endeavour stands
All that which must abide in nature's realm.
CAPESIUS:
Lady, I like thy words, and I would fain
Translate thy form of speech into mine own.
THE OTHER MARIA:
Most strange doth seem to me your proud discourse.
For, when ye speak yourselves, unto mine ear
Your words do sound incomprehensible.
But if I let them echo in my heart
And issue in new form, they spread abroad
O'er all that lives in mine environment
And solve for me its hidden mystery.
CAPESIUS:
If this, thy speech, be true, then change for us
Into thy speech, that nature may respond,
The question of the true worth of our lives.
For we ourselves lack power to question thus
Great mother nature that we may be heard.
THE OTHER MARIA:
In me ye only see an humble maid
Of that high spirit-being, which doth dwell
In that domain whence ye have just now come.
There hath been given me this field of work
That here in lowliness I may show forth
Her mirrored image unto mortal sense.
CAPESIUS:
So then we have just fled from that domain
Wherein our longing could have been assuaged?
THE OTHER MARIA:
And if ye do not find again the way,
Your efforts shall be fruitless evermore.
CAPESIUS:
Then tell which way will lead us back again.
THE OTHER MARIA:
There are two ways. If my power doth attain
To its full height all creatures of my realm
Shall glow in beauty's most resplendent dress.
From rocks and water, glittering light shall stream,
And colours in their richest fulness flash
On all around, whilst life in merry mood
Shall fill the air with joyous harmony.
And if your souls do then but steep themselves
In mine own being's purest ecstasy
On spirit pinions shall ye wing your way
Unto primeval origins of worlds.
STRADER:
That is no way for us; for in our speech
We name such talk mere fancy, and we fain
Would seek firm ground, not fly to cloud-capped heights.
THE OTHER MARIA:
Then if ye wish to tread the other path
Ye must forthwith renounce your spirit's pride.
Ye must forget what reason doth command,
And let the touch of nature conquer you.
In your men's breasts let your child-soul have sway,
Artless and undisturbed by thought's dim shades.
So will ye surely reach Life's fountain-head,
Although unconscious of the way ye go.
(Exit.)
CAPESIUS:
Thus are we thrown back on ourselves alone,
And have but learned that it behoveth us
To work and wait in patience for the fruit
That future days shall ripen from our work.
JOHANNES (speaking, as it were, from his meditation. Here and in the
following scene he sits aside and takes no part in the action):
So do I find within the soul's domain
Those men who are already known to me:
First he who told us of Felicia's tales,
Though here I saw him in his youthful prime;
And also he who in his younger days
Had chosen for his life monastic rule,
As some old man did he appear: with them
There stood the Spirit of the Elements.
Curtain
SCENE 5
A subterranean rock-temple: a hidden site of the Mysteries of the
Hierophants.
At the right of the stage, Johannes is seen in deep meditation.
BENEDICTUS (in the East):
Ye, who have been companions unto me
In the domain of everlasting life,
Here in your midst I stand today to ask
The help of which I stand in need from you
To weave the thread of destiny for one,
Who from our midst must now receive the light.
Through bitter trials and sorrows hath he passed,
And hath in deepest agony of soul
Prepared the way to consecrate his life
And thus attain to knowledge of the truth.
Accomplished now the task assigned to me,
As spirit-messenger, to bring to men
The treasured wisdom of this temple's shrine.
And now, ye brethren, 'tis your sacred task
To bring my work to full accomplishment.
I showed to him the light that proved the guide
To his first vision of the spirit-world,
But that this vision may be turned to truth
Your work must needs be added unto mine.
My words proceed from mine own mouth alone,
But through your lips world-spirits do sound forth.
THEODOSIUS (in the South):
Thus speaks the power of love, which bindeth worlds
And filleth beings with the breath of life:--
Let warmth flow in his heart that he may grasp
How by the sacrificing of that vain
Illusion of his personality
He doth draw near the spirit of the world.
His sight from sleep of sense thou hast set free;
Love's warmth will wake the spirit in his soul:
His Self from carnal covering thou hast drawn;
And love itself will crystallize his soul
That it may be a mirror to reflect
All that doth happen in the spirit-world.
Love too will give him strength to feel himself
A spirit, and will fashion thus his ear
That it can hear and know the spirit-speech.
ROMANUS (in the West):
Nor are my words the revelation true
Of mine own self. Through me the world-will speaks.
And since thou hast thus raised unto the power
To live in spirit-realms the man to thee
Entrusted, now this power shall lead him forth
Beyond the bounds of space and ends of time.
To those realms shall he pass wherein do work
Creative spirits, who shall there reveal
Themselves to him; demanding from him deeds;
And willingly will he perform their work.
The purposes of Him who moulds the worlds
Shall fill his soul with life; there too the earth's
Primeval sources shall enspirit him;
World potencies shall there empower him;
The mights of spheres shall there enlighten him,
And rulers of the worlds fill him with fire.
RETARDUS (in the North):
From the foundation of the world ye have
Been forced to suffer me within your midst.
So must ye also to my words give ear
In your deliberations here today.
Some little time must surely yet elapse
Before ye can fulfil and bring to pass
What ye have set forth in such beauteous words.
No sign as yet hath come to us from earth
That she doth long for new initiates.
So long as this spot, where we council hold,
Hath not been trodden by the feet of those
Who, uninitiate still, cannot set free
Their spirit from realities of sense,
So long the task is mine to check your zeal.
First must they bring us message that the earth
Doth seem in need of revelations new.
For this cause hold I back your spirit-light
Within this temple, lest it may bring harm
Instead of health to souls that are not ripe.
Out of myself I give to man on earth
That faculty which lets the truths of sense
Appear to him the highest, just so long
As spirit wisdom would but blind his eyes.
Nay more, e'en such belief may also lead
Him nearer to the spirit, for the aims
Formed by his will may yet be guided right
Through his blind tastes and gropings in the dark.
ROMANUS:
From the foundation of the world we have
Been forced to suffer thee within our midst.
But now at length the time hath run its course
That was allotted to such work as thine.
The world-will in me feels that they approach--
(Felix Balde appears in his earthly shape: the Other Maria as a
soul-form from out of the rock.)
--Who, uninitiated, can release
The spirit from the outward show of sense.
No more 'tis granted thee to check our steps.
They near our temple of their own free will
And bring to thee this message, that they wish
To help our spirit labours, joined with us.
They found themselves till now not yet prepared
For union, since they clung to that belief
That seership's power with reason needs must part.
Now have they learned whither mankind is led
By reason, which, when severed from true sight,
Doth err and wander in the depths of worlds.
They now will speak to thee of fruits which needs
Must ripen through thy power in human souls.
RETARDUS:
Ye, who unconsciously have forwarded
My work till now, ye shall still further help--
If ye will distant keep from all that doth
Belong unto my realm and that alone.
Then shall ye surely find a place reserved
For you to work as hitherto ye worked.
FELIX BALDE:
A power, which speaks from very depths of earth
Unto my spirit, hath commanded me
To come unto this consecrated place;
Since it desires to speak to you through me
Of all its bitter sorrow and its need.
BENEDICTUS:
My friend, then tell us now how thou hast learned
The woe of world-depths in thine own soul's core.
FELIX BALDE:
The light that shines in men as learning's fruit
Must needs give nourishment to all the powers
Which serve world-cycles in the earth's dark depths.
Already now a long time have they starved
Well-nigh entirely reft of sustenance.
For that which grows today in human brains
Doth only serve the surface of the earth,
And doth not penetrate unto its depths.
Some strange new superstition now doth haunt
These clever human heads: they turn their gaze
Unto primeval origins of earth
And will but spectres see in spirit spheres,
Thought out by vain illusion of the sense.
A merchant surely would consider mad
A purchaser, who would speak thus to him:
'The mists and fog, that hover in the vale,
Can certainly condense to solid gold;
And with such gold thou shalt be paid thy debt.'
The merchant will not willingly await
To have his ducats made from fog and mist;
And yet whene'er his soul doth thirst to find
Solution of the riddles set by life,
Should science offer him such payments then
For spirit needs and debts, right willingly
Will he accept whole solar systems built
Out of primeval world-containing fog.
The teacher who discovers some unknown
And luckless layman, who hath raised himself
To heights of science or of scholarship
Without examinations duly passed
Will surely threaten him with his contempt.
Yet science doth not doubt that without proof
And without spirit earth's primeval beasts
Could change themselves to men by their own power.
THEODOSIUS:
Why dost thou not thyself reveal to men
The sources of this light of thine, which streams
Forth from thy soul with such resplendent ray?
FELIX BALDE:
A fancy-monger and a man of dreams
They call me, who are well-disposed to me:
But others think of me as some dull fool
Who, all untaught of them, doth follow out
His own peculiar bent of foolishness.
RETARDUS:
Thou show'st already how untaught thou art
By the simplicity of this thy speech:
Thou dost not know that men of science have
Sufficient shrewdness to make just the same
Objection to themselves as unto thee.
And if they make it not they know well why.
FELIX BALDE:
I know full well that they are shrewd enough
To understand objections they have made,
But not so shrewd as to believe in them.
THEODOSIUS:
What must we do that we may forthwith give
The powers of earth what they do need so much?
FELIX BALDE:
So long as on the earth men only heed
Such men as these, who wish not to recall
Their spirit's primal source, so long will starve
The mineral forces buried in earth's depths.
THE OTHER MARIA:
I gather, brother Felix, from thy words,
That thou dost think the time hath now expired
When we did serve earth's purposes the best
Through wisdom's light, ourselves unconsecrate--
When we showed forth from roots in our own life
The living way of spirit and of love.
In thee the spirits of the earth arose
To give thee light without the lore of books:
In me did love hold sway, the love that dwells
And works within the life of men on earth.
And now we wish to join our brethren here,--
Who, consecrate, within this temple serve,--
And bring forth fruitful work in human souls.
BENEDICTUS:
If ye unite your labour now with us,
Then must the consecrated work succeed.
The wisdom which I gave unto my son
Will surely blossom forth in him as power.
THEODOSIUS:
If ye unite your labour now with us,
Then must the thirst for sacrifice arise.
And through the soul life of whoever seeks
The spirit-path, will breathe the warmth of love.
ROMANUS:
If ye unite your labour now with us,
Then must the fruits of spirit ripen fast.
Deeds will spring up, which through the spirit's work
Will blossom from your soul's discipleship.
RETARDUS:
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:
See now then what result your weakness brings.
The brethren are approaching with those souls
In whom they will o'erthrow my power. E'en now
Johannes and Maria feel their might.
(Enter Benedictus with Lucifer and Ahriman; behind them Johannes
and Maria.)
BENEDICTUS (to Lucifer):
Johannes' and Maria's souls have now
No longer room for blind unseeing power:
To spirit-life they have been lifted up.
LUCIFER:
Then must I straightway from their souls depart.
The wisdom unto which they have attained,
Doth give them power to see me, and my sway
O'er souls of men doth only last so long
As I remain invisible to them.
Yet doth the power continue which hath been
From the creation of the worlds mine own.
And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet still
My power will cause within their spirit-life
Most beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.
BENEDICTUS (to Ahriman):
Johannes' and Maria's souls have now
Destroyed all error's darkness in themselves;
And spirit-sight hath been revealed to them.
AHRIMAN:
I must indeed renounce their spirits then;
For they will turn henceforth unto the light.
Yet one thing hath not yet been ta'en from me;
With sense-appearance to delight their souls.
And though no longer they will deem it truth,
Yet will they see how truth it doth reveal.
(Enter the Other Maria.)
THEODOSIUS (to the Other Maria):
Close intertwinéd was thy destiny
With thine exalted sister's loftier life:
The light of love I could impart to her:
But not the warmth of love, so long as thou
Didst always let thy noblest impulses
From dim sensations only rise in thee,
And didst not strive to see them clear and bold
In the full light of wisdom's certainty.
The influence of the Temple does not reach
Unto the nature of vague impulses,
E'en though such impulse wills to work for good.
THE OTHER MARIA:
I needs must recognize that noble thought
Can only work salvation in the light.
So to the temple I now wend my way.
My own emotion shall in future times
Not rob the light of love of its results.
THEODOSIUS:
Through this, thine insight, thou dost give me power
To make Maria's soul-light on the earth
Run smooth and evenly upon its path:
For aye aforetime it must lose its might
In souls, such as thine own was heretofore,
Which would not unify their light with love.
JOHANNES (to the Other Maria):
I see in thee the nature of that soul,
Which also holdeth sway within mine own.
I was unable to find out the way
Which led to thine exalted sister's soul
So long as in my heart the warmth of love
From love's light ever held itself apart.
The sacrifice which to the temple's shrine
Thou bring'st, shall be repeated in my soul.
Therein the warmth of love shall sacrifice
Itself unto love's wonder-working light.
MARIA:
Johannes, in the realm of spirit-life
Thou hast attained to knowledge through myself.
To spirit knowledge thou canst only add
True soul-existence, when thou findest too
Thine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.
(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)
PHILIA:
Then from the whole creation of the worlds
The joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.
ASTRID:
From thine whole being then can be outpoured
The light and radiance of the warmth of souls.
LUNA:
Then shalt thou dare to live out thine own self,
When such light can illuminate thy soul.
(Enter Felix and Felicia Balde.)
ROMANUS (to Felix Balde):
Long hast thou from the temple held thyself.
Thou only wouldst admit enlightenment,
When light from thine own soul revealed itself.
Men of thy nature rob me of the power
To give my light unto men's souls on earth.
They wish to draw from darksome depths alone,
What they should freely offer unto life.
FELIX BALDE:
Yet 'twas man's own illusion in itself,
That brought me light from out the darkest depths:
And let me to the temple find my way.
ROMANUS:
The fact that thou hast hither found thy way
Gives me the power to give light to the will
Of both Johannes and Maria here.
That it no more may follow forces blind,
But from world-aims henceforth direct itself.
MARIA:
Johannes, thou hast seen thine own self now
In spirit in myself. Thou shalt live out
Thine own existence as a spirit, when
The world's light can behold itself in thee.
JOHANNES (to Felix Balde):
In thee, good brother Felix, do I see
That soul-power which did hold my will fast bound
In its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the way
Unto the temple: with the strength of will
Within my spirit I would fain point out
The path unto the temple of the soul.
RETARDUS:
Johannes' and Maria's souls e'en now
Escape from my domain: how then shall they
Discover all that springs forth from my might?
So long as they did lack within their souls
The fundaments of learning, they did still
Find joy and pleasure in my gifts, but now
I see myself compelled to let them go.
FELICIA:
That man without thine aid, may fire himself
To rational thought, that have I shown to thee
From me a learning streams that dare bear fruit.
JOHANNES:
This learning shall be wedded to the light,
Which from this temple's source can fill men's souls.
RETARDUS:
Capesius, my son, thou art now lost.
Thou hast withdrawn thyself from my domain
Before the temple's light can shine for thee.
BENEDICTUS:
He hath begun the path. He feels the light.
And he will win the strength to search and know
In his own soul all that, which up till now
Good Dame Felicia hath produced for him.
STRADER:
Then I alone seem lost, for of myself
I cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;
And surely I shall never find again
The way that doth unto the temple lead.
THEODORA:
From out thine heart a glow of light spreads forth;
A human image now is born therefrom;
And I can hear the words, which do proceed
From this same human form. E'en thus they sound:
'I have achieved the power to reach the light.'
My friend, trust thou thyself! These very words,
When thy time is fulfilled, thyself shalt speak.
Curtain
THE SOUL'S PROBATION
SUMMARY OF THE SCENES
Scene 1: Capesius. His occult exercises and his despair.
Scene 2: Meditation chamber the same as Scenes 3 and 10 of Play
1. Benedictus warns Maria that Johannes must be free. She resolves
to look back upon past incarnations.
Scene 3: Johannes and his painting. Maria resolves not to hinder his
freedom by her love.
Scene 4: As Scene 1. Capesius and Strader.
Scene 5: Capesius at the Balde's cottage. Dame Felicia's
fable. Johannes and his double.
Scene 6: The 14th century. The meadows by the Castle of the Mystic
Knights. Country folk. The Jew. Thomas confesses to the Monk his love
for Keane's daughter.
Scene 7: Same period. The Interior of the Castle. The Grand Master
and Council. The Monk's demand. The apparition of his late Master,
Benedictus.
Scene 8: Same period. Keane has discovered that Thomas and his
sweetheart are the children of the 1st Preceptor and informs the 1st
Preceptor of the fact. The scene closes with a discussion on evolution,
and the inspired warning of the Second Master of Ceremonies.
Scene 9: Same period. The Keanes. Dame Keane's fable. The Country
folk. Thomas and Cecilia.
Scene 10: Scene same as Scene 5. The return to the present
day. Explanation of Scenes 6 to 9.
Scene 11: Meditation chamber as in Scene 2. Maria defeats Ahriman.
Scene 12: The same. Johannes and Lucifer.
Scene 13: The Temple of the Sun. Destiny.
PERSONS, FORMS, AND FEATURES
The spiritual and psychic experiences of the characters appearing in
this "Soul's Probation" are a continuation of the experiences given
in the scenes of "The Portal of Initiation," and the events related
occur several years later.
Benedictus }
Theodosius } Hierophants of the Temple of the Sun.
Romanus }
Professor Capesius.
Philia } The spiritual beings who facilitate the connection
Astrid } between the Soul and the Cosmos. They are not
Luna } allegorical, but are realities for the spirit Seer.
The Other Philia, The spiritual being who hinders the connection
between the Soul and the Cosmos.
The Voice of Conscience, not allegorical, but a reality, for the
spirit Seer.
Maria.
Johannes Thomasius.
Doctor Strader.
Felix Balde.
Felicia, his wife.
The 'Double' of Johannes Thomasius.
Lucifer.
Ahriman.
The events of the Sixth to the Ninth Scenes contain the spiritual
vision of Capesius into his former life. Maria and Johannes share
the experiences at the same time; but Strader's former incarnation
is only seen by Capesius, Maria, and Johannes.
These scenes back into the fourteenth century are conceived as
results of imaginative cognition, and in the physical world are only
recognizable by their effect. The way in which a life is repeated
(from occurrences of the fourteenth century into the present day)
should not be taken arbitrarily, but merely as what may happen at any
turning point of time. These conflicts and consequences of a former
life are only possible at such a time.
The Vision of Capesius into the Fourteenth Century
The Spirit of Benedictus.
The Grand Master, chief of a branch of mystic brotherhood.
First Preceptor, of the mystic brotherhood. (A former incarnation
of Professor Capesius.)
Second Preceptor, of the mystic brotherhood.
First Master of the Ceremonies, of the mystic brotherhood.
Second Master of the Ceremonies, of the mystic brotherhood.
Simon, the Jew (a former incarnation of Dr. Strader).
Thomas (a former incarnation of Johannes Thomasius).
A Monk (a former incarnation of Maria).
Joseph Keane (a former incarnation of Felix Balde).
His Wife (a former incarnation of Felicia Balde).
Bertha, their daughter (a former incarnation of the Other Maria).
Cecilia, their foster-daughter (a former incarnation of Theodora).
Six Country Men, and
Six Country Women.
Note on the Costumes Worn (see also notes to the "Portal of
Initiation"). The knights are in chain armour and dark blue robes of
their order, with a white Maltese cross on their mantle and on their
tunic. The mantle of the Grand Master is crimson; his tunic is white
with a red cross. Their blue caps and the Grand Master's red cap
are flat and triangular. The apparition of Benedictus in Scene 7,
is in pink peach blossom colour. He appears in the background about
nine feet above the stage and remains rigid with his arms extended
in cross fashion the whole time of his appearance in this scene.
THE SOUL'S PROBATION
SCENE 1
The library and study of Capesius. Prevailing colour brown.
Evening. First Capesius, then the Spirit-Forms who are powers
of soul; later Benedictus.
CAPESIUS (reading in a book):
'By inward gazing on the Beingless,
And dreaming through the shadowy picture realm
Of thought, conformably to self-made laws:--
Thus erring human nature often seeks
To find the meaning and the goal of life:
The soul from its own depths would draw replies
To questions that concern the universe.
Yet such attempts are vain, illusory
E'en at the outset, and they lead at last
To feeble visions which destroy themselves.'
(Speaking as follows.)
Thus is portrayed in words of import grave
Through Benedictus' noble spirit-sight,
The inward life of many human souls.
Each phrase goes home destructive to my heart--
Unfolding truly mine own way and life
Until this day, with cruel vividness.
And should a god this very hour appear
Descending on me in a raging storm
And clad in wrath, yet could his threatening might
Not torture me with more appalling fears
Than do the Master's words, as strong as fate.
Long hath my life been, but its web displays
Nothing but pictures shadowy and dim
Which haunt my dreaming soul and fondly strive
To mirror truths of nature and of mind.
With this dream-fabric hath my thought essayed
To solve the riddle of the universe.
Down many a path my restless soul I turned.
Yet do I clearly see that I myself,
Was not the active master of my soul
When threads of thought along illusion's path
Spun themselves out to cosmic distances.
So that which I in my content beheld
In pictures, left me empty, led to naught.
Then came across my path Thomasius,
The youthful painter. He indeed strode on,
Upheld by truest energies of soul
To that exalted spiritual way
Which transforms human life, and makes to rise
From hidden gulfs of soul the energy
Which feeds the springs of life within ourselves.
That which awoke from out his inmost soul
Abides in every man. And since from him
I gained this revelation, I do count
As chief amongst the many sins of life
To let the spirit's treasure grow corrupt.
I know henceforth that I must search and seek
And nevermore allow myself to doubt.
In days gone by my vanity of thought
Could have enticed me to the false belief
That unto knowledge man aspires in vain;
And only failure and despair belong
To those who would lay bare the springs of life.
And were all wisdom to unite in this,
And were I powerless to reject the claim
That human destiny demands of man
That he shall lose his individual self
And sink into the gulf of nothingness,
Yet would I make the venture unafraid.
Such thoughts would be a sacrilege today,
Since I have learned I cannot win repose
Until the spirit treasure in my soul
Hath been unveiléd to the light of day.
The fruits of work of spirit-entities
Have been implanted in the human soul,
And whoso leaves the spirit seed to lie
Unheeded and decay, he brings to nought
The work divine committed unto man.
Thus do I recognize life's highest task;
Yet when I try to take one single step
Across the threshold that I dare not shun,
I feel my strength desert me, which of yore
Did pride itself on elevated thought,
And sought the goals of life in time and space.
Once did I reckon it an easy thing
To set the brain in action and to grasp
The nature of reality by thought.
But now, when I would search the fount of life
And comprehend it as in truth it is,
My thought appears as some blunt instrument;
I have no power, no matter how I strive,
To form a clear thought-image from the words
Of Benedictus, though his earnest speech,
Should now direct me to the spirit's path.
(Resuming his reading.)
'In silence sound the depths of thine own soul,
And ever let strong courage be thy guide.
Thy former ways of thinking cast away
What time thou dost withdraw into thyself;
For only when thine own light is put out
Will spirit-radiance show itself to thee.'
(Resuming his soliloquy.)
It seems as though I could not draw my breath
When I attempt to understand these words.
And ere I feel the thoughts that I must think,
Fear and misgiving have beset my soul.
It is borne in on me that everything
Which hitherto was my environment
Is crumbling into ruin, and therewith
I too am crumbling into nothingness.
An hundred times at least have I perused
The words which follow, and each several time
Darkness enfolds me deeper than before.
(Resuming his reading.)
'Within thy thinking cosmic thought doth live,
Within thy feeling cosmic forces play,
Within thy will do cosmic beings work;
Abandon thou thyself to cosmic thought,
Experience thyself through cosmic force,
Create thyself anew from cosmic will.
End not at last in cosmic distances
By fantasies of dreamy thought beguiled.
Do thou begin in farthest spirit-realms
And end in the recesses of thy soul.
The plan divine then shalt thou recognize
When thou hast realized thy Self in thee.'
(Becomes entranced by a vision, then comes to himself and speaks.)
What was this?
(Three Figures, representing soul-forces, float round him.)
LUNA:
Abundant power is thine
For lofty spirit-flight;
Its sure foundation rests
Upon the human will.
Its temper hath been tried
By sure and certain hope.
It hath grown strong as steel
By sight of future times.
Thou dost but courage lack
To pour into thy will
Thy confidence in life.
Into the vast Unknown
Dare but to venture forth!
ASTRID:
From cosmic distances
And from the sun's glad light,
From utmost realms of stars
And magic might of worlds,
From heaven's ethereal blue
And spirit's lofty power,
Win mightiness of soul;
And send its radiant beams
Deep down within thine heart;
That knowledge glowing warm
May thus be born in thee.
THE OTHER PHILIA:
They are deceiving thee
This evil sisterhood;
They seek but to ensnare
By trickery and guile.
The gifts so seeming fair
Which they have offered thee
Will vanish into air
When thou wouldst hold them fast
With all thy human strength.
They lead thee on to worlds
Inhabited by gods,
Where thou wilt be destroyed
If, once within their realm,
Thou strivest to o'ercome
By human strength alone.
CAPESIUS:
It was quite plain that here some beings spake--
And yet it is most sure that no one else--
Beside myself--is present in this place.
So have I but held converse with myself
And yet that too seems quite impossible--
For ne'er could I imagine such discourse
As here I listened to....
Am I still he
I was before?
(From his gestures it is plain he feels unable to reply 'yes.')
Oh! I am--I am not.
THE SPIRIT-VOICE OF CONSCIENCE:
Thy thoughts do now descend
To depths of human life
And what as soul doth compass thee around
And what as spirit is enchained in thee,
Is lost in cosmic depth,
From whose fulness quaffing
Mankind doth live in thought;
From whose fulness living
Mankind illusion weaves.
CAPESIUS:
Enough.... Enough.... Where is Capesius?
You I implore ... ye forces all unknown....
Where is Capesius? Where is ... myself?
(Once more he relapses into a reverie.)
(Enter Benedictus. Capesius does not notice him at first. Benedictus
touches him on the shoulder.)
BENEDICTUS:
I learned that thou didst wish to speak with me,
And so I came to seek thee in thy home.
CAPESIUS:
Right good it is of thee to grant my wish.
Yet it had scarce been possible that thou
Shouldst find me in worse case than now I am.
That I am not this moment on the ground
Prostrate before thy feet, after such pain
As even now hath racked my soul, I owe
To thy kind glance alone which sought mine own,
So soon as thou didst with thy gentle touch
Arouse me from the horrors of my dream.
BENEDICTUS:
I am aware that I have found thee now
Fighting a battle for thy very life.
Since I have known full well this long time past
That thus it was appointed us to meet.
Prepare to change the sense of many words
If thou wouldst understand my speech aright
And do not marvel that thy present pain
Bears in my language quite another name--
I call thy state good fortune.
CAPESIUS:
Then indeed
Thou dost but heap the measure of the woe
Which casts me into gloom's abysmal depths.
Just now I felt as if my real self
Had flown afar to cosmic distances,
And unfamiliar beings through its sheaths
Were speaking here. But this I took to be
Hallucination, spirit mockery,
And mourned that thus my soul could be deceived:
This thought alone kept me from breaking down.
Take not away my right thus to believe,
The only prop I lean on; tell me not
My fevered dreaming was good fortune; else
I shall be lost indeed.
BENEDICTUS:
A man can lose
Nought else but that which keeps him separate
From cosmic being. When he seems to lose
That which in dreamy fantasies of thought
He misapplied to labours purposeless,
Then let him seek for what has gone from him.
For he will surely find it, and withal
The proper use to which it should be put
In human life. Mere words of comfort now
Were nothing more than clever play on words.
CAPESIUS:
Nay--lore that may by simple human wit
Be comprehended thou dost not impart.
Bitter experience has shown me this.
Like deeds which lead one on to lofty heights
And also cast one to abysmal depths,
Thy counsels pour a stream of fiery life
And also deathly chill into men's souls.
They work at once e'en as the nod of fate
And also as a storm of living love.
Much had I sought and thought in earlier days
Before I met thee; yet the spirit's powers,
Creative and destructive, I have learned
Only since I have followed in thy steps.
The turmoil and confusion of my soul,
Caused by thy words, was evident when thou
Didst come within my chamber. Oft I felt
Much pain whilst reading in thy book of life,
Until today my cup of woe was full.
And so my agony of soul o'erflowed,
Spilled by thy fateful words. Their meaning swept
O'er all my soul unrecognized, and yet
Like some elixir they revived my heart.
In such wise wrought they in the magic worlds
That all my clarity of sense was lost.
Then ghostly phantoms made a mock of me,
And words of import dark I seemed to hear
Issue from my distraught tormented soul.
I know that all the secrets thou dost guard
For human souls may not be written down,
But that the answer to men's doubts may be
Revealed to each according to his need.
So grant me that of which I stand in need;
For verily I must indeed be told
What robbed me of my senses and my wits
And compassed me with magic's airy spells.
BENEDICTUS:
Another meaning hides within my words
Than that of the ideas which they convey;
They guide the natural forces of the soul
To spirit-verities; their inward sense
Cannot be understood until the day
On which they waken vision in the soul
That yields itself to their compelling power.
They are not fruitage of mine own research;
But spirits have entrusted them to me,
Spirits well skilled to read the signs in which
The Karma of the world doth stand revealed.
The special virtue of these words is this,
Unto the source of knowledge they can guide.
Yet none the less it must be each man's task,
Who understands them in their truest sense,
To drink the spirit-waters from that source.
Nor are my words designed to hinder thee
From being swept away to worlds that seem
To thee fantastic. Thou hast seen a realm
Which must remain illusion just as long
As thou dost lose thyself on entering it.
But wisdom's outer portal will be found
Unsealed to thine advancing soul so soon
As thou dost near it with self-consciousness.
CAPESIUS:
And how can I maintain self-consciousness?
BENEDICTUS:
The answer to this riddle thou shalt find
When, with awakened inner eye, thou dost
Perceive before thee many wondrous things,
Which shortly will be found to cross thy path.
Know that a test hath been ordained for thee
By lords of fate and by the spirit-powers.
(Exit.)
CAPESIUS:
Although their meaning is not clear to me
I feel his words at work within myself.
He hath appointed me a goal; and I
Am ready to obey. He doth not ask
For stress of thought; it seems that he desires
I should press forward with exploring feet
To find the spirit-verities myself.
I cannot tell how he was sent to me;
And yet his actions have compelled my trust;
He hath restored me to myself once more.
So though at present I may not divine
The nature of the spell that shook me so,
I will not shrink from facing these events
Which his prophetic vision hath foretold.
Curtain whilst Capesius remains standing