vales; they will be lost in the quagmire, and follow not the true guiding light of religion, but the wandering fires which lure the traveller to destruction.

Here we have some of the truth suggested by this idyll, the danger of abandoning the field of daily work and duty for the pursuit after that which is marvellous and supernatural. It is not against Superstition, as some have supposed, that this teaching is directed: that is attacked in Balin and Balan in the representation of King Pellam, who in his old age finds himself descended from Arimathæan Joseph, gives himself up to the collection of relics, and retiring from the world, leaves the care of his kingdom to his son, who is a libertine and a murderer. We are not to suppose that the Quest of the Grail is a mere superstitious extravagance: those for whom it becomes a quest of purity and of spiritual strength are by it confirmed and strengthened; and although it is true that for the rest, who see in the heavenly vision only a miracle to marvel at, the vow of the Quest is profitless or worse, this is more because they are themselves without spirituality than because the religious enthusiasm by which they are in part affected is in itself an evil thing. Perilous it may be, as to sit in Merlin's chair was perilous, but perilous for good as well as for evil. The teaching really is this,-that religious impulses like other impulses must be chastened and kept within due bounds: we must not expect to have the vision with us always, as it was with Galahad, 1

เ

'But tasks in hours of insight will'd

Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd.'

The true ideal for humanity is to work in the field of

appointed daily duty, and then when the day's task is done,

'Let visions of the night or of the day
Come, as they will.'

Those who leave the 'trivial round' and endeavour to walk by some higher path of enthusiasm may achieve their purpose, but only on condition that they can utterly cast away the thought of self and lose themselves entirely in their spiritual calling.

Such being the idea round which the incidents of the poem group themselves, it is impossible to agree with those who hold that the idyll of The Holy Grail is deficient in unity. As well might it be said that the Pilgrim's Progress lacks unity because the fortunes of several persons are dealt with in it, and because more than one of the persons mentioned attains the goal which is aimed at. It is perfectly true that Galahad, Percivale, and Arthur himself may each independently be regarded as heroes of the poem, but it is not necessary to the unity of a poem that it should have a single hero that in which unity more truly consists is the idea which informs the incidents and gives them life, rather than the personality of one particular actor on the scene. Let us note therefore how the incidents are each of them related to the central idea.

:

The story begins with the adventure of the Siege perilous. There is no need here to press the symbolism. very closely and to say, as has been said, that the chair fashioned and curiously carved by Merlin represents Knowledge and is perilous for good and ill because the acquisition of knowledge involves increased capacities and responsibilities. For whoever sits in

b

He

the chair cannot remain as he was before. must go forward to higher perfection, or backward to deeper failure' (Elsdale, Studies in the Idylls, p. 63). This is hardly satisfactory, for if knowledge has a place here at all, it is not so much intellectual as moral insight which is needed, such insight as Wagner's Parsifal gains through temptation, and it is hardly conceivable that the poet meant to represent Galahad, the boy knight, as entering suddenly upon the inheritance of Merlin's accumulated stores of knowledge, and so losing himself to save himself. Rather let us go back to the legend according to which the vacant seat represented that occupied by Christ Himself at the Last Supper with His apostles, and therefore it was presumption to be punished with destruction if any sat in it except those for whom it was destined. Those then who set themselves as a guiding light to men in matters of the highest spiritual import, if they cannot entirely cast away self are lost, as Merlin was lost; but when the promised deliverer appears who sacrifices himself wholly for men, then, as in the time of the Saviour, comes the year of miracles.

He

Arthur's sorrowful warning against the prevailing enthusiasm strikes the keynote of the poem. admits the Quest for such as are capable of attaining the highest moral ideal, of losing themselves wholly to save themselves, for the Galahads and Percivales among his knights, but for the rest it will be waste of the energies which might be given to a work lying nearer to their hands; yet their vows are sacred, and they must go. It is needless to follow Galahad in his Quest: his is the career of the inspired enthusiast, to whom no doubts

or hesitations come, who has the divine vision always with him, and is so assured of victory that defeat is impossible to him. On the events of his Quest the poem dwells little, but nothing can exceed the magnificence of the passage in which is described its triumphant conclusion. Nor again need the poet say much of those whose Quest was a hopeless failure from the first. The interest is concentrated on Percivale and Lancelot, and especially Percivale, who is the narrator of the whole.

Percivale went forth rejoicing and lifted up in heart, as he thought of his late prowess in the lists, and he felt absolute confidence that he should succeed in the Quest. Then came over him like a driving gloom the dark warning of the King, and all the evil deeds and thoughts and words of his life arose and cried against him, 'This Quest is not for thee.' And suddenly he found himself in a desert of sand and thorns, and thirsty unto death, so that he too cried, 'This Quest is not for thee.' Conviction of sin has come upon him, but this is hardly a step towards that which he has to learn, renunciation of self He rides on and comes to deep lawns and a freshly running brook, and apple-trees with apples fallen by the brook. He says 'I will rest here, I am not worthy of the Quest,' but even as he drinks of the brook and eats the apples, all these things fall into dust and he is left thirsting in a land of sand and thorns. The gratification of sensual appetite cannot satisfy him, the thirst of his soul continues. Then successively we see how domestic comfort, wealth, fame, and even love fail to bring him content, until at length dropping into a lowly vale he finds a hermit to whom he tells his phantoms, and who

tells him that what he lacks is humility, the mother of all the virtues: he has thought first of his prowess and then of his sins, but he has not lost himself to save himself, like Galahad. The lesson is learnt at last, and he is joined with Galahad and cares for nought else on earth. Caught by the enthusiasm of his companion he believes as he believes, and after seeing the triumph of his end, cares only to pass out of the world into the quiet life.

Lancelot's case is different: he has a harder task to perform, the task of tearing asunder in himself the noble growth of knightly virtue and that evil plant of passion which has been intertwined with it so closely. For him there is first madness, and defeat suffered from men who would once have been scared at the mere motion of his sword. Then he comes in his madness to the naked shore, where nothing but coarse grasses grow, and the storm of conflict drives him for seven days over the troubled sea. At length he touches shore, and by trusting not in his own strength but in the divine help he enters for a time a haven of rest, lonely and bare indeed, but showing through its windows the serene light of the full moon shining over the rolling sea, while from the topmost tower to the eastward comes the sound of a sweet voice singing. There is rest and hope then even for him. Up the thousand steps he climbs with pain, and at length he reaches a door through which a light shines and voices of praise sound. Here at last is the very shrine of the holy vessel, and madly he endeavours to press through towards it. But he is struck down and blinded by a blast as from a seven-times-heated furnace, and though