Wolfram injects here a scenario reminiscent of the Day of Judgment, praising the dead Christian knights for their heroic deeds, which would guarantee their inclusion in heaven. The battleground thus transforms into sacred topography, although priests and other members of the clergy are not present.52 However, in contrast to Priest Konrad’s Rolandslied, despite Willehalm’s utter defeat in the first battle, the situation in the second proves to be very different, leading to the Christians’ complete victory. Just because the protagonist is able to hold his own and push the Muslim army back and out of Europe, he gains the superior position to establish a kind of tolerant attitude.53 As Rüdiger Schnell could demonstrate in an article on the chronicler Arnold von Lübeck (Chronica Slavorum, ca. 1200), the apparently not uncommon idea that even Muslims could plead for protection and argue for the shared religious ideals, which should save them from being slaughtered by the Christians, underscores how much there existed a broader notion of toleration also in historiographical and theological discourse.54
From here, we can move to the third episode where early elements of toleration emerge and where we are invited to recognize that the war situation proves to be only one modus operandi that was forced upon Willehalm and his men. At the conclusion of the epic poem, Willehalm brings all the heathen leaders together as his prisoners, but he fully recognizes the family bonds between them and his own wife Gyburg and treats them most respectfully (ch. 461). The key word here is “sippe weiz” (ch. 461, verse 26), which implies the bloodline between the prisoners and Gyburg. In her honor, Willehalm regards them as equals in knightly terms and praises them for their accomplishments in the war, highlighting their courage, loyalty, generosity, and steadfastness (ch. 462, verses 6–9).
Willehalm acknowledges the hostile army as the best that has ever been, apart from his own, and he praises the enemy in the highest possible terms (ch. 462, verse 6). Then he charges some of the prisoners who have sworn an oath of loyalty to search for the corpses of the dead kings, to lift them from the ground, and to prepare them for a worthy burial. The prisoners are required to identify their names and origin and to preserve their bodies for posterity, keeping them away from wolves and ravens (verse 23). Again, Willehalm refers to Gyburg in whose name he wants this special treatment to be applied. He wants them to be embalmed and the corpses dressed with spices and good-smelling aromatic herbs, which would mean that they should receive the same worthy interment as if they had died at home (ch. 463, verse 1).
For the heathen King Matribleiz, this all amounts to the greatest honor possible, and he deeply thanks Willehalm, admitting now that neither their gods nor their weapons could help them in this universal struggle. Even though there is no mass conversion to Christianity, the warriors develop great understanding of each other. This then triggers a memory in Willehalm, who reports that he had found a tent previously owned by the heathens. A heathen priest was the guardian there, protecting the corpses of twenty-three kings, all identified by name on epitaphs. For Willehalm, this proved to be a most moving moment, and he immediately had his banner planted outside to protect the tent and its luxurious and rich equipment in order to honor the fallen kings. Subsequently, he arranges that the other fallen kings be brought there to that tent so that all could be treated equally in a most honorable fashion.
We face here a standard convention of medieval warfare, and it was generally regarded as an egregious transgression if the victorious opponent did not allow the defeated opponent to bury the own dead in a worthy, dignified manner. However, the chronicler Salimbene of Parma (1221–1291) reported that Sultan Saladin had ordered the disembowelment of the fallen crusader knights and the dropping of the corpses into the river outside of Acre in 1189 in order to frighten and terrorize the still-living Christian forces. We do not know for sure whether this was Christian propaganda against the Muslims or whether Saladin in fact resorted to such a strategy to foul the water and the air and to prevent the Christians from burying their own dead.55 Within the context of Wolfram’s narrative, however, the protagonist acts very much in accordance with standard practices in the Christian world and thus gains the heathens’ great respect.
As he emphasizes to King Matribleiz, the Muslim servants should receive everything needed for a worthy transfer of the corpses back to their home country. There is no indication whatsoever that Willehalm might harbor any arrogance or sense of superiority in this situation, or that he might consider a further crushing of the Muslims as his religious enemies. Once those kings had fought and died, the importance of the religious difference disappears entirely for Willehalm, who promises to Matribleiz to grant him anything he might need for his task and allows him to move around freely (ch. 465, verses 28–30). As soon as the military threat is overcome, the protagonist no longer demonstrates—if he ever does—specific religious concerns. He does not need to demonstrate his Christian faith; he knows that God had helped him to achieve the victory, but now, in the exchanges with the heathen king, he no longer displays any religious concerns.
To top this off, Willehalm requests from Matribleiz that he transport all the royal corpses to the heathen ruler of them all, Terramer, and ask him for his grace and mercy, but as equals, and only on the condition that he does not expect from Willehalm to abandon his faith and to return his wife to him. As Willehalm specifies, which proves to be the clearest indication of a certain form of toleration, the return of the corpses represents his intent to give honor to Gyburg’s family: “ich ere dermit et sinen art” (ch. 466, verse 19; I am honoring thereby only his family). Insofar as Willehalm loves his wife, he cannot help but to pay respect to her family, irrespective of the difference in faith.
Of course, he does not argue from a point of weakness; rather, he just has won the war and enjoys his triumph, without demonstrating triumphalism. He even warns his opponent, the ruler Terramer, to stay in his own country and to avoid any further warfare since the Christians would know how to defend themselves effectively. But in the present situation, he has the advantage of the military victory, and yet he does not force him to convert to Christianity. Nevertheless, Willehalm knows only too well how strong and successful he had been, and so he can stand his ground very firmly. In this situation, he makes the significant move to recommend Matribleiz to consider the superiority of the Christian God and entrusts him to the divine help. There are no specific theological arguments, only universal comments insofar as he defines God as the one who created the stars and the moon (ch. 466, verse 29–ch. 467, verses 1–3). He concludes with the noteworthy words of greatest praise, recognizing in his opponent a mighty individual whose heart has always been determined by virtue and strength: “iuwer herze tugende nie verliez” (ch. 467, verse 4; your heart never lost its virtue).
Wolfram’s Willehalm comes to an end at this point without a full determination about Rennewart’s destiny. The heathen army, badly beaten and mostly decimated, retreats completely, but there is no clear sense of whether they might give up their hope of returning and squashing the Christians after all. Willehalm has only managed to draw a clear line and to push the enemies back beyond the sea. He warns Terramer of ever thinking about another military campaign against the Christians, but there is no guarantee of peace and security. Even though Willehalm has married a formerly heathen woman, none of her personal appeals to her own family and their people have achieved any conversion to Christianity. Gyburg proves to be deeply grieved at the end of the war because of the heavy loss of lives, many of who had been her own relatives. But neither she nor Willehalm ever pursue a traditionally theological argument and do not assume any missionary functions. Their personal love relationship matters centrally for them, and for that reason, Willehalm had to fight so hard to defend himself and his country, that is, the Christian world. But Wolfram does not project a form of crusade in this work, as much as his Willehalm is predicated on the genre of the chanson de geste. In strong contrast to Priest Konrad’s Rolandslied, for instance, Wolfram projects the world of heathendom
in very open-minded, almost humanist terms.56
Despite the terrible slaughter, Willehalm regularly recognizes the outstanding chivalric, knightly qualifications of his opponents. The two battles by themselves are most bloody and terrifying, but as soon as Willehalm has achieved his victory, he immediately establishes peaceful relations with his opponents, whom he treats most respectfully and honorably. There is no doubt that for him, that is, for Wolfram, the Christian faith is the only right one and that the heathens, that is, the Muslims, either have to die for their wrong belief or are pushed away most resolutely. Yet, in that process, the protagonist rises above himself and embraces the defeated opponents as equals, at least in terms of their physical prowess, knightly skills, and character. This constitutes a significant basis for the notion of toleration because he perceives the others through the lens of ethics and not religion.
As much as heathendom is doomed to be destroyed, in physical and in spiritual terms, so does Wolfram himself speak through Gyburg when she reminds the council of men that their opponents, though being their mortal enemies, still are worthy parts of the human family. Arofel, Tesereiz, then Gyburg’s various family members, and other mighty warriors, earn the narrator’s greatest respect. In other words, Wolfram forces his audience to take into view many different peoples from outside the European spectrum and signals that, apart from religion, human ideals and values can easily be shared across all divides. Considering the great popularity that Wolfram’s Willehalm enjoyed, judged on the basis of the large number of manuscripts containing this epic poem, we can conclude that this Middle High German poet apparently succeeded in injecting his audience with new perspectives about foreigners, that is, heroes in other cultures and from different races. Even religious conflicts matter only indirectly here insofar as Gyburg has left her former husband and eloped with Willehalm, which is possible because she converts to Christianity. At closer analysis, in Wolfram’s narrative, the conflict mostly hinges upon the loss of Arabel/Gyburg and not so much on the clash of religions. Of course, Wolfram easily proves to be a deeply religious person, as reflected both by his Parzival and his Willehalm.57 However, despite his Christian faith, both of his epic verse narratives also signal his readiness and willingness to practice toleration and thus to lay the foundation for a tolerant way of mentality.58
Notes
1 See the fundamental introduction by Joachim Bumke, Wolfram von Eschenbach. 8th, completely rev. ed. (2004). He does not, however, discuss toleration or tolerance in Wolfram’s works in any specific manner. See also Joachim Bumke, Die Wolfram von Eschenbach Forschung seit 1945 (1970), 314–15 and 324–25. Here, however, Bumke only summarizes earlier positions maintained by Wolfram scholars. See now the contributions to A Companion to Wolfram’s ‘Parzival’, ed. Will Hasty (1999). For a solid English translation, see Wolfram von Eschenbach, Parzival and Titurel, trans. with notes by Cyril Edwards (2006). However, I have relied on my own translations throughout, unless otherwise noted. For the historical-critical text, see Wolfram von Eschenbach, Parzival. Studienausgabe. Mittelhochdeutscher Text nach der sechsten Ausgabe von Karl Lachmann. Übersetzung von Peter Knecht, Einführung zum Text von Bernd Schirok (1998).
2 www.handschriftencensus.de/werke/437 and www.handschriftencensus.de/werke/440 (both last accessed on December 29, 2017).
3 www.handschriftencensus.de/werke/439 (last accessed on December 29, 2017).
4 I have reviewed a large portion of Wolfram research in “Wolfram von Eschenbach,” Oxford Bibliographies, online (an extensive commented bibliography on this poet): www.oxfordbibliographies.com/view/document/obo-9780195396584/obo-9780195396584-0163.xml?rskey=JnnNSa&result=1&q=Wolfram#firstMatch (last accessed on December 29, 2017).
5 Joachim Bumke, “Wolfram von Eschenbach” (1999), 1376–1418.
6 Jerold C. Frakes, Vernacular and Latin Literary Discourses (2011), 97–122. I think that Frakes’s problem with Wolfram consists of his wrong use of the word ‘tolerance’. It is very difficult and certainly problematic to talk about tolerance in the Middle Ages, whereas the term ‘toleration’ makes much more sense, especially in the current context. Modern research likes to investigate the topic of ‘the foreign’ in Wolfram’s Parzival, but this often pertains not to the actual confrontation between ‘self’ and ‘other’. See, for instance, Wiebke Ohlendorf, Das Fremde im >Parzival< (2017). Tragically, the cover page of her book is badly marred by the misspelling of the key word, “Parzifal.”
7 Holger Noltze, Gahmurets Orientfahrt (1995). Already Friedrich Panzer, Gahmuret (1940), had offered intriguing perspectives and made noteworthy suggestions as to possible sources that Wolfram might have use.
8 Bernd Schirok, “Themen und Motive” (2011), 388–84.
9 I discuss this aspect at greater length in the chapter on “The Foreign World and the Foreign Religion in Medieval Literature: Experiments in and Strategies with Toleration. A Pan-European Perspective on the ‘Good Heathen’.”
10 Siegfried Richard Christoph, Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Couples (1981), 33–43.
11 For a good overview of related cases, see Andreas Mielke, Nigra sum et formosa (1992). See now also the contributions to Figuren des Globalen (2014). Renaissance literature apparently widened that perspective to some extent, though Wolfram still deserves highest praise for the inclusion of Belacane in his text and thus venturing into an area where virtually no other medieval writer was willing to follow him. See Black Africans in Renaissance Europe, ed. T. F. Earle (2005). For Moriaen, see Bart Besamusca, “Moriaen” (1991), 329–30; R. Stufkens, “Moriaen” (2000), 184–86; for an English translation, see Morien: A Metrical Romance Rendered into English Prose from the Mediaeval Dutch, trans. Jessie L. Weston (1901). For an online version, see www.ancienttexts.org/library/celtic/ctexts/morien.html (last accessed on December 29, 2017).
12 Christoph, Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Couples (1981), 39.
13 Alfred Ebenbauer, “‘Es gibt ain mörynne vil dick susse mynne’” (1984), 16–42; Achim Masser, “Gahmuret und Belakane” (1990), 109–32; Elke Brüggen, “Belacâne, Feirefiz und die anderen” (2014), 673–92.
14 Joachim Schröder, schildes ambet umben grâl (2004), 88–95.
15 Albrecht Classen, “Literarische Diskurs-Bricolage als literarische Strategie (Textallianz) in spätmittelalterlicher Chronistik” (2007), 425–44; R. Graeme Dunphy, “Jans [der] Enikel” (2010), 905; id., History as Literature (2003), 141–57. For a modern German version of the text, adapted from Altdeutsches Decameron, ed. and trans. by Wolfgang Spiewok (1984), available online, see http://aclassen.faculty.arizona.edu/sites/aclassen.faculty.arizona.edu/files/Freidank%20und%20Versmaeren.pdf (last accessed on December 29, 2017).
16 Heiko Hartmann, Gahmuret und Herzeloyde (2000).
17 See now Romedio Schmitz-Esser, Der Leichnam im Mittelalter (2014). Section III, 3, d. He does not, however, engage with the particular burial practices pertaining to Gahmuret.
18 Elke Brüggen and Joachim Bumke, “Figuren-Lexikon” (2011), 857.
19 Karin Rinn, Liebhaberin, Königin, Zauberfrau (1996), 105–106; 160–61; Alfred Raucheisen, Orient und Abendland (1997).
20 Albrecht Classen, Water in Medieval Literature (2017), 119–51.
21 Mireille Schnyder, “Lachen oder schweigen?” (2017), 14–15.
22 Elke Brüggen and Joachim Bumke, “Figuren-Lexikon” (2011), 869.
23 Wilhelm Baum, Die Verwandlungen des Mythos vom Reich des Priesterkönigs Johannes (1999); Medieval Ethnographies: European Perceptions of the World Beyond, ed. Joan-Pau Rubiés (2008); Prester John: The Legend and Its Sources, compiled and trans. by Keagan Brewer (2015).
24 Alfred Raucheisen, Orient und Abendland (1997), 153–65.
25 Guillaume et Willehalm: Les epopées françaises et l’œvre de Wolfram von Eschenbach, ed. Danielle Buschinger (1985).
26 Wolfram von Eschenbach, Willehalm. Nach der gesamten Überlieferung kritisch herausgegeben von Werner Schröder (1978); Wolfram von Eschenbach, Willehalm. Text und Kommenta
r, ed. Joachim Heinzle (2009); here I follow Schröder’s edition and consult Heinzle’s where necessary; see now also Wolfram’s “Willehalm”: Fifteen Essays, ed. Martin H. Jones and Timothy McFarland (2002).
27 Sonja Kerth, “Neue Spekulationen über das Band der Ehe” (2011), 267–84.
28 Christoph A. Kleppel, Vremder bluomen underscheit (1996); Wolfram’s “Willehalm”: Fifteen Essays, ed. Martin H. Jones (2002).
29 Many of those aspects have already been discussed at length in numerous critical studies; see, for instance, Stephanie L. Hathaway, Saracens and Conversion (2012).
30 Carl Lofmark, “Das Problem des Unglaubens im ‘Willehalm’” (1989), 399–413.
31 Hermann Schultheiß, Die Bedeutung der Familie im Denken Wolframs von Eschenbach (1937); Sylvia Stevens, Family in Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Willehalm (1997).
32 Christoph A. Kleppel, vremder bluomen underscheit (1996), 53–109.
33 Renate Decke-Cornill, Stellenkommentar zum III. Buch des ‘Willehalm’ Wolframs von Eschenbach (1985), 202–32.
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