Parsifal | Page 4

is a complete repertory of facts connected with
the Grail tradition, unfolds to the esquires the nature of the king's
wound, the sorceries of Klingsor, the hope of deliverance from some
unknown "guileless one," a sudden cry breaks up the situation.
A white swan, pierced by an arrow, flutters dying to the ground. It is
the swan beloved of the Grail brotherhood, bird of fair omen, symbol of
spotless purity. The slayer is brought in between two knights--a

stalwart youth, fearless, unabashed, while the death-music of the swan,
the slow distilling and stiffening of its life-blood, is marvelously
rendered by the orchestra. Conviction of his fault comes over the youth
as he listens to the reproaches of Gurnemanz. He hangs his head
ashamed and penitent, and at last, with a sudden passion of remorse,
snaps his bow and flings it aside. The swan is borne off, and Parsifal,
the "guileless one" (for he it is), with Gurnemanz and Kundry--who
rouses herself and surveys Parsifal with strange, almost savage
curiosity--hold the stage.
In this scene Kundry tells the youth more than he cares to hear about
himself: how his father, Gamuret, was a great knight killed in battle;
how his mother, Herzeleide (Heart's Affliction), fearing a like fate for
her son, brought him up in the lonely forest; how he left her to follow a
troop of knights that he met one day winding through the forest glade,
and being led on and on in pursuit of them, never overtook them and
never returned to his mother, Heart's Affliction, who died of grief. At
this point the frantic youth seizes Kundry by the throat in an agony of
rage and grief, but is held back by Gurnemanz, till, worn out by the
violence of his emotion, he faints away, and is gradually revived by
Kundry and Gurnemanz.
Suddenly, Kundry rises with a wild look, like one under a spell. Her
mood of service is over. She staggers across the stage--she can hardly
keep awake. "Sleep," she mutters, "I must sleep--sleep!" and falls down
in one of those long trances which apparently last for months, or years,
and form the transition periods between her mood of Grail service and
the Klingsor slavery into which she must next relapse in spite of
herself.
And is this the guileless one? This wild youth who slays the fair
swan--who knows not his own name nor whence he comes, nor whither
he goes, nor what are his destinies? The old knight eyes him
curiously--he will put him to the test. This youth had seen the king pass
once--he had marked his pain. Was he "enlightened by pity"? Is he the
appointed deliverer? The old knight now invites him to the shrine of the
Grail. "What is the Grail?" asks the youth. Truly a guileless, innocent

one! yet a brave and pure knight, since he has known no evil, and so
readily repents of a fault committed in ignorance.
Gurnemanz is strangely drawn to him. He shall see the Grail, and in the
Holy Palace, what time the mystic light streams forth and the
assembled knights bow themselves in prayer, the voice which
comforted Amfortas shall speak to his deliverer and bid him arise and
heal the king.
* * * * *
Gurnemanz and Parsifal have ceased to speak. They stand in the
glowing light of the summer-land. The tide of music rolls on
continuously, but sounds more strange and dreamy.
Is it a cloud passing over the sky? There seems to be a shuddering in
the branches--the light fades upon yonder sunny woodlands--the
foreground darkens apace. The whole scene is moving, but so slowly
that it seems to change like a dissolving view. I see the two figures of
Gurnemanz and Parsifal moving through the trees--they are lost behind
yonder rock. They emerge farther off--higher up. The air grows very
dim; the orchestra peals louder and louder. I lose the two in the
deepening twilight. The forest is changing, the land is wild and
mountainous. Huge galleries and arcades, rock-hewn, loom through the
dim forest; but all is growing dark. I listen to the murmurs of the
"Grail," the "Spear," the "Pain," the "Love and Faith" motives--hollow
murmurs, confused, floating out of the depths of lonely caves. Then I
have a feeling of void and darkness, and there comes a sighing as of a
soul swooning away in a trance, and a vision of waste places and wild
caverns; and then through the confused dream I hear the solemn boom
of mighty bells, only muffled. They keep time as to some ghastly
march. I strain my eyes into the thick gloom before me. Is it a rock, or
forest, or palace?
As the light returns slowly, a hall of more than Alhambralike splendor
opens before me. My