Parsifal | Page 5

eyes are riveted on the shining pillars of
variegated marble, the tessellated pavements, the vaulted roof glowing
with gold and color; beyond, arcades of agate columns, bathed in a

misty moonlight air, and lost in a bewildering perspective of halls and
corridors.
[Illustration: Copyright, 1903, by Pach Bros., N. Y.
PARSIFAL AND GURNEMANZ PASSING THROUGH THE
RAVINE]
I hear the falling of distant water in marble fonts; the large bells of
Montsalvat peal louder and louder, and to music of unimaginable
stateliness the knights, clad in the blue and red robes of the Grail, enter
in solemn procession, and take their seats at two semicircular tables
which start like arms to the right and left of the holy shrine. Beneath it
lies Titurel entranced, and upon it is presently deposited the sacred
treasure of the Grail itself.
As the wounded King Amfortas is borne in, the assembled knights,
each standing in his place, a golden cup before him, intone the Grail
motive, which is taken up by the entering choruses of servitors and
esquires bearing the holy relics.
Gurnemanz is seated among knights; Parsifal stands aside and looks on
in mute astonishment, "a guileless one."
As the Holy Grail is set down on the altar before the wounded king, a
burst of heavenly music streams from the high dome--voices of angels
intone the celestial phrases, "Take, eat" and "This is my blood!" and
blend them with the "faith and love" motives. As the choruses die away,
the voice of the entranced Titurel is heard from beneath the altar calling
upon Amfortas, his son, to uncover the Grail, that he may find
refreshment and life in the blessed vision.
Then follows a terrible struggle in the breast of Amfortas. He, sore
stricken in sin, yet Guardian of the Grail, guilty among the guiltless,
oppressed with pain, bowed down with shame, craving for restoration,
overwhelmed with unworthiness, yet chosen to stand and minister
before the Lord on behalf of His saints! Pathetic situation, which must
in all times repeat itself in the history of the Church. The unworthiness

of the minister affects not the validity of his consecrated acts. Yet what
agony of mind must many a priest have suffered, himself oppressed
with sin and doubt, while dispensing the means of grace, and acting as
a minister and steward of the mysteries!
The marvelous piece of self-analysis in which the conscience-stricken
king bewails his lot as little admits of description here as the music
which embodies his emotion.
At the close of it angel voices seem floating in midair, sighing the
mystic words:
"Durch Mitleid wissend Der reine Thor, Harre sein Den ich erkor."
[Wait for my chosen one, Guileless and innocent, Pity-enlightened.]
And immediately afterward the voice of Titurel, like one turning
restlessly in his sleep, comes up from his living tomb beneath the altar:
"Uncover the Grail!"
With trembling hands the sick king raises himself, and with a great
effort staggers toward the shrine--the covering is removed--he takes the
crystal cup--he raises it on high--the blood is dark--the light begins to
fade in the hall--a mist and dimness come over the scene--we seem to
be assisting at a shadowy ceremony in a dream--the big bells are
tolling--the heavenly choirs from above the dome, which is now bathed
in twilight, are heard: "Drink ye all of this!" Amfortas raises on high
the crystal vase--the knights fall on their knees in prayer. Suddenly a
faint tremor of light quivers in the crystal cup--then the blood grows
ruby red for a moment. Amfortas waves it to and fro--the knights gaze
in ecstatic adoration. Titurel's voice gathers strength in his tomb:
"Celestial rapture: How streams the light upon the face of God!"
The light fades slowly out of the crystal cup--the miracle is
accomplished. The blood again grows dark--the light of common day
returns to the halls of Montsalvat, and the knights resume their seats, to
find each one his golden goblet filled with wine.

During the sacred repast which follows, the brotherhood join hands and
embrace, singing:
"Blessed are they that believe; Blessed are they that love!"
and the refrain is heard again far up in the heights, reechoed by the
angelic hosts.
* * * * *
[Illustration: Copyright, 1903, by Pach Bros., N. Y.
THE GREAT HALL OF THE HOLY GRAIL]
I looked round upon the silent audience while these astonishing scenes
were passing before me; the whole assembly was motionless--all
seemed to be awed by the august spectacle--seemed almost to share in
the devout contemplation and trancelike worship of the holy knights.
Every thought of the stage had vanished--nothing was further from my
own thoughts than play-acting. I was sitting as I should sit at an
oratorio, in devout and rapt contemplation. Before my eyes had passed
a symbolic vision of prayer and