Four Mystery Plays

by Rudolf Steiner

Scene 4

The same room as in Scene 1. Capesius and Strader.

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.

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.

(Aside.)

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

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.

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.

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.

Already I can see the days approach

When we shall both be other than we are.

The curtain falls, leaving them standing opposite one another