HERZELOYDE AND ANTIKONIE. SOME ASPECTS COMPARED

German Life and Letters 41:4 July 1988 0016-8777 $2.00

HERZELOYDE AND ANTIKONIE. SOME ASPECTS COMPARED.

DAVID DUCKWORTH

At first sight it may appear incredible that anyone should want to compare the two characters Herzeloyde and Antikonie. One’s first reaction on reading Parzival is the same one that is tacitly accepted by the main body of criticism: their characters are so disparate that they tend to be regarded as opposites in every respect.

It is clear that this first impression misses a good deal of what our author is attempting to bring out in his character portrayal. We think of Herzeloyde as the loving (or selfish?) mother, and of Antikonie as a very forward young lady, and yet a closer inspection of the text shows Wolfram at great pains to demonstrate Herzeloyde’s unwomanly forwardness:

er saz viir si s8 n&e nider, daz si in begreif und z8ch in wider anderhalp vaste an ir lip. si was ein maget und niht ein w?p. (84.3ff.)

Indeed she pursues her aims even in direct opposition to Gahmuret’s deeper inclinations and overriding loyalties, as the passages 94.lff and 96.7ff make abundantly clear. In Book Eight on the other hand we are left in no doubt that Antikonie and Gawan both feel the urge of love with equal vehemence:

von der liebe alsolhe n8t gewan beidiu maget und ouch der man, daz d l nlch was ein dinc geschehen, hetenz iibel ougen niht ersehen: des willen si beide wlren bereit. (407.5ff.)

In the case of both characters there seems to be a discrepancy between the initial impression their actions make on the reader and Wolfram’s apparently superlative eulogies. As Yeandle writes, referring to Herzeloyde, ‘her negative actions outweigh the positive’, and yet we are faced with ‘a much larger pro- portion of positive rather than negative narratorial comments’ (p. 6). Another critic, Mohr, writes that in Book Eight Wolfram’s commentary contributes more ‘zur Verunklarung als zur Klarung‘ (p. 26).

Be this as it may, we cannot escape the fact that our author in both cases allows his characters to retire from the plot with his listeners’ ears reverberating to their praise. Long after reading the poem we remember that Herzeloyde was a ‘vrouwe valsches laz’ (128.20) who endured the hardships of Soltane ‘ d u d triuwe’ (116.19) and died a ‘vil getriulicher t8t’ (128.23). Much later we are reminded of the rich legacy of kiurche, erbannunge and tn’uwe she leaves to her son (451.5ff.). The praise showered on Antikonie is unforgettable too, she

HERZELOYDE AND ANTIKONIE. SOME ASPECTS COMPARED 333

remains for us ‘die kiusche und die siieze’ and ‘diu siieze saelden riche’ (427.6/19). The attentive reader cannot help but see all these comments against the background of Wolfram’s words in the prologue, where he extols the womanly virtues of kiusche and triuwe (3.2), and the later passage where he says:

wtpheit, din ordenlfcher site, dem vert und vuor ie triuwe mite. (1 16.13f.)

In this short article I would like to compare a selection of published assessments of both characters and to make some suggestions as to how we ought to proceed in this problematic area.

HERZELOYDE

One of the most striking characteristics of the purely positive views of Herzeloyde is a tendency to ignore all events previous to Gahmuret’s death.

As early as 1819, Lachmann was writing of the ‘zarte Unschuld und Treue Herzeloidens’ (p. 294)’ and Ehrismann is quite unequivocal: ‘Sie ist ein menschliches Abbild der schmerzensreichen Mutter’; he argues that she has no selfish motives whatever, not even when she sends Parzival off in fool’s clothing (111, p. 263). Maurer writes in a similar vein: her life is ‘das Symbol der leidenden triuwe, des Leides, das herauswachst aus der liebevollen Verbundenheit mit Mann und Sohn’ (p. 118). Wehrli praises her too, and brings in a new aspect, the influence of her femininity on the young Parzival: ‘Dieses ‘Weibliche” ist [ . . . ] das Ziel des Helden. Seine Schicksale sind wie eine reich gestufte Initiation des torichten Jiinglings in die Welt des Weiblichen’

Heise fully realises that many of Herzeloyde’s actions lay her open to a charge of egotism, but she staunchly argues the case for innocence. In the opening lines of Book Three we witness ‘Entsagung aus triuwd, which Wolfram regards as ‘Leistung und Lauterung‘ and ‘helle Verklarung ihrer Gestalt’. Her love for Gahmuret in Parzival leads her to humility and to an experience of the unity of happiness and sorrow (p. 59). In Soltane she withholds an appropriate education from her son, but the decisive thing is what she gives him by way of positive qualities. Her religious teaching should not be seen in a negative light, as Trevrizent picks up the thread later, and Parzival accepts his teaching because it coincides with his mother‘s, which is ‘wahr, wesentlich und dem Kind verstandlich‘. Her worldly instructions contain ‘klare, gute Werte’ (p. 56f.). Herzeloyde does not make things easy for her son, but this is because he ‘mit seinem Rittertum ganz von unten anfangen mug. We must not see her in a too narrow way - she overcomes herself and tells him about ‘Frauendienst’ and Liihelin (p. 57).

Nebeneinander stehen hier die Gegensatze der Liebe, die den andern Menschen halten mochte und der Liebe, die verzichtend, den andern Menschen in seinem Eigensein sieht und bestarkt. (p. 58)

(P. 35).

334 HERZELOYDE AND ANTIKONIE. SOME ASPECTS COMPARED

With the hymn of praise after her death ‘umgibt Wolfram die Gestalt der Herzeloyde im 3. Buch mit dem hellen Schein einer uberirdischen Verklarung‘

A purely realistic approach can clearly be fraught with dangers, and thus Heise gives us hints of the possibility of another level of reality when she uses terms like ‘Verklarung‘ and ‘heller Schein’. Other critics have gone further in this direction: towards an allegorical interpretation. The best known of these is Schroder, in his book of 1963. Commenting on the ‘widerspruchsvolle Herzeloyde’, he explains that ‘es ist der alte Gegensatz von Eva und Maria [ . . . 1. Herzeloyde ist beides, sie ist Eva und Maria zugleich’. She and Parzival are ‘rein dichterisch-fiktive Gestalten, sie sind in der Tat “Figuren”, die so agieren, wie es das heilsgeschichtliche Urbild [ . . . ] vorschreibt’ (p. 77 and 61). This attempt at a purely allegorical interpretation has proved to be very un- popular among later critics; Kratz even goes so far as to refer to it as ‘involved, fantastic and ridiculous’ (p. 484). A similar yet fundamentally different view is adopted by Wolf, who analyses

Wolfram’s technique of composition, especially his use of recurring words and concepts. He discovers a ‘hochorganisierte Kompositionsweise’ which creates ‘ubergeordnete Assoziationen’, and these help the reader to appreciate the ‘geistige Durchdringung des Romanstoffes’ (p. 49). This produces an

Erziihlgeflecht , in dem in einer zum Meditieren einladenden Darbietungs- weise die tragenden und erziihlerisch omniprasent gehaltenen Begriffe wie lieht, jlimer, triuwe, ruht [ . . . ] immer neu dargeboten und umworben werden. (p. 64)

(P. 60).

Herzeloyde appears as the

Mittelpunkt eines sich auffachernden, souveran gehandhabten Themen- gewebes [ . . . I , das sich immer mehr auch im Blick auf Horer und Leser als Meditationsgeflecht erweisen wird. [ . . . ] So gedeihen im Unkreis von Herzeloyde Werte wie triuwe, schame, Abwesenheit von ualschheit, dazu das herze und vor allem der jdmer; all das sprachlich diskret durchwirkt von Hinweisen auf Gottes N&e und universelle Heilszuversicht. (pp. 1 lf.)

Wolfs article is one of the most important studies of Parriual to appear in recent years; it is full of fascinating insights and could form the basis for an entirely new approach to the poem.

Lewis calls her account ‘iconoclastic’, and it certainly is that. Written as a reaction to the many earlier one-sidedly positive assessments, it swings to the opposite extreme. Investigating Herzeloyde’s actions from a totally modern viewpoint throughout it comes up with an endless series of negatives.

In the Gahmuret section Lewis justifiably criticizes the way Herzeloyde throws her self-respect to the winds (p. 470), but surely she goes too far in seeing even in her marriage merely selfishness and lack of interest in her husband’s affairs (pp. 471f.). She even finds fault with Herzeloyde for fainting on two occasions to escape from a ‘widrige Situation’ (p. 472)’ succumbing to an ‘Ausflucht in eine Ohnmacht’ (p. 479); her lament in 109.19ff. is merely


‘eine Rede des tiefsten Selbstmitleids’ (p. 472), she is ‘uberaus egoistisch‘ (p. 473), and ‘eine fast unvorstellbar egoistische Mutter’ (p. 476). Here, Lewis’s modern viewpoint is at its crassest. One often wonders whether her words are a criticism of Herzeloyde or of medieval character portrayal in general. Wolfram’s abundant praise is explained away as stereotyped, just clichCs - a medieval author has to describe characters, especially female ones, in positive terms: see p. 484 and passim.

If we are to see Herzeloyde in this consistently negative light, it is difficult to take her seriously as a credible mother for Parzival, and to discount the virtues as clichts only creates further problems: how can they then lie dormant in her son and eventually help him to solve the problems of his life, as we are expressly told in 451.3ff? Her triuwe (a concept hardly treated by Lewis) clearly extends well beyond the realm of praise and rhetoric: it is one of the most important leitmotifs in the poem, and Parzival’s conduct is judged by reference to it.

Moving finally to those critics who offer a more balanced assessment of Herzeloyde, we are first of all confronted with the problem posed by her enigmatic changes of character.

In 1913 Morgan suggested that Wolfram may be purposely contrasting the two halves of her story:

Certainly the queen who claims Gahmuret’s love against his outspoken will, who forgets all maidenly modesty in the ardor of her affection, is not the woman who retired to the wilderness. In this connection it may be significant that Wolfram has no praise for her till after she is married to Gahmuret. (p. 178)

Schroder (in his 1952 article) goes as far as to claim that there is always a discrepancy in the characterisation of Wolfram’s main figures. We never have a real individual, but ‘eine agierende Romangestalt. Wechselt die Funktion, spielt die Figur also eine doppelte Rolle, so tritt das Unlebendige, Maskenhafte besonders hervor’ (pp. 41 lf . ) . Blamires argues that ‘the link between the various functions of Herzeloyde is provided more by the development and by the needs of the plot than by a unified characterization’ (p. 68). The early and later Herzeloyde are not in any way synthesised; there is ‘a complete cleavage between them, marked by Gahmuret’s death, and the severe emotional shock resulting from this’ (p. 101).

Kutz explains this cleavage in an interesting way. Herzeloyde, like other characters, moves on one or more of three levels: the non-courtly, the courtly and the religious. She consistently makes the mistake of trying to find meaning on only one level. She moves abruptly and completely, and the different realms remain isolated and unintegrated, ‘with conflicting demands which require the denial of one world as a precondition for the acceptance of the next’. Parzival by contrast only attains the Grail by integrating and synthesizing these worlds (p. 366). Kutz applies this view particularly to Herzeloyde’s attitude when she retires to Soltane. I cannot agree with her that Herzeloyde leads ‘the life of a religious hermit’, but she is right when she compares her with other members of the Grail family who also move wholly into the isolated sphere after unhappy


contact with the courtly world. Herzeloyde makes no attempt to bring with her any of her former courtly values, ‘but specifically denies their existence’. Kutz writes of ‘the complexities of Parzival’s attempt not only to reintegrate himself with his society, but to bridge the worlds which were for his parents abruptly divided’ (368).

For Gibbs there is no discrepancy. In the early stages Herzeloyde does exhibit a ‘ruthless determination to usurp the place of Belakane’, and she behaves with ‘immature indiscretion’, giving the impression of being ‘a young girl untouched by the seriousness of life’ (p. 7), and if she is a different woman in Soltane this is because she has developed so much. The change is brought about by experience; it produces the mature woman who is not only fit to bear the future Grail King, ‘but wise enough to let him ride away from her, knowing that she will never see him again’. Indeed, Gibbs argues, ‘of all Wolfram’s heroines Herzeloyde is the one who develops most’ (pp. 4f.). In her assessment of the mature woman, Gibbs agrees wholeheartedly with the positive view adopted earlier by Heise: some of her actions could be regarded as selfish, ‘but this is not how Wolfram himself sees her behaviour, and one must be guided by him in judging a character whom he prizes so highly’ (p. 21).

Yeandle provides us with a very detailed and well balanced study of Herzeloyde, although it is restricted to her role in Book Three. Her actions tend to provoke an unfavourable response, whereas Wolfram’s comments negate this (p. 6) and predetermine our reactions towards her (p. 8). Wolfram was to a large extent dependent on traditional material for the infancy story, and many of Herzeloyde’s negative actions are traditional ingredients (p. 26) and essential to her narrative function (p. 6). Any blame is frequently minimized through irony and humour, and her character is in fact ‘not a blatant discrepancy between positive and negative aspects, but a subtle fusion of the two’ (pp. 27f.).

Ultimately we see Herzeloyde in predominantly positive, sympathetic terms, in accordance with Wolfram’s main strategy for the work. The narratorial eulogies, as an assessment of her character, leave the most lasting impression on the mind of the audience.[. . . ] Nevertheless Wolfram allows us to retain certain reservations about her, just as he does about other members of the Grail family. [ . . . ] she is shown to be, like Parzival, a representative of the agelstern vume mentioned in the Prologue. (p. 28)

A number of critics suggest that a solution may lie in a reassessment of our understanding of the word tn’uwe.

Schumacheis basic view of the Soltane episode is in line with Heise and Gibbs (see especially pp. 175 and 224ff.) Her most interesting comments are however in the context of Wolfram’s use of the word triuwe:

Diese menschliche triuwe ;st[. . .]ein Analogon jener gottlichen triuwe, die das Urbild aller irdischen triuwe ist und den Menschen zur triuwe verpflichtet. Gott allein ist im Vollbesitz der triuwe[ . . .I, dem Menschen ist nur eine graduelle Teilhabe an der triuwe [ . . . ] moglich. Die


Tugendattribute, welche Wolfram seinen Helden oft sehr groaziigig verleiht, sind in diesem Sinne relativ[. . . I . (p. 121)

According to Blamires, Herzeloyde’s actions with regard to her son are at bottom selfish, but the irony lies in the fact tha, she genuinely believes herself to be acting in his best interests. The explanation for this is:

she looks upon Parzival as a source of psychological support. From her very first appearance in the poem, her part is determined by a craving for dependence[ . . . 1. The initiative which she had taken with Gahmuret at the tournament has at its root the need for security and emotional dependence. (p. 81)

Wolfram considers her actions according to her own viewpoint and continually stresses her triuwe. She imagines she can be most faithful to Gahmuret by attempting to spare Parzival a fate similar to his father’s and by bringing him up in a state of youthful innocence (p. 86). However, in view of the fact that his life leads into the courtly world and that of the Grail ‘we have to admit that this process of education is misleading‘ (p. 92).

Christoph has a very similar point of departure. Her failing is one which seems to plague the whole Grail family. Her actions reveal ‘a predisposition to reduce misfortune to a purely personal level and to despair’. Her essential triuwe is no less virtuous for this: she fails to resolve what Christoph calls ‘the despairing aspect of her triuwd (p. 206), and we witness ‘a one-sided emphasis of virtue rather than a deficiency of virtue’ (p. 2 12). He adds that ‘Herzeloyde embodies a conflict between essentially virtuous and flawed aspects of her major attribute’, and that Wolfram is allowing his audience ‘to appreciate Herzeloyde’s humanity without necessarily sanctioning her actions’ (p. 206).

Willson’s conclusions are similar and yet subtly different:

Her good intentions and the depth of her feeling are not to be questioned, but at the same time there may be some in the audience who would consider her love to be lacking in measure and therefore ‘disordered‘, because it is so excessive. It could well be argued, in fact, that she has too much triuwe. (p. 183)

He writes of her ‘well-intentioned, but misguided and perverse treatment of her son’ (p. 185), and of Wolfram placing ‘significant emphasis on the inordinah of her triuwd (p. 186). Our author’s praise is motivated by ‘the poet’s attitude towards his characters, which is a sympathetic one, and to the whole question of human affections or love’. Herzeloyde’s love may be without measure, but she has ‘den rehten valsch vermiten’ (319.8), and Wolfram is not disposed to condemn her for ‘faults and excesses which are committed without malicious or evil intent’. Like Parzival, she redeems herself; she suffers death as a result of this love without measure, and death for love overshadows and atones for shortcomings in life; ‘this lack of maZe was, paradoxically, the instrument of her redemption’ (p. 203).


ANTIKONIE

Three critics see Antikonie in an entirely positive light. Kolb clearly mis- interprets her role when he points to Wolfram’s ‘Preis der Antikonie fur ihre gegen das Drhgen Gawans bewahrte magetltche kiusch.4 (p. 245). The word kiusche is understood quite simply as ‘chastity’, and the statement ‘des willen si beide wlren bereit’ (407.9) is ignored. Rupp and Kratz are surely nearer the truth when they suggest that Wolfram enjoyed depicting the love scene, and that there is no question of any negative assessment of either Antikonie or Gawan: Wolfram tadelt nicht im geringsten die rasch aufkeimende Liebe. Im Gegenteil, er lobt sie [ . . . I . Im gegebenen Rahmen h a t Wolfram ein solches erotisches Spiel fur durchaus berechtigt’ (Rupp, p. 5); ‘Antikonie is a type of woman that Wolfram admires. When love is present, then a woman should not be coy’ (Kratz, p. 334). Neither of these writers however makes any attempt to explain the word kiurche.

A negative view is adopted by Morgan; commenting that the love-scene ‘does not appeal to our modern taste’, and ignoring kiusche and triuwe, she focusses our attention on Wolfram’s description of Antikonie’s seductive beauty: ‘he realizes that this alone can explain the whole episode’ (pp. 194f.).

Schnell and Poag refuse to take the narratorid comments seriously, dismissing them as pure irony. Schnell sees ‘Hintergriindiges’ in all the descriptions of Antikonie, and maintains that the passage 403.21ff. shows her ‘in einem zweideutigen Licht’ (pp. 250f.). Schnell does not mention her kiusch, but Poag does, and his article is an attempt to show that all that Wolfram says about it is to be interpreted as meaning the very opposite to what his words convey on the surface. This is an incredible interpretation, and, as I have remarked before, the reasoning is consummately difficult to follow (Duckworth, p. 302).

Middleton, commenting on Schnell and Poag, sums it up quite nicely:

neither article accounts satisfactorily either for the positive tone of the defence and departure scenes, or for this exception to Wolfram’s usual tendency to make his leading characters either exemplary or eventually redeemed. (p. 352)

Those critics who achieve a more balanced interpretation all seem to agree that Wolfram’s praise refers only to her later actions, and has little to do with the love scene. Blamires is clear on this. Although Wolfram ‘enjoys the story and feels a definite sympathy with Antikonie’ and ‘was no prude about sexual matters’, his comments ‘concentrate on her defence of Gawan’, and kiusche is anyway ‘not necessarily exclusively linked with the idea of sexual morality’

Kinzel walks a tightrope here. He writes that kiusche can be no more than the opposite of ualscheit (p. 360)’ and that it is the only facet of her character that could be remotely regarded as praiseworthy: ‘die redlichkeit ihrer gesinnung‘, along with ‘die festigkeit (tn’uwe), welche sie veranlaate, Gawan auch in der lullersten not nicht im stich zu lassen’ (p. 364).

If kiusche is accepted here only very reluctantly as a positive attribute, the

(pp. 393ff.).


same is true of Schumacher’s approach. We note a link with her assessment of Herzeloyde when we read that the ‘scheinbare Inkonsequenz’ in Wolfram’s use of this word for Antikonie can only be explained by reference to his gradualism in the use of terms for virtues (p. 121). The implication seems to be that we must take Herzeloyde’s triuwe very seriously, although gradualistic- ally, but Antikonie’s kiusche can safely be played down by the same argument, in spite of Wolfram’s repeated emphasis.

The account by Gibbs is an essay in brinkmanship. Even the least significant of Wolfram’s women ‘possesses some element by which she partakes of the ideal‘ (p. xviii), but in the Gawan-sphere ‘different values operate’ and Book Eight is ‘a light-hearted episode’ (p. 185). Wolfram’s use of kiusche is possibly unnecessarily enthusiastic ‘in view of the total lack in Antikonie of [ . . . ] womanly purity and restraint’, but Wolfram is perhaps only talking about her reputation (pp. 19Of.). In spite of what she and Gawan do, afterwards we see that Wolfram is clearly striving to place her in a better light, and he can at least ‘attempt to bring her into line with his ideal. Her loyalty to Gawan is a powerful redeeming factor‘ (pp. 187f.). Our dificulties arise ‘because Wolfram has done his utmost to reconcile his picture of her with the wider picture he gives of his ideal of womanhood‘ (p. 192).

CONCLUSIONS

In the course of the above investigations at least two things have become clear. Herzeloyde and Antikonie are both very human - their actions show this - and Wolfram is fond of praising his characters in spite of all the apparent odds!

To do this he selects one attribute (their most striking good quality), and in his eulogies he lays the emphasis on this: Herzeloyde’s tn’uwe and Antikonie’s kiusche. Here, however, we must be careful, and not conclude that perfection is implied. God’s lriuwe and kiusche are absolute, but these virtues as exhibited by the characters are only partial, and a dim reflection of the divine.

Wolfram thus does not make any attempt to depict Herzeloyde as an ideal mother. Instead, he chooses to emphasise the positive traits in her nature, especially triuwe, which has far-reaching ramifications for the poem as a whole and Parzival’s development in particular. This explains how it comes about that while most critics refer to her legacy of virtues some draw our attention to her son’s inherited problems.

Any discrepancy between the younger and the more mature Herzeloyde, and between her actions and the narratorial comment, is overcome if we assume her to be exhibiting a combination of possessiveness and emotional dependence (in relation to both Gahmuret and Parzival), a love which is at the same time excessive, selfish and sincere. She has a strong tendency to reduce misfortune to a purely personal level, and she is unable to integrate the various realms in which she moves, but she is in the end saved by the sincerity of her love: her heart-felt triuwe and her total lack of ualsch. The figure of Herzeloye forms the hub of a ‘Meditationsgeflecht’ extending through the entire poem, suggesting


an allegorical extension of reality, and reflecting (though only dimly) the purity of God and the Virgin Mary.

The plot demanded that Parzival’s start in life should be inauspicious. What more delightful and satisfactory way could there be of achieving this than by showing that this seeming evil is brought about by an excess of good?

The negative aspects of Antikonie’s character have frequently been singled out for criticism, but Wolfram prefers to bring out her most conspicuous good quality. This he calls kiuche. The word clearly does not refer to her physical chastity, as has often been assumed, but - as the text tells us clearly - to her complete lack of valsch:

des koufes hete si vil gephlegen und alles valsches sich bewegen. die kiuschen und die siiezen vroun Antikonien vor valscheit die vrien.

(404.25f. )

(427.6ff .)

Kratz is right when he contrasts Antikonie’s attitude with that of Sigune and Obie (p. 334). I too have already suggested elsewhere that Wolfram is making a clear distinction between Antikonie and Obie when he lets his evaluation of them hinge on the virtue of kiuche: we remember how Obie’s had turned into tom, or was contaminated with zorn, and thus she did not behave like a lady:

(365.16f.)

(365.20f.)

Antikonie’s kiuche is preserved throughout, and in Wolfram’s eyes this renders her worthy of the highest possible praise.

What he enjoys extolling through the word kiuche is her sincerity, her integrity in the face of what must have been a great temptation to deny having played any active part in the proceedings. (See Duckworth, pp. 174ff. and 229ff.) We must not forget what he proclaimed earlier, in the context of women in general:

swelhem wibe volget kiusche mite, der lobes kemphe wil ich sin. (1 15.2f.)

This virtue is, after all, one which is given considerable prominence in the poem as a whole: it is the opposite of the twivel and the valsch geselleclicher muot of the prologue, it is the quality in whose absence all human relationships (including that between man and God) must inevitably end in disaster.

des gap ir trGren solhez leit, daz ir kiusche wart gein zorne balt. si kom dicke Qz vrouwenlichen siten: sus vlaht ir kiusche sich in zorn.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

David Blamires, Charactnitation and Individuality in Wolfram's Parzival’, Cambridge 1966. Siegfried Christoph, ‘Gahmuret , Herzeloyde, and Parzival’s Serbee, Colloquia Cermanua,

17 (1984), 200-19.


David Duckworth, The InfZuence of Biblical Terminology and Thought on Wolfiam’s Parzival. With S@&l Rcfcrncc to the Epirtle ofst. James and the Concept ofzwlvel (Goppinger Arbeiten zur Germanistik, 273), Goppingen 1980.

Gustav Ehrismann, Geschichte der dcutschen Literatur bis zum Ausgang 02s Mittelalters, vol. 2.2.i, Munich 1927.

Marion E. Gibbs, W$lichez wibes reht. A Study ofthe Women Characters in the Works of Wolt;am von Eschenbach, Pittsburg 1972.

U. Heise, ‘Frauengestalten im Panival Wolframs von Eschenbach’, DU, 9 (1957), 37-62. Herbert Kolb, Yielfalt der kiusche. Eine bedeutungsgeschichtliche Studie zu Wolfram’s

K. Kinzel, ‘Beitrage zur Erk lhng und Beurteilung des ParziuaP, Zji, 30 (1886), 353-65. Henry Kratz, Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Parzival (Bibliotheca Germanica, 15),

Eleanor Kutz, ‘The Story of the Parents in Wolfram von Eschenbach‘s Parzivaf,

Karl Lachmann, ‘Uber den Inhalt des Parzival’, A j i , 5 (1879), 289-306. G. J. Lewis, ‘Die unheilige Heneloyde. Ein ikonoklastischer Versuch‘, JEGP, 74 (1975),

Friedrich Maurer, Lcid. Studien zur Bcdeutungs- und Problemgeschichte, besonders in den gro&n Epen d n stoujschen Zeit, BernlMunich 1951.

Margaret Middleton, ‘Attitudes to Marriage in the Works of Hartmann von Aue and Wolfram von Eschenbach‘ PhD thesis, Nottingham 1987.

Wolfgang Mohr, ‘Landgraf Kingrimursel. Zum VIII. Buch von Wolframs Parzivaf, Philologia Deutsch. Festschnjl f u r Walter Henzen, Bern 1965, pp. 21-38.

B. Q. Morgan, ‘Some Women in Parzival’, JEGP, 12 (1913), 175-98. J. F. Poag, ‘Wolfram von Eschenbach‘s Antikonie’, GR, 41 (1966), 83-88. Heinz Rupp, ‘Die Bedeutung der Gawan-Bucher im Parzival Wolframs von Eschen-

Rudiger Schnell, ‘Vogeljagd und Liebe im 8. Buch von Wolframs “Parzival’”, PBB,

W. J. Schroder, ‘Der dichterische Plan des Parzivalromanes’, PBB, 74 (1952), 160-92. W. J. Schrijder, Die Soltanc-Erriihlung in Wolfiams Parzival (Germanistische Bibliothek, 3)

Marlis Schumacher, Die Auffassung d n Ehe in dm Dichtungen Wolfram von Eschenbach,

Max Wehrli, ‘Wolfram von Eschenbach. Erziihlstil und Sinn seines “Parzival’”, D U ,

H. Bernard Willson, ‘Ordo amoni in Wolfram’s Parzivaf, JEGP, 67 (1968), 183-203. Alois Wolf, ‘Ein maere wil ich niuwen, dar saget von grdzen triuwen. Vom hofischen Roman

ChrCtiens zum Meditationsgeflecht der Dichtung Wolframs’, LJb, 26 (1985), 9-73. Wolfram von Eschenbach, Parrival, ed. Albert Leitzrnann, Tubingen 195311959. David N. Yeandle, ‘Herzeloyde. Problems of Characterization in Book I11 of Wolfram’s

uParzivaln’, Vnbum et Signum. Festschnjl F. Ohly, Munich 1975, pp. 233-46.

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HERZELOYDE AND ANTIKONIE. SOME ASPECTS COMPARED

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