Parsifal by Retold by Oliver Huckel
R >>
Retold by Oliver Huckel >> Parsifal
PARSIFAL: A DRAMA BY WAGNER
RETOLD BY OLIVER HUCKEL
BOOKS BY DR. HUCKEL
MENTAL MEDICINE
Some practical suggestions from a spiritual
standpoint
(Cloth, $1.00 net)
THE MELODY OF GOD'S LOVE
An interpretation of the Twenty-Third Psalm
(Cloth, 75 cts. net)
WAGNER'S MUSIC DRAMAS
Retold in English Verse
PARSIFAL
TANNHAeUSER
LOHENGRIN
RHEINGOLD
WALKUeRE
(Each, cloth, 75 cents net)
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
[Illustration]
Parsifal
A MYSTICAL DRAMA BY RICHARD WAGNER RETOLD IN THE SPIRIT OF THE BAYREUTH
INTERPRETATION BY
Oliver Huckel
MDCCCCX
1903
T.Y. Crowell & Co.
Composition and plates by D.B. Updike
To my Wife
IN LOVING MEMORY OF BAYREUTH DAYS
O.H.
CONTENTS
FOREWORD
PART I
The Coming of Parsifal
PART II
The Tempting of Parsifal
PART III
The Crowning of Parsifal
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Parsifal in Quest of the Holy Grail
Monsalvat, the Castle of the Grail
The Communion of the Holy Grail
Parsifal healing King Amfortas
Parsifal revealing the Holy Grail
ILLUSTRATED BY FRANZ STASSEN
FOREWORD
The Parsifal of Richard Wagner was not only the last and loftiest work
of his genius, but it is also one of the few great dramas of modern
times,--a drama which unfolds striking and impressive spiritual
teachings. Indeed, Parsifal may be called Richard Wagner's great
confession of faith. He takes the legend of the Holy Grail, and uses it
to portray wonderfully and thrillingly the Christian truths of the
beauty, the glory, and the inspiring power of the Lord's Supper, and the
infinite meaning of the redeeming love of the Cross. He reveals in this
drama by poetry and music, and with a marvellous breadth and depth of
spiritual conception, this theme (in his own words): "The founder of the
Christian religion was not wise: He was divine. To believe in Him is to
imitate Him and to seek union with Him.... In consequence of His atoning
death, everything which lives and breathes may know itself redeemed....
Only love rooted in sympathy and expressed in action to the point of a
complete destruction of self-will, is Christian love." (Wagner's
Letters, 1880, pages 270, 365, 339.)
The criticism has sometimes been made that the basic religious idea of
Parsifal is Buddhistic rather than Christian; that it is taken directly
from the philosophy of Schopenhauer, who was perhaps as nearly a
Buddhist as was possible for an Occidental mind to be; that the
dominating idea in Parsifal is compassion as the essence of sanctity,
and that Wagner has merely clothed this fundamental Buddhistic idea with
the externals of Christian form and symbolism. This criticism is
ingenious. It may also suggest that all great religions in their essence
have much which is akin. But no one who reads carefully Wagner's own
letters during the time that he was brooding over his Parsifal can doubt
that he was trying in this drama to express in broadest and deepest way
the essentials of Christian truth. Christianity has no need to go to
Buddhism to find such a fundamental conception as that of an infinite
compassion as a revelation of God.
The legend of the Grail, as Wagner uses it, has in it the usual
accompaniments of mediaeval tradition,--something of paganism and magic.
But these pagan elements are only contrasts to the purity and splendor
of the simple Christian truth portrayed. The drama suggests the early
miracle and mystery plays of the Christian Church; but more nearly,
perhaps, it reminds one of those great religious dramas, scenic and
musical, which were given at night at Eleusis, near Athens, in the
temple of the Mysteries, before the initiated ones among the Greeks in
the days of Pericles and Plato. Here at Bayreuth the mystic drama is
given before its thousands of devout pilgrims and music-lovers who
gather to the little town as to a sacred spot from all parts of the
world,--from Russia, Italy, France, England, and America,--and who enter
into the spirit of this noble drama and feast of music as if it were a
religious festival in a temple of divine mysteries.
The sources of Wagner's story deserve a few words. The legend of the
Holy Grail took many forms during the Middle Ages. It was told in
slightly varying way in the twelfth century by the French writers Robert
de Borron and Chrestien de Troyes, and in the early thirteenth century
by Wolfram von Eschenbach in the strong German speech of Thuringia. The
substance of these legends was that the precious cup, used for the wine
at the Last Supper, and also used to receive the Saviour's blood at the
Cross, was forever after cherished as the Holy Grail. It was carried
from the Holy Land by Joseph of Arimathea and taken first to Gaul and
later to Spain to a special sanctuary among the mountains, which was
named Monsalvat. Here it was to be cherished and guarded by a holy band
of Knights of the Grail. The same legend appears in the chronicles of
Sir Thomas Malory, but instead of Gaul, early Britain is the place to
which the Grail is brought. Tennyson's "The Holy Grail" in his Idylls of
the King largely follows Sir Thomas Malory's chronicles. The American
artist Edwin A. Abbey in his masterly paintings of the Grail legend as
portrayed on the walls of the Boston Public Library, also follows
Malory. Wagner, however, uses the version of Wolfram von Eschenbach,
modifying it and spiritualizing it to suit his purposes. The German
artist Franz Stassen, from whom our illustrations are taken, has entered
with perfect appreciation into Wagner's version of the noble legend.
The following rendering of the Parsifal is not a close translation of
the text, but rather a transfusion of the spirit. It is possibly as
nearly a translation as Fitzgerald's rendition of Omar Khayyam, or
Macpherson's version of the poems of Ossian. It is what may be called a
free rendering, aiming to give the spirit rather than the language of
the original.
The mere translations of the words of Parsifal, as given in the English
texts of H. and F. Corder and M.H. Glyn, do not adequately represent the
full value of the drama. Those versions were under the necessity of a
strictly literal translation, which was further hampered in order to
make the English words fit the music, and the result was far from
satisfactory. The literal translation also unfortunately over-emphasizes
certain parts and phrases in the drama which are somewhat harsh, but
which at Bayreuth become much modified and refined, and are, therefore,
so represented in this version.
The present telling of the story will be found to use all that Wagner
has given in the words, but with the addition here and thereof
interpretative phrases, suggested by the drama itself at Bayreuth. Its
purpose is to give an interpretation, a _cumulative impression_, the
spirit of the words, music, and mystic meaning, blended together into
one story and picture. It is made after a very careful study of the
German text of Wagner for essential meanings, and after an appreciative
hearing of the great drama itself, on two occasions, at Bayreuth. We
present it in the form in which such sacred legends seem to find their
most natural English setting,--in the form made classic in Tennyson's
Idylls of the King.
It may also be interesting to note that the present version was planned
ten years ago on a first visit to Bayreuth. Critical work on the German
text and in the literature of the Parsifal legends was done later during
two years at the universities of Berlin and Oxford. But the actual work
of this translation and interpretation was done in the summer of 1902 at
Bayreuth, and in part at Nuremberg and Munich. It may also be stated
that this version is issued with the kind permission of Messrs. Schott
and Company of London, the owners of the copyright of Wagner's words and
music.
The music of Parsifal has been so often described and analyzed in
critical papers that it is not necessary here to speak of it in detail.
This word, however, may be in place. The marvellous music at Bayreuth
helped in every way in the interpretation of the drama. Every part and
phase of the thought and movement were brought forth in the various
musical motives, adding emphasis and beauty and intensity of feeling.
Now the music would whisper of the wondrous grace of the holy sacrament,
or of the sweet beauty of God's world, clothed in the radiance of Good
Friday; now it would reveal the sorrows of the gentle Herzeleide, or the
awful anguish of Amfortas, or the deep rumblings of Klingsor's black
art, or the fascinating music of the flower-maidens. Often came the pure
tones that told of the guileless One, or the strong chords of mighty
faith, or the ebb and swell of mystic bells, or the glory of the sacred
Spear. Now came the regal blasts for Parsifal, and often and through it
all, the splendid music of the Grail itself. The music was like a
fragrant atmosphere to the drama, softening and refining what was harsh,
giving a needed stress here and there, and investing the whole story
with a subtle and uplifting charm.
The drama of Parsifal teaches its own great lessons of life. Yet one or
two suggestions of interpretation may not be amiss, for it is
confessedly one of the most mystical of modern dramas. It may perchance
be considered as representing the strife between paganism and
Christianity in the early centuries of the Church,--the powers of magic
and the hot passions of the human heart contending against the advancing
power of Christian truth and the victorious might of Purity as portrayed
in the guileless hero. Or it may be considered as representing in a
mystic legend the spiritual history of Christ coming in later presence
among the sons of men and imaged in the mystic Parsifal. Wagner mentions
that this Scripture was often in his mind when writing Parsifal--"Hath
not God made foolish the wisdom of this world? The foolishness of God is
wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men." Or this,
further, it may represent, in striking and inspiring way,--that the pure
in heart shall win the victories in life; that the guileless are the
valiant sons of God; that the heart that resists evil passion and is
touched by pity for the world's woe is the heart that reincarnates the
passionate purity of the Christ and can reveal again the healing power,
the Holy Grail of God.
Those who desire to study further the mystical and spiritual meanings
will find much helpful suggestion in such books as The Argument and
Mystery of Parsifal, by Charles T. Gatty, F.S.A. (London); A Study of
Parsifal, by Alfred Gurney, M.A. (London); Parsifal,--the Finding of
Christ through Art, by A.R. Parsons (New York); or My Musical Memories,
by Rev. H.R. Haweis (chapter on "Parsifal").
It may be some time before the real Parsifal as given at Bayreuth is
fully appreciated by the English-speaking public, although shortly the
special conditions which have hitherto reserved its production to
Bayreuth alone will be released, and the great drama will be heard in
other musical centres. This version is intended to be a vivid reminder
of the drama to those who have seen it at Bayreuth, and also to give to
those who have not seen it a fuller glimpse of the majestic story than
has hitherto been possible to find in English. The genius of Wagner as a
musician has so far overshadowed all else, that his genius as a poet and
as an exquisite reteller of the old legends has not been fully
appreciated.
Galahad, as Tennyson portrays him, will always hold the first place with
English readers as the ideal knight of the Holy Grail. The matchless
diction of Tennyson has given the less perfect form of the legend a
supreme charm and beauty. But Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parsifal, as
spiritualized and humanized in Wagner's lyric drama, will be seen to be
in fuller accord with the whole cycle and development of the Grail
legends, and at the same time gives the nobler story. It is a consummate
parable of the contending passions and the heavenly aspiration, the
ineffable pity and the mystic glory, of the human heart. It portrays an
intensely human and heroic life, imaginatively identified with that of
the very Christ.
"However mediaeval the language and symbolism of Parsifal may be," says
a modern critic, "one cannot but acknowledge the simplicity and power of
the story. Its spiritual significance is universal. Whatever more it may
mean, we see clearly that the guileless knight is Purity, Kundry is the
Wickedness of the world expressed in its most enticing form, and King
Amfortas suffering with his open wound is Humanity. One cannot read the
drama without a thrill, without a clutching at the heart, at its
marvellous meaning, its uplifting and ennobling lessons."
O.H.
Baltimore, Maryland, January 7th, 1903.
PARSIFAL. PART I
THE COMING OF PARSIFAL
Within a noble stretch of mountain woods,
Primeval forest, deep and dark and grand,
There rose a glorious castle towering high,--
And at its foot a smiling, shimmering lake
Lay in the still lap of a verdant glade.
'T was daybreak, and the arrows of the dawn
Were shot in golden glory through the trees,
And from the castle came a trumpet blast
To waken life in all the slumbering host,--
Warriors and yeomen in the castle halls.
And at the trumpet Gurnemanz rose up,--
Ancient and faithful servant of the Grail,--
Who sleeping lay under a spreading oak,
And called aloud to two youths sleeping yet:
"Hey! ho! ye foresters, loving the woods,
Loving your sleep as well. Wake with the day!
Hear ye the trumpet! Come, let us thank God
That we have power to hear the call of life,
And power to answer as the duty calls!"
And up they started, knelt in prayer with him,
And offered unto God their morning praise.
Then Gurnemanz: "Up now, my gallant youths,
Prepare the royal bath, and wait the King!...
Behold, his litter now is coming forth,
I see the heralds coming on before....
Hail, royal heralds! Hail and welcome both!
How fares my Lord Amfortas' health to-day?
I hope his early coming to the bath
Doth presage nothing worse. I fain had thought
The healing herb that Sir Gawain had found
With wisest skill and bravest deed might bring
Some quick and sure relief unto the King."
To whom the herald-knight did make reply:
"Thou knowest all of this dread secret wound,--
The shame, the sorrow, and the depth of it,
Its evil cause and the dark curse upon it,--
And yet forsooth thou seemest still to hope?...
The healing herb no soothing brought, nor peace.
All night the sleepless King has tossed in pain,
Longing for morning and the cooling bath."
Then Gurnemanz, downcast and saddened, said:
"Yea, it is useless, hoping thus to ease
The pain unless we use the one sure cure,--
Naught else avails although we search the world.
Only one healer and one healing thing
Can staunch the gaping wound and save the King."
And eagerly the herald asked: "What cure is this,
And who the healer that can save the King?"
But Gurnemanz quick answered: "See the bath
Is needing thee, for here doth come the King!"
But as he spake, e'er yet the King appeared,
Another herald, looking far away,
Beheld a woman coming, riding wild,
And quick exclaimed: "See there, a flying witch!
Ha! how the devil's mare is racing fast
With madly flying mane! Nearer she comes!...
'Tis Kundry, wretched Kundry, mad old Kundry--
Perhaps she brings us urgent news? Who knows?
The mare is staggering with weariness,--
No wonder, for its flight was through the air,--
But now it nears the ground, and seems to brush
The moss with sweeping mane. And now, look ye!
The wild witch flings herself from off the mare
And rushes toward us!"
And Kundry came,
Her dark eyes flashing wildly, piercing bright;
Her black hair loose; her rude garb looser still,
Yet partly bound with glittering skins of snakes;
And panting, staggering ran to Gurnemanz,
And thrust into his hands a crystal flask
With the scant whisper, "Balsam--for the King!"
And on his asking, "Whence this healing balm?"
She answered: "Farther than thy thought can guess.
For if this balsam fail, then Araby
Hath nothing further for the King's relief.
Ask me no further. I am weak and worn."
And now the litter of the King drew near,
Attended by a retinue of knights.
High on the couch the King Amfortas lay,
His pale face lined with suffering and care;
And looking toward the King, then Gurnemanz
Spake with his own sad heart: "He comes, my King,--
A helpless burden to his servitors.
Alas, alas! That these mine eyes should see
The sovereign of a strong and noble race,
Now in the very flower and prime of life,
Brought low, and made a bounden slave
Unto a shameful and a stubborn sickness!...
Ye servitors, be careful of this couch!
Careful! Set down the litter tenderly!
I hear the King, our Master, groan in pain."
Then they set down the couch, and soon the King,
Raising himself a little, spake to them:
"My loving thanks, sir knights. Rest here awhile.
How sweet this morning and these fragrant woods
To one who tossed the weary night in pain.
And this pure lake with all its freshening waves
Will lighten pain and brighten my dark woe.
Where is my dear Gawain?"
And one spake up:
"My Lord Gawain has hasted quick away.
For when the healing herb that he had brought
After such daring toils, did disappoint,
Then he set forth upon another quest."
Then said the King: "Without our word?
Alas that he should go on useless quests
And seem to do despite unto the Grail!
For it is ordered by divine command
That I should suffer for my grievous sin,
And naught can help me but one single thing.
O woe, if in his far-off quests for me
He is ensnared by Klingsor's hateful arts!
I pray you, sirs, venture no more for me,--
It only breaks my peace, and grieves my heart.
Naught will avail. I only wait for Him,--
'_By pity 'lightened._' Was not this the word?"
And Gurnemanz: "So thou hast said to us."
And softly yet spake on the suffering King:
"'_The guileless One._' Methinks I know him now!
His name is Death, for only Death can free me!"
Then Gurnemanz to ease the King's sad thoughts
Held forth the crystal flask with soothing words:
"Nay, nay, my King. Essay once more a cure,--
A balsam brought for thee from Araby."
And the King asked: "Whence came this balsam flask,
So strange in form, and who has brought it here?"
And Gurnemanz: "There lies the woman now!
The wild-eyed Kundry, weak and weary-worn,
As if the journey sapped her very life....
Up, Kundry! Here's his majesty the King!"
But Kundry would not rise, or could not else.
Then spake the King: "O Kundry, restless, strange,
Am I again thy debtor for such help?
Yet I will try thy balsam for my wound,
And for thy service take my grateful thanks."
But Kundry muttered: "Give no thanks to me.
What will it help,--or this, or e'en the bath?
And yet, away, I say! On to the bath!"
Then the King left her, lying on the ground,
And off he moved upon the couch of pain,
Longing to bathe him in the shining lake,
Hoping against all hope to ease his soul,
And quiet in his body the fierce pains.
And one spake up: "Why lies that woman there,--
A foul and snarling thing on holy ground?
Methinks her healing balm is witching drug
To work a further poison in the King....
She hates us! See her now! How hellishly
She looks at us with hot and spiteful eyes!
She is a heathen witch and sorceress!"
But Gurnemanz, who knew her well, replied:
"What harm has ever come to you from her?
And oft she serves us in the kindliest ways.
For when we want a messenger to send
To distant lands where warrior-knights in fight
Are serving God, she quick takes up the task;
Before you scarcely know is gone and back.
A marvel is her wondrous speed of flight.
Nor does she ask your help at any time,
Nor tire you with her presence, nor her words.
But in the hour of danger, she is near,--
Inspiring by her brave and fiery zeal,
Nor asking of you all one word of thanks.
Methinks a curse may still be on her life,--
She is so wild and strange, so sad her very eyes.
But now, whate'er the past, she is with us,
And serves us to atone for earlier guilt.
Perchance her work may shrive her of her sins.
Surely she does full well to serve us well,
And in the serving-help herself and us."
Then spake again a knight: "Perchance her guilt
It was, that brought calamity on all our land."
But Gurnemanz: "My thought of her goes far
In memory to days and years long past.
And it was always when she was away
And we alone, that sudden mishap fell.
This I have seen through many, many years.
The aged King, our Titurel beloved,
He knew her well for many years beyond.
'Twas he who found her sleeping in these woods,
All stiff and rigid, pale and seeming dead,
When he was building yonder castle-towers.
And so did I myself, in recent days,
Find her asleep and rigid in the woods,--
'Twas when calamity on us had come
So evil and so shameful from our foe,--
That dread magician of the mountain heights.
Say, Kundry, wake and answer me this word?
Where hadst thou been in those dark evil days,--
At home, afar, awake or fast asleep,--
When our good King did lose the holy Spear?
Why were you not at hand to give us help?"
And Kundry muttered: "Never do I help!"
Then said a knight: "O brother Gurnemanz,
If she is now so true in serving us,
And if she does such strange and wondrous deeds,
Then send her for the missing holy Spear
For which the King and all the land are fain."
But Gurnemanz with gloomy looks replied:
"That were a quest beyond her, beyond all--
That lies within the guarded will of God.
O how my heart leaps up in memory
Of that blest symbol of the Saviour's power!
O wounding, healing, wonder-working Spear,
Companion of the Grail in grace divine,
A radiant shaft for consecrated hands.
What saw I? Hands unholy snatched thee up,
And sought to wield thee in unholy ways.
I see it all again,--that dark and fatal day
When our good King Amfortas, all too bold,
Forgetful of the evil in the world,
Went straying far out from the castle walls,
And loitered through the green and shady woods;
And there he met a woman passing fair,
With great eyes that bewitched him with their light,
And as he stayed and lost his heart to her,
He lost the Spear. For on a sudden came
Athwart them that foul-hearted, fallen knight,
The evil-minded Klingsor, and he snatched
The holy Spear and mocking rushed away.
Then broke an awful cry from the King's lips;
I heard and hurrying fought the evil knight,
As did the King, parrying blow on blow,
And at the last the King fell wounded sore
By that same Spear that once was holy health.
This is the fatal wound that burns his side,--
This wound it is that ne'er will close again."
And when the knights asked further of the deed
And what of Klingsor, the foul-hearted knight,
Then Gurnemanz sat down and told this tale,--
The four young knights ensconced around his feet,--
"Our holy Titurel knew Klingsor well.
For in the ancient days when savage foes
Distressed the kingdom with their heathen craft,
One mystic midnight came a messenger
Of God to Titurel, and gave to him
The Holy Grail, the vessel lustrous pure,
Wherein the crimson wine blushed rosy-red
At that Last Supper of the feast of love;
Wherein the later wine of His own blood
Was caught and cherished from the cruel Cross.
This gave the angel unto holy Titurel
And with it gave the radiant sacred Spear
That pierced the side and broke the suffering heart
Of Him, our heavenly Saviour on the Cross,
So that the water and the blood flowed forth
In mingled tide,--the sacrifice of love.
And for these precious witnesses of God
That told to men of saving-health and power,
The holy Titurel did build an holy house,--
A sanctuary-stronghold on the heights
Of Monsalvat, forever given to God.
And ye, blest servants of the Holy Grail,
Ye know the sacred ways by which ye came
Into this holy service. Ye gave all
And purified your lives and hearts to God.
And with the consecration came the power,
By vision of the Grail, to do high deeds
And live the life of warriors of God.
This Klingsor came to holy Titurel
And asked to come into the company.
Long had he lived in yonder heathen vale
Alone, and shunned by all his kind.
I never knew what sin had stained his heart,
Or why he sought the castle of the Grail;
But holy Titurel discerned his heart
And saw the festering evil of his life,
And knew unholy purpose filled his soul
And steadfastly refused him at the gates.
Whereat in wrath the evil Klingsor swore
That if he could not serve the Holy Grail,
The Holy Grail should serve him by its power;
And he would seize it in his own right hand,
And some day be the master of them all.
Henceforth he waged a subtle, ceaseless war
Against Monsalvat and the holy knights.
He gave himself to dark and evil life
And learned the witchery of magic arts
To work the ruin of the Holy Grail.
Fair gardens he created by his art,
Through all the deserts, and therein he placed
Maidens of winsome witchery and power,
Who bloomed like flowers in beauty and in grace.
And in these subtle snares full many a knight
Was caught by magic wiles and lured and lost,
And no one knew where they had gone or why.
Then holy Titurel, grown old in years,
Gave up the kingdom to his only son,
The brave Amfortas. And by ceaseless quest
Amfortas learned the truth and waged fierce war
Against this Klingsor, evil to the heart,
Until at last in one unguarded moment,
As I have told you, e'en our noble King,
The good Amfortas, yielded to a sin,--
And lost the Spear, and had his fatal wound.
Now with the Spear within his evil grasp
Klingsor exults, and mockingly does tell
How his black fingers soon will hold the Grail."