Four Mystery Plays
GA 14
The Portal of Initiation
Scene 2
Landscape: rocks and springs. The entire scene is to be thought of as taking place in the-soul of Johannes Thomasius. What follows is the content of his meditation.
(There sounds from the springs and rocks:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
Johannes:
'Tis thus I hear them, now these many years,
These words of weighty import all around.
I hear them in the wind and in the wave:
Out from earth's depths do they resound to me:
And as a tiny acorn's mystery,
Confines the structure of a mighty oak,
So in the kernel of these words there lies,
All elemental nature; all I grasp
Of soul, of spirit, time, eternity.
It seems mine own peculiarities
And all the world besides live in these words:
‘Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself.’
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
Johannes:
And now—I feel
Mine inmost being terrified to life:
Without the gloom of night doth weave me round,
And deep within my soul thick darkness yawns:
And sounding from this universal gloom
And up from out the darkness of my soul
These words ring forth: ‘Know thou thyself, O man.’
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
Johannes:
It robs me of my very self: I change
Each hour of day, and am transformed by night.
The earth I follow on its cosmic course:
I seem to rumble in the thunder's peal,
And flash adown the lightning's fierce-forked tongue—
I Am.—Alas, already do I feel
Mine own existence snatched away from me.
I see what was my former carnal shape,
As some strange being, quite outside myself,
And infinitely far away from me.
But now another body hovers near;
And through its mouth I am compelled to speak:—
‘Ah, bitter sorrow hath he brought to me;
So utterly I trusted him of old.
He left me lonely with my sorrow's pain,
He robbed me of the very warmth of life,
And thrust me deep beneath the chill, cold ground.’
Poor soul, 'tis she I left, and leaving her
It was in truth mine own self that I left;
And I must suffer all her pain and woe.
For knowledge hath endowed me with the power
Myself into another's self to fuse.
Ah me! Ye quench again by your own power
The light of inner knowledge ye have brought,
Ye cruel words, ‘Know thou thyself, O man.’
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
Johannes:
Ye lead me back again within the sphere
Of mine own being's former fantasies.
Yet in what shape know I myself again!
My human form is lost and gone from me;
Like some fierce dragon do I see myself;
Begotten out of primal lust and greed.
And clearly do I see how up till now
Some dim deluding veil of phantom forms
Hath hid from me mine own monstrosity.
Mine own self's fierceness must devour my Self.
And through my veins run like consuming fire
Those words, that once with elemental force
Revealed the core of suns and earths to me.
They throb within my pulse, beat in mine heart;
And even in mine inmost thoughts I feel
Strange worlds e'en now blaze forth like passions fierce.
They are the fruitage of these very words:
‘Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself.’
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
Johannes:
There,—from that dark abyss, what creature glares?
I feel the chains that hold me chained to thee.
So fast was not Prometheus rivetted
Upon the naked rocks of Caucasus,
I am rivetted and forged to thee
Who art thou, fearful, execrable shape?
(From the springs and rocks resounds:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
Johannes:
Oh yea, I know thee; for thou art myself:
Knowledge doth chain to thee, pernicious beast,
(Enter Maria unnoticed by Johannes.)
Chain mine own self—pernicious beast—to thee.
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.’
Know thou thyself, O man.
Johannes: (As though coming to himself, sees Maria. The meditation passes to the plane of inner reality.)
Thou here, my friend?
Maria:
I sought thee, friend, although I know full well
How comforting to thee is solitude,
When many varying thoughts of many men
Have flooded o'er thy soul. I also know
I cannot by my presence help my friend
In this dark hour of strife—yet yearnings vague
Drive me in this same moment unto thee;
When Benedictus' words, instead of light,
Such grievous sorrow drew from thy soul's depths.
Johannes:
How comforting to me is solitude!
Yea, I have sought to find myself therein,
So often when to labyrinths of thought
The joys and griefs of men had driven me.
But now, O friend, that, too, is past and gone.
What Benedictus' words at first aroused
Within my soul, and all that I lived through
When listening to the speeches of those men,
Seems but indeed a little thing, when I
Compare therewith the storm that solitude
With sullen brooding hath brought forth in me.
Ah me! when I recall this solitude!
It hounded me into the voids of space,
And tore me from my very self in twain,
Within that soul to whom I brought such grief
I rose, as though I were that other self.
And there I had to suffer all the pain
Of which I was myself the primal cause.
Ah cruel, sombre, fearful solitude
Thou giv'st me back unto myself indeed,
Yet but to terrify me with the sight
Of mine own nature's fathomless abyss.
Man's final refuge hath been lost to me:
I have been robbed of solitude.
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's speech
It doth appear to me that we shall walk
One day united, on the spirit-paths.
And yet whene'er I seek to tread these paths
Black night doth spread a curtain round my sight.
And many things I am compelled to see,
Springing 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 is thine, dear friend,
Full well I know. And yet how far remote
From thy pure nature is the avenging force,
That hath so wholly shattered mine own soul.
Thou canst ascend the clearest heights of truth,
And scan with steadfast gaze life's tangled path;
And whether in the darkness or the light
Thou wilt retain thine own identity.
But me each moment may deprive of Self.
Deep down I had to dive within the hearts
Of those who late revealed themselves in speech.
I followed one to cloistered solitude,—
And in another's soul I listened to
Felicia's fairy lore. I was each one;
Only unto myself I seemed as dead;
For I must fain believe that primal life
Did spring from very Nothingness itself,
If it were right to entertain the hope,
That out of that dread nothingness in me
A human being ever could arise.
For I am driven from fear into the dark
And from the darkness back again to fear
By wisdom stored within these living words:
‘Know thou thyself, O man. Know thou thyself.’
(From the springs and rocks the words resound:)
Know thou thyself, O man.
Curtain
Zweites Bild
Gegend im Freien, Felsen, Quellen; die ganze Umgebung ist in der Seele Johannes Thomasius’ zu denken; das Folgende als Inhalt seiner Meditation.
(Es tönt aus Quellen und Felsen: O Mensch, erkenne dich!)
Johannes:
So hör ich sie seit Jahren schon,
Die inhaltschweren Worte.
Sie tönen mir aus Luft und Wasser,
Sie klingen aus dem Erdengrund herauf,
Und wie ins kleine Samenkorn geheimnisvoll
Der Rieseneiche Bau sich drängt,
So schließt zuletzt sich ein
In dieser Worte Kraft,
Was von der Elemente Wesen,
Von Seelen und von Geistern,
Von Zeitenlauf und Ewigkeit,
Begreiflich meinem Denken ist.
Die Welt und meine Eigenheit,
Sie leben in dem Worte:
O Mensch, erkenne dich!
(Aus Quellen und Felsen tönt es: O Mensch, erkenne dich!)
Und jetzt! ‒ es wird
Im Innern mir lebendig fürchterlich.
Es webt um mich das Dunkel,
Es gähnt in mir die Finsternis;
Es tönt aus Weltendunkel,
Es klingt aus Seelenfinsternis:
O Mensch, erkenne dich!
(Es tönt aus Quellen und Felsen: O Mensch, erkenne dich!)
Es raubt mich jetzt mir selbst.
Ich wechsle mit des Tages Stundenlauf,
Und wandle mich in Nacht.
Der Erde folge ich in ihrer Weltenbahn.
Ich rolle in dem Donner,
Ich zucke in den Blitzen.
Ich bin. – O schon entschwunden
Dem eignen Wesen fühl’ ich mich.
Ich sehe meine Leibeshülle;
Sie ist ein fremdes Wesen außer mir,
Sie ist ganz fern von mir.
Da schwebt heran ein andrer Leib.
Ich muß mit seinem Munde sprechen.
«Er hat mir bittre Not gebracht;
Ich habe ihm so ganz vertraut.
Er ließ im Kummer mich allein,
Er raubte mir die Lebenswärme,
Und stieß in kalte Erde mich.»
Die ich verließ, die Arme,
Ich war sie eben selbst.
Ich muß erleiden ihre Qual.
Erkenntnis hat mir Kraft verliehn,
Mein Selbst in andres Selbst zu tragen.
O grausam Wort!
Dein Licht verlöscht durch eigne Kraft.
O Mensch, erkenne dich!
(Es tönt aus Quellen und Felsen: O Mensch, erkenne dich!)
Du führst zurück mich wieder
In meines eignen Wesens Kreise.
Doch wie erkenne ich mich wieder!
Mir ist verloren Menschenform.
Ein wilder Wurm erschein ich mir,
Aus Lust und Gier geboren.
Und klar empfinde ich,
Wie eines Wahnes Nebelbild
Die eigne Schreckgestalt
Bisher verborgen mir gehalten hat.
Verschlingen muß mich eignen Wesens Wildheit.
Ich fühle als verzehrend Feuer
Durch meine Adern rinnen jene Worte,
Die mir so urgewaltig sonst
Der Sonnen und der Erden Wesen offenbarten.
Sie leben in den Pulsen,
Sie schlagen mir im Herzen;
Und selbst im eignen Denken fühle ich
Die fremden Welten schon als wilde Triebe lodern.
Das sind des Wortes Früchte:
O Mensch, erkenne dich!
(Es tönt aus Quellen und Felsen: O Mensch, erkenne dich!)
Da, aus dem finstern Abgrund, ‒
Welch Wesen glotzt mich an?
Ich fühle Fesseln,
Die mich an dich gefesselt halten.
So fest war nicht Prometheus
Geschmiedet an des Kaukasus Felsen,
Wie ich an dich geschmiedet bin.
Wer bist du, schauervolles Wesen?
(Es tönt aus Quellen und Felsen: O Mensch, erkenne dich!)
O, ich erkenne dich.
Ich bin es selbst.
Erkenntnis schmiedet an dich verderblich Ungeheuer
(Maria tritt ein, wird von Johannes zunächst nicht bemerkt.)
Mich selbst verderblich Ungeheuer.
Entfliehen wollt ich dir.
Geblendet haben mich die Welten,
In welche meine Torheit floh,
Um von mir selber frei zu sein.
Geblendet bin ich wieder in der blinden Seele:
O Mensch, erkenne dich!
(Es tönt aus Quellen und Felsen: O Mensch, erkenne dich!)
Johannes (wie wenn er zu sich käme, erblickt Maria. Die Meditation geht in innere Realität über):
O Freundin, du bist hier!
Maria:
Ich suchte dich, mein Freund;
Obwohl bekannt mir ist,
Wie lieb dir Einsamkeit,
Nachdem so vieler Menschen Meinungen
Die Seele dir durchflutet.
Und weiß ich auch,
Daß ich durch meine Gegenwart dem Freund
In dieser Zeit nicht helfen kann,
So drängt ein dunkles Streben
In diesem Augenblick mich doch zu dir,
Da Benedictus’ Worte dir statt Licht
So schweres Leid
Aus deines Geistes Tiefen lockten.
Johannes:
Wie lieb mir Einsamkeit!
--------
Ich habe sie so oft gesucht,
In ihr mich selbst zu finden,
Wenn in Gedankenlabyrinthe mich
Der Menschen Leid und Glück getrieben hatten.
O Freundin, das ist nun vorbei.
Was Benedictus’ Worte erst
Mir aus der Seele holten,
Was durch der Menschen Reden
Ich erleben mußte,
Gering nur scheint es mir,
Vergleich dem Sturm ich dies,
Den Einsamkeit mir dann gebracht
In dumpfem Brüten.
O diese Einsamkeit!
Sie hetzte mich in Weltenweiten.
Entrissen hat sie mich mir selbst.
In jenem Wesen, dem ich Leid gebracht,
Erstand ich als ein Andrer.
Und leiden mußte ich den Schmerz,
Den ich erst selbst bewirkt.
Die grausam finstre Einsamkeit,
Sie gab mich dann mir selber wieder.
Doch nur, zu schrecken mich
Durch meines eignen Wesens Abgrund.
--------
Mir ist des Menschen letzte Zuflucht,
Mir ist die Einsamkeit verloren.
Maria:
Ich muß das Wort dir wiederholen:
Nur Benedictus kann dir helfen.
Die Stützen, die uns fehlen,
Wir müssen beide sie von ihm erhalten.
Denn wisse, auch ich kann länger nicht
Ertragen meines Lebens Rätsel,
Wenn nicht durch seinen Wink
Die Lösung sich mir zeigt.
Die hohe Weisheit, daß stets über alles Leben
Nur Schein und Trug sich breitet,
Wenn unser Denken seine Oberfläche bloß ergreift,
Ich habe sie recht oft mir vorgehalten.
Und immer wieder sprach sie:
Du mußt erkennen, wie dich Wahn umfängt,
So oft es dir auch Wahrheit dünkt,
Es könnte schlimme Frucht erstehn,
Wenn du erwecken willst in Andern Licht,
Das in dir selber lebt.
In meiner Seele bestem Teil ist mir bewußt,
Daß auch der schwere Druck,
Den dir, mein Freund,
Das Leben hat gebracht an meiner Seite,
Ein Teil des Dornenweges ist,
Der zu dem Licht der Wahrheit führt.
Erleben mußt du alle Schrecken,
Die aus dem Wahn erstehen können,
Bevor der Wahrheit Wesen sich dir offenbart.
So spricht dein Stern.
Doch auch erscheint mir durch dies Sternenwort,
Daß wir vereint die Geisteswege wandeln müssen.
Doch such ich diese Wege,
So breitet sich vor meinem Blicke finstre Nacht.
Und schwärzer wird die Nacht durch vieles noch,
Was ich erleben muß
Als Früchte meines Wesens.
Wir müssen beide Klarheit in dem Lichte suchen,
Das wohl dem Aug entschwinden,
Doch nie erlöschen kann.
Johannes:
Maria, ist dir denn bewußt,
Was meine Seele eben durchgerungen?
Ein schweres Los fürwahr
Ist dir geworden, edle Freundin.
Doch ferne liegt ja deinem Wesen jene Macht,
Die mich so ganz zerschmettert hat.
Du kannst in hellste Wahrheitshöhen steigen,
Du kannst die sichern Blicke
In Menschenwirrnis richten,
Du wirst in Licht und Finsternis
Dich selbst bewahren.
Mir aber kann ein jeder Augenblick
Mich selber rauben.
Ich mußte in die Menschen untertauchen,
Die sich vorhin in Worten offenbarten.
Ich folgt’ dem Einen in die Klostereinsamkeit,
Ich hörte in des andern Seele
Felicias Märchen.
Ich war ein jeder,
Nur selbst erstarb ich mir.
Ich müsste glauben können,
Daß Nichts der Wesen Ursprung sei,
Wenn ich die Hoffnung hegen sollte,
Daß aus dem Nichts in mir
Ein Mensch je werden könne.
Mich führt aus Furcht in Finsternis,
Und jagt durch Finsternis in Furcht
Der Weisheit Wesenswort:
O Mensch, erkenne dich!
(Aus Quellen und Felsen tönt es: O Mensch, erkenne dich!)
(Der Vorhang fällt.)
Scene Two
Outdoor area, rocks, springs; the entire surroundings can be imagined in the soul of Johannes Thomasius; the following is the content of his meditation.
(It sounds from springs and rocks: O man, recognize yourself!)
Johannes:
I have been hearing them for years,
These words heavy with meaning.
They sound to me from the air and water,
They sound from the depths of the earth,
And just as the giant oak tree mysteriously
Is contained within a small seed,
So finally it closes
In the power of these words,
What of the essence of the elements,
Of souls and spirits,
Of the passage of time and eternity,
Is comprehensible to my thinking.
The world and my own nature,
They live in the words:
O man, know thyself!
(From springs and rocks it sounds: O man, know thyself!)
And now! ‒ it becomes
Terribly alive within me.
Darkness weaves around me,
Darkness yawns within me;
It resounds from the darkness of the world,
It sounds from the darkness of the soul:
O man, know thyself!
(It resounds from springs and rocks: O man, know thyself!)
It now robs me of myself.
I change with the passing of the day,
And transform myself into night.
I follow the earth in its orbit.
I roll in the thunder,
I flicker in the lightning.
I am. – O already vanished
I feel myself from my own being.
I see my physical shell;
It is a foreign being outside of me,
It is far away from me.
Another body floats toward me.
I must speak with its mouth.
"He brought me bitter hardship;
I trusted him so completely.
He left me alone in my grief,
He robbed me of the warmth of life,
And thrust me into cold earth."
The one I left, the poor thing,
Was myself.
I must suffer her torment.
Knowledge has given me strength,
To carry my self into another self.
O cruel word!
Your light is extinguished by your own power.
O human, recognize yourself!
(It sounds from springs and rocks: O human, recognize yourself!)
You lead me back again
Into the circles of my own being.
But how do I recognize myself again!
I have lost my human form.
I appear to me as a wild worm,
Born of lust and greed.
And I clearly feel
How, like a delusional mirage,
My own terrifying form
Has been hidden from me until now.
The wildness of my own being must devour me.
I feel like a consuming fire
Those words run through my veins,
Which otherwise revealed to me so powerfully
The nature of the sun and the earth.
They live in my pulse,
They beat in my heart;
And even in my own thoughts I feel
The foreign worlds already blazing as wild urges.
These are the fruits of the word:
O man, know thyself!
(It sounds from springs and rocks: O man, know thyself!)
There, from the dark abyss, ‒
What creature stares at me?
I feel chains
That bind me to you.
Prometheus was not so firmly
Forged to the rocks of the Caucasus
As I am forged to you.
Who are you, terrifying creature?
(It sounds from springs and rocks: O man, recognize yourself!)
O, I recognize you.
It is I myself.
Recognition forges you, pernicious monster
(Mary enters, initially unnoticed by John.)
Myself, a destructive monster.
I wanted to escape from you.
The worlds blinded me,
Into which my folly fled,
To be free from myself.
I am blinded again in my blind soul:
O man, know thyself!
(It sounds from springs and rocks: O man, know thyself!)
John (as if coming to himself, sees Mary. The meditation merges into inner reality):
O friend, you are here!
Mary:
I sought you, my friend;
Although I know
How dear solitude is to you,
After so many people's opinions
Flood your soul.
And although I know
That my presence cannot help my friend
At this time,
A dark longing
Urges me to you at this moment,
Since Benedictus' words, instead of light,
Have drawn such heavy sorrow
From the depths of your spirit.
Johnnes:
How dear to me is solitude!
--------
I have sought it so often,
To find myself in it,
When in labyrinths of thought
The suffering and happiness of men had driven me.
O friend, that is now over.
What Benedictus' words first
From my soul,
What I had to experience
Through people's words,
Seems insignificant to me,
Compared to the storm
That loneliness then brought me
In dull brooding.
Oh, this loneliness!
It drove me into worlds far away.
It tore me away from myself.
In that being to whom I brought suffering,
I arose as another.
And I had to suffer the pain
That I myself had caused.
The cruel, dark loneliness
Then gave me back to myself.
But only to terrify me
With the abyss of my own being.
--------
I have lost humanity's last refuge,
I have lost loneliness.
I must repeat the words to you:
Only Benedictus can help you.
The support we lack,
We must both receive it from him.
For know that I, too, can no longer
Bear the mystery of my life,
Unless through his sign
The solution is revealed to me.
The high wisdom that always over all life
Only illusion and deceit spread,
When our thinking merely grasps its surface,
I have held it before me quite often.
And again and again it said:
You must recognize how delusion surrounds you,
No matter how often it seems true to you,
It could bear bad fruit,
If you want to awaken light in others,
That lives within yourself.
In the best part of my soul, I am aware
That even the heavy pressure
That life has brought you, my friend,
At my side,
Is part of the thorny path
That leads to the light of truth.
You must experience all the horrors
That can arise from delusion,
Before the essence of truth reveals itself to you.
So speaks your star.
But this star's message also seems to me
That we must walk the paths of the spirit together.
But when I seek these paths,
A dark night spreads before my eyes.
And the night grows even blacker through many things
That I must experience
As the fruits of my being. We must both seek clarity in the light
That may disappear from the eye,
But can never be extinguished.
Johnnes:
Mary, are you aware
What my soul has just gone through?
A heavy fate indeed
Has befallen you, noble friend.
But far removed from your nature is that power
Which has so completely shattered me.
You can ascend to the brightest heights of truth,
You can direct your confident gaze
Into the confusion of humanity,
You will preserve yourself in light and darkness.
But for me, every moment
Can rob me of myself.
I had to immerse myself in the people
Who had just revealed themselves in words.
I followed one into the solitude of the monastery,
I heard in the other's soul
Felicia's fairy tales.
I was everyone,
Only I myself died to myself.
I would have to be able to believe
That nothing is the origin of beings,
If I were to cherish the hope
That out of the nothingness in me
A human being could ever become.
Fear leads me into darkness,
And through darkness in fear chases me
The word of wisdom's essence:
O man, know thyself!
(From springs and rocks it sounds: O man, know thyself!)
(The curtain falls.)