Parzival

by Wolfram von Eschenbach

  ‘If a man meets you in a joust you must be quick to thrust it through his shield so that the lance splinters. If you do much of that you will be praised in the hearing of the ladies.’

  The story tells us that no shield-painter from Cologne or Maastricht could have portrayed him to better effect than as he sat there on his charger.

  ‘Dear friend, my companion,’ he said to Iwanet, ‘I have won what I asked for. Go into the city and pay my respects to King Arthur, and return his golden goblet to him. Tell him of the deep disgrace I suffered: a knight offended me by striking a young lady who honoured me with her laughter. Her pitiful words have moved me deeply, not merely brushing against my heart – no! the lady’s undeserved sufferings are lodged at its core! Now by your companionship, feel with me in my shame. May God protect you! – I am going now. – He has power to preserve us both.’

  He left Ither of Gaheviez lying in pitiful state. Ither looked so handsome for all that he was dead. Alive he was Fortune’s darling. Had he met his end in chivalrous combat with a lance-thrust through his shield who would then lament a tragedy?*

  HE DIED OF A JAVELIN

  Iwanet gathered some bright flowers to cover him, then planted the javelin-shaft above him in token of the Crucifixion. And then with seemly dignity the page forced a stick through the javelin-head to make a cross. This done, he at once went in to the city to tell news at which many a lady despaired and many a knight wept, showing his attachment through his grief. They all suffered great affliction there.

  The dead man was brought in with great solemnity. The Queen rode out from the city and commanded the Monstrance to be brought and raised above the King of Cucumerlant whom Parzival had slain.

  The Lady Queen Ginover spoke these expressive words of grief:

  ‘Out and alas! This strange and dire event will shatter Arthur’s noble fame! – That he who by rights should bear the palm before all at the Table Round should lie slain here in sight of Nantes! He did but acclaim his heritage and was accorded – death! When all is said, he was a member of our Household of such behaviour that ear never heard of any misdeed of his. If perfidy is wild then he was tame: from his parchment it was all erased. Now and all too soon it is my lot to inter the very Clasp on the Roll of Fame! His courteous heart – surety written and sealed above the Clasp – counselled him only the best wherever pursuit of woman’s love needs proof of manly faith and fearless will. A new and fertile seed of grief is sown among us women!

  From out thy wound lamentation issues on the air! So red were thy locks, thy blood could not have made the fair flowers redder! Woman’s laughter thou hast squandered all away!’

  Illustrious Ither was laid to rest with royal pomp. His death pierced womankind with sighs. His armour had proved his ruin. Simple Parzival’s wish to have it had been the end of him. Later, on reaching years of discretion, Parzival wished he had not done it.

  The lad’s charger had the peculiarity that it made light of heavy-going, hot or cold. Whether it were hoofing it over stone or fallen tree-trunks it did not sweat from its labours on the way. There was never any need for Parzival to narrow its girth by so much as a single hole, even though he kept the saddle for two days at a stretch. Fully armed, the naive young man rode it in that one day as far as an old campaigner, minus his gear, would never have attempted had he been asked to ride it in two! Moreover he put it to a gallop, seldom to a trot, and never reined him in.

  Towards evening Parzival saw the pinnacles and roofing of a tower. It seemed to him in his simplicity as though towers were growing more and more – a whole cluster stood there on a castle I He imagined Arthur must have sown them, and he put it down to Arthur’s sanctity, thinking him a man of many blessings.

  ‘My mother’s men can’t farm like this,’ said the raw young man. ‘Of the crops she has in the forest none grow as high as this, yet there is no lack of heavy rain.’

  The lord of the castle he was now riding up to was Gurnemanz de Graharz. Below the walls stood a spreading lime in a green meadow perfect for length and breadth. Path and horse conspired to lead him to where the lord of the castle and the land was seated. Great weariness was making Parzival swing his shield in a manner not correct – too much to the fore or rear and in no style to earn one praise. Prince Gurnemanz was sitting alone, while the leafy crown of the lime yielded its tribute of shade to this captain of true courtesy. A man whose nature shunned all double-dealing, Gurnemanz received his guest as he was bound. No knight or page was in attendance there.

  Prompted by youthful ignorance, Parzival was quick with his response: ‘My mother asked me to seek advice of a man whose locks were grey. I will serve you in return, seeing my mother said so.’

  ‘If you have come to seek advice, give me your good will so that I can advise you – if that is what you want.’

  The noble prince cast a moulted sparrowhawk from his fist. It swung into the castle tinkling a golden bell it wore. It was a messenger, for at once a troop of handsome pages came and joined them. Gurnemanz asked them to conduct his guest into the castle and see to his comfort.

  ‘My mother was right,’ said the boy. ‘An old man’s words are free of guile.’

  They led him without delay to where there was a throng of knights. At a place in the courtyard they all begged him to dismount. ‘It was a king who commanded me to be a knight,’ said the lad who was obviously naive. ‘Whatever happens to me up here I’ll not get off this horse!* My mother told me to greet you.’ They thanked both him and her. Greetings over – the beast was weary, the man no less – they framed many an entreaty before they got him off his horse and into a chamber. ‘Allow your armour to be removed and your limbs eased,’ they all urged him. Whether he wanted it or no, he was soon unarmed. When those who attended him set eyes on the shaggy buskins and his fool’s garb they were aghast. They retailed it to my lord with deep dismay, and he almost despaired, so pained was he. But a knight had the courtesy to say ‘I declare my eyes never saw such noble progeny! His looks are such as Fortune herself would scan approvingly, allied with the pure, sweet traits of noble birth! How comes it that the very Glance of Love should be in this predicament? I shall forever regret it that I saw the Court’s Delight attired in this fashion! A blessing on the mother that bore him who has so many perfections! His turn-out is magnificent. Until it was removed from his comely person his armour made a splendid knight of him. I then at, once observed the marks of a bloody bruise on him.’

  ‘It was done at the bidding of some lady,’ his lordship told the knight.

  ‘Oh, no, my lord! With his manners he could never woo a lady into acceptance of his service, well favoured for love though he be.’

  ‘Well,’ said his lordship, ‘let us go and see this boy whose clothes are so very odd.’

  They went along to Parzival who had been wounded by a lance that was not shattered. Gurnemanz tended him so kindly that an affectionate father could not have cared for his own children better. He washed and bandaged his wound with his own hands.

  Supper was now served. The stranger was in desperate need of it. After riding out from the fisherman’s that morning without breakfast he was famished. His wound and the heavy armour he had bagged before Nantes spoke to him of weariness and hunger, not to mention the long day’s ride from Arthur the Briton’s, where they had all let him go hungry. This host asked him to sit and sup with him, and here the stranger regaled himself. He applied himself to the manger with such a will that he made a pile of provender vanish out of sight. His host took this as a joke. Loyal Gurnemanz begged him to tuck in heartily and forget his weariness.

  The time came for the board to be removed. ‘You are tired, aren’t you?’ asked his host. ‘Were you up early?’

  ‘Heaven knows, my mother was still asleep. She doesn’t rise so early.’ Gurnemanz laughed and led him to his sleeping quarters. He asked him to strip. This he was reluctant to do, yet it had to be. A coverlet of ermine was spread over his naked body – no woman ever bore such nob
le progeny.

  Great fatigue and lack of sleep saw to it that he rarely turned on to his other side – that was how he waited for the dawn. The noble Prince had ordered a bath to be got ready for mid- morning at the carpet’s edge near where he lay, and on the morrow so it had to be. On it they strewed roses. Though they did not raise their voices as they moved around him he woke from sleep. The charming young noble man went and sat in the tub.

  Now I do not know who asked them, but some lovely girls, superbly gowned, came in with due regard for the niceties. They bathed and massaged the marks of his bruises away with their soft white hands. There was small need for him to feel lost and uncared for here, orphaned though he was of common sense! Thus he suffered his pleasure and ease. His lack of worldly wisdom was not made a butt for any unkindness on their part. Thus these modest, daring young ladies curried him down, and whatever they prattled of he said nothing. He had no reason to think it too early, for a second day shone out from them, one radiance vying with the other. And yet these two lights were quenched by his own countenance – in such matters he did not fall short.

  They offered him a bath-robe but he ignored it, so bashful was he in the presence of ladies. He refused to take it and wrap it round him while they were looking on. The young ladies had to go, they dared not stand there any longer. I fancy they would have liked to see if he had sustained any harm down below, for women are such sympathetic creatures, they are always moved to pity by a friend’s sufferings.

  The visitor strode up to the bed. A doublet all of white lay ready for him. They threaded it with a girdle of silk and gold for his breeches. They next smoothed some hose of red scarlet* on to the fearless lad. – What a marvellous pair of legs! What a truly elegant sight! Tunic and mantle were of brown scarlet, well cut, long, and duly lined with dazzling ermine. At the front, broad trimmings met the eye – of sable, black and grey. All this the comely boy put on. It was held by a costly girdle and fastened and adorned by a precious clasp. Against it all his mouth glowed red.

  His loyal host then appeared in order to welcome him, followed by a proud company of knights. This done, these gentlemen all declared they had never seen so handsome a form. They praised from their hearts the woman who had borne such progeny to the world. ‘He can count on a generous response from any lady he serves to win her favour,’ they asserted no less for truth than courtesy. ‘A good reception and enjoyment of love are his for the asking, granted his worth is appreciated.’ All paid him the same tribute, these and others who saw him in days to come.

  His host took him by the hand and led him out companionably. The noble prince asked him how he had slept that night beneath his roof.

  ‘If on the day I left my mother she had not told me to come here, I should not have survived it.’

  ‘May God reward both you and her. Sir, you are very kind.’

  Our simple warrior went to where Mass was sung to God and for his lordship. At Mass the latter taught him something that would still increase one’s blessings today: to make his offering and cross himself and so punish the Devil.

  After this they went to the Palace, where the table was ready laid. The stranger sat down beside his host. He did not eat his meal as though he scorned it. ‘Do not be offended, sir, if I ask where you journeyed from,’ said his host politely. The boy told him in all detail how he had ridden away from his mother, about the ring and the brooch, and how he had won his armour. Gurnemanz recognized the Red Knight and sighed with compassion for his tragic end. But he insisted that his guest should bear his name, calling him ‘The Red Knight’.

  After the board had been removed a wild spirit was tamed...

  ‘You speak like a child,’ said my lord to his guest. ‘Why do you not stop talking of your mother and turn your mind to other things? Keep to my advice, it will save you from wrongdoing.

  ‘This is how I shall begin – allow me! You must never lose your sense of shame. If one is past all shame what is one fit for? One lives like a bird in moult, shedding good qualities like plumes all pointing down to Hell. You have a trim figure and good looks and may well be ruler of a people. If you are indeed of high, aspiring race, bear this in mind: compassionate the needy, ward off their distress with kindness and generosity. Practise humility. A man of standing fallen on evil days has to wrestle with his pride – a bitter struggle this! You should be ready to help him. If you relieve such a man’s distress God’s blessing will seek you out. Such men are in worse plight than those who beg bread at windows.

  ‘You must be rich and poor with discretion. A nobleman who squanders his property does not display a noble spirit, while if he hoards Wealth to excess it will bring dishonour.

  ‘Give moderation its due. It is clear to me that you need counsel. Now have done with unformed ways!

  ‘Do not ask many questions. Yet if someone has a mind to sift you with words, you should not hold back a considered answer that keeps straight to the point.

  ‘You can hear, see, taste and smell: that ought to lead you to reason. Temper daring with mercy: show me you have followed my advice in this. When you have won a man’s submission in battle, accept it and let him live, unless he has done you mortal wrong.

  ‘You will have to bear arms very often, but when they are laid aside, see that you wash your face and hands. When iron has left its rusty smear it is high time! You will then regain your handsome looks, and women’s eyes will notice it.

  ‘Be manly and cheerful: it will enhance your reputation. Hold the ladies in high esteem: that heightens a young man’s worth. Do not forsake their cause for a single day. These and such thoughts should inspire a man. If you care to lie to them you will be able to deceive many. But cunning prospers only for a while as against noble love… The dry wood in the thicket snaps and crackles to accuse the prowler, and the watchman is roused. Many a fight breaks out in park and wasteland. Compare this with noble love, which has its remedies for cunning and deceit. If you earn Love’s disfavour you will surely be disgraced and suffer shame’s endless torment.

  ‘Take this lesson to heart, for I have more to say to you about women. Man and woman are all one, like the sun that shone this morning and what we call “day”. Neither can be parted from the other, they blossom from the self-same seed. Note that, and give it thought.’

  The stranger thanked his host for his teaching with a bow. Not a word did he say of his mother aloud, though he did so in his heart, as an affectionate man may still do today.

  His lordship most creditably continued. ‘There is more for you to learn of knightly ways. Think how you rode up to me! I have seen many a wall on which shields were better hung than the one slung round your neck! It is not too late, let us hurry to the meadow. There you will grow more expert. Bring him his horse – mine too – and every knight his own! Let pages come as well, each with a stout new shaft!’

  And so the prince rode out on to the field, where feats of horsemanship were performed. He taught his guest how to throw his mount from the gallop to full tilt with a sharp touch of the spur and thighs beating like wings, how to lower his lance to the correct angle and cover himself with his shield against his opponent’s thrust – ‘Like this, allow me!’ he said. In this way Gurnemanz kept him from unmannerliness better than with the pliant rod that cuts the skin of wanton boys. Next he asked some dashing knights to ride a joust against him and led him to the tourneying-ground to meet one. The lad delivered his first thrust through a shield in a style all thought excessive: for he swung a sturdy knight, no mean man, back over his horse’s crupper!

  A new jouster was there, and Parzival had taken a stout new lance. Youth was paired in him with strength and spirit. Urged on by the blood that flowed in him from Gahmuret and the courage to which he was heir, the charming, beardless youth rode his galloper in headlong charge, aiming at the four rivets.* His host’s knight failed to keep his seat and hurtled down, measuring his length on the field amid a shower of chips from shattered shafts.

  In this way Parzival thru
st down five of them. My lord took him and led him in again. Parzival had had the best of it at sport there; but in after-days he grew to be expert in war. The tried hands who had watched his riding declared that pluck and skill attended him. ‘Now my lord will be rid of his grief and take a new lease of life. If he has any sense he will give him our lady his daughter to wife, then his sorrows will be at an end. Fortune has not forgotten him after all – amends for three dead sons has ridden up to court!’

  Thus his lordship returned in the evening. Orders were given for the board to be laid and (as I heard) he summoned his daughter to table.

  Now hear what my lord said to lovely Liaze when he saw the girl approaching. ‘Allow this knight to kiss you and show him all respect. He has Fortune herself for guide. As to you, sir, we would require you to leave the girl her ring – if she had one. But she has none, nor brooch, either. Who would supply her with such things like the lady in the forest? She had someone to give her what you later chanced to acquire. There is nothing you can take from Liaze.’ The stranger blushed. Yet he kissed her on her lips which were as red as fire. Liaze was charming, with a wealth of true modesty.

  The table was low and long. No need for my lord to use his elbows there – he sat alone at its head! He seated his guest between himself and his daughter. Whatever the one they called ‘The Red Knight’ wished to eat, Liaze had to carve or cut it with her soft white hands as the host had bidden her. None was to interfere if they showed signs of growing intimacy. Well-bred girl that she was, Liaze did all that her father asked of her. She and the guest made a handsome pair.

  After supper the girl withdrew at once. In this way they continued to entertain the warrior for a fortnight. But the one trouble in his heart was this: he wished for more fighting before he would warm to what are called a woman’s arms. As he saw it, it was noble ambition that led to triumph in this life and the next, words that keep their truth today.