34 Christopher Young, Narrativische Perspektiven in Wolframs “Willehalm” (2000), 64–81, esp. 77. He emphasizes that Rennewart’s destructive instinct explodes on two fronts, directed both against the French and the heathen army.
35 Tanja Winterhalter, Der Fremde - das Fremde (2011). For a solid outline of the dialectics inherent in this passage, see Fritz Peter Knapp, “Heilsgewissheit oder Resignation?” (1983), 593–612. Cf. also Victoria J. Moessner, “Rennewart” (1976), 75–83.
36 Lofmark, “Das Problem des Unglaubens” (1989), 412–13.
37 Barbara Sabel, Toleranzdenken in mittelhochdeutscher Literatur (2003), 152.
38 Sylvia Stevens, Family in Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Willehalm (1997); Martin Przybilski, Sippe und geslehte (2000).
39 Carl Lofmark, Rennewart in Wolfram’s “Willehalm” (1972).
40 In the anonymous Reinfrid von Braunschweig (ca. 1290), we find a very similar character, the noble Prince of Persia. See the contributions to Western Views of Islam in Medieval and Early Modern Europe: Perception of Other, ed. by David R. Blanks and Michael Frassetto (1999).
41 Frank Grady, Representing Righteous Heathens in Late Medieval England (2005).
42 For a most negative approach, see Jerold C. Frakes, Vernacular and Latin Literary Discourses of the Muslim Other in Medieval Germany (2011); see my review in Mediaevistik 25 (2012/2013): 194–96.
43 Fritz Peter Knapp, “Die Heiden und ihr Vater in den Versen 307, 27ff.
des ‘Willehalm’” (1993), 202–207; Fritz Peter Knapp, “Und noch einmal: Die Heiden als Kinder Gottes” (2000), 296–302; Gillam Mary Humphreys, Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Willehalm (1999); Joachim Heinzle, “Noch einmal: Die Heiden als Kinder Gottes in Wolframs ‘Willehalm’” (1998), 75–80; Timothy McFarland, “Giburc’s Dilemma” (2002); Barbara Sabel, Toleranzdenken in mittelhochdeutscher Literatur (2003); Makoto Okubo, “Die ‘Schonungsrede’ Gyburgs im Willehalm von Wolfram von Eschenbach”; Rüdiger Schnell, “Die Christen und die »Anderen«” (1993), 185–202; Joachim Heinzle, “Die Heiden als Kinder Gottes” (1994), 301–308; Walther Johannes Schröder, “Der Toleranzgedanke und der Begriff der ‘Gotteskindschaft’ in Wolframs ‘Willehalm’” (1975), 400–415; Ralf-Henning Steinmetz, “Die ungetauften Christenkinder in den ‘Willehalm’-Versen 307, 26–30” (1995), 151–62.
44 Most prominently now Jerold C. Frakes, Vernacular and Latin Literary Discourses of the Muslim Other in Medieval Germany (2011).
45 Konfessionelle Ambiguität: Uneindeutigkeit und Verstellung als religiöse Praxis in der Frühen Neuzeit, ed. Andreas Pietsch and Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger (2013); Ambiguität im Mittelalter, ed. Oliver Auge and Christiane Witthöft (2016).
46 Sophie Marshall, “Gespiegelte Helden: Vivianz und Lanzelet in psychoanalytischer Perspektive” (2013), 206–43.
47 Barbara Sabel, Toleranzgedanken in mittelhochdeutscher Literatur (2003), 123–26.
48 Karl Bertau, “Das Recht des Andern” (1982), 127–43.
49 Werner Schröder, Der tragische Roman von Willehalm und Gyburg (1979); Nadia Abou-El-Ela, Ôwê nu des mordes, der dâ geschach ze bêder sît (2001).
50 Crying in the Middle Ages: Tears of History, ed. Elina Gertsman (2012).
51 Martin Schuhmann, “Die Frau als das Fremde in der Familie” (2007), 15–30; Regina Toepfer, “Enterbung und Gotteskindschaft: zur Problematik der Handlungsmotivierung im ‘Willehalm’ Wolframs von Eschenbach” (2010), 63–81.
52 Christina Lechtermann, “Topography, Tide and the (Re)Turn of the Hero” (2014), 89–122.
53 Barbara Sabel, Toleranzgedanken in mittelhochdeutscher Literatur (2003), 128–32.
54 Rüdiger Schnell, “Die Christen und die ‘Anderen’” (1993), 185–202.
55 Romedio Schmitz-Esser, Der Leichnam im Mittelalter (2014), 83.
56 Barbara Sabel, Toleranzdenken in mittelhochdeutscher Literatur (2003), 132–34.
57 Benedikt Mockenhaupt, Die Frömmigkeit im Parzival Wolframs von Eschenbach (1968).
58 I would like to thank my dear colleague Christopher R. Clason, Rochester University, Oakland, Michigan, for his critical reading of this chapter and his valuable suggestions.
4 A Brief Moment of Truce and Welcome
Friendship between the Muslim and the Christian in Rudolf von Ems’s Der guote Gêrhart
Rudolf von Ems belongs to some of those late medieval poets who certainly deserve our careful attention because of their large and significant works, intellectual acumen, philosophical and religious insights, and aesthetic quality, but who have oddly remained in the shadow cast by those poets who flourished about a generation before them, that is, around 1200, or those who were active in the late Middle Ages. Rudolf is known for his religious narrative Barlaam und Josaphat (ca. 1225–30), his Alexanderroman (ca. 1240), his courtly romance Willhelm von Orlens (ca. 1235),1 and his massive world chronicle Weltchronik (ca. 1254).2 He also might have composed the religious poem Eustachius (today lost) and other works, which he later dismissed himself as dubious, purely fictional, and not worthy for posterity.3
Rudolf was a contemporary of Konrad Fleck (active around 1220) who had composed a Middle High German version of the famous pan-European Flore und Blanscheflur and whom he mentions in his Willhelm von Orlens as having already passed away.4 Only the continuator of his Weltchronik identifies Rudolf as ‘Rudolf von Ems’, after the castle Hohenems (Alt Ems) south of Bregenz on the shore of the Lake of Constance. He had contacts with the poets around Konrad von Winterstetten and hence with the sons of Emperor Frederick II. In other words, he was a strong supporter of the Hohenstaufen dynasty. King Conrad IV of Germany (1237–1254), with whom he probably traveled on a military campaign to Italy (where he died around 1251), was the patron of his world chronicle.5
Moreover, Rudolf composed the curious, highly unusual, but truly fascinating, Der guote Gêrhart (ca. 1230–40) in which we encounter for the first time in medieval literature generally a merchant operating as the universally admired and glorified protagonist who never can do wrong in ethical and moral terms and who is also most successful in his trade.6 Even though ‘only’ a merchant, the protagonist has at his disposal seemingly infinite treasures, but he does not hoard them and uses them most generously for good purposes, assisting highest-ranking aristocrats in their personal need and existential crises. God loves him even more than the Emperor Otto I the Great (912–973; actually Otto IV, as I will elaborate below), which explains Gêrhart’s epithet of being ‘the good one’.7 However, even though he earns his money through buying and selling merchandise, his social background does not matter significantly for the romance, since Gêrhart appears to be, without us learning any details, independently wealthy and at the end of the story could have easily been appointed king of England if he had permitted the English nobles to place the crown on his head since they worship him deeply and feel infinite gratitude toward him for his selfless act when he had freed them from their imprisonment in Morocco.
To gain a better grip on the romance and the poet’s background, I will first discuss the specifics of the manuscript tradition, then turn to the historical events upon which the romance appears to be based in general terms, and only then pay full attention to the theme of toleration, if not tolerance, as it evolves in Der guote Gêrhart, a most remarkable literary example where a medieval Christian protagonist strikes a close friendship with a Muslim ruler and never cares about their religious differences because both men share the same ethical values and cultural ideals.
Specifically, Gêrhart helps a Norwegian princess Erene, or Irene, to gain her freedom from a Moroccan castellan; then he assists her and her English fiancé to get married; and he establishes peace in England through his wise council. Gêrhart is a Cologne merchant, but he stands out as one of the most glorious, ideal individuals, shining through his piety, devotion, high morality, and ethics. Even though he lives in the city of Cologne, he operates on an international level and can easily be identified as a role model for everyone in his society,
superseding even the emperor in his religious value system. In contrast to many romance heroes who experience dramatic problems in their lives and have to struggle hard to regain their own identity and their social status, Gêrhart never has to face any personal conflicts and is a most consistent, flawless, and harmonious character. Rudolf does not have any interest in reflecting on social, political, or religious issues; instead, in his romance, he makes his protagonist confront external challenges, which require resolute, considerate, but also astute solutions that open the perspective toward innovate pathways toward social interaction across numerous cultural, linguistic, and religious lines.8
Although he is a merchant and as such hardly would fit into the common framework of courtly literature, he appears as the idealized figure of a truly noble person. He puts even Emperor Otto to shame for his mercantile thinking regarding the rewards for his own piety. While the true merchant (Gêrhart) demonstrates truly noble, Christian characteristics, the emperor exposes his profit-oriented ideology. There are only fleeting references to the world of the urban class in the cities of Cologne and London, while the entire romance could be identified as a ‘mirror for princes’ insofar as Gêrhart demonstrates how best to listen to “rât” and “lêre” (advice and teaching). However, Rudolf’s earliest work is still situated, for the deliberate purpose of innovation, in the world of merchants, even though the actual process of buying and selling or trading and bartering finds very little consideration.9 The protagonist has apparently no difficulties in purchasing goods in distant lands and selling them at a high price back home, since he proves to be so wealthy. But, to be sure, the world of merchants really does not matter in any significant way here, especially because we never observe him actually working, that is, buying and selling in specific terms, which would not have been important for the medieval audience anyway insofar as Rudolf really addressed primarily courtly listeners/readers. Only once does Gêrhart barter all of his wares away, as we will observe below, but otherwise he operates mostly like any aristocrat would at his time.10 Recently, some scholars have argued that here we can recognize a latent tension between the class of merchants and of ministerales (lower-ranked aristocrats working as administrators), but the protagonist never faces any serious opposition either from the nobles in England, the bishop of Cologne, and the German emperor or from the merchant class, and he does not experience any form of criticism for his behavior and values.11 Everyone, high and low, agrees that he is a most worthy individual, a role model for everyone, and this both within Christian Europe and in the Muslim world. Even God loves him dearly as an exemplary individual. The angel, who on behalf of God communicates with the emperor, presents Gêrhart as an ideal character whom Otto, who is seen as a disgrace to God, should emulate.
The text has survived in only two manuscripts, A, that is, Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 2699 (first half of the fourteenth century, if not several decades earlier), and B, that is, Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Cod. 2793 (ca. 1475).12 Both manuscripts contain a number of commonly shared errors, but A stands far above B considering the scribe’s meticulous approach to his task, which included at least two rounds of corrections. However, ms. A is missing 548 verses, which were lost with the disappearance of four leaves after pages 19 (verse 2639) and 33 (verse 4827). Seventy-six verses are simply missing throughout the text without any good explanation, unless the scribe plainly skipped them in the copying process. Moreover, there are, despite the scribe’s great efforts otherwise, hundreds of passages with textual corruptions. Ms. B at times contains the missing the text in ms. A, but there are many gaps as well, probably because the scribe, identified as Gabriel Sattler-Lindenast von Pfullendorf, carelessly overlooked an entire passage in his original from he copied the text.
We can be certain on the basis of diverse pieces of evidence that he did not have ms. A in front of him, but another manuscript copy, today lost. Moreover, at other times, he added his own words or entire verses contrary to what ms. A would have required. Nevertheless, ms. B proves to be very valuable for the establishment of the historical-critical text, as published by John A. Asher (1971), both as a corrective and as a reflection of an obviously much wider scope of reception.13 In the late Middle Ages, the verse romance was also translated into a prose version (late fifteenth or early sixteenth century), which indicates that there was more interest in this text than we might have assumed.14
The quantity of manuscript copies (plus incunabula, early modern prints) is not always a good benchmark with which to evaluate a literary text from the past, at least in terms of its quality, meaning its ethical or moral, philosophical or religious messages. The contemporary audience might not have recognized the true value of this text, or a poet composed a text that was too alien or strange for his listeners/readers in the middle of the thirteenth century, for instance. It is also possible that a text was very popular at its time, while the majority of manuscripts might be lost today for the very simple reason of overly extensive use. Or a text was transmitted mostly orally, whereas it did not seem necessary to record it on parchment because everyone interested in it, or at least the performers, knew it by heart.15
In our case, we face the intriguing situation that Rudolf’s work, composed around 1220–1240, found readers as late as in the late fifteenth and then even the sixteenth century. What happened in the meantime? Why are there no other manuscript witnesses? Much seems to be lost, especially since ms. B was obviously based on another source than ms. A was.16 And neither A nor B was the basis for the later prose version. Altogether, then, Rudolf’s Der guote Gêrhart experienced a continuous reception over the centuries, even though a good number of witnesses have disappeared since then.17
Most importantly in our context, any literary text, or any narrative from the past, probably implies something else for each new generation of readers/listeners. This does not mean that our analysis today represents an arbitrary approach. Instead, we simply uncover ever-new layers of meaning that all can be confirmed factually through a close reading. As a matter of fact, Rudolf, like every other major poet, composed his romance with specific ideas in mind and structured the events according to unique interests and concepts of greatest relevance at his time, or at least for himself and his patron(s). He also must have used some literary models, which affected the way in which the text evolved, although we cannot specify any examples at the current state of research. The contemporary audience might or might not have paid the same attention to a specific passage as we do today, even though it was certainly contained in the text. Hence, whether a poetic fiction was popular or not, if it allows us to gain a better understanding of how certain issues, problems, or cultural phenomena were dealt with at that time, then that work proves to be valuable for us. The entire history of medieval culture, as we understand it today, is more or less predicated on this notion and does not draw necessarily only on those texts that were the most popular at their time.18 How much the issue of tolerance, as I will discuss it below, was representative of general interest in the thirteenth century would have to be examined in a broader context (see also the first chapter). At any rate, here we have an excellent opportunity to probe the issue in at least one unique case.
But let us first examine the specific episode in detail and gain a better grip of what is going on there and what it might tell us about the idea of multiculturality, if not tolerance, already in the late Middle Ages. As we have seen above, the example of Wolfram von Eschenbach already underscored the significant effort to reach out to other races and religions as early as around 1200, that is, surprisingly, at a time when the Crusades were still pursued energetically—see the Fourth Crusade from 1204, e.g.—although they resulted in very little success. But Rudolf’s romance is far removed from such thematics since he pursues, much more importantly, ethical, political, and social concerns, which was rather characteristic of late medieval courtly literature.
The narrator informs us in the epilogue that Emperor O
tto repented his arrogance and sinfulness, if not hubris, after he had learned of the merchant Gêrhart’s example. The romance thus served as a medium to convey political teaching for the upper social classes, including the members of the ruling houses. Moreover, as we will see below, Rudolf explored the issue of tolerance and suggested to his audience to embrace a new attitude toward Muslims. Before I will turn to that issue, however, let us first gain a better understanding of the historical background as implied in the narrative and as outside sources inform us.
Having returned to Magdeburg, Otto ordered that his own religious experiences, both the good and the bad, be recorded in writing, obviously in Latin (6803–10).19 An unnamed person later read this account and brought it with him from Austria—there is no explanation how the text got from Magdeburg, i.e. in northern Germany, to Austria—and retold it to a Rudolf von Steinach, who was a high-ranking administrator in the service of the bishop of Constance, mentioned several times in the historical records between 1209 and 1221.20 This Rudolf, in turn, requested the poet, Rudolf von Ems, to render it into German verses (6229–30). In geographical terms, hence, this romance demonstrates a curious triangulation, from Northern Germany, to Eastern Austria, to Southwestern Germany.
Most likely, Rudolf’s Der guote Gêrhart was primarily received in Constance, where the political climate lent itself for this poem reflecting on the Emperor’s hypocritical and rushed endeavor to achieve God’s grace and subsequently to repent in time for his sinful self-aggrandizement, or hubris (6795–80). The narrator here indirectly refers to Emperor Otto IV of the House of Welf, although the literary framework initially seems to refer to Otto I as the founder of the bishopric of Magdeburg, which is mentioned in the early part.21 The bishop of Constance and his noble courtiers had supported the Welf candidate for the imperial throne, Otto IV, even though his opponent, the Hohenstaufen Frederick II, who had arrived from Italy in order to ascend to that position, at that time rapidly gained the general support.
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