{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_20264/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_20264","id":"gutenberg_20264","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20264","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Music","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Opera","Operas -- Stories, plots, etc.","Perceval (Legendary character) -- Drama","Wagner, Richard, 1813-1883. Parsifal"],"text":"E-text prepared by David Newman, V. L. Simpson, Chuck Greif, and the\nProject Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n(https://www.pgdp.net/c/)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 20264-h.htm or 20264-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/2/6/20264/20264-h/20264-h.htm)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/2/6/20264/20264-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nPARSIFAL\n\nStory and Analysis of Wagner's Great Opera\n\nby\n\nH. R. HAWEIS\n\nAuthor of \"My Musical Memories,\" \"Music and Morals,\" etc.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: RICHARD WAGNER]\n\n\n[Illustration: Funk and Wagnalls Symbol]\n\n\n\nFunk & Wagnalls Company\nNew York and London\n1905\n\nNOTE--\n\n   This story and analysis of Parsifal was\n   first published as a part of Mr. Haweis'\n   well-known work, \"My Musical Memories.\"\n   The interest it has excited\n   seems to justify its republication at\n   this time in a separate volume.\n\n                      F. & W. Co.\n\nPublished, February, 1904\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                               PAGE\n\n    WAHNFRIED                   5\n\n    PARSIFAL                   10\n\n      ACT I                    18\n\n      ACT II                   41\n\n      ACT III                  55\n\n    WHEN THE CURTAIN FELL      67\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n                                                 FACING\n                                                   PAGE\n    Portrait of Richard Wagner           _Frontispiece_\n\n    Parsifal and Gurnemanz Passing Through\n      the Ravine (Act I)                        30\n\n    The Great Hall of the Holy Grail\n      (Act I)                                   36\n\n    Parsifal Entering the Grail Castle in\n      Triumph (Act III)                         62\n\n\n\n\n\nWAHNFRIED\n\nI visited Bayreuth on the 24th of July, 1883, and attended two crowded\nperformances of Wagner's last work, _Parsifal_. In the morning I went\ninto the beautiful gardens of the Neue Schloss. On either side of a\nlake, upon which float a couple of swans and innumerable water-lilies,\nthe long parklike avenue of trees are vocal with wild doves, and the\nrobin is heard in the adjoining thickets. At my approach the sweet song\nceases abruptly, and the startled bird flies out, scattering the pale\npetals of the wild roses upon my path. I follow a stream of people on\nfoot, as they move down the left-hand avenue in the garden of the Neue\nSchloss, which adjoins Wagner's own grounds.\n\nSome are going--some are coming. Presently I see an opening in the\nbushes on my left; the path leads me to a clump of evergreens. I follow\nit, and come suddenly on the great composer's grave. All about the green\nsquare mound the trees are thick--laurel, fir, and yew. The shades fall\nfunereally across the immense gray granite slab; but over the dark\nfoliage the sky is bright blue, and straight in front of me, above the\nlow bushes, I can see the bow-windows of the dead master's study--where\nI spent with him one delightful evening in 1876.\n\nI can see, too, the jet of water that he loved playing high above the\nhedge of evergreen. It lulls me with its sound. \"Wahnfried! Wahnfried!\"\nit seems to murmur. It was the word written above the master's\nhouse--the word he most loved--the word his tireless spirit most\nbelieved in. How shall I render it? \"Dream-life! dream-life! Earth's\nillusion of joy!\"\n\nGreat spirit! thy dream-life here is past, and, face to face with truth,\n\"rapt from the fickle and the frail,\" for thee the illusion has\nvanished! Mayest thou also know the fulness of joy in the unbroken and\nserene activities of the eternal Reality!\n\nI visited the grave twice. There is nothing written on the granite slab.\nThere were never present less than twenty persons, and a constant\nstream of pilgrims kept coming and going.\n\nOne gentle token of the master's pitiful and tender regard for the\nfaithful dumb animals he so loved lies but a few feet off in the same\ngarden, and not far from his own grave.\n\nUpon a mossy bank, surrounded with evergreens, is a small marble slab,\nwith this inscription to his favorite dog:\n\n\"_Here lies in peace 'Wahnfried's' faithful watcher and friend--the good\nand beautiful Mark_\" (der gute, schoene Mark)!\n\nI returned, too, to Wagner's tomb, plucked a branch of the fir-tree that\nwaved above it, and went back to my room to prepare myself by reading\nand meditation for the great religious drama which I was to witness at\nfour o'clock in the afternoon--Wagner's latest and highest\ninspiration--the story of the sacred brotherhood, the knights of San\nGraal--_Parsifal_!\n\n\n\n\nPARSIFAL\n\n\nThe blood of God!--mystic symbol of divine life--\"for the blood is the\nlife thereof.\" That is the key-note of _Parsifal_, the Knight of the\nSangrail. Wine is the ready symbolical vehicle--the material link\nbetween the divine and the human life. In the old religions, that\nheightened consciousness, that intensity of feeling produced by\nstimulant, was thought to be the very entering in of the \"god\"--the\nunion of the divine and human spirit; and in the Eleusinian mysteries,\nthe \"sesame,\" the bread of Demeter, the earth mother, and the \"kykeon,\"\nor wine of Dionysos, the vine god, were thus sacramental.\n\nThe passionate desire to approach and mingle with Deity is the one\nmystic bond common to all religions in all lands. It is the \"cry of the\nhuman;\" it traverses the ages, it exhausts many symbols and transcends\nall forms.\n\nTo the Christian it is summed up in the \"Lord's Supper.\"\n\nThe medieval legend of the Sangrail (real or royal blood) is the most\npoetic and pathetic form of transubstantiation; in it the gross\nmaterialism of the Roman Mass almost ceases to be repulsive; it\npossesses the true legendary power of attraction and assimilation.\n\nAs the Knights of the Table Round, with their holy vows, provided\nmedieval Chivalry with a center, so did the Lord's table, with its\nSangrail, provide medieval Religion with its central attractive point.\nAnd as all marvelous tales of knightly heroism circled round King\nArthur's table, so did the great legends embodying the Christian\nconceptions of sin, punishment, and redemption circle round the Sangrail\nand the sacrifice of the \"Mass.\"\n\nIn the legends of _Parsifal_ and _Lohengrin_ the knightly and religious\nelements are welded together. This is enough. We need approach\n_Parsifal_ with no deep knowledge of the various Sagas made use of by\nWagner in his drama. His disciples, while most eager to trace its\nvarious elements to their sources, are most emphatic in declaring that\nthe _Parsifal_ drama, so intimately true to the spirit of Roman\nCatholicism, is nevertheless a new creation.\n\nJoseph of Arimathea received in a crystal cup the blood of Christ as it\nflowed from the spear-wound made by the Roman soldier. The cup and the\nspear were committed to Titurel, who became a holy knight and head of a\nsacred brotherhood of knights. They dwelt in the Visigoth Mountains of\nSouthern Spain, where, amid impenetrable forests, rose the legendary\npalace of Montsalvat. Here they guarded the sacred relics, issuing forth\nat times from their palatial fortress, like Lohengrin, to fight for\ninnocence and right, and always returning to renew their youth and\nstrength by the celestial contemplation of the Sangrail, and by\noccasional participation in the holy feast.\n\nTime and history count for very little in these narratives. It was\nallowed, however, that Titurel the Chief had grown extremely aged, but\nit was not allowed that he could die in the presence of the Sangrail. He\nseemed to have been laid in a kind of trance, resting in an open tomb\nbeneath the altar of the Grail; and whenever the cup was uncovered his\nvoice might be heard joining in the celebration. Meanwhile, Amfortas,\nhis son, reigned in his stead.\n\nMontsalvat, with its pure, contemplative, but active brotherhood, and\nits mystic cup, thus stands out as the poetic symbol of all that is\nhighest and best in medieval Christianity.\n\nThe note of the wicked world--Magic for Devotion--Sensuality for\nWorship--breaks in upon our vision, as the scene changes from the Halls\nof Montsalvat to Klingsor's palace. Klingsor, an impure knight, who has\nbeen refused admittance to the order of the \"Sangrail,\" enters into a\ncompact with the powers of evil--by magic acquires arts of diabolical\nfascination--fills his palace and gardens with enchantments, and wages\nbitter war against the holy knights, with a view of corrupting them, and\nultimately, it may be, of acquiring for himself the \"Sangrail,\" in which\nall power is believed to reside. Many knights have already succumbed to\nthe \"insidious arts\" of Klingsor; but the tragical turning-point of the\n_Parsifal_ is that Amfortas, himself the son of Titurel, the official\nguardian of the Grail, in making war upon the magician, took with him\nthe sacred spear, and _lost_ it to Klingsor.\n\nIt came about in this way. A woman of unearthly loveliness won him in\nthe enchanted bowers adjoining the evil knight's palace, and Klingsor,\nseizing the holy spear, thrust it into Amfortas's side, inflicting what\nseemed an incurable wound. The brave knight, Gurnemanz, dragged his\nmaster fainting from the garden, his companions of the Sangrail covering\ntheir retreat. But, returned to Montsalvat, the unhappy king awakes only\nto bewail his sin, the loss of the sacred spear, and the ceaseless\nharrowing smart of an incurable wound. But who is Parsifal?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe smell of pine woods in July! The long avenue outside the city of\nBayreuth, that leads straight up the hill, crowned by the Wagner\nTheater, a noble structure--architecturally admirable--severe, simple,\nbut exactly adapted to its purpose. I join the stream of pilgrims, some\nin carriages, others on foot. As we approach, a clear blast of trombones\nand brass from the terrace in front of the grand entrance plays out the\nGrail \"motive.\" It is the well-known signal--there is no time to be\nlost. I enter at the prescribed door, and find myself close to my\nappointed place. Every one--such is the admirable arrangement--seems to\ndo likewise. In a few minutes about one thousand persons are seated\nwithout confusion. The theater is darkened, the footlights are lowered,\nthe prelude begins.\n\n\n\n\nAct I\n\n\nThe waves of sound rise from the shadowy gulf sunken between the\naudience and the footlights. Upon the sound ocean of \"wind\" the \"Take,\neat,\" or \"Love-feast\" motive floats. Presently the strings pierce\nthrough it, the Spear motive follows, and then, full of heavy pain,\n\"Drink ye all of this,\" followed by the famous Grail motive--an old\nchorale also used by Mendelssohn in the Reformation Symphony. Then comes\nthe noble Faith and Love theme.\n\nAs I sit in the low light, amid the silent throng, and listen, I need no\ninterpreter--I am being placed in possession of the emotional key-notes\nof the drama. Every subject is first distinctly enunciated, and then all\nare wondrously blended together. There is the pain of sacrifice--the\nmental agony, the bodily torture; there are the alternate pauses of\nSorrow and respite from sorrow long drawn out, the sharp ache of Sin,\nthe glimpses of unhallowed Joy, the strain of upward Endeavor, the\nserene peace of Faith and Love, crowned by the blessed Vision of the\nGrail. 'Tis past. The prelude melts into the opening recitative.\n\nThe eyes have now to play their part. The curtain rises, the story\nbegins. The morning breaks slowly, the gray streaks redden, a lovely\nsummer landscape lies bathed in primrose light. Under the shadow of a\nnoble tree, the aged knight. Gurnemanz, has been resting with two young\nattendants. From the neighboring halls of Montsalvat the solemn\n_reveille_--the Grail motive--rings out, and all three sink on their\nknees in prayer. The sun bursts forth in splendor as the hymn rises to\nmingle with the voices of universal nature. The waves of sound well up\nand fill the soul with unspeakable thankfulness and praise.\n\nThe talk is of Amfortas, the king, and of his incurable wound. A wild\ngallop, a rush of sound--and a weird woman, with streaming hair, springs\ntoward the startled group. She bears a phial with rare balsam from the\nArabian shores. It is for the king's wound. Who is the wild horsewoman?\nKundry--strange creation--a being doomed to wander, like the Wandering\nJew, the wild Huntsman, or Flying Dutchman, always seeking a deliverance\nshe can not find--Kundry, who, in ages gone by, met the Savior on the\nroad to Calvary and derided him. Some say she was Herodias's daughter.\nNow filled with remorse, yet weighted with sinful longings, she serves\nby turns the Knights of the Grail, then falls under the spell of\nKlingsor, the evil knight sorcerer, and, in the guise of an enchantress,\nis compelled by him to seduce, if possible, the Knights of the Grail.\n\nEternal symbol of the divided allegiance of a woman's soul! She it was\nwho, under the sensual spell, as an incarnation of loveliness, overcame\nAmfortas, and she it is now who, in her ardent quest for salvation,\nchanged and squalid in appearance, serves the Knights of the Grail, and\nseeks to heal Amfortas's wound!\n\nNo sooner has she delivered her balsam to the faithful Gurnemanz, and\nthrown herself exhausted upon the grass--where she lies gnawing her hair\nmorosely--than a change in the sound atmosphere, which never ceases to\nbe generated in the mystic orchestral gulf, presages the approach of\nAmfortas.\n\nHe comes, borne on a litter, to his morning bath in the shining lake\nhard by. Sharp is the pain of the wound--weary and hopeless is the king.\nThrough the Wound-motive comes the sweet woodland music and the breath\nof the blessed morning, fragrant with flowers and fresh with dew. It is\none of those incomparable bursts of woodland notes, full of bird-song\nand the happy hum of insect life and rustling of netted branches and\nwaving of long tasseled grass. I know of nothing like it save the forest\nmusic in _Siegfried_.\n\nThe sick king listens, and remembers words of hope and comfort that fell\nfrom a heavenly voice, what time the glory of the Grail passed:\n\n    \"Durch Mitleid wissend\n      Der reine Thor,\n    Harre sein\n      Den ich erkor.\"\n\n    [Wait for my chosen one,\n    Guileless and innocent,\n    Pity-enlightened.]\n\nThey hand him the phial of balsam; and presently, while the lovely\nforest music again breaks forth, the king is carried on to his bath, and\nKundry, Gurnemanz, and the two esquires hold the stage.\n\nAs the old knight, who is a complete repertory of facts connected with\nthe Grail tradition, unfolds to the esquires the nature of the king's\nwound, the sorceries of Klingsor, the hope of deliverance from some\nunknown \"guileless one,\" a sudden cry breaks up the situation.\n\nA white swan, pierced by an arrow, flutters dying to the ground. It is\nthe swan beloved of the Grail brotherhood, bird of fair omen, symbol of\nspotless purity. The slayer is brought in between two knights--a\nstalwart youth, fearless, unabashed, while the death-music of the swan,\nthe slow distilling and stiffening of its life-blood, is marvelously\nrendered by the orchestra. Conviction of his fault comes over the youth\nas he listens to the reproaches of Gurnemanz. He hangs his head ashamed\nand penitent, and at last, with a sudden passion of remorse, snaps his\nbow and flings it aside. The swan is borne off, and Parsifal, the\n\"guileless one\" (for he it is), with Gurnemanz and Kundry--who rouses\nherself and surveys Parsifal with strange, almost savage curiosity--hold\nthe stage.\n\nIn this scene Kundry tells the youth more than he cares to hear about\nhimself: how his father, Gamuret, was a great knight killed in battle;\nhow his mother, Herzeleide (Heart's Affliction), fearing a like fate\nfor her son, brought him up in the lonely forest; how he left her to\nfollow a troop of knights that he met one day winding through the forest\nglade, and being led on and on in pursuit of them, never overtook them\nand never returned to his mother, Heart's Affliction, who died of grief.\nAt this point the frantic youth seizes Kundry by the throat in an agony\nof rage and grief, but is held back by Gurnemanz, till, worn out by the\nviolence of his emotion, he faints away, and is gradually revived by\nKundry and Gurnemanz.\n\nSuddenly, Kundry rises with a wild look, like one under a spell. Her\nmood of service is over. She staggers across the stage--she can hardly\nkeep awake. \"Sleep,\" she mutters, \"I must sleep--sleep!\" and falls down\nin one of those long trances which apparently last for months, or years,\nand form the transition periods between her mood of Grail service and\nthe Klingsor slavery into which she must next relapse in spite of\nherself.\n\nAnd is this the guileless one? This wild youth who slays the fair\nswan--who knows not his own name nor whence he comes, nor whither he\ngoes, nor what are his destinies? The old knight eyes him curiously--he\nwill put him to the test. This youth had seen the king pass once--he had\nmarked his pain. Was he \"enlightened by pity\"? Is he the appointed\ndeliverer? The old knight now invites him to the shrine of the Grail.\n\"What is the Grail?\" asks the youth. Truly a guileless, innocent one!\nyet a brave and pure knight, since he has known no evil, and so readily\nrepents of a fault committed in ignorance.\n\nGurnemanz is strangely drawn to him. He shall see the Grail, and in the\nHoly Palace, what time the mystic light streams forth and the assembled\nknights bow themselves in prayer, the voice which comforted Amfortas\nshall speak to his deliverer and bid him arise and heal the king.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nGurnemanz and Parsifal have ceased to speak. They stand in the glowing\nlight of the summer-land. The tide of music rolls on continuously, but\nsounds more strange and dreamy.\n\nIs it a cloud passing over the sky? There seems to be a shuddering in\nthe branches--the light fades upon yonder sunny woodlands--the\nforeground darkens apace. The whole scene is moving, but so slowly that\nit seems to change like a dissolving view. I see the two figures of\nGurnemanz and Parsifal moving through the trees--they are lost behind\nyonder rock. They emerge farther off--higher up. The air grows very dim;\nthe orchestra peals louder and louder. I lose the two in the deepening\ntwilight. The forest is changing, the land is wild and mountainous. Huge\ngalleries and arcades, rock-hewn, loom through the dim forest; but all\nis growing dark. I listen to the murmurs of the \"Grail,\" the \"Spear,\"\nthe \"Pain,\" the \"Love and Faith\" motives--hollow murmurs, confused,\nfloating out of the depths of lonely caves. Then I have a feeling of\nvoid and darkness, and there comes a sighing as of a soul swooning away\nin a trance, and a vision of waste places and wild caverns; and then\nthrough the confused dream I hear the solemn boom of mighty bells, only\nmuffled. They keep time as to some ghastly march. I strain my eyes into\nthe thick gloom before me. Is it a rock, or forest, or palace?\n\nAs the light returns slowly, a hall of more than Alhambralike splendor\nopens before me. My eyes are riveted on the shining pillars of\nvariegated marble, the tessellated pavements, the vaulted roof glowing\nwith gold and color; beyond, arcades of agate columns, bathed in a\nmisty moonlight air, and lost in a bewildering perspective of halls and\ncorridors.\n\n[Illustration: Copyright, 1903, by Pach Bros., N. Y.\n\nPARSIFAL AND GURNEMANZ PASSING THROUGH THE RAVINE]\n\nI hear the falling of distant water in marble fonts; the large bells of\nMontsalvat peal louder and louder, and to music of unimaginable\nstateliness the knights, clad in the blue and red robes of the Grail,\nenter in solemn procession, and take their seats at two semicircular\ntables which start like arms to the right and left of the holy shrine.\nBeneath it lies Titurel entranced, and upon it is presently deposited\nthe sacred treasure of the Grail itself.\n\nAs the wounded King Amfortas is borne in, the assembled knights, each\nstanding in his place, a golden cup before him, intone the Grail motive,\nwhich is taken up by the entering choruses of servitors and esquires\nbearing the holy relics.\n\nGurnemanz is seated among knights; Parsifal stands aside and looks on in\nmute astonishment, \"a guileless one.\"\n\nAs the Holy Grail is set down on the altar before the wounded king, a\nburst of heavenly music streams from the high dome--voices of angels\nintone the celestial phrases, \"_Take, eat_\" and \"_This is my blood!_\"\nand blend them with the \"faith and love\" motives. As the choruses die\naway, the voice of the entranced Titurel is heard from beneath the altar\ncalling upon Amfortas, his son, to uncover the Grail, that he may find\nrefreshment and life in the blessed vision.\n\nThen follows a terrible struggle in the breast of Amfortas. _He_, sore\nstricken in sin, yet Guardian of the Grail, guilty among the guiltless,\noppressed with pain, bowed down with shame, craving for restoration,\noverwhelmed with unworthiness, yet chosen to stand and minister before\nthe Lord on behalf of His saints! Pathetic situation, which must in all\ntimes repeat itself in the history of the Church. The unworthiness of\nthe minister affects not the validity of his consecrated acts. Yet what\nagony of mind must many a priest have suffered, himself oppressed with\nsin and doubt, while dispensing the means of grace, and acting as a\nminister and steward of the mysteries!\n\nThe marvelous piece of self-analysis in which the conscience-stricken\nking bewails his lot as little admits of description here as the music\nwhich embodies his emotion.\n\nAt the close of it angel voices seem floating in midair, sighing the\nmystic words:\n\n    \"Durch Mitleid wissend\n      Der reine Thor,\n    Harre sein\n      Den ich erkor.\"\n\n    [Wait for my chosen one,\n    Guileless and innocent,\n    Pity-enlightened.]\n\nAnd immediately afterward the voice of Titurel, like one turning\nrestlessly in his sleep, comes up from his living tomb beneath the\naltar: \"_Uncover the Grail!_\"\n\nWith trembling hands the sick king raises himself, and with a great\neffort staggers toward the shrine--the covering is removed--he takes\nthe crystal cup--he raises it on high--the blood is dark--the light\nbegins to fade in the hall--a mist and dimness come over the scene--we\nseem to be assisting at a shadowy ceremony in a dream--the big bells are\ntolling--the heavenly choirs from above the dome, which is now bathed in\ntwilight, are heard: \"_Drink ye all of this!_\" Amfortas raises on high\nthe crystal vase--the knights fall on their knees in prayer. Suddenly a\nfaint tremor of light quivers in the crystal cup--then the blood grows\nruby red for a moment. Amfortas waves it to and fro--the knights gaze in\necstatic adoration. Titurel's voice gathers strength in his tomb:\n\n                    \"Celestial rapture:\n    How streams the light upon the face of God!\"\n\nThe light fades slowly out of the crystal cup--the miracle is\naccomplished. The blood again grows dark--the light of common day\nreturns to the halls of Montsalvat, and the knights resume their seats,\nto find each one his golden goblet filled with wine.\n\nDuring the sacred repast which follows, the brotherhood join hands and\nembrace, singing:\n\n    \"Blessed are they that believe;\n    Blessed are they that love!\"\n\nand the refrain is heard again far up in the heights, reechoed by the\nangelic hosts.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration: Copyright, 1903, by Pach Bros., N. Y.\n\nTHE GREAT HALL OF THE HOLY GRAIL]\n\nI looked round upon the silent audience while these astonishing scenes\nwere passing before me; the whole assembly was motionless--all seemed\nto be awed by the august spectacle--seemed almost to share in the devout\ncontemplation and trancelike worship of the holy knights. Every thought\nof the stage had vanished--nothing was further from my own thoughts than\nplay-acting. I was sitting as I should sit at an oratorio, in devout and\nrapt contemplation. Before my eyes had passed a symbolic vision of\nprayer and ecstasy, flooding the soul with overpowering thoughts of the\ndivine sacrifice and the mystery of unfathomable love.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe hall of Montsalvat empties. Gurnemanz strides excitedly up to\nParsifal, who stands stupefied with what he has seen--\n\n    \"Why standest thou silent?\n    Knowest thou what thine eyes have seen?\"\n\nThe \"guileless one\" shakes his head. \"Nothing but a fool!\" exclaims\nGurnemanz, angrily; and, seizing Parsifal by the shoulder, he pushes him\nroughly out of the hall, with:\n\n    \"Be off! look after thy geese,\n    And henceforth leave our swans in peace.\"\n\nThe Grail vision had, then, taught the \"guileless one\" nothing. He could\nnot see his mission--he was as yet unawakened to the deeper life of the\nspirit; tho blameless and unsullied, he was still the \"natural man.\"\nProfound truth! that was not first which was spiritual, but that which\nwas natural; before Parsifal wins a spiritual triumph, he must be\nspiritually tried; his inner life must be deepened and developed, else\nhe can never read aright the message of the Grail.\n\nThe life of God in the spirit comes only when the battle for God in the\nheart has been fought and won.\n\nFare forth, thou guileless one! thou shalt yet add to the simplicity of\nthe dove the wisdom of the serpent. Thou art innocent because ignorant;\nbut thou shalt be weighed anon in the balance and not be found wanting;\nand then shalt thou reconquer the holy spear lost in Sin, rewon in\nPurity and Sacrifice, and be to the frail Amfortas the chosen savior for\nwhom he waits.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe foregoing events occupied about an hour and a quarter. When the\ncurtain fell the vast audience broke up in silence.\n\nThe air outside was cool and balmy. In the distance lay the city of\nBayreuth, with the tower of the Alte Schloss and the old church standing\nup gray against the distant Bavarian hills. All around us lay the pine\nwoods, broken by the lawns and avenues that encircle the theater and\nembower it in a secluded world of its own--even as the Palace of the\nGrail was shut off from the profane world. Here, indeed, is truly the\nMontsalvat of the modern drama--a spot purified and sacred to the\nhighest aims and noblest manifestations of Art.\n\nIn about an hour the Spear motive was the signal blown on the wind\ninstruments outside, and I took my seat for the second act.\n\n\n\n\nAct II\n\n\nA restless, passion-tossed prelude. The \"Grail\" subject distorted, the\n\"Spear\" motive thrust in discordant, the \"Faith and Love\" theme\nfluttering like a wounded dove in pain, fierce bursts of passion, wild\nshocks of uncontrolled misery, mingling with the \"carnal joy\" music of\nKlingsor's magic garden and the shuddering might of his alchemy.\n\nThe great magician, Klingsor, is seen alone in his dungeon palace--harsh\ncontrast to the gorgeous halls of Montsalvat. Here all is built of the\nlive rock, an impenetrable fastness, the home of devilish might and\nterrible spells.\n\nKlingsor is aware of the coming struggle, and he means to be ready for\nit. He owns the sacred spear wrested from Amfortis; he even aspires to\nwin the Grail; he knows the \"guileless one\" is on his way to wrest that\nspear from him. His only hope is in paralyzing the fool by his\nenchantments as he paralyzed Amfortis, and the same woman will serve his\nturn.\n\n\"Kundry!\" The time is come, the spells are woven--blue vapors rise, and\nin the midst of the blue vapors the figure of the still sleeping Kundry\nis seen. She wakes, trembling violently; she knows she is again under\nthe spell she abhors--the spell to do evil, the mission to corrupt.\nWith a shuddering scream she stands before her tormentor, denying his\npower, loathing to return to her vile mission, yet returning, as with a\nbitter cry she vanishes from his presence.\n\nParsifal has invaded Klingsor's realm; the evil knights have fled before\nhis prowess, wounded and in disorder. Kundry is commissioned to meet the\nguileless youth in the enchanted garden, and, all other allurements\nfailing, to subdue him by her irresistible fascinations and hand him\nover to Klingsor.\n\nIn a moment the scenery lifts, and a garden of marvelous beauty and\nextent lies before us. The flowers are all of colossal dimensions--huge\nroses hang in tangled festoons, the cactus, the lily, the blue-bell,\ncreepers, and orchids of enormous size and dazzling color wave in\nmidair, and climb the aromatic trees.\n\nOn a bright hill appears Parsifal, standing bewildered by the light and\nloveliness around him. Beautiful girls dressed like flowers, and hardly\ndistinguishable from them at first, rush in, bewailing their wounded and\ndisabled knights, but, on seeing Parsifal, fall upon their new prey,\nand, surrounding him, sing verse after verse of the loveliest ballet\nmusic, while trying to embrace him, and quarreling with each other for\nthe privilege.\n\nAbout that wonderful chorus of flower-girls there was just a suggestive\ntouch of the Rhine maidens' singing. It belonged to the same school of\nthought and feeling, but was freer, wilder--more considerable, and\naltogether more complex and wonderful in its changes and in the\nmarvelous confusion in which it breaks up.\n\nThe \"guileless one\" resists these charmers, and they are just about to\nleave him in disgust, when the roses lift on one side, and, stretched on\na mossy bank overhung with flowers, appears a woman of unearthly\nloveliness. It is Kundry transformed, and in the marvelous duet which\nfollows between her and Parsifal, a perfectly new and original type of\nlove duet is struck out--an analysis of character, unique in musical\ndrama--a combination of sentiment and a situation absolutely novel,\nwhich could only have been conceived and carried out by a creative\ngenius of the highest order.\n\nFirst, I note that the once spellbound Kundry is devoted utterly to her\ntask of winning Parsifal. Into this she throws all the intensity of her\nwild and desperate nature; but in turn she is strangely affected by the\nspiritual atmosphere of the \"guileless one\"--a feeling comes over her,\nin the midst of her witchcraft passion, that he is in some way to be her\nsavior too; yet, womanlike, she conceives of her salvation as possible\nonly in union with him. Yet was this the very crime to which Klingsor\nwould drive her for the ruin of Parsifal. Strange confusion of thought,\nfeeling, aspiration, longing--struggle of irreconcilable elements! How\nshall she reconcile them? Her intuition fails her not, and her tact\ntriumphs. She will win by stealing his love through his mother's love.\nA mother's love is holy; that love she tells him of. It can never more\nbe his; but she will replace it, her passion shall be sanctified by it;\nthrough _that_ passion she has sinned, through it she, too, shall be\nredeemed. She will work out her own salvation by the very spells that\nare upon her for evil. He is pure--he shall make her pure, can she but\nwin him; both, by the might of such pure love, will surely be delivered\nfrom Klingsor, the corrupter, the tormentor. Fatuous dream! How, through\ncorruption, win incorruption? How, through indulgence, win peace and\nfreedom from desire? It is the old cheat of the senses--Satan appears as\nan angel of light. The thought deludes the unhappy Kundry herself; she\nis no longer consciously working for Klingsor; she really believes that\nthis new turn, this bias given to passion, will purify both her and the\nguileless, pure fool she seeks to subdue.\n\nNothing can describe the subtlety of their long interview, the\nsurprising turns of sentiment and contrasts of feeling. Throughout this\nscene Parsifal's instinct is absolutely true and sure. Everything Kundry\nsays about his mother, Herzeleide, he feels; but every attempt to make\nhim accept her instead he resists. Her desperate declamation is\nsplendid. Her heartrending sense of misery and piteous prayer for\nsalvation, her belief that before her is her savior could she but win\nhim to her will, the choking fury of baffled passion, the steady and\nsubtle encroachments made while Parsifal is lost in a meditative dream,\nthe burning kiss which recalls him to himself, the fine touch by which\nthis kiss, while arousing in him the stormiest feelings, causes a sharp\npain, as of Amfortas's own wound, piercing his very heart--all this is\nrealistic, if you will, but it is realism raised to the sublime.\n\nSuddenly Parsifal springs up, hurls the enchantress from him, will forth\nfrom Klingsor's realm. She is baffled--she knows it; for a moment she\nbars his passage, then succumbs; the might of sensuality which lost\nAmfortas the sacred spear has been met and defeated by the guileless\nfool. He has passed from innocence to knowledge in his interview with\nthe flower-girt girls, in his long converse with Kundry, in her\ninsidious embrace, in her kiss; but all these are now thrust aside; he\nsteps forth still unconquered, still \"guileless,\" but no more \"a fool.\"\nThe knowledge of good and evil has come, but the struggle is already\npassed.\n\n\"Yes, sinner, I do offer thee Redemption,\" he can say to Kundry; \"not in\nthy way, but in thy Lord Christ's way of sacrifice!\"\n\nBut the desperate creature, wild with passion, will listen to no reason;\nshe shouts aloud to her master, and Klingsor suddenly appears, poising\nthe sacred spear. In another moment he hurls it right across the\nenchanted garden at Parsifal. It can not wound the guileless and pure\none as it wounded the sinful Amfortas. A miracle! It hangs arrested in\nair above Parsifal's head; he seizes it--it is the sacred talisman, one\ntouch of which will heal even as it inflicted the king's deadly wound.\n\nWith a mighty cry and the shock as of an earthquake, the castle of\nKlingsor falls shattered to pieces, the garden withers up to a desert,\nthe girls, who have rushed in, lie about among the fading flowers,\nthemselves withered up and dead. Kundry sinks down in a deathly swoon,\nwhile Parsifal steps over a ruined wall and disappears, saluting her\nwith the words: \"Thou alone knowest when we shall meet again!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe long shadows were stealing over the hills when I came out at the\nsecond pause. Those whom I met and conversed with were subdued and\nawed. What a solemn tragedy of human passion we had been assisting at!\nNot a heart there but could interpret that struggle between the flesh\nand the spirit from its own experiences. Not one but knew the\ndesperately wicked and deceitful temptations that come like\nenchantresses in the wizard's garden, to plead the cause of the devil in\nthe language of high-flown sentiment or even religious feeling.\n\nPraise and criticism seemed dumb; we rather walked and spoke of what we\nhad just witnessed like men convinced of judgment, and righteousness,\nand sin. It was a strange mood in which to come out of a theater after\nwitnessing what would commonly be called an \"Opera.\" I felt more than\never the impossibility of producing the _Parsifal_ in London, at Drury\nLane or Covent Garden, before a well-dressed company of loungers, who\nhad well dined, and were on their way to balls and suppers afterward.\n\nI would as soon see the Oberammergau play at a music-hall.\n\nNo; in _Parsifal_ all is solemn, or all is irreverent. At Bayreuth we\ncame on a pilgrimage; it cost us time, and trouble, and money; we were\nin earnest--so were the actors; the spirit of the great master who had\nplanned every detail seemed still to preside over all; the actors lived\nin their parts; not a thought of self remained; no one accepted applause\nor recall; no one aimed at producing a personal effect; the actors were\nlost in the drama, and it was the drama and not the actors which has\nimpressed and solemnized us. When I came out they asked me who was\nAmfortas? I did not know. I said \"the wounded king.\"\n\nAs the instruments played out the Faith and Love motive for us to\nreenter, the mellow sunshine broke once more from the cloud-rack over\ncity, and field, and forest, before sinking behind the long low range of\nthe distant hills.\n\n\n\n\nAct III\n\n\nThe opening prelude of the third and last act seems to warn me of the\nlapse of time. The music is full of pain and restlessness--the pain of\nwretched years of long waiting for a deliverer, who comes not; the\nrestlessness and misery of a hope deferred, the weariness of life\nwithout a single joy. The motives, discolored as it were by grief, work\nup to a distorted version of the Grail subject, which breaks off as with\na cry of despair.\n\nIs the Grail, too, then turned into a mocking spirit to the unhappy\nAmfortas?\n\nRelief comes to us with the lovely scene upon which the curtain rises.\nAgain the wide summer-land lies stretching away over sunlit moor and\nwoodland. In the foreground wave the forest trees, and I hear the ripple\nof the woodland streams. Invariably throughout the drama, in the midst\nof all human pain and passion, great Nature is there, peaceful,\nharmonious in all her loveliest moods, a paradise in which dwell souls\nwho make of her their own purgatory.\n\nIn yonder aged figure, clad in the Grail pilgrim robe, I discern\nGurnemanz; his hair is white; he stoops with years; a rude hut is hard\nby. Presently a groan arrests his attention, moaning as of a human\nthing in distress. He clears away some brushwood, and beneath it finds,\nwaking from her long trance, the strange figure of Kundry. For how many\nyears she has slept we know not. Why is she now recalled to life? She\nstaggers to her feet; we see that she too is in a pilgrim garb, with a\nrope girding her dress of coarse brown serge. \"Service! service!\" she\nmutters, and, seizing a pitcher, moves mechanically to fill it at the\nwell, then totters but half awake into the wooden hut. The forest music\nbreaks forth--the hum of happy insect life, the song of wild birds. All\nseems to pass as in a vision, when suddenly enters a knight clad in\nblack armor from top to toe.\n\nThe two eye him curiously, and Gurnemanz, approaching, bids him lay\naside his armor and his weapons. He carries a long spear. In silence the\nknight un-helms, and, sticking the spear into the ground, kneels before\nit, and remains lost in devotional contemplation. The \"Spear\" and\n\"Grail\" motives mingle together in the full tide of orchestral sounds\ncarrying on the emotional undercurrent of the drama. The knight is soon\nrecognized by both as the long-lost and discarded Parsifal.\n\nThe \"guileless one\" has learned wisdom, and discovered his mission--he\nknows now that he bears the spear which is to heal the king's grievous\nwound, and that he himself is appointed his successor. Through long\nstrife and trial and pain he seems to have grown into something of\nChrist's own likeness. Not all at once, but at last he has found the\npath. He returns to bear salvation and pardon both to Kundry and the\nwretched king, Amfortas.\n\nThe full music flows on while Gurnemanz relates how the knights have all\ngrown weak and aged, deprived of the vision and sustenance of the Holy\nGrail, while the long-entranced Titurel is at last dead.\n\nAt this news Parsifal, overcome with grief, swoons away, and Gurnemanz\nand Kundry loosen his armor, and sprinkle him with water from the holy\nspring. Underneath his black suit of mail he appears clad in a long\nwhite tunic.\n\nThe grouping here is admirable. Gurnemanz is in the Templar's red and\nblue robe. Parsifal in white, his auburn hair parted in front and\nflowing down in ringlets on either side, recalls Leonardo's favorite\nconception of the Savior's head, and, indeed, from this point Parsifal\nbecomes a kind of symbolic reflection of the Lord Himself. Kundry,\nsubdued and awed, lies weeping at his feet; he lifts his hands to bless\nher with infinite pity. She washes his feet, and dries them with the\nhairs of her head. It is a bold stroke, but the voices of nature, the\nmurmur of the summer woods, come with an infinite healing tenderness and\npity, and the act is seen to be symbolical of the pure devotion of a\nsinful creature redeemed from sin. Peace has at last entered into that\nwild and troubled heart, and restless Kundry, delivered from Klingsor's\nspell, receives the sprinkling of baptismal water at the hands of\nParsifal.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe great spaces of silence in the dialog, broken now by a few sentences\nfrom Parsifal, now from Gurnemanz, are more eloquent than many words.\nThe tidal music flows on in a ceaseless stream of changing harmonies,\nreturning constantly to the sweet and slumbrous sound of a summer-land,\nfull of teeming life and glowing happiness.\n\nThen Gurnemanz takes up his parable. It is the Blessed Good Friday on\nwhich our dear Lord suffered. The Love and Faith phrases are chimed\nforth, the pain-notes of the Cross agony are sounded and pass, the Grail\nmotive seems to swoon away in descending harmonies, sinking into the\nwoodland voices of universal Nature--that trespass-pardoned Nature that\nnow seems waking to the day of her glory and innocence.\n\nIn that solemn moment Parsifal bends over the subdued and humbled\nKundry, and kisses her softly on the brow--_her_ wild kiss in the garden\nhad kindled in him fierce fire, mingled with the bitter wound-pain;\n_his_ is the seal of her eternal pardon and peace.\n\nIn the distance the great bells of Montsalvat are now heard booming\nsolemnly--the air darkens, the light fades out, the slow motion of all\nthe scenery recommences. Again I hear the wild cave music, strange and\nhollow sounding--the three move on as in a dream, and are soon lost in\nthe deep shadows; and through all, louder and louder, boom the heavy\nbells of Montsalvat, until the stage brightens, and we find ourselves\nonce more in the vast Alhambralike hall of the knights.\n\n[Illustration: Copyright, 1903, by Pach Bros., N. Y.\n\nPARSIFAL ENTERING THE GRAIL CASTLE IN TRIUMPH]\n\nFor the last time Amfortas is borne in, and the brotherhood of the Grail\nform the possession bearing the sacred relics, which are deposited\nbefore him.\n\nThe king, in great agony and despair, bewails the death of his father\nand his own backsliding. With failing but desperate energy he harangues\nthe assembled knights, and, tottering forward, beseeches them to free\nhim from his misery and sin-stained life, and thrust their swords deep\ninto his wounded side. At this moment Gurnemanz, accompanied by Parsifal\nand Kundry, enter. Parsifal steps forward with the sacred spear, now at\nlength to be restored to the knights. He touches the side of Amfortas,\nthe wound is healed, and as he raises the spear on high the point is\nseen glowing with the crimson glory of the Grail. Then stepping up to\nthe shrine, Parsifal takes the crystal cup, the dark blood glows bright\ncrimson as he holds it on high, and at that moment, while all fall on\ntheir knees, and celestial music (\"Drink ye all of this\") floats in the\nupper air, Kundry falls back dying, her eyes fixed on the blessed Grail.\nA white dove descends and hovers for a moment, poised in mid-air above\nthe glowing cup. A soft chorus of angels seems to die away in the clouds\nbeyond the golden dome--\n\n    \"Marvelous mercy!\n    Victorious Savior!\"\n\nWords can add nothing to the completeness of the drama, and no words can\ngive any idea of the splendor and complexity of that sound ocean upon\nwhich the drama floats from beginning to end.\n\nThe enemies of the Grail are destroyed or subdued, the wound they have\ninflicted is healed, the prey they claimed is rescued; the pure and\nblameless Parsifal becomes the consecrated head of the holy brotherhood,\nand the beatic vision of God's eternal love and Real Presence is\nrestored to the knights of the Sangrail.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen I came out of the theater, at the end of the third and last act, it\nwas ten o'clock.\n\nThe wind was stirring in the fir-trees, the stars gleamed out fitfully\nthrough a sky, across which the clouds were hurrying wildly, but the\nmoon rose low and large beyond the shadowy hills, and bathed the misty\nvalleys with a mild and golden radiance as of some celestial dawn.\n\n\n\n\nWhen the Curtain Fell\n\n\nWhen the curtain fell on the last performance of _Parsifal_, at\nBayreuth, which, on the 30th of July, 1883, brought the celebration\nmonth to a close, the enthusiasm of the audience found full vent in\napplause. The curtain was once lifted, but no calls would induce the\nperformers to appear a second time or receive any individual homage.\nThis is entirely in accordance with the tone of these exceptional\nrepresentations. On each occasion the only applause permitted was at the\nend of the drama, and throughout not a single actor answered to a call\nor received any personal tribute.\n\nBehind the scenes occurred a touching incident. The banker Gross led\nWagner's children up to the assembled actors, and in the name of their\ndead father thanked the assembly for the care and labor of love expended\nby each and all in producing the last work of the great dead master.\nSiegfried, Wagner's son, thirteen years old, then, in a few simple\nwords, stifled with sobs, thanked the actors personally, and all the\nchildren shook hands with them. The King of Bavaria charged himself upon\nWagner's death with the education of his son.\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\nThe Hour-Glass Stories\n\n_A Series of Entertaining Novelettes\nIllustrated and Issued in Dainty Dress.\nFIRST SEVEN NOW READY\nPrice,[Transcriber's Note: Missing text] net, each\nBy Mail [Transcriber's Note: Missing text]_\n\n\nI.\n\nSWEET ANNE PAGE\n\nBY ELLEN V. TALBOT\n\nA brisk little love story full of fun and frolic and telling of the\ncourtship of Sweet Anne Page by her three lovers.\n\n\nII.\n\nTHE HERR DOCTOR\n\nBY ROBERT MACDONALD\n\nA crisp, dainty story of the schemes and pretty wiles by which\na traveling American heiress wins and is won by a German\nnobleman.--_Minneapolis Times_.\n\n\nIII.\n\nTHE TRANSFIGURATION OF MISS PHILURA\n\nBY FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY\n\n_Author of_ \"_Titus_,\" \"_Prisoners of the Sea,\" etc_.\n\nThis clever story is based on the theory that every physical need and\nevery desire of the human heart can be claimed and received from the\n\"Encircling Good\" by the true believer. Miss Philura is enchanted with\nthis creed, adopts it literally, and obtains thereby various blessings\nof particular value to a timid spinster, including a husband.\n\n\"It is a dainty little story, and quite out of the\ncommon.\"--_Philadelphia Daily Evening Telegraph_.\n\n\nIV.\n\nTHE SANDALS\n\nBY REV. ZELOTES GRENELL\n\nA beautiful little idyl of Palestine concerning the sandals of Christ.\nIt tells of their wanderings and who were their wearers, from the time\nthat they fell to the lot of a Roman soldier when Christ's garments were\nparted among his crucifiers to the day when they came back to Mary, the\nMother of Jesus.\n\n\nV.\n\nPARSIFAL\n\nBY H. R. HAWEIS\n\nAn intimate and appreciative description and consideration of Wagner's\ngreat opera. Illustrated with portrait of composer and scenes from the\nopera.\n\n\nVI.\n\nESARHADDON KING OF ASSYRIA\n\nBY LEO TOLSTOY\n\nThree short stories, allegorical in style, illustrating with homely\nsimplicity, yet with classic charm, Tolstoy's theories of non-resistance\nand the essential unity of all forms of life.\n\nWritten for the benefit of the Kishinef sufferers. Publisher's and\nauthor's profits go to Kishinef Relief Fund.\n\n\nVII.\n\nTHE TROUBLE WOMAN\n\nBY CLARA MORRIS\n\nA pathetic, even tragic tale, but one which carries the most optimistic\nof messages. The unobtrusive moral of the story is that the way to find\nconsolation for one's own trouble is to consider those of others and to\nlend a helping hand.\n\n\nFUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers\nNEW YORK & LONDON","title":"Parsifal: Story and Analysis of Wagner's Great Opera","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":7929}