TITUREL AND THE HOLY GRAIL.
[Sidenote: Origin of the legend.] The most mystical and spiritual of all
the romances of chivalry is doubtless the legend of the Holy Grail. Rooted
in the mythology of all primitive races is the belief in a land of peace
and happiness, a sort of earthly paradise, once possessed by man, but now
lost, and only to be attained again by the virtuous. The legend of the Holy
Grail, which some authorities declare was first known in Europe by the
Moors, and christianized by the Spaniards, was soon introduced into France,
where Robert de Borron and Chrestien de Troyes wrote lengthy poems about
it. Other writers took up the same theme, among them Walter Map, Archdeacon
of Oxford, who connected it with the Arthurian legends. It soon became
known in Germany, where, in the hands of Gottfried von Strassburg, and
especially of Wolfram von Eschenbach, it assumed its most perfect and
popular form. The "Parzival" of Eschenbach also forms the basis of a recent
work, the much-discussed last opera of the great German composer,
Wagner.[1] [Footnote 1: See Guerber's Stories of the Wagner Opera.]
The story of the Grail is somewhat confused, owing to the many changes made
by the different authors. The account here given, while mentioning the most
striking incidents of other versions, is in general an outline of the
"Titurel" and "Parzival" of Von Eschenbach.
[Sidenote: The Holy Grail.] When Lucifer was cast out of heaven, one stone
of great beauty as detached from the marvelous crown which sixty thousand
angels had tendered him. This stone fell upon earth, and from it was carved
a vessel of great beauty, which came, after many ages, into the hands of
Joseph of Arimathea. He offered it to the Savior, who made use of it in the
Last Supper. When the blood flowed from the Redeemer's side, Joseph of
Arimathea caught a few drops of it in this wonderful vessel; and, owing to
this circumstance, it was thought to be endowed with marvelous powers.
"Wherever it was there were good things in abundance. Whoever looked upon
it, even though he were sick unto death, could not die that week; whoever
looked at it continually, his cheeks never grew pale, nor his hair gray."
Once a year, on the anniversary of the Savior's death, a white dove brought
a fresh host down from heaven, and placed it on the vessel, which was borne
by a host of angels, or by spotless virgins. The care of it was at times
intrusted to mortals, who, however, had to prove themselves worthy of this
exalted honor by leading immaculate lives. This vessel, called the "Holy
Grail," remained, after the crucifixion, in the hands of Joseph of
Arimathea. The Jews, angry because Joseph had helped to bury Christ, cast
him into a dungeon, and left him there for a whole year without food or
drink. Their purpose in doing so was to slay Joseph, as they had already
slain Nicodemus, so that should the Romans ever ask them to produce
Christ's body, they might declare that it had been stolen by Joseph of
Arimathea.
The Jews little suspected, however, that Joseph, having the Holy Grail with
him, could suffer no lack. When Vespasian, the Roman emperor, heard the
story of Christ's passion, as related by a knight who had just returned
from the Holy Land, he sent a commission to Jerusalem to investigate the
matter and bring back some holy relic to cure his son Titus of leprosy.
In due time the ambassadors returned, giving Pilate's version of the story,
and bringing with them an old woman (known after her death as St.
Veronica). She produced the cloth with which she had wiped the Lord's face,
and upon which his likeness had been stamped by miracle. The mere sight of
this holy relic sufficed to restore Titus, who now proceeded with Vespasian
to Jerusalem. There they vainly tried to compel the Jews to produce the
body of Christ, until one of them revealed, under pressure of torture, the
place where Joseph was imprisoned. Vespasian proceeded in person to the
dungeon, and was hailed by name by the perfectly healthy prisoner. Joseph
was set free, but, fearing further persecution from the Jews, soon departed
with his sister, Enigée, and her husband, Brons, for a distant land. The
pilgrims found a place of refuge near Marseilles, where the Holy Grail
supplied all their needs, until one of them committed a sin. Then divine
displeasure became manifest by a terrible famine.
As none knew who had sinned, Joseph was instructed in a vision to discover
the culprit by the same means with which the Lord had revealed the guilt of
Judas. Still following divine commands, Joseph made a table, and directed
Brons to catch a fish. The Grail was placed before Joseph's seat at table,
where all who implicitly believed were invited to take a seat. Eleven seats
were soon occupied, and only Judas's place remained empty. Moses, a
hypocrite and sinner, attempted to sit there, but the earth opened wide
beneath him and ingulfed him.
In another vision Joseph was now informed that the vacancy would only be
filled on the day of doom. He was also told that a similar table would be
constructed by Merlin. Here the grandson of Brons would honorably occupy
the vacant place, which is designated in the legend as the "Siege
Perilous," because it proved fatal to all for whom it was not intended.
In the "Great St. Grail," one of the longest poems on this theme, there are
countless adventures and journeys, "transformations of fair females into
foul fiends, conversions wholesale and individual, allegorical visions,
miracles, and portents. Eastern splendor and northern weirdness, angelry
and deviltry, together with abundant fighting and quite a phenomenal amount
of swooning, which seem to reflect a strange medley of Celtic, pagan, and
mythological traditions, and Christian legends and mysticism, alternate in
a kaleidoscopic maze that defies the symmetry which modern aesthetic canons
associate with every artistic production."
The Holy Grail was, we are further told, transported by Joseph of Arimathea
to Glastonbury, where it long remained visible, and whence it vanished only
when men became too sinful to be permitted to retain it in their midst.
[Sidenote: Birth of Titurel.] Another legend relates that a rich man from
Cappadocia, Berillus, followed Vespasian to Rome, where he won great
estates. He was a very virtuous man, and his good qualities were inherited
by all his descendants. One of them, called Titurisone, greatly regretted
having no son to continue his race. When advised by a soothsayer to make a
pilgrimage to the holy sepulcher, and there to lay a crucifix of pure gold
upon the altar, the pious Titurisone hastened to do so. On his return he
was rewarded for his pilgrimage by the birth of a son, called Titurel.
This child, when he had attained manhood, spent all his time in warring
against the Saracens, as all pagans are called in these metrical romances.
The booty he won he gave either to the church or to the poor, and his
courage and virtue were only equaled by his piety and extreme humility.
One day, when Titurel was walking alone in the woods, he was favored by the
vision of an angel. The celestial messenger sailed down to earth out of the
blue, and announced in musical tones that the Lord had chosen him to be the
guardian of the Holy Grail on Montsalvatch (which some authors believe to
have been in Spain), and that it behooved him to set his house in order and
obey the voice of God.
When the angel had floated upward and out of sight, Titurel returned home.
After disposing of all his property, reserving nothing but his armor and
trusty sword, he again returned to the spot where he had been favored with
the divine message. There he saw a mysterious white cloud, which seemed to
beckon him onward. Titurel followed it, passed through vast solitudes and
almost impenetrable woods, and eventually began to climb a steep mountain,
whose ascent at first seemed impossible. Clinging to the rocks, and gazing
ever ahead at the guiding cloud, Titurel came at last to the top of the
mountain, where, in a beam of refulgent light, he beheld the Holy Grail,
borne in the air by invisible hands. He raised his heart in passionate
prayer that he might be found worthy to guard the emerald-colored wonder
which was thus intrusted to his care, and in his rapture hardly heeded the
welcoming cries of a number of knights in shining armor, who hailed him as
their king.
The vision of the Holy Grail was as evanescent as beautiful, and soon
disappeared; but Titurel, knowing that the spot was holy, guarded it with
all his might against the infidels, who would fain have climbed the
mountain.
After several years had passed without the Holy Grail's coming down to
earth, Titurel conceived the plan of building a temple suitable for its
reception. The knights who helped to build and afterward guarded this
temple were called "Templars." Their first effort was to clear the mountain
top, which they found was one single onyx of enormous size. This they
leveled and polished until it shone like a mirror, and upon this foundation
they prepared to build their temple.
[Sidenote: Temple of the Holy Grail.] As Titurel was hesitating what plan
to adopt for the building, he prayed for guidance, and when he arose on the
morrow he found the ground plan all traced out and the building materials
ready for use. The knights labored piously from morning till night, and
when they ceased, invisible hands continued to work all night. Thus pushed
onward, the work was soon completed, and the temple rose on the mountain
top in all its splendor. "The temple itself was one hundred fathoms in
diameter. Around it were seventy-two chapels of an octagonal shape. To
every pair of chapels there was a tower six stories high, approachable by a
winding stair on the outside. In the center stood a tower twice as big as
the others, which rested on arches. The vaulting was of blue sapphire, and
in the center was a plate of emerald, with the lamb and the banner of the
cross in enamel. All the altar stones were of sapphire, as symbols of the
propitiation of sins. Upon the inside of the cupola surmounting the temple,
the sun and moon were represented in diamonds and topazes, and shed a light
as of day even in the darkness of the night. The windows were of crystal,
beryl, and other transparent stones. The floor was of translucent crystal,
under which all the fishes of the sea were carved out of onyx, just like
life. The towers were of precious stones inlaid with gold; their roofs of
gold and blue enamel. Upon every tower there was a crystal cross, and upon
it a golden eagle with expanded wings, which, at a distance, appeared to be
flying. At the summit of the main tower was an immense carbuncle, which
served, like a star, to guide the Templars thither at night. In the center
of the building, under the dome, was a miniature representation, of the
whole, and in this the holy vessel was kept."
[Sidenote: Descent of the Holy Grail.] When all the work was finished, the
temple was solemnly consecrated, and as the priests chanted the psalms a
sweet perfume filled the air, and the holy vessel was seen to glide down on
a beam of light. While it hovered just above the altar the wondering
assembly heard the choir of the angels singing the praises of the Most
High. The Holy Grail, which had thus come down upon earth, was faithfully
guarded by Titurel and his knights, who were fed and sustained by its
marvelous power, and whose wounds were healed as soon as they gazed upon
it. From time to time it also delivered a divine message, which appeared in
letters of fire inscribed about its rim, and which none of the Templars
ever ventured to disregard.
By virtue of the miraculous preservative influence of the Holy Grail,
Titurel seemed but forty when he was in reality more than four hundred
years old. His every thought had been so engrossed by the care of the
precious vessel that he was somewhat surprised when he read upon its rim a
luminous command to marry, so that his race might not become extinct. When
the knights of the temple had been summoned, and had all perused the divine
command, they began to consider where a suitable helpmate could be found
for their beloved king. They soon advised him to woe Richoude, the daughter
of a Spaniard. An imposing embassy was sent to the maiden, who, being
piously inclined, immediately consented to the marriage.
Richoude was a faithful wife for twenty years, and when she died she left
two children,--a son, Frimoutel, and a daughter, Richoude,--to comfort the
sorrowing Titurel for her loss. These children both married in their turn,
and Frimoutel had two sons, Amfortas and Trevrezent, and three daughters,
Herzeloide, Josiane, and Repanse de Joie. As these children grew up,
Titurel became too old to bear the weight of his armor, and spent all his
days in the temple, where he finally read on the Holy Grail a command to
anoint Frimoutel king. Joyfully the old man obeyed, for he had long felt
that the defense of the Holy Grail should be intrusted to a younger man
than he.
[Sidenote: Birth of Parzival.] Although he renounced the throne in favor of
his son, Titurel lived on, witnessed the marriage of Josiane, and mourned
for her when she died in giving birth to a little daughter, called Sigune.
This child, being thus deprived of a mother's care, was intrusted to
Herzeloide, who brought her up with Tchionatulander, the orphaned son of a
friend. Herzeloide married a prince named Gamuret, and became the happy
mother of Parzival, who, however, soon lost his father in a terrible
battle.
Fearful lest her son, when grown up, should want to follow his father's
example, and make war against even the most formidable foes, Herzeloide
carried him off into the forest of Soltane (which some authors locate in
Brittany), and there brought him up in complete solitude and ignorance.
"The child her falling tears bedew;
No wife was ever found more true.
She teemed with joy and uttered sighs;
And tears midst laughter filled her eyes
Her heart delighted in his birth;
In sorrow deep was drowned her mirth."
WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH, _Parzival_ (Dippold's tr.).
[Illustration: PARZIVAL UNCOVERING THE HOLY GRAIL.--Pixis.]
[Sidenote: Amfortas's wound.] While she was living there, Frimoutel, weary
of the dull life on Montsalvatch, went out into the world, and died of a
lance wound when far away from home. Amfortas, his son, who was now crowned
in obedience to the command of the Holy Grail, proved equally restless, and
went out also in search of adventures. Like his father, he too was wounded
by a poisoned lance; but, instead of dying, he lived to return to the Holy
Grail. But since his wound had not been received in defense of the holy
vessel, it never healed, and caused him untold suffering.
Titurel, seeing this suffering, prayed ardently for his grandson's release
from the pain which imbittered every moment of his life, and was finally
informed by the glowing letters on the rim of the Holy Grail that a chosen
hero would climb the mountain and inquire the cause of Amfortas's pain. At
this question the evil spell would be broken, Amfortas healed, and the
newcomer appointed king and guardian of the Holy Grail.
This promise of ultimate cure saved Amfortas from utter despair, and all
the Templars lived in constant anticipation of the coming hero, and of the
question which would put an end to the torment which they daily witnessed.
[Sidenote: Parzival's early life.] Parzival, in the mean while, was growing
up in the forest, where he amused himself with a bow and arrow of his own
manufacture. But when for the first time he killed a tiny bird, and saw it
lying limp and helpless in his hand, he brought it tearfully to his mother
and inquired what it meant. In answering him she, for the first time also,
mentioned the name of God; and when he eagerly questioned her about the
Creator, she said to him: "Brighter is God than e'en the brightest day; yet
once he took the form and face of man."
Thus brought up in complete ignorance, it is no wonder that when young
Parzival encountered some knights in brilliant armor in the forest, he fell
down and offered to worship them. Amused at the lad's simplicity, the
knights told him all about the gay world of chivalry beyond the forest, and
advised him to ride to Arthur's court, where, if worthy, he would receive
the order of knighthood, and perchance be admitted to the Round Table.
Beside himself with joy at hearing all these marvelous things, and eager to
set out immediately, Parzival returned to his mother to relate what he had
seen, and to implore her to give him a horse, that he might ride after the
knights.
"'I saw four men, dear mother mine;
Not brighter is the Lord divine.
They spoke to me of chivalry;
Through Arthur's power of royalty,
In knightly honor well arrayed,
I shall receive the accolade.'"
WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH, _Parzival_ (Dippold's tr.).
The mother, finding herself unable to detain him any longer, reluctantly
consented to his departure, and, hoping that ridicule and lack of success
would soon drive him back to her, prepared for him the motley garb of a
fool and gave him a very sorry nag to ride.
"The boy, silly yet brave indeed,
Oft from his mother begged a steed.
That in her heart she did lament;
She thought: 'Him must I make content,
Yet must the thing an evil be.'
Thereafter further pondered she:
'The folk are prone to ridicule.
My child the garments of a fool
Shall on his shining body wear.
If he be scoffed and beaten there,
Perchance he'll come to me again.'"
WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH, _Parzival_ (Bayard Taylor's tr.).
[Sidenote: Parzival's journey into the world.] Thus equipped, his mind well
stored with all manner of unpractical advice given by his mother in further
hopes of making a worldly career impossible for him, the young hero set
out. As he rode away from home, his heart was filled with regret at leaving
and with an ardent desire to seek adventures abroad,--conflicting emotions
which he experienced for the first time in his life. Herzeloide accompanied
her son part way, kissed him good-by, and, as his beloved form disappeared
from view in the forest paths, her heart broke and she breathed her last!
Parzival rode onward and soon came to a meadow, in which some tents were
pitched. He saw a beautiful lady asleep in one of these tents, and,
dismounting, he wakened her with a kiss, thus obeying one of his mother's
injunctions--to kiss every fair lady he met. To his surprise, however, the
lady seemed indignant; so he tried to pacify her by telling her that he had
often thus saluted his mother. Then, slipping the bracelet from off her
arm, and carrying it away as a proof that she was not angry, he rode on.
Lord Orilus, the lady's husband, hearing from her that a youth had kissed
her, flew into a towering rage, and rode speedily away, hoping to overtake
the impudent varlet and punish him.
Parzival, in the mean while, had journeyed on, and, passing through the
forest, had seen a maiden weeping over the body of her slain lover. In
answer to his inquiries she told him that she was his cousin, Sigune, and
that the dead man, Tchionatulander, had been killed in trying to fulfill a
trifling request--to recover her pet dog, which had been stolen. Parzival
promised to avenge Tchionatulander as soon as possible, and to remember
that the name of the murderer was Orilus.
Next he came to a river, where he was ferried across, and repaid the
boatman by giving him the bracelet he had taken from Orilus's wife. Then,
hearing that Arthur was holding his court at Nantes, he proceeded thither
without further delay.
On entering the city, Parzival encountered the Red Knight, who mockingly
asked him where he was going. The unabashed youth immediately retorted, "To
Arthur's court to ask him for your arms and steed!"
[Sidenote: Parzival at Arthur's court.] A little farther on the youth's
motley garb attracted much attention, and the town boys made fun of him
until Iwanet, one of the king's squires, came to inquire the cause of the
tumult. He took Parzival under his protection, and conducted him to the
great hall, where, if we are to believe some accounts, Parzival boldly
presented himself on horseback. The sight of the gay company so dazzled the
inexperienced youth that he wonderingly inquired why there were so many
Arthurs. When Iwanet told him that the wearer of the crown was the sole
king, Parzival boldly stepped up to him and asked for the arms and steed of
the Red Knight.
Arthur wonderingly gazed at the youth, and then replied that he could have
them provided he could win them. This was enough. Parzival sped after the
knight, overtook him, and loudly bade him surrender weapons and steed. The
Red Knight, thus challenged, began to fight; but Parzival, notwithstanding
his inexperience, wielded his spear so successfully that he soon slew his
opponent. To secure the steed was an easy matter, but how to remove the
armor the youth did not know. By good fortune, however, Iwanet soon came up
and helped Parzival to don the armor. He put it on over his motley garb,
which he would not set aside because his mother had made it for him.
Some time after, Parzival came to the castle of Gurnemanz, a noble knight,
with whom he remained for some time. Here he received valuable instructions
in all a knight need know. When Parzival left this place, about a year
later, he was an accomplished knight, clad as beseemed his calling, and
ready to fulfill all the duties which chivalry imposed upon its votaries.
[Sidenote: Parzival and Conduiramour.] He soon heard that Queen
Conduiramour was hard pressed, in her capital of Belripar, by an unwelcome
suitor. As he had pledged his word to defend all ladies in distress,
Parzival immediately set out to rescue this queen. A series of brilliant
single fights disposed of the besiegers, and the citizens of Belripar, to
show their gratitude to their deliverer, offered him the hand of their
queen, Conduiramour, which he gladly accepted. But Parzival, even in this
new home, could not forget his sorrowing mother, and he soon left his wife
to go in search of Herzeloide, hoping to comfort her. He promised his wife
that he would return soon, however, and would bring his mother to Belripar
to share their joy. In the course of this journey homeward Parzival came to
a lake, where a richly dressed fisherman, in answer to his inquiry,
directed him to a neighboring castle where he might find shelter.
[Sidenote: Castle of the Holy Grail.] Although Parzival did not know it, he
had come to the temple and castle on Montsalvatch. The drawbridge was
immediately lowered at his call, and richly clad servants bade him welcome
with joyful mien. They told him that he had long been expected, and after
arraying him in a jeweled garment, sent by Queen Repanse de Joie, they
conducted him into a large, brilliantly illumined hall. There four hundred
knights were seated on soft cushions, before small tables each laid for
four guests; and as they saw him enter a flash of joy passed over their
grave and melancholy faces. The high seat was occupied by a man wrapped in
furs, who was evidently suffering from some painful disease. He made a sign
to Parzival to draw near, gave him a seat beside him, and presented him
with a sword of exquisite workmanship. To Parzival's surprise this man bade
him welcome also, and repeated that he had long been expected. The young
knight, amazed by all he heard and saw, remained silent, for he did not
wish to seem inquisitive,--a failing unworthy of a knight. Suddenly the
great doors opened, and a servant appeared bearing the bloody head of a
lance, with which he silently walked around the hall, while all gazed upon
it and groaned aloud.
The servant had scarcely vanished when the doors again opened, and
beautiful virgins came marching in, two by two. They bore an embroidered
cushion, an ebony stand, and sundry other articles, which they laid before
the fur-clad king. Last of all came the beautiful maiden, Repanse de Joie,
bearing a glowing vessel; and as she entered and laid it before the king,
Parzival heard the assembled knights whisper that this was the Holy Grail.
"Now after them advanced the Queen,
With countenance of so bright a sheen,
They all imagined day would dawn.
One saw the maiden was clothed on
With muslin stuffs of Araby.
On a green silk cushion she
The pearl of Paradise did bear.
* * * * *
The blameless Queen, proud, pure, and calm,
Before the host put down the Grail;
And Percival, so runs the tale,
To gaze upon her did not fail,
Who thither bore the Holy Grail."
WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH, _Parzival_(Bayard Taylor's
tr.).
The maidens then slowly retired, the knights and squires drew near, and now
from the shining vessel streamed forth a supply of the daintiest dishes and
richest wines, each guest being served with the viands which he liked best.
All ate sadly and in silence, while Parzival wondered what it might all
mean, yet remained mute. The meal ended, the sufferer rose from his seat,
gazed reproachfully at the visitor, who, by asking a question, could have
saved him such pain, and slowly left the room, uttering a deep sigh.
With angry glances the knights also left the hall, and sad-faced servants
conducted Parzival past a sleeping room, where they showed him an old
white-haired man who lay in a troubled sleep. Parzival wondered still more,
but did not venture to ask who it might be. Next the servants took him to
an apartment where he could spend the night. The tapestry hangings of this
room were all embroidered with gorgeous pictures. Among them the young hero
noticed one in particular, because it represented his host borne down to
the ground by a spear thrust into his bleeding side. Parzival's curiosity
was even greater than before; but, scorning to ask a servant what he had
not ventured to demand of the master, he went quietly to bed, thinking that
he would try to secure an explanation on the morrow.
When he awoke he found himself alone. No servant answered his call. All the
doors were fastened except those which led outside, where he found his
steed awaiting him. When he had passed the drawbridge it rose up slowly
behind him, and a voice called out from the tower, "Thou art accursed; for
thou hadst been chosen to do a great work, which thou hast left undone!"
Then looking upward, Parzival saw a horrible face gazing after him with a
fiendish grin, and making a gesture as of malediction.
[Sidenote: Sigune.] At the end of that day's journey, Parzival came to a
lonely cell in the desert, where he found Sigune weeping over a shrine in
which lay Tchionatulander's embalmed remains. She too received him with
curses, and revealed to him that by one sympathetic question only he might
have ended Amfortas's prolonged pain, broken an evil spell, and won for
himself a glorious crown.
Horrified, now that he knew what harm he had done, Parzival rode away,
feeling as if he were indeed accursed. His greatest wish was to return to
the mysterious castle and atone for his remissness by asking the question
which would release the king from further pain. But alas! the castle had
vanished; and our hero was forced to journey from place to place, seeking
diligently, and meeting with many adventures on the way.
At times the longing to give up the quest and return home to his young wife
was almost unendurable. His thoughts were ever with her, and the poem
relates that even a drop of blood fallen on the snow reminded, him most
vividly of the dazzling complexion of Conduiramour, and of her sorrow when
he departed.
"'Conduiramour, thine image is
Here in the snow now dyed with red
And in the blood on snowy bed.
Conduiramour, to them compare
Thy forms of grace and beauty rare.'"
WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH, _Parzival_ (Dippold's tr.).
Although exposed to countless temptations, Parzival remained true to his
wife as he rode from place to place, constantly seeking the Holy Grail. His
oft-reiterated questions concerning it caused him to be considered a madman
or a fool by all he met.
In the course of his journeys, he encountered a lady in chains, led by a
knight who seemed to take pleasure in torturing her. Taught by Gurnemanz to
rescue all ladies in distress, Parzival challenged and defeated this
knight. Then only did he discover that it was Sir Orilus, who had led his
wife about in chains to punish her for accepting a kiss from a strange
youth. Of course Parzival now hastened to give an explanation of the whole
affair, and the defeated knight, at his request, promised to treat his wife
with all kindness in future.
As Parzival had ordered all the knights whom he had defeated to journey
immediately to Arthur's court and tender him their services, the king had
won many brave warriors. He was so pleased by these constant arrivals, and
so delighted at the repeated accounts of Parzival's valor, that he became
very anxious to see him once more.
[Sidenote: Parzival knighted.] To gratify this wish several knights were
sent in search of the wanderer, and when they finally found him they bade
him come to court. Parzival obeyed, was knighted by Arthur's own hand, and,
according to some accounts, occupied the "Siege Perilous" at the Round
Table. Other versions state, however, that just as he was about to take
this seat the witch Kundrie, a messenger of the Holy Grail, appeared in the
hall. She vehemently denounced him, related how sorely he had failed in his
duty, and cursed him, as the gate keeper had done, for his lack of
sympathy. Thus reminded of his dereliction, Parzival immediately left the
hall, to renew the quest which had already lasted for many months. He was
closely followed by Gawain, one of Arthur's knights, who thought that
Parzival had been too harshly dealt with.
[Sidenote: Gawain's quest.] Four years now elapsed,--four years of penance
and suffering for Parzival, and of brilliant fighting and thrilling
adventures for Gawain. Seeking Parzival, meeting many whom he had helped or
defeated, Gawain journeyed from land to land, until at last he decided that
his quest would end sooner if he too sought the Holy Grail, the goal of all
his friend's hopes.
On the way to Montsalvatch Gawain met a beautiful woman, to whom he made a
declaration of love; but she merely answered that those who loved her must
serve her, and bade him fetch her palfrey from a neighboring garden. The
gardener told him that this lady was the Duchess Orgueilleuse; that her
beauty had fired many a knight; that many had died for her sake; and that
Amfortas, King of the Holy Grail, had braved the poisoned spear which
wounded him, only to win her favor. Gawain, undeterred by this warning,
brought out the lady's palfrey, helped her to mount, and followed her
submissively through many lands. Everywhere they went the proud lady
stirred up some quarrel, and always called upon Gawain to fight the enemies
whom she had thus wantonly made. After much wandering, Gawain and his
ladylove reached the top of a hill, whence they could look across a valley
to a gigantic castle, perched on a rock, near which was a pine tree.
Orgueilleuse now informed Gawain that the castle belonged to her mortal
enemy, Gramoflaus. She bade him bring her a twig of the tree, and conquer
the owner of the castle, who would challenge him as soon as he touched it,
and promised that if he obeyed her exactly she would be his faithful wife.
[Sidenote: Klingsor's castle.] Gawain, emboldened by this promise, dashed
down into the valley, swam across the moat, plucked a branch from the tree,
and accepted the challenge which Gramoflaus promptly offered. The meeting
was appointed for eight days later, in front of Klingsor's castle, whither
Gawain immediately proceeded with the Lady Orgueilleuse. On the way she
told him that this castle, which faced her father's, was occupied by a
magician who kept many noble ladies in close confinement, and had even
cruelly laden them with heavy chains.
Gawain, on hearing this, vowed that he would punish the magician; and,
having seen Orgueilleuse safely enter her ancestral home, he crossed the
river and rode toward Klingsor's castle. As night drew on the windows were
brilliantly illumined, and at each one he beheld the pallid, tear-stained
faces of some of the captives, whose years ranged from early childhood to
withered old age.
Calling for admittance at this castle, Gawain was allowed to enter, but, to
his surprise, found hall and court deserted. He wandered from room to room,
meeting no one; and, weary of his vain search, prepared at last to occupy a
comfortable couch in one of the chambers. To his utter amazement, however,
the bed retreated as he advanced, until, impatient at this trickery, he
sprang boldly upon it. A moment later a rain of sharp spears and daggers
fell upon his couch, but did him no harm, for he had not removed his heavy
armor. When the rain of weapons was over, a gigantic peasant, armed with a
huge club, stalked into the room, closely followed by a fierce lion. When
the peasant perceived that the knight was not dead, as he expected, he beat
a hasty retreat, leaving the lion to attack him alone.
In spite of the size and fury of the lion, Gawain defended himself so
bravely that he finally slew the beast, which was Klingsor in disguise. As
the monster expired the spell was broken, the captives were released, and
the exhausted Gawain was tenderly cared for by his mother and sister
Itonie, who were among those whom his courage had set free. The news of
this victory was immediately sent to Arthur, who now came to witness the
battle between Gawain and a champion who was to appear for Gramoflaus.
Gawain's strength and courage were about to give way before the stranger's
terrible onslaught, when Itonie implored the latter to spare Gawain, whose
name and valor were so well known. At the sound of this name the knight
sheathed his sword, and, raising his visor, revealed the sad but beautiful
countenance of Parzival.
The joy of reunion over, Parzival remained there long enough to witness the
marriage of Gawain and Orgueilleuse, and of Itonie and Gramoflaus, and to
be solemnly admitted to the Round Table. Still, the general rejoicing could
not dispel his sadness or the recollection of Amfortas and his grievous
wound; and as soon as possible Parzival again departed, humbly praying that
he might at last find the Holy Grail, and right the wrong he had
unconsciously done.
[Sidenote: Parzival and the hermit.] Some months later, exhausted by
constant journeys, Parzival painfully dragged himself to a hermit's hut.
There he learned that the lonely penitent was Trevrezent, the brother of
Amfortas, who, having also preferred worldly pleasures to the service of
the Holy Grail, had accompanied him on his fatal excursion. When Trevrezent
saw his brother sorely wounded, he repented of his sins, and, retiring into
the woods, spent his days and nights in penance and prayer. He told
Parzival of the expected stranger, whose question would break the evil
spell, and related how grievously he and all the Templars had been
disappointed when such a man had actually come and gone, but without
fulfilling their hopes. Parzival then penitently confessed that it was he
who had thus disappointed them, related his sorrow and ceaseless quest, and
told the story of his early youth and adventures. Trevrezent, on hearing
his guest's name, exclaimed that they must be uncle and nephew, as his
sister's name was Herzeloide. He then informed Parzival of his mother's
death, and, after blessing him and giving him some hope that sincere
repentance would sometime bring its own reward, allowed him to continue his
search for the Holy Grail.
[Sidenote: Fierefiss.] Soon after this meeting Parzival encountered a
knight, who, laying lance in rest, challenged him to fight. In one of the
pauses of the battle he learned that his brave opponent was his
stepbrother, Fierefiss, whom he joyfully embraced, and who now followed him
on his almost endless quest. At last they came to a mountain, painfully
climbed its steep side, and, after much exertion, found themselves in front
of a castle, which seemed strangely familiar to Parzival.
The doors opened, willing squires waited upon both brothers, and led them
into the great hall, where the pageant already described was repeated. When
Queen Repanse de Joie entered bearing the Holy Grail, Parzival, mindful of
his former failure to do the right thing, humbly prayed aloud for divine
guidance to bring about the promised redemption. An angel voice now seemed
to answer, "Ask!" Then Parzival bent kindly over the wounded king, and
gently inquired what ailed him. At those words the spell was broken, and a
long cry of joy arose as Amfortas, strong and well, sprang to his feet.
A very aged man, Parzival's great-grandfather, Titurel, now drew near,
bearing the crown, which he placed on the young hero's head, as he hailed
him as guardian and defender of the Holy Grail. This cry was taken up by
all present, and even echoed by the angelic choir.
"'Hail to thee, Percival, king of the Grail!
Seemingly lost forever,
Now thou art blessed forever.
Hail to thee, Percival, king of the Grail!'"
WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH (McDowall's tr.).
The doors now opened wide once more to admit Conduiramour and her twin
sons, summoned thither by the power of the Holy Grail, that Parzival's
happiness might be complete. All the witnesses of this happy reunion were
flooded with the light of the Holy Grail, except Fierefiss, who, being a
Moor and a pagan, still remained in outer darkness. These miracles,
however, converted him to the Christian faith, and made him beg for
immediate baptism. The christening was no sooner performed than he too
beheld and was illumined by the holy vase. Fierefiss, now a true believer,
married Repanse de Joie, and they were the parents of a son named John, who
became a noted warrior, and was the founder of the historic order of the
Knights Templars.
Titurel, having lived to see the recovery of his son, blessed all his
descendants, told them that Sigune had joined her lover's spirit in the
heavenly abode, and, passing out of the great hall, was never seen again;
and the witch Kundrie died of joy.
Another version of the legend of the Holy Grail relates that Parzival,
having cured his uncle, went to Arthur's court. There he remained until
Amfortas died, when he was called back to Montsalvatch to inherit his
possessions, among which was the Holy Grail. Arthur and all the knights of
the Round Table were present at his coronation, and paid him a yearly
visit. When he died, "the Sangreal, the sacred lance, and the silver
trencher or paten which covered the Grail, were carried up to the holy
heavens in presence of the attendants, and since that time have never
anywhere been seen on earth."
Other versions relate that Arthur and his knights sought the Holy Grail in
vain, for their hearts were not pure enough to behold it. Still others
declare that the sacred vessel was conveyed to the far East, and committed
to the care of Prester John.
The legend of Lohengrin, which is connected with the Holy Grail, is in
outline as follows:
[Sidenote: Lohengrin.] Parzival and Conduiramour dwelt in the castle of the
Holy Grail. When their sons had grown to man's estate, Kardeiss, the elder,
became ruler of his mother's kingdom of Belripar, while Lohengrin, the
younger, remained in the service of the Holy Grail, which was now borne
into the hall by his young sister, Aribadale, Repanse de Joie having
married.
Whenever a danger threatened, or when the services of one of the knights
were required, a silver bell rang loudly, and the letters of flame around
the rim of the holy vessel revealed the nature of the deed to be performed.
One day the sound of the silvery bell was heard pealing ever louder and
louder, and when the knights entered the hall, they read on the vase that
Lohengrin had been chosen to defend the rights of an innocent person, and
would be conveyed to his destination by a swan. As the knights of the Grail
never disputed its commands, the young man immediately donned the armor of
silver which Amfortas had worn, and, bidding farewell to his mother and
sister, left the temple. Parzival, his father, accompanied him to the foot
of the mountain, where, swimming gracefully over the smooth waters of the
lake, they saw a snowy swan drawing a little boat after her.
Lohengrin received a horn from his father, who bade him sound it thrice on
arriving at his destination, and an equal number of times when he wished to
return to Montsalvatch. Then he also reminded him that a servant of the
Grail must reveal neither his name nor his origin unless asked to do so,
and that, having once made himself known, he was bound to return without
delay to the holy mountain.
Thus reminded of the custom of all the Templars, Lohengrin sprang into the
boat, and was rapidly borne away, to the sound of mysterious music.
[Sidenote: Else of Brabant.] While Lohengrin was swiftly wafted over the
waters, Else, Duchess of Brabant, spent her days in tears. She was an
orphan, and, as she possessed great wealth and extensive lands, many were
anxious to secure her hand. Among these suitors her guardian, Frederick of
Telramund, was the most importunate; and when he saw that she would never
consent to marry him, he resolved to obtain her inheritance in a different
way.
One day, while Else was wandering alone in the forest, she rested for a
moment under a tree, where she dreamed that a radiant knight came to greet
her, and offered her a little bell, saying that she need but ring it
whenever she required a champion. The maiden awoke, and as she opened her
eyes a falcon came gently sailing down from the sky and perched upon her
shoulder. Seeing that he wore a tiny bell like the one she had noticed in
her dream, Else unfastened it; and as the falcon flew away, she hung it on
her rosary.
A few days later Else was in prison, for Frederick of Telramund had accused
her of a great crime. He said that she had received the attentions of a man
beneath her, or, according to another version, that she had been guilty of
the murder of her brother. Henry the Fowler, Emperor of Germany, hearing of
this accusation, came to Cleves, where, as the witnesses could not agree,
he ordered that the matter should be settled by a judicial duel.
[Illustration: ARRIVAL OF LOHENGRIN.--Pixis.]
Frederick of Telramund, proud of his strength, challenged any man to prove
him mistaken at the point of the sword. But no champion appeared to fight
for Else, who, kneeling in her cell, beat her breast with her rosary, until
the little silver bell attached to it rang loudly as she fervently prayed,
"O Lord, send me a champion." The faint tinkling of the bell floated out of
the window, and was wafted away to Montsalvatch. It grew louder and louder
the farther it traveled, and its sound called the knights into the temple,
where Lohengrin received his orders from the Holy Grail.
The day appointed for the duel dawned, and just as the heralds sounded the
last call for Else's champion to appear, the swan boat glided up the Rhine,
and Lohengrin sprang into the lists, after thrice blowing his magic horn.
[Sidenote: Else rescued by Lohengrin.] With a God-sent champion opposed to
a liar, the issue of the combat could not long remain doubtful. Soon
Frederick of Telramund lay in the dust and confessed his guilt, while the
people hailed the Swan Knight as victor. Else, touched by his prompt
response to her appeal, and won by his passionate wooing, then consented to
become his wife, without even knowing his name. Their nuptials were
celebrated at Antwerp, whither the emperor went with them and witnessed
their marriage.
Lohengrin had cautioned Else that she must never ask his name; but she
wished to show that he was above the people who, envying his lot, sought to
injure him by circulating malicious rumors, so she finally asked the fatal
question. Regretfully Lohengrin led her into the great hall, where, in the
presence of the assembled knights, he told her that he was Lohengrin, son
of Parzival, the guardian of the Holy Grail. Then, embracing her tenderly,
he told her that "love cannot live without faith," and that he must now
leave her and return to the holy mountain. When he had thrice blown his
magic horn, the sound of faint music again heralded the approach of the
swan; Lohengrin sprang into the boat, and soon vanished, leaving Else
alone.
Some versions of the story relate that she did not long survive his
departure, but that her released spirit followed him to Montsalvatch, where
they dwelt happy forever. Other accounts, however, aver that when Lohengrin
vanished Else's brother returned to champion her cause and prevent her ever
being molested again.