Curiously, however, in order to hide her true identity, she uses a magical herb to transform herself into a black-looking person, which allows her, together with the necessary clothing, to appear like a minstrel (58), which suggests that medieval poets might have imagined many of those ‘street’ artists as originating from outside of Europe.57 Nicolette crosses the Mediterranean aiming for the coast of the Provence and soon reaches Aucassin’s castle, where she sings a song to him about herself and that she is completely committed to her lover in the distance. Aucassin almost breaks down in longing for his love and pleads with the minstrel to return to Carthage and make Nicolette come to him, apparently because he himself would not be capable of achieving that goal. Her plan, thus, comes to full fruition since she only needs to take care of herself for eight days, taking baths, washing herself, and ultimately returning to her original female shape.58 When Aucassin then finds her, he is filled with delight and happiness and soon thereafter marries her,59 making her, the Saracen princess, the countess of Beaucaire (41).
Insofar as Nicolette had been baptized already as a child, after the viscount had purchased her from a slave trader, the narrative never mentions religion anymore, and there are no references to priests or churches, and neither one of the two protagonists demonstrates any concern with practicing their faith, on the contrary. Aucassin’s father had objected to Nicolette because of her low origin, but he has nothing to say about religious issues concerning his son’s association with that young woman. Apparently, none of Aucassin’s later advisors, who are actually not allowed to speak up at the end, has any objections to Nicolette, but she appears to have enjoyed all of the people’s love because everyone was deeply concerned when she had disappeared from the public after she had been thrown into a prison early on in the story (5). And there are no remarks as to her selection as Aucassin’s wife, irrespective of her seemingly low origin. The narrator consistently describes her as white-skinned, but he also identifies her as being the daughter of the king of Carthage, as the original text also states: “roi de Cartage” (146). Globally speaking, the marriage is well matched, but Nicolette says not much about her origin and focuses only on her longing for her lover in the Provence.
The entire narrative is kept in a fairy-tale-like atmosphere, suspended between reality and fiction, representing an idyllic image of a young couple as it struggles for many years to maintain its love relationship over objections by his father, while she faces many plans by the king of Carthage to marry her off to a mighty Muslim ruler, apparently believing that this would meet her own expectations. Aucassin is finally free of his father’s evil influence after his death, whereas Nicolette has to put on a secretive mask and pretend to be male. She must flee and return to Aucassin, whereas it would be inconceivable that he marry an Arabic princess and convert to Islam.60
She had been taken captive in her very early age and had never tried to return to her home country. Once there and fully reestablished in her role as the king’s daughter, she immediately works toward the goal of fleeting from there because she wants to be with Aucassin. Both finally find each other and can marry happily, but it remains unclear how the people of Beaucaire might think about this union. There is only one small indicator as to the full extent of her integration in the Provence insofar as she finds refuge and full support in the home of the viscountesse who lends her all the support necessary to regain her previous appearance and, thus, to be attractive for Aucassin (40).
The entire narrative remains idyllic and projects a number of highly improbable situations, playing with and undermining all kinds of audience expectations. There is not only the gender reversal in the kingdom of Torelore, but specifically the prince’s revolt against his father because he wants to marry a former slave girl and rejects all other marriage proposals. Closest to our concern, however, proves to be the presentation of the ‘good’ heathen, both in the figure of Nicolette, here disregarding the fact of her forced baptism through her owner, the viscount—see also the argument concerning forced conversion in The King of Tars and Reinfrid von Braunschweig—and in the figure of her father and brothers, as little as we learn about them in specific terms. No explanation is given as to why and how she had been kidnapped and sold into slavery. But the text clearly indicates how happy her family is when she finally happens to return to them, and then tries to marry her off to a Muslim nobleman as a sign of honor (37). However, insofar as Nicolette does not tell them anything about her love for Aucassin, she can keep her plans to escape and return to the young European prince a secret.
Neither Aucassin nor Nicolette cares about their old families, their original culture, their religion, or their own people, as much as they are loved by all and meet a wonderful welcome when they finally return after years of wandering throughout the world to their respective home country (35 and 37). In a dreamlike manner, the poet projects a love that transcends all traditional boundaries and cultural concepts, signaling that love knows nothing about racial or religious differences. The lightness of the narrator’s tone, however, and the playfulness of the entire chantefable make it rather unlikely that the poet had intended to discuss ponderous issues such as race relationships (European man, Arab woman), religious conflicts (Christianity versus Islam), or toleration/tolerance. Nevertheless, and this is the very quality of the literary discourse, here we encounter a practical example of what a tolerant worldview could mean within the context of medieval love literature. We are reminded of Eschenbach’s figure of the black Queen Belacane in his Parzival, or of the somewhat mysterious figure of Rennewart in his Willehalm, but Aucassin and Nicolette pursue each other with the full force of their hearts and make every possible move to free themselves from their family bonds and social constraints and, thus, succeed in marrying each other and living happily thereafter.61
Konrad Fleck’s Flore und Blanscheflur
Love has, as we can consistently read in medieval and other texts, a deeply transformative power and can even make a tyrannical ruler into a benevolent king. In the pan-European tradition of Floire and Blancheflor the Babylonian emir is at first depicted as a cruel and ruthless ruler who has hundreds of future brides as captives in a tower, but when he is finally confronted with the true love between Floire and Blancheflor, his heart mellows and he turns into a ‘good heathen’.
We know of many different versions, and the earliest one seems to have been the Old French Floire et Blancheflor, ca. 1160, followed by numerous adaptations and translations, such as the Rhenish Floyris, ca. 1170, Konrad Fleck’s Middle High German Flore und Blanscheflur, ca. 1220; the Middle Low German Flos unde Blankeflos, after 1300; the Middle English Floris and Blancheflour, before 1250; Diederic van Assenede’s Middle Dutch Floris ende Blancefloer ca. 1260; the Italian Florio e Biancifiore, after 1300; Boccaccio’ Filocolo, 1338–1341; and the Old Norwegian Flóres saga ok Blankiflúr, which in turn was translated into Swedish around 1312 as Flores och Blanzeflor, as one of the Eufemiavisorna. Then we know of the Greek Florios kai Platziaflora, around 1400 and the Castilian La Reina Jerifa Mora, before 1500, as also found in the Sephardic tradition.62 Boccaccio’s Filocolo became the basis for a German translation in prose, Florio und Biancefora, first printed on August 6, 1499 by Kaspar Hochfeder in Metz. This work was richly illustrated and reprinted seven times until 1560.63 The famous Nuremberg cobbler Hans Sachs rendered this text into a comedy in 1551, which was reprinted as late as 1640.64 Here, I concentrate on Konrad Fleck’s version, especially because it has been researched so thoroughly and is now available in an excellent historical-critical edition.65
Fleck appears to have composed only his Flore und Blanscheflur; no other works by him are known. From a linguistic point of view, this romance was probably written in the area of Alsace or near Basel, and it has survived in four manuscripts.66 Fleck adapted the Old French version, rendering it into Middle High German. The original account, however, seems to have been an Oriental source and contains universal themes of ardent love between two young peop
le who face severe opposition from his parents and later would have almost faced death because Flore attempts to free his beloved from the prison where the Babylonian emir holds many women as his captives to choose from as short-time wives, and he is successful in gaining access to her, but eventually the two lovers are discovered and taken to the emir who condemns them to death. However, when each of them tries to die for the other and, thus, to save the other’s life, this moves the entire court to tears and changes the emir’s heart.67
It would take us too far afield to examine every major detail of this fairly long romance, comprising 8,008 verses. It is surprisingly situated at a heathen court (Arabic) in Galicia, Spain where the two young people grow up together and then fall in love. Flore’s parents later make sure that the Christian slave girl Blanscheflur disappears since she is not worthy as a potential bride for their son, just as in the case of Aucassin et Nicolette.
Flore is deeply distraught and ultimately manages to follow her and to reach Babylon where the emir keeps her as one of the many female slaves whom he wants to marry as his fantasy strikes him but whom he has killed after a year’s time so that he can select another one. Everything about this emir reminds us of a typical Orientalized despot who rules over people rashly, carelessly, brutally, and abusively. His power and wealth, his control over many kingdoms, and so also over many young women whom he takes as his wives one by one, all characterize him as the characteristic nemesis of all good people, so to speak. But he also subjugates many heathen countries and exerts absolute control in his empire. It takes all of Flore’s skill, dexterity, intelligence, but also his deep love for Blanscheflur to make his way to Babylon and to enter the tower where his beloved is kept, along with many other women. This tower receives particular attention and is described as an architectural marvel representing the emir’s supreme wealth, influence, and dominance, as Flore’s inn-keeper informs him before he embarks on the final stretch to Babylon (4117–538).68
Miraculously, Flore succeeds and can make his way to Blanscheflur, but then tragedy strikes, and they are supposed to be executed, which underscores the emir’s brutality and despot-like nature even further. The narrator identifies him as filled with “ungevüeger zorn,” which is “unmâzen grôz” (6154–55; raging wrath which is without bounds), so the court proceedings go underway, and the two lovers are bound to die a terrible death. Both express greatest concern for the other and would prefer to die for the respective other. Flore owns a magical ring that his mother had given him before his departure and that protects the bearer from all dangers. This one he puts on Blanscheflur’s finger, indicating thereby his readiness to die on her behalf and their mutual love (6713–29). His beloved, however, refuses to accept his sacrifice, so both actually begin to fight over who should use the ring, indicating thereby publicly the true extent of their love for each other. Each one blames him/herself for the tragic outcome and wants to submit under the sword so that the other can survive. Finally, deeply irritated, Blanscheflur throws the ring down, dismissing any chance of survival because she wants to be true to her love for Flore (6780–81). A duke, who has learned of the special property of the ring, picks it up and puts it on his own finger and later presents it to the emir in order to explain how the two lovers have behaved and how ardent they are in their love for each other. In fact, he strongly appeals to the emir to let go of his wrath, to have pity on these two young people, and to pay respect to their uncompromising love and mutual commitment (7012–42). It would be sinful not to acknowledge this pure and selfless love and to pardon these two young individuals who are so prepared to die for each other.
This then gets the proverbial ball rolling; the emir calls Flore in, inquires about his origin and his upbringing, and, thus, learns the entire story of this pure love affair as told by the young prince.69 However, in that process, Blanscheflur intervenes and begs the emir to spare her friend and to let her die instead because all fault would rest on herself: “dâ von ist daz redelich / dâz ich diu verteilet sî / und ir in lâzent vrî” (7116–18; it would be proper that I would be condemned and that you would let him go free). She also adds that she could never become his wife because of her low social status of being an orphan who does not even know her social background.
However, the emir does not mellow, not even in this critical moment, and has already his sword brought to him to execute one or both of them (7151–53), still filled with great wrath about the breaching of the laws by the two lovers. Blanscheflur quickly throws herself on the ground, ready to receive the strike with the sword, but Flore pulls her away to substitute for her, and both begin to wrangle with each other out of passionate love and the deep desire to help the other one live. In this situation, the entire courtly society breaks out in tears, witnessing this moving scene (7194–203).
Most amazingly, this unheard of demonstration of true love even moves the emir, who slowly but surely changes his heart and begins to feel empathy (7203–15). Everyone around him calls upon the emir to show mercy and to recognize the purity and inner value of this love between the two young people. Then the critical moment arrives, and “do begunde er sich versinnen” (7225; he began to change his mind) and suddenly transforms into a benevolent ruler who pronounces that it would better if they were to live than to die (7262–63).
From here, we face the rapid denouement and do not need to consider many of the subsequent details because the situation finds its resolution in a happy end with everyone at the Babylonian court rejoicing over this miraculous outcome (7580–95). Flore then retells all of his adventures to the audience’s great delight, and when he relates how they were caught by the emir’s servants and taken prisoners because he and Blanscheflur had simply overslept after a night of love making, they all break out in laughter: “dô enmahte nieman lâzen, / er enmüse lachen” (7442–43; no one could hold back and had to laugh), openly expressing their sympathy and support, and, thus, indicating also that all previous tensions have been dissolved. This proves to be a close parallel to the laughter of the Grail community in Eschenbach’s Parzival when they realize how impetuously Feirefiz wants to get baptized in order to marry the Grail lady Repanse de Schoy and to sleep with her.70 All political conflicts have been put to rest, and the despot of emir is gone, being replaced by a courtly ruler very much in the vein of his European colleagues, so to speak. In fact, they all get much entertainment out of his account of how Flore had managed to deceive the guard and everyone else in charge of protecting the tower (7450) and, thus, proved to be highly intelligent.
The narrator emphasizes that the emir finally emerges as a transformed man, characterized by “güete” (7470; goodness, kindness), wisdom (7471), and the inner strength to put all of his previous anger aside and to welcome the opponent as his friend (7472–73). Subsequently he joins Blanscheflur with Flore in marriage and begs them for forgiveness regarding how he had treated them before (7498–99). Then he knights Flore (7504) and has the newlywed couple get dressed most splendidly. While the court of Babylon used to be a place of despotism, barbarity, and brutality, the extraordinary display of love by these two young people has entirely brought about a complete transformation, since now joy, happiness, delight, and entertainment in traditionally Arthurian fashion dominate (7534–43). The emir then marries Blanscheflur’s friend, Claris, and, thus, turns into a noble, dignified, trustworthy ruler, a mirror image of an ideal king, as European audiences would have expected in their own countries. We hear of tournaments, of courtly music, dancing, and universal joy: “niht wan vröide” (7164; joy).71 During the festive banquet, Flore kisses his Blanscheflur so openly and so repeatedly that the other members of the court break out in laughter once again (7586) because he does not display any shame in public to exchange these intimate bodily contacts with his new wife.
When the news reaches the court that Flore’s father has died, the emir and all the other members of his court at first beg him to stay with them and not to follow the calls to succeed his father to the t
hrone (7705), but Flore knows too well that he has to return as quickly as possible, which everyone accepts full of laments. The emir, now demonstrating the true extent of his magnanimity and courtliness, provides the young man with much riches and allows him to return home, as sad as he and all of his people might feel about this. We are strongly reminded of a similar departure scene in Ems’s Der guote Gêrhart, where everyone deeply grieves when the protagonist, the Norwegian princess, her maids, and the English noblemen board the ships to travel home. The same happens here, but whereas in Rudolf von Ems’s romance the Castellan had appealed both to the Christian and his own gods in equal measure, here we are only told that the entire court gives the young couple their blessing in a generic formula: “got müeze iuwer aller pflegen!” (7768; may God take care of you all), which does not indicate at all what religion they practice. Once the two young people have reached their goal in Spain, they are warmly welcomed and hailed as the new rulers of the countries under his royal government. Christianity has come in since Flore’s departure, so he now also converts and with him all of his people, which rounds off the narrative and concludes with a happy end.
Remarkably, however, the narrator did not make any efforts to examine the religious situation in Babylon, while there is great interest in making those courtiers’ voices heard who insist on the pursuance of lawful process (6600–6661). Above all, however, the narrative focus rests entirely on the stark tension between the emir’s previous despotic behavior and his subsequent reform into a kind, virtuous, and especially courtly ruler. As evil and cruel as he was depicted early on, as positive and friendly he is characterized at the end, turning truly into a ‘good heathen’. Konrad Fleck did not care about religious issues and emphasized, instead, only the enormous power of love that succeeded in overcoming the emir’s brutality and mean spirit and in softening his heart so much in such a short time that he suddenly accepted the two lovers as truly ideal characters whom he could not deny granting their lives and then the privilege of getting married.
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