Interlude

InterludeScene: 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 Soultouched 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 doubthis 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 onecarries 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 worksof 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 itselfbeyond 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.CurtainScene 8Same 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 meThy nature to interpret through mine art.Capesius:This picture is a marvel unto meAnd its creator a still greater one.For naught, which men like me have up till nowConsidered possible, can be comparedWith this change that hath taken place in thee.One only can believe, when actual sightCompels belief. We met three years ago;And I was then allowed to count myselfA 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 theretoWords that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.I spake in such a mood wherein one dothThink almost always of oneself alone;And none the less my gaze did ever restUpon 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 notA single word of all those spoken near.The sorrow unto which he gave himselfSeemed 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 inappropriateTo 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 yearsWith utmost diligence absorbed thyselfIn all I had to say on world events.And, as we grew more intimate, I thenDid know the riddle of thine artist life,And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.My thought in former days was ill-inclinedTo soar to worlds beyond the life of sense—Not that I doubted them—but yet it seemedPresumptuous to draw near with eager mind.But now I must admit that them hast changedMy point of view. I hear thee oft repeatThat thine artistic skill depends aloneUpon the gift to function consciouslyIn other worlds; and that thou canst implantNaught in thy work but what thou hast first seenIn spirit worlds: indeed thy works do showHow spirit stands revealed in actual life.Strader:Never so little have I understoodThy speech; for surely in all artists’ workThe 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 showsItself in man, who none the less remainsUnconscious of its nature. He createsThrough this same spirit, but perceives it not.Thomasius however doth createIn worlds of sense what he in spirit-realmsCan consciously behold; and many timesHath 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 hereHath first revealed to me in his true selfCapesius, whom I thought I knew full well.In thought I knew him; but his work doth showHow little of him I had really known.Maria:How comes it, doctor, that thou canst admireThe greatness of this work so much, and yetCanst still deny the greatness of its source?Strader:What hath my wonder at the artist’s workIn common with my faith in spirit-sight?Maria:One can indeed admire a work, e’en whenOne hath no faith in that which is its source;Yet in this case there would be naught to rouseOur admiration, had this artist notTrodden the path that led to spirit-life.Strader:Yet still we must not say that whosoe’erDoth to the spirit wholly give himselfWill 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 workAnd 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 gleamFrom 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 streamFrom all the colour-tones with which thy brushHath solved the mystery of portraiture.Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!And yet they are not; they seem visibleOnly to vanish straightway from my sight.The moulding too doth seem like colour’s work;And yet it tells of spirit intertwinedIn every line, and many things besides,That are not of itself.—Where then is thatWhereof 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 hereThat 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 throughTo find what I must seek within its depths;To find where I may grasp all that which streamsFrom this same picture into my soul’s core.Imustattain it.—Oh—deluded fool!It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,A ghost I cannot see, nor have I powerWhich 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 lostThe thinker’s peace of mind. Consider now,If from this picture some ghost speaks to theeThen 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 upraisedFar, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,Even as I myself full oft have felt.At such times, howsoe’er one feels oneselfStrong-armoured at all points with logic’s might,One can but be convinced that one is seizedBy some strange power that can have originNot in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.Who hath endowed this picture with such power?To me it seems the symbol in sense-lifeOf 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 pierceThrough sense-appearance unto spirit-self.With his developed sight he penetratesTo spirit verity; and thus for meThose ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’In new light do appear. To know ourselvesE’en as we are, we must first find that powerWithin ourselves, which, as true spirit, dothConceal itself from us in our own selves.Maria:We must, to find ourselves, that power unfoldWhich 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 ThomasiusHath 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 lifeKnowledge doth differ.Capesius:Knowledge doth differ.So would I maintain.Strader:If matters thus do stand, then is all thoughtNothing: all learning but illusory;And every moment I must lose myself.…Oh, do leave me alone.…(Exit.)Capesius:Oh, do leave me alone....I’ll go with him.(Exit.)Maria:Capesius is nearer far todayTo spirit lore, than he himself doth think;And Strader suffers deeply. What his soulSo hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.Johannes:The inner nature of these two did standAlready then before my spirit’s eyeWhen first I dared to tread the realm of souls.As a young man I saw Capesius,And Strader in the years he hath not reachedBy some long span as yet. CapesiusDid show a youthful promise which concealsMuch that this life will not allow to comeTo due fruition in the realms of sense.I was attracted to his inner self:In his soul’s essence I could first beholdWhat is the essential kernel of a man;And how a man’s peculiaritiesIn earthly life do manifest themselvesAs 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 selvesWith my soul’s vision, yet I did perceiveWithin his nature that which could not riseFrom 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 heUnfolded in his former lives on earth.If thus I have revealed his inmost self,My picture will have served the aim, which IDid purpose for it in my thought: for asA work of art I do not rate it high.Maria:It will confirm its work within that soulWhich it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.Curtain falls whilst Maria and Johannes are still in the roomScene 9Same region as in Scene 2. From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself.’Johannes:O man, feel thou thyself! For three long yearsI have sought strength of soul, with courage winged,Which doth give truth unto these words, wherebyA man may free himself to conquer first;Then conquering himself may freedom findThrough 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 mysteriouslyBuilds his proud body from an acorn small.Spirit can cause to live in its own selfAll 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 holdOf 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 speaksAround 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 heartThrough 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 restWithin 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 strengthTo live this other self in its own self.Oh hopeful words, ye stream forth strength to meFrom 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 yetYe place me near the highest aims of gods;And blissfully I feel creative powerFrom these high aims in my weak, earthly form.And out of mine own Self shall stand revealedThose powers, whereof the germ lies hid in me.And I will give myself unto the worldBy 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 fireIn my soul-powers and on my spirit-paths.I feel how now my very thought doth pierceTo deep-concealed foundations of the world;And how it streams through them with radiant light.E’en thus doth work the fructifying powerOf 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.’)Who conquered self.That being do I seeWhom I would fain be like in future times.The spirit in me shall grow free, through theeSublime 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 powerOf these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From springs and rocks resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)Johannes:Thou here, my friend?Maria:Thou here, my friend?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 lifeAllows its light to shine forth in my soul.Johannes:Maria, then thou also art awareOf 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 everywhereLies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)CurtainScene 10A 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’erIt gives itself to give another joy.Thus do I work with true creative joyTo 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 strengthDoth feel creative joy, when I beholdThee as the fruit of self-experience.Within the temple to my spirit’s eyeOnce didst thou show thyself, yet at that timeI 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 strengthTo turn my spirit’s sight unto thy world.Theodosius:Feel me in thy soul-depths, and bear my powerTo all the worlds. Thus, serving Love’s behestsThou 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 returnAnd 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 receiveThe 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 twainWhate’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 artSome vain illusion. Oh, revive in meYe good powers of my soul, and straightway crushThis 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 thenEnter that way, which to my temple leads.And if my wisdom is to guide thee stillTo loftier heights, it must flow from that spotWhere with my brethren close conjoined I work.The strength of truth I gave to thee myself;And if this kindles power from its own fireWithin thyself, then shalt thou find the way.(Exit.)Johannes:Oh, he doth leave me. How shall I decideWhether 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 putWithin 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 mustProceed from out the temple’s shrine alone,Since Benedictus’ brother uttered you.I feel already how ye mount withinMine inmost being.Mine inmost being.Soon shall ye resoundFrom out my very Self, that I may readYour meaning rightly. Spirit, that doth dwellWithin 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 proveThine own existence; and to find thyselfWas thy reward. So now use this reward.In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.In the wide realms on high a being strangeThou shalt discover, who to human lotWill 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 destroyThe power of being, and thou canst misuseThe 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 aroseFrom 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 meOnly those powers, which in the souls of menDo but create illusion and deceit?(The following is a spirit voice coming from the heights.)Spirit:To founts of world primevalThy 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.CurtainScene 11The 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 youYe have administered with ill success.I call you now before my judgment seat.To thee, Capesius, I did entrustFull measure of the spirit, that ideasOf 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 directInto those gatherings of men, whereinThou didst Johannes and Maria meet.Their tendency towards the spirit-sightThou shouldst have superseded by the powerWhich thy words should have exercised on them.Instead of that thou didst thyself give upUnto the influence which flows from them.—And to thee, Strader, did I show the wayThat leads to scientific certainty.Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroyThe 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 truthNow 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 inspiredThe souls of men at this time or at that:But yet it was impossible for meTo 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 tooWas 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 lessFelt other powers continually arise.Retardus:See now then what result your weakness brings.The brethren are approaching with those soulsIn whom they will o’erthrow my power. E’en nowJohannes 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 nowNo 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 swayO’er souls of men doth only last so longAs I remain invisible to them.Yet doth the power continue which hath beenFrom the creation of the worlds mine own.And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet stillMy power will cause within their spirit-lifeMost beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.Benedictus(to Ahriman):Johannes’ and Maria’s souls have nowDestroyed 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 destinyWith thine exalted sister’s loftier life:The light of love I could impart to her:But not the warmth of love, so long as thouDidst always let thy noblest impulsesFrom dim sensations only rise in thee,And didst not strive to see them clear and boldIn the full light of wisdom’s certainty.The influence of the Temple does not reachUnto the nature of vague impulses,E’en though such impulse wills to work for good.The Other Maria:I needs must recognize that noble thoughtCan only work salvation in the light.So to the temple I now wend my way.My own emotion shall in future timesNot rob the light of love of its results.Theodosius:Through this, thine insight, thou dost give me powerTo make Maria’s soul-light on the earthRun smooth and evenly upon its path:For aye aforetime it must lose its mightIn 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 wayWhich led to thine exalted sister’s soulSo long as in my heart the warmth of loveFrom love’s light ever held itself apart.The sacrifice which to the temple’s shrineThou bring’st, shall be repeated in my soul.Therein the warmth of love shall sacrificeItself unto love’s wonder-working light.Maria:Johannes, in the realm of spirit-lifeThou hast attained to knowledge through myself.To spirit knowledge thou canst only addTrue soul-existence, when thou findest tooThine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)Philia:Then from the whole creation of the worldsThe joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.Astrid:From thine whole being then can be outpouredThe 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 powerTo 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 wayGives me the power to give light to the willOf 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 nowIn spirit in myself. Thou shalt live outThine own existence as a spirit, whenThe world’s light can behold itself in thee.Johannes(to Felix Balde):In thee, good brother Felix, do I seeThat soul-power which did hold my will fast boundIn its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the wayUnto the temple: with the strength of willWithin my spirit I would fain point outThe path unto the temple of the soul.Retardus:Johannes’ and Maria’s souls e’en nowEscape from my domain: how then shall theyDiscover all that springs forth from my might?So long as they did lack within their soulsThe fundaments of learning, they did stillFind joy and pleasure in my gifts, but nowI see myself compelled to let them go.Felicia:That man without thine aid, may fire himselfTo rational thought, that have I shown to theeFrom 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 domainBefore 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 knowIn his own soul all that, which up till nowGood Dame Felicia hath produced for him.Strader:Then I alone seem lost, for of myselfI cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;And surely I shall never find againThe 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 proceedFrom 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

InterludeScene: 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 Soultouched 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 doubthis 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 onecarries 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 worksof 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 itselfbeyond 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.CurtainScene 8Same 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 meThy nature to interpret through mine art.Capesius:This picture is a marvel unto meAnd its creator a still greater one.For naught, which men like me have up till nowConsidered possible, can be comparedWith this change that hath taken place in thee.One only can believe, when actual sightCompels belief. We met three years ago;And I was then allowed to count myselfA 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 theretoWords that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.I spake in such a mood wherein one dothThink almost always of oneself alone;And none the less my gaze did ever restUpon 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 notA single word of all those spoken near.The sorrow unto which he gave himselfSeemed 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 inappropriateTo 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 yearsWith utmost diligence absorbed thyselfIn all I had to say on world events.And, as we grew more intimate, I thenDid know the riddle of thine artist life,And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.My thought in former days was ill-inclinedTo soar to worlds beyond the life of sense—Not that I doubted them—but yet it seemedPresumptuous to draw near with eager mind.But now I must admit that them hast changedMy point of view. I hear thee oft repeatThat thine artistic skill depends aloneUpon the gift to function consciouslyIn other worlds; and that thou canst implantNaught in thy work but what thou hast first seenIn spirit worlds: indeed thy works do showHow spirit stands revealed in actual life.Strader:Never so little have I understoodThy speech; for surely in all artists’ workThe 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 showsItself in man, who none the less remainsUnconscious of its nature. He createsThrough this same spirit, but perceives it not.Thomasius however doth createIn worlds of sense what he in spirit-realmsCan consciously behold; and many timesHath 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 hereHath first revealed to me in his true selfCapesius, whom I thought I knew full well.In thought I knew him; but his work doth showHow little of him I had really known.Maria:How comes it, doctor, that thou canst admireThe greatness of this work so much, and yetCanst still deny the greatness of its source?Strader:What hath my wonder at the artist’s workIn common with my faith in spirit-sight?Maria:One can indeed admire a work, e’en whenOne hath no faith in that which is its source;Yet in this case there would be naught to rouseOur admiration, had this artist notTrodden the path that led to spirit-life.Strader:Yet still we must not say that whosoe’erDoth to the spirit wholly give himselfWill 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 workAnd 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 gleamFrom 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 streamFrom all the colour-tones with which thy brushHath solved the mystery of portraiture.Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!And yet they are not; they seem visibleOnly to vanish straightway from my sight.The moulding too doth seem like colour’s work;And yet it tells of spirit intertwinedIn every line, and many things besides,That are not of itself.—Where then is thatWhereof 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 hereThat 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 throughTo find what I must seek within its depths;To find where I may grasp all that which streamsFrom this same picture into my soul’s core.Imustattain it.—Oh—deluded fool!It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,A ghost I cannot see, nor have I powerWhich 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 lostThe thinker’s peace of mind. Consider now,If from this picture some ghost speaks to theeThen 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 upraisedFar, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,Even as I myself full oft have felt.At such times, howsoe’er one feels oneselfStrong-armoured at all points with logic’s might,One can but be convinced that one is seizedBy some strange power that can have originNot in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.Who hath endowed this picture with such power?To me it seems the symbol in sense-lifeOf 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 pierceThrough sense-appearance unto spirit-self.With his developed sight he penetratesTo spirit verity; and thus for meThose ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’In new light do appear. To know ourselvesE’en as we are, we must first find that powerWithin ourselves, which, as true spirit, dothConceal itself from us in our own selves.Maria:We must, to find ourselves, that power unfoldWhich 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 ThomasiusHath 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 lifeKnowledge doth differ.Capesius:Knowledge doth differ.So would I maintain.Strader:If matters thus do stand, then is all thoughtNothing: all learning but illusory;And every moment I must lose myself.…Oh, do leave me alone.…(Exit.)Capesius:Oh, do leave me alone....I’ll go with him.(Exit.)Maria:Capesius is nearer far todayTo spirit lore, than he himself doth think;And Strader suffers deeply. What his soulSo hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.Johannes:The inner nature of these two did standAlready then before my spirit’s eyeWhen first I dared to tread the realm of souls.As a young man I saw Capesius,And Strader in the years he hath not reachedBy some long span as yet. CapesiusDid show a youthful promise which concealsMuch that this life will not allow to comeTo due fruition in the realms of sense.I was attracted to his inner self:In his soul’s essence I could first beholdWhat is the essential kernel of a man;And how a man’s peculiaritiesIn earthly life do manifest themselvesAs 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 selvesWith my soul’s vision, yet I did perceiveWithin his nature that which could not riseFrom 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 heUnfolded in his former lives on earth.If thus I have revealed his inmost self,My picture will have served the aim, which IDid purpose for it in my thought: for asA work of art I do not rate it high.Maria:It will confirm its work within that soulWhich it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.Curtain falls whilst Maria and Johannes are still in the roomScene 9Same region as in Scene 2. From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself.’Johannes:O man, feel thou thyself! For three long yearsI have sought strength of soul, with courage winged,Which doth give truth unto these words, wherebyA man may free himself to conquer first;Then conquering himself may freedom findThrough 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 mysteriouslyBuilds his proud body from an acorn small.Spirit can cause to live in its own selfAll 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 holdOf 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 speaksAround 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 heartThrough 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 restWithin 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 strengthTo live this other self in its own self.Oh hopeful words, ye stream forth strength to meFrom 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 yetYe place me near the highest aims of gods;And blissfully I feel creative powerFrom these high aims in my weak, earthly form.And out of mine own Self shall stand revealedThose powers, whereof the germ lies hid in me.And I will give myself unto the worldBy 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 fireIn my soul-powers and on my spirit-paths.I feel how now my very thought doth pierceTo deep-concealed foundations of the world;And how it streams through them with radiant light.E’en thus doth work the fructifying powerOf 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.’)Who conquered self.That being do I seeWhom I would fain be like in future times.The spirit in me shall grow free, through theeSublime 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 powerOf these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From springs and rocks resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)Johannes:Thou here, my friend?Maria:Thou here, my friend?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 lifeAllows its light to shine forth in my soul.Johannes:Maria, then thou also art awareOf 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 everywhereLies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)CurtainScene 10A 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’erIt gives itself to give another joy.Thus do I work with true creative joyTo 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 strengthDoth feel creative joy, when I beholdThee as the fruit of self-experience.Within the temple to my spirit’s eyeOnce didst thou show thyself, yet at that timeI 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 strengthTo turn my spirit’s sight unto thy world.Theodosius:Feel me in thy soul-depths, and bear my powerTo all the worlds. Thus, serving Love’s behestsThou 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 returnAnd 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 receiveThe 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 twainWhate’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 artSome vain illusion. Oh, revive in meYe good powers of my soul, and straightway crushThis 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 thenEnter that way, which to my temple leads.And if my wisdom is to guide thee stillTo loftier heights, it must flow from that spotWhere with my brethren close conjoined I work.The strength of truth I gave to thee myself;And if this kindles power from its own fireWithin thyself, then shalt thou find the way.(Exit.)Johannes:Oh, he doth leave me. How shall I decideWhether 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 putWithin 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 mustProceed from out the temple’s shrine alone,Since Benedictus’ brother uttered you.I feel already how ye mount withinMine inmost being.Mine inmost being.Soon shall ye resoundFrom out my very Self, that I may readYour meaning rightly. Spirit, that doth dwellWithin 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 proveThine own existence; and to find thyselfWas thy reward. So now use this reward.In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.In the wide realms on high a being strangeThou shalt discover, who to human lotWill 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 destroyThe power of being, and thou canst misuseThe 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 aroseFrom 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 meOnly those powers, which in the souls of menDo but create illusion and deceit?(The following is a spirit voice coming from the heights.)Spirit:To founts of world primevalThy 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.CurtainScene 11The 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 youYe have administered with ill success.I call you now before my judgment seat.To thee, Capesius, I did entrustFull measure of the spirit, that ideasOf 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 directInto those gatherings of men, whereinThou didst Johannes and Maria meet.Their tendency towards the spirit-sightThou shouldst have superseded by the powerWhich thy words should have exercised on them.Instead of that thou didst thyself give upUnto the influence which flows from them.—And to thee, Strader, did I show the wayThat leads to scientific certainty.Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroyThe 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 truthNow 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 inspiredThe souls of men at this time or at that:But yet it was impossible for meTo 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 tooWas 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 lessFelt other powers continually arise.Retardus:See now then what result your weakness brings.The brethren are approaching with those soulsIn whom they will o’erthrow my power. E’en nowJohannes 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 nowNo 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 swayO’er souls of men doth only last so longAs I remain invisible to them.Yet doth the power continue which hath beenFrom the creation of the worlds mine own.And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet stillMy power will cause within their spirit-lifeMost beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.Benedictus(to Ahriman):Johannes’ and Maria’s souls have nowDestroyed 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 destinyWith thine exalted sister’s loftier life:The light of love I could impart to her:But not the warmth of love, so long as thouDidst always let thy noblest impulsesFrom dim sensations only rise in thee,And didst not strive to see them clear and boldIn the full light of wisdom’s certainty.The influence of the Temple does not reachUnto the nature of vague impulses,E’en though such impulse wills to work for good.The Other Maria:I needs must recognize that noble thoughtCan only work salvation in the light.So to the temple I now wend my way.My own emotion shall in future timesNot rob the light of love of its results.Theodosius:Through this, thine insight, thou dost give me powerTo make Maria’s soul-light on the earthRun smooth and evenly upon its path:For aye aforetime it must lose its mightIn 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 wayWhich led to thine exalted sister’s soulSo long as in my heart the warmth of loveFrom love’s light ever held itself apart.The sacrifice which to the temple’s shrineThou bring’st, shall be repeated in my soul.Therein the warmth of love shall sacrificeItself unto love’s wonder-working light.Maria:Johannes, in the realm of spirit-lifeThou hast attained to knowledge through myself.To spirit knowledge thou canst only addTrue soul-existence, when thou findest tooThine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)Philia:Then from the whole creation of the worldsThe joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.Astrid:From thine whole being then can be outpouredThe 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 powerTo 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 wayGives me the power to give light to the willOf 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 nowIn spirit in myself. Thou shalt live outThine own existence as a spirit, whenThe world’s light can behold itself in thee.Johannes(to Felix Balde):In thee, good brother Felix, do I seeThat soul-power which did hold my will fast boundIn its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the wayUnto the temple: with the strength of willWithin my spirit I would fain point outThe path unto the temple of the soul.Retardus:Johannes’ and Maria’s souls e’en nowEscape from my domain: how then shall theyDiscover all that springs forth from my might?So long as they did lack within their soulsThe fundaments of learning, they did stillFind joy and pleasure in my gifts, but nowI see myself compelled to let them go.Felicia:That man without thine aid, may fire himselfTo rational thought, that have I shown to theeFrom 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 domainBefore 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 knowIn his own soul all that, which up till nowGood Dame Felicia hath produced for him.Strader:Then I alone seem lost, for of myselfI cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;And surely I shall never find againThe 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 proceedFrom 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

InterludeScene: 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 Soultouched 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 doubthis 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 onecarries 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 worksof 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 itselfbeyond 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.CurtainScene 8Same 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 meThy nature to interpret through mine art.Capesius:This picture is a marvel unto meAnd its creator a still greater one.For naught, which men like me have up till nowConsidered possible, can be comparedWith this change that hath taken place in thee.One only can believe, when actual sightCompels belief. We met three years ago;And I was then allowed to count myselfA 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 theretoWords that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.I spake in such a mood wherein one dothThink almost always of oneself alone;And none the less my gaze did ever restUpon 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 notA single word of all those spoken near.The sorrow unto which he gave himselfSeemed 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 inappropriateTo 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 yearsWith utmost diligence absorbed thyselfIn all I had to say on world events.And, as we grew more intimate, I thenDid know the riddle of thine artist life,And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.My thought in former days was ill-inclinedTo soar to worlds beyond the life of sense—Not that I doubted them—but yet it seemedPresumptuous to draw near with eager mind.But now I must admit that them hast changedMy point of view. I hear thee oft repeatThat thine artistic skill depends aloneUpon the gift to function consciouslyIn other worlds; and that thou canst implantNaught in thy work but what thou hast first seenIn spirit worlds: indeed thy works do showHow spirit stands revealed in actual life.Strader:Never so little have I understoodThy speech; for surely in all artists’ workThe 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 showsItself in man, who none the less remainsUnconscious of its nature. He createsThrough this same spirit, but perceives it not.Thomasius however doth createIn worlds of sense what he in spirit-realmsCan consciously behold; and many timesHath 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 hereHath first revealed to me in his true selfCapesius, whom I thought I knew full well.In thought I knew him; but his work doth showHow little of him I had really known.Maria:How comes it, doctor, that thou canst admireThe greatness of this work so much, and yetCanst still deny the greatness of its source?Strader:What hath my wonder at the artist’s workIn common with my faith in spirit-sight?Maria:One can indeed admire a work, e’en whenOne hath no faith in that which is its source;Yet in this case there would be naught to rouseOur admiration, had this artist notTrodden the path that led to spirit-life.Strader:Yet still we must not say that whosoe’erDoth to the spirit wholly give himselfWill 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 workAnd 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 gleamFrom 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 streamFrom all the colour-tones with which thy brushHath solved the mystery of portraiture.Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!And yet they are not; they seem visibleOnly to vanish straightway from my sight.The moulding too doth seem like colour’s work;And yet it tells of spirit intertwinedIn every line, and many things besides,That are not of itself.—Where then is thatWhereof 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 hereThat 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 throughTo find what I must seek within its depths;To find where I may grasp all that which streamsFrom this same picture into my soul’s core.Imustattain it.—Oh—deluded fool!It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,A ghost I cannot see, nor have I powerWhich 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 lostThe thinker’s peace of mind. Consider now,If from this picture some ghost speaks to theeThen 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 upraisedFar, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,Even as I myself full oft have felt.At such times, howsoe’er one feels oneselfStrong-armoured at all points with logic’s might,One can but be convinced that one is seizedBy some strange power that can have originNot in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.Who hath endowed this picture with such power?To me it seems the symbol in sense-lifeOf 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 pierceThrough sense-appearance unto spirit-self.With his developed sight he penetratesTo spirit verity; and thus for meThose ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’In new light do appear. To know ourselvesE’en as we are, we must first find that powerWithin ourselves, which, as true spirit, dothConceal itself from us in our own selves.Maria:We must, to find ourselves, that power unfoldWhich 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 ThomasiusHath 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 lifeKnowledge doth differ.Capesius:Knowledge doth differ.So would I maintain.Strader:If matters thus do stand, then is all thoughtNothing: all learning but illusory;And every moment I must lose myself.…Oh, do leave me alone.…(Exit.)Capesius:Oh, do leave me alone....I’ll go with him.(Exit.)Maria:Capesius is nearer far todayTo spirit lore, than he himself doth think;And Strader suffers deeply. What his soulSo hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.Johannes:The inner nature of these two did standAlready then before my spirit’s eyeWhen first I dared to tread the realm of souls.As a young man I saw Capesius,And Strader in the years he hath not reachedBy some long span as yet. CapesiusDid show a youthful promise which concealsMuch that this life will not allow to comeTo due fruition in the realms of sense.I was attracted to his inner self:In his soul’s essence I could first beholdWhat is the essential kernel of a man;And how a man’s peculiaritiesIn earthly life do manifest themselvesAs 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 selvesWith my soul’s vision, yet I did perceiveWithin his nature that which could not riseFrom 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 heUnfolded in his former lives on earth.If thus I have revealed his inmost self,My picture will have served the aim, which IDid purpose for it in my thought: for asA work of art I do not rate it high.Maria:It will confirm its work within that soulWhich it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.Curtain falls whilst Maria and Johannes are still in the roomScene 9Same region as in Scene 2. From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself.’Johannes:O man, feel thou thyself! For three long yearsI have sought strength of soul, with courage winged,Which doth give truth unto these words, wherebyA man may free himself to conquer first;Then conquering himself may freedom findThrough 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 mysteriouslyBuilds his proud body from an acorn small.Spirit can cause to live in its own selfAll 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 holdOf 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 speaksAround 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 heartThrough 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 restWithin 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 strengthTo live this other self in its own self.Oh hopeful words, ye stream forth strength to meFrom 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 yetYe place me near the highest aims of gods;And blissfully I feel creative powerFrom these high aims in my weak, earthly form.And out of mine own Self shall stand revealedThose powers, whereof the germ lies hid in me.And I will give myself unto the worldBy 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 fireIn my soul-powers and on my spirit-paths.I feel how now my very thought doth pierceTo deep-concealed foundations of the world;And how it streams through them with radiant light.E’en thus doth work the fructifying powerOf 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.’)Who conquered self.That being do I seeWhom I would fain be like in future times.The spirit in me shall grow free, through theeSublime 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 powerOf these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From springs and rocks resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)Johannes:Thou here, my friend?Maria:Thou here, my friend?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 lifeAllows its light to shine forth in my soul.Johannes:Maria, then thou also art awareOf 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 everywhereLies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)CurtainScene 10A 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’erIt gives itself to give another joy.Thus do I work with true creative joyTo 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 strengthDoth feel creative joy, when I beholdThee as the fruit of self-experience.Within the temple to my spirit’s eyeOnce didst thou show thyself, yet at that timeI 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 strengthTo turn my spirit’s sight unto thy world.Theodosius:Feel me in thy soul-depths, and bear my powerTo all the worlds. Thus, serving Love’s behestsThou 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 returnAnd 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 receiveThe 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 twainWhate’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 artSome vain illusion. Oh, revive in meYe good powers of my soul, and straightway crushThis 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 thenEnter that way, which to my temple leads.And if my wisdom is to guide thee stillTo loftier heights, it must flow from that spotWhere with my brethren close conjoined I work.The strength of truth I gave to thee myself;And if this kindles power from its own fireWithin thyself, then shalt thou find the way.(Exit.)Johannes:Oh, he doth leave me. How shall I decideWhether 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 putWithin 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 mustProceed from out the temple’s shrine alone,Since Benedictus’ brother uttered you.I feel already how ye mount withinMine inmost being.Mine inmost being.Soon shall ye resoundFrom out my very Self, that I may readYour meaning rightly. Spirit, that doth dwellWithin 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 proveThine own existence; and to find thyselfWas thy reward. So now use this reward.In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.In the wide realms on high a being strangeThou shalt discover, who to human lotWill 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 destroyThe power of being, and thou canst misuseThe 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 aroseFrom 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 meOnly those powers, which in the souls of menDo but create illusion and deceit?(The following is a spirit voice coming from the heights.)Spirit:To founts of world primevalThy 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.CurtainScene 11The 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 youYe have administered with ill success.I call you now before my judgment seat.To thee, Capesius, I did entrustFull measure of the spirit, that ideasOf 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 directInto those gatherings of men, whereinThou didst Johannes and Maria meet.Their tendency towards the spirit-sightThou shouldst have superseded by the powerWhich thy words should have exercised on them.Instead of that thou didst thyself give upUnto the influence which flows from them.—And to thee, Strader, did I show the wayThat leads to scientific certainty.Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroyThe 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 truthNow 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 inspiredThe souls of men at this time or at that:But yet it was impossible for meTo 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 tooWas 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 lessFelt other powers continually arise.Retardus:See now then what result your weakness brings.The brethren are approaching with those soulsIn whom they will o’erthrow my power. E’en nowJohannes 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 nowNo 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 swayO’er souls of men doth only last so longAs I remain invisible to them.Yet doth the power continue which hath beenFrom the creation of the worlds mine own.And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet stillMy power will cause within their spirit-lifeMost beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.Benedictus(to Ahriman):Johannes’ and Maria’s souls have nowDestroyed 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 destinyWith thine exalted sister’s loftier life:The light of love I could impart to her:But not the warmth of love, so long as thouDidst always let thy noblest impulsesFrom dim sensations only rise in thee,And didst not strive to see them clear and boldIn the full light of wisdom’s certainty.The influence of the Temple does not reachUnto the nature of vague impulses,E’en though such impulse wills to work for good.The Other Maria:I needs must recognize that noble thoughtCan only work salvation in the light.So to the temple I now wend my way.My own emotion shall in future timesNot rob the light of love of its results.Theodosius:Through this, thine insight, thou dost give me powerTo make Maria’s soul-light on the earthRun smooth and evenly upon its path:For aye aforetime it must lose its mightIn 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 wayWhich led to thine exalted sister’s soulSo long as in my heart the warmth of loveFrom love’s light ever held itself apart.The sacrifice which to the temple’s shrineThou bring’st, shall be repeated in my soul.Therein the warmth of love shall sacrificeItself unto love’s wonder-working light.Maria:Johannes, in the realm of spirit-lifeThou hast attained to knowledge through myself.To spirit knowledge thou canst only addTrue soul-existence, when thou findest tooThine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)Philia:Then from the whole creation of the worldsThe joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.Astrid:From thine whole being then can be outpouredThe 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 powerTo 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 wayGives me the power to give light to the willOf 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 nowIn spirit in myself. Thou shalt live outThine own existence as a spirit, whenThe world’s light can behold itself in thee.Johannes(to Felix Balde):In thee, good brother Felix, do I seeThat soul-power which did hold my will fast boundIn its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the wayUnto the temple: with the strength of willWithin my spirit I would fain point outThe path unto the temple of the soul.Retardus:Johannes’ and Maria’s souls e’en nowEscape from my domain: how then shall theyDiscover all that springs forth from my might?So long as they did lack within their soulsThe fundaments of learning, they did stillFind joy and pleasure in my gifts, but nowI see myself compelled to let them go.Felicia:That man without thine aid, may fire himselfTo rational thought, that have I shown to theeFrom 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 domainBefore 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 knowIn his own soul all that, which up till nowGood Dame Felicia hath produced for him.Strader:Then I alone seem lost, for of myselfI cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;And surely I shall never find againThe 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 proceedFrom 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

InterludeScene: 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 Soultouched 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 doubthis 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 onecarries 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 worksof 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 itselfbeyond 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.CurtainScene 8Same 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 meThy nature to interpret through mine art.Capesius:This picture is a marvel unto meAnd its creator a still greater one.For naught, which men like me have up till nowConsidered possible, can be comparedWith this change that hath taken place in thee.One only can believe, when actual sightCompels belief. We met three years ago;And I was then allowed to count myselfA 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 theretoWords that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.I spake in such a mood wherein one dothThink almost always of oneself alone;And none the less my gaze did ever restUpon 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 notA single word of all those spoken near.The sorrow unto which he gave himselfSeemed 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 inappropriateTo 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 yearsWith utmost diligence absorbed thyselfIn all I had to say on world events.And, as we grew more intimate, I thenDid know the riddle of thine artist life,And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.My thought in former days was ill-inclinedTo soar to worlds beyond the life of sense—Not that I doubted them—but yet it seemedPresumptuous to draw near with eager mind.But now I must admit that them hast changedMy point of view. I hear thee oft repeatThat thine artistic skill depends aloneUpon the gift to function consciouslyIn other worlds; and that thou canst implantNaught in thy work but what thou hast first seenIn spirit worlds: indeed thy works do showHow spirit stands revealed in actual life.Strader:Never so little have I understoodThy speech; for surely in all artists’ workThe 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 showsItself in man, who none the less remainsUnconscious of its nature. He createsThrough this same spirit, but perceives it not.Thomasius however doth createIn worlds of sense what he in spirit-realmsCan consciously behold; and many timesHath 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 hereHath first revealed to me in his true selfCapesius, whom I thought I knew full well.In thought I knew him; but his work doth showHow little of him I had really known.Maria:How comes it, doctor, that thou canst admireThe greatness of this work so much, and yetCanst still deny the greatness of its source?Strader:What hath my wonder at the artist’s workIn common with my faith in spirit-sight?Maria:One can indeed admire a work, e’en whenOne hath no faith in that which is its source;Yet in this case there would be naught to rouseOur admiration, had this artist notTrodden the path that led to spirit-life.Strader:Yet still we must not say that whosoe’erDoth to the spirit wholly give himselfWill 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 workAnd 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 gleamFrom 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 streamFrom all the colour-tones with which thy brushHath solved the mystery of portraiture.Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!And yet they are not; they seem visibleOnly to vanish straightway from my sight.The moulding too doth seem like colour’s work;And yet it tells of spirit intertwinedIn every line, and many things besides,That are not of itself.—Where then is thatWhereof 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 hereThat 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 throughTo find what I must seek within its depths;To find where I may grasp all that which streamsFrom this same picture into my soul’s core.Imustattain it.—Oh—deluded fool!It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,A ghost I cannot see, nor have I powerWhich 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 lostThe thinker’s peace of mind. Consider now,If from this picture some ghost speaks to theeThen 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 upraisedFar, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,Even as I myself full oft have felt.At such times, howsoe’er one feels oneselfStrong-armoured at all points with logic’s might,One can but be convinced that one is seizedBy some strange power that can have originNot in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.Who hath endowed this picture with such power?To me it seems the symbol in sense-lifeOf 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 pierceThrough sense-appearance unto spirit-self.With his developed sight he penetratesTo spirit verity; and thus for meThose ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’In new light do appear. To know ourselvesE’en as we are, we must first find that powerWithin ourselves, which, as true spirit, dothConceal itself from us in our own selves.Maria:We must, to find ourselves, that power unfoldWhich 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 ThomasiusHath 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 lifeKnowledge doth differ.Capesius:Knowledge doth differ.So would I maintain.Strader:If matters thus do stand, then is all thoughtNothing: all learning but illusory;And every moment I must lose myself.…Oh, do leave me alone.…(Exit.)Capesius:Oh, do leave me alone....I’ll go with him.(Exit.)Maria:Capesius is nearer far todayTo spirit lore, than he himself doth think;And Strader suffers deeply. What his soulSo hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.Johannes:The inner nature of these two did standAlready then before my spirit’s eyeWhen first I dared to tread the realm of souls.As a young man I saw Capesius,And Strader in the years he hath not reachedBy some long span as yet. CapesiusDid show a youthful promise which concealsMuch that this life will not allow to comeTo due fruition in the realms of sense.I was attracted to his inner self:In his soul’s essence I could first beholdWhat is the essential kernel of a man;And how a man’s peculiaritiesIn earthly life do manifest themselvesAs 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 selvesWith my soul’s vision, yet I did perceiveWithin his nature that which could not riseFrom 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 heUnfolded in his former lives on earth.If thus I have revealed his inmost self,My picture will have served the aim, which IDid purpose for it in my thought: for asA work of art I do not rate it high.Maria:It will confirm its work within that soulWhich it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.Curtain falls whilst Maria and Johannes are still in the roomScene 9Same region as in Scene 2. From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself.’Johannes:O man, feel thou thyself! For three long yearsI have sought strength of soul, with courage winged,Which doth give truth unto these words, wherebyA man may free himself to conquer first;Then conquering himself may freedom findThrough 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 mysteriouslyBuilds his proud body from an acorn small.Spirit can cause to live in its own selfAll 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 holdOf 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 speaksAround 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 heartThrough 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 restWithin 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 strengthTo live this other self in its own self.Oh hopeful words, ye stream forth strength to meFrom 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 yetYe place me near the highest aims of gods;And blissfully I feel creative powerFrom these high aims in my weak, earthly form.And out of mine own Self shall stand revealedThose powers, whereof the germ lies hid in me.And I will give myself unto the worldBy 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 fireIn my soul-powers and on my spirit-paths.I feel how now my very thought doth pierceTo deep-concealed foundations of the world;And how it streams through them with radiant light.E’en thus doth work the fructifying powerOf 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.’)Who conquered self.That being do I seeWhom I would fain be like in future times.The spirit in me shall grow free, through theeSublime 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 powerOf these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From springs and rocks resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)Johannes:Thou here, my friend?Maria:Thou here, my friend?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 lifeAllows its light to shine forth in my soul.Johannes:Maria, then thou also art awareOf 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 everywhereLies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)CurtainScene 10A 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’erIt gives itself to give another joy.Thus do I work with true creative joyTo 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 strengthDoth feel creative joy, when I beholdThee as the fruit of self-experience.Within the temple to my spirit’s eyeOnce didst thou show thyself, yet at that timeI 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 strengthTo turn my spirit’s sight unto thy world.Theodosius:Feel me in thy soul-depths, and bear my powerTo all the worlds. Thus, serving Love’s behestsThou 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 returnAnd 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 receiveThe 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 twainWhate’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 artSome vain illusion. Oh, revive in meYe good powers of my soul, and straightway crushThis 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 thenEnter that way, which to my temple leads.And if my wisdom is to guide thee stillTo loftier heights, it must flow from that spotWhere with my brethren close conjoined I work.The strength of truth I gave to thee myself;And if this kindles power from its own fireWithin thyself, then shalt thou find the way.(Exit.)Johannes:Oh, he doth leave me. How shall I decideWhether 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 putWithin 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 mustProceed from out the temple’s shrine alone,Since Benedictus’ brother uttered you.I feel already how ye mount withinMine inmost being.Mine inmost being.Soon shall ye resoundFrom out my very Self, that I may readYour meaning rightly. Spirit, that doth dwellWithin 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 proveThine own existence; and to find thyselfWas thy reward. So now use this reward.In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.In the wide realms on high a being strangeThou shalt discover, who to human lotWill 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 destroyThe power of being, and thou canst misuseThe 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 aroseFrom 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 meOnly those powers, which in the souls of menDo but create illusion and deceit?(The following is a spirit voice coming from the heights.)Spirit:To founts of world primevalThy 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.CurtainScene 11The 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 youYe have administered with ill success.I call you now before my judgment seat.To thee, Capesius, I did entrustFull measure of the spirit, that ideasOf 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 directInto those gatherings of men, whereinThou didst Johannes and Maria meet.Their tendency towards the spirit-sightThou shouldst have superseded by the powerWhich thy words should have exercised on them.Instead of that thou didst thyself give upUnto the influence which flows from them.—And to thee, Strader, did I show the wayThat leads to scientific certainty.Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroyThe 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 truthNow 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 inspiredThe souls of men at this time or at that:But yet it was impossible for meTo 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 tooWas 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 lessFelt other powers continually arise.Retardus:See now then what result your weakness brings.The brethren are approaching with those soulsIn whom they will o’erthrow my power. E’en nowJohannes 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 nowNo 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 swayO’er souls of men doth only last so longAs I remain invisible to them.Yet doth the power continue which hath beenFrom the creation of the worlds mine own.And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet stillMy power will cause within their spirit-lifeMost beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.Benedictus(to Ahriman):Johannes’ and Maria’s souls have nowDestroyed 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 destinyWith thine exalted sister’s loftier life:The light of love I could impart to her:But not the warmth of love, so long as thouDidst always let thy noblest impulsesFrom dim sensations only rise in thee,And didst not strive to see them clear and boldIn the full light of wisdom’s certainty.The influence of the Temple does not reachUnto the nature of vague impulses,E’en though such impulse wills to work for good.The Other Maria:I needs must recognize that noble thoughtCan only work salvation in the light.So to the temple I now wend my way.My own emotion shall in future timesNot rob the light of love of its results.Theodosius:Through this, thine insight, thou dost give me powerTo make Maria’s soul-light on the earthRun smooth and evenly upon its path:For aye aforetime it must lose its mightIn 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 wayWhich led to thine exalted sister’s soulSo long as in my heart the warmth of loveFrom love’s light ever held itself apart.The sacrifice which to the temple’s shrineThou bring’st, shall be repeated in my soul.Therein the warmth of love shall sacrificeItself unto love’s wonder-working light.Maria:Johannes, in the realm of spirit-lifeThou hast attained to knowledge through myself.To spirit knowledge thou canst only addTrue soul-existence, when thou findest tooThine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)Philia:Then from the whole creation of the worldsThe joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.Astrid:From thine whole being then can be outpouredThe 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 powerTo 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 wayGives me the power to give light to the willOf 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 nowIn spirit in myself. Thou shalt live outThine own existence as a spirit, whenThe world’s light can behold itself in thee.Johannes(to Felix Balde):In thee, good brother Felix, do I seeThat soul-power which did hold my will fast boundIn its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the wayUnto the temple: with the strength of willWithin my spirit I would fain point outThe path unto the temple of the soul.Retardus:Johannes’ and Maria’s souls e’en nowEscape from my domain: how then shall theyDiscover all that springs forth from my might?So long as they did lack within their soulsThe fundaments of learning, they did stillFind joy and pleasure in my gifts, but nowI see myself compelled to let them go.Felicia:That man without thine aid, may fire himselfTo rational thought, that have I shown to theeFrom 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 domainBefore 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 knowIn his own soul all that, which up till nowGood Dame Felicia hath produced for him.Strader:Then I alone seem lost, for of myselfI cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;And surely I shall never find againThe 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 proceedFrom 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

InterludeScene: 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 Soultouched 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 doubthis 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 onecarries 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 worksof 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 itselfbeyond 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

InterludeScene: 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 Soultouched 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 doubthis 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 onecarries 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 worksof 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 itselfbeyond 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: 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.

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.

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.

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 Soultouched 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.

Estella:

This play, of which I spoke to you,Outcasts from Body and from Soultouched 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.

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 doubthis 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.

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 doubthis 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.

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 onecarries 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.

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 onecarries 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.

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?

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.

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.

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 worksof 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.

Sophia:

A vivid grasp of real truth must needs create in the heart a sense of a certain poverty in worksof 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.

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.

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.

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 itselfbeyond nature, and the artist cannot know the appearance of what is outside his senses.

Sophia:

That is just why so many works of art are imperfect; for the creative function leads of itselfbeyond 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.

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.

Sophia:

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

Estella:Au revoir, dear Sophy.

Estella:

Au revoir, dear Sophy.

Sophia:Good-bye, dear Estelle.

Sophia:

Good-bye, dear Estelle.

Curtain

Scene 8Same 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 meThy nature to interpret through mine art.Capesius:This picture is a marvel unto meAnd its creator a still greater one.For naught, which men like me have up till nowConsidered possible, can be comparedWith this change that hath taken place in thee.One only can believe, when actual sightCompels belief. We met three years ago;And I was then allowed to count myselfA 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 theretoWords that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.I spake in such a mood wherein one dothThink almost always of oneself alone;And none the less my gaze did ever restUpon 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 notA single word of all those spoken near.The sorrow unto which he gave himselfSeemed 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 inappropriateTo 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 yearsWith utmost diligence absorbed thyselfIn all I had to say on world events.And, as we grew more intimate, I thenDid know the riddle of thine artist life,And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.My thought in former days was ill-inclinedTo soar to worlds beyond the life of sense—Not that I doubted them—but yet it seemedPresumptuous to draw near with eager mind.But now I must admit that them hast changedMy point of view. I hear thee oft repeatThat thine artistic skill depends aloneUpon the gift to function consciouslyIn other worlds; and that thou canst implantNaught in thy work but what thou hast first seenIn spirit worlds: indeed thy works do showHow spirit stands revealed in actual life.Strader:Never so little have I understoodThy speech; for surely in all artists’ workThe 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 showsItself in man, who none the less remainsUnconscious of its nature. He createsThrough this same spirit, but perceives it not.Thomasius however doth createIn worlds of sense what he in spirit-realmsCan consciously behold; and many timesHath 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 hereHath first revealed to me in his true selfCapesius, whom I thought I knew full well.In thought I knew him; but his work doth showHow little of him I had really known.Maria:How comes it, doctor, that thou canst admireThe greatness of this work so much, and yetCanst still deny the greatness of its source?Strader:What hath my wonder at the artist’s workIn common with my faith in spirit-sight?Maria:One can indeed admire a work, e’en whenOne hath no faith in that which is its source;Yet in this case there would be naught to rouseOur admiration, had this artist notTrodden the path that led to spirit-life.Strader:Yet still we must not say that whosoe’erDoth to the spirit wholly give himselfWill 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 workAnd 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 gleamFrom 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 streamFrom all the colour-tones with which thy brushHath solved the mystery of portraiture.Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!And yet they are not; they seem visibleOnly to vanish straightway from my sight.The moulding too doth seem like colour’s work;And yet it tells of spirit intertwinedIn every line, and many things besides,That are not of itself.—Where then is thatWhereof 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 hereThat 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 throughTo find what I must seek within its depths;To find where I may grasp all that which streamsFrom this same picture into my soul’s core.Imustattain it.—Oh—deluded fool!It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,A ghost I cannot see, nor have I powerWhich 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 lostThe thinker’s peace of mind. Consider now,If from this picture some ghost speaks to theeThen 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 upraisedFar, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,Even as I myself full oft have felt.At such times, howsoe’er one feels oneselfStrong-armoured at all points with logic’s might,One can but be convinced that one is seizedBy some strange power that can have originNot in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.Who hath endowed this picture with such power?To me it seems the symbol in sense-lifeOf 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 pierceThrough sense-appearance unto spirit-self.With his developed sight he penetratesTo spirit verity; and thus for meThose ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’In new light do appear. To know ourselvesE’en as we are, we must first find that powerWithin ourselves, which, as true spirit, dothConceal itself from us in our own selves.Maria:We must, to find ourselves, that power unfoldWhich 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 ThomasiusHath 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 lifeKnowledge doth differ.Capesius:Knowledge doth differ.So would I maintain.Strader:If matters thus do stand, then is all thoughtNothing: all learning but illusory;And every moment I must lose myself.…Oh, do leave me alone.…(Exit.)Capesius:Oh, do leave me alone....I’ll go with him.(Exit.)Maria:Capesius is nearer far todayTo spirit lore, than he himself doth think;And Strader suffers deeply. What his soulSo hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.Johannes:The inner nature of these two did standAlready then before my spirit’s eyeWhen first I dared to tread the realm of souls.As a young man I saw Capesius,And Strader in the years he hath not reachedBy some long span as yet. CapesiusDid show a youthful promise which concealsMuch that this life will not allow to comeTo due fruition in the realms of sense.I was attracted to his inner self:In his soul’s essence I could first beholdWhat is the essential kernel of a man;And how a man’s peculiaritiesIn earthly life do manifest themselvesAs 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 selvesWith my soul’s vision, yet I did perceiveWithin his nature that which could not riseFrom 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 heUnfolded in his former lives on earth.If thus I have revealed his inmost self,My picture will have served the aim, which IDid purpose for it in my thought: for asA work of art I do not rate it high.Maria:It will confirm its work within that soulWhich it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.Curtain falls whilst Maria and Johannes are still in the room

Scene 8Same 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 meThy nature to interpret through mine art.Capesius:This picture is a marvel unto meAnd its creator a still greater one.For naught, which men like me have up till nowConsidered possible, can be comparedWith this change that hath taken place in thee.One only can believe, when actual sightCompels belief. We met three years ago;And I was then allowed to count myselfA 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 theretoWords that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.I spake in such a mood wherein one dothThink almost always of oneself alone;And none the less my gaze did ever restUpon 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 notA single word of all those spoken near.The sorrow unto which he gave himselfSeemed 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 inappropriateTo 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 yearsWith utmost diligence absorbed thyselfIn all I had to say on world events.And, as we grew more intimate, I thenDid know the riddle of thine artist life,And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.My thought in former days was ill-inclinedTo soar to worlds beyond the life of sense—Not that I doubted them—but yet it seemedPresumptuous to draw near with eager mind.But now I must admit that them hast changedMy point of view. I hear thee oft repeatThat thine artistic skill depends aloneUpon the gift to function consciouslyIn other worlds; and that thou canst implantNaught in thy work but what thou hast first seenIn spirit worlds: indeed thy works do showHow spirit stands revealed in actual life.Strader:Never so little have I understoodThy speech; for surely in all artists’ workThe 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 showsItself in man, who none the less remainsUnconscious of its nature. He createsThrough this same spirit, but perceives it not.Thomasius however doth createIn worlds of sense what he in spirit-realmsCan consciously behold; and many timesHath 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 hereHath first revealed to me in his true selfCapesius, whom I thought I knew full well.In thought I knew him; but his work doth showHow little of him I had really known.Maria:How comes it, doctor, that thou canst admireThe greatness of this work so much, and yetCanst still deny the greatness of its source?Strader:What hath my wonder at the artist’s workIn common with my faith in spirit-sight?Maria:One can indeed admire a work, e’en whenOne hath no faith in that which is its source;Yet in this case there would be naught to rouseOur admiration, had this artist notTrodden the path that led to spirit-life.Strader:Yet still we must not say that whosoe’erDoth to the spirit wholly give himselfWill 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 workAnd 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 gleamFrom 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 streamFrom all the colour-tones with which thy brushHath solved the mystery of portraiture.Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!And yet they are not; they seem visibleOnly to vanish straightway from my sight.The moulding too doth seem like colour’s work;And yet it tells of spirit intertwinedIn every line, and many things besides,That are not of itself.—Where then is thatWhereof 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 hereThat 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 throughTo find what I must seek within its depths;To find where I may grasp all that which streamsFrom this same picture into my soul’s core.Imustattain it.—Oh—deluded fool!It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,A ghost I cannot see, nor have I powerWhich 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 lostThe thinker’s peace of mind. Consider now,If from this picture some ghost speaks to theeThen 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 upraisedFar, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,Even as I myself full oft have felt.At such times, howsoe’er one feels oneselfStrong-armoured at all points with logic’s might,One can but be convinced that one is seizedBy some strange power that can have originNot in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.Who hath endowed this picture with such power?To me it seems the symbol in sense-lifeOf 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 pierceThrough sense-appearance unto spirit-self.With his developed sight he penetratesTo spirit verity; and thus for meThose ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’In new light do appear. To know ourselvesE’en as we are, we must first find that powerWithin ourselves, which, as true spirit, dothConceal itself from us in our own selves.Maria:We must, to find ourselves, that power unfoldWhich 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 ThomasiusHath 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 lifeKnowledge doth differ.Capesius:Knowledge doth differ.So would I maintain.Strader:If matters thus do stand, then is all thoughtNothing: all learning but illusory;And every moment I must lose myself.…Oh, do leave me alone.…(Exit.)Capesius:Oh, do leave me alone....I’ll go with him.(Exit.)Maria:Capesius is nearer far todayTo spirit lore, than he himself doth think;And Strader suffers deeply. What his soulSo hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.Johannes:The inner nature of these two did standAlready then before my spirit’s eyeWhen first I dared to tread the realm of souls.As a young man I saw Capesius,And Strader in the years he hath not reachedBy some long span as yet. CapesiusDid show a youthful promise which concealsMuch that this life will not allow to comeTo due fruition in the realms of sense.I was attracted to his inner self:In his soul’s essence I could first beholdWhat is the essential kernel of a man;And how a man’s peculiaritiesIn earthly life do manifest themselvesAs 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 selvesWith my soul’s vision, yet I did perceiveWithin his nature that which could not riseFrom 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 heUnfolded in his former lives on earth.If thus I have revealed his inmost self,My picture will have served the aim, which IDid purpose for it in my thought: for asA work of art I do not rate it high.Maria:It will confirm its work within that soulWhich it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.Curtain falls whilst Maria and Johannes are still in the room

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 meThy nature to interpret through mine art.

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 meAnd its creator a still greater one.For naught, which men like me have up till nowConsidered possible, can be comparedWith this change that hath taken place in thee.One only can believe, when actual sightCompels belief. We met three years ago;And I was then allowed to count myselfA 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 theretoWords that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.I spake in such a mood wherein one dothThink almost always of oneself alone;And none the less my gaze did ever restUpon 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 notA single word of all those spoken near.The sorrow unto which he gave himselfSeemed 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 inappropriateTo 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 yearsWith utmost diligence absorbed thyselfIn all I had to say on world events.And, as we grew more intimate, I thenDid know the riddle of thine artist life,And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.My thought in former days was ill-inclinedTo soar to worlds beyond the life of sense—Not that I doubted them—but yet it seemedPresumptuous to draw near with eager mind.But now I must admit that them hast changedMy point of view. I hear thee oft repeatThat thine artistic skill depends aloneUpon the gift to function consciouslyIn other worlds; and that thou canst implantNaught in thy work but what thou hast first seenIn spirit worlds: indeed thy works do showHow spirit stands revealed in actual life.

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 understoodThy speech; for surely in all artists’ workThe living spirit is thus manifest.How therefore doth thy friend, Thomasius,Differ from other masters in his art?

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 showsItself in man, who none the less remainsUnconscious of its nature. He createsThrough this same spirit, but perceives it not.Thomasius however doth createIn worlds of sense what he in spirit-realmsCan consciously behold; and many timesHath he assured me, that, for men like him,No other method of creation serves.

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 hereHath first revealed to me in his true selfCapesius, whom I thought I knew full well.In thought I knew him; but his work doth showHow little of him I had really known.

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 admireThe greatness of this work so much, and yetCanst still deny the greatness of its source?

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 workIn common with my faith in spirit-sight?

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 whenOne hath no faith in that which is its source;Yet in this case there would be naught to rouseOur admiration, had this artist notTrodden the path that led to spirit-life.

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’erDoth to the spirit wholly give himselfWill 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 workAnd 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 gleamFrom 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 streamFrom all the colour-tones with which thy brushHath solved the mystery of portraiture.Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!And yet they are not; they seem visibleOnly to vanish straightway from my sight.The moulding too doth seem like colour’s work;And yet it tells of spirit intertwinedIn every line, and many things besides,That are not of itself.—Where then is thatWhereof 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 hereThat 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 throughTo find what I must seek within its depths;To find where I may grasp all that which streamsFrom this same picture into my soul’s core.Imustattain it.—Oh—deluded fool!It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,A ghost I cannot see, nor have I powerWhich 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!

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.

Imustattain 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 lostThe thinker’s peace of mind. Consider now,If from this picture some ghost speaks to theeThen I myself must surely ghostly be.

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.

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 upraisedFar, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,Even as I myself full oft have felt.At such times, howsoe’er one feels oneselfStrong-armoured at all points with logic’s might,One can but be convinced that one is seizedBy some strange power that can have originNot in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.Who hath endowed this picture with such power?To me it seems the symbol in sense-lifeOf 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 pierceThrough sense-appearance unto spirit-self.With his developed sight he penetratesTo spirit verity; and thus for meThose ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’In new light do appear. To know ourselvesE’en as we are, we must first find that powerWithin ourselves, which, as true spirit, dothConceal itself from us in our own selves.

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 unfoldWhich can pierce through into our very souls:And truly do these words of wisdom speak—Unfold thyself and thou shalt find thyself.

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 ThomasiusHath 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 lifeKnowledge doth differ.

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:Knowledge doth differ.So would I maintain.

Capesius:

Knowledge doth differ.So would I maintain.

Strader:If matters thus do stand, then is all thoughtNothing: all learning but illusory;And every moment I must lose myself.…Oh, do leave me alone.…

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:Oh, do leave me alone....I’ll go with him.

Capesius:

Oh, do leave me alone....I’ll go with him.

(Exit.)

Maria:Capesius is nearer far todayTo spirit lore, than he himself doth think;And Strader suffers deeply. What his soulSo hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.

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 standAlready then before my spirit’s eyeWhen first I dared to tread the realm of souls.As a young man I saw Capesius,And Strader in the years he hath not reachedBy some long span as yet. CapesiusDid show a youthful promise which concealsMuch that this life will not allow to comeTo due fruition in the realms of sense.I was attracted to his inner self:In his soul’s essence I could first beholdWhat is the essential kernel of a man;And how a man’s peculiaritiesIn earthly life do manifest themselvesAs 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 selvesWith my soul’s vision, yet I did perceiveWithin his nature that which could not riseFrom 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 heUnfolded in his former lives on earth.If thus I have revealed his inmost self,My picture will have served the aim, which IDid purpose for it in my thought: for asA work of art I do not rate it high.

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 soulWhich it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.

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 9Same region as in Scene 2. From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself.’Johannes:O man, feel thou thyself! For three long yearsI have sought strength of soul, with courage winged,Which doth give truth unto these words, wherebyA man may free himself to conquer first;Then conquering himself may freedom findThrough 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 mysteriouslyBuilds his proud body from an acorn small.Spirit can cause to live in its own selfAll 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 holdOf 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 speaksAround 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 heartThrough 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 restWithin 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 strengthTo live this other self in its own self.Oh hopeful words, ye stream forth strength to meFrom 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 yetYe place me near the highest aims of gods;And blissfully I feel creative powerFrom these high aims in my weak, earthly form.And out of mine own Self shall stand revealedThose powers, whereof the germ lies hid in me.And I will give myself unto the worldBy 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 fireIn my soul-powers and on my spirit-paths.I feel how now my very thought doth pierceTo deep-concealed foundations of the world;And how it streams through them with radiant light.E’en thus doth work the fructifying powerOf 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.’)Who conquered self.That being do I seeWhom I would fain be like in future times.The spirit in me shall grow free, through theeSublime 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 powerOf these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From springs and rocks resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)Johannes:Thou here, my friend?Maria:Thou here, my friend?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 lifeAllows its light to shine forth in my soul.Johannes:Maria, then thou also art awareOf 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 everywhereLies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)Curtain

Scene 9Same region as in Scene 2. From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself.’Johannes:O man, feel thou thyself! For three long yearsI have sought strength of soul, with courage winged,Which doth give truth unto these words, wherebyA man may free himself to conquer first;Then conquering himself may freedom findThrough 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 mysteriouslyBuilds his proud body from an acorn small.Spirit can cause to live in its own selfAll 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 holdOf 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 speaksAround 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 heartThrough 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 restWithin 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 strengthTo live this other self in its own self.Oh hopeful words, ye stream forth strength to meFrom 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 yetYe place me near the highest aims of gods;And blissfully I feel creative powerFrom these high aims in my weak, earthly form.And out of mine own Self shall stand revealedThose powers, whereof the germ lies hid in me.And I will give myself unto the worldBy 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 fireIn my soul-powers and on my spirit-paths.I feel how now my very thought doth pierceTo deep-concealed foundations of the world;And how it streams through them with radiant light.E’en thus doth work the fructifying powerOf 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.’)Who conquered self.That being do I seeWhom I would fain be like in future times.The spirit in me shall grow free, through theeSublime 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 powerOf these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From springs and rocks resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)Johannes:Thou here, my friend?Maria:Thou here, my friend?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 lifeAllows its light to shine forth in my soul.Johannes:Maria, then thou also art awareOf 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 everywhereLies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.(From rocks and springs resounds: ‘O man, feel thou thyself!’)Curtain

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 yearsI have sought strength of soul, with courage winged,Which doth give truth unto these words, wherebyA man may free himself to conquer first;Then conquering himself may freedom findThrough these same words: ‘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 mysteriouslyBuilds his proud body from an acorn small.Spirit can cause to live in its own selfAll 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 holdOf 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—

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 speaksAround me; soul light germinates in me;The brightness of all worlds creates in me:O man, experience and feel 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 heartThrough 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 restWithin 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 strengthTo live this other self in its own self.Oh hopeful words, ye stream forth strength to meFrom all the worlds: 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 yetYe place me near the highest aims of gods;And blissfully I feel creative powerFrom these high aims in my weak, earthly form.And out of mine own Self shall stand revealedThose powers, whereof the germ lies hid in me.And I will give myself unto the worldBy 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 fireIn my soul-powers and on my spirit-paths.I feel how now my very thought doth pierceTo deep-concealed foundations of the world;And how it streams through them with radiant light.E’en thus doth work the fructifying powerOf these same words: 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 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.’)

Who conquered self.That being do I seeWhom I would fain be like in future times.The spirit in me shall grow free, through theeSublime example, I will follow thee.

Who conquered self.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 powerOf these same words: O man, feel thou thyself.

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?

Johannes:

Thou here, my friend?

Maria:Thou here, my friend?My soul did urge me here.I saw thy star shining in fullest strength.

Maria:

Thou here, my friend?My soul did urge me here.

I saw thy star shining in fullest strength.

Johannes:This strength can I experience in myself.

Johannes:

This strength can I experience in myself.

Maria:So closely are we one, that thy soul’s lifeAllows its light to shine forth in my soul.

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 awareOf 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 everywhereLies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.

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 10A 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’erIt gives itself to give another joy.Thus do I work with true creative joyTo 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 strengthDoth feel creative joy, when I beholdThee as the fruit of self-experience.Within the temple to my spirit’s eyeOnce didst thou show thyself, yet at that timeI 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 strengthTo turn my spirit’s sight unto thy world.Theodosius:Feel me in thy soul-depths, and bear my powerTo all the worlds. Thus, serving Love’s behestsThou 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 returnAnd 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 receiveThe 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 twainWhate’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 artSome vain illusion. Oh, revive in meYe good powers of my soul, and straightway crushThis 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 thenEnter that way, which to my temple leads.And if my wisdom is to guide thee stillTo loftier heights, it must flow from that spotWhere with my brethren close conjoined I work.The strength of truth I gave to thee myself;And if this kindles power from its own fireWithin thyself, then shalt thou find the way.(Exit.)Johannes:Oh, he doth leave me. How shall I decideWhether 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 putWithin 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 mustProceed from out the temple’s shrine alone,Since Benedictus’ brother uttered you.I feel already how ye mount withinMine inmost being.Mine inmost being.Soon shall ye resoundFrom out my very Self, that I may readYour meaning rightly. Spirit, that doth dwellWithin 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 proveThine own existence; and to find thyselfWas thy reward. So now use this reward.In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.In the wide realms on high a being strangeThou shalt discover, who to human lotWill 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 destroyThe power of being, and thou canst misuseThe 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 aroseFrom 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 meOnly those powers, which in the souls of menDo but create illusion and deceit?(The following is a spirit voice coming from the heights.)Spirit:To founts of world primevalThy 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 10A 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’erIt gives itself to give another joy.Thus do I work with true creative joyTo 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 strengthDoth feel creative joy, when I beholdThee as the fruit of self-experience.Within the temple to my spirit’s eyeOnce didst thou show thyself, yet at that timeI 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 strengthTo turn my spirit’s sight unto thy world.Theodosius:Feel me in thy soul-depths, and bear my powerTo all the worlds. Thus, serving Love’s behestsThou 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 returnAnd 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 receiveThe 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 twainWhate’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 artSome vain illusion. Oh, revive in meYe good powers of my soul, and straightway crushThis 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 thenEnter that way, which to my temple leads.And if my wisdom is to guide thee stillTo loftier heights, it must flow from that spotWhere with my brethren close conjoined I work.The strength of truth I gave to thee myself;And if this kindles power from its own fireWithin thyself, then shalt thou find the way.(Exit.)Johannes:Oh, he doth leave me. How shall I decideWhether 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 putWithin 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 mustProceed from out the temple’s shrine alone,Since Benedictus’ brother uttered you.I feel already how ye mount withinMine inmost being.Mine inmost being.Soon shall ye resoundFrom out my very Self, that I may readYour meaning rightly. Spirit, that doth dwellWithin 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 proveThine own existence; and to find thyselfWas thy reward. So now use this reward.In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.In the wide realms on high a being strangeThou shalt discover, who to human lotWill 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 destroyThe power of being, and thou canst misuseThe 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 aroseFrom 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 meOnly those powers, which in the souls of menDo but create illusion and deceit?(The following is a spirit voice coming from the heights.)Spirit:To founts of world primevalThy 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

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’erIt gives itself to give another joy.Thus do I work with true creative joyTo build the worlds. Without me none can live,And naught without my strength can e’er exist.

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 strengthDoth feel creative joy, when I beholdThee as the fruit of self-experience.Within the temple to my spirit’s eyeOnce didst thou show thyself, yet at that timeI 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 strengthTo turn my spirit’s sight unto thy world.

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 powerTo all the worlds. Thus, serving Love’s behestsThou shalt experience true blessedness.

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.

Johannes:

I feel thy presence through its warming light;

I feel creative power arise in me.

(Theodosius disappears.)

He hath departed: but he will returnAnd 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 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 receiveThe 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.

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 twainWhate’er has wrenched itself from thy control.But I shall strengthen in me that new strength,Wherein thou canst have neither part nor lot.

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 artSome vain illusion. Oh, revive in meYe good powers of my soul, and straightway crushThis phantom image, that would mock at me!

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 thenEnter that way, which to my temple leads.And if my wisdom is to guide thee stillTo loftier heights, it must flow from that spotWhere with my brethren close conjoined I work.The strength of truth I gave to thee myself;And if this kindles power from its own fireWithin thyself, then shalt thou find the way.

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 decideWhether I have some phantom form dispelled,Or if reality hath left me now?

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.

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 putWithin thee, then thou canst not live thyself.In freedom strive unto the heights of light;And for this striving now receive my strength.

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.

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 mustProceed from out the temple’s shrine alone,Since Benedictus’ brother uttered you.I feel already how ye mount withinMine inmost being.

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.

Mine inmost being.Soon shall ye resoundFrom out my very Self, that I may readYour meaning rightly. Spirit, that doth dwellWithin me, forth from thy concealment come!Now in thine own true nature show thyself!I feel thy near approach: thou must appear.

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 proveThine own existence; and to find thyselfWas thy reward. So now use this reward.In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.In the wide realms on high a being strangeThou shalt discover, who to human lotWill fetter thee, and will oppress thee too.A man, feel thou thyself: O man, know me.

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 destroyThe power of being, and thou canst misuseThe 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.

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 aroseFrom 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 meOnly those powers, which in the souls of menDo but create illusion and deceit?

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 primevalThy 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.

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 11The 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 youYe have administered with ill success.I call you now before my judgment seat.To thee, Capesius, I did entrustFull measure of the spirit, that ideasOf 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 directInto those gatherings of men, whereinThou didst Johannes and Maria meet.Their tendency towards the spirit-sightThou shouldst have superseded by the powerWhich thy words should have exercised on them.Instead of that thou didst thyself give upUnto the influence which flows from them.—And to thee, Strader, did I show the wayThat leads to scientific certainty.Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroyThe 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 truthNow 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 inspiredThe souls of men at this time or at that:But yet it was impossible for meTo 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 tooWas 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 lessFelt other powers continually arise.Retardus:See now then what result your weakness brings.The brethren are approaching with those soulsIn whom they will o’erthrow my power. E’en nowJohannes 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 nowNo 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 swayO’er souls of men doth only last so longAs I remain invisible to them.Yet doth the power continue which hath beenFrom the creation of the worlds mine own.And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet stillMy power will cause within their spirit-lifeMost beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.Benedictus(to Ahriman):Johannes’ and Maria’s souls have nowDestroyed 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 destinyWith thine exalted sister’s loftier life:The light of love I could impart to her:But not the warmth of love, so long as thouDidst always let thy noblest impulsesFrom dim sensations only rise in thee,And didst not strive to see them clear and boldIn the full light of wisdom’s certainty.The influence of the Temple does not reachUnto the nature of vague impulses,E’en though such impulse wills to work for good.The Other Maria:I needs must recognize that noble thoughtCan only work salvation in the light.So to the temple I now wend my way.My own emotion shall in future timesNot rob the light of love of its results.Theodosius:Through this, thine insight, thou dost give me powerTo make Maria’s soul-light on the earthRun smooth and evenly upon its path:For aye aforetime it must lose its mightIn 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 wayWhich led to thine exalted sister’s soulSo long as in my heart the warmth of loveFrom love’s light ever held itself apart.The sacrifice which to the temple’s shrineThou bring’st, shall be repeated in my soul.Therein the warmth of love shall sacrificeItself unto love’s wonder-working light.Maria:Johannes, in the realm of spirit-lifeThou hast attained to knowledge through myself.To spirit knowledge thou canst only addTrue soul-existence, when thou findest tooThine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)Philia:Then from the whole creation of the worldsThe joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.Astrid:From thine whole being then can be outpouredThe 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 powerTo 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 wayGives me the power to give light to the willOf 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 nowIn spirit in myself. Thou shalt live outThine own existence as a spirit, whenThe world’s light can behold itself in thee.Johannes(to Felix Balde):In thee, good brother Felix, do I seeThat soul-power which did hold my will fast boundIn its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the wayUnto the temple: with the strength of willWithin my spirit I would fain point outThe path unto the temple of the soul.Retardus:Johannes’ and Maria’s souls e’en nowEscape from my domain: how then shall theyDiscover all that springs forth from my might?So long as they did lack within their soulsThe fundaments of learning, they did stillFind joy and pleasure in my gifts, but nowI see myself compelled to let them go.Felicia:That man without thine aid, may fire himselfTo rational thought, that have I shown to theeFrom 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 domainBefore 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 knowIn his own soul all that, which up till nowGood Dame Felicia hath produced for him.Strader:Then I alone seem lost, for of myselfI cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;And surely I shall never find againThe 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 proceedFrom 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

Scene 11The 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 youYe have administered with ill success.I call you now before my judgment seat.To thee, Capesius, I did entrustFull measure of the spirit, that ideasOf 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 directInto those gatherings of men, whereinThou didst Johannes and Maria meet.Their tendency towards the spirit-sightThou shouldst have superseded by the powerWhich thy words should have exercised on them.Instead of that thou didst thyself give upUnto the influence which flows from them.—And to thee, Strader, did I show the wayThat leads to scientific certainty.Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroyThe 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 truthNow 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 inspiredThe souls of men at this time or at that:But yet it was impossible for meTo 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 tooWas 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 lessFelt other powers continually arise.Retardus:See now then what result your weakness brings.The brethren are approaching with those soulsIn whom they will o’erthrow my power. E’en nowJohannes 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 nowNo 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 swayO’er souls of men doth only last so longAs I remain invisible to them.Yet doth the power continue which hath beenFrom the creation of the worlds mine own.And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet stillMy power will cause within their spirit-lifeMost beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.Benedictus(to Ahriman):Johannes’ and Maria’s souls have nowDestroyed 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 destinyWith thine exalted sister’s loftier life:The light of love I could impart to her:But not the warmth of love, so long as thouDidst always let thy noblest impulsesFrom dim sensations only rise in thee,And didst not strive to see them clear and boldIn the full light of wisdom’s certainty.The influence of the Temple does not reachUnto the nature of vague impulses,E’en though such impulse wills to work for good.The Other Maria:I needs must recognize that noble thoughtCan only work salvation in the light.So to the temple I now wend my way.My own emotion shall in future timesNot rob the light of love of its results.Theodosius:Through this, thine insight, thou dost give me powerTo make Maria’s soul-light on the earthRun smooth and evenly upon its path:For aye aforetime it must lose its mightIn 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 wayWhich led to thine exalted sister’s soulSo long as in my heart the warmth of loveFrom love’s light ever held itself apart.The sacrifice which to the temple’s shrineThou bring’st, shall be repeated in my soul.Therein the warmth of love shall sacrificeItself unto love’s wonder-working light.Maria:Johannes, in the realm of spirit-lifeThou hast attained to knowledge through myself.To spirit knowledge thou canst only addTrue soul-existence, when thou findest tooThine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)Philia:Then from the whole creation of the worldsThe joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.Astrid:From thine whole being then can be outpouredThe 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 powerTo 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 wayGives me the power to give light to the willOf 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 nowIn spirit in myself. Thou shalt live outThine own existence as a spirit, whenThe world’s light can behold itself in thee.Johannes(to Felix Balde):In thee, good brother Felix, do I seeThat soul-power which did hold my will fast boundIn its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the wayUnto the temple: with the strength of willWithin my spirit I would fain point outThe path unto the temple of the soul.Retardus:Johannes’ and Maria’s souls e’en nowEscape from my domain: how then shall theyDiscover all that springs forth from my might?So long as they did lack within their soulsThe fundaments of learning, they did stillFind joy and pleasure in my gifts, but nowI see myself compelled to let them go.Felicia:That man without thine aid, may fire himselfTo rational thought, that have I shown to theeFrom 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 domainBefore 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 knowIn his own soul all that, which up till nowGood Dame Felicia hath produced for him.Strader:Then I alone seem lost, for of myselfI cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;And surely I shall never find againThe 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 proceedFrom 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 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 youYe have administered with ill success.I call you now before my judgment seat.To thee, Capesius, I did entrustFull measure of the spirit, that ideasOf 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 directInto those gatherings of men, whereinThou didst Johannes and Maria meet.Their tendency towards the spirit-sightThou shouldst have superseded by the powerWhich thy words should have exercised on them.Instead of that thou didst thyself give upUnto the influence which flows from them.—And to thee, Strader, did I show the wayThat leads to scientific certainty.Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroyThe 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 truthNow lost for evermore from my domain;For to the brethren I must give their souls.

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 inspiredThe souls of men at this time or at that:But yet it was impossible for meTo gift my words, which painted but the past,With power to fill and satisfy men’s 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 tooWas 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 lessFelt other powers continually arise.

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 soulsIn whom they will o’erthrow my power. E’en nowJohannes and Maria feel their might.

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 nowNo longer room for blind unseeing power:To spirit-life they have been lifted up.

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 swayO’er souls of men doth only last so longAs I remain invisible to them.Yet doth the power continue which hath beenFrom the creation of the worlds mine own.And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet stillMy power will cause within their spirit-lifeMost beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.

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 nowDestroyed all error’s darkness in themselves;And spirit-sight hath been revealed to them.

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.

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 destinyWith thine exalted sister’s loftier life:The light of love I could impart to her:But not the warmth of love, so long as thouDidst always let thy noblest impulsesFrom dim sensations only rise in thee,And didst not strive to see them clear and boldIn the full light of wisdom’s certainty.The influence of the Temple does not reachUnto the nature of vague impulses,E’en though such impulse wills to work for good.

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 thoughtCan only work salvation in the light.So to the temple I now wend my way.My own emotion shall in future timesNot rob the light of love of its results.

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 powerTo make Maria’s soul-light on the earthRun smooth and evenly upon its path:For aye aforetime it must lose its mightIn souls, such as thine own was heretofore,Which would not unify their light with love.

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 wayWhich led to thine exalted sister’s soulSo long as in my heart the warmth of loveFrom love’s light ever held itself apart.The sacrifice which to the temple’s shrineThou bring’st, shall be repeated in my soul.Therein the warmth of love shall sacrificeItself unto love’s wonder-working light.

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-lifeThou hast attained to knowledge through myself.To spirit knowledge thou canst only addTrue soul-existence, when thou findest tooThine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.

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 worldsThe joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.

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 outpouredThe light and radiance of the warmth of souls.

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.

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 powerTo give my light unto men’s souls on earth.They wish to draw from darksome depths alone,What they should freely offer unto life.

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.

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 wayGives me the power to give light to the willOf both Johannes and Maria here.That it no more may follow forces blind,But from world-aims henceforth direct itself.

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 nowIn spirit in myself. Thou shalt live outThine own existence as a spirit, whenThe world’s light can behold itself in thee.

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 seeThat soul-power which did hold my will fast boundIn its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the wayUnto the temple: with the strength of willWithin my spirit I would fain point outThe path unto the temple of the soul.

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 nowEscape from my domain: how then shall theyDiscover all that springs forth from my might?So long as they did lack within their soulsThe fundaments of learning, they did stillFind joy and pleasure in my gifts, but nowI see myself compelled to let them go.

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 himselfTo rational thought, that have I shown to theeFrom me a learning streams that dare bear fruit.

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.

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 domainBefore the temple’s light can shine for thee.

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 knowIn his own soul all that, which up till nowGood Dame Felicia hath produced for him.

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 myselfI cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;And surely I shall never find againThe way that doth unto the temple lead.

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 proceedFrom 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.

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

Back to IndexNext