Born: Probably Eschenbach bei Ansbach, Franconia (now in Germany); c. 1170
Died: Probably Eschenbach bei Ansbach, Franconia (now in Germany); c. 1217
PRINCIPAL POETRY
Lieder, c. 1200
Parzival, c. 1200-1210 (English translation, 1894)
Willehalm, c. 1212-1217 (English translation, 1977)
Titurel, c. 1217 (Schionatulander and Sigune, 1960)
OTHER LITERARY FORMS
All surviving manuscripts of works attributed to Wolfram von Eschenbach (VAWL-from fawn EHSH-uhn-bok) lead to the conclusion that he was exclusively a poet. His masterpiece, Parzival, is considered the founder of the bildungsroman, or novel of development. This paternity is extremely tenuous, however, resting on affinities of characterization rather than of genre; the first recognizable novel did not appear until some 450 years after Parzival.
ACHIEVEMENTS
Although Wolfram von Eschenbach was roundly criticized by his contemporary Gottfried von Strassburg as a “fabricator of wild tales,” other poets and especially Wolfram’s audience were more appreciative. The extraordinarily large number of extant manuscripts—eighty-four separate manuscripts or fragments of Parzival and seventy-six of Willehalm—attests his popularity . In comparison, other major works of the High Middle Ages would seem to have been in less demand; the Nibelungenlied (c. 1200; English translation, 1848) exists in thirty-four versions, Gottfried von Strassburg’s Tristan und Isolde (c. 1210; Tristan and Isolde, 1899) in only twenty-three. Many modern critics also proclaim Wolfram to have been a careless poet, unrefined and unlearned; however, Wolfram’s works sparkle with his own vital personality in an era of subdued conventionality. In contrast to the sophisticated stylists Gottfried and Hartmann von Aue, Wolfram wrote with color, depicting exotic scenes and exciting adventures in vibrant tones. His language is uniquely robust, studded with heroic (rather than courtly) terminology, Franconian dialect, and French loanwords, as well as a number of neologisms. Often chosen for resonance and acoustical effect, his language lends additional energy to his rhetorically crafted tales. His style is serious and humorous, insightful and charmingly frivolous. In short , Wolfram was a thoroughly delightful storyteller who constantly manipulated his audience as well as his characters.
Wolfram has not attained immortality as a result of his personality or style, however. Because of his inferior social status as a layman, Wolfram was able to view courtly society from both within and without, to question assumptions and conventions with unusual detachment, often with humor. He fused disparate sources and traditions to form new and challenging visions of people and society which remain viable to this day. In Parzival, for example, he created a poem monumental in size and scope that illuminates timeless concepts such as ignorance and wisdom, grief and courage, guilt and salvation. This tale of the Holy Grail, of King Arthur’s Round Table and attendant knights and ladies, transcends the realm of the courtly romance; indeed, the Arthurian circle is shown to be less than the ideal so often propagated by lesser poets. Of greater import is the development of an individual who ultimately attains the highest position on earth, a worldly king who represents the highest of spiritual values as well—a noble goal for all humankind. Wolfram’s works all exhibit this critical yet hopeful attitude. Wolfram invested his poetry with vitality, humor, mystery, and a lofty purpose. These same qualities engage the reader, now as then, and will continue to command thoughtful consideration.
BIOGRAPHY
To possess factual information pertaining to the life of any courtly poet is a rare occurrence; the poet as professional writer and public figure is, after all, a relatively recent phenomenon. In the case of Wolfram von Eschenbach, few documented details exist. Fortunately, Wolfram was a personable poet who could not refrain from injecting his experiences and opinions into his works. From his utterances, scholars have been able to reconstruct a plausible, if sketchy, vita.
Drawing on literary references, dialect evidence, and geographical speculation, scholars have concluded that Wolfram’s home was probably in Eschenbach bei Ansbach, Franconia (now in Germany). There is no record of his family, of his formative years, or of his schooling. In fact, Wolfram’s innocent pronouncement in Parzival, “I don’t know a single letter of the alphabet,” has become enigmatic: Does he intend to admit his unlearned background, to boast of his literary accomplishment despite his inability to read and write, or to twit his educated principal critic, Gottfried? In any event, it is clear that he was not formally educated, for influences of classical Latin writers (a staple in the monastery schools) are absent in his poems. Significantly, Wolfram himself never mentioned having “read” from his literary sources; his frequent references to having “heard” information leads scholars to presume that source material was actually dictated to him by a succession of literate scribes. One assumes today that Wolfram was an autodidact who learned those things necessary for the background of his tales; he was certainly familiar with French literature of the day and well acquainted with the works of contemporary German authors.
Despite his fame as a poet, Wolfram considered himself to be first and foremost a knight, though it is unlikely that he ever wielded a sword. As a layman and member of the petty nobility, he was unpropertied and poor his entire life, at the mercy of his patrons and audience. One of Wolfram’s patrons, at least for a time, was the fabled Landgrave Herrmann of Thuringia; the legendary Sängerkrieg, or troubadours’ competition, at Hermann’s castle, however, appears to be only that: a legend.
A definitive chronology of Wolfram’s works cannot be established. His lyric poetry, of which only nine songs still exist, consists primarily of Tagelieder, or morning songs—some of the finest in German poetry. Since there are so few, and they are of a conventional nature, most scholars presume that they were created before Wolfram’s greater epic poems. From historical references included in the work, it appears that Parzival was begun about the beginning of the thirteenth century and, with interruption, finally completed approximately ten years later. Willehalm would appear to be the most mature of Wolfram’s writings in style and content, while the other fragment, Schionatulander and Sigune, contains a historical note that suggests that it originated well after the completion of Parzival. The details of Wolfram’s death remain a mystery. He is thought to have died in Eschenbach bei Ansbach about 1217; one contemporary insists that he died while writing the manuscript of Schionatulander and Sigune.
ANALYSIS
The small corpus of nine songs that can be safely attributed to Wolfram von Eschenbach were presumably composed early in his literary career. More than half of these can be categorized as Tagelieder, or morning songs, a type of courtly poem that Wolfram refined for his German audience. The typical situation depicts daybreak and the call of the watchman, announcing the day’s arrival to a pair of young lovers. Obviously, the man must leave, for if he were seen, his honor and the lady’s reputation would be ruined. There is a tearful farewell, a last embrace, and the man departs. Wolfram’s songs develop this theme artistically, allowing each of the three figures—watchman, man, and woman—to present in turn the episode from his (or her) individual point of view. Wolfram employed rhythmic crescendos to accentuate the dramatic moments of daybreak and farewell in a sensual atmosphere.
One noteworthy variation among Wolfram’s lyrics is the antimorning song. Here, the poet speaks directly to the watchman, reprimanding him for warning the waking lovers. In praise of connubial bliss, the poet extolls the security of matrimony, which requires no secrecy and no painful farewells at dawn. Although this song is not one of Wolfram’s finer creations, it does highlight his witty and often mocking temperament, a trait that can be traced throughout his later works. The same parodistic tone is evident in the remaining songs. The common theme in these poems is courting the favor of a lady. Conventional and even second-rank in appearance, these works display qualities that parody the entire established tradition of courtly love poetry. By pirating famous lines from other poems and including trite love phrases, Wolfram created fanciful songs that attest the superficiality of courtly conventions.
PARZIVAL
Wolfram’s greatest achievement is clearly Parzival. This epic romance is enormous in scope, portraying literally dozens of legendary characters who span Europe and Asia over an extended period of time. The number of questions surrounding its creation are enormous as well: Which source or sources inspired Wolfram? Is Parzival indebted to Chrêtien de Troyes and Robert de Boron, to a combination of various related tales, or to the mysterious “Kyot,” as Wolfram insists? Was the work interrupted by war or by Wolfram’s changing mood? Was it written under the auspices of one or more patrons? Was the work composed in the same chronological order in which it appears today? Were the first two books—that is, the prologue—written only after the completion of the entire manuscript and then added to the beginning of Parzival’s story? These are a few of the nagging questions surrounding Wolfram’s classic tale. It is certain only that Parzival was not written in one uninterrupted effort and that publication of separate episodes preceded the final edition of almost twenty-five thousand lines.
Though Parzival is an Arthurian romance, it is clearly differentiated from earlier versions by its non-Celtic preoccupation with Christianity and the Holy Grail. Artificially divided into sixteen books by the philologist Karl Lachmann, the work traces the life and development of Parzival and his Arthurian counterpart, Gawan. In a prologue, the audience learns that Parzival’s father, Gahmuret, was an exemplary knight. Through a series of adventures, Gahmuret wins and marries first a heathen queen and then a Christian queen, finally to die in chivalric pursuit of further love and fame. Upon the birth of her son, Parzival, the Christian queen fears that he will end like his father; therefore, she rears the boy in complete ignorance of courtly society. One day, young Parzival encounters several knights and immediately decides that he, too, must partake of this splendid life. For his protection, his mother sends him off in fool’s garb and gives misleading advice, hoping that he will soon return unharmed and chastened. After his departure, she dies of a broken heart, but young Parzival perseveres, soon joining King Arthur’s knights at the Round Table. He then discovers the Grail Castle and its king, Anfortas, who suffers from a most painful affliction. Failing to “ask the question”—that is, to show compassion and inquire as to the origins of the wound and the condition of the king—Parzival is expelled from the castle for his uncharitable silence. Because of his ignorance, inexperience, and overwhelming desire to become a knight, he commits numerous sins of omission and commission. Guided only by his heart and the wise counsel of the hermit, Trevrezent, Parzival matures through years of lonely struggle, proving that he is worthy of his responsibilities as a knight and as a Christian.
As Parzival wanders off into the wilderness in search of himself, Wolfram introduces Gawan, a member in good standing of Arthur’s Round Table. Gawan is the epitome of the medieval knight, at once adept in chivalric combat and skillful in the conventional graces required of all nobility. He is ever willing to fight on behalf of a worthy cause or a beautiful lady, and he fulfills his Christian duties with similar ease. During the course of the tale, Wolfram clearly distinguishes Gawan from Parzival on one crucial issue: Gawan’s Christianity is the fulfillment of a chivalric vow, an obligation to which he is committed, while Parzival’s spiritual quest derives from inner motivation. Whereas Gawan accepts his religion unquestioningly, Parzival must struggle with doubt, at one point even renouncing God for his apparent injustice. This difference is finally decisive; it is the reason that Parzival and not Gawan will ultimately become Grail King—that is, the personification of the highest values both in worldly society (as king) and in the spiritual realm (of the Grail). At the conclusion of the epic, Parzival is crowned King of the Grail, reunited with his wife and friends, and introduced to a stranger from India; this speckled man is his half brother, Feirefiz, the child of Gahmuret’s heathen queen. Together, from Europe to India (that being the extent of the known world in Wolfram’s day), the sons of Gahmuret will uphold courtly and Christian values, to the benefit of all humankind.
It is clear, then, that Parzival is not the shallow, disorganized composition described by Wolfram’s critics. The epic can and should be considered on various levels: as a historical depiction of the encounter between East and West, evidenced by the Crusades and the Christian mission to baptize non-Christians; as an Arthurian romance in which the knight’s achievements are judged by this exemplary courtly society; as a “double novel” concerning the separate exploits of both Parzival and Gawan; and, finally, as an account of the spiritual development of a worthy soul from simpleton to sage, from sin to redemption and the attainment of humility and purity.
SCHIONATULANDER AND SIGUNE
Schionatulander and Sigune, like Willehalm, is an epic fragment composed at the end of Wolfram’s life. The 164 stanzas of the original were later expanded by an anonymous poet who added more than six thousand stanzas to form Der jüngere Titurel (c. 1272)—though this final version does not seem to correspond to Wolfram’s intentions. In any event, most scholars believe that the work is nearly complete as it now stands. There are few possibilities for diversion; the inevitable conclusion (Schionatulander’s death) clearly limits the narrative’s chronological scope.
Though there is an indication that Schionatulander and Sigune was Wolfram’s final work, most scholars would prefer to place Willehalm in that position, based primarily on sentimental reasons. The latter deals with major ethical and philosophical questions concerning world peace and interdenominational coexistence, while the former is a tale revolving around two minor characters from Parzival. The German title Titurel is, in fact, a misnomer, corrected in the English translation (according to medieval custom, the title was taken from the name of the first character to appear). Thus, in a prologue, old King Titurel reflects on his long and eventful life before surrendering his kingdom and the Holy Grail to his son. Years later, one of Titurel’s grandchildren marries a knight, only to die in childbirth; her surviving offspring is Sigune. Already the attentive listener will recall from Parzival this fateful name; Sigune is shown mourning the death of her beloved Schionatulander, who died at the hand of Orilus. This fragment, then, accounts for the earlier years of their relationship and clarifies their tragic fate. In short, the two youths fall in love and must abide by courtly convention—that is, they must restrain their passion. While on a walk in the forest one day, they discover a dog wearing a jeweled collar; the collar itself is inscribed with the love story of a similar couple. Before Sigune can finish reading the story, the dog dashes off. She then declares that she will not grant her love to Schionatulander until he brings back the collar. Here the fragment ends. From episodes appearing in Parzival, the listener knows that this pure, youthful love can never be fulfilled and that Sigune will spend the rest of her days mourning her lost lover until they are reunited in Heaven.
The theme here is tragic, the atmosphere filled with the poet’s realization that life’s brief happiness must be purchased at a fearful price. Sigune does not criticize the courtly conventions by which she must act (although some critics note that her trivial demand leads to her lover’s death); as mentioned above, several other couples in Wolfram’s works suffer similar losses. Sigune must learn to live with her fate and accept the fact that she was destined to love Schionatulander chastely, in sublimation of their great passion for each other. Loyalty, constancy, and God’s grace will ultimately purify their love.
WILLEHALM
It is generally agreed that even had Wolfram not written his Parzival, he would deserve lasting fame for his Schionatulander and Sigune and for Willehalm. While Schionatulander and Sigune depicts the beauties and sorrows of courtly love, Willehalm is strikingly innovative in its treatment of timeless values. Wolfram’s primary source, Bataille d’Aliscans (late twelfth century), was provided by Landgrave Herrmann of Thuringia for a commission, though the epic Wolfram created went far beyond the original, in scope and significance. The historical Willehalm (Guillaume d’Orange) contributed to the defeat of invading Arabs with his valiant efforts in combat, yet scarcely ten years later he renounced worldly ambitions and entered a monastery. Although Wolfram does not specifically emphasize this aspect of Willehalm’s spiritual development, it becomes obvious that his story is intended as a sort of Legende, or life of a saint.
As one would assume from the French source, war is a major theme in Willehalm. Willehalm, the son of Count Henry of Narbonne, is sent into the world to seek his fortune at the court of Charlemagne. After numerous adventures, Willehalm marries Gyburg, the daughter of a heathen king who then invades Willehalm’s realm to reclaim his daughter. Willehalm gathers his army and engages in fierce battles with the enemy. In spite of his ferocity, Willehalm’s heroic exploits are not to be misconstrued; his immediate desire is simply to protect his wife. The increasingly murderous battle scenes are twice interrupted by carefully placed interludes; in both instances, Willehalm is able to rejoin Gyburg, and the couple enjoy a brief respite from the war in each other’s arms. Here, Wolfram presents conjugal love as an extension of God’s love, as a means to offset the brutal reality of life and as a form of unio mystica through which God’s grace can be anticipated. Gradually, Willehalm and Gyburg come to the realization that both heathen and Christian are children of God, that it is a great loss when so many must die. Wolfram’s is the first depiction in German literature of a loving, merciful God who would protect all his children, regardless of their faith. Following the conclusive victory over the heathen army, Willehalm’s newly gained tolerance is very much in evidence; he frees his prisoners, allowing the vanquished to collect their dead and transport them to their homeland, there to be honored and buried according to their own religious customs.
Knights of the Middle Ages were deeply imbued with an Augustinian worldview: Heathens were servants of the Devil, and it was the duty of all Christians to destroy the infidel, thereby achieving more quickly the Kingdom of God on Earth. If one killed a heathen, honor and fame were the reward; if one were killed fighting heathens, so much the better, for the knight was guaranteed eternal life in Heaven. The Crusades were conducted in this spirit. Willehalm, too, pronounces his support for this credo at the outset, but as the story progresses and the slaughter mounts on both sides, Willehalm undergoes a dramatic change of heart. His initial missionary zeal, reminiscent of the Crusades, is replaced by understanding and tolerance. Thus does Wolfram combine his two major themes of war and love in a strikingly innovative presentation that proved extremely popular with its audiences.
Wolfram depicts two contending armies, heathen and Christian, which nevertheless are governed by similar conventions: knights on both sides fighting on behalf of their ladies in courtly service. Though the heathens are influenced by an almost carnal love, which is raised to a religious fervor, the Christians are motivated by courtly love and spiritual devotion to God. Wolfram’s critical insight here is that both sides represent poles of one great love that originates in God. This sophisticated concept of love is Wolfram’s contribution to eternal respect, love, and peace.
Willehalm could have concluded with a happy ending reminiscent of fairy tales, but the older Wolfram sought a more realistic solution, one which recognized that life’s brief joys are often outweighed by horrendous tragedy and sadness. Despite obvious similarities, the significant differences between Parzival and Willehalm concern the appearance of this new reality, akin to the modern concept of existential angst. These differences are partly the result of the differences in the two distinct literary forms, the romance, which calls for a reliable reassuring order, and the battle epic, which draws attention to the fragility of human existence. In Willehalm, Wolfram demonstrates that courtly convention is precisely that: a formality that does not protect the individual from the vicissitudes of life. Here it becomes evident how far Wolfram has strayed from the Augustinian attitude. His literary creation, Willehalm, is no missionary zealot, possessed with exterminating the heathens. He is a defender of Christian values as embodied in the Holy Roman Empire, though his martial duties are as painful to him as his enforced separation from his wife, Gyburg. However, she, too, plays an important role in this new vision of Christian tolerance, for in this character Wolfram has created perhaps the most vivid portrait of a woman in all medieval literature. Though Gyburg, as a woman, has no recourse to such knightly philosophy, she represents in her person the admirable traits of humanity, piety, mercy, and love, which are a reflection of God’s grace. Like Willehalm, Gyburg is proclaimed a saint at the story’s conclusion.
Out of a desire for symmetry or the aforementioned sentimentality, most scholars would find it especially fitting if Willehalm—this mature, noble, and modern work—were Wolfram’s last testament. His Parzival will continue to inspire readers with its idealism, but it is Willehalm which offers the most hope to humankind through its thoughtful and realistic portrayal of tolerance and universal love as antidotes to the eternal curses of prejudice, hate, and aggression.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Gibbs, Marion E., and Sidney M. Johnson. “Wolfram von Eschenbach.” In German Literature of the High Middle Ages, edited by Will Hasty. Rochester, N.Y.: Camden House, 2006. Briefly discusses what is known about Wolfram and contains sections on his best-known writings, as well as his songs.
Groos, Arthur. Romancing the Grail: Genre, Science, and Quest in Wolfram’s “Parzival.” Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1995. With roots in the critical theory of Russian scholar Mikhail Bakhtin, this study examines the narrative discourse of one of Wolfram’s major poems. Unfortunately, Groos is not especially successful in applying a critical theory that was designed to interpret modern novels to this major work of medieval poetry. Moreover, he does not pay enough attention to Wolfram’s other major works.
Hasty, Will, ed. A Companion to Wolfram’s “Parzival.” Columbia, S.C.: Camden House, 1999. Essays provide analysis of the popular vernacular work as well as social and cultural context.
Hughes, Jolyon Timothy. Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Criticism of “Minnedienst” in His Narrative Works. Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 2009. Examines Parzival and Schionatulander and Sigune for Minnedienst (“love service”) and how it negatively affects female characters.
Jones, Martin, and Timothy McFarland, eds. Wolfram’s “Willehalm”: Fifteen Essays. New York: Camden House, 2001. Jones and McFarland provide fifteen essays on Wolfram’s epic of the Christian-Muslim conflict, placing it in historical and literary context and elucidating the epic’s main themes, characters, and techniques.
Murphy, G. Ronald. Gemstone of Paradise: The Holy Grail in Wolfram’s “Parzival.” New York: Oxford University Press, 2006. Murphy examines the Holy Grail, which Chrétien de Troyes had described as a golden serving dish set with jewels, large enough for a fish, and linked to Celtic traditions, and which Robert de Boron had described as a chalice and associated with Christianity. Wolfram instead asserts that the grail is a green stone, with special powers.
Poag, James F. Wolfram von Eschenbach. New York: Twayne, 1972. A useful introduction with quotations in both English and German. Contains index and bibliography.
Sivertson, Randal. Loyalty and Riches in Wolfram’s “Parzifal.” New York: Peter Lang, 1999. A reinterpretation of Parzival as the presentation of a conflict in medieval knighthood between the fight for abstract ideals and service for material gain. The author argues that Wolfram’s epic defends feudal values that were in a state of decline. Compares works by Chrétien de Troyes and others.
Starkey, Kathryn. Reading the Medieval Book: Word, Image, and Performance in Wolfram von Eschenbach’s “Willehalm.” Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 2004. Starkey relates the image and performance of Willehalm to the written word in an attempt to further understanding of the work.
Wynn, Marianne. Wolfram’s “Parzival”: On the Genesis of Its Poetry. 2d ed. New York: Peter Lang, 2002. Examines Parzival as poetry, examining Wolfram’s creative process.
Todd C. Hanlin