The opening prelude of the third and last act seems to warn me of the
lapse of time. The music is full of pain and restlessness--the pain of
wretched years of long waiting for a deliverer, who comes not; the
restlessness and misery of a hope deferred, the weariness of life
without a single joy. The motives, discolored as it were by grief, work
up to a distorted version of the Grail subject, which breaks off as with
a cry of despair.
Is the Grail, too, then turned into a mocking spirit to the unhappy
Amfortas?
Relief comes to us with the lovely scene upon which the curtain rises.
Again the wide summer-land lies stretching away over sunlit moor and
woodland. In the foreground wave the forest trees, and I hear the ripple
of the woodland streams. Invariably throughout the drama, in the midst
of all human pain and passion, great Nature is there, peaceful,
harmonious in all her loveliest moods, a paradise in which dwell souls
who make of her their own purgatory.
In yonder aged figure, clad in the Grail pilgrim robe, I discern
Gurnemanz; his hair is white; he stoops with years; a rude hut is hard
by. Presently a groan arrests his attention, moaning as of a human
thing in distress. He clears away some brushwood, and beneath it finds,
waking from her long trance, the strange figure of Kundry. For how many
years she has slept we know not. Why is she now recalled to life? She
staggers to her feet; we see that she too is in a pilgrim garb, with a
rope girding her dress of coarse brown serge. "Service! service!" she
mutters, and, seizing a pitcher, moves mechanically to fill it at the
well, then totters but half awake into the wooden hut. The forest music
breaks forth--the hum of happy insect life, the song of wild birds. All
seems to pass as in a vision, when suddenly enters a knight clad in
black armor from top to toe.
The two eye him curiously, and Gurnemanz, approaching, bids him lay
aside his armor and his weapons. He carries a long spear. In silence the
knight un-helms, and, sticking the spear into the ground, kneels before
it, and remains lost in devotional contemplation. The "Spear" and
"Grail" motives mingle together in the full tide of orchestral sounds
carrying on the emotional undercurrent of the drama. The knight is soon
recognized by both as the long-lost and discarded Parsifal.
The "guileless one" has learned wisdom, and discovered his mission--he
knows now that he bears the spear which is to heal the king's grievous
wound, and that he himself is appointed his successor. Through long
strife and trial and pain he seems to have grown into something of
Christ's own likeness. Not all at once, but at last he has found the
path. He returns to bear salvation and pardon both to Kundry and the
wretched king, Amfortas.
The full music flows on while Gurnemanz relates how the knights have all
grown weak and aged, deprived of the vision and sustenance of the Holy
Grail, while the long-entranced Titurel is at last dead.
At this news Parsifal, overcome with grief, swoons away, and Gurnemanz
and Kundry loosen his armor, and sprinkle him with water from the holy
spring. Underneath his black suit of mail he appears clad in a long
white tunic.
The grouping here is admirable. Gurnemanz is in the Templar's red and
blue robe. Parsifal in white, his auburn hair parted in front and
flowing down in ringlets on either side, recalls Leonardo's favorite
conception of the Savior's head, and, indeed, from this point Parsifal
becomes a kind of symbolic reflection of the Lord Himself. Kundry,
subdued and awed, lies weeping at his feet; he lifts his hands to bless
her with infinite pity. She washes his feet, and dries them with the
hairs of her head. It is a bold stroke, but the voices of nature, the
murmur of the summer woods, come with an infinite healing tenderness and
pity, and the act is seen to be symbolical of the pure devotion of a
sinful creature redeemed from sin. Peace has at last entered into that
wild and troubled heart, and restless Kundry, delivered from Klingsor's
spell, receives the sprinkling of baptismal water at the hands of
Parsifal.
* * * * *
The great spaces of silence in the dialog, broken now by a few sentences
from Parsifal, now from Gurnemanz, are more eloquent than many words.
The tidal music flows on in a ceaseless stream of changing harmonies,
returning constantly to the sweet and slumbrous sound of a summer-land,
full of teeming life and glowing happiness.
Then Gurnemanz takes up his parable. It is the Blessed Good Friday on
which our dear Lord suffered. The Love and Faith phrases are chimed
forth, the pain-notes of the Cross agony are sounded and pass, the Grail
motive seems to swoon away in descending harmonies, sinking into the
woodland voices of universal Nature--that trespass-pardoned Nature that
now seems waking to the day of her glory and innocence.
In that solemn moment Parsifal bends over the subdued and humbled
Kundry, and kisses her softly on the brow--_her_ wild kiss in the garden
had kindled in him fierce fire, mingled with the bitter wound-pain;
_his_ is the seal of her eternal pardon and peace.
In the distance the great bells of Montsalvat are now heard booming
solemnly--the air darkens, the light fades out, the slow motion of all
the scenery recommences. Again I hear the wild cave music, strange and
hollow sounding--the three move on as in a dream, and are soon lost in
the deep shadows; and through all, louder and louder, boom the heavy
bells of Montsalvat, until the stage brightens, and we find ourselves
once more in the vast Alhambralike hall of the knights.
[Illustration: Copyright, 1903, by Pach Bros., N. Y.
PARSIFAL ENTERING THE GRAIL CASTLE IN TRIUMPH]
For the last time Amfortas is borne in, and the brotherhood of the Grail
form the possession bearing the sacred relics, which are deposited
before him.
The king, in great agony and despair, bewails the death of his father
and his own backsliding. With failing but desperate energy he harangues
the assembled knights, and, tottering forward, beseeches them to free
him from his misery and sin-stained life, and thrust their swords deep
into his wounded side. At this moment Gurnemanz, accompanied by Parsifal
and Kundry, enter. Parsifal steps forward with the sacred spear, now at
length to be restored to the knights. He touches the side of Amfortas,
the wound is healed, and as he raises the spear on high the point is
seen glowing with the crimson glory of the Grail. Then stepping up to
the shrine, Parsifal takes the crystal cup, the dark blood glows bright
crimson as he holds it on high, and at that moment, while all fall on
their knees, and celestial music ("Drink ye all of this") floats in the
upper air, Kundry falls back dying, her eyes fixed on the blessed Grail.
A white dove descends and hovers for a moment, poised in mid-air above
the glowing cup. A soft chorus of angels seems to die away in the clouds
beyond the golden dome--
"Marvelous mercy!
Victorious Savior!"
Words can add nothing to the completeness of the drama, and no words can
give any idea of the splendor and complexity of that sound ocean upon
which the drama floats from beginning to end.
The enemies of the Grail are destroyed or subdued, the wound they have
inflicted is healed, the prey they claimed is rescued; the pure and
blameless Parsifal becomes the consecrated head of the holy brotherhood,
and the beatic vision of God's eternal love and Real Presence is
restored to the knights of the Sangrail.
* * * * *
When I came out of the theater, at the end of the third and last act, it
was ten o'clock.
The wind was stirring in the fir-trees, the stars gleamed out fitfully
through a sky, across which the clouds were hurrying wildly, but the
moon rose low and large beyond the shadowy hills, and bathed the misty
valleys with a mild and golden radiance as of some celestial dawn.
When the Curtain Fell
When the curtain fell on the last performance of _Parsifal_, at
Bayreuth, which, on the 30th of July, 1883, brought the celebration
month to a close, the enthusiasm of the audience found full vent in
applause. The curtain was once lifted, but no calls would induce the
performers to appear a second time or receive any individual homage.
This is entirely in accordance with the tone of these exceptional
representations. On each occasion the only applause permitted was at the
end of the drama, and throughout not a single actor answered to a call
or received any personal tribute.
Behind the scenes occurred a touching incident. The banker Gross led
Wagner's children up to the assembled actors, and in the name of their
dead father thanked the assembly for the care and labor of love expended
by each and all in producing the last work of the great dead master.
Siegfried, Wagner's son, thirteen years old, then, in a few simple
words, stifled with sobs, thanked the actors personally, and all the
children shook hands with them. The King of Bavaria charged himself upon
Wagner's death with the education of his son.
* * * * *
The Hour-Glass Stories
_A Series of Entertaining Novelettes
Illustrated and Issued in Dainty Dress.
FIRST SEVEN NOW READY
Price,[Transcriber's Note: Missing text] net, each
By Mail [Transcriber's Note: Missing text]_
I.
SWEET ANNE PAGE
BY ELLEN V. TALBOT
A brisk little love story full of fun and frolic and telling of the
courtship of Sweet Anne Page by her three lovers.
II.
THE HERR DOCTOR
BY ROBERT MACDONALD
A crisp, dainty story of the schemes and pretty wiles by which
a traveling American heiress wins and is won by a German
nobleman.--_Minneapolis Times_.
III.
THE TRANSFIGURATION OF MISS PHILURA
BY FLORENCE MORSE KINGSLEY
_Author of_ "_Titus_," "_Prisoners of the Sea," etc_.
This clever story is based on the theory that every physical need and
every desire of the human heart can be claimed and received from the
"Encircling Good" by the true believer. Miss Philura is enchanted with
this creed, adopts it literally, and obtains thereby various blessings
of particular value to a timid spinster, including a husband.
"It is a dainty little story, and quite out of the
common."--_Philadelphia Daily Evening Telegraph_.
IV.
THE SANDALS
BY REV. ZELOTES GRENELL
A beautiful little idyl of Palestine concerning the sandals of Christ.
It tells of their wanderings and who were their wearers, from the time
that they fell to the lot of a Roman soldier when Christ's garments were
parted among his crucifiers to the day when they came back to Mary, the
Mother of Jesus.
V.
PARSIFAL
BY H. R. HAWEIS
An intimate and appreciative description and consideration of Wagner's
great opera. Illustrated with portrait of composer and scenes from the
opera.
VI.
ESARHADDON KING OF ASSYRIA
BY LEO TOLSTOY
Three short stories, allegorical in style, illustrating with homely
simplicity, yet with classic charm, Tolstoy's theories of non-resistance
and the essential unity of all forms of life.
Written for the benefit of the Kishinef sufferers. Publisher's and
author's profits go to Kishinef Relief Fund.
VII.
THE TROUBLE WOMAN
BY CLARA MORRIS
A pathetic, even tragic tale, but one which carries the most optimistic
of messages. The unobtrusive moral of the story is that the way to find
consolation for one's own trouble is to consider those of others and to
lend a helping hand.
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers
NEW YORK & LONDON