Children (singing, whilst Sophia accompanies them on the piano):

The light of the sun is flooding

The breadths of space;

The song of the birds is filling

The heights of the air;

The blessing of plant-life unfoldeth

Elemental Beings of earth;

And human souls in reverent gratitude,

Rise up to the spirits of the world.

Sophia:

Now, children, go to your room and think over the words we have just practised.

Estella:

How do you do, Sophy? I hope I’m not intruding?

Sophia:

Oh no, Estelle. I am very glad to see you.

Estella:

Have you good news from your husband?

Sophia:

Very good. He writes to me saying that he is interested in the Congress of Psychologists; though the manner in which they treat many great questions there does not appeal to him. However, as a student of souls, he is interested in just those methods of spiritual shortsightedness which make it impossible for men to obtain a clear view of essential mysteries.

Estella:

Does he not intend speaking on an important subject, himself?

Sophia:

Yes, on a subject that seems important both to him and to me. But the scientific views of those present at the Congress prevent his expecting any results from his arguments.

Estella:

I really came in, dear Sophy, to ask whether you would come with me this evening to a new play called Outcasts from Body and from Soul. I should so like to hear it with you.

Sophia:

I’m sorry, my dear Estelle, but tonight is the date set for the performance of the play, which our society has been rehearsing for a long time.

Estella:

Oh yes, I had forgotten. But it would have been such a pleasure to have spent this evening with my old friend. I had set my heart on having you beside me, and gazing with you into the hidden depths of our present-day life.… I only hope that this world of ideas, in which you move, and which is so strange to me, will not finally destroy that bond of sympathy, which has united our hearts since we were at school together.

Sophia:

You have often said that before; and yet [9]you have always had to admit that our divergent opinions need not erect barriers between those feelings which have existed between us in our companionship from our youth upwards.

Estella:

True, I have said so. Yet it always arouses a sense of bitterness in me, when, as the years roll on, I see how your affections are estranged from those things in life that seem to me worth while.

Sophia:

Still, we may be of much mutual help to one another if we recognize and realize the various points of view which we reach through our different inclinations.

Estella:

Yes! My reason tells me that you are right. And yet there is something in me that rebels against your view of life.

Sophia:

Why not candidly admit that what you require of me is the renunciation of my inmost soul-life?

Estella:

But for one thing, I should admit even that. And that is, that you always claim that your view is the more profound. I can readily understand that people whose conceptions differ radically may still meet in sympathy of feeling. But the nature of your ideas actually forces upon you an inner assumption of a certain superiority. Others can compare views and realize that they do indeed diverge towards different standpoints, but they nevertheless stand related by an equality of values. You, however, seem unable to do this. You regard all other views as proceeding from a lower degree of human development.

Sophia:

But you realize, I hope, from our previous discussions, that those who think as I do, do not [10]finally measure the character of man by his opinions or by his knowledge. And while we consider our ideas such, that without vital realization of them life has no valid foundations, we nevertheless try most earnestly not to over-estimate the value of the individual, who has been permitted to become an instrument for the manifestation of this view of life.

Estella:

All that sounds very well, but it does not remove my one suspicion. I cannot close my eyes to the fact, that a world-view which ascribes to itself illimitable depth must needs lead by the circuitous route of a mere appearance of such depth to a certain superficiality. I rate our friendship too high to point out to you those among your companions who, whilst they swear allegiance to your ideas, yet display spiritual arrogance of the most unmitigated sort, despite the fact that the barrenness and banality of their soul speaks in their every word and in all their conduct. Nor do I wish to call your attention to the callousness and lack of sympathy shown by so many of your adherents towards their fellow men. The greatness of your own soul has never permitted you to stand aloof from that which daily life requires at the hands of the man whom we call good. And yet the fact that you leave me alone on this occasion, when true and artistic life comes to be voiced, shows me that your ideas too with reference to this life are to a certain extent superficial—if you will forgive my saying so.

Sophia:

And wherein lies this superficiality?

Estella:

You ought to know. You have known me long enough to understand how I have wrenched myself away from that manner of life, which, day in [11]and day out, only struggles to follow tradition and convention.

I have sought to understand why so many people suffer, as it seems, undeservedly. I have tried to approach the heights and depths of life. I have consulted the sciences, so far as I could, to learn what they disclose.

But let me hold fast to the one point which this moment presents to us. I am aware of the nature of true art; I believe I understand how it seizes upon the essentials of life and presents to our souls the true and higher reality. I seem to feel the beating of the pulse of time, when I permit such art to influence me, and I am horrified when I have to think what it is which you, Sophy, prefer to this interest in living art. You turn to what seem to me the obsolete, dogmatically allegorical themes, to gaze on a show of puppets, instead of on living beings, and to wonder at symbolical happenings which stand far away from all that appeals to our pity and to our active sympathies in daily life.

Sophia:

My dear Estelle, that is exactly the fact that you will not grasp—that the richest life is to be found just there where you only see a fantastic web of thoughts: and that there may be, and are, people who are compelled to call your living reality mere poverty—if it be not measured by the spiritual source from whence it comes. Possibly my words sound harsh to you. But our friendship demands absolute frankness. Spirit itself is as unknown to you as it is to the multitude. In its place you know only the bearer of knowledge. It is only the thought side of spirit of [12]which you are aware. You have no conception of the living, the creative spirit, which endows men with elemental power, even as the germinal power of nature shapes living entities. Like many another, for instance, you call things in art which deny the spirit, as I conceive it, naïve and original. Our conception of the world unites a full and conscious freedom with the power of naïve creation. We absorb consciously that which is naïve, and do not thereby rob it of its freshness, its fulness, and its originality. You believe that the character of man shapes itself, and that we can merely form thoughts and considerations about it. You will not see that thought itself actually merges into creative spirit; reaching the very fountain of Being; and developing thence into an actual creative germ.

Our ideas do not teach, any more than the seed-power within a plant teaches it how to grow. It is the actual growth itself, and in like manner do our ideas flow into our very being, kindling and dispensing life. To the ideas that have come to me, I am indebted for all that makes life worth while; not only for the courage, but also for the insight and power that make me hopeful of so training my children, that they shall not only be capable and useful in ordinary everyday life, in the old traditional sense, but that they shall at the same time carry inward peace and contentment within their souls. I have no wish to stray from the point, but I will say just one thing. I believe—nay I know—that the dreams which you share with so many can only be realized when men succeed in uniting what they call the realities of life with those deeper experiences, [13]which you have so often termed dreams and fantasies. You may be astonished if I confess it to you: but much that seems true art to you is to me a mere fruitless critique of life. No hunger is stilled, no tears are dried, no source of degeneracy is discovered, when merely the outer show of hunger, or tear-stained faces, or degenerate beings is shown upon the stage. And the customary method of that presentation is unspeakably distant from the true depths of life, and the true relationship between beings.

Estella:

I understand your words indeed, but they merely show me that you do prefer to indulge in fancies, rather than to look upon the realities of life. Our ways, indeed, part.—I see that my friend is denied me tonight. (Rises.) I must leave you now. But we remain friends, as of old, do we not?

Sophia:

We must indeed remain friends. (While these last words are spoken, Sophia conducts her friend to the door.)

Maria:

My friend, I am indeed distressed to see

Thy spirit and thy soul in sadness droop,

And powerless to help the bond that binds

And that has bound us both for ten blest years.

E’en this same hour, filled with a portent deep

In which we both have heard and learned so much

That lightens all the darkest depths of soul,

Brought naught but shade and shadow unto thee.

Aye, after many of the speakers’ words,

My listening heart could feel the very dart

That deeply wounded thine. Once did I gaze

Into thine eyes and saw but happiness

And joy in all the essence of the world. [15]

In pictures beauty-steeped thy soul held fast

Each fleeting moment, bathed by sunshine’s glow—

Flooding with air and light the forms of men

Unsealing all the depths and doubts of Life.

Unskilled as yet thine hand to body forth

In concrete colour-schemes, those living forms

That hovered in thy soul; but in the hearts

Of both of us there throbbed the joyous faith

And certain hope that future days would teach

Thine hand this art—to pour forth happiness

Into the very fundaments of Being;

That all the wonders of thy spirit’s search

Unfolding visibly Creation’s powers

Through every creature of thine art would pour

Soul rapture deep into the hearts of men.

Such were our dreams through all those days of yore

That to thy skill, mirrored in beauty’s guise,

The weal of future men would trace its source.

So dreamed mine own soul of the goal of thine.

Yet now the vital spark of fashioning fire

That burned within thee seems extinct and dead.

Dead thy creative joy: and well-nigh maimed

The hand, which once with fresh and youthful strength

Guided thy steadfast brush from year to year.

Johannes:

Alas, ’tis true; I feel as if the fires

That erstwhile quickened in my soul are quenched.

Mine eye, grown dull, doth no more catch the gleam

Shed by the flickering sunlight o’er the earth.

No feeling stirs my heart, when changing moods

Of light and shade flow o’er the scenes around. [16]

Still lies my hand, seeking no more to chain

Into a lasting present fleeting charms,

Shown forth by magic elemental powers

From utmost depths of Life before mine eyes.

No new creative fire thrills me with joy.

For me dull monotone obscures all life.

Maria:

My heart is deeply grieved to hear that thou

Dost find such emptiness in everything

Which thrives as highest good and very source

Of sacred life itself within my heart.

Ah, friend, behind the changing scenes of life

That men call ‘Being,’ true life lies concealed

Spiritual, everlasting, infinite.

And in that life each soul doth weave its thread.

I feel afloat in spirit potencies,

That work, as in an ocean’s unseen depths,

And see revealéd all the life of men,

As wavelets on the ocean’s upturned face.

I am at one with all the sense of Life

For which men restless strive, and which to me

Is but their inner self that stands revealed.

I see, how oftentimes it binds itself

Unto the very kernel of man’s soul,

And lifts him to the highest that his heart

Can ever crave. Yet as it lives in me

It turns to bitter fruitage, when mine own

Touches another’s being. Even so

Hath this, my destiny, worked out in all

I willed to give thee, when thou cam’st in love.

Thy wish it was to travel at my side [17]

Unhesitating all the way, that soon

Should lead thee to a full and perfect art.

Yet what hath happened? All, that in mine eyes

Stood forth revealed in its own naked Truth

As purest life, brought death, my friend, to thee

And slew thy spirit.

Johannes:

And slew thy spirit. Aye. ’Tis so indeed.

What lifts thy soul to Heaven’s sun-kissed heights

When through thy life it comes into mine own

Thrusts my soul down, to death’s abysmal gloom.

When in our friendship’s rosy-fingered dawn

To this revealment thou didst lead me on,

Which sheds its light into the darkened realms,

Where human souls do enter every night,

Bereft of conscious life, and where full oft

Man’s being wanders erring: whilst the night

Of Death makes mock at Life’s reality.

And when thou didst reveal to me the truth

Of life’s return, then did I know full well

That I should grow to perfect spirit-man.

Surely, it seemed, the artist’s clear keen eye,

And certain touch of a creator’s hand,

Would blossom for me through thy spirit’s fire

And noble might. Full deep I breathed this fire

Into my being; when—behold—it robbed

The ebb and flow of all my spirit’s power.

Remorselessly it drove out from my heart

All faith in this our world. And now I reach

A point where I no longer clearly see,

Whether to doubt or whether to believe [18]

The revelation of the spirit-worlds.

Nay more, I even lack the power to love

That which in thee the spirit’s beauty shows.

Maria:

Alas! The years that pass have taught me this:

That mine own way to live the spirit-life

Doth change into its opposite, whene’er

It penetrates another’s character.

And I must also see how spirit-power

Grows rich in blessing when, by other paths,

It pours itself into the souls of men.

(Enter Philia, Astrid, and Luna.)

It floweth forth in speech, and in these words

Lies power to raise to realms celestial

Man’s common mode of thinking; and create

A world of joy, where erstwhile brooded gloom.

Aye, it can change the spirit’s shallowness

To depths of earnest feeling; and can cast

Man’s character in sure and noble mould.

And I—yes, I am altogether filled

By just this spirit-power, and must behold

The pain and desolation that it brings

To other hearts, when from mine own it pours.

Philia:

It seemed as though the voices of some choir

Mingled together, uttering manifold

Conceptions and opinions, each his own,

Of these who formed our recent gathering. [19]

Full many harmonies there were indeed,

But also many a harsh-toned dissonance.

Maria:

Ah, when the words and speech of many men

Present themselves in such wise to the soul,

It seems as though man’s very prototype

Stood centred there in secret mystery:

Become through many souls articulate,

As in the rainbow’s arch pure Light itself

Grows visible in many-coloured rays.

Capesius:

Through changing scenes of many centuries

We wandered year on year in earnest search;

Striving to fathom deep the living force

That dwelt within the souls of those who sought

To probe and scan the fundaments of being,

And set before man’s soul the goals of life.

We thought that in the depths of our own souls

We lived the higher powers of thought itself;

And thus could solve the riddles set by Fate.

We felt we had, or seemed at least to feel,

Sure basis in the logic of our mind

When new experiences crossed our path

Questioning there the judgment of our soul.

Yet now such basis wavers, when amazed

I hear today, as I have heard before,

The mode of thought taught by these people here.

And more and more uncertain do I grow,

When I perceive, how powerfully in life

This mode of thought doth work. Full many a day [20]

Have I spent thus, thinking how I might shape

Time’s riddles as they solved themselves to me

In words, that hearts might grasp and trembling feel.

Happy indeed was I, if I could fill

Only the smallest corner of some soul

Amongst my audience with the warmth of life.

And oftentimes it seemed success was mine,

Nor would I make complaint of fruitless days.

Yet all results of teaching thus could lead

Only to recognition of this truth

So loved and emphasized by men of deeds,

That in the clash of life’s realities,

Thoughts are dim shadows, nothing more nor less:

They may indeed wing life’s creative powers

To due fruition, but they cannot shape

And mould our life themselves. So have I judged

And with this modest comment was content:

Where pale thoughts only work, all life is lamed

And likewise all that joins itself to life.

More potent than the ripest form of words,

However art might weave therein her spell,

Seemed nature’s gift, man’s talents—and more strong

The hand of destiny to mould his life.

Tradition’s mountainweight, and prejudice

With dull oppressive hand will always quench

The strength of e’en the very best of words.

But that which here reveals itself in speech

Gives men, who think as I do, food for thought.

Clearly we saw the kind of consequence

That comes when sects, in superheated speech,

Blind souls of men with dogma’s seething stream.

But nought here of such spirit do we find; [21]

Here only reason greets the soul, and yet

These words create the actual powers of life,

Speaking unto the spirit’s inmost depths.

Nay even to the kingdom of the Will

This strange and mystic Something penetrates;

This Something, which to such as I, who still

Wander in ancient ways, seems but pale thought.

Impossible, it seems, to disavow

Its consequences; none the less, myself

I cannot quite surrender to it yet.

But it all speaks with such peculiar charm

And not as though it really meant for me

The contradiction of experience.

It almost seems as if this Something found

The kind of man I am, insufferable.

Strader:

I would associate myself in fullest sense

With every one of thy last spoken words:

And still more sharply would I emphasize

That all results in our soul-life, which seem

To spring forth from the influence of ideas,

Cannot in any wise decide for us

What actual worth of knowledge they conceal.

Whether there lives within our mode of thought,

Error or truth—’tis certain this alone

The verdict of true science can decide.

And no one would with honesty deny

That words, which are, in seeming only, clear,

Yet claim to solve life’s deepest mysteries,

Are quite unfit for such a scrutiny.

They fascinate the spirit of mankind, [22]

And only tempt the heart’s credulity;

Seeming to open door into that realm

Before which, humble and perplexed, now stands

The strict and cautious search of modern minds.

And he who truly follows such research

Is bound in honour to confess that none

Can know whence streams the well-spring of his thought,

Nor fathom where the depths of Being lie.

And though confession such as this is hard

For souls who all too willingly would gauge

What lies beyond the ken of mortal mind,

Yet every glance of every thinker’s soul

Whether directed to the outer side,

Or turned towards the inner depths of life,

Scans but that boundary and naught beside.

If we deny our rational intellect

Or set aside experience, we sink

In depths unfathomable, bottomless.

And who can fail to see how utterly

What passeth here for revelation new,

Fails to fit in with modern modes of thought.

Indeed it needs but little thought to see,

How totally devoid this method is

Of that, which gives all thought its sure support

And guarantees a sense of certainty.

Such revelations may warm listening hearts,

But thinkers see in them mere mystic dreams.

Philia:

Aye, thus would always speak the science, won

By stern sobriety and intellect. [23]

But that suffices not unto the soul,

That needs a steadfast faith in its own self.

She ever will give heed to words that speak

To her of spirit. All she dimly sensed

In former days, she striveth now to grasp.

To speak of the Unknown may well entice

The thinker, but no more the hearts of men.

Strader:

I too can realize how much there lies

In that objection; how it seems to strike

The idle dreamer, who would only spin

The threads of thought, and seek the consequence

Of this or that premise, which he himself

Hath formed beforehand. Me—it touches not—

No outer motive guided me to thought.

In childhood I grew up ’mid pious folk

And, following their custom, steeped my soul

In sense-intoxicating images

Of future sojourn in celestial realms,

Wherewith they seek to comfort and beguile

Man’s ignorance and man’s simplicity.

Within my boyish soul I sensed the throb

Of utmost ecstasy, when reverently

I raised my thoughts to highest spirit-worlds;

And prayer was then my heart’s necessity.

Thereafter in a cloister was I trained;

Monks were my teachers, and in mine own heart

The deepest longing was to be a monk,—

An echo of my parents’ ardent wish.

For consecration did I stand prepared

When chance did drive me from the cloistered cell; [24]

And to this chance I owe deep gratitude.

For, many days before chance saved my soul

It had been robbed of inward peace and quiet;

For I had read and learned of many things,

That have no place within the cloister-gate.

Knowledge of nature’s working came to me

From books that were forbidden to mine eyes.

And thus I learned new scientific thought.

Hard was the struggle as I sought the path

Wandering through many a way to find mine own;

Nor did I ever gain by cunning thought

Whate’er of truth revealed itself to me.

In fierce-fought battles have I torn the roots

From out my spirit’s soil of all that brought

Peace and contentment to me when a child.

I understand indeed the heart that fain

Would soar up to the heights—but for myself,

When once I recognized that all I learned

From spirit-teaching was an empty dream,

I was compelled to find the surer soil

That science and discovery create.

Luna:

We may surmise, each after his own kind,

Where sense and goal of life doth lie for each.

I altogether lack the power to prove

According to the science of today,

What spirit-teaching I have here received:

But clear within my heart I feel and know

My soul would die without this spirit-lore,

As would my body, if deprived of blood.

And thou, dear doctor, ’gainst our cause dost fight [25]

With many words, and what thou now hast told

Of thy life’s conflict lends them weight indeed

Even with those who do not understand

Thy learned argument. Yet would I ask

Exactly why it is that hearts of men

Receive the word of Spirit readily,

As though self-understood: yet when man seeks

Food for his spirit in such learned words

As thou didst use his heart grows chill and cold.

Theodora:

Although I am at home ’mid just such men

As circle round me here, yet strangely sounds

This speech I have just heard.

Capesius:

This speech I have just heard. What strangeness there?

Theodora:

I may not say. Do thou, Maria, tell.

Maria:

Our friend has oftentimes explained to us

What strange experiences come to her.

One day she felt herself completely changed,

And none could understand her altered state.

Estrangement met her wheresoe’er she turned

Until she came into our circle here.

Not that we fully understand ourselves

What she possesses and what no one shares.

Yet we are trained by this our mode of thought

The unaccustomed to appreciate, [26]

And feel with every mood of humankind.

One moment in her life, our friend perceived,

All that seemed hers aforetime, disappear;

The past was all extinguished in her soul.

And since these wondrous changes came to her,

This mood of soul hath oft renewed itself;

It doth not long endure; and other times

She lives her life as ordinary folk.

Yet whensoe’er she falls into this state,

The gift of memory doth fade away.

She loseth from her eyes the power to see

And senseth her surroundings, seeing not.

With a peculiar light her eyes then glow,

And pictured forms appear to her. At first

They seemed like dreams; anon they grew so clear,

That we could recognize without a doubt

Some prophecy of distant future days.

Full many a time have we seen this occur.

Capesius:

It is just this that little pleaseth me

Amongst these men; who mingle with good sense

And logic, superstition’s fallacies.

’Twas ever thus where men have walked this path.

Maria:

If thou canst still speak so, thou dost not yet

Perceive our attitude towards these things.

Strader:

Well, as for me, I freely must confess,

That I would sooner revelations hear [27]

Than speak of questionable spirit-themes.

For even if I fail to read aright

The riddle of such dreams, yet those at least

I count as facts; and would ’twere possible

To see one instance of the mystery

Of this strange spirit-mood before mine eyes.

Maria:

Perchance it is—for look, she comes again.

And it doth seem to me as though e’en now

This mystic spirit-mood would show itself.

Theodora:

I am compelled to speak. Before my soul

A pictured form stands wrapped in robes of light;

From which strange words are sounding in mine ears.

I feel myself in future centuries,

And men do I behold as yet unborn:—

They also see the pictured form; they too

Can hear the words it speaks, which thus resound—

‘O ye, who lived in faith’s sincerity,

Take comfort now in sight, and look on Me.

Receive new life through Me. For I am He

Who lived within the souls of those who sought

To find Me in themselves, by following

The gospel-words My messengers did bring

And by their own devotion’s inward power.

The light of sense ye saw—believe ye now

In the creative spirit-world beyond.

For now indeed ye have yourselves achieved

One atom of divine prophetic sight.

Oh, breathe it deep, and feel it in your souls.’ [28]

A human form steps from that sphere of light.

And speaks to me: ‘Thou shalt make known to all

Who will give ear to thee, that thou hast seen

What all mankind shall soon experience:

Once, long ago, Christ lived upon the earth,

And from this life ensued the consequence

That in soul-substance clad He hovers o’er

The evolution of humanity,

In union with the earth’s own spirit-sphere;

And though as yet invisible to men,

When in such form He manifests Himself,

Since now their being lacks that spirit sight,

Which first will show itself in future times;

Yet even now this future draweth nigh

When that new sight shall come to men on earth.

What once the senses saw, when Christ did live

Upon the earth; this shall be seen by souls

When soon the time shall reach its fulness due.’

Maria:

This is the first time we have heard her speak

In such a manner to so many folk.

At other times she felt constrained to speech,

Only when two or three were gathered round.

Capesius:

To me indeed it seems most curious,

That she, as though commanded or required,

Should find herself to revelation urged.

Maria:

It may so seem; but we know well her ways.

If at this moment she desired to send [29]

Her inward soul-voice deep into your souls,

The only reason was, that unto you

The source, whence came her voice, desired to speak.

Capesius:

Concerning this strange future gift of sight,

Whereof she spake, as dreaming, we have heard

That he, who of this circle is the soul,

Hath oft already given full report.

Is it not possible that from his words

The content of her speech hath origin,

The mode of utterance coming from herself?

Maria:

If matters thus did stand, we should not deem

Her words of any consequence or weight:

But we have tested this condition well.

Before she came into our circle here,

Our friend had never heard in any way

Of that same leader’s speeches, nor had we

Heard aught of her before she came to us.

Capesius:

Then what we have to deal with is a state,

Such as so often happens, contrary

To all the laws of nature; and which we

Must merely estimate as some disease.

And only healthy thought, securely based

On fully conscious sense-impressions, can

Pass judgment on the riddles set by life.

Strader:

Yet even here one fact presents itself;

And what we now have heard must have some worth— [30]

For, even if we set aside all else

It doth compel the thought that spirit-power

Can cause thought-transference from soul to soul.

Astrid:

Ah me, if ye would only dare to tread

The ground your mode of thought doth choose to shun:

As snow before the sunlight’s piercing glare

Your vain delusion needs must melt away,

Which makes the moods revealéd, in such minds

Appear diseased, abnormal, wonderful.

They are suggestive, but they are not strange.

And small this wonder doth appear to me

When I compare it with the myriad

Of wonders that make up my daily life.

Capesius:

Nay, nay, one thing it is to recognize

What lies before our eyes on every side,

But quite another, what is shown us here.

Strader:

Of spirit ’tis not necessary to speak

Until there are things shown to us which lie

Outside the strictly circled boundary

Set by the laws of scientific thought.

Astrid:

The clear shaft of the sunlight on the dew

Which glistens in the morning’s golden light,

The hurling stream that riseth ’neath the rock,

The thunder rumbling in the cloud-wrapped sky,

All these do speak to me a spirit tongue:

I strove to understand it; and I know

That of this speech’s meaning and its might,

Only a faint reflection can be glimpsed

Through your investigations, as they are.

And when that kind of speech sank deep within

My heart, I found my soul’s true joy at last.

Nor could aught else, but human words alone

And spirit teaching grant this gift to me.

Felix Balde:

Those words rang true indeed.

Maria:

Those words rang true indeed. I must essay

To tell what joy fills all my heart to see

For the first time here with us yonder man,

Of whom we oft have heard; and joy doth cause

The wish to see him here full many times.

Felix Balde:

It is not usual for me that I should

Associate with such a crowd of men:

And not alone unusual——

Felicia:

And not alone unusual—— Aye, ’tis so.

His nature drives us into solitude

Away from all; year in, year out, we hear [32]

Scarce any other converse save our own.

And if this good man here from time to time

Came not to linger in our cottage home,

We scarce should realize that other men,

Besides ourselves, live on the earth at all.

And if the man, who spake such wondrous words

But recently in yonder lecture-hall,

And who affected us so potently,

Did not full many a time my Felix meet,

When he is gone about his daily tasks,

Ye would know nought of our forgotten life.

Maria:

So the professor often visits you?

Capesius:

Assuredly. And I may tell you all,

The very deep indebtedness I feel

To this good woman, who doth give to me

In rich abundance, what none other can.

Maria:

And of what nature are these gifts of hers?

Capesius:

If I would tell the tale, then must I touch

A thing that verily doth seem to me

More wonderful than much that here I’ve heard,

In that it speaks more nearly to my soul.

And were I in some other place, these words

Would hardly pass the barrier of my lips; [33]

Yet here they seem to flow therefrom with ease.

In my soul-life there often comes a time

When it doth feel itself pumped out and dry.

It seems as though the very fountain-head

Of knowledge had run dry within my heart.

Then can I find no word of any kind

Worthy to speak or worthy to be heard.

And when I feel such spirit barrenness

I flee to these good people, and seek rest

In their reviving, peaceful solitude

Then Mistress Felix tells me many a tale

Set forth in wondrous pictures, manifold,

Of beings, dwelling in the land of dreams,

Who lead a joyous life in fairy realms.

When thus she speaks, her tone and speech recall

Some legend oft-told of the ancient days.

I ask no question whence she finds these words

But this one thing alone I clearly know:

That new life flows therefrom into my soul,

And sweeps away its dull paralysis.

Maria:

To hear such splendid witness to the skill

Of Dame Felicia doth, in wondrous wise,

Harmoniously blend in every way

With all that Benedictus told to us

About his friend’s deep hidden knowledge-founts.

Felix Balde:

He who spake words to us just now, which showed

How in the realm of universal space,

And vast eternities his spirit dwelt,

Hath surely little need to speak o’er much

Of simple men.

Benedictus:

Of simple men. Thou errest friend. For me

Infinite value hath each word of thine.

Felix Balde:

It was presumption only, and the bent

Of idle talk, when thou didst honour me

To wander at thy side our mountain paths.

Only because thou didst conceal from me

How much thyself dost know, I dared to speak.

But now our time is up, and we must go—

A long way hence doth lie our quiet home.

Felicia:

It hath been most refreshing once again

To come amongst mankind: and yet I fear

It will not happen very soon again:

There is no other life which Felix deems

Better than living in his mountain heights.

Benedictus:

Indeed I well believe his wife is right,

Nor will he come again for many days.

It needed much to bring him here today.

And yet the reason lies not in himself

Why no one knoweth aught of him or his.

Capesius:

He only seemed to me eccentric, strange;

And many an hour I found him talkative

When I was with him; but his mystic speech

And strange discourse remained obscure to me,

When he revealed all that he claims to know.

He spoke of solar beings housed in rocks;

Of lunar demons, who disturb their work;

And of the sense of number hid in plants;

And he who listens to him cannot long

Keep clear the thread of meaning in his words.

Benedictus:

And yet ’tis also possible to feel

As if the powers of Nature, through these words,

Sought to reveal themselves in their true state.

Strader:

Already do I feel forebodings strange

That now dark hours are coming in my life.

For since the days of cloistered solitude,

Where I was taught such knowledge, and thereby

Struck to the very darkest depth of soul,

Not one experience has stirred me so,

As this weird vision of the seeress here.

Capesius:

Indeed I cannot see that aught of that

Should prove unnerving. And I fear, my friend,

That if thou once dost lose thy certainty,

Dark doubt will soon envelop all thy thought.

Strader:

Too true! And ’tis the fear of just this doubt

That causeth me full many an anxious hour

From my experience I know nought else

Of this strange gift of seership, save that when

Life’s vexing problems sorely trouble me,

Then, ghostlike, riseth from dark spirit-depths,

Before my spirit’s eyes, some phantom form

Like some dream-being, grim and terrible,

Pressing with fearful weight upon my soul,

And clutching horribly around my heart.

It seems to speak right through me words like these:

‘If thou dost fail to gain the victory

O’er me with those blunt weapons of thy thought,

Thou art a fleeting phantom, nothing more,

Formed by thine own deluded imagery.’

Theodosius:

That is the destiny of all such men,

As do approach the world by thought alone.

The spirit’s voice dwells deep in every soul.

Nor have we strength to pierce the covering

That spreads itself before our faculties.

Thought doth bring knowledge of things temporal,

Of things that vanish in the course of time:

The everlasting and all spirit-truth

Are found but in the inner depths of man.

Strader:

If, then, the fruitage of a pious faith

Is able to give rest to weary souls,

Such souls may wander safely in that path, [37]

And find sufficiency within themselves.

And yet the power of knowledge, pure and true,

Doth never bloom on such a path as this.

Theodosius:

Yet there can be no other way to light

True spirit-knowledge in the hearts of men.

Pride may seduce and change to fantasies

The soul’s true depths of feeling, and may see

A vision only where faith’s beauty lies.

One thing alone of all we here have heard

From spirit-teaching of the higher worlds,

Strikes clear upon our honest human sense:

That only in the spirit-world itself

The soul can feel itself in its true home.

The Other Maria:

So long as man feels need of speech alone,

And nought besides, so long such words as these

May satisfy him: but the fuller life

With all its strife, its yearnings after joy,

And all its sorrow, needeth other food

To nourish and sustain the fainting soul.

For me, an inner voice did drive me on

To spend all the remaining days of life

Which were allotted me, in helping those

Whom stress of destiny had smitten down

And plunged in deepest poverty and need.

And far more oft I found it necessary

To soothe the anguish of the soul of man

Than heal his body’s pain and suffering.

But I have felt indeed in many ways [38]

My will’s weak impotence to comfort men.

So that I am compelled to seek fresh strength

From out the treasured store which floweth forth

Abundantly from spirit-sources here.

The quickening warmth of words which greet mine ear,

Flows forth with magic force into my hands;

And thence, like healing balsam, forth again,

When those hands touch some sorrow-laden soul.

It changeth on my lips to strengthening words

Which carry comfort unto pain-racked hearts.

The source of words like these I do not ask;

I feel their truth—they give me living life.

And every day more clearly do I see,

That they derive their strength not from my will

In all its weakness, but create anew

Myself each day unto myself again.

Capesius:

Yet surely there are men enough on earth

Who, though they lack such revelation’s aid,

Perform innumerable deeds of good?

Maria:

In sooth there is no lack of men like these

In many places; but my friend doth mean

A different thing; and if thou didst but know

The life she led, thou wouldst speak otherwise.

Where unused powers in full abundance dwell

There love will cause the seed to germinate

In rich abundance in the heart’s good soil.

But our friend here exhausted life’s best powers [39]

In never-ending toil beyond her strength;

And all her will to live lay crushed and dead

Beneath the cruel weight of destiny,

Which fell upon her. All her strength she gave

To careful guidance of her children’s weal:

And low already had her courage ebbed

When early death took her loved husband home.

In such a state as this, days dull and drear

Seemed all fate had in store whilst life remained.

But then the powers of destiny prevailed

To bring her ’neath the spell of spirit-lore;

And soon with us she felt the vital force

Of life break forth in her a second time.

Fresh aims in life she found, and with them came

Fresh courage once again to fight and strive.

And thus in her the spirit hath achieved

In very truth to fashion from decay

A new and living personality.

And when the spirit in such fruit as this

Shows its creative potency, we learn

Its nature, and the way it speaks to us.

And, if no pride lies hidden in our speech,

And highest moral aims live in our hearts;

If we believe that in no way at all

Our teaching is our own;—but that alone

The spirit shows itself within our souls—

Then may we surely venture to assert

That in thy mode of thinking may be found

But feeble shadows waving to and fro

Athwart the real true source of human life:

And that the spirit, which ensouls our work

Is linked in inward harmony with all [40]

That weaves the web of destiny for man

Deep in the very fundaments of life.

I have been privileged for many years

To give myself to vital work in life:

And during all this time more bleeding hearts

And yearning souls have come before mine eyes,

Than many would conceive were possible.

I do esteem thy high ideal flight,

The proud assurance of thy sciences:

I like to see the student-audience,

Respectful, sit and listen at thy feet:

And that to many souls thy work doth bring

Ennobling clarity of thought, I know.

But yet regarding thought like this, it seems,

Trustworthiness can only dwell therein

So long as thought lives in itself alone.

Whereas the realm of which I am a part

Sends into deep realities of life

The fruitage of its words, since it desires

To plant in deep realities its roots.

Far, far away from all thy thought doth lie

The written word upon the spirit-heaven

Which with momentous tokens doth announce

New growth upon the tree of humankind.

And though indeed such thought seems clear and sure

As follows faithfully the ancient path,

Yet can it only touch the tree’s coarse bark,

And never reach the marrow’s living power.

Romanus:

For my part I do seek in vain the bridge

That truly leadeth from ideas to deeds.

Capesius:

On one side thou dost over-estimate

The power which can be wielded by ideas,

And on the other thou dost fail to grasp

The actual course of true reality:

For it is certain that ideas must form

The germ of all the actual deeds of men.

Romanus:

If this friend doth so many deeds of good,

The impulse thereunto lies in herself

And her warm-hearted nature, not in thought.

Most certainly ’tis necessary for man,

Whene’er he hath accomplished any work,

To find foundation for it in ideas.

But yet ’tis only schooling of man’s will

In harmony with all his skill and power

To undertake some real work in life

Which will help forward all the human race.

When whirr of busy wheels sounds in mine ears,

Or when I see some creaking windlass drawn

By strong stout hands of men content to work,

Then do I sense indeed the powers of Life.

Germanus:

Often in careless speech have I maintained

That I preferred things droll and humorous

And held these only full of wit and charm,

Deeming that for my brain at any rate,

They always would provide material

Best fitted to fill up the time that lies

Between my recreation and my work. [42]

But now quite tasteless to me seem such things;

The Power Invisible hath conquered me;

And I have learned to feel that there may be

More powerful forces in humanity,

Than all our wit’s frail castles in the air.

Capesius:

And did it seem that nowhere else but here

’Twas possible to find such spirit-powers?

Germanus:

Indeed the life I lived did offer me

Full many a type of intellectual works:

Yet cared I not to pluck or taste their fruit.

But this strange mode of thought which blossoms here

Seemed to attract and draw me to itself

However little I desired to come.

Capesius:

Most pleasant hath this hour of converse been,

And we are debtors to our hostess here.

Johannes:

Oh, stay a little while yet by my side,

I am afraid:—so desperately afraid:—

Maria:

What is it aileth thee, my friend? Speak forth.

Johannes:

The first cause was our leader’s speech; and then

The chequered converse of these people here. [43]

It all hath moved and stirred me through and through.

Maria:

But how could simple speeches such as these

Seize on thine heart with such intensity?

Johannes:

Each word seemed in that moment unto me

A dreadful symbol of our nothingness.

Maria:

Indeed it was significant to see

Pour forth in such short time so many kinds

Of life and man’s conflicting tendencies,

In all the speeches that we lately heard.

Yet ’tis indeed a most peculiar trait

Of life, as it is lived amongst us here,

To bring to speech the inner mind of man;

And much that otherwise comes slowly forth,

Stands here revealed in little space of time.

Johannes:

A mirrored picture ’twas of fullest life

That showed me to myself in clearest lines:

This spirit-revelation makes me feel

That most of us protect and train one trait

And one alone in all our character,

Which thus persuades itself it is the whole.

I sought to unify these many traits

In mine own self and boldly trod the path

Which here is shown, to lead unto that goal; [44]

And it hath made of me a nothingness.

Keenly I feel what all these others lack,

And yet I sense as keenly that they all

Have actual part in life itself, whilst I

Stand but on unsubstantial nothingness.

It seemed whole lines of life ran into one

Significant in those brief speeches here.

But then mine own life’s portrait also rose

And stood forth vividly within my soul.

The days of childhood first were painted there,

With all its fulness and its joy in life:

Then came the picture of my youthful prime

With that proud hopefulness in parent-hearts

Awakened by the talents of their son.

Then dreams concerning my career in art,

Which formed life’s all in those old happy days,

Surged up from out my spirit’s inmost depths

Exhorting to fulfil my cherished hopes;

And then those dreams in which thyself didst see

How I translated into coloured form

The spirit-life that liveth in thy soul.

Then saw I tongues of fire spring up and lick

Around my youthful dreams and artist hopes,

Reducing all to dust and nothingness.

Thereafter rose another pictured form

From out that drear and dreadful nothingness—

A human form, which once had linked its fate

In faithful love with mine in days long past.

She sought to hold me by her when I turned

Long years ago unto my home again,

Called to attend my mother’s funeral rites. [45]

I heeded not, but tore myself away.

For mighty was the power that drew me here

To this thy circle and the goals of life

Which here are set before our eager gaze.

In those dark days I felt no sense of guilt

When I did rend in twain the bond of love,

That was unto another soul its life.

Nor later when the message came to me

How that her life did slowly pine away,

And finally was altogether quenched

Did I feel aught of guilt until today;

But full of meaning were those recent words

In yonder chamber which our leader spake;

How that we may destroy by power misused

And perverse thought the destiny of those

Whom bonds of loving trust link to our souls.

Ah, hideously these words again resound

Out of the picture, thence re-echoing

With ghastly repetition from all sides:

‘Her murderer thou art! her hast thou slain!’

Thus whilst this weighty speech hath been for all

The motive to probe deep within themselves,

Within my heart it hath brought forth alone

The consciousness of this most grievous guilt.

By this new means of sight I can perceive

How far astray my striving footsteps erred.

Maria:

And at this moment, friend, in dark domains

Thou walkest, and none else can help thee there,

Save he, in whom we all do put our trust.

Helena:

I feel constrained to linger by thy side

A little while; since now for many weeks

Thy gaze hath held so much of grief and care.

How can the light, which streams so radiantly

Bring gloom unto thy soul, which only strives

With utmost strength to seek and know the truth?

Johannes:

Hath then this light brought naught but joy to thee?

Helena:

Not the same joy as that which once I knew,

But that new joy which springeth from those words,

Through which the spirit doth reveal itself.

Johannes:

Natheless I tell thee that the self-same power,

Which doth in thee create, can also crush.

Helena:

Some error must have crept into thy soul

With cunning tread, if this be possible;

And if dull care instead of happiness,

And moods of sorrow flow forth from the source

Of truth itself instead of spirit-bliss

In free abundance: seek then in thyself

The stumbling-blocks that thus impede thy way.

How often are we told that only health

Is the true fruitage of our teaching here,

Which makes to blossom forth the powers of life.

Shall it then show the contrary in thee? [47]

I see its fruitage in so many lives,

Which, trusting me, find union in themselves.

Their former mode of life grows day by day

Strange and still stranger to such souls as these;

As well-springs are fresh opened in their hearts,

Thenceforth renewing life within themselves.

To gaze into the primal depths of being

Doth not create those passionate desires

Which torture and torment the souls of men.

Johannes:

It took me many years to understand

And know the vanity of things of sense

When spirit-knowledge is not joined with them

In close and intimate companionship:

And yet one single moment proves to me

That e’en the highest wisdom’s words may be

But vanity of soul in man’s own self.

(There sounds from the springs and rocks:)

Know thou thyself, O man.

Johannes:

’Tis thus I hear them, now these many years,

These words of weighty import all around,

(hear them in the wind and in the wave:

Out from earth’s depths do they resound to me:

And as a tiny acorn’s mystery,

Confines the structure of a mighty oak,

So in the kernel of these words there lies,

All elemental nature; all I grasp

Of soul, of spirit, time, eternity.

It seems mine own peculiarities

And all the world besides live in these words:

‘Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself.’

(From the springs and rocks resounds:)

Know thou thyself, O man.

Johannes:

Know thou thyself, O man. And now—I feel

Mine inmost being terrified to life:

Without the gloom of night doth weave me round,

And deep within my soul thick darkness yawns:

And sounding from this universal gloom

And up from out the darkness of my soul

These words ring forth: ‘Know thou thyself, O man.’

(From the springs and rocks resounds:)

Know thou thyself, O man.

Johannes:

It robs me of my very self: I change

Each hour of day, and am transformed by night.

The earth I follow on its cosmic course:

I seem to rumble in the thunder’s peal,

And flash adown the lightning’s fierce-forked tongue—

I AM.—Alas, already do I feel

Mine own existence snatched away from me.

I see what was my former carnal shape,

As some strange being, quite outside myself,

And infinitely far away from me.

But now another body hovers near,

And through its mouth I am compelled to speak:—

‘Ah, bitter sorrow hath he brought to me;

So utterly I trusted him of old.

He left me lonely with my sorrow’s pain,

He robbed me of the very warmth of life,

And thrust me deep beneath the chill, cold ground.’

Poor soul, ’tis she I left, and leaving her

It was in truth mine own self that I left; [50]

And I must suffer all her pain and woe.

For knowledge hath endowed me with the power

Myself into another’s self to fuse.

Ah me! Ye quench again by your own power

The light of inner knowledge ye have brought,

Ye cruel words, ‘Know thou thyself, O man.’

(From the springs and rocks resounds:)

Know thou thyself, O man.

Johannes:

Ye lead me back again within the sphere

Of mine own being’s former fantasies.

Yet in what shape know I myself again!

My human form is lost and gone from me;

Like some fierce dragon do I see myself;

Begotten out of primal lust and greed.

And clearly do I see how up till now

Some dim deluding veil of phantom forms

Hath hid from me mine own monstrosity.

Mine own self’s fierceness must devour my Self.

And through my veins run like consuming fire

Those words, that once with elemental force

Revealed the core of suns and earths to me.

They throb within my pulse, beat in mine heart;

And even in mine inmost thoughts I feel

Strange worlds e’en now blaze forth like passions fierce.

They are the fruitage of these very words:

‘Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself,’

(From the springs and rocks resounds:)

Know thou thyself, O man.

Johannes:

There,—from that dark abyss, what creature glares?

I feel the chains that hold me chained to thee.

So fast was not Prometheus rivetted

Upon the naked rocks of Caucasus,

As I am rivetted and forged to thee—

Who art thou, fearful, execrable shape?

(From the springs and rocks resounds:)

Know thou thyself, O man.

Johannes:

Oh yea, I know thee; for thou art myself:

Knowledge doth chain to thee, pernicious beast,

Chain mine own self to thee, pernicious beast.

I willed to flee from thee; but I was blind,

Blinded by glamour of the worlds, whereto

My folly fled to free me from myself;

And now once more within my sightless soul

Blind through these words: ‘Know thou thyself, O man.’

(From the springs and rocks resounds:)

Know thou thyself, O man.

Johannes: (As though coming to himself, sees Maria. The meditation passes to the plane of inner reality.)

Know thou thyself, O man. Thou here, my friend?

Maria:

I sought thee, friend, although I know full well

How comforting to thee is solitude, [52]

When many varying thoughts of many men

Have flooded o’er thy soul. I also know

I cannot by my presence help my friend

In this dark hour of strife—yet yearnings vague

Drive me in this same moment unto thee;

When Benedictus’ words, instead of light,

Such grievous sorrow drew from thy soul’s depths.

Johannes:

How comforting to me is solitude!

Yea, I have sought to find myself therein,

So often when to labyrinths of thought

The joys and griefs of men had driven me.

But now, O friend, that, too, is past and gone.

What Benedictus’ words at first aroused

Within my soul, and all that I lived through

When listening to the speeches of those men,

Seems but indeed a little thing, when I

Compare therewith the storm that solitude

With sullen brooding hath brought forth in me.

Ah me! when I recall this solitude!

It hounded me into the voids of space,

And tore me from my very self in two.

Within that soul to whom I brought such pain

I stood, as though I were some other man.

And there I had to suffer all the pain

Of which I was myself the primal cause.

Ah cruel, sombre, fearful solitude

Thou giv’st me back unto myself indeed,

Yet but to terrify me with the sight

Of mine own nature’s fathomless abyss. [53]

Man’s final refuge hath been lost to me:

I have been robbed of solitude itself.

Maria:

I must repeat what I have said before.

Alone can Benedictus succour thee;

Only from him may we obtain support

And that firm basis which we both do lack.

For know thou this: I also can no more

Endure the riddle of my life, unless

His gentle guidance solveth it for me.

Full often have I kept before mine eyes

This truth sublime, that o’er all life doth float

Appearance and deception if we grasp

Life’s surface only in our moods of thought.

And o’er and o’er again it spake to me:

Thou must take knowledge how illusion’s veil

Weaves all around thee; and however oft

It may appear to thee as truth, beware;

For evil fruitage may in truth arise

If thou shouldst try within another’s soul

To wake the light that lives within thyself.

Yet in the best part of my soul I know

That even this oppressive weight of care

Which hath o’erwhelmed thy soul, dear friend of mine,

As thou didst tread with me the path of life,

Is part and parcel of the thorny way,

That leads unto the light of Truth itself.

Thou must live through each horror and alarm

That can spring forth from vain imagining

Before the Truth in essence stands revealed.

Thus speaks thy star; and by that same star speech [54]

It doth appear to me that we shall walk

One day united, on the spirit-paths.

And yet whene’er I seek to tread these paths

Black night doth spread a curtain round my sight.

And many things that I must live and do,

Which spring as fruitage from my character,

Intensify the darkness of that night.

We two must seek clear vision in that light,

Which, though it vanish for a while from sight,

Can never be extinguished in the soul.

Johannes:

But then, Maria, dost thou realize

Through what my soul hath fought its way but now?

A grievous destiny awaiteth thee,

Most noble friend. For well I know that far

From thy pure nature lies that potent force,

That hath so wholly shattered me to bits.

Thou canst ascend the clearest heights of truth,

And scan with steadfast gaze life’s tangled path;

And whether in the darkness or the light

Thou wilt retain thine own identity.

But me each moment may deprive of Self.

Deep down I had to dive within the hearts

Of those who late revealed themselves in speech.

I followed one to cloistered solitude,—

And in another’s soul I listened to

Felicia’s fairy lore. I was each one;

Only unto myself I seemed as dead;

For I must fain believe that primal life

Did spring from very Nothingness itself,

If it were right to entertain the hope, [55]

That out of that dread nothingness in me

A human being ever could arise.

For I am driven from fear into the dark

And from the darkness back again to fear

By wisdom stored within these living words:

‘Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself.’

(From the springs and rocks the words resound:)

Know thou thyself, O man.

Maria:

I bring to thee this child who needs some word

From out thy mouth.

Benedictus:

From out thy mouth. My child, henceforth each eve

Thou shalt come unto me to hear the word

That shall fill full thy soul ere thou dost tread

The realm of souls in sleep. Wilt thou do this?

Child:

Most gladly will I come.

Benedictus:

Most gladly will I come. This very eve

Fill thy soul full ere sleep embraceth thee, [57]

With strength from these few words: ‘The powers of light

Bear me aloft unto the spirit’s home.’

Maria:

And now, that this child’s destiny doth flow

Harmoniously through future days beneath

The shadow of thy gracious fatherhood,

I too may claim my leader’s kind advice,

Who am its mother, not by bond of blood

But through the mighty power of destiny.

For thou hast shown to me the way wherein

I had to guide its footsteps from that day,

When I discovered it before my door

Left by its unknown mother desolate.

And wonder-working proved themselves those rules

Whereby thou madest me train my foster-child.

All powers, that deep in body and in soul

Lay hidden, issued forth to light and life:

Clear proof it was that all thy counselling

Sprang from the realm which sheltered this child’s soul

Before it built its body’s covering.

We saw the hopes of manhood blossom forth

And radiate more brightly each new day;

Thou dost know well how hard it was for me

To gain the child’s affection, at the first.

It grew up ’neath my care, and yet nought else

Save habit chained its soul at first to mine.

It only realized and felt that I

Gave it the nurture and the food that served

The needs of body and the growth of soul.

Then came the time when in the child-like heart [58]

There dawned the love for her who fostered it.

An outer incident brought forth this change—

The visit of the seeress to our group.

Gladly the child did go about with her

And soon did learn full many a beauteous word

Steeped in the mystic charm that graced her speech.

Then came the moment when her ecstasy

Descended on our friend with magic power.

The child could see her eyes’ strange smouldering light,

And, terrified unto its vital core,

The young soul dawned to consciousness of self.

In her dismay she fled unto mine arms;

And from that hour did grow her love for me.

Since that same time she doth accept from me

The gifts of life with her full consciousness

Not with blind instinct: aye, and since that day

When this young heart first quivered into warmth,

Whene’er her gaze met mine with loving glance,

Thy wisdom’s treasures of their fruitage failed,

And much already ripe hath withered up.

I saw appear in her those tokens strange

That proved so terrible unto my friend.

A dark enigma am I to myself,

And grow still darker. Thou wilt not deny

To solve for me life’s fearful questionings?

Why do I thus destroy both friend and child,

When I in love approach my work with them

To give them knowledge of that spirit-lore

Which in my soul I know to be the good?

Oft hast thou taught me this exalted truth— [59]

‘Illusion’s veil o’erspreads life’s surfaces’—

Yet must I see with greater clarity

Why I must bear this heavy destiny,

That seems so cruel and which works such harm.

Benedictus:

Within our circle there is formed a knot

Of threads that Karma spins world-fashioning.

Thy sufferings, my friend are links in chains,

Forged by the hand of destiny, whereby

The deeds of gods unite with human lives.—

When in life’s pilgrimage I had attained

That rank which granted me the dignity

To serve with counsel in the spirit-spheres,

A godlike Being did draw nigh to me,

Who would descend into the realms of earth,

And dwell there, veiled in form of flesh, as man.

For just at this one turning-point of time

The Karma of mankind made this demand.

For each great step in world-development

Is only possible when gods do stoop

To link themselves with human destiny.

And this new spirit-sight that needs must grow

And germinate henceforth in souls of men

Can only be unfolded when a god

Doth plant the seed within some human heart.

My task it was to find that human soul

Which worthy seemed to take within itself

The powerful Seed of God. I had to join

The deed of heaven to some human lot.

My spirit’s eye then sought, and fell on thee. [60]

Thy course of life had fitted thee to be

The mediator in salvation’s work.

Through many former lives thou hadst acquired

Receptiveness for all the greatest things

That human hearts can e’er experience.

Within thy tender soul thou didst bring forth,

As spirit heritage, the noble gift

Of beauty, joined to virtue’s loftiest claim:

And that which thine eternal Self had formed

And brought to being through thy birth on earth

Did reach ripe fruitage when thy years were few.—

Too soon thou didst not scale steep spirit-heights;

Nor grew thy yearning for the spirit-land

Before thou hadst the full enjoyment known

Of harmless pleasures in the world of sense.

Anger and love thy soul did learn to know

When thy thoughts dwelt yet far from spirit-life.

Nature in all her beauty to enjoy,

And pluck the fruits of art,—these didst thou strive

To make thy life’s sole content and its wealth.

Merry thy laughter, as a child can laugh

Who hath not known as yet life’s shadowed fears.

And thus thou learn’dst to understand life’s joy,

And mourn its sadness, each in its own time,

Before thy dawning conscience grew to seek

Of sorrow and of happiness the cause.

A ripened fruit of many lives that soul,

That enters earth’s domains, and shows such moods.

Its childlike nature is the blossoming

And not the ground-root of its character.

And such a soul alone was I to choose

As mediator for the God, who sought [61]

The power to work within our human world.

And now thou learnest that thy nature must

Transform itself into its opposite,

When it flows forth to other human souls.

The spirit in thee ripens whatsoe’er

In human nature can attain the realm

Of vast eternity; and much it slays

That is but part of transitory realms.

And yet the sacrifices of such deaths

Are but the seeds of immortality,

All that which blossoms forth from death below

Must grow unto the higher life above.

Maria:

E’en so it is with me. Thou giv’st me light:

But light that doth deprive me of my sight,

And sunder me from mine own self in twain.

Then do I seem some spirit’s instrument

No longer master of myself. No more

Do I endure that erstwhile form of mine

Which only is a mask and not the truth.

Johannes:

O friend, what ails thee? Vanished is the light

That filled thine eye: as marble is thy frame.

I grasp thine hand and find it cold as death.

Benedictus:

My son, full many trials have come to thee;

And now thou stand’st before life’s hardest test.

Thou seest the carnal covering of thy friend;

But her true self doth float in spirit-spheres

Before mine eyes.

Johannes:

Before mine eyes. See! Her lips move; she speaks.

Maria:

Thou gav’st me clearness; yet this clearness throws

A veil of darkness round on every side.

I curse thy clearness; and I curse thee too,

Who didst make tool of me for weird wild arts

Whereby thou willedst to deceive mankind.

No doubt at any moment hitherto

Had crossed my mind of heights thy spirit reached;

But now one single moment doth suffice

To tear all faith in thee from out my heart.

Those spirit-beings thou art subject to,

I now must recognize as hellish fiends.

Others I had to mislead and deceive

Because at first I was deceived by thee.—

But I will flee unto dim distances,

Where not a sound of thee shall reach mine ears;

Yet near enough that thy soul may be reached

By bitter curses framed by these my lips.

For thou didst rob my blood of all its fire,

That thou mightst sacrifice to thy false god

That which was rightly mine and mine alone.

But now this same blood’s fire shall thee consume.

Thou madest me trust in vain imaginings;

And that this might be so, thou first didst make

A pictured falsehood of my very self.

Often had I to mark how in my soul

Each deed and thought turned to its opposite;

So now doth turn what once was love for thee,

Into the fire of wild and bitter hate. [63]

Through all worlds will I seek to find that fire

Which can consume thee. See—I cur—Ah—woe!

Johannes:

Who speaketh here? I do not see my friend.

I hear instead some gruesome being speak.

Benedictus:

Thy friend’s soul hovers in the heights above.

Only her mortal image hath she left

Here with us: and where’er a human form

Is found bereft of soul, there is the room

Sought by the enemy, the foe of good,

To enter into realms perceptible,

And find some carnal form through which to speak.

Just such an adversary spake e’en now,

Who would destroy the work imposed on me

For thee, my son, and millions yet unborn.

Were I to deem these wild anathemas,

Which our friend’s shell did utter here and now,

Aught else but some grim tempter’s cunning skill,

Thou durst not follow more my leadership.

The enemy of Good stood by my side,

And thou hast seen into the darkness plunged

All that is temporal of that dear form,

For whom, my son, thy whole love burns and glows.

Since through her mouth spirits spake oft to thee,

The Karma of the world could not restrain

Hell’s princes also speaking thus through her.

First now thou mayst seek her very soul

And learn her nature’s inmost verity;

For she shall form for thee the prototype [64]

Of that new higher type of humankind

To which thou dost aspire to raise thyself.

Her soul hath soared aloft to spirit-heights,

Where every man may find his being’s source

Which springs to life and fulness in himself.

Thou too shalt follow her to spirit-realms,

And see her in the Temple of the Sun.—

Within this circle there is formed a knot

Of threads which Karma spins, world fashioning.

My son, since thou hast now attained thus far,

Thou shalt still further pierce beyond the veil.

I see thy star in fullest splendour shine.

There is no place within the realm of sense

For strife, such as men wage when they do strive

And struggle after consecration’s gift.

The riddles which arise in worlds of sense

Must find solution through man’s intellect;

From all that sense engenders in man’s heart

Whether of love or hate, whate’er its source

And howsoever direful its results,

The spirit-seeker needs must stand aloof,

Whence he may cast his glance all undisturbed

Upon the fields where such contentions rage.

For him must other powers unfold themselves

Which are not found upon that field of strife.

So didst thou need to fight to prove thy soul

In combat such as comes to him alone,

Who finds himself accoutred for such powers

As do belong unto the spirit-worlds.

And had these powers found thee not ripe enough

To tread the path of knowledge, they needs must

Have maimed thy powers of feeling, ere thou daredst [65]

To know all that which now is known to thee.

The Beings, who can gaze into world-depths,

Lead on those men, who would attain the heights,

First to that summit whence it may be shown

Whether there lies in them the power to reach

To conscious sight within the spirit-realms.

And those in whom such powers are found to lie

Are straightway from the world of sense set free.

The others all must wait their season due.

But thou, thou hast preserved thy Self, my son,

When Powers on high stirred to its depths thy soul.

And potent spirits shrouded thee with fear.

Right powerfully thy Self hath fought its way

E’en though thy very heart was torn by doubts,

That willed to thrust thee into darksome depths.

True pupil of my teaching hast thou been,

First since that hour, so fraught with fate for thee,

When thou didst learn to doubt thy very self,

And gavest up thyself as wholly lost,

But yet the strength within thee held thee fast.

Then might I give thee of my treasured store

Of wisdom, whence to draw the strength to stand

Assured, e’en when mistrusting thine own self.

Such was the wisdom which thou didst attain

More steadfast than the faith once given to thee.

Ripe wast thou found, and thou may’st be set free.

Thy friend hath gone before and waits for thee

In spirit-worlds, and thou shalt find her there.

I can but add this guidance for thee now:

Kindle the full power of thy soul with words

Which through my lips shall grant to thee the key

To spirit-heights, and they will lead thee on [66]

When naught else leads, that eyes of sense can see.

Receive them in the fulness of thy heart:

‘The weaving essence of the light streams forth

Through depths of space to fill the world with light;

Love’s grace doth warm the centuries of time

To call forth revelation of all worlds.

And spirit-messengers come forth to wed

The weaving essence of creative light

With revelation of the souls of men:

And that man, who can wed to both of these

His very Self, he lives in spirit-heights.’

O spirits, who are visible to man,

Quicken with life the soul of this our son:

From inmost depths may there stream forth for him

That which can fill his soul with spirit-light.

From inmost depths may there resound for him

That which can wholly wake in him his Self

To the creative joy of spirit-life.

A Spirit-Voice behind the stage:

To founts of worlds primeval

His surging thoughts do mount;—

What as shadow he hath thought

What as fancy he hath lived

Soars up beyond the world of form and shape;

On whose fulness pondering

Mankind in shadow dreams,

O’er whose fulness gazing forth

Mankind in fancy lives.

Lucifer:

O man, know thou thyself; O man, feel me.

From spirit guidance, thou hast freed thyself,

And into earth’s free realms thou hast escaped.

Midst earth’s confusion thou didst seek to prove

Thine own existence; and to find thyself

Was thy reward, and was thy destiny.

Me didst thou find: for certain spirits willed

To cast a veil before the eyes of sense;

Which veil I rent in twain. Those spirits willed

To follow out their own desires in thee;

But I gave thee self-will and foiled their aim.

O man, know thou thyself; O man, feel me.

Ahriman:

O man, know me; O man, feel thou thyself.

Thou hast escaped from darkened spirit-realms

And thou hast found again the earth’s pure light,

So now from my sure ground drink strength and truth. [68]

I make earth hard and fast. The spirits willed

To snatch away from thee the charm of sense;

Which charm I weave for thee in light condensed.

I lead thee unto true reality.

O man, know me; O man, feel thou thyself.

Lucifer:

Time was not when thou didst not live through me.

I followed thee throughout the course of life,

And was permitted to bestow on thee

Strong personal traits and joy in thine own self.

Ahriman:

Time was not when thou didst not me behold.

Thy mortal eyes saw me in all earth’s growth;

I was permitted to shine forth for thee

In beauty proud and revelation’s bliss.

Johannes (to himself in meditation):

This is the sign as Benedictus told.

Before the world of souls stand these two powers:

The one, as Tempter, lives within the soul;

The other doth obscure the sight of man

When he directeth it to outward things.

The one took on the woman’s form e’en now,

To bring the soul’s illusions ’neath my gaze;

The other may be found in everything.

Spirit:

So have ye reached the spot ye longed to find.

It proved indeed a heavy care to me,

To grant your wish. Spirits and elements

Did rage in mad wild storm when their domain

I had to enter with your essences.

Your minds opposed the ruling of my powers.

Capesius:

Mysterious Being, who art thou, who hast

Brought me to this fair realm through spirit-spheres?

Spirit:

The soul of man may only look on me,

Whene’er the service which I render it

Hath been achieved. Then may it trace my powers

Through all the moving sequences of time.

Capesius:

It matters little to me to enquire

What spirit led me hither to this place.

I feel life’s powers revive in this new land,

Whose light doth seem to widen mine own breast;

In my pulse-beat I feel the whole world’s might;

And premonitions of exalted deeds

Thrill in my heart. I will translate in words [70]

The revelation of this beauteous realm,

That hath refreshed me in such wondrous wise;

And souls of men shall bloom, as choicest flowers

If I can pour into their life on earth

The inspiration flowing from these founts.

Strader:

Why quake the depths, and why resound the heights?

When hope’s young dreams surge upward in the soul?

Spirit:

To human dreamers words of hope like these

Sound proud indeed; but in the depths of earth

The vain illusions of mistaken thought

Awake such thunderous echoes evermore.

Ye mortals hear them only at those times

When ye draw nigh to my domain. Ye think

To build exalted temples unto Truth,

And yet your work’s effects do but unchain

Storm-spirits in primeval depths of earth.

Nay more, the spirits must destroy whole worlds,

That deeds ye do in realms where time hath sway

May not cause devastation and cold death

Through all the ages of eternity.

Strader:

So these eternal ages must regard

As empty fantasy what seems the truth

To man’s best observation and research.

Spirit:

An empty fantasy, so long as sense

Doth only search in realms to spirit strange.

Strader:

Thou may’st well call a dreamer that friend’s soul

Which in the joy of youth its goal doth set

With such a noble strength and high desire;

But in mine aged heart thy words fall dead

Despite their summoned aid of thunderous storms.

I tore myself from cloistered quietude

To proud achievement in my search for truth.

In life’s storm-centres many a year I stood,

And men had confidence in me, and what

I taught them through my deep strong sense for truth.

Spirit:

’Tis fitting for thee to confess that none

Can tell whence stream the fountains of our thought,

Nor where the fundaments of Being lie.

Strader:

Oh this same speech, which in youth’s hopeful days

So oft with chill persistence pierced my soul

When thought-foundations quaked, which once seemed firm!

Spirit:

If thou dost fail to gain the victory

O’er me with those blunt weapons of thy thought [72]

Thou art a fleeting phantom, nothing more,

Formed by thine own deluded imagery.

Strader:

So soon again such gruesome speech from thee!

This too I heard before in mine own soul,

When once a seeress threateningly did wish

To wreck the firm foundations of my thought

And make me feel the sharp dread sting of doubt.

But that is past, and I defy thy might,

Thou aged rogue, so cunningly concealed

Beneath a mask devised by thine own self

To counterfeit the form of nature’s lord.

Reason will overthrow thee, otherwise

Than thou dost think, when once she is enthroned

Upon the proud heights of the mind of man.

As mistress will she reign assuredly

Not as some handmaiden in nature’s realm.

Spirit:

The world is ordered so, that every act

Requires a like reaction: unto you

I gave the self; ye owe me my reward.

Capesius:

I will myself create from mine own soul

The spirit counterpart of things of sense.

And when at length all nature stands transformed,

Idealized through man’s creative work,

Her mirrored form shall be reward enough;

And then if thou dost feel thyself akin

To that great mother of all worlds, and spring’st [73]

From depths where world-creating forces reign.

Then let my will, which lives in head and breast,

Inspiring me to aim at highest goals,

Be thy reward for deeds done at my best.

Thy help hath raised me from dull sentiment

To thought’s proud heights—Let this be thy reward!

Spirit:

Ye well can see, how little your bold words

Bear weight in my domain: they do but loose

The storm, and rouse the elements to wrath,

Fierce adversaries of the ordered world.

Capesius:

Take then thine own reward where’t may be found.

The impulse that doth drive the souls of men

To seek true spirit-heights within themselves

Set their own measure, their own order make.

Creation were not possible for man

If others wished to claim what he had made.

The song that trills from out the linnet’s throat

Sufficeth for itself; and so doth man

Find his reward, when in his fashioning work

He doth experience creative joy.

Spirit:

It is not meet to grudge me my reward.

If ye yourselves cannot repay the debt

Then tell the woman, who endowed your souls

With power, that she must pay instead of you.

Capesius:

He hath departed. Whither turn we now?

To find our way aright in these new worlds

Must be, it seems, the first care of our minds.

Strader:

To follow confidently the best way,

That we can find, with sure but cautious tread,

Methinks should lead us straightway to the goal.

Capesius:

Rather should we be silent as to goal.

That we shall find if we courageously

Obey the impulse of our inner self,

Which speaks thus to me: ‘Let Truth be thy guide;

May it unfold strong powers within thyself

And mould them with the noblest fashioning

In all that thou shalt do; then must thy steps

Attain their destined goal, nor go astray.’

Strader:

Yet from the outset it were best our steps

Should not lack consciousness of their true goal,

If we would be of service unto men

And give them happiness. He, who would serve

Himself alone, doth follow his own heart;

But he, who wills to serve his neighbour best,

Must surely know his life’s necessities.

But see! What wondrous being’s this? It seems [75]

As though the rock itself did give it birth.

From what world-depths do such strange forms arise?

The Other Maria:

I wrest my way through solid rock, and fain

Would clothe in human speech its very will;

I sense earth’s essence and with human brains

I fain would think the thoughts of Earth herself.

I breathe the purest airs of life, and shape

The powers of air to feel as doth mankind.

Strader:

Then thou canst not assist us in our quest.

For far aloft from men’s endeavour stands

All that which must abide in nature’s realm.

Capesius:

Lady, I like thy words, and I would fain

Translate thy form of speech into mine own.

The Other Maria:

Most strange doth seem to me your proud discourse.

For, when ye speak yourselves, unto mine ear

Your words do sound incomprehensible.

But if I let them echo in my heart

And issue in new form, they spread abroad

O’er all that lives in mine environment

And solve for me its hidden mystery.

Capesius:

If this, thy speech, be true, then change for us

Into thy speech, that nature may respond, [76]

The question of the true worth of our lives.

For we ourselves lack power to question thus

Great mother nature that we may be heard.

The Other Maria:

In me ye only see an humble maid

Of that high spirit-being, which doth dwell

In that domain whence ye have just now come.

There hath been given me this field of work

That here in lowliness I may show forth

Her mirrored image unto mortal sense.

Capesius:

So then we have just fled from that domain

Wherein our longing could have been assuaged?

The Other Maria:

And if ye do not find again the way,

Your efforts shall be fruitless evermore.

Capesius:

Then tell which way will lead us back again.

The Other Maria:

There are two ways. If my power doth attain

To its full height all creatures of my realm

Shall glow in beauty’s most resplendent dress.

From rocks and water, glittering light shall stream,

And colours in their richest fulness flash

On all around, whilst life in merry mood

Shall fill the air with joyous harmony.

And if your souls do then but steep themselves [77]

In mine own being’s purest ecstasy

On spirit pinions shall ye wing your way

Unto primeval origins of worlds.

Strader:

That is no way for us; for in our speech

We name such talk mere fancy, and we fain

Would seek firm ground, not fly to cloud-capped heights.

The Other Maria:

Then if ye wish to tread the other path

Ye must forthwith renounce your spirit’s pride.

Ye must forget what reason doth command,

And let the touch of nature conquer you.

In your men’s breasts let your child-soul have sway,

Artless and undisturbed by thought’s dim shades.

So will ye surely reach Life’s fountain-head,

Although unconscious of the way ye go.

Capesius:

Thus are we thrown back on ourselves alone,

And have but learned that it behoveth us

To work and wait in patience for the fruit

That future days shall ripen from our work.

Johannes (speaking, as it were, from his meditation. Here and in the following scene he sits aside and takes no part in the action):

So do I find within the soul’s domain

Those men who are already known to me:

First he who told us of Felicia’s tales, [78]

Though here I saw him in his youthful prime;

And also he who in his younger days

Had chosen for his life monastic rule,

As some old man did he appear: with them

There stood the Spirit of the Elements.

Benedictus (in the East):

Ye, who have been companions unto me

In the domain of everlasting life,

Here in your midst I stand today to ask

The help of which I stand in need from you

To weave the thread of destiny for one,

Who from our midst must now receive the light.

Through bitter trials and sorrows hath he passed,

And hath in deepest agony of soul

Prepared the way to consecrate his life

And thus attain to knowledge of the truth.

Accomplished now the task assigned to me,

As spirit-messenger, to bring to men

The treasured wisdom of this temple’s shrine.

And now, ye brethren, ’tis your sacred task

To bring my work to full accomplishment.

I showed to him the light that proved the guide

To his first vision of the spirit-world,

But that this vision may be turned to truth

Your work must needs be added unto mine. [80]

My words proceed from mine own mouth alone,

But through your lips world-spirits do sound forth.

Theodosius (in the South):

Thus speaks the power of love, which bindeth worlds

And filleth beings with the breath of life:—

Let warmth flow in his heart that he may grasp

How by the sacrificing of that vain

Illusion of his personality

He doth draw near the spirit of the world.

His sight from sleep of sense thou hast set free;

Love’s warmth will wake the spirit in his soul:

His Self from carnal covering thou hast drawn;

And love itself will crystallize his soul

That it may be a mirror to reflect

All that doth happen in the spirit-world.

Love too will give him strength to feel himself

A spirit, and will fashion thus his ear

That it can hear and know the spirit-speech.

Romanus (in the West):

Nor are my words the revelation true

Of mine own self. Through me the world-will speaks.

And since thou hast thus raised unto the power

To live in spirit-realms the man to thee

Entrusted, now this power shall lead him forth

Beyond the bounds of space and ends of time.

To those realms shall he pass wherein do work

Creative spirits, who shall there reveal

Themselves to him; demanding from him deeds;

And willingly will he perform their work.

The purposes of Him who moulds the worlds [81]

Shall fill his soul with life; there too the earth’s

Primeval sources shall enspirit him;

World potencies shall there empower him;

The mights of spheres shall there enlighten him,

And rulers of the worlds fill him with fire.

Retardus (in the North):

From the foundation of the world ye have

Been forced to suffer me within your midst.

So must ye also to my words give ear

In your deliberations here today.

Some little time must surely yet elapse

Before ye can fulfil and bring to pass

What ye have set forth in such beauteous words.

No sign as yet hath come to us from earth

That she doth long for new initiates.

So long as this spot, where we council hold,

Hath not been trodden by the feet of those

Who, uninitiate still, cannot set free

Their spirit from realities of sense,

So long the task is mine to check your zeal.

First must they bring us message that the earth

Doth seem in need of revelations new.

For this cause hold I back your spirit-light

Within this temple, lest it may bring harm

Instead of health to souls that are not ripe.

Out of myself I give to man on earth

That faculty which lets the truths of sense

Appear to him the highest, just so long

As spirit wisdom would but blind his eyes.

Nay more, e’en such belief may also lead

Him nearer to the spirit, for the aims [82]

Formed by his will may yet be guided right

Through his blind tastes and gropings in the dark.

Romanus:

From the foundation of the world we have

Been forced to suffer thee within our midst.

But now at length the time hath run its course

That was allotted to such work as thine.

The world-will in me feels that they approach—

—Who, uninitiated, can release

The spirit from the outward show of sense.

No more ’tis granted thee to check our steps.

They near our temple of their own free will

And bring to thee this message, that they wish

To help our spirit labours, joined with us.

They found themselves till now not yet prepared

For union, since they clung to that belief

That seership’s power with reason needs must part.

Now have they learned whither mankind is led

By reason, which, when severed from true sight,

Doth err and wander in the depths of worlds.

They now will speak to thee of fruits which needs

Must ripen through thy power in human souls.

Retardus:

Ye, who unconsciously have forwarded

My work till now, ye shall still further help—

If ye will distant keep from all that doth

Belong unto my realm and that alone. [83]

Then shall ye surely find a place reserved

For you to work as hitherto ye worked.

Felix Balde:

A power, which speaks from very depths of earth

Unto my spirit, hath commanded me

To come unto this consecrated place;

Since it desires to speak to you through me

Of all its bitter sorrow and its need.

Benedictus:

My friend, then tell us now how thou hast learned

The woe of world-depths in thine own soul’s core.

Felix Balde:

The light that shines in men as learning’s fruit

Must needs give nourishment to all the powers

Which serve world-cycles in the earth’s dark depths.

Already now a long time have they starved

Well-nigh entirely reft of sustenance.

For that which grows today in human brains

Doth only serve the surface of the earth,

And doth not penetrate unto its depths.

Some strange new superstition now doth haunt

These clever human heads: they turn their gaze

Unto primeval origins of earth

And will but spectres see in spirit spheres,

Thought out by vain illusion of the sense.

A merchant surely would consider mad

A purchaser, who would speak thus to him:

‘The mists and fog, that hover in the vale,

Can certainly condense to solid gold; [84]

And with such gold thou shalt be paid thy debt.’

The merchant will not willingly await

To have his ducats made from fog and mist;

And yet whene’er his soul doth thirst to find

Solution of the riddles set by life,

Should science offer him such payments then

For spirit needs and debts, right willingly

Will he accept whole solar systems built

Out of primeval world-containing fog.

The teacher who discovers some unknown

And luckless layman, who hath raised himself

To heights of science or of scholarship

Without examinations duly passed

Will surely threaten him with his contempt.

Yet science doth not doubt that without proof

And without spirit earth’s primeval beasts

Could change themselves to men by their own power.

Theodosius:

Why dost thou not thyself reveal to men

The sources of this light of thine, which streams

Forth from thy soul with such resplendent ray?

Felix Balde:

A fancy-monger and a man of dreams

They call me, who are well-disposed to me:

But others think of me as some dull fool

Who, all untaught of them, doth follow out

His own peculiar bent of foolishness.

Retardus:

Thou show’st already how untaught thou art

By the simplicity of this thy speech: [85]

Thou dost not know that men of science have

Sufficient shrewdness to make just the same

Objection to themselves as unto thee.

And if they make it not they know well why.

Felix Balde:

I know full well that they are shrewd enough

To understand objections they have made,

But not so shrewd as to believe in them.

Theodosius:

What must we do that we may forthwith give

The powers of earth what they do need so much?

Felix Balde:

So long as on the earth men only heed

Such men as these, who wish not to recall

Their spirit’s primal source, so long will starve

The mineral forces buried in earth’s depths.

The Other Maria:

I gather, brother Felix, from thy words,

That thou dost think the time hath now expired

When we did serve earth’s purposes the best

Through wisdom’s light, ourselves unconsecrate—

When we showed forth from roots in our own life

The living way of spirit and of love.

In thee the spirits of the earth arose

To give thee light without the lore of books:

In me did love hold sway, the love that dwells

And works within the life of men on earth.

And now we wish to join our brethren here,— [86]

Who, consecrate, within this temple serve,—

And bring forth fruitful work in human souls.

Benedictus:

If ye unite your labour now with us,

Then must the consecrated work succeed.

The wisdom which I gave unto my son

Will surely blossom forth in him as power.

Theodosius:

If ye unite your labour now with us,

Then must the thirst for sacrifice arise.

And through the soul life of whoever seeks

The spirit-path, will breathe the warmth of love.

Romanus:

If ye unite your labour now with us,

Then must the fruits of spirit ripen fast.

Deeds will spring up, which through the spirit’s work

Will blossom from your soul’s discipleship.

Retardus:

If they unite their labour now with you

What shall become of me? My deeds will prove

Fruitless to those who would the spirit seek.

Benedictus:

Then wilt thou change into thine other self:

Since now thou hast accomplished all thy work.

Theodosius:

Henceforth thou wilt live on in sacrifice

If thou dost freely sacrifice thyself.

Romanus:

Thou wilt bear fruit on earth in human deeds

If I myself may tend the fruits for thee.

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

The brethren in the temple showed themselves

To my soul-sight, resembling in their form

Men whose appearance I already know.

Yet Benedictus seemed a spirit too.

He who stood on his left seemed like that man

Who through the feelings only would draw nigh

The spirit-realms. The third resembled him,

Who doth but recognize the powers of life

When they show forth through wheels and outward works.

The fourth I do not know. The wife who saw

The spirit’s light after her husband’s death,

I recognized in her own inmost being.

And Felix Balde came just as in life.

Felicia:

Thou calledst me. What wouldst thou hear of me?

Spirit:

Two men did I present unto the earth

Whose spirit-powers were fructified through thee.

They found their soul’s awakening in thy words

When meditation dry had lamed them both.

Thy gifts to them make thee my debtor too.

Their spirit doth not of itself suffice

To render full repayment unto me

For all the service which I did for them.

Felicia:

For many years one of these men did come

To our small cottage, that he might obtain

The strength that lent unto his words their fire.

Later he brought the other with him too;

And so they two consumed the fruits, whose worth

Was then unknown to me: but little good

Did I receive from them as recompense. [89]

Their kind of knowledge to our son they gave,

With good intent indeed, but yet the child

Found nought therein but death unto his soul.

He grew to manhood steeped in all the light,

His father Felix, through the spirit-speech,

Taught him from fountains and from rocks and hills:

To this was joined all that had lived and grown

In my own soul from my first childhood’s years;

And yet our son’s clear spirit-sense was killed

By the deep gloom of sombre sciences.

Instead of some blithe happy child, there grew

A man of desert soul and empty heart.

And now forsooth thou dost demand of me

That I should pay what they do owe to thee!

Spirit:

It must be so, for thou at first didst serve

The earthly part in them; and so through me

The spirit bids thee now complete the work.

Felicia:

’Tis not my wont to shrink from any debt;

But tell me first what detriment will grow

In mine own self from this love-service done?

Spirit:

What thou at first didst do for them on earth,

Robbed of his spirit-powers thine only son;

And what thou givest to their spirits now

Is lost henceforth to thee from thine own self;

Which lessening of the powers of life in thee

Will show as ugliness in thine own flesh.

Felicia:

They robbed my child of all his spirit-power,

And in return I needs must wander forth

A monster in the sight of men, that fruits

May ripen for them, which work little good!

Spirit:

Yet thy work aids the welfare of mankind

And leads as well to thine own happiness.

Thy mother’s beauty and thy child’s own life

Will blossom for thee in a loftier way,

When one day in the souls and hearts of men,

New spirit-powers shall seed and fructify.

Felicia:

What must I do?

Spirit:

What must I do? Mankind thou hast inspired

Full often with thy words. Inspire then now

The spirits of the rocks: in this same hour

Thou must bring forth from out thy treasured store

Of fairy pictures some one tale to give

Those beings who do serve me in my work.

Felicia:

So be it then:—A being once did live

Who flew from East to West, as runs the sun.

He flew o’er lands and seas, and from this height

He looked upon the doings of mankind.

He saw how men did one another love,

And, how in hatred they did persecute.

Yet naught could stay this being in his flight, [91]

For love and hatred none the less bring forth

Full many thousand times the same results.

Yet o’er one house—there must the being stay;

For therein dwelt a tired and weary man,

Who pondered on the love of humankind,

And pondered also over human hate.

His contemplations had already graved

Deep furrows on his brow; his hair was white.

And, grieving o’er this man, the being lost

His sun-guide’s leadership, and stayed with him

Within his room e’en when the sun went down.

And when the sun arose again, once more

The being joined the spirit of the sun;

And once again he saw mankind pass through

The cycle of the earth in love and hate.

But when he came, still following the sun,

A second time above that selfsame house,

His gaze did fall upon a man quite dead.

Germanus:

A man once lived, who went from East to West:

Whose eager thirst for knowledge lured him on

O’er land and sea; and with his wisdom’s sight

He looked upon the doings of mankind.

He saw how men did one another love,

And, how in hatred they did persecute;

And at each turn of life the man did note

How blind was wisdom’s eye to probe its depths. [92]

For, though the world is ruled by love and hate,

Yet could he not combine them into law.

A thousand single cases wrote he down

Yet still he lacked the comprehending eye.

This dull, dry seeker after truth once met

Upon his path a being formed of light;

Who found existence fraught with heaviness

Since it must live in constant combat with

A darksome being formed of shadows black.

‘Who art thou then?’ the dry truth-seeker asked.

‘Love,’ said the one; the other answered, ‘Hate.’

But these two beings’ words fell on deaf ears;

The man heard not, but wandered blindly on

In his dry search for truth from East to West.

Felicia:

And who art thou, who thus against my wish

Dost parody my words in his own way

Until they sound a very mockery?

Germanus:

Only a dwarf-like image of me lives

In man, and therein many things are thought,

That are but mockery of their own selves.

When I do show them in the actual size,

In which they do appear within my brain.

Felicia:

And therefore dost thou also mock at me?

Germanus:

I must right often ply this trade of mine;

Yet mostly men do hear me not, so now [93]

I seized for once this opportunity

To speak as well where men can hear my words.

Johannes (out of his meditation):

This was the man, who of himself did say

That spirit-light grew of its own accord

Within his brain; and Dame Felicia came,

Just like her husband, as she is in life.

Maria:

Ye sisters, who so often proved of old

My helpers, help me also in this hour;

That I may cause to vibrate in itself

The ether of the worlds. Let it resound

In harmony, and thus resounding reach

And permeate a soul with knowledge true.

Signs can I see which guide us to our work;

For your work must unite itself with mine.

Johannes, he who strives, by our designs

To real existence shall be lifted up.

The brethren in the temple counsel took

How they should guide him to the heights of light

Out of the depths, and they expect of us

To fill his soul with power for such high flight.

Thou shalt absorb for me, my Philia,

The light’s clear essence from the breadths of space;

And fill thyself with all the charm of sound,

Which wells from out the soul’s creative power; [95]

That thou mayst then impart to me the gifts

Which thou dost gather from the spirit’s depths.

Then can I weave their perfect harmonies

In the soul-stirring rhythmic dance of spheres.

Thou, Astrid, too, loved mirror of my soul,

Thou shalt produce within the flowing light,

The power of shade that colours may shine forth;

Thou shalt give shape to formless harmonies,

That as world-substance weaveth to and fro

It may sound forth upon its living way.

So am I able to entrust to man,

When he doth seek, a spirit-consciousness.

And thou, strong Luna, firm in thine own self,

E’en like the living marrow, which doth grow

Within the centre of the tree, do thou

Unite unto thy sisters’ gifts thine own;

Impress thereon thy personality,

That he who seeks may wisdom’s surety find.

Philia:

With clearest essence of the light will I

From world-wide breadths of space myself imbue;

From distant ether-bounds will I breathe deep

Living sound-substance that such things may cause

Thy work, beloved sister, to succeed.

Astrid:

I will weave through the beaming web of light

Subduing darkness, and I will condense

The living sounds, that, sounding, they may glow,

And glowing, sound; that thou mayst thus direct,

Beloved sister, soul-life’s radiant beam.

Luna:

Soul-substance will I warm; and will make hard

The living ether; that they may condense,

And feel themselves as living entities

With active power to fashion their own life;

That thou, beloved sister, mayst create

True wisdom’s surety in man’s seeking soul.

Maria:

From Philia’s realm shall stream forth conscious joy;

And water nymphs with their transforming power

Shall then unfold receptiveness of soul;

That the awakened one may undergo

And live the mirth and sorrow of the world.

From Astrid’s web shall grow the joy of love;

And sylphs, that live in air, shall then incite

The soul’s desire to willing sacrifice;

That thus the consecrated one may give

New life to sorrow-laden souls of men,

And comfort those who crave for happiness.

From Luna’s power shall stream forth solid strength;

And salamanders with their fiery breath

Shall then create security of soul;

That he who knows may find himself again

In weaving soul-streams and the life of worlds.

Philia:

I shall implore the spirits of the world

That their own being’s light may so enchant

The senses of the soul; and their words’ sound

So fill with happiness the spirit ears;

That he, whose wakening nears, may thus ascend

The path of souls unto celestial heights.

Astrid:

The streams of love, which warm the worlds, will I

Direct unto his consecrated heart;

That he may bring into his work on earth

The grace of heaven, and create desire

For consecration in the hearts of men.

Luna:

From earth’s primeval powers will I implore

Courage and strength, that may lay them deep

Within the seeker’s heart; that confidence

In his own Self may guide him through his life.

Then shall he feel secure in his own soul

And pluck each moment’s ripened fruit, and draw

The seeds therefrom to found eternities.

Maria:

With you, my sisters, joined in noble work

I shall succeed in what I long to do.

But hark! There rises to our world of light

The cry of him who hath been sorely tried.

Johannes:

’Tis thou, Maria! Then my suffering

Hath at the last born richest fruit for me.

It hath withdrawn me from the phantom shape

Which I at first did make out of myself,

And which then held me fast, a prisoner.

Pain do I thank for thus enabling me

To reach thee o’er the pathways of the soul.

Maria:

And what then was the path that led thee here?

Johannes:

I felt myself from bonds of sense released:

My sight was freed from that close barrier,

Which hid all but the present from mine eyes.

Quite otherwise I viewed the life of one

I knew on earth, and looked beyond the space

Bound by the present moment’s narrow ring.

Capesius, who in his older years

Hath but employed the sight of sense—this man

The spirit placed before my soul a youth,

As first he entered on life’s thorny path

Full of those dreams of hope, which ofttimes brought

A group of faithful hearers to his feet.

And Strader, also could I see e’en thus

As he appeared in earthly life when young,

E’er he had full outgrown his cloistered youth:

And I could see what he might once have been,

If he had followed out in that same way

The goal he set before himself of old.

And only those who in their earthly life

Are filled already with the spirit’s power

Appear unchanged within the spirit-realms.

Both Dame Felicia and good Felix too

Had kept the forms in which they lived on earth,

When I beheld them with my spirit’s sight.

And then my guides showed kindness unto me,

And spake of gifts which shall one day be mine

When I can reach to wisdom’s lofty heights.

And many things besides have I beheld

With spirit-organs which sense-sight at first

Had shown to me in its own narrow way.

For judgment’s all-illuminating light [99]

Irradiated this new world of mine.

But whether I lived in some shadowy dream,

Or whether spirit-truth surrounded me

Already, I could not as yet decide.

Whether my spirit-sight was really stirred

By other things, or whether mine own self

Expanded into some world of its own,

I knew not. Then didst thou appear thyself;

Not as thou seemest at the present time,

Nor as the past beheld thee; nay—I saw

Thee as thou art in spirit evermore.

Not human was thy nature: in thy soul

Clear could I recognize the spirit-light,

Which worked not as man clothed in flesh doth work.

As spirit did it act, that strives to do

Such work as in eternity hath root.

And only now, when I dare stand complete

In spirit nigh thee, doth the full light glow.

In thee my sight of sense already grasped

Reality so fast, that certainty

Doth meet me even here in spirit-realms;

And well I know that now before me stands

No phantom shape. ’Tis thy true character

In which I met thee yonder, and in which

’Tis now permitted me to meet thee here.

Theodora:

I feel compelled to speak. A glow of light

From out thy brow, Maria, upward mounts.

This glow takes shape, and grows to human form.

It is a man with spirit deep imbued,

And other men do gather round his feet. [100]

I gaze into dim times, long passed away

On that good man who rose from out thy head:

His eyes do shine with perfect peace of soul;

And deep true feeling glows in every line

And feature of his noble countenance.

A woman facing him mine eye doth see,

Who listens with devotion to the words

Proceeding from his mouth; which words I hear,

And thus they sound: ‘Ye have unto your gods

Looked up with awed devotion until now.

These gods I love, as ye love them yourselves.

They did present unto your thought its power,

And planted courage in your heart; but yet

Their gifts spring from a higher spirit still.’

I see how rage doth spread amongst the throng

At this man’s words. I hear their mad wild cries:

‘Kill him; for he desires to take from us

The gifts the gods have given to our race.’

But unconcernedly the man speaks on.

He tells now of that God in human form,

Who did descend to earth and conquer death.

He tells of Christ; and as his words flow on

The souls around grow calm and pacified.

One only of the heathen hearts resists,

And swears it will wreak vengeance on the man.

I recognize this heart; it beats again

In yonder child, that nestles at thy side.

The messenger of Christ speaks to it thus:

‘Thy fate doth not permit thee to draw nigh

In this life; but I shall wait patiently,

For thy path leads thee to me in the end.’

The woman who doth stand before the man [101]

Falls at his feet and feels herself transformed.

A soul prays to the God in human form;

A heart doth love God’s messenger on earth.

Maria:

Johannes, that which dawneth in thy mind

Thou shalt awaken to full consciousness.

E’en now within thee hath thy memory

Wrenched itself free from fetterings of sense.

Thou hast found me, and thou hast felt myself,

As we were joined in former life on earth.

Thou wast the woman whom the seeress saw,

For so didst thou lie prostrate at my feet,

When I as messenger of Christ did come

Unto thy tribe in days long since gone by.

What in Hibernia’s consecrated shrines

Was then entrusted to me by that God,

Who dwelt in human form, and did become

A conqueror o’er all the powers of death,

I had to bring to tribes, in whom still lived

A soul that brought a willing sacrifice,

To mighty Odin, and with sorrow thought

Upon the death of Balder, god of light.

The power, which from that message grew in thee,

Attracted thee to me from the first day

Thine eyes of sense beheld me in this life.

And since it strove so mightily in us,

And yet remained unrecognized by both,

It wove into our life those sufferings,

Which we o’ercame. Yet in that pain itself

There lay the power to guide us on our way [102]

To spirit-realms, where we might recognize

And know in very truth each other’s soul.

Intolerably did thy pain increase

Through all the men who thronged thee round about,

With whom by fate’s decree thou art conjoined.

Hence was the revelation of their selves

Able so fiercely to convulse thine heart.

These men hath Karma gathered round thee now,

To wake in thee the power that once did urge

Thee on the path of life, which selfsame power

Hath thus far roused thee, that, from body freed,

Thou couldst ascend into the spirit-world.

Thou standest nearest to my soul, since thou

Hast kept through pain thy steadfast faith in me.

And therefore hath it fallen to my lot

That consecration to complete in thee,

To which thou owest this thy spirit-light.

The brethren, who within the temple serve,

Have wakened sight in thee; yet canst thou know

That what thou seest is very truth indeed,

Only when thou dost find in spirit-realms

A being, unto whom in worlds of sense

Thou wast united in thine inmost soul.

And that this being might thus meet thee here,

Before thee did the brethren send me out.

And this did prove the hardest of thy tests,

When I was summoned here to wait for thee.

Our leader, Benedictus, did I ask

To solve for me the riddle of my life,

That seemed to be so cruel and unkind;

And blessedness streamed from his every word,

Telling of his own mission and of mine. [103]

He told me of the spirit I must serve

With all the power which I have found in me.

And at his words it seemed to me as though,

All in a moment clearest spirit-light

Streamed through and through my soul, and suffering

Was changed to joyous blessedness; one thought

Alone then filled my soul;—he gave me light,

Yea, light, that gave to me the power of sight;—

It was the will that lived within the thought

Wholly to give myself to spirit-life,

To make me ready for the sacrifice

Which would unto our leader draw me near.

This thought did generate the highest power:

It gave wings to my soul and wafted me

Into that realm where thou hast found me now.

In that same moment when I felt released

From my sense body, I was free to turn

My spirit’s eye upon thee, and I saw

Not only thee, Johannes, standing there;

I saw the woman too, that followed me

In ancient times; and had bound close to mine

Her destiny. E’en thus was spirit-truth

Revealed to me in spirit-realms through thee,

Who in the world of sense already wast

Made one with me in inmost consciousness.

So did I gain this spirit-certainty

And was endowed to give it unto thee.

Sending a ray of highest, tenderest love

To Benedictus, I went on before;

And he hath given unto thee the power

To follow me into the spirit-spheres.

Benedictus:

Ye here have found yourselves in spirit-realms

And so it is permitted unto me

To stand once more beside you in these realms.

I could confer the power that urged you here,

But I could not conduct you here myself.

Thus read the law, which I must needs obey:—

Ye must through your own selves first gain the eye

Of spirit, which doth here make visible

My spirit to you. Ye have just begun

E’en now the path of spirit-pilgrimage.

Henceforth indeed upon the plane of sense

Endowed with novel powers shall ye both stand,

And with the spirit in your hearts unsealed

The cause of human progress shall ye serve,

For Fate itself hath so united you,

That ye together may unfold the powers

Which needs must serve divine creative work.

And as ye journey on the path of souls

Wisdom herself will teach you that the heights

May only be obtained by souls of men,

Who have gained spirit-certainty, when they

Unite in faith to do salvation’s work.

My spirit-guidance hath united you

To realize each other: now do ye

Unite yourselves to do the spirit’s work.

May powers that dwell within this realm confer

On you through these my lips this Word of strength:—

‘The weaving essence of the light streams forth

From man to man to fill all worlds with truth.

The grace of love spreads warmth from soul to soul

To work out bliss eternal for all worlds. [105]

And spirit-messengers come forth to wed

Man’s works of love and grace to cosmic aims.

And when a man who dwells amongst mankind

Can wed these twain, there doth stream forth on earth

True spirit-light from his warm loving soul.’

Sophia:

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

Estella:

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

Sophia:

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

Estella:

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

Sophia:

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

Estella:

The construction of the play was admirable. The artist wished to show how a young painter loses all his creative desire, because he begins to doubt [107]his love for a woman. She had endowed him with the power to develop his promising talents. Pure enthusiasm for his art had produced in her the most beautiful love of sacrifice. To her he owed the fullest development of his abilities in his chosen field. He blossomed, as it were, in the sunshine of his benefactress. Constant association with this woman developed his gratitude into passionate love. This caused him to neglect, more and more, a poor creature who was faithfully devoted to him, and who finally died of grief, because she had to confess to herself that she had lost the heart of the man she loved. When he heard of her death, the news did not seriously disturb him, for his heart belonged entirely to his benefactress. Yet he grew ever more and more certain that her noble feeling of friendship for him would never turn to passionate love. This conviction drove all creative joy from his soul, and his inner life grew constantly more desolate. In this condition of life the poor girl, whom he had forsaken, came again into his mind, and a wrecked life was all that resulted from a hopeful and promising man. Without prospect of a single ray of light he pined away. All this is portrayed with intense dramatic vividness.

Sophia:

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

Estella:

My dear Sophy; you misunderstand me. I can easily distinguish between what is real and what is merely artistic. And criticism fails, I know, if one [108]carries into it the feelings one had in life. What stirred me here so deeply was the really perfect representation of a deep problem of life. I was once again able to realize clearly how art can only mount to such heights, when it keeps close to the fulness of life. As soon as it departs therefrom, its works are untrue.

Sophia:

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

Estella:

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

Sophia:

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

Estella:

There I really cannot follow you.

Sophia:

A vivid grasp of real truth must needs create in the heart a sense of a certain poverty in works [109]of art. For of course the greatest artist is always a novice compared with nature in her perfection. The most accomplished artist fails to give me what I can get from the revelation of a landscape or a human countenance.

Estella:

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

Sophia:

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

Estella:

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

Sophia:

That is just why so many works of art are imperfect; for the creative function leads of itself [110]beyond nature, and the artist cannot know the appearance of what is outside his senses.

Estella:

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

Sophia:

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

Estella:

Au revoir, dear Sophy.

Sophia:

Good-bye, dear Estelle.

Johannes:

I think those are the final touches now,

And feel that I may call my work complete.

Especial pleasure hath it given me

Thy nature to interpret through mine art.

Capesius:

This picture is a marvel unto me

And its creator a still greater one.

For naught, which men like me have up till now

Considered possible, can be compared

With this change that hath taken place in thee.

One only can believe, when actual sight

Compels belief. We met three years ago;

And I was then allowed to count myself

A member of that small community,

In which thou didst attain thine excellence.

A man of sad demeanour wast thou then,

Witness each glance and aspect of thy face.

Once did I hear a lecture in thy group,

And at the end felt urged to add thereto

Words that were wrenched with pain from out my soul. [112]

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. [113]

But now I must admit that them hast changed

My point of view. I hear thee oft repeat

That thine artistic skill depends alone

Upon the gift to function consciously

In other worlds; and that thou canst implant

Naught in thy work but what thou hast first seen

In spirit worlds: indeed thy works do show

How spirit stands revealed in actual life.

Strader:

Never so little have I understood

Thy speech; for surely in all artists’ work

The living spirit is thus manifest.

How therefore doth thy friend, Thomasius,

Differ from other masters in his art?

Capesius:

Ne’er have I doubted that the spirit shows

Itself in man, who none the less remains

Unconscious of its nature. He creates

Through this same spirit, but perceives it not.

Thomasius however doth create

In worlds of sense what he in spirit-realms

Can consciously behold; and many times

Hath he assured me, that, for men like him,

No other method of creation serves.

Strader:

Thomasius is a marvel unto me,

And freely I admit this picture here

Hath first revealed to me in his true self

Capesius, whom I thought I knew full well. [114]

In thought I knew him; but his work doth show

How little of him I had really known.

Maria:

How comes it, doctor, that thou canst admire

The greatness of this work so much, and yet

Canst still deny the greatness of its source?

Strader:

What hath my wonder at the artist’s work

In common with my faith in spirit-sight?

Maria:

One can indeed admire a work, e’en when

One hath no faith in that which is its source;

Yet in this case there would be naught to rouse

Our admiration, had this artist not

Trodden the path that led to spirit-life.

Strader:

Yet still we must not say that whosoe’er

Doth to the spirit wholly give himself

Will consciously be guided by its power.

The spirit power creates in artists’ souls,

E’en as it works within the trees and stones:

Yet is the tree not conscious of itself.

And only he, who sees it from without,

Can recognize the spirit’s work therein.

So too each artist lives within his work

And not in spiritual experience.

But when mine eyes now on this picture fall,

I do forget all that allures to thought;

The very soul-force of my friend doth gleam [115]

From out those eyes, and yet—they are but paint!

The seeker’s thoughtfulness dwells on that brow;

And e’en his noble warmth of words doth stream

From all the colour-tones with which thy brush

Hath solved the mystery of portraiture.

Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!

And yet they are not; they seem visible

Only to vanish straightway from my sight.

The moulding too doth seem like colour’s work;

And yet it tells of spirit intertwined

In every line, and many things besides,

That are not of itself.—Where then is that

Whereof it speaks? Not on the canvas there,

Where only spirit-barren colours lie.

Is it then in Capesius himself?

But why can I perceive it not in him?

Thomasius, thou hast so painted here

That what is painted doth destroy itself,

The moment that the eye would fathom it.

I cannot grasp whereto it urgeth me.

What must I grasp from it? What should I seek?

I fain would pierce this canvas through and through

To find what I must seek within its depths;

To find where I may grasp all that which streams

From this same picture into my soul’s core.

I must attain it.—Oh—deluded fool!

It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,

A ghost I cannot see, nor have I power

Which doth enable me to focus it.

Thou dost paint ghostly things, Thomasius,

Ensnaring them by magic in your work.

They do allure us on to seek for them, [116]

And yet they never let themselves be found.

Oh—how I find your pictures horrible!

Capesius:

My friend, in this same moment hast thou lost

The thinker’s peace of mind. Consider now,

If from this picture some ghost speaks to thee

Then I myself must surely ghostly be.

Strader:

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

Capesius:

Ah, speak but good, not evil, of this hour!

For though thou seemed’st to have lost thyself,

Yet in reality thou wast upraised

Far, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,

Even as I myself full oft have felt.

At such times, howsoe’er one feels oneself

Strong-armoured at all points with logic’s might,

One can but be convinced that one is seized

By some strange power that can have origin

Not in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.

Who hath endowed this picture with such power?

To me it seems the symbol in sense-life

Of soul-experiences gained thereby.

It hath taught me to recognize my soul,

As never heretofore seemed possible;

And most convincing this self-knowledge proved.

Thomasius did search me through and through:

For unto him was given power to pierce

Through sense-appearance unto spirit-self.

With his developed sight he penetrates [117]

To spirit verity; and thus for me

Those ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’

In new light do appear. To know ourselves

E’en as we are, we must first find that power

Within ourselves, which, as true spirit, doth

Conceal itself from us in our own selves.

Maria:

We must, to find ourselves, that power unfold

Which can pierce through into our very souls:

And truly do these words of wisdom speak—

Unfold thyself and thou shalt find thyself.

Strader:

If we admit now, that Thomasius

Hath through th’ unfolding of his spirit power,

Attained to knowledge of that entity,

That dwells, invisible, in each of us,

Then must we say that on each plane of life

Knowledge doth differ.

Capesius:

Knowledge doth differ. So would I maintain.

Strader:

If matters thus do stand, then is all thought

Nothing: all learning but illusory;

And every moment I must lose myself.…

Oh, do leave me alone.…

Capesius:

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

Maria:

Capesius is nearer far today

To spirit lore, than he himself doth think;

And Strader suffers deeply. What his soul

So hotly craves, his spirit cannot find.

Johannes:

The inner nature of these two did stand

Already then before my spirit’s eye

When first I dared to tread the realm of souls.

As a young man I saw Capesius,

And Strader in the years he hath not reached

By some long span as yet. Capesius

Did show a youthful promise which conceals

Much that this life will not allow to come

To due fruition in the realms of sense.

I was attracted to his inner self:

In his soul’s essence I could first behold

What is the essential kernel of a man;

And how a man’s peculiarities

In earthly life do manifest themselves

As consequences of some former life.

I saw the struggles that he overcame,

Which in his other lives had origin,

And which have shaped his present mode of life.

I could not see his death-discarded selves

With my soul’s vision, yet I did perceive

Within his nature that which could not rise

From his surroundings as they are today.

Thus in the picture I could reproduce,

What dwells within the basis of his soul.

My brush was guided by the powers, which he [119]

Unfolded in his former lives on earth.

If thus I have revealed his inmost self,

My picture will have served the aim, which I

Did purpose for it in my thought: for as

A work of art I do not rate it high.

Maria:

It will confirm its work within that soul

Which it hath showed the path to spirit-realms.

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.’

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, [121]

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 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;

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, [122]

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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 life

Allows its light to shine forth in my soul.

Johannes:

Maria, then thou also art aware

Of what has just revealed itself to me.

Man’s first conviction has just come to me,

And I have gained the certainty of self.

I feel that power to guide me everywhere

Lies in these words: O man, feel thou thyself.

Theodosius (in spirit-garb):

Now canst thou feel all worlds within thyself:

So now feel me as love-power of all worlds.

A nature, that is lighted up by me,

Feels its own being’s power enhanced, whene’er

It gives itself to give another joy.

Thus do I work with true creative joy

To build the worlds. Without me none can live,

And naught without my strength can e’er exist.

Johannes:

So thou dost stand before my spirit’s eye,

Joy-giver of all worlds. My spirit’s strength

Doth feel creative joy, when I behold

Thee as the fruit of self-experience.

Within the temple to my spirit’s eye

Once didst thou show thyself, yet at that time

I knew not whether dream or truth appeared.

But now the scales have fallen from mine eyes,

Which kept the spirit’s light concealed from me:

I know now that thou really dost exist.

I will reveal thy nature in my deeds;

And they shall work salvation through thy power.

To Benedictus too I owe deep thanks: [126]

Through wisdom hath he given me the strength

To turn my spirit’s sight unto thy world.

Theodosius:

Feel me in thy soul-depths, and bear my power

To all the worlds. Thus, serving Love’s behests

Thou shalt experience true blessedness.

Johannes:

I feel thy presence through its warming light;

I feel creative power arise in me.

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.

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: [127]

Well may it be the fiercest of all foes:

But let him come, for he will find me armed.

Thou foe of Good; ’tis surely thine own self!

For near me I can feel thy potent strength.

I know thou dost desire to rend in twain

Whate’er has wrenched itself from thy control.

But I shall strengthen in me that new strength,

Wherein thou canst have neither part nor lot.

Johannes:

O Benedictus, fount of my new life!

It is not possible. It cannot be.

Nay, nay, it cannot be thyself. Thou art

Some vain illusion. Oh, revive in me

Ye good powers of my soul, and straightway crush

This phantom image, that would mock at me!

Benedictus:

Ask of thy soul now, whether it can feel,

What through these years my nearness meant to it.

Through me the fruits of wisdom grew for thee;

And wisdom only now can lead thee on,

And fend from error in the spirit’s realm.

So now experience me within thyself.

Yet wouldst thou go still further, thou must then

Enter that way, which to my temple leads.

And if my wisdom is to guide thee still

To loftier heights, it must flow from that spot

Where with my brethren close conjoined I work. [128]

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.

Johannes:

Oh, he doth leave me. How shall I decide

Whether I have some phantom form dispelled,

Or if reality hath left me now?

Yet do I feel in me my strength renewed.

’Twas no illusion, but the man himself.

I will experience thee within myself,

O Benedictus, for thou gav’st me power,

Which, growing of itself within myself,

Taught me to sever error from the truth.

And yet to vain illusion I succumbed:

1 felt a shudd’ring fear at thine approach;

And could consider thee a fantasy,

When thou didst stand before my very eyes.

Theodosius:

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.

Johannes:

How glorious these words of thine do sound!

I must now live them out within myself.

From all illusion they will set me free,

If they but fill my nature to the full.

Work on then further in my soul’s deep core,

Ye words, sublime and grand! Ye surely must

Proceed from out the temple’s shrine alone,

Since Benedictus’ brother uttered you.

I feel already how ye mount within

Mine inmost being.

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:

O man, know me. O man, feel thou thyself.

From spirit guidance hast thou freed thyself,

And into earth’s free realms thou hast escaped.

Midst earth’s confusion thou didst seek to prove

Thine own existence; and to find thyself

Was thy reward. So now use this reward.

In spirit-ventures keep thyself secure.

In the wide realms on high a being strange

Thou shalt discover, who to human lot

Will fetter thee, and will oppress thee too.

A man, feel thou thyself: O man, know me.

Ahriman:

O man, know thou thyself: O man, feel me.

From spirit darkness hast thou now escaped;

And thou hast found again the light of earth.

So now from my sure ground draw strength and truth.

The solid earth do I make hard and fast:

Yet canst thou also lose that certainty.

Weak hesitation can e’en now destroy

The power of being, and thou canst misuse

The spirit-strength e’en in the heights of light.

Thou canst be rent in twain within thyself.

O man, feel me. O man, know thou thyself.

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?

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. [131]

Through whose fulness seeing,

Mankind doth think in truth;

Through whose fulness striving,

Mankind doth live in Love.

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. [133]

Thou hadst by rigid thinking to destroy

The magic power that comes from spirit-sight.

But yet thou lackedst feeling’s certain touch.

The power of thought did slip away from thee,

When opportunity for conquest came.

My fate is close-entwinéd with your deeds,

Through you are these two seekers after truth

Now lost for evermore from my domain;

For to the brethren I must give their souls.

Capesius:

Thy trusty messenger I could not be.

Thou gav’st me power to picture human life;

And I could well portray whate’er inspired

The souls of men at this time or at that:

But yet it was impossible for me

To gift my words, which painted but the past,

With power to fill and satisfy men’s souls.

Strader:

The weakness which must needs befall me too

Was but a true reflection of thine own.

Knowledge indeed thou couldst give to me:

But not the power to still that yearning voice,

Which strives for truth in every yearning heart.

Deep in mine inmost soul I none the less

Felt other powers continually arise.

Retardus:

See now then what result your weakness brings.

The brethren are approaching with those souls

In whom they will o’erthrow my power. E’en now

Johannes and Maria feel their might.

Benedictus (to Lucifer):

Johannes’ and Maria’s souls have now

No longer room for blind unseeing power:

To spirit-life they have been lifted up.

Lucifer:

Then must I straightway from their souls depart.

The wisdom unto which they have attained,

Doth give them power to see me, and my sway

O’er souls of men doth only last so long

As I remain invisible to them.

Yet doth the power continue which hath been

From the creation of the worlds mine own.

And though I cannot tempt their souls, yet still

My power will cause within their spirit-life

Most beauteous fruits, to ripen and endure.

Benedictus (to Ahriman):

Johannes’ and Maria’s souls have now

Destroyed all error’s darkness in themselves;

And spirit-sight hath been revealed to them.

Ahriman:

I must indeed renounce their spirits then;

For they will turn henceforth unto the light.

Yet one thing hath not yet been ta’en from me;

With sense-appearance to delight their souls.

And though no longer they will deem it truth,

Yet will they see how truth it doth reveal.

Theodosius (to the Other Maria):

Close intertwinéd was thy destiny

With thine exalted sister’s loftier life:

The light of love I could impart to her:

But not the warmth of love, so long as thou

Didst always let thy noblest impulses

From dim sensations only rise in thee,

And didst not strive to see them clear and bold

In the full light of wisdom’s certainty.

The influence of the Temple does not reach

Unto the nature of vague impulses,

E’en though such impulse wills to work for good.

The Other Maria:

I needs must recognize that noble thought

Can only work salvation in the light.

So to the temple I now wend my way.

My own emotion shall in future times

Not rob the light of love of its results.

Theodosius:

Through this, thine insight, thou dost give me power

To make Maria’s soul-light on the earth

Run smooth and evenly upon its path:

For aye aforetime it must lose its might

In souls, such as thine own was heretofore,

Which would not unify their light with love.

Johannes (to the Other Maria):

I see in thee the nature of that soul,

Which also holdeth sway within mine own.

I was unable to find out the way

Which led to thine exalted sister’s soul [136]

So long as in my heart the warmth of love

From love’s light ever held itself apart.

The sacrifice which to the temple’s shrine

Thou bring’st, shall be repeated in my soul.

Therein the warmth of love shall sacrifice

Itself unto love’s wonder-working light.

Maria:

Johannes, in the realm of spirit-life

Thou hast attained to knowledge through myself.

To spirit knowledge thou canst only add

True soul-existence, when thou findest too

Thine own soul, as thou didst find mine before.

Philia:

Then from the whole creation of the worlds

The joy of souls shall be revealed to thee.

Astrid:

From thine whole being then can be outpoured

The light and radiance of the warmth of souls.

Luna:

Then shalt thou dare to live out thine own self,

When such light can illuminate thy soul.

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. [137]

Men of thy nature rob me of the power

To give my light unto men’s souls on earth.

They wish to draw from darksome depths alone,

What they should freely offer unto life.

Felix Balde:

Yet ’twas man’s own illusion in itself,

That brought me light from out the darkest depths:

And let me to the temple find my way.

Romanus:

The fact that thou hast hither found thy way

Gives me the power to give light to the will

Of both Johannes and Maria here.

That it no more may follow forces blind,

But from world-aims henceforth direct itself.

Maria:

Johannes, thou hast seen thine own self now

In spirit in myself. Thou shalt live out

Thine own existence as a spirit, when

The world’s light can behold itself in thee.

Johannes (to Felix Balde):

In thee, good brother Felix, do I see

That soul-power which did hold my will fast bound

In its own spirit. Thou wouldst find the way

Unto the temple: with the strength of will

Within my spirit I would fain point out

The path unto the temple of the soul.

Retardus:

Johannes’ and Maria’s souls e’en now

Escape from my domain: how then shall they [138]

Discover all that springs forth from my might?

So long as they did lack within their souls

The fundaments of learning, they did still

Find joy and pleasure in my gifts, but now

I see myself compelled to let them go.

Felicia:

That man without thine aid, may fire himself

To rational thought, that have I shown to thee

From me a learning streams that dare bear fruit.

Johannes:

This learning shall be wedded to the light,

Which from this temple’s source can fill men’s souls.

Retardus:

Capesius, my son, thou art now lost.

Thou hast withdrawn thyself from my domain

Before the temple’s light can shine for thee.

Benedictus:

He hath begun the path. He feels the light.

And he will win the strength to search and know

In his own soul all that, which up till now

Good Dame Felicia hath produced for him.

Strader:

Then I alone seem lost, for of myself

I cannot cast all doubts from out my heart;

And surely I shall never find again

The way that doth unto the temple lead.

Theodora:

From out thine heart a glow of light spreads forth; [139]

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.

Capesius (reading in a book):

‘By inward gazing on the Beingless,

And dreaming through the shadowy picture realm

Of thought, conformably to self-made laws:—

Thus erring human nature often seeks

To find the meaning and the goal of life:

The soul from its own depths would draw replies

To questions that concern the universe.

Yet such attempts are vain, illusory

E’en at the outset, and they lead at last

To feeble visions which destroy themselves.’

Thus is portrayed in words of import grave

Through Benedictus’ noble spirit-sight,

The inward life of many human souls.

Each phrase goes home destructive to my heart—

Unfolding truly mine own way and life

Until this day, with cruel vividness.

And should a god this very hour appear

Descending on me in a raging storm [148]

And clad in wrath, yet could his threatening might

Not torture me with more appalling fears

Than do the Master’s words, as strong as fate.

Long hath my life been, but its web displays

Nothing but pictures shadowy and dim

Which haunt my dreaming soul and fondly strive

To mirror truths of nature and of mind.

With this dream-fabric hath my thought essayed

To solve the riddle of the universe.

Down many a path my restless soul I turned.

Yet do I clearly see that I myself,

Was not the active master of my soul

When threads of thought along illusion’s path

Spun themselves out to cosmic distances.

So that which I in my content beheld

In pictures, left me empty, led to naught.

Then came across my path Thomasius,

The youthful painter. He indeed strode on,

Upheld by truest energies of soul

To that exalted spiritual way

Which transforms human life, and makes to rise

From hidden gulfs of soul the energy

Which feeds the springs of life within ourselves.

That which awoke from out his inmost soul

Abides in every man. And since from him

I gained this revelation, I do count

As chief amongst the many sins of life

To let the spirit’s treasure grow corrupt.

I know henceforth that I must search and seek

And nevermore allow myself to doubt. [149]

In days gone by my vanity of thought

Could have enticed me to the false belief

That unto knowledge man aspires in vain;

And only failure and despair belong

To those who would lay bare the springs of life.

And were all wisdom to unite in this,

And were I powerless to reject the claim

That human destiny demands of man

That he shall lose his individual self

And sink into the gulf of nothingness,

Yet would I make the venture unafraid.

Such thoughts would be a sacrilege today,

Since I have learned I cannot win repose

Until the spirit treasure in my soul

Hath been unveiléd to the light of day.

The fruits of work of spirit-entities

Have been implanted in the human soul,

And whoso leaves the spirit seed to lie

Unheeded and decay, he brings to nought

The work divine committed unto man.

Thus do I recognize life’s highest task;

Yet when I try to take one single step

Across the threshold that I dare not shun,

I feel my strength desert me, which of yore

Did pride itself on elevated thought,

And sought the goals of life in time and space.

Once did I reckon it an easy thing

To set the brain in action and to grasp

The nature of reality by thought.

But now, when I would search the fount of life [150]

And comprehend it as in truth it is,

My thought appears as some blunt instrument;

I have no power, no matter how I strive,

To form a clear thought-image from the words

Of Benedictus, though his earnest speech,

Should now direct me to the spirit’s path.

‘In silence sound the depths of thine own soul,

And ever let strong courage be thy guide.

Thy former ways of thinking cast away

What time thou dost withdraw into thyself;

For only when thine own light is put out

Will spirit-radiance show itself to thee.’

It seems as though I could not draw my breath

When I attempt to understand these words.

And ere I feel the thoughts that I must think,

Fear and misgiving have beset my soul.

It is borne in on me that everything

Which hitherto was my environment

Is crumbling into ruin, and therewith

I too am crumbling into nothingness.

An hundred times at least have I perused

The words which follow, and each several time

Darkness enfolds me deeper than before.

‘Within thy thinking cosmic thought doth live,

Within thy feeling cosmic forces play,

Within thy will do cosmic beings work;

Abandon thou thyself to cosmic thought,

Experience thyself through cosmic force,

Create thyself anew from cosmic will. [151]

End not at last in cosmic distances

By fantasies of dreamy thought beguiled.

Do thou begin in farthest spirit-realms

And end in the recesses of thy soul.

The plan divine then shalt thou recognize

When thou hast realized thy Self in thee.’

What was this?

Luna:

Abundant power is thine

For lofty spirit-flight;

Its sure foundation rests

Upon the human will.

Its temper hath been tried

By sure and certain hope.

It hath grown strong as steel

By sight of future times.

Thou dost but courage lack

To pour into thy will

Thy confidence in life.

Into the vast Unknown

Dare but to venture forth!

Astrid:

From cosmic distances

And from the sun’s glad light,

From utmost realms of stars

And magic might of worlds, [152]

From heaven’s ethereal blue

And spirit’s lofty power,

Win mightiness of soul;

And send its radiant beams

Deep down within thine heart;

That knowledge glowing warm

May thus be born in thee.

The Other Philia:

They are deceiving thee

This evil sisterhood;

They seek but to ensnare

By trickery and guile.

The gifts so seeming fair

Which they have offered thee

Will vanish into air

When thou wouldst hold them fast

With all thy human strength.

They lead thee on to worlds

Inhabited by gods,

Where thou wilt be destroyed

If, once within their realm,

Thou strivest to o’ercome

By human strength alone.

Capesius:

It was quite plain that here some beings spake—

And yet it is most sure that no one else—

Beside myself—is present in this place.

So have I but held converse with myself

And yet that too seems quite impossible— [153]

For ne’er could I imagine such discourse

As here I listened to.…

As here I listened to.... Am I still he

I was before?

I was before? Oh! I am—I am not.

The Spirit-Voice of Conscience:

Thy thoughts do now descend

To depths of human life

And what as soul doth compass thee around

And what as spirit is enchained in thee,

Is lost in cosmic depth,

From whose fulness quaffing

Mankind doth live in thought;

From whose fulness living

Mankind illusion weaves.

Capesius:

Enough.… Enough.… Where is Capesius?

You I implore … ye forces all unknown.…

Where is Capesius? Where is … myself?

Benedictus:

I learned that thou didst wish to speak with me,

And so I came to seek thee in thy home.

Capesius:

Right good it is of thee to grant my wish.

Yet it had scarce been possible that thou

Shouldst find me in worse case than now I am.

That I am not this moment on the ground

Prostrate before thy feet, after such pain

As even now hath racked my soul, I owe

To thy kind glance alone which sought mine own,

So soon as thou didst with thy gentle touch

Arouse me from the horrors of my dream.

Benedictus:

I am aware that I have found thee now

Fighting a battle for thy very life.

Since I have known full well this long time past

That thus it was appointed us to meet.

Prepare to change the sense of many words

If thou wouldst understand my speech aright

And do not marvel that thy present pain

Bears in my language quite another name—

I call thy state good fortune.

Capesius:

I call thy state good fortune. Then indeed

Thou dost but heap the measure of the woe

Which casts me into gloom’s abysmal depths.

Just now I felt as if my real self

Had flown afar to cosmic distances,

And unfamiliar beings through its sheaths

Were speaking here. But this I took to be

Hallucination, spirit mockery,

And mourned that thus my soul could be deceived: [155]

This thought alone kept me from breaking down.

Take not away my right thus to believe,

The only prop I lean on; tell me not

My fevered dreaming was good fortune; else

I shall be lost indeed.

Benedictus:

I shall be lost indeed. A man can lose

Nought else but that which keeps him separate

From cosmic being. When he seems to lose

That which in dreamy fantasies of thought

He misapplied to labours purposeless,

Then let him seek for what has gone from him.

For he will surely find it, and withal

The proper use to which it should be put

In human life. Mere words of comfort now

Were nothing more than clever play on words.

Capesius:

Nay—lore that may by simple human wit

Be comprehended thou dost not impart.

Bitter experience has shown me this.

Like deeds which lead one on to lofty heights

And also cast one to abysmal depths,

Thy counsels pour a stream of fiery life

And also deathly chill into men’s souls.

They work at once e’en as the nod of fate

And also as a storm of living love.

Much had I sought and thought in earlier days

Before I met thee; yet the spirit’s powers,

Creative and destructive, I have learned

Only since I have followed in thy steps. [156]

The turmoil and confusion of my soul,

Caused by thy words, was evident when thou

Didst come within my chamber. Oft I felt

Much pain whilst reading in thy book of life,

Until today my cup of woe was full.

And so my agony of soul o’erflowed,

Spilled by thy fateful words. Their meaning swept

O’er all my soul unrecognized, and yet

Like some elixir they revived my heart.

In such wise wrought they in the magic worlds

That all my clarity of sense was lost.

Then ghostly phantoms made a mock of me,

And words of import dark I seemed to hear

Issue from my distraught tormented soul.

I know that all the secrets thou dost guard

For human souls may not be written down,

But that the answer to men’s doubts may be

Revealed to each according to his need.

So grant me that of which I stand in need;

For verily I must indeed be told

What robbed me of my senses and my wits

And compassed me with magic’s airy spells.

Benedictus:

Another meaning hides within my words

Than that of the ideas which they convey;

They guide the natural forces of the soul

To spirit-verities; their inward sense

Cannot be understood until the day

On which they waken vision in the soul

That yields itself to their compelling power.

They are not fruitage of mine own research; [157]

But spirits have entrusted them to me,

Spirits well skilled to read the signs in which

The Karma of the world doth stand revealed.

The special virtue of these words is this,

Unto the source of knowledge they can guide.

Yet none the less it must be each man’s task,

Who understands them in their truest sense,

To drink the spirit-waters from that source.

Nor are my words designed to hinder thee

From being swept away to worlds that seem

To thee fantastic. Thou hast seen a realm

Which must remain illusion just as long

As thou dost lose thyself on entering it.

But wisdom’s outer portal will be found

Unsealed to thine advancing soul so soon

As thou dost near it with self-consciousness.

Capesius:

And how can I maintain self-consciousness?

Benedictus:

The answer to this riddle thou shalt find

When, with awakened inner eye, thou dost

Perceive before thee many wondrous things,

Which shortly will be found to cross thy path.

Know that a test hath been ordained for thee

By lords of fate and by the spirit-powers.

Capesius:

Although their meaning is not clear to me

I feel his words at work within myself. [158]

He hath appointed me a goal; and I

Am ready to obey. He doth not ask

For stress of thought; it seems that he desires

I should press forward with exploring feet

To find the spirit-verities myself.

I cannot tell how he was sent to me;

And yet his actions have compelled my trust;

He hath restored me to myself once more.

So though at present I may not divine

The nature of the spell that shook me so,

I will not shrink from facing these events

Which his prophetic vision hath foretold.

Maria:

Great conflicts in my soul bid me invoke

Wise counsel from my master in this hour.

Gloomy forebodings rise within my heart.

And I am powerless to withstand the thoughts

That overwhelm me ever and again.

They pierce me to my being’s inmost core;

They seek to lay upon me a command

Which to obey doth seem like sacrilege.

Deceitful powers must be obsessing me;

Oh, I implore thee—lend me aid … that I

May exorcise them.

Benedictus:

May exorcise them. Never shalt thou lack

What thou dost need of me at any time.

Maria:

I know how closely to my soul are knit

Johannes’ life and aims. A stony road [160]

Of fate brought us together; and God’s will

Hath hallowed in high spirit-realms our bond.

All this stands out before me e’en as clear

As only truth itself can be. And yet—

Horror o’erpowers me that these lips of mine

Must utterance give to sacrilegious words—

And yet—deep in my soul I hear a voice

Which tells me plainly and repeatedly

Despite my utmost will to fight it down:

‘Thou must give up Johannes, let him go.

No longer mayst thou keep him at thy side

If thou wouldst not work evil to his soul.

Alone he must proceed along the road

On which he travels to his longed for goal.’

I know that if thou dost but speak the word

This lying dream will cease to haunt my soul.

Benedictus:

Maria, noble grief leads thee astray

To see the truth yet call it counterfeit.

Maria:

What I have seen—is truth.… It cannot be!

Between my master’s utterance and mine ear

Delusion steals. O speak to me again.

Benedictus:

What I have spoken, thou hast heard aright:

Thy love is noble, and Johannes stands

Close-knit to thee. But love must not forget

That she is wisdom’s sister. Long indeed

For his salvation hath Johannes been

With thee united. Now his soul demands, [161]

For its own progress, freedom to pursue

Its aims unhindered. Fate doth not decree

That ye shall be no longer outward friends;

But this it doth demand with strict decree

Johannes’ freedom in the spirit-realm.

Maria:

Still do I hear delusion: so let me

Alone continue speaking, for I know

That thou must understand me without fail.

For sure it is no lying shape will dare

To change the words unto thine ear addressed.

My host of doubts were easily dispersed

If earth-life’s tortuous course alone it were

That knits Johannes’ soul unto mine own.

But to our bond was lofty sanction given

Which knits soul unto soul eternally.

And spirit-powers did speak with blessings meet

The word that bans all doubt for evermore:

‘He hath won truth within th’ eternal realms

Because in worlds of sense his inmost self

Already was united with thine own.’

What can this revelation mean to me

If now its very opposite is true?

Benedictus:

Thou hast to learn that even one to whom

There hath been much revealed, may yet be found

Lacking perfection still in divers ways.

Tangled the paths that lead to higher truth: …

And only those may hope to reach the goal

Who walk in patience through their labyrinths. [162]

Thou didst but see one part of what is real

In that great realm of everlasting light,

When with thine inner vision thou didst gaze

Upon a picture of the spirit-land.

Not yet hast thou seen full reality.

Johannes’ soul is knit unto thine own

By earthly ties of such complexity

That it may be allotted unto each

To find his way into the spirit-realm

Through forces borrowed from the other one.

But nothing hitherto hath clearly shown

That thou hast conquered each and every test.

To see a picture hath been granted thee

Of what the future holds for thee in store

When thou canst pass unscathed the full ordeal.

That thou hast seen the ultimate reward

Of unremitting effort is no sign

That thou hast reached the end of all thy strife.

Thou hast beheld a picture, which thy will

Alone can turn unto reality.

Maria:

Although thy words just spoken fall on me

Like bitter pain that follows hours of bliss,

There is at least one lesson I have learned,

Which is to bow my head to wisdom’s light

When it doth prove itself through inward force.

Already something is becoming clear

Which up till now lay hidden in my heart.

But when in highest bliss delusion’s snare

Doth wear the mask of truth to human minds,

Darkness of soul is difficult to ban. [163]

I need still more than that which thou hast given

To plumb the depth of meaning in thy words.

Thou once didst lead myself to those soul-depths

Wherein a light was then vouchsafed to me

By which I could behold the lives I spent

In previous incarnations long ago.

Thus was it granted me to learn the way

In which my soul was linked unto my friend’s.

My act of bringing, in those days of old,

Johannes’ soul unto the spirit-fount

I felt and recognized to be the seed

Which grew and bore such cherished friendship’s fruit,

As was found ripe for all eternity.

Benedictus:

Thou wast accounted worthy to retrace

Thy path on earth in days long since gone by.

But thou must not forget to look and see

If thou canst be assured with certainty

That of thine actions none remain concealed

When backward thou didst turn thy spirit’s eye.

Maria (after a pause betokening deep reflection):

How could I be so blinded, so misled?

The rapture which I felt on looking back

Over a period of bygone times

Deluded me to vain forgetfulness

Of manifold shortcomings. Not till now

Did I foresee that I must turn my gaze

Into the darkness ere I comprehend

The road that leads back from this present life [164]

To olden days when my friend’s soul sought mine.

To thee, my master, will I make my vow

Henceforth to bridle my soul’s arrogance …!

Now for the first time do I realize

How pride of knowledge leads the soul astray;

So that, instead of its imbibing strength

From freely offered stores of spirit-wealth,

It misapplies the gift in wanton use

And only holds the mirror up to self.

I know at last from my heart’s warning call,

To which thy words lend added power, how far

I am today e’en from the nearest goal.

No more will I be overswift to read

A meaning into words from spirit-lands.

I will esteem them power wherewith my soul

May shape its course—, not as some message sent

To free me from the need of finding out

The goal of action in my daily life.

Had I paid earlier heed unto this truth

And gone my way in due humility;

I had not failed to see that only then

When he decides to tread a path not traced

By me beforehand, can my friend unfold

To fullest bloom his richly-gifted soul.

And now that this is clear I shall not fail

In finding strength sufficient to fulfil

What love and duty may require of me.

Yet do I feel assured this very hour

More clearly than I ever was before

That some grave testing of my soul draws nigh.

For mostly, when men tear from out their hearts

That of themselves which in another lives, [165]

Love hath been changed into its opposite.

Themselves they change the ties that coupled them,

Yet passion’s impulse gives to them the power.

Whilst I must of mine own free will uproot

The workings of my soul’s life, which I saw

Accomplishing themselves in my friend’s acts;

And still unchanging must my love abide.

Benedictus:

If thou wouldst steer thy course direct, thou must

Become aware of what thou most didst prize

In this thy love. For once thou knowst the force

That leads thee all unknown within thy soul,

Thou wilt find power to do what duty bids.

Maria:

By saying this thou giv’st e’en now that aid

Of which my soul so sorely stands in need.

I must investigate mine inmost self

With earnest questioning: and so I ask,

What potent cause impels me in my love?

I see my own soul’s life and strength at work

In my friend’s nature and activities.

So that which I desire to satisfy

Is nothing but the hunger of myself,

Which I, deluded, call unselfishness.

Thus it hath been concealed from me till now

That in my friend I mirror but myself.

It was the dragon Selfishness who veiled

The truth from me in wrappings of deceit.

And selfishness can take an hundred forms:—

I see it clearly now. And when one thinks [166]

The enemy subdued, behold him rise

Out of defeat and stronger than before.

Moreover ’tis a foe with added skill

To hide the truth with cloak of counterfeit.

Maria:

Ye sisters, whom I find in Being’s depths

Whene’er my soul expands and guides herself

To cosmic distances, release for me

From out the ether’s heights the powers of sight

And lead them hence to earthly paths, that I

May know myself as I exist in Time,

And may be able to direct my course

From Life’s old ways unto new spheres of Will.

Philia:

From my heart’s depths will I myself imbue

With soul’s aspiring light; I will breathe deep

From spirit-forces living powers of Will;

That thou, beloved sister, mayest seek

And find the light in bygone spheres of life.

Astrid:

With selfhood, conscious of itself, will I

Weave in the self-surrendering Will of love;

I will set free from fetters of desire

The budding powers of Will, and will transform

Thy crippled wish to spirit-certainty; [167]

That thou, beloved sister, mayest learn

To find thyself in distant paths of life.

Luna:

I will call self-denying powers of heart;

And will make firm enduring soul-repose;

Then shall they wed, and raise up spirit-light

In all its power from out the depths of soul.

Then shall they interpenetrate and force

Earth’s bounds to heed the listening spirit-ear,

Compel earth’s distances to answer.

That thou, beloved sister, mayest find

Life’s varied traces in Time’s vast expanse.

Maria (after a pause):

If I can only tear myself away

From my bewildered consciousness of self

And give myself to you: that thus ye may

Reflect my very soul from cosmic space;

Then from this sphere of life I gain release,

And find myself in other states of being.

In you, my sisters, I see spirit-forms

In whom dwell cosmic souls. Ye have the power

To bring seed-forces from eternal realms

To fruitage in humanity itself.

Through my soul’s gates oft have I found the way

Into your kingdom, and have there beheld

The primal shaping of this earthly globe

With inner vision. Now your help I crave

Since I am bidden to retrace the way

That stretches back far from my present life [168]

To long past ages of humanity.

Release my soul from consciousness of self

In time-enclosed existence, and reveal

The duties laid on me by former lives.

A Spirit-voice,—the spiritual conscience:

Her thoughts are seeking now

For clues in Time’s vast space.

What as debt she still doth owe,

What as duty is imposed,

Arise from out her inmost depths of soul,

From whose deepness dreaming

Mankind doth guide his life,

In whose deepness straying

Mankind himself doth lose.

Johannes:

Maria, when she saw my picture last,

Stood silent. Heretofore she ever gave

Hints to assist the progress of my work

From her rich store of wisdom manifold.

Little as I can trust myself to judge

Whether my art indeed accomplishes

The task our spirit-current hath imposed,

Yet is my confidence in her complete.

And ever through my spirit ring her words

Which lent me strength and brought me happiness

When I took courage and began this work.

‘In such a way as this,’ she said, ‘thou canst

Attempt this enterprise, and so reveal

Thy spirit’s visions unto earthly eyes.

Thou wilt not fail to recognize how forms,

Fashioned like thoughts, shape matter to their will;

Nor yet how colour, to desire akin,

Doth fill thy vital energy with warmth.

In such wise canst thou even represent [170]

On canvas through thy skill the higher realms.’

I feel the power that dwells within these words

And diffidently yield to that belief

That I am drawing nearer to the goal

Which Benedictus hath appointed me.

Full oft I sat discouraged at my work;

It seemed at one time so presumptuous,

And at another so impossible

To represent in colour and in form

The visions that are granted to my soul.

How can the ceaseless web of spirit-life,

Which is revealed to inner sight alone

And is so far withdrawn from outward sense,

Be manifest in matter which is drawn,

As drawn it must be, from the realm of sense?

This question have I asked myself full oft.

Yet when I banish personality,

And follow spirit-teaching faithfully,

And feel myself caught up in blessedness

Unto creative forces of the worlds,

At once belief awakens in an art

As true and mystic as our spirit-quest.

I learned to live with light, and recognize

In colour’s power the action of that light,

As faithful students of true mystic lore

See in realms reft of colour and of form

The spirit’s deeds and soul’s reality.

Relying on this spirit-light, I won

This power to feel in flowing sea of light,

And live within the stream of glowing tints;

And sense those spirit-forces which maintain

Their might in non-material webs of light, [171]

And radiant colours filled with spirit-life.

And when my courage faileth me, once more

Of thee, my friend most noble, do I think.

At thy soul’s fire my love of work is warmed;

Thy spirit-light awakes my faith anew.

Oh, thou art here.… Impatiently I craved

Thy coming, yet I marked not thine approach!

Maria:

I must rejoice to find my friend so wrapt

In work as to forget his friend herself.

Johannes:

Nay, speak not thus, since thou dost know full well

That I cannot create one single thought

Which hath not first been hallowed by thine aid.

No work of mine owes not its life to thee.

Through thy love’s fire have I been purified;

Through thee my art hath learned to represent

The beauty of the truths revealed to thee,

Which warm my heart, illuminate my sense,

And clothe in radiant light the spirit-world.

The current of my work must take its rise

From thy soul’s spring and flow thence into mine,

Ere I can feel the wings that lift me up

To lofty heights of spirit, far from earth.

I love the life that quickens in thy soul,

And, loving it, can give it form and hue.

Love only can beget artistic power

And make an artist’s work bear fruit and live. [172]

If I, as artist, am to carry back

Pictures of spirit to the world of sense,

Then cosmic spirit must speak forth through me,

My personality be but its tool.

I must first burst the bonds of selfishness

Ere I can know that I shall not mistake

For spirit-worlds my own vain fantasies.

Maria:

And if thou hadst to seek through thine own sight

And not through mine the true source of thy work,

It might well be that, coming from one soul

Thy dream of beauty might be unified.

Johannes:

I should be spinning webs of idle thought

In speculating which I should prefer:

Whether to incarnate thy spirit-sight,

Or in myself to seek my vision’s source.—

I am convinced I could not find it thus.

I can withdraw to deep retreats of soul

And find delight in wide-flung spirit-worlds:

I can be lost to all the world of sense

And follow colour-wonders with mine eye

And watch creative energies at work,

If I am left with mine own soul alone.

Whate’er may thus befall me I am not

Thereby impelled to my creative art.

But if I follow thee to cosmic heights,

And in warm rapture live again what thou

Already hast in spirit there beheld,

Then in my spirit-sight I feel a fire [173]

Which burns on in me also, and whose flames

Kindle the powers that drive me to my work.

If my desire were simply to relate

That which I can find out in higher worlds,

Then with my soul I well might upward soar

To spheres where spirit unto spirit speaks.

But as an artist I must find that fire

Which lights the picture and inflames the heart.

And my soul cannot to my picture give

The magic warmth that streams through human hearts,

Till it can quench its thirst with spirit-truths

Revealed from out the depths of thine own heart.

How primal force by longing is condensed,

How powers creative blaze with spirit-light,

And, sensing even then their need of man,

Display themselves as gods in earliest times,

All this, my friend, thy soul in noble speech

Hath often led me on to learn unseen.

In hues ethereal of the spirit-world

I sought to densify what hid from sight;

And felt how colours longed to see themselves

Mirrored as spirit in the souls of men.

So doth my friend’s soul speak as if ’twere mine

Out of my pictures to the human heart.

Maria:

Bethink, Johannes, how the One Soul must—

A personality apart from all—

Evolve from out the womb of time.

Love serves to knit together separate souls [174]

Not kill their individuality.

The moment is upon us, when we twain

Must test our souls, and find the spirit-path

That each must follow for its separate good.

Johannes:

What meant my friend? Her words did sound so strange.

Maria, I must follow thee forthwith.

Luna:

Thou canst not find thyself

Portrayed in other souls.

The power of thine own self

Must root in cosmic soil,

If from the spirit-heights

Thou wouldst indeed transplant

Their beauty to earth’s depths.

Be bold to be thyself,

That thou, strong souled, mayst give

Thyself to cosmic powers—a willing sacrifice.

Astrid:

In all thy ways on earth

Thou must not lose thyself;

Mankind doth not attain

To sun-kissed distances

If he would rob himself of personality.

So then prepare thyself,

Press on through earthly love [175]

To utmost depths of heart

Which ripen cosmic love.

The Other Philia:

O heed the sisters not;

They lead thee far astray

To cosmic distances,

And rob thee of earth’s touch.

They do not understand

That earthly love bears trace

Of cosmic love itself.

In cold their natures dwell

And warmth flies from their powers.

They fain would lure mankind

From out his own soul depths

To cold and lofty worlds.

Capesius (to Strader who is entering):

A hearty welcome to the friend whose tongue

With many a disputatious argument

Stoutly withstood me! ’Tis long time since

Thou crossed this threshold. Yet in earlier days

Thou wast my constant welcome visitor.

Strader:

Alas I have not had the time to spare;

My life hath undergone a curious change.

No longer do I plague my weary brain

With hopeless problems. Now I dedicate

The knowledge I have won to honest work,

Such as may serve some useful end in life.

Capesius:

Thou meanest that thou hast given up thy quest?

Strader:

Say rather, that it hath abandoned me.

Capesius:

And what may be thy present labours’ goal?

Strader:

There are no goals in life ordained for man

Which he may see and clearly understand.

It is a mighty engine by whose wheels

We are caught up and wearied, and cast out

Into the darkness when our strength is spent.

Capesius:

I knew thee in the days when eagerly

And undismayed thou didst set out to solve

The riddle of existence. I have learned

How thou didst see thy treasured knowledge sink

Into the bottomless abyss, and how

Thy soul, profoundly shaken, had to drain

The bitter cup of disappointed dreams.

But never for one moment did I think

That thou couldst drive the impulse from thy heart

Which had become so fully master there.

Strader:

Thou hast but to recall a certain day

On which a seeress by her truthful speech

Made clear to me the error of my ways.

I had no choice but to acknowledge then

That thought, however hard it toil and strive,

Can never reach the fountain-head of life.

For thought cannot do otherwise than err

If it be so that highest wisdom’s light

Can be revealed to that dark power of soul

Of which that woman showed herself possessed.

The rules of science cannot ever lead

To such a revelation; that is plain.

Had this been all, and had I only met

This one defeat whilst following my quest,

I do believe I could have brought myself

To start afresh by striving to unite

My methods with those other different ones.

But when it further was made evident

That some peculiar spirit-faculty,

A mere hallucination as I deemed,

Could transform trance into creative power,

Hope disappeared, and left me in despair.

Dost thou recall the painter, that young man

We both encountered whilst he was engrossed

Following the dubious course of spirit-ways?

After such buffetings from fate I lived

For many weeks benumbed, to madness nigh.

And when by nature’s aid I was at last

Restored to sense, I made a firm resolve

To meddle with such seeking never more.

Long, long it was before I had regained

My body’s health; and ’twas a joyless time.

I made myself proficient in those things

That lead to business and to normal life.

So now I am a factory manager,

Where screws are made. This is the work I thank

For many hours in which I can forget

My bitter sufferings in a futile quest.

Capesius:

I must confess I scarce can recognize

My friend of former days; so different

Is now the guise in which he shows himself. [179]

Beside those hours of which thou spak’st just now

Were there not others full of storm and stress,

In which the ancient conflicts were renewed

That urged thee forth from this benumbing life?

Strader:

I am not spared those hours in mine own soul

When impotence ’gainst impotence doth strive.

And fate hath not so willed it in my case

That rosy beams of hope should force their way

Into my heart, and leave assurance there

That this my present life is not an utter loss.

Renunciation is henceforth my goal.

Yet may the force which such a task requires

Endow me later on with faculty

To follow up my quest in other ways.

If this terrestrial life repeats itself.

Capesius:

Thou spak’st,—if I indeed have heard aright,—

Of repetition of thy life on earth.

Then hast thou really won this fateful truth,

Found it on spirit-journeys, which today

Thou none the less condemnst as dubious?

Strader:

This is the way once travelled by thyself

To that conviction which hath given me strength

To make a new beginning of my life.

I sought upon my sick-bed once for all

In comprehensive survey to embrace [180]

The field of knowledge traversed by myself.

And this I did, ere seeking other aims.

I must have asked myself an hundred times

What we can learn from nature, and infer

From what we know at present of her laws.

I could not find a loophole for escape.

The repetition of our earthly life

Cannot and must not be denied by thought

That doth not wish to tear itself away

From all research hath found for ages past.

Capesius:

Could I have had one such experience

Then should I have been spared much bitter pain.

I sought through many a weary wakeful night

For liberating thoughts to set me free.

Strader:

And yet it was this spirit lightning-flash

Which robbed me of my last remaining powers.

The strongest impulse of my soul hath been

Ever to seek for evidence in life

Of what my thought hath forced on me as truth.

So it befell, as if by chance, that I

E’en in those days of misery should prove,

And by my own life testify the truth,

That cruel truth with all that it involves:

Which is, that all our sorrows and our joys

Are but results of what we really are.

Aye! this is often very hard to bear.

Capesius:

Incredible seems such experience. [181]

What can there be to overshadow truth,

For which we search unwearying, and which

Unto our spirit firm assurance gives.

Strader:

For thee it may be so, but not for me.

Thou art acquainted with my curious life.

By chance it seemed my parents’ plans were crossed.

Their purpose was to make a monk of me;

And naught so hurt them, they have often said,

In all their life as my apostasy.

I bore all this, yea and much more besides;

Just as one bears the other things in life

So long as birth and death appear the bounds

Appointed for our earthly pilgrimage.

So too my later life and all the hopes

That came to naught, to me a picture seemed

That only by itself could be explained.

Would that the day had never dawned, on which

I altered those convictions that I held,

For—bear in mind—I have not yet confessed

The total burden laid on me by fate.

No child was I of those who would have made

A monk of me, but an adopted son

Chosen by them when but a few days old.

My own real parents I have never known,

But was a stranger in my very home.

Nor less estranged have I remained from all

That happened round me in my later life.

And now my thought compels me to look back

Unto those days of long ago, and see

How from myself I stole the world away. [182]

For thought is linked with thought to make a chain:

A man to whom it hath been thus ordained

To be a stranger in the world, before

His consciousness had ever dawned in him,

This man hath willed this fate upon himself

Ere he could will as consequence of thought.

And since I stay that which I was at first

I know without the shadow of a doubt

That all unknowing I am in the power

Of forces that control my destiny

And that will not reveal themselves to me.

Do I need more to give me cruel proof

How many veils enshroud mine inmost self?

Without false thirst for knowledge, judge this now;

Hath my new truth revealed the light to me?

It hath, at any rate, brought certainty

That I in mine uncertainty must stay.

Thus it portrays to me my destiny

And like in its own way, is my reply,

Half anguish and half bitter mockery.

A fearful sense of horror on me grew.

Tortured by scorn I must confront my life;

And scoffing at the mockery of fate

I yielded to the darkness. Yet there stayed

One single thought which I could realize:

Do with me what thou wilt, thou life-machine;

I am not curious how thy cog-wheels work!

Capesius:

The man whom I have recognized in thee

In such condition cannot long remain,

Bereft of Knowledge, even if he would. [183]

Already I can see the days approach

When we shall both be other than we are.

Capesius (arriving, approaches her):

I know an old friend will not ask in vain

For leave to stay and rest awhile with thee;

Since now, e’en more than any former time,

He needs what in thine house so oft he found.

Felicia:

When thou wast still far off thy wearied step

Told me the tale which now thine eyes repeat;

That sorrow dwelleth in thy soul today.

Capesius (who has seated himself):

Even aforetime ’twas not granted me

To bring much merriment into thy home;

But special patience must I crave today

When, heavy-hearted and of peace bereft,

I force my way unto the home of peace.

Felicia:

We were right glad to see thee in the days

When scarce another man came near this house. [185]

And thou art still our friend, despite events

That came between us, e’en though many now

Are glad to seek us in this lonely glade.

Capesius:

The tale is true then which hath reached mine ears,

That thy dear Felix, so reserved of yore,

Is nowadays a man much visited?

Felicia:

’Tis so; good Felix used to shut us off

From everyone—; but now the people throng

To question him, and he must answer them.

His duty bids him lead this novel life.

In former days he cared not to impart,

Save to his inner self, the secret lore

Concerning spirit-deeds and nature’s powers

By rock and forest unto him revealed.

Nor did men seem to value it before.

How great a change hath now come o’er the times!

For many men now lend a willing ear

To what they counted folly in the past,

Greedy for wisdom, Felix can reveal.

And when my dear good husband has to talk

Hour upon hour on end, as oft he doth,

I long for those old days of which I spake.

How oft would Felix earnestly declare

That in the quiet heart enshrined, the soul

Must learn to treasure up the spirit-gifts

From worlds divine in mercy sent to her.

He held it treachery to that high speech [186]

Of spirit, to reveal it to an ear

That was but open to the world of sense.

Felix:

Felicia cannot reconcile herself

To this much altered fashion of our life.

As she regrets the loneliness of old,

So she deplores the many days that pass

In which we have but few hours for ourselves.

Capesius:

What made thee welcome strangers to a house

That shut them out so sternly heretofore?

Felix:

The spirit-voice which speaks within my heart

Bade me of yore be silent; I obeyed.

Now that it bids me speak I show myself

Equally faithful unto its command.

Our human nature undergoes a change

As earth’s existence gradually evolves.

Now are we very near an epoch’s close.

And spirit-knowledge therefore must in part

Be now revealéd unto every man

Who chooseth to receive it to himself.

I know how little what I have to tell

Is in agreement with man’s current thought;

The spirit-life, they say, must be made known,

In strict and logical thought sequences,

And men deny all logic to my words.

True science on a firm foundation based,

Cannot, they say, regard me otherwise,

Than as a visionary soul who seeks [187]

A solitary road to wisdom’s seat,

And knows no more of science than of art.

Yet not a few declare it worth their while

The tangle of my language to explore

Because therein from time to time is found

Something of worth, to reason not opposed.

I am a man into whose heart must flow,

Untouched by art, each vision he may see.

Nought know I of a knowledge lacking words.

When I retreat within mine inmost heart

And also when I list to nature’s voice

Then such a knowledge wakes to life in me

As hath no need to seek for any words;

Speech is to it as intimately linked

As is his body’s sheath to man on earth;

And knowledge such as this, which in this wise

Reveals itself to us from spirit-worlds,

Can be of service even unto those

Who understand it not. And so it is

That every man is free to come to me

Who will attend to what I have to say.

Many are led by curiosity

And other trivial reasons to my door.

I know that this is so, but also know

That though the souls of just such men as these

Are not this moment living for the light,

Yet in them have been planted seeds of good

Which will not fail to ripen in due time.

Capesius:

Let me, I pray thee, freely speak my mind.

I have admired thee now these many years; [188]

Yet up till now I have not grasped the sense

Which underlies thy strange mysterious words.

Felix:

It surely will unfold itself to thee;

For with a lofty spirit dost thou strive

And noble heart, and so the time must come

When thou thyself shalt hear the voice of truth.

Thou dost not mark how full of rich content

Man, as the image of the cosmos, is.

His head doth mirror heaven’s very self,

The spirits of the spheres work through his limbs,

And in his breast earth-beings hold their sway.

To all of these opposed, in all their might

Appear the demons, natives of the Moon,

Whose lot it is to cross those beings’ aims.

The human being who before us stands,

The soul through which we learn to feel desire,

The spirit who illuminates our path:

All these, full many gods have worked to mould

Throughout the ages of eternity;

And this their purpose was: to join in one,

Forces proceeding out of all the worlds

Which should, in combination, make mankind.

Capesius:

Thy words come near to causing me alarm,

For they regard mankind as nothing else

Than product of divine activities.

Felix:

And so a man who sets himself to learn

True spirit science must be meek indeed. [189]

And he who, arrogant and vain, desires

To gain nought else than knowledge of himself;

For him the gates of wisdom open not.

Capesius:

Once more, no doubt, will Dame Felicia

Come to mine aid, as she so oft hath done,

And make a picture for my seeking soul,

Which, being warmed thereat, may rightly grasp

The real true meaning in thy words contained.

Felicia:

Dear Felix oft hath told me in the past

The very words which now he spake to thee.

They freed a vision in mine heart, which I

Did promise, then and there, I must relate

Some day to thee.

Capesius:

Some day to thee. Oh do so, dearest dame;

I sorely crave refreshment, such as thou,

Out of thy picture-storehouse canst provide.

Felicia:

So be it then. There once did live a boy,

The only child of needy forest-folk,

Who grew up in the woodland solitudes;

Few souls he knew beside his parents twain.

His build was slender, and his skin well-nigh

Transparent; marvels of the spirit hid

Deep in his eye; long could one gaze therein.

And though few human beings ever came

Into the circle of his daily life, [190]

The lad was well befriended none the less.

When golden sunshine bathed the neighbouring hills,

With thoughtful eyes he drew the spirit-gold

Into his soul, until his heart became

Kin to the morning glory of the sun.

But when the morning sunshine could not break

Through dense dark banks of cloud, and heaviness

Lay on the hills around, his eye grew sad,

And sorrow took possession of his heart.

Thus his attention only centred on

The spirit-fabric of his narrow world,

A world that seemed as much a part of him

As did his limbs and body. Woodlands all

And trees and flowers he felt to be his friends;

From crown and calyx and from tops of trees,

The spirit beings spake full oft to him,

And all their whisperings were lucid speech.

Marvels and wonders of the hidden worlds

Disclosed themselves unto the boy when he

Held converse in his soul with many things

By men deemed lifeless. Evening often fell,

And still the boy would be away from home,

And cause his loving parents much distress.

At such times he was at a place near by

In which a spring rose gushing from the rocks,

To fall in misty spray upon the stones.

When silver moonbeams would reflect themselves,

A miracle of colour and of light,

Full in the rush of hasting waterdrops,

The boy could spend beside the rock-born spring

Hour after hour, till spirit-shapes appeared

Before the vision of the youthful seer [191]

Where moonbeams shivered on the falling drops.

They grew to be three forms in woman’s shape,

Who spoke to him about those things in which

His yearning soul made known its interest.

And when upon a gentle summer night

The lad was once more sitting by the spring,

A myriad particles one woman took

From out the coloured web of waterdrops

And to the second woman handed them.

She fashioned from the watery particles

A gleaming chalice with a silver sheen

And handed it in turn unto the third.

She filled the vessel with the silver rays

Of moonlight and then gave it to the boy,

Who had beheld all this with inner sight.

During the night which followed this event

He dreamed a dream in which he saw himself

Robbed of this chalice by some dragon wild.

After this night had passed, the boy beheld

But three times more the marvel of the stream.

Then the three women stayed away from him

Although he sat and mused beside the spring

That gushed beneath the moonlight from the rock.

And when three times three hundred sixty weeks

Had passed, the boy had long become a man,

And left home, parents, and his woodland nook

To live in some strange city. There one eve

He sat and thought, tired with the day’s hard toil,

Musing on what life held in store for him,

When suddenly he felt himself caught up

And set again beside that rock-bound spring;

The women three, he there beheld once more, [192]

And this time clearly he could hear them speak.

These were the words the first one spake to him:

‘Think of me always whensoe’er thou art

O’ercome by loneliness, for I am she

Who lures the inner vision of mankind

To starry realms and heavenly distances.

And whosoever wills to feel my sway

To him I give a draught of life and hope

Out of the magic goblet which I hold.’

The second also spake these words to him:

‘Forget me not at times when thou art nigh

To losing courage on life’s battlefield.

I lead men’s yearning hearts to depths of soul

And also up to lofty spirit-heights.

And whosoever seeks his powers from me,

For him I forge unwavering faith in life

Shaped by the magic hammer which I wield.’

The third one gave her message in these words:

‘Lift up thy spirit’s eye to gaze on me

When by life’s riddles thou art overwhelmed.

’Tis I who spin the threads of thought that lead

Through labyrinths of life and depths of soul.

And whosoever puts his trust in me

For him I weave the rays of living love

Upon this magic loom at which I sit.’

Thus it befell the man, and in the night

That followed on his vision he did dream,

How that a dragon wild in circles crept

Round him, but was not able to draw near.

He was protected from that dragon’s claws

By those same beings whom he saw of old

Seated beside the spring among the rocks, [193]

Who had gone with him, when he left his home,

To guard him in his strange environment.

Capesius:

Accept my thanks, dear dame, before I go,

For this rich treasure thou hast given me.

Capesius (alone and at some distance):

I feel the health that such a picture brings

Into my soul, and how to all my thoughts

It can restore the forces they had lost.

Simple the tale unfolded by the dame,

And yet it rouseth powers of thought in me

That carry me away to worlds unknown.…

Therefore will I in this fair solitude

Myself to dreams abandon, which so oft

Have sought to usher thoughts into my soul,

Thoughts which have proved themselves of higher worth

Than many a fruit of weeks of close research.

Johannes to himself:

Was this some dream, or was it truth indeed?

I cannot bear the words my friend just spake

In calm serenity and yet so firm

About our separation which must come.

Would I might think it was but worldly sense,

That sets itself against the spirit’s trend,

And, like a mirage, stands between us twain. [194]

I cannot, and I will not let the words

Of warning which Maria spake to me

Thus quench the sounding voice of mine own soul

Which says ‘I love her,’ says it night and day.

Out of the fountain of my love alone

Springs that activity for which I crave.

What value hath my impulse to create

Or yet my outlook on high spirit-aims

If they would rob me of that very light

Which can alone irradiate myself?

In this illumination must I live,

And if it is to be withdrawn from me

Then shall my choice be death for evermore.

I feel my forces fail me at this hour

As soon as I would set myself to think;

It must be that I wander o’er a path

Whereon her light sheds not its radiant beam.

A mist begins to form before mine eyes

Which shrouds the marvels o’er, which used to make

These woods, these cliffs a glory to mine eyes,—

A fearful dream mounts from abysmal depths—

Which shakes me through and through with fear and dread—

O get thee gone from me;—I yearn to be

Alone to dream my individual dreams;

In them at least I still can fight and strive

To win back that which now seems lost to me.

He will not go;—then will I fly from him.

What are the bonds that hold me prisoner [195]

And chain me, as with fetters, to this place?

Ah!—whosoe’er thou art; if human blood

Doth course within thy veins, or if thou art

Some spirit only—leave me and depart.

Who is it?—Here some demon brings to me

My own self’s likeness,—he will not depart;—

It is the picture of my very self

And seems to be more powerful than that self.—

Double:

Maria, I do love thee;—beating heart

And fevered blood are mine when at thy side.

And when thine eye meets mine, my pulse doth thrill

With passion’s tremor: when thy dearest hand

Doth nestle in mine own, my body swoons

With rapture and delight.

Johannes:

With rapture and delight. Thou phantom ghost,

Of mist and fog compact, how dost thou dare

To utter blasphemy and so malign

The purest feelings of my heart. How great

A load of guilt must I have laid on me,

That I must be compelled to look upon

Such lust—befouled distortion of that love

That is to me so holy.

Double:

That is to me so holy. I have lent

Full oft unto thy words a listening ear.

I seemed to draw them up into my soul

As ’twere some message from the spirit-world. [196]

But more than any scene thy words disclosed

I loved to have thy body close to mine.

And when thou spakst of soul-paths I was filled

With rapture that went leaping through my veins.

Conscience:

This is the unconfessed

But not yet dispossessed

Apparently repressed

Still by the blood possessed

The hidden lure

Of sexual power.

Double (with a slightly different voice):

I have no power to go away from thee;

Oft wilt thou find me standing by thy side;

I leave thee not till thou hast found the power

Which makes of me the very counterpart

Of that pure being which thou shalt become.

As yet thou hast not reached that high estate.

In the illusion of thy personal self

Thou thinkst mistakenly that thou art he.

Lucifer:

O man, o’ercome thyself.

O man, deliver me.

Thou hast defeated me

In thy soul’s highest realm;

But I am bound to thee

In thine own being’s depth.

Me shalt thou ever find [197]

Across thy path in life

If thou wouldst strive to shield

All of thyself from me.

O man, o’ercome thyself,

O man, deliver me.

Ahriman:

O man, be bold and dare.

O man, experience me.

Thou hast availed to win

To spirit seership here,

But I must spoil for thee

The longing of thy heart.

Still must thou suffer oft

Deep agony of soul,

If thou dost not consent

To make use of my powers.

O man be bold and dare.

O man, experience me.

Capesius:

What have I seen and heard! It lay on me

Just like some nightmare. Came Thomasius

Walking like one who is absorbed in thought;

Then he stood still; it seemed as if he talked

With someone, and yet no one else was there. [198]

I felt o’ercome as by some deadly fear;

And saw no more of what went on around.

As if I were asleep, and unaware,

I must have sunk into yon picture-world

Which I can now so clearly call to mind.

It can indeed have been but little time

I sat and dreamed, unconscious of myself;

And yet, how rich was yonder world of dreams,

What strange impressions doth it make on me.

Persons were there who lived in bygone days,

I plainly saw them move and heard them speak.

I dreamed about a spirit-brotherhood

Which strove with steadfast purpose to attain

Unto the heights which crown humanity.

Among them I could clearly see myself,

And all that happened was familiar too.

A dream …, yet most unnerving was that dream.

I know that in this life I certainly

Can ne’er have learned to know the like of it.

And each impression that it leaves behind

Reacts like very life upon my soul.

Those pictures draw me with resistless power …;

O if I could but dream that dream again.

First Countryman:

See yon vile Jew; he surely will not dare

To take the same road that we take ourselves;

For things might very well come to his ears

On hearing which they’d burn for many a day.

Second Countryman:

We must make clear to his effrontery,

Aye, very clear indeed, that we no more

Will tolerate his race in our good land

Across whose bounds he hath contrived to slink.

First Countrywoman:

He is protected by the noble knights

Who live up in yon castle; none of us [200]

May enter it; the Jew is welcome there.

For he doth do whate’er the knights desire.

Third Countryman:

’Tis very hard to know who serves the Lord

And who the devil. Thankful should we be

To our good lords who give us food and work.

What should we be if it were not for them?

Second Countrywoman:

The Jew shall have my praise; his remedies

Have cured me of the evil sickness that I had.

Besides, he was so good and kind to me.

And many more can tell the selfsame tale.

Third Countrywoman:

Yet did a monk let slip the truth to me,—

The devil’s remedies the Jew employs.

Beware his drugs; transformed within the blood

They grant an entrance to all kinds of sin.

Fourth Countryman:

The men who wait upon the knights oppose

Our ancient customs, saying that the Jew

Hath stores of knowledge both to heal and bless

Which will in days to come be rightly prized.

Fifth Countryman:

New times and better are in store; I see

Their coming in my spirit, when my soul

Pictures to me what eyes cannot behold.

The knights intend to bring all this about.

Fourth Countrywoman:

We owe the Church obedience, for she guards

Our souls from devil-visions, and from death,

And from hell-fire. The monks bid us beware

The knights, and their vile sorcerer, the Jew.

Fifth Countrywoman:

Only a short time longer need we bear

In patience the oppression of the knights.

Soon will their citadel in ruins lie.

Thus hath it been foretold me in a dream.

Sixth Countrywoman:

I fear such tales betoken mortal sin—

That noble knights do plot to bring us harm—

Nought do I see but good come from their hands;

I needs must count them Christians, as ourselves.

Sixth Countryman:

What men shall think of them in days to come

’Twere best to leave to be adjudged by those

Who shall live after us. Mere tools are we,

Used by the knights in their satanic arts

To war against true Christianity.

If they be driven out we shall be freed

From their pernicious sway, and live our lives

As we shall choose, in this our native land.

Now let us go to vespers, there to find

That which our souls require, and that which is

In harmony with our ancestral ways.

These novel teachings suit us not at all.

Simon:

Where’er I go, I find awaiting me

The ancient hatred and the bitter taunts.

And yet I suffer not a whit the less

Each time I find myself exposed to them.

There seems to be no reasonable cause

Why people should behave toward me thus.

And yet one thought pursues me evermore

Which makes the truth apparent to my soul,

That nothing can befall us without cause.

So too a reason there must be for this,

That suffering is the lot of all my tribe.

So with the lords of yonder citadel,

I find their lot is near akin to mine.

They have but chosen of their own free will

That which by nature is imposed on me.

They set themselves apart from all mankind,

And strive in isolation to acquire

The powers through which they may attain their goal.

Thus can I feel the debt I owe to fate

And find her blessing in my loneliness.

Forced to rely on my own soul alone

I took the realms of science for my field.

And recognized from what I learned therein

That ripe for new attainments was our time.

The laws of nature, hitherto unknown,

Must now reveal themselves unto mankind

And make him master of the world of sense

Whence he will be allowed to liberate

Powers he can put to use for his own ends.

So have I tried, as far as in me lay,

To make fresh progress in the healing art. [203]

This toil endeared me to the brotherhood.

Its members made me free of their estates

To seek to find the forces that reside

In plants and ’neath the surface of the ground,

That they may yield for us new benefits.

My actions therefore march with their designs,

And I confess that I have plucked with joy

Much goodly fruit whilst going on my way.

Thomas:

Here will I sit and rest a little while.

My soul hath need of rest to find itself

After the shocks which I have had to bear.

Monk:

I greet thee heartily, most valiant son.

Thou hast come here in search of solitude.

Thy work well done, thou wouldst have peace and quiet

In which to turn thy thoughts to spirit-worlds.

To see my well-loved pupil thus employed

Rejoiceth me. But why so sad thine eyes?

’Twould seem anxiety weighs down your soul.

Thomas:

Pain oft is neighbour unto highest bliss;

That this is so my own life proves today.

Monk:

Hast thou then met with bliss and pain at once?

Thomas:

I told thee, reverend father, that I loved

The mountain-warden’s daughter, and confessed

That she was also greatly drawn to me.

She is to marry me and share my life.

Monk:

She will be true to thee, come weal, come woe;

She is a faithful daughter of the Church.

Thomas:

Such an one only would I take to wife;

Since, honoured master, I have learned from thee

The meaning of obedience to God’s will.

Monk:

And art thou also certain of thy soul,

That it will walk still further in the way

Of righteousness, which I have pointed out?

Thomas:

So sure as in this body beats a heart,

So sure will I, thy son, be true for aye

To those exalted teachings which of old

From thine own lips I was allowed to learn.

Monk:

And now that thou hast told me of thy bliss

Let me hear also from thee of thy woe.

Thomas:

Oft have I told thee what my life hath been.

Scarce had I left my childhood’s days behind

Than I began to travel and to roam. [205]

I never worked for long in any place.

Ever I cherished in my heart the wish

To meet my father, whom I loved, although

I had not heard a good report of him.

He left my dear good mother all alone

Because he wished to start his life anew

Unhampered by a wife and children twain.

The impulse for adventure dwelt in him.

I was a child still, when he went from us.

My sister was a tiny new-born babe.

My mother died of grief in no long time.

My sister was adopted by good folk

Who later moved away from my old home.

And of her fate I never more heard tell.

Some relatives assisted me to learn

A miner’s work, in which I expert grew,

So that I found employment where I wished.

The hope that some day I should once more find

My father, never vanished from my heart.

And now my hope at last is realized

But also is for ever torn from me.

Matters of business led me yesterday

To seek for speech with my superior.

Thou knowst how lightly I esteem the knight

Who issueth the directions for my work

Since I have learned thou art his enemy.

From that time forward I made up my mind

Not to remain in service under him.

For reasons which remain unknown to me

The knight alluded in our interview

To matters which allowed him to declare

Himself to be—the father whom I sought. [206]

What followed … I would gladly leave untold.

It would not have been hard to overlook

My mother’s sufferings at his hands, and mine,

When he and I once more stood face to face,

And when he spoke, grief-burdened, of old days.

But in his form, stood facing me, thy foe.

And one thing then was manifest to me:—

How deep a gulf must ever separate

Myself from him, whom I so fain would love,

And whom I sought so long and ardently.

Now have I lost him for the second time,

Such is the lot that hath befallen me.

Monk:

I would not e’er estrange thee from those ties

Imposed on thee by blood-relationship.

But what I can bestow upon thy soul

Shall ever be to thee a gift of love.

Grand Master:

Ye who are joined with me in comradeship

To seek the goal appointed unto man,

And bring that knowledge from the spirit-realm

Into the scope of earth’s activities,

As is appointed to our brotherhood,

Must also truly help me in this hour

When heavy trials impend. Then, know ye all

That since our venerated master fell,

A victim by the Powers of Darkness claimed,

Who draw their strength from Evil, helping on

The plan of Wisdom by their natural means,

That is by means of Opposition’s strength,

Since Wisdom turneth Evil into Good: [208]

Since that sad loss we strive on earth in vain,

For many a castle of our brotherhood

Hath by our enemies been overwhelmed,

And many brothers dear to us have fallen

In fight, and followed our great Master home

Into the realm of everlasting light.

For us too doth the hour approach apace

When these stout walls that shelter us shall fall.

Our foes already spy the country round

To find a pretext under which they may

Rob us of our possessions, ne’er acquired

For our own use, but as a means to draw

Around us individuals, in whose souls

We could implant the germs of things to come.

These germs shall ripen when those men themselves

Find their way back from out the spirit-land

To live anew in future days on earth.

First Master of Ceremonies:

That this our brotherhood should be o’erthrown

By some obscure design of destiny,

Is something nowise inconceivable.

But that the fall of our community

Should doom so many brothers’ single lives,

Would seem to contravene the cosmic law.

I do not wish my words to make complaint,

Since willingly our brothers suffer death.

But still my soul desires to comprehend

The sacrifice demanded from these men

Who have allied themselves unto a whole,

Because the powers of destiny decree

The overthrow and ruin of that whole.

Grand Master:

The separate life of individual men

Is linked most wisely to the world’s design.

Amongst our brothers there will surely be

Some who have given proof of competence

To serve our brotherhood with their soul’s power

And yet whose nature still shows many a stain.

The errors and misdeeds of such a heart

Must find their expiation in the pain

Suffered by it in service for the whole

And he who, blameless both in act and deed,

Must none the less walk in the thorny way

Traced by the Karma of the brotherhood,

Will find his pain requited by the power

To mount aloft unto the higher life.

First Master of Ceremonies:

So then the brotherhood may tolerate

Within its ranks souls not yet purified

Who vow themselves to its exalted aims?

Grand Master:

He who to lofty works is dedicate

Doth mark alone the goodness in men’s souls;

He lets the evil work its ransom out

As cosmic justice in its course decides.

My brothers, I have bid you meet me here

In order to remind you with grave words

That we have duties in our days of grief.

We must be ready to lay down our lives

For those high purposes to which we swore

Lifelong allegiance. Ye then are indeed [210]

My brothers, if undauntedly your souls

Repeat the motto of our brotherhood:

‘Both separateness and life must be forsworn

By those who would set eyes on spirit-goals

Through occult senses unto them revealed;

Who dare to let the spirit’s will pour down

And flood their individual purposes.’

First Preceptor:

Exalted Master, shouldst thou deign to test

The heart of each man in our brotherhood,

It would repeat that motto loud and clear!—

Yet do we beg thee to explain to us

Why, not content with robbing us of life

And our possessions, now our enemies

Would rob us also of those humble souls

Whom we have tended with unselfish love.

For every day affords new evidence

That not alone compulsion makes our folk

Submit themselves unto our conquerors;

But that indeed they too have learned to hate

The spirit-path which we had shown to them.

Grand Master:

That which we have implanted in men’s souls

May die indeed today; but these same men,

Who once have breathed our spirit-radiance,

Will come again to earth, and then bestow

Upon the world the fruitage of our work.

Thus speaks unto my spirit oftentimes

Our mighty leader from the realm of death,

When in my quiet hours, I do sink down

Into my soul’s deep places, and arouse [211]

Strength to abide awhile in spirit-lands.

Then may I feel the master’s presence near

And hear his words, as in the life of sense

I often heard them. Never doth he speak

About our work as drawing to a close;

But only of fulfilment of our aims

In later days that are to come on earth.

First Preceptor:

He speaks of spirit-worlds in just such words

As men may speak of villages or towns.…

The way in which our loftiest brothers speak

Of other states of life oppresseth me.

And yet I am devoted fervently

Unto the progress of our earthly aims.

Second Master of Ceremonies:

My firm reliance is our master’s words.

The man who cannot hear with perfect faith

The tale of spirit and of spirit-worlds,—

Is nowise lacking in the faculties

To grasp a revelation of this kind.

The things he lacks are of a different mould.

He may well guess, unwilling to admit,

That he is conscious of unworthiness

To be a member of the higher worlds.

A soul must be defiled by secret stain

And eager to deny that they are there,

That will not bow before the spirit-lore.

Second Preceptor:

What errand bringeth thee to this our house

Which is for thee the home of enemies?

Monk:

I must include amongst my friends all those

Who bear the form of men. This is our rule.

But hostile thou mayst well esteem the claim

Which I, by duty bound, must here present.

Those who are over me have sent me here.

And their desire is that the property

Belonging to the Church, as by old deeds

Is well attested, should be given back

To them without dispute. Yon tract of ground

Upon which ye have sunk your mine, belongs

In law and equity unto the Church.

The manner in which ye possessed yourselves

Of this estate confers no legal rights.

Second Preceptor:

Whether in law we have a right to call

It ours or no, would constitute a case

For legal disputation long drawn out.

But certain ’tis that it belongs to us

If we refer it to a higher law.

Yon tract of ground was lying lost and waste

When it was purchased by our brotherhood:

Not e’en an inkling had ye of the fact

That far below rich treasure lay concealed.

This have we won for human industry.

Its treasures travel far and wide today

To distant lands, to further human weal. [213]

And many honest souls are now at work

In shaft and tunnel underneath the ground

Which in your hands lay waste and desolate.

Monk:

Then it doth not seem fair and right to thee

To urge upon thy brotherhood the need

Of peaceably accepting our demand

That so we may regain our property?

Second Preceptor:

Since we are not aware of any guilt,

But are convinced our cause is wholly just,

We can but wait in quiet confidence

To see if ye are really bent on strife,

When as before, yourselves are in the wrong.

Monk:

Then will ye have to thank your headstrong will

If we are driven to a sterner course.

Second Preceptor:

The honour of our brotherhood demands

That only when defeated, sword in hand,

Do we allow ourselves to be despoiled.

Monk:

So be it! Now my mission is fulfilled.

Between us there is no more need of words.

Will it be possible for me to have

An audience with thy lord, who here commands?

Second Preceptor:

The master doubtless will concede thee this;

Yet wait, I pray three, for a little while.

He cannot at this moment come to thee.

Monk:

O, that mine office forceth me to tread

The halls of this detested brotherhood.

Turn where they may, my eyes must contemplate

Sinful devices and satanic spells.

Almost a horror seizeth hold on me;

A crackling and a rumbling fill the air;

I feel the powers of ill are gathered round.

But as my conscience is entirely clear

I will defy the enemy.

I will defy the enemy. Oh, this

Is terrible.…

Is terrible.... Defend me, Saints in Heaven!

Benedictus:

Collect thyself, my son. I often came

To meet thee, when the fervour of thy prayers

Transported thee unto the spirit-world.

Take therefore courage in this present hour

And learn a truth which thou must realize

If spirit clearness is to hold its sway

And drive away the darkness from thy soul.

Monk:

When in my trials I prayed to Heaven for light,

And when my supplication winged its way

To realms celestial, and won response,

Thou, venerated master, didst appear.

Thou, who wast aye our Order’s ornament,

The while thou wert amongst us here on earth,

And out of higher realms didst speak to me,

Enlightening my mind and strengthening me.

My soul beheld thee with its inner eye,

My spirit ear was open to thy words.

In this hour also then, will I receive

The revelation with humility

Which thou shalt cause to flow into my soul.

Benedictus:

Thou art within that brotherhood’s abode

Whom thou dost charge with wicked heresies.

They seem to hate what we are taught to love

And hold in honour what we count as sin.

Our brethren feel themselves in duty bound

To haste the spirit-brethren’s overthrow,

And think their action sanctioned by the words

I spake myself whilst I was still on earth.

Yet do they not imagine that these words

Can only hold the living truth so long

As they are rightly acted on by those

Who have been my successors in my work.

So let those thoughts which I once held on earth

Rise up afresh and live within thy soul

In harmony with needs of newer times.

And thus behold this Order, which doth seek [216]

Its goal in mystic realms, as I should judge

And look on it, if it had been my lot

To dwell on earth and work with thee today.

This brotherhood is vowed to lofty aims.

These individuals who have joined its ranks

Have premonitions of the days to come;

Their leaders see with a prophetic eye

The fruits that shall grow ripe in future times;

Science and daily life shall undergo

A change of form and seek ideals new;

And what this brotherhood doth now achieve,

Whom thou hast lent a hand to persecute,

Are deeds which serve to bring this change about.

Alone by peaceful union of the aims

Sought by our brethren and these heretics

Can good be made to blossom on this earth.

Monk:

This warning, of which I am worthy found,

How can I act upon it? It departs

Amazingly from all that I have held,

Up to this moment, to be right and good.

But other beings now are drawing nigh!

Why do they come and stand beside thee now?

Ahriman:

This further message comes from other realms.

It cannot seem an easy thing for thee

Thy predecessor’s bidding to obey.

Reflect—he dwells in everlasting bliss.

And actions by decree and duty there

Desirable, may well upon the earth [217]

Lead to confusion at the present time.

Lift up thine eyes to where he dwells on high

If thou wouldst seek for comfort from the bliss

That, when the latter days of earth draw near,

By cosmic spirits is to be bestowed.

But if at present thou wouldst act aright,

Be guided only, in the choice of paths,

By that which reason and the senses teach.

Thou hast been able clearly to discern

The sinful ways of yonder brotherhood

Which they would fain keep secret from the world;

Thus hast thou learned that laws for future life

Can well be framed by souls now steeped in sin!

How canst thou wish, now that thou knowst these things,

To live in friendship with the brotherhood?

For error is a poor and sterile soil

Where good fruit cannot come to ripening.

Lucifer:

Thy pious mind hath shown the road to thee.

It is most true that times and objects change;

But none the less ’tis not for heretics

To trace the paths on which mankind must tread.

The error of this spirit-brotherhood

Is dangerous, because it speaks the truth,

And yet expresses it in such a way

As makes the truth more deadly than a lie.

A man who openly avowed he lied

Would have to be bereft of common sense

’Ere he could bring himself to such belief

That men would gladly follow where he led. [218]

The spirit-knights indeed are shrewd of mind;

They do not fail to speak about the Christ

Because this name can open every door

That gives admission to the souls of men.

But ever can men easiest be led

Into the service of the Antichrist

When in the name of Christ he is proclaimed.

Monk:

Conflicting voices from the world of souls

Assail mine ears, as often heretofore,

And always with an aim to counteract

The pious promptings of a mind devout.

How shall I find the paths that lead to good

If by the Powers of Evil they be praised?

Almost it seems to me as if indeed …;

But no, such words shall not be thought by me—,

The wisdom of my master shall reveal

The meaning of his words, so dark to me.

Benedictus:

I can direct thee to the proper path,

If thou wilt let the words which once I spake

On earth possess thee in thine inmost soul.

And if thou art resolved to find the life

That lives within those words upon those planes

On which thou now canst see me face to face,

The proper path shall be made plain to thee.

First Preceptor:

Thou didst send word thou wouldst have speech with me.

What is the news that thou art come to bring?

Joseph Keane:

Most weighty matters both to thee and me.

Thou knowst the master miner Thomas here,

Who renders service to thee?

First Preceptor:

Who renders service to thee? Well I know

The worthy man; we prize him for his skill,

And his subordinates hold him in love.

Keane:

And dost thou know my child, Cecilia, too?

First Preceptor (moved):

It hath so chanced that I have seen the maid

When I have met thee with thy family.

Keane:

It happened that soon after Thomas came

He paid us frequent visits in our home.

They grew more frequent; it was evident

That to Cecilia his whole heart went out.

We did not marvel that this should be so.

But, knowing our girl’s nature, it was long

Ere we could think that she returned his love.

Her life was well nigh one continuous prayer,

And almost all society she shunned.

Yet ever doth it now appear more clear

That to this stranger she hath giv’n her heart.

And as things are, we feel ourselves compelled

Not to oppose the wishes of our child;

Thomas she loves, and she would marry him.

First Preceptor (with faltering movements):

Why runs this marriage counter to thy will?

Keane:

My lord, there is no need for me to tell

Of my devotion to the brotherhood.

My heart would have to bear a heavy load

If my child’s love, in its entirety,

Were cast upon the side of those who say

That you and I alike are heretics.

The monk who now o’er yonder abbey rules

Close by our home, and who doth ever seek

To thwart the mission of the brotherhood,

Hath won dominion o’er our daughter’s soul.

As long as she is still beneath my roof

So long shall I too not abandon hope [221]

That she may yet again retrace the path

Which leads from spirit-darkness unto light.

But I shall have to give her up for lost

When she shall have become the wife of one

Who, like herself, works for the weal of man

According to the precepts of that monk.

His Reverence hath had complete success

In foisting such opinions as he holds

On Thomas, who receives them in full faith.

A thrill of terror would run over me

To hear the curses pour from Thomas’ lips

Whene’er we spake about the brotherhood.

First Preceptor:

Our enemies are many; if one more

Is added it cannot affect us much.

Thy words have not yet made it clear to me

What my concern is with this tale of love.

Keane:

My lord, thou seest this packet in mine hand.

Its contents warrant me to come to thee.

My wife and I alone have read the lines:

None else in these parts knows a word of them.

Now must they be made known to thee as well—

The maid who passeth for our flesh and blood

Is not the offspring of my wife and me.

We undertook the training of the child

When her own mother died. What I have still

To say will make it seem unnecessary,

To tell at length how all this came to pass.

For long we knew not who her father was; [222]

The girl today knows not her parentage.

Father and mother she beholds in us.

And such a state of things might have gone on

Since we do love her as our very own.

But some years later than her mother’s death

The papers that I hold were brought to us;

They make it plain who our child’s father is.

I cannot tell if he is known to thee.

But now I know—am sure …

But now I know—am sure … that thou art he.

There is no need for me to tell thee more.

But since it is thy child who is concerned

I beg thee to extend to me thine aid.

United our endeavours may succeed

To save her from the darkness that impends.

First Preceptor:

Dear Keane. Thou hast been ever true to me,

And I would fain still further count on thee.

Neither within nor yet without these walls

Must any in this country ever know

The truth of my relation to this girl.

Keane:

My word thereon. I mean no harm to thee;

I only beg that thou wilt lend thine aid.

First Preceptor:

Thou dost perceive that at the present time

I cannot talk with thee at greater length.

I pray thee come tomorrow.

Keane:

I pray thee come tomorrow. I will come.

First Preceptor:

How cruelly my fate fulfils itself.

I left my wife and child in misery,

Since they seemed hindrances upon the path

Along which vanity did beckon me.

It led me on to join this brotherhood.

In words of solemn import I then vowed

My service to the cause of human love

Albeit I was laden with the guilt

Arising from the opposite of love.

The brotherhood’s clear vision, as applied

To acts and men, is manifest in me.

It welcomed me a brother in its ranks

And forthwith laid on me its rules severe.

To self-examination was I led

And knowledge of myself, which otherwise

In other walks of life I had not found.

And then when, under Fate’s decree, my son

Came and dwelt near me, I was fain to think

That mighty Powers were merciful to me

In showing how to expiate my sin.

I knew long since that this Keane’s foster-child

Was none else than the daughter whom I left.

The brotherhood is near its overthrow,

Each brother resolute to meet his death,

Convinced that those high purposes will live

For which he makes his life the sacrifice. [224]

But I, alas, have felt for many days

I was not worthy of this glorious end.

My purpose ever ripened to make known

My case unto the master, and to crave

Permission to forsake the brotherhood.

I had in mind thenceforward to devote

My days unto my children, and so far

As in this earth-life yet is possible

To offer penance. But I clearly see,

That ’twas not filial longing brought my son

To this same spot to seek his father out,

Although his good heart made him thus believe.

But he was led by forces in the blood

Which drew him to his sister. Other ties,

Blood-born, were loosened by a father’s guilt,

Or else yon monk had never had the power

To rob me so entirely of my son.

Indeed the robbery is so complete,

That with the brother will the sister too

From my paternal longings be estranged.

And so nought else remains for me but this,

To take immediate measures to ensure

That they shall know the truth about themselves,

And then with resignation to await

The penance laid upon me by those powers

Who keep the reckoning of our misdeeds.

Grand Master:

Henceforward Simon, in the castle walls [225]

Thou must abide, for since that lying tale

Was published that thou art a sorcerer,

Peril awaits thine every step outside.

Simon:

My heart is sore indeed to find that men

In ignorance assail a proffered aid

Whose only object is to do them good.

Grand Master:

Those who, by grace of lofty spirit-powers,

Can turn their gaze upon the souls of men,

Will see the enemies therein arrayed

Which fight against the nature of the soul.

The battle which our mortal foes prepare

Is but an emblem of that greater strife

Waged in the heart incessantly by powers

Which are at enmity amongst themselves.

Simon:

My lord, in very truth these words of thine

Arouse an echo in my deepest soul.

Indeed my nature is not prone to dreams;

Yet when I walk alone through wood and field

A picture often riseth in my soul

Which with my will I can no more control

Than any object which mine eye beholds.

A human form appears in front of me

Which fain would grasp my hand in fellowship.

Such suffering on his features is expressed

As never yet I saw in any face.

The greatness and the beauty of this man [226]

Seize firmly hold of all my powers of soul;

I fain would sink to earth and humbly bow

Before this messenger from other worlds.

Next moment like a raging flame, there comes

The wildest anger searing through my heart,

Nor can I gain the mastery o’er the power

That fans the opposition of my soul,

And I am forced to thrust aside the hand

Which is so lovingly held out to me.

So soon as to my senses I return

The radiant form hath vanished from my sight.

And thereupon, when I recall in thought

That which my spirit hath so often seen,

Before my soul this thought presents itself

Which moves me to the bottom of my heart.

I feel myself attracted by thy lore,

In which a Spirit-being is revealed

Descending from the Kingdom of the Sun,

To take a human form upon Himself,

In order to disclose Himself to men.

I cannot keep the glowing beauty out

That pours upon me from thy noble lore,

And yet my soul will not assent thereto.

The primal form of our humanity

In thy great Spirit-being I admit;

But still my individual self rebels

When I would turn to him in faith and love.

So must I ever wage an inward war

The archetype of every outer strife.

In sore distress, I seek in vain a clue

To solve the riddle of my life and fate:

How comes it that I understand so well [227]

And yet that I in no wise can believe

The things thy noble teachings do reveal?

I follow thine example faithfully,

Yet find myself opposed at every point

To this example’s goal and origin.

And when I must thus recognize myself,

A flood of doubt o’erwhelms my falt’ring faith

That in this life I may yet find myself.

Nay, worse than this, the dread doth haunt me oft

That this bewilderment of doubt may run

Through all the lives that I shall live on earth.

Grand Master:

The picture, which thou sawest, my good friend,

Before my spirit stood out strong and clear

Whilst thou didst paint it in those vivid words;

And as thou didst speak further, then it grew

In breadth before mine eyes until I saw

How cosmic aims are linked to human fate.

First Master of Ceremonies:

Dear brother, I must openly confess

That our Grand Master’s clemency exceeds

My comprehension, when I needs must see

What bitter wrong our foes inflict on us.

Although they will not study what we teach

They scruple not to paint us in men’s eyes

As heretics and messengers from hell.

Second Master of Ceremonies:

His clemency from our own teaching flows.

Can we proclaim life’s highest aim to be

To understand the soul of every man,

And then misunderstand our foes ourselves?

There are amongst them many men indeed

Who follow in the footsteps of the Christ.

Yet even from the souls of such as these

The essence of our teachings must be veiled,

Though they should hear them with the outer ear.

Remember, brother, how reluctantly,

And with what inner conflict, thou wast led

To grant admission to the spirit-voice.

We know, from what the master hath revealed,

That future men will see in Spirit-light

The lofty Being of the Sun, who trod

This Earth once only in a human frame.

This revelation we with joy believe

And gladly follow where our leaders tread.

Yet but a short time since these weighty words