Summer and autumn were gone, and the ground was covered with snow, when
one evening Percival saw the dwelling of a recluse at a little
distance. He was half frozen with cold, and so very weary, that when he
dismounted he could only drag himself with difficulty to the door. A
tall and stately, but somewhat haggard man answered his knock, and told
him to come in, while he attended to his horse.
The hermit gave him food, and spread a bed of moss for him, and while
resting there, Percival began to look about him. He saw a sword with a
richly carved hilt, inlaid with gold, hanging on the wall, and asked to
whom it had belonged. The hermit sighed as he answered that it had
belonged to him at the time when he cared for nothing but glory and
love, and forgot the holy Grail, the care of which had been committed
to him.
“For, stranger,” he continued, “you must know that I am Trevrezent,
brother of the unhappy King Amfortas, and that, like him, I devoted my
life to the pursuit of fleeting pleasures. When the poisoned lance
struck Amfortas, and caused him the unspeakable pain that he still
endures, I laid aside my sword and armour and retired to this solitary
place that I might do penance for my own sins, and perhaps even redeem
my brother. Idle hope! the sufferer still endures his agony, and he
that was chosen by God to save him neglected to do it, and has earned
thereby the curse of perdition instead of the glorious place that was
prepared for him.”
“I am he who sinned so deeply, yet unconsciously,” cried Percival, “but
where is the justice or love of a Being that punishes the sin of
ignorance with such a curse?”
“So you are Percival, the son of my sister Herzeleide,” said
Trevrezent. “You found the way to the Grail, but not to redemption, for
you did not know the All-merciful, who only speaks in those who have
received Him into their hearts. Hearken to me, and I will unfold the
wondrous goodness and love He has shown to the children of men, that
you may learn to endure and to trust.”
Trevrezent then proceeded to tell his nephew of God’s dealings with man
from the beginning of time until the coming and death of Christ, and to
show him what lessons might be learnt therefrom. He afterwards told him
that his mother had died of sorrow not long after his departure, and
that in dying she had blessed him. He went on to say that Percival must
now seek the Sangreal with a pure heart and humble mind, trusting in
God, who knew that he had repented, and whose mercy was without end.
The hero remained for some days with his uncle, who strengthened and
encouraged him to perform the task that lay before him.
At last, taking leave of Trevrezent, he departed and journeyed for a
great distance without seeing any trace of the holy mountain. One day
he met a knight who insisted on fighting with him. But suddenly in the
middle of the fray Percival’s sword broke, and he exclaimed that if he
had had his father Gamuret’s weapon it would not have played him such a
sorry trick. The stranger then questioned him about Gamuret, and after
he had heard what Percival had to say, he added:
“Then you and I are brothers, for when Gamuret was in the East, he
married the Moorish queen; after her death he returned home and wedded
your mother. I was brought up by my mother’s relations, and am now king
of the Moors. My name is Feirefiss.”
So saying he opened his visor and showed Percival a dark, handsome face.
The brothers embraced with great affection, and Percival said:
“The sword that Amfortas the sufferer gave me would not drink a
brother’s blood; this is the first sign that God has heard my prayers.
And—but was I blind?—surely I know this place! There is the lake, the
rocks are here—yes, there is the road to the holy mountain. Come,
brother, follow me up the steep path to the heights above, where Divine
mercy awaits us.”
Both heroes set out on their toilsome road with a stout heart and a
willing mind; but the way was so full of difficulties that the sun was
about to set before they reached the castle. On their arrival they were
received like expected guests, and their horses—which they had been
obliged to lead most of the way—were taken to the stable. Percival and
Feirefiss were conducted straight to the hall, which was brilliantly
lighted with wax candles. King Amfortas and his knights were in their
usual places. The squire then came in with the bleeding lance, and was
followed as before by the maidens bearing the cushion, stand, etc., and
lastly, by the fair virgin, Queen Repanse carrying the holy Grail.
“Merciful Father, and our sweet Lord and Saviour,” whispered Sir
Percival, “teach me what I must do to bring redemption.”
And it seemed to him that an angel spoke in his ear the one word,
“Ask!” His understanding was now enlightened. He knew what to do. Going
up to Amfortas he said:
“What ails you, great king? and why are the halls that contain the holy
Grail filled with mourning and woe?”
The candles went out, but the Sangreal spread a brighter radiance than
before throughout the room, and on the side of the sacred vessel
appeared in letters of flame, “Amfortas is cured; Percival shall be
king.” At the same moment soft and heavenly music filled the air, and
invisible angels sang “Glory to God on high, and on earth peace,
goodwill to men.”
The hero stood silent, his heart overflowing with joy and thankfulness.
An old man now approached him with a firm step and dignified mien. He
bore a crown in his hands, and this he set on the head of the chosen
king, saying:
“Hail, Percival, all hail! Long have we waited for your coming. I am
your great-grandfather Titurel, and have been called to make over to
you the insignia of the highest honour. Now I may depart in peace. The
days of my earthly pilgrimage will soon be over, and I shall rest in
the Lord.”
Amfortas, who was now well, and free from pain, rose from his seat, and
greeting Percival with solemn joy, placed the royal mantle on his
shoulders, calling on him to uphold the right, and to punish all
injustice and wrong.
The assembled knights joined in proclaiming the new king, and in
swearing to be true to him.
And the angelic choir sang in jubilant tones:
“Hail to thee Percival, king of the Grail!
Seemingly lost for ever,
Now thou art blest for ever.
Hail to thee Percival, king of the Grail!”
While Percival stood there, touched and softened by all that had
happened, the door opened, and a veiled lady came in, followed by her
train. As he looked at her inquiringly, she threw back her veil, and
showed the face of Konduiramur, the wife he loved so well, and from
whom he had so long been absent.
It was strange that the light shed by the holy Grail left one man, and
one alone, in darkness. This was Feirefiss, the Moorish king, who
seemed to be overshadowed by a dark cloud. He asked, whence came the
bright rays that lighted the hall, but did not fall upon him.
“The sacred vessel,” replied old Titurel, “that received the Saviour’s
blood, only enlightens those who believe. You still live in the
darkness of unbelief, in the bonds of the Evil One. Bow your head
before Christ the crucified, the Prince of Light and Truth, and your
heart also shall be enlightened.”
The old man’s words had a strong effect upon Feirefiss, who desired,
and immediately received, baptism at the hands of Titurel; and no
sooner was the rite concluded than he too could see the Sangreal, and
was embraced in the radiance that emanated from it.
After that, Titurel knelt down before the sacred vessel and prayed.
Having done this, he rose from his knees, and, taking solemn leave of
all, told them that Sigune was now at rest. Having thus spoken, he
passed out of the hall, and was no more seen of them, or of any mortal
man.
Feirefiss remained for some time at the castle on the holy mount. While
there, he received instruction in the Christian faith, and when he went
away, he took as his wife the fair Queen Repanse, to rule with him over
his own land. They had a son named John, who became a great warrior,
and who formed a brotherhood, like that of the Templars, of the holy
Grail; a brotherhood, strong, mighty, enduring, and of great renown.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: ELSE’S DREAM.]
III.
LOHENGRIN.
(LOHERANGRIN.)