Scene X

(The scene is suddenly transformed into that of Scene VIII. Adam again as Kepler with his head leaning upon his writing table. Lucifer as his famulus, standing beside him, taps him on the shoulder. Gray dawn.)

LUCIFER.
This time, there will be no beheading.

ADAM.
Where
Am I, and where, my dreams?

LUCIFER.
They've taken flight,
With thy inebriation, master mine.

ADAM.
So in this sordid age, the hoary head
Save by intoxication's power, can naught
Achieve! What mighty scene before mine eyes
Unrolled! And blind is he who can not see
The spark divine, even beneath its cloak
Of blood and mire. Colossal was the sin
As was the virtue, each one admirable
For power its impress left thereon. Oh! why
Did I awake? That I might look around me
To know still better, this dwarfed age; its sins
Concealed, its virtue hypocritical,
Beneath its smiling lineaments' guise.

LUCIFER.
Well do I know, that feeling of depression
After intoxication following.

EVE (Coming out of the bower.)
Away from me, away! not wrongfully
Did I suspect thee. Dar'st thou speak to me,
My husband's murderer? Think'st capable
Of such foul deeds, her, whom thou lying call'st
Thy heart's ideal?

COURTIER.
For God's sake, dear, be calm!
If overheard, a scandal will ensue.

ADAM.
Were those two women only in my dreams?
What do I say? One woman — in two forms,
As variable as my changeful fate,
Like to the wave, now shimmering, now dark.

EVE.
Ah ! so to thee, is scandal all : To thee,
What brooks the sin, which is in secret done,
Thou blameless knight? Alas! ye look with scorn
Upon a woman, till she throws aside
As prejudice her ancient heritage
Of virtue; then, with your contemptuous smiles,
Ye hold her but the vile tool of your sins.
Away from me! I will not see thee more.

COURTIER.
This also is extreme, making ourselves
Objects of ridicule, if thus we paint
In festal tomes, this ev'ry day affair.
And we shall meet too, even after this.
Whate'er may come of it, no word shall e'er
Be spoken. Good-morning, Madam!

(Exit.)

EVE.
Wretched man!
And here I stand, with all my tears and sin!

(Exit.)

ADAM.
Well, it was but a dream, and all is o'er,
But no, not all ! for daily, stronger grow
Ideas than all matter was before.
Matter can be felled by a forceful blow,
While my ideas live forevermore.
Forever purified, surely, and slow,
Till all the world be filled by their lore.

LUCIFER.
The day advances, fast; impatient now
The crowd of students for the master wait,
To glean the words of wisdom from his lips.

(The bell sounds from the tower.)

ADAM.
Oh! jeer not, jest not, at my learning mean!
For I must blush, if 'tis for this they praise me.
LUCIFER.
Dost not instruct these many splendid youths?

ADAM.
Instruct them, do I not, but only train them
By words they do not understand ; which have
No meaning, and no purport in them : so
Th' unreasoning admire, and credence give.
With these fine words too, spirits we conjure ;
But it is all finesse, the jugglery
To hide.

A STUDENT (Hastens to the podium.)
So gracious wast thou, master, thus
To call me to thee, promising my thirst
For learning thou would'st satisfy, that I
Might gain a deeper insight than all others.

ADAM.
But certainly thy diligence and zeal,
Thee render worthy of this privilege.

STUDENT.
Well, here I am, with trembling soul, I long
Great nature's workshop to investigate;
To grasp it all, enjoy more than the throng;
To gain the well-earned right to dominate
The realm of matter, and the spirit world.

ADAM.
Much thou desir'st. An atom of the world,
Thou think'st to pierce its grand entirety.
Sov'reignty thou wilt, and wisdom too.
If all of this thou could'st achieve, thy soul
Not bend, beneath the weight, thou would'st become
A God. Then less desire; thou may'st attain it.

STUDENT.
Whatever problem then, of science, thou
Dost solve, great man, will be a gain to me.
I feel that nothing do I know.

ADAM.
Tis well then;
Thou art worthy; with thee, I can speak,
Of holy and most hidden things, the truth!
Then see, as I myself; but let there be
No uninitiated listener;
For truth is terrible, and bringeth death,
If it among the people of this age
Should come; but Oh! a time is near; if here
It were! when in the streets, it will be spoken
Free. No longer will the people then
Be children. Give thy hand in token now,
That thou wilt not betray that which thou learn'st
Of me. Well, listen then.

STUDENT.
With awe and longing,
Now I thrill.

ADAM.
What did'st thou say to me
Before, my son?

STUDENT.
That nothing in its essence,
Do I know.

ADAM (Cautiously.)
See now, nor yet do I.
Philosophy is but the poetry
Of that, which we can never grasp, but is
Most harmless of all learning in the world ;
Adorned with her chimeras, quietly,
She entertains herself. But sciences
There are, which with bold front, upon the sands
Do trace their lines, to represent abysses;
And the circle is a sanctuary.
At this comedy, thou could'st e'en laugh
To view the frightful earnestness and art
Of all of it, while everyone with trembling
And with soul oppressed, seeks to avoid
These sketches in the sand, still here and there.
A snare doth wait, and the audacious one
Who falls therein, must pay the price of blood.
Such is th' absurdity, thou see'st, that stands
Now in our path as holy piety
To shield th' established power.

STUDENT.
I comprehend.
But will it always be as now?

ADAM.
A time
Will come, when they will laugh at all those statesmen
Whom we consider great; the orthodox,
Whom we admire, will furnish comedy
For our posterity, when real greatness
Doth occupy his place. 'Twill be the simple,
Natural, which springs, where e'er a pit
Is seen, and makes a path, where space is found;
And the learning, which to madness leads,
With its abstruseness now, by ev'ry one
Will then be understood, though learned by none.

STUDENT.
Then this must be th' elucidating language,
Which the apostles once were wont to speak,
And if all else be mean and worthless plunder,
Oh ! do not take from me, my faith in art,
But in her laws, instruct me.

ADAM.
Art's perfection
Consists in its concealment.

STUDENT.
Can truth then,
Stand alone? For 'tis idealism
That gives the soul to art.

ADAM.
'Tis true, indeed;
With its own spirit, nature must combine
In equal measure, creation to mature;
Without this, 'tis a lifeless mechanism.
But howsoe'er thou may'st idealize,
Think not to overreach great nature's power.
Leave laws and models, for he in whom is strength,
In whom God lives, will speak, will mould, or sing,
With sobs heartrending, when his soul is sad,
With smiles when bliss hath stilled his passion's
storm.
And though a pathway new he will create,
He'll surely reach the goal and form new laws
In the domain of art; but the abstract,
To dwarfs becomes but fetters, never wings.

STUDENT.
Oh! tell me, master, what I now can do,
After so many nights, to learning given?
Am I become like to a fool, and vain
Has all my striving been?

ADAM.
'Tis not in vain.
'Tis this, gives thee the right to overthrow
Each flaw, for he who looks not in the face
Of loss, e'en as he doth advance, is but
A coward; but the tried warrior is free
To step aside from his antagonist;
For of his valor, there can 'rise no doubt.
So to the flames, consign these yellow parchments,
These folios voluminous, with mould
Bedecked; they hinder when one would walk alone;
Of thought too meager, the errors of the past,
In judgment of the future, do they bring.
Then to the flames with them! Out to the fields!
For why of songs and forests should'st thou learn,
Joyless, 'mid dusty walls, till life is done?
Is life so long to thee, that until death
Thou can'st learn theories? Together then,
We'll bid farewell to schools; thou onward led
By roseate youth, to joyous rays of sunshine,
And to singing. Guide, doubtful genius
To that new world, which will unfold, when once
Some great one, its ideals shall divine,
And clothe in speech, the hidden thought that lies
Deep 'neath th' accurs'd dust of fallen ruins.