Parzival may be the most complete rendition of the Perceval legend by a single author. Although it might be hard to attribute it to only Wolfram von Eschenbach, the 13th century German warrior-poet. I’ll get to that in a moment. Much of his version has no known precedent — there exists no other surviving manuscript by any other author in any other language that tells the early parts of this story — the story of Gahmuret, Parzival’s father. Wolfram may be the inventor of this.
We get a unique, “exotic” saga of Gahmuret’s adventures out east and eventual marriage to the Moorish Queen of Zazamanc. He wins much fame in jousts against besieging forces from Scotland and Normandy and Champagne and Spain. Gahmuret fathers his first son with this queen. This son will later be a significant figure in Parzival’s quest for the grail. Gahmuret goes on to later marry the queen of Wales, with whom he fathers Parzival. As far as I know, Wolfram invented this entire sequence and circle of characters.
There’s a scene early in book 2 of Parzival that could be called a medieval form of “fan service”. It’s sort of a nod to the die-hard fans of Arthurian lore, a scene that would only have been appreciated by those medieval Arthurian nerds in Wolfram’s audience. Gahmuret competes in a tournament (vesper joust) involving the fathers of many of the knights of Arthurian fame, as well as characters who would go on to become significant figures in those tales — Morholt of Ireland, killed later by Tristan; Tristan’s father Riwalin, King of Lohneis; Utherpendragon father of Arthur; Lot, father of Gawain; and Lac, father of Erec.
Chronologically, the events of Gahmuret’s time precede the era of the most famous Arthurian tales. Never before had so many significant figures of these myths appeared in a place that wasn’t Arthur’s court, nor was there a reason to bring them together until this tournament.
Once the story gets to Parzival’s life the events start to resemble those first told by the main source for this adaptation: Chrétien de Troyes. Wolfram follows Chrétien’s telling pretty closely for a long time, but he throws in his own products of the imagination and original side quests here and there. But he also throws in a surprise that still has scholars puzzled.
Wolfram claims to be illiterate, and it is thought that the way some names appear here support this statement — they seem phonetic instead of based on written text. He mentions this a few times, and if it’s true then it’s not known how he recorded the story. Even more amazingly, he would have to also have been able to understand and speak French without reading it, and to have heard the French versions of Parzival, before doing his own rendition in German.
But even more puzzling to scholars, Wolfram mentions a man named Kyot as the source of his story— after Parzival and Gawain have been sent off on their separate quests from Arthur’s court. At this point his story is still consistent with Chrétien. When Gawain comes to Kingrimusel’s castle to defend his honor he meets the sister of the king, and soon there develops the infamous scene of self defense with a chess board and its pieces. Wolfram makes countless references to the Nibelungenlied, in case we were to forget the nationality of the storyteller.
Kyot is mentioned as having read the tale of Parzival in a heathen tongue — Arabic, probably — and having translated it into French, from which Wolfram turned it into German. No historical record of a Kyot or his manuscript exists. Scholars are unsure if this man was made up by Wolfram or was a real person. Kyot learned the heathen tongue without the aid of black magic, Wolfram tells us.
Flegetanis is said to be a heathen scholar descended from Solomon, who originally wrote this tale of the grail. He had read it in the constellations, one of the hidden mysteries of the skies. “A host of angels left it on the earth and then flew away up over the stars.” He says the grail was to be serviced by noble men throughout the generations. The learned Kyot set out to find writings in Latin about this tale, to see if this were true. He came upon the tale in Anjou, and eventually translated it into French. For all we know, this legend is part of the lore, not a historical fact.
Medieval audiences didn’t seek out originality or newly crafted stories. Tales that were said to have come from a foreign source, or a discovered manuscript, or passed from generations of storytellers were deemed more exciting and palatable. The appearance of being inherited this way lended them an air of authenticity. This is reflected in the way these myths and romances and epics were composed — often the borrowing and reworking of motifs and themes and scenes and events and figures that had become common folk property.
Almost every named author of Arthurian legends I know of credited others for their work, even if they didn’t know the names of those others, and even if it might not be true that they were merely translating foreign sources. Geoffrey of Monmouth, when he wasn’t pulling straight from known sources like Nennius and Bede and Gildas, claimed to have been translating a British work into Latin; Chrétien de Troyes claimed, for each of his romances, to have found a book or have been told the story by someone else; Ulrich von Zatzikhoven claimed to be translating an Anglo-Norman poem found in the possession of the hostage Hugh de Morville; and here Wolfram is doing something similar. In all of these cases, the supposed original source has been lost, or never existed. Not only does Wolfram give us Kyot as his supposed source, but he goes one step further and makes Kyot’s work a translation and compilation of other works, originally written by Flegetanis, descendent of Solomon. There could be truth to some of these authors’ claims, but no records exist to prove it. Anyway, that’s enough of a diversion.
The Fisher King’s castle is Munsalvaesche. I don’t remember its name from Chrétien’s tale and the others, but its traits and mysteries here are largely the same. Parzival is given a sword with which he later wins fame. He does not inquire about Anfortas’s affliction or the grail or the bleeding lance, because of what he was taught as a young knight: “Stop asking so many stupid questions.”His lack of expressed curiosity dooms him to continued grief. This also makes Parzival the subject of people’s displeasure and annoyance, and he is looked down upon for this sin. We later learn that in the service of the grail Anfortas was pierced through the testicles by a poisoned spear of a heathen, and this is the source of his lifelong suffering. Having been shown the grail in person he could no longer die, and was thus doomed to live in anguish. Other familiar scenes return in Wolfram’s telling, like the Bed of Wonders, and many of the battles he fights are familiar.
Wolfram, like Gottfried von Strassburg, who was apparently not a fan of the former, had a unique voice in medieval literature. He makes his poem personal and often goes into an amusing aside about his failures with women and how down on his luck he’s been. He knows how to keep the audience’s attention though, and makes sure to draw all ears back to the story before he goes too far astray. His straying makes for an authentic medieval narrative experience, so I welcome it. With Parzival, all of Chrétien’s Arthurian romances had finally been adapted for German audiences. The German rendition of Cliges, however, has been lost to time.
Wolfram’s modifications to Chrétien’s details are numerous. Kei, the seneschal of Arthur, is given more depth and nuance in Wolfram’s version of this epic. He’s portrayed as an honorable man who is the first defense against false knights and base men for the king. True to his usual portrayal, he is still rude and mean toward those who he believes deserve it. We see he is also cruel toward those who don’t.
Like in Chrétien, Sir Gawan is tasked with finding the grail for the king who challenged him to battle for supposedly murdering his father. This king was earlier tasked with finding the grail after being defeated in a joust by Parzival. Parzival, meanwhile has been questing for years. He has grown to hate God in his sorrow and aimless, ongoing search for the Grail. The grail has become this unholy, holy thing that brings doom to all whose paths it crosses.
Parzival comes across his uncle Trevrizent who tells him about the Grail, and we learn a new variation of its mythos that we’ve never heard in any other version of the story: the Templar knights in service of the grail ride out for adventure. They are sustained by a stone which fell from the heavens. By the power of this stone the phoenix burns to ashes and then returns to life. Merely seeing the stone is enough to keep one young, or to return the old to youth, to keep one from harm for a long period of time, to keep one in health. The stone is called the Grail.
On Good Friday a dove flies down from Heaven and places a wafer on the grail from which all foods of the earth can be derived. Those who are to devote themselves in service to the stone are selected by the stone itself, which bears inscriptions in its side listing the names and lineages of those who will serve it. The angels who did not choose sides in the fight between Lucifer and the Trinity were compelled to descend to earth and care for this stone. The significance of the bleeding spear is that it is used to remove poison from Anfortas’s wound. It is laid beside it and draws out the ice — the ice being an elemental curse of the blood.
When Saturn reaches its zenith Anfortas’s suffering becomes its most severe. At this point the spear has to be inserted into his wound to pull out the freezing poison, hence its bleeding tip when Parzival sees it. Parzival learns that many in the service of the grail are his own family and lineage. His great grandfather was the first chosen to serve it. Anfortas is also his uncle, brother of Trevrizent. We soon learn Parzival’s whole family has some mystic, bloodline significance to the Grail, and the relations and wild knots begin unwinding into a coherent but surprising pattern. Parzival one day encounters his half brother Feirefiz in the woods, who becomes the only man to nearly beat him in battle. The relationship they develop seems to be the peak of Parzival’s bloodline continuity, the unity he needs to finally fulfill what the Grail requires…
This behemoth of a story is vast. It makes Percival’s already massive and mysterious adventure into a more expansive and more mysterious epic. It goes in strange directions sometimes, it introduces plot-lines that don’t always resolve, characters that don’t return, but that inject new layers to an already dense story. It is the sort of thing that could be reread immediately upon finishing, and I suspect new things would be discovered and noticed with each new reading. The web of character relations is worthy of study, and so are the tale’s encyclopedic allusions to other myths and legends. There’s so much here it takes a while to process. Given the time and attention it deserves, the book’s incredible qualities multiply, and seem all the more substantial. I think Parzival may be the best German contribution to the Arthurian literature, and stands as a peer of the other middle high German legends.