Born: Swabia (now in Germany); c. 1160-1165
Died: Swabia (now in Germany); c. 1210-1220
Also known as: Hartmann von Ouwe
PRINCIPAL POETRY
Die Klage, c. 1180 (The Lament, 2001)
Erek, c. 1190 (Erec, 1982)
Gregorius, c. 1190-1197 (English translation, 1955, 1966)
Iwein, c. 1190-1205 (Iwein: The Knight with the Lion, 1979)
Der arme Heinrich, c. 1195 (English translation, 1931)
Arthurian Romances, Tales, and Lyric Poetry: The Complete Works of Hartmann von Aue, 2001
OTHER LITERARY FORMS
Although all extant works by Hartmann von Aue (HORT-mon vawn OW-uh) are in verse form, scholars have been tempted to consider the courtly epics Erec, Iwein, Gregorius, and Der arme Heinrich as prototypes of modern prose forms such as the novella and the novel. Nevertheless, Hartmann is first and foremost an epic poet. Because he and his contemporaries drew no such generic distinctions, neither shall this survey.
ACHIEVEMENTS
In The Emergence of German as a Literary Language (2d ed., 1978), Eric Blackall describes the development of “an uncouth language into one of the most subtle literary media of modern Europe,” attaining respectability, however, only after 1700. Blackall implies here that until the eighteenth century, German literature was essentially derivative, struggling to define itself in the presence of other, highly developed European languages and literatures. Seen in this light, the modest oeuvre of Hartmann von Aue—often topically repetitive and linguistically naïve by modern standards—can be appreciated for its true worth: as a giant stride toward vernacular poetry of the highest stature.
Hartmann’s language is a model of consistency and moderation. His sentences are clearly constructed, his rhymes are natural and unaffected, and his mastery of various verse forms is assured. His was a poetry of reflection and reason, and he frequently employed devices that clarified the theme for his audience, particularly parallelism and contrasting imagery. In his verse, he presented problematic situations that would be of interest and application to a broad audience, avoiding bizarre plots that would defeat his didactic purposes. The same concerns are reflected in his language: Hartmann pruned outdated expressions, dialect words, and foreign phrases in favor of a language accessible to a broader geographical audience. In this respect, Hartmann anticipated Martin Luther’s efforts to promote a standard German language. Finally, Hartmann is credited with introducing the Arthurian romance in Germany.
For his innovations in style, form, and language, Hartmann was respected by his contemporaries, honored by patron and audience alike, and frequently imitated by his colleagues. With Wolfram von Eschenbach and Gottfried von Strassburg, Hartmann is regarded as one of the three literary trendsetters of his age—at once exemplary and inimitable.
Perhaps of greater significance than his stylistic innovations, however, was the attitude that Hartmann brought to his works. His personal experiences and reflections are presented in a serious, contemplative mood, ennobling both the man and his writing. Furthermore, an earnest involvement with the social and moral issues of his society are hallmarks of his poetry. Hartmann’s thoughtful treatment of the tensions existing between society and religious devotion illuminated one of the most enduring concerns for German culture, a concern mirrored in works of later authors as diverse as Hans Jakob Christoffel von Grimmelshausen, the Brothers Grimm, and Thomas Mann.
Hartmann’s popularity and literary success resulted in part from his attempts to unify form and content. He constantly strove to make his language appropriate to the experiences and emotions described in the text. The tales themselves, of Erec and Iwein, of Gregorius and Heinrich, were certainly not extraordinary for his time; many of his contemporaries created more adventurous, more bizarre stories to captivate their audiences. Hartmann, however, was able to engage his listeners in a more intellectual fashion, by stating problems inherent in his society and by examining them thoughtfully and intelligently, so that the listener understood their import for his or her own life.
BIOGRAPHY
As is the case with many medieval poets, documentary evidence attesting the life and deeds of Hartmann von Aue is sparse. The few tantalizing clues that have survived have become the topic of continuing scholarly debate and controversy. From brief statements within the works of Hartmann and his fellow courtly poets, from contemporary events, and from astute speculation, a plausible biography has been established. Hartmann’s birth date, for example, can be surmised only by backdating—that is, by assuming that his earliest work was composed at approximately the age of twenty. Thus, since the first work attributable to Hartmann appeared around 1180, he was probably born between 1160 and 1165. His noble appellation “von Aue” indicates that he lived in the German territory known as Swabia, located in present-day Germany. From the introduction to Der arme Heinrich, in which Hartmann describes himself as “learned”—that is, able to read Latin (and presumably French)—one can assume that he enjoyed an education, most likely in a monastery school. As an adult, Hartmann became an unpropertied knight in the administrative service of a noble lord.
Hartmann’s earliest works convey his involvement in courtly society and its chivalric conventions, but his failure at Minne (courtly love), the death of his beloved lord and patron, and his eventual participation in a Crusade reflect a gradual but fundamental change in his life. Hartmann forsook the conventions of Minne and his role as Minnesinger, placing himself in the service of Christ and composing instead songs of the Crusades and of renunciation. Although Iwein appears to have been the last secular work that Hartmann wrote, scholars now believe that this work was merely the completion of an earlier commission and thus does not accurately reflect Hartmann’s mature stance. There is no evidence that Hartmann wrote anything during the last ten or more years of his life. The date and circumstances of his death remain a mystery to this day. Poets of the time implied that Hartmann was still living in 1210, but by 1220 he was mentioned as being among the deceased.
ANALYSIS
The period of courtly love poetry presents several insoluble problems for the modern reader. Little is known of the poets as individuals, of the circumstances in which their songs were created and performed, or of the melodies that accompanied the songs. Few manuscripts survive, and these were often copied down generations after the fact; by the time individual songs were committed to parchment, deviations from the original text were inevitable. These factors impose limits on any analysis of Hartmann von Aue’s poetry. Although his surviving works are few in number—sixteen songs and five works of substantial length—they are rich in variety, reflecting his changing concerns and the gradual refinement of his style.
THE LAMENT
The earliest work attributable to Hartmann is The Lament, a relatively youthful attempt at conventional courtly poetry. The title is somewhat misleading, for the content clearly represents disputation or rational debate. Here a young knight, unsuccessful in courtly love, engages the service of his “body” and “heart” to clarify their roles in this delicate struggle. This didactic piece, clearly a product of reflection and not of immediate personal suffering, recommends traditional chivalric qualities such as discipline, loyalty, and dependability; moderation and modesty; striving and denial. In spite of its relative superficiality and clumsy logic, The Lament represents the first rational clarification of the redemptive and civilizing qualities required by courtly society. Hartmann’s goal here was no less than to determine those qualities that allow the individual to find favor in the eyes of God and of other people. This question and the contemplative search for an appropriate answer characterize Hartmann’s entire oeuvre.
In the same period in which he wrote The Lament, Hartmann composed the first of his courtly love songs. These earliest poems also uncritically propagated the chivalric qualities necessary for attaining the favor of a noble lady, though Hartmann soon demonstrated his unwillingness to feign joy over the pains of unrequited love. Later poems reflected a greater sorrow that had befallen Hartmann—the death of his lord and patron. The poet had mentioned his failure to win the favor of a particular lady, but that was only a temporary disappointment when compared to the loss of his lord. (Although more recent scholarship questions the sincerity of the singer-patron relationship, suggesting that the poet’s expression of gratitude was purely conventional, Hartmann was doubtless loyal and grateful to his patron. Obviously, the death of his lord had a lasting effect on Hartmann’s life and thus on his poetry.)
In any case, Hartmann’s failure in love prompted him to assess his position. While not questioning the conventions of courtly society in general or of courtly love in particular, Hartmann did come to the realization that he himself was not suited to such Minne service. As he wrote at the time: “True joy is never having loved.” He was too honorable to place blame on the lady in question, reserving all culpability for himself. In truth, Hartmann was not made for such a contest. The protest against his personal suffering eventually grew into a denial of courtly love, couched in a typically objective critique. Hartmann no longer praised this idealized, unrequited love, celebrating instead a mutually harmonious relationship with a woman of less than noble stature beyond the stifling bounds of the court. At the same time, this shift in Hartmann’s attitude toward courtly love was motivated by an intense spiritual reorientation: For the salvation of his and his patron’s souls, Hartmann joined a Crusade, creating songs of dignified devotion as a religious stimulus to others of his class. These changes in Hartmann’s outlook took place only gradually, and their development can be traced in his works.
EREC
Hartmann’s Erec is German literature’s first Arthurian romance, a genre that has retained its popularity to this day. Though Hartmann relied on an earlier work by Chrétien de Troyes for his source, he should not be accused of plagiarism: In the Middle Ages, it was assumed that authors would choose their themes from an established collection of plots; true inventio, or originality, appeared in the manner of presentation. One noticeable innovation in Hartmann’s version is the role of the narrator; actual dialogue is subordinated to the third-person narrative, in which an objective distance from event and character is achieved.
While Chrétien had described the successes of a mature hero, Hartmann’s story begins with an impetuous youth. Overwhelmed by his passion for the beautiful Enite, Erec ignores his obligations as knight and ruler, thus bringing dishonor on himself, his court, and his land. He can regain his honor only by renewed, mature striving within the dictates of courtly society; by doing precisely that, he, too, gains personally through a more mature and balanced relationship with his wife. Their love nurtures the well-being that now permeates their entire sphere of influence.
Hartmann’s young Erec has failed abysmally and must undergo a lengthy and painful process of maturation, until he can prove himself worthy of being the leader of a court and the ruler of a kingdom. The major tension in this work is provided by the concepts of personal and social love. Personal, possessive love (that is, passion) must not prove destructive to the greater good represented by a harmonious, integrated society. The prevailing motif of beauty is subtly compared and contrasted to substantiate this point: Sensual beauty is destructive, for it lures the knight to thoughts and deeds of sexual excess, but beauty can also be the outward manifestation of inner harmony, as exemplified by Enite and the lovely ladies at King Arthur’s court. Hartmann explores these conflicts to demonstrate how the individual can enjoy his personal life while remaining a constructive member of society.
Symmetrically placed episodes reinforce this theme: Erec’s immature adventures at the outset of the work are paralleled by his mature successes at the conclusion. In tracing the development of the titular hero from a self-centered youth to a responsible ruler, Hartmann reminded his contemporaries of the responsibilities of the individual knight to others and to society as a whole; Hartmann saw the courtly social code calcifying into a set of rules for membership in an exclusive club.
IWEIN
Hartmann’s Iwein, based on yet another tale by Chrétien, examines the responsibilities of the knight from a different point of view. Unlike Erec, Iwein is overly concerned with acquiring honor and, from a sense of rampant egoism, neglects equally important chivalric imperatives. Iwein is persuaded to leave his wife for a year (lest he end like Erec) to participate in jousting tournaments and adventures and thereby accumulate more honor. Iwein becomes so self-centered that he fails to return home at the end of the year’s time and is consequently condemned before Arthur’s court as unfaithful, having betrayed his wife’s and society’s trust. The accusation strikes Iwein so forcefully that he goes mad and lives in the wilderness as a wild man. Only through a number of painful learning experiences does he gradually regain his senses, his honor, his wife, and his position in society. The lion mentioned in the subtitle serves to accent the importance of loyalty; Iwein rescues a lion, which then becomes his faithful companion, truly a “noble” beast. The errant Iwein is also treated with kindness by others until he can learn to reciprocate their goodness unselfishly. In stages, Iwein learns loyalty, kindness, and consideration for others, and his selfless service is rewarded with honor and salvation.
From the large number of surviving manuscripts, it is evident that Iwein was Hartmann’s most popular work. In recognition of its important theme and stylistic excellence, modern scholars have frequently referred to it as the classical work of the high courtly period. Nevertheless, Iwein is a problematic work, for it appears to have been written at widely separated intervals. The first one thousand lines exhibit characteristics of Hartmann’s middle period, around 1190, while the remainder of the work is composed in a mature yet detached style. Scholars speculate that the work was commissioned while Hartmann was still involved in courtly service and attempting to accommodate himself to its demands; after a lengthy interruption, during which time Hartmann had disengaged himself from Minne conventions, he returned to the manuscript to fulfill, albeit mechanically, the commission. Since Iwein still accepts the precepts of courtly society unquestioningly, one can scarcely consider it as Hartmann’s definitive statement on the subject, especially in the light of his mature personal convictions and the discrepancy in style. It is a tribute to Hartmann’s artistry that he could complete such a work “mechanically” yet produce one of the most popular epics of the High Middle Ages.
GREGORIUS
Gregorius, Hartmann’s courtly legend of the life of a fictive pope, was based on a contemporary French source, Vie du Pape Gregoire. Despite its explicit references to Sophocles’ Oidipous Tyrannos (c. 429 B.C.E.; Oedipus Tyrannus, 1715), Gregorius is an ingenious mixture of Asian and Occidental mythology and folklore, although Hartmann’s version features a distinctly Christian accent with its traditional progression of innocence, sin and downfall, contrition, penance, and salvation. The plot itself is at once fascinating and convoluted. The devil succeeds in blinding two noble children, so that the brother seduces his own sister. The brother then dies on a pilgrimage, while the sister secretly nurses the child of the incestuous relationship. The child is set adrift at sea, accompanied only by a tablet on which is inscribed a message that explains his origin and begs that he pray for his parents’ salvation. The foundling is raised by foster parents, educated at a monastery school, and named after the local abbot, Gregorius. All goes well until an argument reveals to the young man his parents’ shame. Despite the Abbot’s insistence that his namesake is predestined for the priesthood, young Gregorius flees to take up an adventuresome life as a knight. In his first encounter with the outside world, Gregorius frees a beleaguered city and claims the widowed queen as his bride. In all innocence, Gregorius has married his own mother, thus heaping incest upon incest. He now flees again, in complete despair. Taken to a remote island, he is chained to a rock, and the key to his bonds is thrown into the sea; thus, Gregorius spends the next seventeen years in bondage and isolation. In the meantime, a successor to the deceased pope is sought. The name of Gregorius appears in a dream to the electors, and two papal legates are dispatched to locate this holy man; they are led to the island, where, miraculously, the key to Gregorius’s chains is found in the belly of a fish. Soon, the fame of the new pope draws the incestuous queen to Rome, in the hope of gaining absolution from her sins. Gregorius and his mother immediately recognize each other and are reunited and absolved of their mutual burden. The tale closes with an epilogue reminding the audience that all sins can be expiated through contrition and penance.
Aside from the titillating motif of incest, this work offers its audience several moral considerations to ponder: Is Gregorius somehow responsible for the sins of his parents? Should he be punished for unwittingly and unwillingly becoming a participant in incest himself? Despite the folklore surrounding such “sins,” the Church of Hartmann’s day would have considered neither of these sins to be culpable. As several scholars have indicated, Gregorius’s actual transgression is against himself and his God. In agreement with the mother’s original request, the Abbot had insisted that the youth devote his life to prayer for his parents’ salvation; Gregorius’s defection was thus a betrayal of his sacred duty. In choosing to sally forth as a knight in search of adventure, courtly love, and honor—duties required of the chivalric class—he was placing personal gratification and superbia (ego or self) before his obligation to others and to his God.
In criticizing Gregorius for his blind devotion to Minne and honor, Hartmann was in fact questioning the entire structure of courtly society. He showed that the arch virtues mentioned above could lead to sin and downfall, and could be expiated only through a long and horrible penance such as that which Gregorius suffered, chained to his island rock. To be sure, Hartmann did not completely undermine the values inherent in the courtly system, but he did expose them as less than absolutes. Even supposedly courtly virtues can be tools of the devil to tempt innocents from their divinely chosen paths. It is significant that a story that begins badly in worldly society can end happily in the religious seclusion of Rome. This qualified renunciation of the profane in favor of the sacred was the most pronounced development in Hartmann’s life and found its poetic culmination in the songs he composed for the Crusades.
DER ARME HEINRICH
Der arme Heinrich, in its own time perhaps the least appreciated of Hartmann’s works (if the small number of surviving manuscripts is any indication), has ironically become the most popular. Scarcely fifteen hundred lines in length, it has been considered the prototype of the modern German novella. It was the poem’s treatment of its theme, however, and not its formal aspect, that made it revolutionary in Hartmann’s day. Heinrich is the epitome of a medieval nobleman. He possesses all the knightly virtues; he enjoys riches and honor, power and fame. Suddenly and inexplicably, he is struck down by leprosy, the most odious illness imaginable. The man who was once the ideal of social virtue is now cast out by that very society, for his beauty has turned to ugliness, his honor to dishonor, his fame to infamy. In search of a medical cure for his affliction, Heinrich travels first to Montpellier and then to Salerno, but he learns that he can be saved only by the blood from the heart of a pure maiden. In despair, Heinrich retires to the country, where he is welcomed and nursed by a family of loyal tenants. The daughter is especially drawn to Heinrich and asks why he has been so cursed. His answer is that he had been a worldly fool, accepting happiness and success as his just reward and not as a sign of God’s grace.
Just as Heinrich had been obsessed with his worldly possessions, the daughter becomes equally fanatic in her desire to die for his salvation. In extended discussions with her parents, the girl proclaims her desire to depart this life. Eventually, Heinrich accedes to her wishes, and they leave for Salerno, but at the moment the doctor is about to make the initial incision, Heinrich glimpses the beautiful girl and experiences a change of heart. He releases the girl unharmed, knowing that he cannot accept such a sacrifice and must reconcile himself to living the remainder of his life as a leper. The girl, however, is in despair and curses Heinrich for depriving her of escape from this world. At this point, both are miraculously “cured” through God’s mercy: Heinrich is restored to a youthful state of good health and beauty, while the girl regains a healthy desire to live out her life on Earth, as Heinrich’s wife. Together, they live a full and happy life before entering Heaven.
In this didactic tale, Hartmann again warned of the dangers of superbia, of selfishly living only for worldly goals or of selfishly desiring a premature death. Both Heinrich and the girl must learn to live in this world while still recognizing the divine scheme of things. This moral was directly aimed at the courtly society of which Heinrich is representative. With his unrestrained and unquestioning appreciation for worldly values, Heinrich fails to realize that all things come from God: Heinrich’s successes, his suffering, and his ultimate salvation are all the result of God’s grace. That Heinrich must overcome the courtly values as limitations, that he marries a girl beneath his social standing, that he lives out the remainder of his life far from court—these developments would have seemed foreign to a courtly audience and as such were obviously viewed as unwelcome provocations. This would account for the contemporary reception of Hartmann’s text.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Fiddy, Andrea. The Presentation of the Female Characters in Hartmann’s “Gregorius” and “Der arme Heinrich.” Göppingen, Germany: Kümmerle, 2004 . Fiddy’s work provides a feminist analysis through its examination of women characters in Gregorius and Der arme Heinrich.
Gentry, Francis G., ed. A Companion to the Works of Hartmann von Aue. Rochester, N.Y.: Camden House, 2005. A scholarly collection of essays covering a wide range of topics on Hartmann von Aue’s works. Includes bibliography and index.
Hasty, Will. Adventures in Interpretation: The Works of Hartmann von Aue and Their Critical Reception. Columbia, S.C.: Camden House, 1996. A survey of criticism of Hartmann von Aue’s work from the Enlightenment to postmodernism, which concludes that the interpretations by modern readers have been shaped mainly by critical trends.
Jackson, W. H. Chivalry in Twelfth-Century Germany: The Works of Hartmann von Aue. Rochester, N.Y.: D. S. Brewer, 1994. A study of Hartmann von Aue’s poetic representation of knighthood and chivalric values with consideration of historical, literary, and linguistic influences.
Jackson, W. H., and S. A. Ranawake, eds. The Arthur of the Germans: The Arthurian Legend in Medieval German and Dutch Literature. Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 2000. A group of essays includes chapters on the emergence of the German Arthurian romance.
Pincikowski, Scott E. Bodies of Pain: Suffering in the Works of Hartmann von Aue. New York: Routledge, 2002. Pincikowski argues that the ideological system that informs courtly life causes suffering in both the physical body and the social body of the court.
Resler, Michael. Introduction to Hartmann von Aue: “Erec.” Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1987. An extensive introduction including general historical and cultural background, specific information on the life of Hartmann, a discussion of Arthurian romance, and a full consideration of the sources, structure, and thematic issues of this work. This volume also contains a translation of Erec plus explanatory endnotes. Includes helpful selected bibliography, although the majority of the references are to sources in German.
Sullivan, Robert G. Justice and the Social Context of Early Middle High German Literature. New York: Routledge, 2001. Ahistory of the Holy Roman Empire hinging on an examination of High German literature and its authors’ focus on social, political, and spiritual issues during a time of transformation. Bibliographical references, index.
Thomas, J. W. Introduction to Hartmann von Aue: “Erec.” Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1982. Includes information on Hartmann’s life and works, as well as the theme, plot structure, motifs, and style of the translated work. Explanatory notes at the end provide bibliographical information on each of these topics. A readable translation of the text follows.
_______. Introduction to Hartmann von Aue: “Iwein.” Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1979. An informative introduction with an overview of Hartmann’s works and discussions of the theme of Iwein, structure and motifs, and the narrative style. Notes include important bibliographical references as well as helpful information. The translation included in this volume is very readable.
Todd C. Hanlin