The Apprentice
By Franz Hartmann, M. D.[i]
Translation from German by P. P. L.[ii]
Collated and reformatted by Robert Hutwohl
An apprentice stonemason, working on a temple, struggles with his desire for individual expression in his work. His fellow craftsman explains that the temple’s plan is unalterable and only work that fits into it is accepted. The apprentice eventually learns to submit to the Master’s plan, removing his own embellishments and finding fulfilment in contributing to the greater whole. Robert Hutwohl
FOR a long time I had been working as an apprentice by the Temple which was being built. No one praised me, however hard I worked; on the contrary, a fellow-craftsman was given me who, in my off-hours from work, should instruct me further in the craft.
I went to him to his shed, and saw, not far off, a stone lying on the grass, the artistic decoration of which drew my attention. I pointed it out to my companion and asked why it lay so neglected there. “The stone,” he said, “is an artistic work, but it does not fit into the plan of the building.” I was surprised at his answer. He continued: “Here is a warrior, there, a woman; further to the left, a woman with a flute; then under that, a figure of Narcissus looking at himself; there above, a ruler whose slaves are bringing him incense, and round all these pictures is a garland of laurels. A craftsman had industriously carried out this piece of work and he had hoped for a reward; but when the Master came with square and compass to measure the stone, he put it on one side.”
I expressed my astonishment. The industry and good will of the craftsman had deserved some consideration, I thought. He pointed to the work-shed and said earnestly: “If every craftsman were to work as he chose would one stone fit into another? The rule is given for length, breadth and width; whoever does not work according to it, works for himself and not for the Temple. Obedience is the duty of the craftsman and apprentice. They lack knowledge of the law, the fulfilment of which can alone bring reward. But here comes the Overseer; I must return to my work; if you like, you can accompany me.”
He led me to a finished stone, the simple ornamentation of which showed that it did not exist for itself but that it must be joined to others. I gave him my opinion upon the want of individual expression, whereupon be answered shortly: “The plan of the Master wants such work.”
The Overseer now drew near; he looked at the stone upon which my companion had been working, and began with ruler, square and compass to measure it on all sides. At last, he spoke: “Proportions true! Everywhere after the measure of the Master! With care and industry carried out! No break, no flaw! Bring this to the Master’s hut; the Master himself will put a sign upon it which will give your work real worth. You have worked with love and zeal for the whole; it is the Master’s wish that you should have a wider field of activity.”
He went. The fellow-craftsman’s eyes glistened. I stood perplexed. At last he turned to me with these words: “I have not deserved what he will give me; it was my joy to obey him; he is too indulgent, too kind! May this scene give you courage and fervor.”
He saw my confusion and went on: “Oh, do not despair! He who earnestly wills can easily attain! Would you show me your work?”
“Not now,” I answered, “another time when I am calmer.” He did not urge the matter further. But I—I was not equal to any right judgment; my innermost being was stirred; I took his hand and cried: “Yet come with me!” I led him to the place where my stone lay. As he saw it from the distance he exclaimed: “Why, you have done nothing to it.” “Come and see!” I added. In a few minutes we stood before the stone.
Sadly he looked at my work. He seemed undecided whether he would speak to me about it or just go away. “Do you see now,” I said, “how much I have worked?”
“I see, “he answered quietly; “all are seeking; all think they are doing right; in the beginning they make mistakes; happy are they who attain to knowledge.”
“Oh, you want to console me over my blindness, my obstinacy my pride, my lost time.”
“He who has the courage to make amends, has lost nothing,” was the answer he gave me.
He now looked at the stone on all sides. It was splendidly formed. Its hewn masses were so big that each seemed to build a single stone in the form of a pyramid projecting from one point. I could not make up my mind to do away with these pyramids, and I would try to bring them as near as possible into a rectangular form.
Each hewn mass had cost me so much trouble. Wherever there was room I had placed designs: music here, poetry there; here a house and there a temple; a group of children surrounding father and mother; social mirth, victorious battlefields, state reforms; in short every imaginable important event in the life of a man. “You have done a great deal,” said he.
“But what will my labor bring me?” I asked.
“The knowledge that you can work,” was his answer.
“Have you the courage to listen to good advice?” he asked. I nodded my head. Then he continued: “I have never been in the Master’s shed, therefore I cannot explain to you the plan of the building on which we are working, but what I have heard makes me conclude that the plan is constructed with the greatest wisdom, and even if it should take myriads of centuries to complete, not one single line would be altered. It is not the same with this building as with others; the plan does not depend upon the place, the materials, the means of the builder, and a thousand other minor things. Neither does it happen that during the building plan is altered. The plan of our Temple is unalterable, and only the work that fits into it is accepted. The plans of men are diversity; the plan of our building is unity. When this noble Temple is finished, its infinite extent will be the expression of our thought only—yes, I might say of a single idea. Now you can explain to yourself why that stone which you have seen has been put on one side, and you can also learn what you have to do with your stone.”
He pressed my hand and went.
For a long time I remained full of grief, looking on the ground, before I could tear myself from the place.
The following day I went to see my stone, and was full of suppressed satisfaction over its beauty. At last I cried out: “Shall this work too be in vain! In vain all this effort! To no purpose the refinement of my talents! Were these splendid capabilities given to man for nothing! Yet, for whom have I worked? For whom have I used my gift? For luxury, for blind wealth, which are farther from the truth than I am, for self-interest, for my own plan.”
I was silent, and I heard like distant thunder a voice within: “What is of no use in the Master’s plan will be thrust out.”
Quickly I took my tools and I did not rest till the largest of the ornamentations had been hewn off. As it fell, I felt as if a part of my life had fallen, and I sank down wearily. I could do nothing more that day. The next day I had the same fight and the same work, and so it went on till all the pyramids lay on the ground. Then I stood by the rough blocks of my mutilated stone as if forsaken by the whole world. I cursed my skill, myself, the whole of Nature. I had no peace so long as I saw my beautiful work before me, therefore I left my work-shed. But even then they attracted me. I began to doubt if I should ever get the victory over myself. I decided to destroy them. It was done. In a short time they lay as dust and sand before me. Now I had nothing more to entice me, and I worked almost without feeling on my rough stone. At last when I had made one side smooth, my fellow-craftsman visited me again. He pressed my hand and asked after my work. I took him to the place of the destruction and he embraced me affectionately.
“You have conquered,” he said. “The first step is taken. Go boldly forwards; soon will the Spirit of Peace come to you. “I have, in the meanwhile, been to the Master’s shed. What I told you is the truth—more I cannot say. Be firm! Wisdom is near and will lead you!” He left me.
I continued my work and the pictures of the past little by little grew dimmer, so that I came to the conviction that self-made laws give us no satisfaction, and that only submission to the eternal Law can give freedom.
My stone arrived at a certain completion and was accepted. I went to the craftsman’s shed to give it the prescribed ornamentation, and thereupon I received entrance into the Master’s hut. There I was permitted (though I did not quite understand) to hear the voice of the Master. There I gained the full conviction that only that which fits into the plan is accepted, the other is thrown on one side. Where and how? the Voice is silent.
Eternal Light, lead us! The stone is given us, help us to hew it! The ornamentation which we must engrave upon it is—Love. Only through love is eternal union possible; this feeling alone is the true source of happiness.
Notes:
[i] The Apprentice. Franz Hartmann, M.D., translated by P. P. L. The Adyar Bulletin 3 (May 1910), 146-149 [Collated and reformatted by Robert Hutwohl, ©2026] [Our translator states it was taken from Dr. Hartmann’s Lichtstrahlen vom Orient (Light beams from the Orient), however this does not seem to appear in this journal, his Lotusblüten, based on my comprehensive Index.]
[ii] Translated by P. P. L., from Dr. Hartmann’s Lichtstrahlen vom Orient.