Four Mystery Plays
GA 14
The Portal of Initiation
Scene 8
Same room as for Scene 1. Johannes at an easel, before which Capesius, Maria, and Strader are also seated.
Johannes:
I think those are the final touches now,
And feel that I may call my work complete.
Especial pleasure hath it given me
Thy nature to interpret through mine art.
Capesius:
This picture is a marvel unto me,
But its creator still more wonderful.
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 visitor in that community,
In which thou didst attain thine excellence.
A man of sad demeanour wast thou then,
Witness each glance and aspect of thy face.
Once did I hear a lecture in thy group,
And at the end felt urged to add thereto
Words that were wrenched with pain from out my soul.
I spake in such a mood wherein one doth
Think almost always of oneself alone;
And none the less my gaze did ever rest
Upon that painter, whelmed 'neath sorrow's load,
Who sat and kept still silence, far apart.
Silent he pondered in a fashion strange,
And one might well believe that he heard not
A single word of all those spoken near.
The sorrow unto which he gave himself
Seemed of itself to have a separate life;
It seemed as though the man himself heard not,
But rather that his very grief had ears:
It is perhaps not inappropriate
To say he was by sorrow quite obsessed.
Soon after that day did we meet again,
And even then there was a change in thee;
For happiness did beam forth from thine eyes;
Within thy nature power did dwell again,
And noble fire did ring in all thy words.
Thou, didst express a wish to me that day
Which seemed to me most strange and curious—
To be my pupil didst thou then desire.
of a truth thou hast throughout these years
With utmost diligence absorbed thyself
In all I had to say on world events.
And, as we grew more intimate, I then
Did know the riddle of thine artist life,
And each new picture proved a fresh surprise.
My thought in former days was ill-inclined
To soar to worlds beyond the life of sense—
Not that I doubted them—but yet it seemed
Presumptuous to draw near with eager mind.
But now I must admit that thou 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 works but what thou hast first seen
In spirit worlds: indeed thy works do show
How spirit stands revealed in actual life.
Strader:
Never so little have I understood
Thy speech; for surely in all artists' work
The living spirit is thus manifest.
How therefore doth thy friend, Thomasius,
Differ from other masters in his art?
Capesius:
Ne'er have I doubted that the spirit shows
Itself in man, who none the less remains
Unconscious of its nature. He creates
Through this same spirit, but perceives it not.
Thomasius however doth create
In worlds of sense what he in spirit-realms
Can consciously behold; and many times
Hath he assured me, that, for men like him,
No other method of creation serves.
Strader:
Thomasius is a marvel unto me,
And freely I admit this picture here
Hath first revealed to me in his true self
Capesius, whom I thought I knew full well.
In thought I knew him; but this 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 whoso'er
Doth to the spirit wholly give himself
Will consciously be guided by its power.
The spirit power creates in artists' souls,
E'en as it works within the trees and stones:
Yet is the tree not conscious of itself.
And only he, who sees it from without,
Can recognize the spirit's work therein.
So too each artist lives within his work
And not in spiritual experience.
But when mine eyes now on this picture fall,
I do forget all that allures to thought;
The very soul-force of my friend doth gleam
From out those eyes, and yet—they are but paint!
The seeker's thoughtfulness dwells on that brow;
And e'en his noble warmth of words doth stream
From all the colour-tones with which thy brush
Hath solved the mystery of portraiture.
Ah, these same colours, surely they are flat!
And yet they are not; they seem visible
Only to vanish straightway from my sight.
The moulding too doth seem like colour's work
And yet it tells of spirit intertwined
In every line, and many things besides,
That are not of itself.—Where then is that
Whereof it speaks? Not on the canvas there,
Where only spirit-barren colours lie.
Is it then in Capesius himself?
But why can I perceive it not in him?
Thomasius, thou hast so painted here
That what is painted doth destroy itself,
The moment that the eye would fathom it.
I cannot grasp whereto it urgeth me.
What must I grasp from it? What should I seek?
I fain would pierce this canvas through and through
To find what I must seek within its depths;
To find where I may grasp all that which streams
From this same picture into my soul's core.
I must attain it.—Oh—deluded fool!
It seems as though some ghost were haunting me,
A ghost I cannot see, nor have I power
Which doth enable me to focus it.
Thou dost paint ghostly things, Thomasius,
Ensnaring them by magic in thy work.
They do allure us on to seek for them,
And yet they never let themselves be found.
Oh—how I suffer from your pictures!
Capesius:
My friend, in this same moment hast thou lost
The thinker's peace of mind. Consider now,
If from this picture some ghost speaks to thee
Then I myself must surely ghostly be.
Strader:
Forgive me, friend, 'twas weakness on my part.
Capesius:
Ah, speak but good, not evil, of this hour!
For though thou seemed'st to have lost thyself,
Yet in reality thou wast upraised
Far, far above thyself; and thou didst feel,
Even as I myself full oft have felt.
At such times, howsoe'er one feels oneself
Strong-armoured at all points with logic's might,
One can but be convinced that one is seized
By some strange power that can have origin
Not in sense-knowledge or sense-reasoning.
Who hath endowed this picture with such power?
To me it seems the symbol in sense-life
Of soul-experiences gained thereby.
It hath taught me to recognize my soul,
As never heretofore seemed possible;
And most convincing this self-knowledge proved.
Thomasius did search me through and through:
For unto him was given power to pierce
Through sense-appearance unto spirit-self.
With his developed sight he penetrates
To spirit verity; and thus for me
Those ancient words of wisdom: ‘Know thyself,’
In new light do appear. To know ourselves
E'en as we are, we must first find that power
Within ourselves, which, as true spirit, doth
Conceal itself from us in our own selves.
Maria:
We must, to find ourselves, that power unfold
Which can pierce through into our very souls:
And truly do these words of wisdom speak—
Unfold thyself and thou shalt find thyself.
Strader:
If we admit now, that Thomasius
Hath through the unfolding of his spirit power,
Attained to knowledge of that entity,
That dwells, invisible, within thy soul,
Then must we say that on each plane of life
Knowledge doth differ.
Capesius:
So would I maintain.
Strader:
If matters thus do stand, then is all thought
Nothing all learning but illusory;
And every moment I must lose myself.
Oh, do leave me alone. ...
(Exit.)
Capesius:
I'll go with him.
(Exit.)
Maria:
Capesius is nearer far to-day
To spirit lore, then 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.
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-discarding being
With my soul's vision, yet I did perceive
Within his nature that which could not rise
From his surroundings as they are to-day.
Thus in the picture I could reproduce,
What dwells within the basis of his soul.
My brush was guided by the powers, which he
Unfolded in his former lives on earth.
If thus I have revealed his inmost self,
My picture will have served the aim, which I
Did purpose for it in my thought: for as
A work of art I do not rate it high.
Maria:
It will confirm its work within that soul
To whom it showed the path to spirit-realms.
Curtain falls whilst Maria and Johannes are still in the room
Achtes Bild
(Dasselbe Zimmer wie für das erste Bild.)
Johannes (an einer Staffelei, an der auch Capesius und Maria sitzen):
Dies waren wohl die letzten Striche;
Beendet darf ich meine Arbeit nennen.
Es war mir ganz besonders lieb,
Daß ich gerade eure Wesenheit
Durch meine Kunst erforschen durfte.
Capesius:
Dies Bild ist mir ein Wunder wahrlich.
Und ein noch größ’res
Ist mir sein Schöpfer.
Die Wandlung, die in Euch geschehn,
Es kann ihr nichts verglichen werden,
Was Menschen meiner Art
Bisher für möglich hielten.
Man kann sie dann nur glauben,
Wenn Augenschein den Glauben fordert.
Ich sah zuerst Euch vor drei Jahren.
Ich durfte damals jenen Kreis betreten,
In welchem Ihr zu Eurer Höhe Euch erhobet.
Ein sorgenvoller Mensch wart Ihr zu jener Zeit;
Ein jeder Blick in Euer Antlitz zeigte dies.
Ich hatte eine Rede in Eurem Kreise angehört
Und mußte Worte an sie schließen,
Die sich nur schwer mir aus der Seele rangen.
Ich sprach in einer solchen Stimmung,
In der man sonst an sich nur denkt.
Mein Blick war dennoch stets gerichtet
Nach jenem leidbeladnen Maler,
Der in der Ecke saß und schwieg.
Doch schwieg und sann er
In einer ganz absonderlichen Art.
Man konnte von ihm selbst wohl glauben,
Daß er nicht eins der Worte hörte,
Die neben ihm gesprochen wurden.
Es schien der Kummer, dem er hingegeben,
Ein Leben für sich selbst zu haben.
Es war, als ob der Mensch nicht hörte,
Als ob vielmehr der Kummer selbst Gehör besäße.
Vielleicht wär’s unzutreffend nicht,
Zu sagen, daß er ganz besessen von dem Kummer.
Ich traf Euch bald nach jenem Tage wieder;
Und da schon wart Ihr wie verwandelt.
Es strahlte Seligkeit aus Euren Augen,
Es lebt’ in Eurem Wesen Kraft;
Und edles Feuer klang aus Euren Worten.
Ihr sprachet damals einen Wunsch mir aus,
Der mir recht wunderlich erschien.
Ihr wolltet Schüler von mir werden.
Und wirklich habt Ihr auch drei Jahre lang
Mit Eifer Euch vertieft in alles,
Was ich zu sagen habe von dem Weltverlauf. ‒
Da wir uns immer näher traten,
Erlebte ich das Rätsel Eures Künstlertums.
Und jedes Eurer Bilder war ein neues Wunder.
(Strader ist unterdessen eingetreten.)
Mein Denken hatte früher wenig Neigung,
In sinnentrückte Welten sich zu heben.
Sie zu bezweifeln lag mir fern.
Sich ihnen forschend nahn,
Das galt mir als Vermessenheit.
Und jetzt muß ich bekennen,
Daß Ihr zu andrer Meinung mich gebracht.
Ich höre oft Euch wiederholen,
Daß Ihr die Künstlerschaft
Allein der Gabe dankt,
Bewußt in andren Welten zu empfinden,
Und daß Ihr nichts
In Eure Werke legen könnt,
Was Ihr nicht erst im Geist erschaut.
Ich seh’ an Euren Werken, wie der Geist
Sich wirksam offenbart.
Strader:
Noch nie verstand ich Euch so wenig.
Es hat doch so in jedem Künstler
Lebendig sich der Geist erwiesen,
Was unterscheidet denn
Thomasius von andern Meistern?
Capesius:
Ich habe nie bezweifelt,
Daß Geist im Menschen wirksam sich erzeigt;
Doch bleibt ihm sonst
Des Geistes Wesen unbewußt.
Er schafft aus einem Geiste,
Doch er versteht ihn nicht.
Thomasius jedoch erschafft im Sinnensein,
Was er bewußt im Geiste schauen kann.
Und er gestand mir immer wieder,
Daß seiner Art kein andres Schaffen möglich ist.
Strader:
Mir ist Thomasius bewundernswert;
Und ich gestehe frei,
Daß mir in seinem Bilde
Capesius, den ich zu kennen glaubte,
Erst wirklich ganz sich offenbart.
Ich glaubte ihn zu kennen;
Das Kunstwerk zeigt mir klar,
Wie wenig ich gewußt von ihm.
Maria:
Wie könnt Ihr, lieber Doktor,
Des Werkes Größe so bewundern
Und doch der Größe Quelle leugnen?
Strader:
Was hat Bewundrung,
Die ich dem Künstler zolle,
Mit Glauben an sein Geistesschaun zu tun?
Maria:
Man kann dem Werke Beifall zollen,
Auch wenn der Glaube an die Quelle fehlt.
Doch könnte man in diesem Falle nichts bewundern,
Wenn dieser Künstler nicht den Weg beschritten,
Der ihn zum Geiste hat geführt.
Strader:
Man sollte doch nicht sagen,
Sich hinzugeben an den Geist, es sei
Erkennend ihn durchdringen.
Es schafft im Künstler Geisteskraft,
Wie sie im Baume oder Steine schafft.
Erkennen aber kann sich nicht der Baum,
Es kann dies nur, wer ihn betrachtet.
Der Künstler lebt in seinem Werk,
Und nicht in Geisterfahrung.
Doch wenn zu Eurem Bilde jetzt
Mein Blick sich wendet,
Vergeß ich alles, was den Denker lockt.
Es leuchtet meines Freundes Seelenkraft
Aus diesen Augen, die gemalt doch sind.
Es lebt des Forschers Sinnigkeit
Auf dieser Stirn;
Und seiner Worte edle Wärme,
Sie strahlt aus allen Farbentönen,
Durch welche Euer Pinsel
Dies Rätsel löste.
O diese Farben, sie sind flächenhaft
Und sind es nicht,
Es ist, als ob sie sichtbar seien nur,
Um sich unsichtbar mir zu machen.
Und diese Formen,
Die als der Farbe Werk erscheinen,
Sie sprechen von dem Geistesweben,
Von vielem sprechen sie,
Was sie nicht selber sind.
Wo ist, wovon sie sprechen?
Nicht auf der Leinwand kann es sein;
Denn da sind geistentblösste Farben.
So ist es in Capesius ?
Warum kann ich es nicht an ihm erschauen?
Thomasius, Ihr habt gemalt,
Daß dies Gemalte sich durch sich
Im Augenblick vernichtet,
Sobald der Blick es fassen will.
Ich kann es nicht begreifen,
Wozu dies Bild mich treibt.
Was will von mir ergriffen sein?
Was soll ich suchen?
Die Leinwand, ich möchte sie durchstoßen,
Zu finden, was ich suchen soll.
Wo fass ich, was dies Bild
In meine Seele strahlt?
Ich muß es haben.
O, ich betörter Mann.
Es ist, als ob Gespenster mich berückten!
Ein unsichtbar Gespenst;
Und meine Ohnmacht,
Die kann es nicht erblicken.
Thomasius, Ihr malt Gespenster,
Ihr zaubert sie in eure Bilder;
Sie locken, sie zu suchen,
Und lassen sich nicht finden.
‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ O, wie sind eure Bilder grausam!
Capesius:
Mein Freund, in diesem Augenblick
Habt Ihr des Denkers Ruhe ganz verloren.
Bedenkt doch nur, wenn ein Gespenst
Aus diesem Bilde spräche,
Gespenstig müsste ich doch sein.
Strader:
Verzeiht, o Freund,
Es war nur Schwäche. ...
Capesius:
O, sprechet Gutes nur
Von diesem Augenblick!
Als ob Ihr Euch verloren hättet,
So schien es. Doch Ihr wart
Emporgehoben über Euer Selbst.
Ergangen ist es Euch wie mir recht oft.
Man mag in solchen Zeiten noch so stark
Mit seinem Denken sich gerüstet fühlen,
Man hat sich doch nur selbst bewiesen,
Daß man von einer Macht ergriffen ist,
Die nicht in Sinneswissen und Vernunft
Den Ursprung haben kann.
Wer hat dem Bilde solche Macht gesellt?
Ich möcht’ für mich es Sinnbild nennen,
Was an dem Bilde ich erlebt,
Es lehrte mich erkennen meine Seele,
Wie ich vorher es nicht vermocht.
Und überzeugend war die Selbsterkenntnis.
Johannes Thomasius erforschte mich,
Weil er die Kraft besitzt,
Durch Sinnenschein zum Geistesselbst
Durch sein besondres Schauen
Im Geist hindurchzudringen.
So seh ich jenes alte Weisheitwort
»Erkenne dich« in einem neuen Licht.
Man muß, um zu erkennen, was man ist,
In sich die Kraft erst finden,
Die als ein wahrer Geist
Sich vor uns selbst verbergen kann.
Maria:
Man muß, um sich zu finden,
Die Kraft entfalten erst,
Die in das eigne Wesen dringen kann,
In Wahrheit sagt das Weisheitwort:
Entwickle dich, um dich zu schaun.
Strader:
Wenn man Thomasius wollt’ zugestehn,
Er habe durch die Geistentfaltung
Erkenntnis sich erworben von dem Wesen,
Das unsichtbar in Euch besteht,
So sagt man damit doch,
Erkenntnis sei auf jeder Lebensstufe anders.
Capesius:
Das eben möchte ich behaupten.
Strader:
Wenn so die Sache stünde,
Dann wäre alles Denken nichtig
Und Wissen nur ein Wahngebilde.
Verlieren müsst’ ich mich in jedem Augenblick.
O lasset mich allein.
Capesius:
Ich werde ihn begleiten. (ab)
Maria:
Es ist Capesius dem Geisteswissen
Viel näher, als er selber meint.
Und Strader leidet schwer.
Es kann sein Geist nicht finden,
Was seine Seele heiß ersehnt.
Johannes:
Es stand vor meinem Geistesauge
Der beiden Männer Wesenheit,
Schon als ich machen durfte
Den ersten Schritt ins Seelenreich.
Ich sah Capesius als jungen Mann
Und Strader in den Jahren,
Die er noch lange nicht erreicht.
Und jener zeigte eine Jugendblüte,
Die viel verbirgt, was dieses Leben
Im Sinnensein nicht reifen lässt.
Es trieb mich hin zu seiner Wesenheit.
Ich konnt’ zuerst bei seinem Seelenwesen
In eines Menschen Wesenskern erschauen,
Wie Eigenschaften dieses Lebens
Sich durch sich selbst als Folgen
Bezeugen eines andern Erdenseins.
Ich sah die Kämpfe, die er durchgekämpft,
Und die aus andren Leben ihm gebildet haben
Sein gegenwärt’ges Sein.
Und konnt’ ich auch sein abgelegtes Sein
Noch nicht vor meine Seele stellen:
So sah ich doch in seiner Eigenart,
Was aus der Gegenwart nicht stammen kann.
So konnte ich im Bilde wiedergeben,
Was ihm im Seelengrunde waltet.
Mein Pinsel ward geführt
Von Kräften, die Capesius entfaltet
Aus frühern Erdenleben.
Und hab ich so enthüllt ihm seine Eigenheit,
So hat mein Bild den Dienst getan,
Den ich ihm zugedacht.
Als Kunstwerk schätze ich es gar nicht hoch.
Maria:
Es wird in jener Seele weiter wirken,
Der es den Weg ins Geistgebiet gewiesen hat.
(Der Vorhang fällt, während Maria und Johannes noch im Zimmer sind.)
Scene Eight
(Same room as for the first picture.)
Johannes (at an easel, where Capesius and Maria are also sitting):
These were probably the last strokes;
I can now call my work finished.
It was particularly dear to me
That I was able to explore your essence
Through my art.
Capesius:
This picture is truly a miracle to me.
And an even greater one
is its creator.
The transformation that has taken place in you
cannot be compared to anything
that people of my kind
have hitherto considered possible.
One can only believe it
when one's own eyes demand belief.
I first saw you three years ago.
At that time, I was allowed to enter that circle,
In which you rose to your height.
You were a troubled man at that time;
Every glance at your face showed this.
I had listened to a speech in your circle
And had to add words to it,
Which were difficult for me to wrest from my soul.
I spoke in such a mood,
In which one usually only thinks of oneself.
Nevertheless, my gaze was always directed
Towards that sorrowful painter,
Who sat in the corner and remained silent.
But he was silent and pensive
In a very peculiar way.
One could well believe of him
That he did not hear a single word
That was spoken beside him.
It seemed that the grief to which he was devoted
Had a life of its own.
It was as if the man did not hear,
As if grief itself had ears.
Perhaps it would not be inaccurate
To say that he was completely possessed by grief.
I met you again soon after that day;
And already you were transformed.
Your eyes radiated bliss,
Your being was alive with energy;
And noble fire rang out in your words.
You expressed a wish to me then,
Which seemed quite strange to me.
You wanted to become my student.
And indeed, for three years,
You eagerly immersed yourself in everything
I have to say about the course of the world. ‒
As we grew closer and closer,
I experienced the mystery of your artistry.
And each of your paintings was a new wonder.
(Strader has now entered.)
My thinking had previously had little inclination
To rise into worlds of meaning.
It was far from me to doubt them.
To approach them inquisitively
I considered that presumptuous.
And now I must confess
That you have brought me to a different opinion.
I often hear you repeat
That you owe your artistry
Solely to the gift
Of consciously perceiving other worlds,
And that you can put nothing
can put into your works
that you have not first seen in your mind.
I see in your works how the mind
reveals itself effectively.
Strader:
I have never understood you so little.
Yet in every artist
the mind has proven itself to be alive,
What distinguishes Thomasius
from other masters?
Capesius:
I have never doubted
that spirit manifests itself effectively in humans;
but otherwise
the nature of spirit remains unconscious to them.
They create from a spirit
But he does not understand it.
Thomasius, however, creates in his mind,
What he can consciously see in his spirit.
And he confessed to me again and again,
That no other kind of creation is possible for him.
Strader:
I admire Thomasius;
And I freely admit
That in his image
Capesius, whom I thought I knew,
Only now truly reveals himself to me.
I thought I knew him;
The work of art shows me clearly
How little I knew about him.
Maria:
How can you, dear Doctor,
Admire the greatness of the work so much
And yet deny the source of its greatness?
Strader:
What does admiration,
Which I pay to the artist,
Have to do with belief in his spiritual vision?
Maria:
One can applaud the work,
Even if one lacks faith in its source.
But in this case, there would be nothing to admire,
If this artist had not walked the path
That led him to the spirit.
Strader:
One should not say,
Surrendering to the spirit, it is
Recognizing it, penetrating it.
It creates spiritual power in the artist,
As it creates in trees or stones.
But the tree cannot recognize itself,
Only those who observe it can do so.
The artist lives in his work,
And not in spiritual experience.
But when I now turn my gaze to your painting,
I forget everything that entices the thinker.
The power of my friend's soul shines
from these eyes, which are painted, yet real.
The researcher's sensibility lives
on this forehead;
and the noble warmth of his words
Shines from all shades of color,
Through which your brush
Solved this mystery.
Oh, these colors, they are flat
And yet they are not,
It is as if they are only visible
To make themselves invisible to me.
And these forms,
Which appear as the work of color,
They speak of the workings of the mind,
They speak of many things,
Which they themselves are not.
Where is what they speak of?
It cannot be on the canvas;
For there are colors devoid of spirit.
Is it so in Capesius?
Why can I not see it in him?
Thomasius, you have painted,
That this painting destroys itself
In the moment,
As soon as the gaze wants to grasp it.
I cannot understand,
What this picture drives me to.
What wants to be grasped by me?
What should I seek?
The canvas, I want to pierce it,
To find what I should seek.
Where do I grasp what this image
Radiates into my soul?
I must have it.
Oh, I am a deluded man.
It is as if ghosts have bewitched me!
An invisible ghost;
And my powerlessness,
Which cannot see it.
Thomasius, you paint ghosts,
You conjure them into your paintings;
They entice you to search for them,
And yet they cannot be found.
‒ ‒ ‒ ‒ Oh, how cruel your paintings are!
Capesius:
My friend, at this moment
You have completely lost your thinker's calm.
Just consider, if a ghost
Spoke from this picture,
I would have to be ghostly.
Strader:
Forgive me, oh friend,
it was only weakness. ...
Capesius:
Oh, speak only good
of this moment!
As if you had lost yourself,
so it seemed. But you were
raised above yourself.
It has happened to you as it has often happened to me.
No matter how strong one may feel
Armed with one's thoughts in such times,
One has only proven to oneself
That one is seized by a power
That cannot have its origin
In sensory knowledge and reason.
Who has given the image such power?
I would like to call it a symbol for myself,
What I experienced in the image,
It taught me to recognize my soul,
As I had not been able to before.
And the self-knowledge was convincing.
Johannes Thomasius explored me,
Because he has the power
Through the light of the senses to the spirit itself
Through his special vision
To penetrate the spirit.
So I see that old word of wisdom
“Know thyself” in a new light.
In order to recognize what one is,
One must first find within oneself the power
That, as a true spirit,
Can hide itself from us.
Maria:
In order to find oneself,
One must first develop the power
That can penetrate one's own being.
In truth, the wise saying says:
Develop yourself in order to see yourself.
Strader:
If one were to concede to Thomasius
That through the unfolding of the spirit
He has acquired knowledge of the essence
That exists invisibly within you,
One would still be saying
That knowledge is different at every stage of life.
Capesius:
That is precisely what I would like to assert.
Strader:
If that were the case,
Then all thinking would be futile
And knowledge only a delusion.
I would lose myself at every moment.
Oh, leave me alone.
Capesius:
I will accompany him. (exit)
Maria:
Capesius is much closer to spiritual knowledge
than he himself realizes.
And Strader suffers greatly.
His spirit cannot find
what his soul so ardently desires.
John:
It stood before my mind's eye
The essence of both men,
Even when I was allowed to take
The first step into the realm of the soul.
I saw Capesius as a young man
And Strader in the years
He has not yet reached.
And the latter showed a youthful bloom,
Which hides much that this life
Does not allow to mature in the senses.
It drew me to his essence.
At first, I could see in his soul
The core of a human being's essence,
How the characteristics of this life
Bear witness through themselves as consequences
Of another earthly existence.
I saw the struggles he had fought through,
And which had formed him from other lives
Into his present being.
And even though I could not yet
Place his past being before my soul:
I still saw in his character
What cannot originate from the present.
So I was able to reproduce in the picture
What reigns in the depths of his soul.
My brush was guided
By forces that Capesius developed
From earlier earthly lives.
And when I thus revealed his uniqueness to him,
My picture served the purpose
I intended it to do.
As a work of art, I do not value it highly at all.
Maria:
It will continue to have an effect on that soul,
which has shown it the way to the spiritual realm.
(The curtain falls while Maria and Johannes are still in the room.)