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Last Supper was eaten, was taken by a Jew to Pilate, who gave it to Joseph of Arimathea, whom he knew to be one of the Saviour's devoted friends. When Joseph took the body of the Lord down from the cross he washed the wounds in the same dish. When the Jews, angered at the Resurrection, imprisoned Joseph, he is said to have been forty-two years in a dungeon preserved by sight of the Holy Graal miraculously placed in his hands. Released by Vespasian, Joseph quitted Jerusalem, and went with the Graal through France into Britain. Here he taught, and died at Glastonbury, and the Holy Graal was preserved in the treasury of one of the kings of the island, known as the Fisherman King. But it is so sacred that it is not visible to the impure. This made the Quest of the Graal by Arthur's knights a type of the striving to come near to God, the sight of the Graal an embodiment of the thought of the Psalmist, "Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord, or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands and a pure heart: who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully;" or of the words of Christ himself, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Beginning with this new legend of Joseph of Arimathea, Map took next from Geoffrey of Monmouth the prophecies of Merlin, then reproduced in a form of his own the fleshly charm of Arthurian romance in the story of Lancelot; gave Lancelot a son Galahad, pure as a maid; and in the Quest of the Graal, which Galahad especially accomplished, he caused men to find the charm of romance in religious teaching; then he went on to the close of the series, with the death of Arthur, adapting all to his design so perfectly that the Graal story became thenceforth inseparable from Arthurian legend. Although in conception and detail it was essentially poetical, Map seems to have worked out his scheme in Latin prose. Its several parts were then turned into French prose, and versified by many. Chrestien of Troyes, who was born, like Map, between the years 1140 and 1150, first sang the romance of Erec and Enid. Kyot, a Provençal poet, gave new development to the Graal story in his romance of Percival, and this was the groundwork of the "Parzival" of Wolfram von Eschenbach, in which the conception of the Graal legend is developed with deep spiritual feeling. Wolfram von Eschenbach was a Bavarian knight of good family, who in and after the year 1204 was at the court of the Thuringian landgrave, Hermann, on the Wartburg, near Eisenach, then a centre of intellectual life, such as Weimar became 600 years later. Wolfram von Eschenbach had strength and depth rather than surface grace. He wrote but few lyrics, and was rather knight than scholar; though a poet born, having that large sense of the essentials of life which may be said, perhaps, to belong to the religious feeling of the Teuton, whether he be an English Walter or a German Wolfram. But Map's genius owed some of its vivacity to marriage of the Teuton with the Celt. It was long after Map's time that Sir Thomas Malory compiled his History of King Arthur. He is said to have ended the work in the ninth year of Edward IV.

Fifteen years

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THE QUEST OF THE GRAAL.1

The king and all estates went home unto Camelot, and so went to evensong to the great minster. And so after upon that to supper, and every knight sat in his own place as they were toforehand. Then anon they heard cracking and crying of thunder, that them thought the place should all to-drive. In the midst of this blast entered a sun-beam more clearer by seven times than ever they saw day, and all they were alighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to behold other, and either saw other by their seeming fairer than ever they saw afore. Not for then there was no knight might speak one word a great while, and so they looked every man on other, as they had been dumb. Then there entered into the hall the holy Graile covered with white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it. And there was all the hall full filled with good odours, and every knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this world; and when the holy Graile had been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed suddenly, that they wist not where it became. Then had they all breath to speak. And then the king yielded thankings unto God of his good grace that he had sent them. "Certes," said the king, "we ought to thank our Lord Jesu greatly, for that he hath shewed us this day at the reverence of this high feast of Pentecost." "Now," said Sir Gawaine, we have been served this day of what meats and drinks we thought on; but one thing beguiled us, we might not see the holy Graile, it was so preciously covered: wherefore I will make here avow, that to-morn, without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest of the Sancgreal, that I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day, or more if need be, and never shall I return again unto the court till I have seen it more openly than it hath been seen here and if I may not speed, I shall return again as he that may not be against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ." When they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up the most party, and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made.

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Anon as king Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist well that they might not againsay their avows. "Alas!" said king Arthur unto Sir Gawaine, "ye have nigh slain me with the avow and promise that ye have made. For through you ye have bereft me of the fairest fellowship and the truest of knighthood that ever were seen together in any realm of the world. For when they depart from hence. I am sure they all shall never meet more in this world, for they shall die many in the Quest."

But Sir Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild forest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him. And at the last he came to a stony cross, which departe!

1 "The History of King Arthur and of the Knights of the Round Table. Compiled by Sir Thomas Malory, Kut. Edited from the Text of the Edition of 1634, with Introduction and Notes, by Thomas Wright, M. A., F.S.A.," in three volumes of the "* Library of id Authors," published by J. R. Smith, is the most accessible edition of Sir Thomas Malory. The same text, with some abridgments, to make it suitable for general home use, is contained in one of the ches volumes of the " Globe Editions" of English authors, published by

later, in 1485, it was first printed by Caxton, at Messrs. Macmillan & Co.

two ways in waste land, and by the cross was a stone that was of marble, but it was so dark that Sir Launcelot might not wit what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and saw an old chapel, and there he wend to have found people. And Sir Launcelot tied his horse till a tree, and there he did off his shield, and hung it upon a tree. And then he went to the chapel door, and found it waste and broken. And within he found a fair altar full richly arrayed with cloth of clean silk, and there stood a fair clean candlestick which bare six great candles, and the candlestick was of silver. And when Sir Launcelot saw this light, he had great will for to enter the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter: then was he passing heavy and dismayed. Then he returned and came to his horse, and did off his saddle and bridle, and let him pasture; and unlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his shield tofore the cross.

And so he fell on sleep, and half waking and half sleeping, he saw come by him two palfreys all fair and white, the which bare a litter, therein lying a sick knight. And when he was nigh the cross, he there abode still. All this Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for he slept not verily; and he heard him say, "Oh, sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me? and when shall the holy vessel come by me where through I shall be blessed? For I have endured thus long for little trespass." A full great while complained the knight thus, and always Sir Launcelot heard it. With that Sir Launcelot saw the candlestick with the six tapers come before the cross, and he saw nobody that brought it. Also there came a table of silver, and the holy vessel of the Sancgreal, which Sir Launcelot had seen aforetime in king Peschour's house. And therewith the sick knight set him up, and held up both his hands, and said, "Fair sweet Lord, which is here within this holy vessel, take heed unto me, that I may be whole of this malady." And therewith on his hands and on his knees he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessel, and kissed it, and anon he was whole, and then he said, "Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this sickness." So when the holy vessel had been there a great while it went unto the chapel, with the chandelier and the light, so that Launcelot wist not where it was become, for he was overtaken with sin that he had no power to arise against the holy vessel; wherefore after that many men said of him shame, but he took repentance after that. Then the sick knight dressed him up, and kissed the cross. Anon his squire brought him his arms, and asked his lord how he did. "Certes," said he, "I thank God right well, through the holy vessel I am healed. But I have great marvel of this sleeping knight, that had no power to awake when this holy vessel was brought hither." "I dare right well say," said the squire, "that he dwelleth in some deadly sin, whereof he was never confessed." 66 "By my faith," said the knight, "whatsoever he be he is unhappy, for as I deem he is of the fellowship of the Round Table, the which is entered into the Quest of the Sancgreal." "Sir," said the squire, "here I have brought you all your arms, save your helm and your sword, and therefore by my assent now may ye take this knight's helm and his sword." And so he did. And when he was clean armed he took Sir Launcelot's horse, for he was better than his own; and so departed they from the cross.

Then anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set him up, and bethought him what he had seen there, and whether it were dreams or not. Right so heard he a voice that said, "Sir Launcelot, more harder than is the stone, and more bitter than is the wood, and more naked and barer than is the leaf of the fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place." And when Sir Launcelot heard

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this he was passing heavy, and wist not what to do, and so departed, sore weeping, and cursed the time that he was born. For then he deemed never to have had worship more. For those words went to his heart, till that he knew wherefore he was called so. Then Sir Launcelot went to the cross, and found his helm, his sword, and his horse taken away. then he called himself a very wretch, and most unhappy of all knights: and there he said, "My sin and my wickedness have brought me unto great dishonour. For when I sought worldly adventures for worldly desires I ever achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was I discomfit in no quarrel, were it right or wrong. And now I take upon me the adventures of holy things, and now I see and understand that mine old sin hindereth me, and shameth me, so that I had no power to stir nor to speak when the holy blood appeared afore me." So thus he sorrowed till it was day, and heard the fowls sing; then somewhat he was comforted. But when Sir Launcelot missed his horse and his harness, then he wist well God was displeased with him. Then he departed from the cross on foot into a forest. And so by prime he came to an high hill, and found an hermitage, and an hermit therein, which was going unto mass. And then Launcelot kneeled down and cried on our Lord mercy for his wicked works. So when mass was done, Launcelot called him, and prayed him for charity for to hear his life. "With a good will," said the good man. "Sir," said he, "be ye of king Arthur's court, and of the fellowship of the Round Table ?" "Yea forsooth, and my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that hath been right well said of, and now my good fortune is changed, for I am the most wretch of the world." The hermit beheld him, and had marvel how he was so abashed. "Sir," said the hermit, "ye ought to thank God more than any knight living; for He hath caused you to have more worldly worship than any knight that now liveth. And for your presumption to take upon you in deadly sin for to be in His presence, where His flesh and His blood was, that caused you ye might not see it with worldly eyes, for He will not appear where such sinners be, but if it be unto their great hurt, and unto their great shame. And there is no knight living now that ought to give God so great thanks as ye; for He hath given you beauty, seemliness, and great strength, above all other knights, and therefore ye are the more beholding unto God than any other man to love Him and dread Him; for your strength and manhood will little avail you and God be against you."

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So dwelled Launcelot and Galahad within that ship half a year, and served God daily and nightly with all their power. And often they arrived in isles far from folk, where there repaired none but wild beasts; and there they found many strange adventures and perilous, which they brought to an end. But because the adventures were with wild beasts, and not in the quest of the Sancgreal, therefore the tale maketh here no mention thereof, for it would be too long to tell of all those adventures that befell them.

So after, on a Monday, it befell that they arrived in the edge of a forest, tofore a cross, and then saw they a knight, armed all in white, and was richly horsed, and led in his right hand a white horse. And so he came to the ship, and saluted the two knights on the high Lord's behalf, and said, "Galahad, sir, ye have been long enough with your father, come out of the ship, and start upon this horse, and go where the adventures shall lead thee in the quest of the Sancgreal." Then he

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went to his father, and kissed him sweetly, and said, "Fair sweet father, I wot not when I shall see you more, till I see the body of Jesu Christ." "I pray you," said Launcelot, pray you to the high Father that he hold me in His service." And so he took his horse; and there they heard a voice that said, "Think for to do well, for the one shall never see the other before the dreadful day of doom." Now, son Galahad," said Launcelot, "since we shall depart, and never see other, I pray to the high Father to preserve both me and you both." "Sir," said Galahad, "no prayer availeth so much as yours." And therewith Galahad entered into the forest. And the wind arose, and drove Launcelot more than a month throughout the sea, where he slept but little, but prayed to God that he might see some tidings of the Sancgreal. So it befell on a night, at midnight he arrived afore a castle, on the back side, which was rich and fair. And there was a postern opened towards the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shone clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice that said, "Launcelot, go out of this ship, and enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire." Then he ran to his arms, and so armed him, and so he went to the gate, and saw the lions. Then set he hand to his sword, and drew it. Then there came a dwarf suddenly, and smote him on the arm so sore that the sword fell out of his hand. Then heard he a voice say, "O man of evil faith and poor belief, wherefore trowest thou more on thy harness than in thy Maker? for He might more avail thee than thine armour, in whose service thou art set." Then said Launcelot, "Fair Father Jesu Christ, I thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovest me of my misdeed. Now see I well that ye hold me for your servant." Then took he again his sword, and put it up in his sheath, and made a cross in his forehead, and came to the lions, and they made semblant to do him harm. Notwithstanding he passed by them without hurt, and entered into the castle to the chief fortress, and there were they all at rest. Then Launcelot entered in so armed, for he found no gate nor door but it was open. And at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and he set his hand thereto to have opened it, but he might not.

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Then he enforced him mickle to undo the door. Then he listened, and heard a voice which sang so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing; and him thought the voice said, "Joy and honour be to the Father of Heaven!" Then Launcelot kneeled down tofore the chamber, for well wist he that there was the Sanegreal within that chamber. Then said he, "Fair sweet Father Jesu Christ, if ever I did thing that pleased the Lord, for thy pity have me not in despite for my sins done aforetime, and that thou shew me something of that I seek!" And with that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the house was as bright as all the torches of the world had been there. So came he to the chamber door, and would have entered. And anon a voice said to him, Flee Launcelot, and enter not, for thou oughtest not to do it: and if thou enter thou shalt forthink it." Then he withdrew him aback right heavy. Then looked he up in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered with red samite, and many angels about it, whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and the other held a cross, and the ornaments of an altar. And before the holy vessel he saw a good man clothed as a priest, and it seemed that he was at the sacring of the mass. And it seemed to Launcelot that above the priest's hands there were three men, whereof the two put the youngest by likeness between the priest's hands, and so he lift it up right high, and it seemed to show so to the people. And then Launcelot marvelled not

a little, for him thought that the priest was so greatly charged of the figure, that him seemed that he should fall to the earth. And when he saw none about him that would help him, then came he to the door a great pace, and said, "Fair Father Jesu Christ, ne take it for no sin though I help the good man, which hath great need of help." Right so entered he into the chamber, and came toward the table of silver; and when he came nigh he felt a breath that him thought it was intermeddled with fire, which smote him so sore in the visage that him thought it burnt his visage; and therewith he fell to the earth, and had no power to arise, as he that was so araged that had lost the power of his body, and his hearing, and his saying. Then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber door, without any amending of his swoon, and left him there seeming dead to all people. So upon the morrow, when it was fair day, they within were arisen, and found Launcelot lying afore the chamber door. All they marvelled how that he came in. And so they looked upon him, and felt his pulse, to wit whether there were any life in him; and so they found life in him, but he might neither stand, nor stir no member that he had; and so they took him by every part of the body, and bare him into a chamber, and laid him in a rich bed, far from all folk, and so he lay four days. Then the one said he was on live, and the other said nay. "In the name of God," said an old man," for I do you verily to wit he is not dead, but he is so full of life as the mightiest of you all, and therefore I counsel you that he be well kept till God send him life again."

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Early in the reign of Henry II. there was an Englishman living in France named Hilarius. had gone to France that he might study under Abelard, and he was a poet. From him we have the earliest extant example of a Miracle Play or Mystery. There were no such plays in this country before the Conquest, but after the Conquest they must have been soon introduced, for in the Chronicle of Matthew Paris there is chance reference to the acting of a Miracle Play of St. Katherine at Dunstable, before the year 1119, by the pupils of a learned Norman named Geoffrey, who afterwards became abbot of St. Alban's. We know also that the acting of Miracle Plays was established in London by Henry II.'s time; for William Fitzstephen, a clerk of Becket's household, who wrote the life of his patron, says in his Life of Becket that London, instead of the ancient shows of the theatre, "has entertainments of a more devout kind, either representations of those miracles which were wrought by holy confessors, or those passions and sufferings in which the martyrs so rigidly displayed their fortitude."

It will be observed that this description limits the representation to the acts of the saints-Miracle Plays. The Mystery Plays, which dealt with the sacred history itself, and drew from the Bible story representations of those incidents which are connected with the mysteries of faith, seem to have been acted abroad for some time before their introduction into this country. After they had been introduced, the old name of Miracle Play, which had become familiar when all our plays were such as Fitzstephen defined, remained common, and was

applied still as a general term to the Mystery Plays also; but abroad the distinction made by use of the several terms Mystery and Miracle Play was well understood.

At first the plays, like the offices of the Church, were spoken in Latin. Perhaps everywhere the Miracle Play was first introduced. On the day of the saint to whom a church was dedicated there would be high celebration, and a great desire to attract worshippers to the shrine. The reading in the service of the day of a pertinent chapter from the "Acts of the Saints," instead of from the Gospel or the Acts of the Apostles, edified few. It occurred to somebody to act a chapter telling of some miracle of the saint, or setting forth his undaunted faith in God, visibly within the church, before the people's eyes, at that part of the service; and then, going on with the psalms or prayers ordained by the rubric to succeed the lesson for the day, proceed to the completion of the offices. This device succeeded, of course, in fixing attention; larger attendance was obtained; there was a more lively sense communicated to the untaught crowd of the piety or power of the saint. Experience would then justify bolder advance, and attempt would be made to bring home in the same way to the minds of the people incidents from the Bible history that involved vital truths of religion. In England, certainly, the incidents in lives of saints were acted for some time before men ventured to deal in the same way with incidents from Scripture history. But when only Miracle Plays properly so called were acted in England, we find Hilarius, an Englishman in France, writing for the Church not only a Miracle Play of St. Nicholas, but also a representation of the story of Daniel, and enforcing the mystery of the Resurrection by a play written to be represented during the church service, at the time of the reading from Scripture, when the eleventh chapter of the Gospel of St. John happened to be the lesson of the day. The story was so shown to the eye that it would come home to the understanding of the people although sung in Latin rhymes; and Hilarius ventured to quicken their feelings by the addition of little refrains in their mother-tongue. This is the Mystery Play of Lazarus, designed, it will be seen, to produce clear, homely realisation of the narrative for which it stands. I simply translate the directions to the actors, but give the play exactly as it has come down to us:

THE RAISING OF LAZARUS.

To which these persons are necessary: the person of Lazarus, of his two sisters, of four Jews, of Jesus Christ, of the Twelve Apostles, or six at least.

At first, Lazarus being sick, his two sisters Mary and Martha shall come with four Jews afflicting themselves greatly, and sitting down by his bed shall sing these verses:

O sors tristis, O sors dura,

Cujus gravis est censura; Nam per tua modo jura Languet, frater, nostra cura. Languet frater, et nos vere Facit sibi condolere.

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Facta sum misera,

Et soror altera

Per fratris funera.

Hor ai dolor,

Hor est mis frere morz :

Por que gei plor.

Cum de te cogito,

Frater, et merito,

Mortem afflagito

Hor ai dolor,

Hor est mes frere morz : Por que gei plor.

[For an ancient sin those who live after are doomed to be made mortal. Now I have grief, Now is my brother dead, Wherefore I weep. Through the forbidden food death is firmly laid upon us. Now I have grief, Now is my brother dead, Wherefore I weep. I am made a wretched woman, and my sister another by the burial of our brother. Now I have grief, Now is my brother dead, Wherefore I weep. When I think of thee, brother, and thy worth, I passionately call for death. Now I have grief, Now is my brother dead, Wherefore I weep.]

Then two of the Jews consoling, shall say to her :

Cesset talis gemitus,

Cesset meror penitus.

Cessent que suspiria;

Talis lamentacio

Talis ejulacio

Non est necessaria.

Non per tales lacrimas
Visum fuit animas

Redisse corporibus.
Cessent ergo lacrime
Que defunctis minime
Proderunt hominibus.

[Let cease such sobbing, let cease grief from the depths, let cease the sighs; such lamenting, such wailing, is not necessary. Never through such tears has it been seen that souls have returned to their bodies. Let cease, therefore, the tears which are of slightest service to dead men.]

After this shall come Martha, with two other Jews, singing:

Mors execrabilis !

Mors detestabilis!

Mors mihi flebilis!

Lase, chative!

Dès que mis frere est morz Porque sue vive?

Fratris interitus

Gravis et subitus

Est causa gemitus.

Lase, chative!

Dès que mis frere est morz Porque sue vive?

Pro fratre mortuo

Mori non abnuo,

Nec mortem metuo.

Lase, chatire!

Dès que mis frere est morz Porque sue rire ?

Ex fratris funere
Recuso vivere:

Ve mihi misere!

Lase, chative!

Dès que mis frere est morz Porque sue vive?

[Death to be execrated! Death to be detested! Death to be wept by me! Unhappy, wretched one! Since that my brother is dead, why am I living? The destruction of my brother, heavy and sudden, is a cause for sobbing. Unhappy, wretched one! Since that my brother is dead, why am I living? For my dead brother I do not refuse to die, nor do I fear death. Unhappy, wretched one! Since that my brother is dead, why am I living? Because of the burial of my brother I refuse to live. Woe to me, miserable! Unhappy, wretched one! Since that my brother is dead, why am I living?]

Two of the Jews shall say for her comfort: Tolle fletum, quesumus,

Nichil enim possumus

Per fletum profiscere.
Insistendum fletibus
Esset si quis talibus

Posset reviviscere.

Quare non consideras
Quia dum te macheras1

Nichil prodes mortuo ? Quare tu non respicis, Quia nichil (proficis)

Ut jam vivat denuo ?

[Put away weeping, we entreat, for we can bring nothing about by weeping. We might persist in lamentations if by such any one could be brought back to life. Why do you not consider, because while you torment yourself, you nothing profit the dead? Why have you no regard, because you can in no way bring about that now he should live once more?]

Jesus shall say to His Disciples:

In Judeam iterum

Nos oportet pergere,

Ubi quiddam paululum

Decrevi peragere.

[We must go again into Judea, where there is a certain small work that I have determined to complete.]

To whom the Disciples shall say:

Te nuper lapidibus volebant obruere ;

Et vis tamen iterum in Judeam tendere ?

[They of late sought to strike thee down with stones; and

wilt thou, nevertheless, go again into Judea ?]

And Jesus to them:

Ecce dormit Lazarus, quem decet ut visitem : Vadam illuc igitur, ut a somno excitem.

[Behold, Lazarus sleepeth, whom it is fit that I should visit: I will go thither, therefore, that I may awake him out of sleep.]

1 Maceras.

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