Most crucially for our investigation, the seventh stanza deviates from this global perspective and adds a unique comment regarding the impossibility for Jews, Christians, and Muslims to determine themselves who might be the legitimate heir to the Holy Land. Walther pleads with God to make that decision Himself, which will happen by means of the appearance of the Holy Trinity. Finally, the poet indicates confidently that in this global struggle, the Christians will gain the upper hand because it is “reht ist, daz er uns wer” (VII, 7; it is right that He will grant it to us).
Thomas Bein indicates that we face, here, a significant ambivalence since the first person plural could either refer to all Christians or to the representatives of any of the three religions.25 Manuscript B is missing those intriguing comments, while in manuscript C, the relevant stanza appears as no. 9, and in manuscript E as no. 7. The version in manuscript Z includes this stanza as no. 3, without any significant changes in the wording. Undoubtedly, the various scribes faced difficulties with the statements contained in this stanza and tried to change the ambiguous meaning as to the comments concerning the three religions and their relationship with the Holy Land.
Undoubtedly, Walther acknowledged the existence of three religions here, and he signaled that there was a conflict about the truth claims of each, otherwise he would not have appealed to God to make that decision, of course in favor of Christianity. But the stanza also indicates that he was completely certain about the outcome, although he also suggested that both the Jews and the Muslims had offered valid arguments that powerfully competed with those maintained by the Christians. In the previous stanzas, Walther specifically condemned Jews for having murdered Christ, openly expressing his anti-Judaic stance. But he never has any comments about the Muslims and instead places them on the same level as the Jews and the Christians in the contest for the Holy Land.26
As Christopher R. Clason has argued, and this just in the same way as Matthias Nix had done before him, Walther clearly intends his poem as a call to arms, appealing to his Christian audience to defend the Holy Land as their own. Clason goes so far as to underscore, “In the ‘Palästinalied’ there is no trace of any conciliatory attitude whatsoever.”27
We could certainly agree with this position on the one hand, yet on the other, we also would have to acknowledge that Walther even includes the representatives of the two other religions, that he understands that there are no specific political or military means to decide the issue—despite all efforts by the various crusading armies—and that God must be involved in the final decision making. This actually reminds us of the conclusion offered by Boccaccio in the parable of the three rings, even though here Walther pursues a much more aggressive stance against Jews and Muslims. The poem does not really indicate that military measures should be taken since God Himself would intervene and take care of the conflict. At least in this poem, Walther refrains from the usual crusading ideology and grants, even if only in passing, that the Jews and the Muslims also believe in one, that is, the same God.
Walther actually bemoans the fact that there are too many conflicts in the world (VII, 5) and hopes that the divine judgment will overcome those tensions—of course, in favor of the Christians, as he voices a number of other times in his poems, such as in “Vil süeze wære minne” (53, L 76, 22). Nevertheless, he does not exclude Jews and Muslims entirely, as much as he tries to reject them, apparently realizing that the Christians simply have to deal with them as direct competitors in the struggle to reach out to God and beg Him to help the faithful. Walther, like many of his contemporaries, apparently expressed here primarily his own fear for his soul in the afterlife and dreaded the presence of Jews and Muslims as challengers to his own religious conviction. Hence, his formulation about the Jews: “ir schrîen lût erhillet” (II, 18; their screams are heard loudly).
In the so-called “Wiener Hofton,” “Waz wunders in der werlte vert! (10, L 20, 16), specifically in the fourth stanza, “Nû wachet! uns gêt zuo der tac,” Walther openly admits his profound worries about the Day of Judgment, which everyone will have to fear deeply, “in ieglich kristen, juden unde heiden” (4; every Christian, Jew, and Muslim). But he does not charge Jews and Muslims specifically for their presumed wrong faith. Instead, the poet observes how much people everywhere have turned toward disloyalty, lying, deception, and violence, and, hence, criticizes, above all, his Christian contemporaries. In face of death, the issue concerns mostly morality, ethics, and piety, and in that regard, Christians pursue as much God’s love as do Jews and Muslims: “im dienent kristen, juden und heiden” (V, 14; Christians, Jews, and Muslims serve Him). However, as is so often the case in Walther’s poems, his real criticism is aimed at the Christian clergy and their hypocrisy, and the laity’s failure to live up to their own ideals (see stanzas XIII–XIV), and not so much at all at non-Christians. As Clason notes, “in the ‘Wiener Hofton’ the signs of apocalypse are for all to read and assure that no one will prevail.”28 In light of the ultimate destiny that all people will face at the end of their lives, there are no real differences between the representatives of the various religion. To quote Clason again,
In the “Wiener Hofton,” however, the Muslim, the Jew, and the Christian are all human beings, subject to the same biological requirements for their lives, the satisfaction of which, for the poetic voice in this strophe, is a gift from God, the true “lebendiu wunder.”29
This does not make Walther an early defender of toleration at all, and this long avant la lettre, but the various passages in his religious songs signal in an intriguing fashion the extent to which the religious discourse was rather ambivalent, amorphous, and even contradictory. At least in face of death, and the Day of Judgment, for Walther, there were no real differences between Jews, Christians, and Muslims. The ultimate criterion for salvation, however, was God’s grace, and he ardently believed that God would recognize the Christians as His only and true people. To raise this issue, however, in the first place, and recognizing that the Holy Land was truly contested, while the idea of a crusade could not bring about full clarity or a decision, constituted, at least in its early forms, a sense of toleration, as much as Walther hoped for Christianity to be graced by God’s intervention. However, the poem’s ambiguity makes it difficult to separate the appeal to God to grant the Holy Land to the Christians from his general acknowledgment that Muslims and Jews also make claims on it and might have a good case, unless God would intervene.30
Karlmeinet
The myth of the Frankish ruler Emperor Charlemagne (d. 814) has left numerous reflections in medieval and early modern literature and the arts.31 In the vast majority of cases, Charlemagne rises as the triumphant leader of his people who can decisively crush the Muslim forces and, thus, help Christianity spread all over Europe. This is also the case in the Ripuarian (West German dialect) Karlmeinet, a huge epic poem of nearly 37,000 verses from the time after 1315 (terminus post quem) and before 1354 (terminus ad quem). In the early part, titled Karl und Galie and consisting of ca. 14,000 verses, however, setting the stage for all subsequent events, young Charlemagne would have suffered his early death from the assassination attempt by the traitorous Hoderich and Hanfrat at the royal court in Paris if he had not fled in time and had found refuge in Spain at the court of the Muslim King Galafers in Toledo. There, he spends two years and enjoys full support by the Saracen ruler, whom the narrator portrays as an ideal character, that is, as a ‘good heathen’. Charlemagne falls in love with Galafers’s daughter Galie, but before this relationship can thrive, he has to go on a military campaign to regain his own kingdom, with Galafers’s assistance, although both men adhere to different religions. Charlemagne can then ascend to his father Pippin’s throne, who had died earlier.
Subsequently, the new king returns secretly under a disguise to the court of Toledo where he flees with Galie and can defend himself successfully against the pursuers. He takes his bride to St. Denis near Paris, where she is baptized and then crowned as queen.
This text is then followed, within the same compilation, by other narratives that are connected with Karl und Galie only tentatively, that is, Morant und Galie and a generic middle section, which comprises ca. 5400 verses. Here, we are informed about Charles’s military operations during his early adult years, fighting against the Saxons, Bavarians, Langobards, and Huns, thus vastly expanding the limits of his Frankish empire. The final section, Karl und Elegast, comprising ca. 1350 verses, which are based very closely on the Middle Dutch Karel ende Elegast from ca. 1250, treats some adventures of Charlemagne’s life, who is ordered by God to leave his court in the guise of a beggar and can thus learn of secret plans of a military coup d’état against him, which he successfully overcomes.32 The fifth and last part of Karlmeinet deals with the life of the famous paladin, Roland.
For our purposes, however, we only need to reflect on the time Charlemagne spends at the Muslim court in Toledo, where he helps the Sultan, whom the narrator calls “den edelen konynck” (p. 37, 37; the noble king), or “wael geboren” (p. 43, 36; high born), or “rechte guot” (p. 45, 31; really good), to fight the army of an opponent, the African King Bremunt and his nephew Kaiphas.33 After all, the narrator projects the rather unusual situation that a Christian prince escapes a group of traitors at his own court and is warmly welcomed by a Saracen ruler.34 David, young Charlemagne’s advisor, addresses the Muslim king when they arrive in Toledo and expresses his hope that “uch vre got moesse beraden!” (p. 46, 38; may your gods give you inspiration) in the expectation that he would accept them in his service. Galafers happily welcomes them, telling them that he would rather forgo a hundred thousand pounds of gold than not to welcome these French knights (p. 47, 45–8).
He privately inquires about the reasons for their expulsion and then assures them that he would guarantee them his help, thus demonstrating the highest ideal of a good king (p. 48, 27–32). He swears on his own god, Mohammed, to live by his promise (33–4), which does not trouble the Christian knights; on the contrary, they thereby know that they can rely on the heathen ruler and have found the expected safe haven. However, when Galafers learns of Charlemagne’s true identity, being the son of King Pippin, he almost would have revoked his pledge because the latter had done him much damage in various warfares. But he remembers his own oath and reinforces it, assuring them of his friendship and grace (p. 48, 3–p. 49, 4). The narrative then takes off, focusing on the budding love relationship between Karl Meinet/Charlemagne and the king’s daughter Galia, and the war against the African King Bremunde. Galie repeatedly refers to her god Mohammed, expressing her delight about the young hero, but religious issues do not enter the discussion in any particular manner. The court of Toledo appears to be like any other court in medieval Europe, and the French knights enjoy their time there without any concerns about their spiritual well being because they are completely integrated into the courtly society and at the same time actually stand out as the most formidable warriors and also courtiers.
The narrator has, so to speak, projected a framework where toleration operates without any frictions or problems since religious differences are of no concern for anyone. Instead, the central concerns for everyone involved pertain to kingship, military superiority, honor, glory on the battlefield, but then also love, and, above all, Charlemagne’s chances to succeed his father Pippin to the throne in France. Insofar as the Muslim king proves to be a valuable aid, the traditional conflicts between Christianity and Islam entirely fall away, which allows the narrator to project a stunning tolerant situation in this part of Karl Meinet. This also makes it possible to make Galie invoke her own god, Machmet, when she espies the young protagonist for the first time and immediately falls in love with him (p. 51, 44, 47). We know that she will later convert to Christianity, but this is far away in the development of this epic narrative, whereas in this situation, it is entirely natural to hear that she expresses her faith in Mohammed, or Machmet, as erroneous as that certainly was, mirroring a strong confusion on the part of medieval Christians about the true nature of Islam.35
The war against the African King Bremunt concludes with the triumphant victory for the king of Toledo because of the heroic accomplishments by the French warriors, whom Galafers greatly honors and praises, demonstrating his deep gratitude and acknowledgment. Most impressively, especially in our context, there is no word about the fact that the French heroes subscribe to Christianity, and the king of Toledo and his court to Islam. We can certainly call this, at least indirectly, a form of literary toleration.
William Langland
For many other didactic poets, the issues were quite similar, especially because it was a common understanding that the tensions and conflicts in that world were not simply going away, particularly as they pertained to religious differences. In William Langland’s famous Piers Plowman, composed between the 1360s and the 1380s in various versions, the author formulated deep concern with fundamental religious and social issues dominating his time and society. The various allegorical figures are talking to each other about problems that affect everyone, such as war and peace.36
At times, of course, Langland voices extreme criticism of the non-Christians, such as in Step, or Passus, III (324–25): “Then the Jews and the Sarcens shall sing out the Sanctus. / and Mahomet and Money shall howl and moan.”37 In Step XIII, Learning addresses Conscience and emphasizes the great need for patience, whereupon the latter responds that if Patience were to join them, they both could overcome all conflicts between kings and countries (207–10). It should be possible to convince Saracens, Syrians, and Jews to accept the Christian faith (211), which then would settle most issues and allow world peace to set in.
In Step XV, the Soul discusses the differences between Muslims and Christians and brings to light rather surprising perspectives. But first, the criticism is raised not only against Saracens and Jews, but also against scribes, or clerics, because they lead a life of hypocrisy and do not practice what they are teaching (390–92). There would be hope for them all, however, insofar as they could be reformed. In particular, we learn that the Saracens “believe much the same as ourselves” (393), and they demonstrate great love for the Lord; thus they worship the same god and can also be called ‘monotheists’. The Prophet Mohammed is identified as a Christian who turned to hereticism (397) and deceived his contemporaries in believing in him, and not in the Christian teachers by means of various tricks. All heathens descend from a heathen (459).
Insofar as Saracens, Jews, and scribes—maybe simply the learned intellectuals—all share some parts of the teaching of the Holy Trinity, it would not be too difficult to convert them to Christianity (499–501). They pray to and believe in the one god, but their medium is the wrong one, specifics being withheld in that case. But Langland also tends to criticize Christians since they worship more the cross on the coin than Christ’s cross, being victims of incipient capitalism already in the late fourteenth century (537–38). Both the clergy and the laity have turned to money alone and disregard the fundamental Christian teachings, so they become even worse hypocrites than the Saracens or the Jews (542–43).
With respect to the Jews, we are told that they believe in the Lord’s laws and follow the basic principles, such as to love one’s neighbor (581). However, they could not accept the miracles performed by Christ and decried Him as a deceiver, which only resulted in their own doom (593–94). Nevertheless, there is hope for Langland since he observes the shared belief in one god by the Muslims, the Greek Orthodox, and the scribes. It would take only little then to expand the expression of faith beyond the reference to the Father Almighty, and to include His son (806). From there, it would be only a little step to include further the Holy Ghost, then the confidence that God will forgive all sins when true repentance has set in, and finally the concept of the “Resurrection of the body and the life everlasting” (610).
Of course, just as in the case of Walther von der Vogelweide, Langland comes from a deeply Christian position and is trying to
reach out to Muslims and Jews by way of coaxing, pleading, and convincing. Very much in the same vein as some of the philosophers (Abelard, Ramon Llull, Nicholas of Cusa), the idea here is to establish common ground and to work on that basis aiming for the ultimate conversion to Christianity. There is no effort to accept the other religions, of course, but the poet certainly tries hard to invite the members of the two other monotheistic religions into his own world of faith, suggesting specifically how much they share in common, especially the belief in one god. Significantly, his comments are often more harshly directed against Christians and the clergy, in particular, than against the non-Christians, for whom he actually seems to entertain a bit of respect since they seem to be very close to the Christian faith and would only need a little coaxing to convert. But details escape us, and we are left with a more global discussion of many different moral and theological issues.38
One additional passage, however, makes a noteworthy difference and forces us to reconsider Langland’s position vis-à-vis other religions. Considering the relationship between Christ and all people, he highlights that everyone would be welcome by Christ if they arrived voluntarily. Because this passage is so important, I offer first the original text, followed by the translation:
Toleration and Tolerance in Medieval European Literature Page 25