Thought and feeling are forgotten, only the body lives!

Excerpt of Christ

ZENOBIA

Oh, come to the festivals of my native land; to flower beds in enchanted groves, near shimmering lakes! There, before the sacred shrines of our shadowy gods, wrapt in clouds of incense, men and women dance to the tinkling of cymbals and the wailing of flutes. Bare shoulders and naked breasts glow in the tepid atmosphere, flowing garments are floating in an ocean of light, and myrrh and orange blossoms sink fading to the ground. How the torchlight dwells upon the half-veiled limbs! Louder and louder the music sounds, swifter and swifter the footsteps glide over the glittering sand! Look at those bacchantes! Their dark eyes — what wild desires they express — their trembling nostrils and moist, quivering lips! In emulous ardor every movement tempts with boundless bliss! Thought and feeling are forgotten, only the body lives!

JESHUA

Cease to speak! I will listen no further.

ZENOBIA

Oh, for the days of soft rubescence, ere my free, fresh inflorescence was unmarred by violation’s glow! The nightingales sang softly on sycamore and cypress tree, mild southern winds caressed the blushing rose in all her maiden bashfulness. The odors of the dew-lit chalice stole softly into the silent air of night, and in her burning chastity of passion the flower yielded all her sweet virginity. The leaves fell fading to the ground, and only stem and spine looked up to the blackest sky.

JESHUA

Life is to all a mournful dream.

ZENOBIA

Should I have thrown away the withered wreath which has ornamented my hair, hung my rumpled garment on the thorny hedge and donned a servant’s garb?

JESHUA

I pity you.

ZENOBIA

No, I continue to drink the bacchanalian joys of life! I kindle the evanescent sparks of the hearth to a mighty flame, enrapture and drink enraptures, receive and give, think and feel with the ambitious energy of youth, though spring has left my features and the noonday sun has passed the summit. Follow me to fragrant bowers! The wrinkled garments fall from my limbs, while the languid, half-closed eyes look around in search. You, the lover, sink down at my side.

JESHUA

Temptress, leave me! I can never be yours!

ZENOBIA

Press closer and closer to me! Listen to nature’s voice. It is the expression of our overflowing lives. The forests sound, the waters roar, and in the trembling air the fire flies build their heaven of sparkling light, like fickle stars that crowd the firmament of night.

JESHUA

Let me go! Inordinate love can gain no power over me.

ZENOBIA

Behold me as I am!

[ Rends her garment.]

This godlike form is yours!

***

Black and white archival headshot of Sadakichi Harmann, a biracial Japanese-German man with a moustache, staring intently into the camera.

Sadakichi Hartmann (1867-1944) was a writer, dramatist, and art critic who lived in Japan, Europe, and the US. Christ, a decadent play about Jesus Christ featuring nudity and orgies, was published in 1895.