Logo DBNL
Studia Neerlandica. Jaargang 1971 (1971)

Studia Neerlandica. Jaargang 1971

(1971)– [tijdschrift] Studia Neerlandica–rechtenstatus Auteursrechtelijk beschermd

Vorige Volgende

D.A. Wells
The Middle Dutch Moriaen, Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival, and Medieval Tradition

The problems posed by questions of borrowing between literary works in the Middle Ages are common to students of all medieval European languages. As a generalization one can say that, with the increasing awareness of the formulaic element in the composition of medieval literature, both at the level of themes or topoi, and in matters of detailed verbal usage, scholars have become increasingly sceptical of attempts to relate works on the basis of the similarity of isolated phenomena alone. We are more conscious than formerly of the complexity of the relationship between tradition and originality and of the manner in which a medieval author ‘alluded to or quoted an existing work with which he wished his agreement to be seen, or to which he wished to offer some kind of homage, or (more simply) which he found it expedient to adapt or imitate. From the moment he began to write or draw he was, conversely, at pains to avoid what might seem to be a quotation or an allusion: what would seem to be a cliché or a current mannerism.’1 To this must be added the realisation of the rôle of polygenesis, the process by which an idea may recur, not because of the direct influence of one work on another, but because the universality of human nature, and of literary convenience, evokes the idea spontaneously in more than one work in the same or in different literary traditions. Even when borrowing between two works seems established, it is often difficult to know, without adequate external evidence of authorship and dating, which work was the earlier. The caution with which many modern critics approach such problems of influence, inhibited by their awareness of the common stock of formulaic expression used by poets in the particular language2, is a far cry from the attitudes of nineteenth-century scholars who, in annotating their texts, listed all the conceivable parallels to their material, often guided, apparently more by the subjective promptings of word-association than by objective similarities in the works before them.

Even today, in spite of greater general caution, one frequently finds in-

stances where the desire to establish the dating or priority of a particular work, or to support a popular critical commonplace about the relationship of two great poets, leads to the postulation of connections between two or more works based on the most tenuous grounds. Thus S. Hofer attempts to show that fleeting references to the generosity of Alexander in Chrétien's Erec indicate knowledge of a particular Alexander romance, and that the phrases and topoi shared by the Erec prologue with the prologue to the lais of Marie de France indicate the direct influence of the latter.3 D. Alonso has criticized an equally vague argument of E.R. Curtius on the dating of the Poema del Cid.4 Apparent borrowing of the same kind between different works forms much of the dubious evidence for the relative chronology of Middle High German poetry in the twelfth century, while the exaggeration of similar arguments used to characterize the literary feud between Wolfram von Eschenbach and Gottfried von Strassburg has been fully demonstrated by P.F. Ganz.5 In the field of Old English matters are perhaps simplified by the fact that the recurrence of an isolated half-line of alliterative verse may be dismissed as formulaic, whereas the repetition of a full line can be a good indicator of borrowing. Thus a connection between Exodus 58 and Beowulf 1410 enge ānpaôas/uncūô gelād is generally accepted, but the influence of Virgil, Aen. xi, 524ff. on the same line is uncertain to say the least.6 The relationship between different works may also be more readily understandable if, as part of a larger sequence or in individual episodes, they both relate to a literary tradition which has reached a canonical form, such as certain biblical epics or Arthurian romances.

This qualification does not, however, apply to the Arthurian material which forms the subject of the present study. It is obvious that the relationship of Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival and the Middle Dutch Moriaen of the Hague manuscript is in no way comparable to that of the French Prose Lancelot of the Vulgate cycle and the Dutch verse translation in the same manuscript. The only substantial motif in common is that of the close kinsman of Parzival-Perchevael (Gahmuret-Acglavael) who, in the course of adventures in an Oriental country, indulges in a love-affair with a black Moorish princess; the son born of this union (Feirefiz-Moriaen) grows up and travels to Arthur's realm where, after an undecided battle with an Arthurian champion (Parzival-Lancelot) he is lovingly received by his kinsmen. In a separate article I have outlined the problem of the affinity between the two works, and attempted to revise some of the traditional views of the problem by placing it in clearer perspective.7 The aim of the

present study is to corroborate the opinions put forward there by a detailed consideration of the arguments recently advanced by Mrs H. Paardekooper- van Buuren, who claims that a direct connection between Parzival and the Moriaen not only extends to the figures of Moriaen and Feirefiz as earlier critics had suggested, but even to numerous other details in the two epics as a whole.8 Although I believe that Mrs Paardekooper's arguments are, for her own thesis, almost entirely without foundation, I hope to be able to appraise her evidence in a constructive fashion and to revise the conclusions she draws. Many of the points on which she dwells are not without interest in their own right, and can be related to problems which illuminate the content and structure of the Moriaen.

Mrs Paardekooper follows her summary of the content of the Moriaen with a survey of previous work on its sources (346-7).9 Here a further parallel is suggested in lines 41166-70 and 41182 of the Dutch Lancelot. The parallel seems much less conclusive than Mrs Paardekooper implies, but, if genuine, it confirms that the author of the Moriaen was familiar with this section of the Lancelot dealing with the adventures of Acglavael, a point which can be established on other grounds.10 More important in view of what follows, however, is Mrs Paardekooper's failure to define the nature of medieval borrowing and to discuss related questions of formulaic usage and the terms of reference of the scholar who attempts to assess the relationship of two medieval works. The introduction to section 2 (348) (Woordelijke) Overeenkomsten in Situaties is itself far from clear, and, apart from a few formulaic phrases, there are no ‘verbal’ parallels in this section. Even at this stage in Mrs Paardekooper's argument one is reminded only too readily of the dubious chronological arguments referred to earlier.

Mrs Paardekooper points (2.1) to the statement at the beginning of the Moriaen that Arthur holds court in Bertangen (31)11, which she claims is remarkable in its own right, refers to Brittany, and is related to Wolfram's Bertâne. The argument rests on an obiter dictum of M. Wilmotte12 that Wolfram consciously transfers the Welsh setting of Chrétien's Perceval to Brittany. This is an over-simplification not present in Wilmotte's fuller treatment of the problem12a, overlooked by Mrs Paardekooper, and is in any case made untenable by more recent work. The enormous complexity of Wolfram's geography and the inextricable mingling of real and fictional places13 make a straightforward equation of Bertâne with Brittany (as opposed to Britain) impossible; while its capital city is Nantes, this is no more to be seen as the real city of the same name than is Arthur's court of Karidoel - also in Bertâne

- to be equated with the real Carlisle.14 Bertâne also appears to include Ither's province of Kukûmerlant (145, 12-29), which hardly supports the association of Wolfram's topography with real places. In common with Arthurian romance as a whole, Wolfram ignores the English Channel and uses Bertâne as a loose term for the ‘land of the Britons’, the amorphous region which reflects the historical Celtic dominance of Wales, Cornwall, Brittany, and the Scottish borderlands, and at the same time moulds these territories into an idealized fictional entity. Wolfram implies that Arthur has complete political control over Bertâne, and within the land his court is peripatetic15 In the same way Löver and Lôgroys fall into the sphere of fictional geography and are hardly to be associated with historical England (Lloegr)16; in Löver Arthur's power seems established, for his court meets there peacefully at Dîanazdrûn and at Bents bî der Koreâ, while Lôgroys, Orgeluse's domain on the borders of Terre Marveile17, makes the impression of a territory on the fringe of Arthur's kingdom, a prey to malign influences and defended with difficulty.18 As regards the seat of Arthur's power, Wolfram's geographical elaboration shows no decisive shift of emphasis towards any historical territory on the European continent; even the term Wâleis, in spite of its associations with Valois, points equally to the Wales of earlier Arthurian tradition.19

These considerations serve to demonstrate that in the Moriaen there is nothing unusual in Arthur holding his court in Bertangen: the meaning is simply ‘Britain’ in the broad Arthurian sense, and there is once more nothing to suggest the specific connotation of ‘Brittany’. If the conventional opening states that the court was held ‘in Britain’ rather than at a specific town, this is consonant with the style of the Moriaen as a whole where, in complete contrast to Wolfram, names, and particularly geographical names, play a very minor rôle. Even Moriaen himself is not distinguished by his name alone from other inhabitants of his homeland, Moriane20, and, apart from the prologue (3, 17, 26) his name does not appear until line 2345. His mother, the hermits, the king of Ireland, the knight wounded by Perchevael, the damsel rescued by Walewein and all his antagonists, Lancelot's victim, and Arthur's queen are all unnamed, as Mrs Paardekooper herself admits (5.4, 366). Within Arthur's realm no cities or castles are named except Karmeloet (4689), and here the poet anticipates the opening of the Queste with the Whitsuntide investiture of Galaät which forms the next work in the manuscript sequence. The name Bertangen appears elsewhere (2871, 2886) to denote Arthur's land

and people, but the imprecise definition of his territory which is usual in the Moriaen (2841 Tes comincs Arturs lande; 2991 Arturs lant) confirms the impression that Bertangen, when used, is merely the vague realm of most Arthurian fiction. The only other geographical references in the Moriaen point firmly to the island of Britain rather than the continent: Perchevael is named as den Walois (264) and the same epithet characterizes his speech, appearance and manner (210-2). There can be no question here of Wolfram's secondary association of Wâleis with continental Valois and it is clear that Perchevael is simply the Welshman of Chrétien and the French Vulgate cycle.21

The next group of parallels cited by Mrs Paardekooper (2.2) are supposed to prove connection between Walewein's treatment of the wounded knight at the opening of the Moriaen and Arnive's nursing of Gawan after his supreme ordeal in the Perilous Bed (Parzival 578, 4ff.). However, the only real affinity between the two passages lies in the commonplace situation of an injured knight being stripped of his armour, laid horizontal, kept warm, and receiving medical treatment which includes the use of wine and herbs. There is no more evidence that one work borrows this formulaic situation from the other than that the formulaic account of the knight's plight Hine mochte sitten no gaen,/Noch op sine vote gestaen (69-70) shows any direct connection with that of Anfortas, Parzival 251, 17-18.22 In points of detail there are as many differences as similarities. In the Moriaen, the knight is given sops in wine to eat (81); in Parzival, the warm wine is used with dittany externally as a salve for Gawan's wounds.23 As Mrs Paardekooper admits, the herb also has a different function in each work. In the Moriaen the herb is eaten, and it tends to rouse the patient's strength and appetite (112ff.). In Parzival, Arnive's herb has more of a magical quality; reminiscent of the herb of Karel ende Elegast (766-830), it is placed in the mouth for a particular purpose, in this case to make Gawan sleep, and is removed once the situation induced is no longer required (580, 27-581, 22). The remaining similarity between the episodes, the statements that neither Arnive (578, 25ff.) nor Walewein (88) could cure a mortally wounded man, is surely an obvious comment on the skill of any physician whatever, and as such a transparent example of polygenesis.

From the point of view of literary tradition the significant motif in this episode of the Moriaen is Walewein's healing skill. Apart from lines 84-90, this power is emphasized again in Moriaen 391-9, where Walewein is said to heal men even against their will. After his subsequent capture and rescue

by Moriaen, Walewein cures himself through his own knowledge of medicine and herbs (2596-2617; 2795-2800). Later he tends and heals Lancelot after the latter's encounter with the monster (4125-34; 4162). This attribute of Gawain is fairly widespread in Arthurian tradition. Elsewhere in Dutch literature, Walewein assists the surgeon who treats Lanceloet in Lanceloet en het Hert met de Witte Voet24, and the hero of the Walewein tends his own wounds after a hostile encounter25, while a certain affinity with the Moriaen is shown by the Wrake van Ragisel inasmuch as this work also opens with the arrival of a stranger and the demonstration of Walewein's medical skill; here, however, following the French source26, a weapon is extracted from the dead man's wound.27 The poet of the Moriaen could have found the motif in any of these works, of which two are found in the same manuscript, while the Walewein is an established source. There is an analogue to the Vengeance Raguidel in the First Continuation of Chrétien, where the healing power is associated with Gauvain's brother.28

Even though Wolfram's inspiration for Arnive's treatment of Gawan could derive from the powers conventionally attributed to Gawan himself, this is an unproveable hypothesis and in no sense indicative of a ‘source’. That Wolfram elsewhere (506, 4-19) shows he is fully aware of Gawan's skill - 506, 14 er was zer wunden niht ein tôr is plainly an understatement - and derives his information for this passage direct from Chrétien29, in any case renders pointless the postulation of a direct connection with the Moriaen, the author of which could have had his knowledge, at least in part, from the corresponding passage earlier in the Dutch Lancelot.30 Perhaps Wolfram's familiarity with the motif is reflected in his metaphorical description of the consummation of Gawan's love for Orgeluse through the image of healing herbs (643, 21-644, 6).31

Mrs Paardekooper argues (2.3) that Arthur's lament for the absent Perchevael (Moriaen 221-48) is related to the queen's grief in Parzival 646, 8-17. It is impossible to draw such a conclusion without some reference to the whole context of the passage in Wolfram, and its relationship to its source. Chrétien's work breaks off with the arrival of the messenger at the court. Whether Wolfram follows a manuscript with the First Continuation or merely continues to develop the themes already outlined by Chrétien32, the Moriaen shows a closer affinity to the French material than to Parzival. As in the Moriaen but not in Wolfram, the grief in Chrétien and the Continuation is attributed in the first place to the king himself and takes the form of a violent outward manifestation.33 It is true that in the French works

the occasion of grief is the absence of Gauvain alone34, but in Parzival also Gawan, whose squire brings the message, is the chief cause of concern to Ginover (645, 2-646, 23); the additional mention of Parzival and of the departure from the Plimizoel is an obvious instance of Wolfram's reluctance to lose sight of his main theme and his desire to emphasize the relationship of the two heroes.35 It is absurd to seek in the Moriaen the inspiration for a detail which can be so directly related to the most profound and personal theme of Wolfram's work. The converse influence is equally improbable since Arthur's grief in the Moriaen forms an obvious, if somewhat forced, device to motivate the search for Perchevael, believed to be on a fool's errand. This points unmistakeably to the French Queste tradition and its Dutch versification, where the belief is well-grounded.36 A decisive detail indicative of the French traditions of Chrétien and of the Queste, as distinct from Wolfram, is the statement that Perchevael seeks vainly for both lance and grail (232-3), a theme reiterated in the course of the work, and to which we shall return.37 The linchpin of any attempt to connect the Moriaen with Parzival is, of course, the association of Moriaen with Feirefiz. Mrs Paardekooper (2.4) seeks to link the meeting of Walewein and Lancelot with Moriaen, and Lancelot's subsequent battle with the stranger, with the encounter between Parzival and Feirefiz. The tenuous foundation of the whole argument is illustrated by the fact that, whereas F. Panzer believed that Book 1 of Parzival supplied some details of the Moriaen38, he produced no firm evidence in support of this contention and in any case connected the combat between Feirefiz and Parzival with a totally different work, the French Ipomedon of Hue de Rotelande; in spite of Mrs Paardekooper's protestations (347 n. 5) he seemed to regard the Ipomedon as a more conclusive parallel altogether.39 The parallels noted by Mrs Paardekooper in this section are merely stock motifs of chivalrous combat.40 It is not even necessary to accept Panzer's conclusion that the Ipomedon constitutes the source of the battle in Wolfram; the mere fact that he shows the same and even closer affinities between Wolfram and the combat in the earlier French work, not to mention that in the Ipomedon the encounter is one between half-brothers who have not previously met, and forms the climax to the work, makes it impossible to believe that the Moriaen has influenced Parzival here. The stock occurrence of undecided battles between heroes in other Arthurian works41 also shows that this motif alone is inadequate evidence of a lost French source common to Wolfram and the Moriaen. There remains Panzer's own argument that the Dutch poet was influenced by Parzival along with his French sources, but as

regards the battle between Lancelot and Moriaen the most that can be said with confidence is the obvious fact that he must have drawn on the whole tradition of the classical Arthurian combat. That the Ipomedon does not supply the only analogue to Parzival's battle with Feirefiz has also been made explicit by E.H. Zeydel's reference in this context to the Kreuzfahrt Ludwigs des Frommen.42 Mrs Paardekooper's final parallel to Parzival 736, 25ff., the forest by the seashore, occurs twice in the Moriaen where it seems to be characteristic of Ireland (2978-80, 3121-6), but it is not specifically mentioned in the context of Moriaen's meeting with his father. However, in this as in other details, the Ipomedon supplies an altogether closer analogy.43

Mrs Paardekooper points (2.5) to the apparent resemblance between Feirefiz's acceptance of the Christian faith (Parzival 818, 3) and Moriaen's submissive acceptance of his companions' advice (934ff.). However, the verbal parallel is of the most tenuous and a glance at the content of the two works shows that even the vague common element, an exotic stranger accepting superior Western values, is either lacking in substance or else entirely conditioned by the respective context. The chivalric culture of Feirefiz is in no way inferior to that of the Arthurian world, and his conversion is on his part entirely motivated by his desire for Repanse de Schoye; his soul's salvation is simply an additional benefit (813, 29ff., 818, 1ff.). In 934ff. Moriaen does not, as Mrs Paardekooper suggests, learn the rules of chivalry from Walewein and Lancelot. He merely agrees to forgo his impetuous oath, inspired by shame at his illegitimacy and lost inheritance, to fight any knight who refused to disclose whether he had knowledge of Moriaen's father (434ff., 528ff., 714ff.). Although Lancelot is riled by his brusque challenge, there is nothing to suggest that Moriaen is not as fully accomplished in chivalrous behaviour as his youth permits; he acknowledges the laws of knighthood and, before learning he is in their presence, avows that Walewein and Lancelot are the finest of knights (550ff., 607ff., 768ff.). Although he bears the colour of hell and terrifies those he meets, he is, in contrast to Feirefiz, already baptized, and constantly appeals to God rather than to the heathen gods of Feirefiz.44 In dress and outward appearance he has none of the exotic paraphernalia of Feirefiz (cf. Parzival 735, 9ff.) and, apart from his colour, great stature, and Moorish homeland, there is nothing to distinguish him from the traditional champions of Arthurian chivalry.

Mrs Paardekooper shows a mistaken emphasis in her discussion (2.6) of Jonckbloet's juxtaposition of Wolfram's des maeres hêrren (338, 7) and Walewein as der aventuren vader (Moriaen 1684). These are conventional formulaic

epithets upon which no argument for direct dependence can be founded with any certainty, but even their similarity is negated, less by Mrs Paardekooper's point that two different heroes are denoted than by the quite different application of the formula in each work. Wolfram employs a highly personal variant of the convention, referring to Parzival as the chosen hero of this particular romance; whereas in the Dutch formula aventure is used in a much broader sense to indicate the status of a leading exponent of Arthurian chivalry, i.e. the ‘father of chivalrous adventure’ generally. The occurrence of the same formula in the Wrake van Ragisel, which Mrs Paardekooper notes, confirms this interpretation, but of equal significance is the fact that it is used in the Walewein which supplies an established source for this episode of the Moriaen.45

This section of Mrs Paardekooper's argument attempts to relate Walewein's adventure in the Moriaen to Book viii of Parzival. For the few parallels of any substance the claim that the Walewein, the primary source, shows no similarity, is demonstrably untrue. Wolfram for his part also diverges from Chrétien less than Mrs Paardekooper claims on the points to which she refers, while her apparent association of Kyot with the author of the Moriaen is best passed over in silence. She also ignores the fact that the whole of the adventure found in Chrétien an Wolfram is rendered in the appropriate section of the Dutch Perchevael included earlier in the Hague manuscript and hence, even if the Guinganbresil episode did directly influence Walewein's adventure in the Moriaen, this Dutch version rather than Chrétien or Wolfram would have been far more likely to supply the source.46

While reminiscent of Wolfram's more expansive treatment as compared with Chrétien, the address to the audience with the foreboding of the trouble in store for the hero (Parzival 399, 1ff., cf. Moriaen 1688ff.) is once again a stock device characteristic of the opening of a new section of a romance. With her reference to ‘de lezer’ (351) Mrs Paardekooper seems unaware of the implications of such formulaic usage for the oral delivery of the works. Once again Wolfram transforms a convention in his personal manner, to which the Moriaen has nothing comparable. In Parzival 399, 8-10 a parallel is drawn between Gawan's distress and Parzival's scales (cf. 434, 7-19): each hero's fortunes must sink for his fame to rise. Wolfram's address to mîn wîser und mîn tumber (399, 4), omitted in Mrs Paardekooper's quotation, alludes to earlier comments on his audience47, while for literary affinities everything in this passage points to Veldeke and his French source (399, 11ff.). Nor is there any likelihood that the Moriaen follows Wolfram, since, if a

direct source is sought, the Walewein supplies an adequate parallel at the same stage in the story (8792-4).

It is difficult to understand the importance which Mrs Paardekooper attaches to the fact that five hundred men are mentioned at both Schanpfanzun (399, 27ff.) and the castle in Moriaen 1898ff. Medieval authors are notoriously generous with such superlatives, while it is sheer coincidence that no precise number is given in the Walewein and Chrétien. Since the Moriaen sets the scene in a castle rather than the pauwelioen of the Walewein, an appropriate defence is required. Five hundred appears elsewhere in Parzival as a stock superlative: Bernout de Riviers brings five hundred men in support of Gramoflanz (682, 30); Gringuljete is more valuable than five hundred ordinary (hypothetical) horses (546, 18); on the Perilous Bed, Gawan faces five hundred slings and crossbows (568, 21; 569, 5). In the last detail, Wolfram follows Chrétien (7830), whereas Chrétien alone speaks of five hundred defenders of the Castle of Ladies (7521; 7566).

In contrast to Chrétien, where Gauvain retains the use of Escalibor (5902), Wolfram makes Gawan weaponless in his defence with the chess set.48 This hardly proves an affinity with the Moriaen as Mrs Paardekooper suggests, because in this work Walewein is captured, and the author constantly emphasizes that he is without armour in order to exonerate him (Moriaen 1703ff., 1782ff., 1885ff., 1953ff.): here and in the later ambush, it is implied that this is one of the few ways in which Walewein can be overcome, a theme found also in the episode of Brun de Branlant and Bran de Lis in the First Continuation of Chrétien.49 In any case there is again an adequate parallel in the Walewein 8957-9, and the fact that these lines in the established source have more in common with Parzival 407, 25 than with Moriaen 1703-4 quoted by Mrs Paardekooper merely underlines the questionable foundation of her argument. To emphasize the detail of the sword alone is over-literal: it can be inferred from Walewein 8790-4 that at this point the hero disarms himself before eating according to normal practice. The absence of a sword is also mentioned in the corresponding episode in Gerbert de Montreuil's Perceval (13329) discussed by A.M.E. Draak50 but passed over in silence by Mrs Paardekooper.

While the fear of abuse of hospitality is not expressed by the host in the Walewein, the theme itself is obviously implicit in any situation of this kind. Wolfram plainly follows the strong emphasis given by Chrétien to the motif (6064-80, 6092-6107), which is developed in the Perchevael section of the Dutch Lancelot (38486ff.) in a manner arguably closer to Wolfram than to Chrétien.51

This work, as we have seen, Mrs Paardekooper ignores. The lord's consultation with his council in the Moriaen (1839ff., 1985ff.) follows two similar references in the Walewein (9024ff., 9055ff.); in both these works, the sole aim is to decide how best to take revenge on Walewein, whereas by the time the council meets in Parzival, Vergulaht is purely concerned to extricate himself from the embarrassing diplomatic situation (424, 7ff.). Though Chrétien's dénouement of the episode is shorter, the motif of counsel is prominent with the sage vavassor who provides the solution (6088ff.). The truce mentioned in Moriaen 1881ff. can derive from Walewein 9024ff. and the introduction of the same motif in Parzival (412, 25) is made necessary by the greater length of the subsequent deliberations compared with Chrétien. Mrs Paardekooper's final parallel, Moriaen 1972 and Parzival 417, 9, is merely a case of each author stating the obvious: Chrétien makes a similar observation, but reserves it for after Gauvain's delivery from his predicament (6202-3).

In spite of the lack of substance in Mrs Paardekooper's detailed parallels in this section, it is obvious that the Guinganbresil-Antikonie adventure of Chrétien, Parzival, and the Dutch Perchevael, which particularly in its concluding features often seems closer to Wolfram than to extant versions of Chrétien52, shares certain features with the story found in the other works. In every case, Gawain arrives by chance at a place where he is hospitably entertained until the host and his followers are led to believe that the guest has murdered a close relative of the host.52a Gawain is then caught partly or wholly unarmed. A woman is also involved at some point in the action. The basic outline allows of numerous variants. However, it is equally clear that our stories fall into two distinct groups; Chrétien, Wolfram and the Perchevael are characterized by the attribution to Gawain of the previous slaying of the host's father, by the defence with the chess set, and by the central role of the host's amorous sister, whereas in the other group of adventures, Gerbert, Walewein, and Moriaen, Gawain indisputably kills the host's son whose body bleeds anew in the presence of the slayer, and the chess motif is absent. In this group the rôle of the woman differs in each work. In the Walewein she is amorous but unrelated to the host, being Ysabele, the hero's companion throughout the work. In the Moriaen she is neither amorous nor related to the host, but a stranger rescued by Walewein from assault by the host's son, following an earlier episode in the Walewein (3676ff.), and after her rescue she vanishes from the story. In Gerbert she is both related to the host and amorous and, in spite of her initial hostility to Gavain (12556ff.), the theme of their love-making inter-

rupted by her brothers seeking vengeance for Gavain's previous slaying of one of their number (12725ff.) followed by her rescue of Gavain from the host's wrath (13343ff., 13458ff.) places this version, as distinct from the Walewein and Moriaen, in a relatively close relationship to the narrative of Chrétien and Wolfram. Gerbert's position as one of Chrétien's immediate continuators perhaps indicates that these versions represent deliberate variations on the Guinganbresil episode.

It is, however, also possible that all the extant versions derive from a single lost original with an adventure characteristic of the archetypal Don Juan, slaying the father and seducing the daughter. Many of the distinguishing features of the two groups are commonplaces also, capable of entering the tradition at any stage (e.g. the wounds of the dead man bleeding in his slayer's presence)53, or explicable by the fact that each new redaction of the adventure must make fundamental alterations depending on whether the story forms an independent episode of part of a continous sequence. Hence the author of the Moriaen follows a different adventure in the Walewein for the introduction to the story because his Walewein is beginning the lone part of his quest and the assaulted girl he meets must therefore be a new character rather than Ysabele, his companion in the source work. It could even be argued that the shield, the sole weapon with which Walewein is obliged to both defend and attack (Walewein 8970ff.), represents a reminiscence or forerunner of the chessboard. The fight is clearly a motif which cuts across the two groups of stories: it is present in Chrétien, Wolfram, the Perchevael and the Walewein, absent from the Moriaen, and in Gerbert is nipped in the bud (13343ff.). As Draak's comparison of the three latter works betrays only too clearly54, the possible relationships which can be postulated between even a small group of variant stories multiplies enormously once hypothetical archetypes are considered, and the method is less reliable than the analogous practice of establishing a manuscript stemma suggests; where the textual critic can base arguments on tangible linguistic correspondences between his different manuscripts, if no such verbal parallels exist between related versions of a story the scholar's argument ultimately rests on his subjective opinion of what constitutes, by its presence or absence in a particular version, a significant motif for comparison. Such reservations on the application of the ‘comparative method’ to medieval literary topoi apply similarly to the same author's analysis of the relationship between Lancelot's adventure in the Moriaen and its analogues.55 Coupled with the changing approaches to the formulaic composition of me-

dieval works to which the opening of this article referred, they also underlie the gradual but inevitable rejection of a ‘family tree’ as influential as A. Heusler's theory of the origins of the Nibelungenlied.56

A closely related problem is that of determining precisely what degree of original invention may be credited to an individual poet. Here one must bear in mind that even his original contribution to a particular episode may draw on the common store of traditional motifs.57 Thus there are some general resemblances (though not the fundamental one of broken hospitality) in the episode of Bran de Lis in the First Continuation of Chrétien already mentioned: after an amorous damsel in a tent yields willingly to Gauvain, he kills first her father and then her brother when they attempt to avenge her honour.58 All this has, as stated, an archetypal ring, though Gerbert de Montreuil presumably knew of the adventure when in his subsequent continuation of the work he describes the similar events which follow Gavain's slaying of Brun de l'Essart and form a prelude to the central episode related to that of the Walewein. The First Continuator must in his turn have known of Chrétien's Guinganbresil adventure with the similar theme of love-making interrupted by the damsel's relatives bent on avenging a kinsmen's death.

The accretive and repetitive nature of these traditions is confirmed by the doubling of motifs in Gerbert's redaction: more than one brother is killed by Gavain, who is twice rescued from death by their amorous sister. The manner in which details of the adventure could be varied can also be studied by comparing Heinrich von dem Türlin's version of the Guinganbresil adventure in Diu Crone.59 In its essentials the story is a simplified version of Chrétien and Wolfram with some details found in neither version, such as the dwarf playing chess with Seimeret when Gawein enters the castle (18797ff.). More significant for our purpose is the fact that Gawein has killed the host's son, Seimeret's brother, and another brother is intent on vengeance. Although Gawein plays chess with Seimeret and she aids his defence, the situation does not develop along amorous lines. While the very concise dénouement (18903-18933) shows the host acting as a mediator who does not intend vengeance, the substitution of a slain brother for a slain father besides the other details differing from Chrétien and Wolfram suggest that Heinrich von dem Türlin knew of other versions of the story, presumably French in origin, which bore a closer affinity to a story of the Gerbert-Walewein-Moriaen type.60

While the narratives of Chrétien and Wolfram perpetuated the Guingan-

bresil-Antikonie adventure in a distinctive form, it is clear that, at least as early as the 1220's, when Gerbert61 and Heinrich von dem Türlin62 were writing, elements of this narrative had in some versions become mingled with motifs from the other group of adventures. From the extant evidence it seems likely that many other redactions of both stories must have existed63, possibly following common archetypes which encouraged later cross-fertilization between the two basic groups. In view of the extent of the tradition and our derivation from the Walewein of most of the features claimed by Mrs Paardekooper as original to the Moriaen, there is no evidence whatever for supposing that the episodes in the Moriaen and Parzival are directly related; all the evidence points rather to French sources for the Walewein and the German works. Nevertheless, in this section of her argument Mrs Paardekooper has at least made the useful observation that there are indeed resemblances in the two groups of adventures.

In the next section of her argument Mrs Paardekooper (2.7) attempts to relate Moriaen's visit to the sea-coast (2355ff.) to a series of quotations drawn from Book v of Parzival. Most of the detailed points of supposed connection are so superficial that wishful thinking describes them more accurately than coincidence. Since all the quotations from Parzival come from this one book, the author seems to imply that a parallel exists between Moriaen's search for his father and Parzival's quest of the grail, both abortive at the first attempt, but there is no discussion of the wider implication of such a connection. In many of the motifs Wolfram follows Chrétien. There are no grounds whatever for associating Parzival's encounter with the fishermen on the lake (225, 2ff.) with Moriaen's failure to obtain a sea-passage from the sailors; the question of a hindered journey or a passage over the lake does not even arise in Wolfram as Mrs Paardekooper states. Here Chrétien shows a closer parallel to the Moriaen inasmuch as Perceval wishes to cross the river but finds this impossible (2985ff.). The need for shelter, the uninhabited countryside and the hoof tracks are also found in the corresponding passages of Chrétien (3024ff., 3035ff., 3422ff.). Sorrow is an obvious companion of failure in the case of both heroes, while the motif of a hermitage as a geographical focus is such a commonplace of Arthurian romance that one cannot possibly associate its use in the Moriaen with Trevrizent's hermitage. It is far more probable that the author of the Moriaen finds a structural model in the French Vulgate cycle or its Dutch versification in the Hague manuscript.64 Mrs Paardekooper's remaining parallel is erroneous: there is no mention of hot weather at this point in the Moriaen ana-

logous to Parzival 256, 5ff. The author of the Moriaen makes his hero remove his helmet so that his black face shall be visible (2410ff.), and at a later stage (2456-7) tells us that his head was hot and painful through hunger and bitterness. To associate these two quotations and in doing so to ignore the correct punctuation of te Winkel and Jonckbloet (45000ff.) gives the false impression that Sider dat hi danen voer (2455) is associated with the following line Sijn hoeft verwermdem ende swoer rather than the preceding Hine at no hine dranc niet, to which there is no parallel in Wolfram. Again Mrs Paardekooper does not say which work is supposed to have influenced which, but there is once more not the slightest evidence of direct borrowing.

Mrs Paardekooper confuses (2.8) Wolfram's distinctive emphasis on the kinship of so many of his characters with the commonplace epic use of the patronymic found in all medieval secular literature. If any explanation beyond the formulaic one is required for Acglavaels sone Moriaen (3098) it is surely that the poet wishes to emphasize the affiliation which he personally accepts, cf. lines 4ff. Nor is the formula, as Mrs Paardekooper claims, applied needlessly, since it points to the relationship fundamental to the work. The real characteristic of Wolfram is that even his minor characters are related; in the Moriaen they are, in contrast, introduced and omitted purely to suit the narrative, and are not named as in Wolfram, a point already noted in connection with the lack of geographical names in the Moriaen compared with Parzival. The formula Arturs suster sone (551) for Walewein has a parallel in the Walewein (2793).

The parallels which Mrs Paardekooper draws (2.9) between the siege of Pelrapeire in Book iv of Parzival and Gariët's arrival with relief for Walewein, Moriaen, and the hermit are based on selective use of the evidence and are unconvincing even as presented. There is no comparable state of siege in the Moriaen and the fact that Gariët brings his brother relief (2867) shows no affinity to the use of bruoder in Parzival 190, 14, for neither of the brothers Kyot and Manpfiljot is among the besieged. The correspondence of bread, meat, and two flasks of wine (3027ff., cf. 2881ff.) to Kyot's twelve loaves, three shoulders and hams, eight cheeses, and two flasks of wine (Parzival 190, 10ff.) is both imperfect and fortuitous, and it is absurd to find support for the argument in the fact that Chrétien differs in having six loaves and one keg of wine (1910ff.). The capricious use of a number like five hundred has already been noted and the same argument applies equally to small units. Mrs Paardekooper suppresses the facts that elsewhere the number seven is associated with Gariët's loaves (3182ff.), that the same

passage refers to the meat as venisoen65, a parallel to the chevrel present in Chrétien's account (1915-17) but not named in Wolfram, and that in fact Wolfram's figures should all be doubled since the brothers each supply the stated quantities (190, 16ff.). Gariët carries the food for his own sustenance in the first instance (3032-3), while the reference to two flasks of wine could perhaps be due in each case to the idea of a rider carrying one at each side. Whether this is polygenesis or pure coincidence, there is no evidence at all of direct borrowing between the Moriaen and Parzival here.

Mrs Paardekooper attempts (2.10) to relate the death of Perchevael's mother as related in the Moriaen to Wolfram rather than to Chrétien or the Lancelot tradition. There is, however, no doubt that the poet of the Moriaen writes entirely within the framework of the French traditions. The evidence of Perchevael's vain search for both lance and grail has already been noted, and the concluding lines of the work (4655ff.) place this beyond dispute. Mrs Paardekooper's comparison is based on a misunderstanding of the well-known fact that, whereas Perceval's mother certainly dies of grief after her son's departure as does Herzeloyde, in Chrétien the news is not reported to the audience until Perceval himself learns of it (3593ff.).66 There is also no doubt that in Chrétien his mother's death is central to the hero's guilt, since he sees his mother fall (620ff.), and his germaine cosine (3593ff.) and the hermit (6392ff.) explain this sin as responsible for his subsequent failure at the grail castle. This corresponds exactly with what is narrated in the Moriaen (3060ff.). Parzival, on the other hand, does not see his mother fall and only learns of her death from Trevrizent (476, 10ff.). This essential difference, evidently Wolfram's innovation, is consonant with the much greater complexity of Parzival's guilt.67 As regards the final parallel between Parzival 128, 23ff. and a statement earlier in the Dutch Lancelot that Perchevael's mother died in a state of grace (35911-2 Si sciet van desen ertrike/Op den selven avont helichlike), the Dutch here is less close to Wolfram than to the versions of the French Prose Lancelot which form the established source for this section of the work: la mère qui tant amoit Perceval commencha lors à plorer et manda maintenant le chapelain et se fist confesser et reçut corpus domini, et trespassa deu siècle le soir.68

Mrs Paardekooper (2.11; 5.6) compares Moriaen 3594ff., 3829ff., with Parzival 128, 3ff., 331, 15ff., and claims that the motif of the lost lands indicates a direct link between the works; furthermore, the prominence of the vengeance theme and the fact that in the Moriaen the lands are robbed from the father, in Parzival from the son, is supposed to show that the Moriaen is older.

A similar opinion was hinted at by J.L. Weston.69 However, even if Mrs

Paardekooper's facts were correct her conclusion would be suspect, for the admitted discrepancies in the passages she quotes would indicate a common source tradition rather than direct borrowing. In fact her comments neglect or distort the points at issue. The lost lands merely constitute one motif in the theme of the blood feud against his family in which the youthful hero becomes involved. Among recent critical surveys of this problem, the fullest is probably that of R.S. Loomis.70 Whether or not one accepts his ultimate derivation from Celtic myth, it seems clear that lost French sources must lie immediately be hind the various French, English, and Dutch works.71 Contrary to Mrs Paardekooper's assertion, the tradition in some form is undoubtedly reflected in Chrétien (427ff.)72, while her statement that the Moriaen presents, in contrast to Wolfram, a ‘complete’ account overlooks in their entirety the episodes of Ither, Orilus, Sigune and Schionatulander and the crucial rôle played by the subordinate vengeance motif in binding these episodes to one another and to the main thread of the story. Wolfram is fully prepared to draw on the traditional legend for his own interpretation of Parzival's career, and one can infer that the lost lands of Waleis and Norgals have been reconquered by the end of the work (803, 4ff.), even though Parzival does not mention this directly to Feirefiz (771, 23ff.). However much Wolfram chooses to relegate the Lähelin intrigue to the level of allusion and reminiscence73, the allysive technique points to at least as much knowledge of the traditional background history as the author of the Moriaen gives in his laconic and derivative outline of the facts, and probably very much more. It is astonishing that Mrs Paardekooper entirely neglects the other analogues even though M.F. Richey, whose earlier book she quotes, was clearly aware of the significance of the Perlesvaus and referred to the detail in which the feud is illustrated there.74 Beginning before the death of the hero's father, it inspires the name given to the child (456ff.) and is continued against his widowed mother (511-2, 3203ff., 5173ff.). Mrs Paardekooper's argument that the robbery of the father (Moriaen) is an older motif than robbery of the son (Parzival) is therefore revealed as an irrelevancy when the feud is seen in true perspective as a continuing process. Wolfram probably mentions only the enemies of the widowed Herzeloyde and suggests that Gahmuret passed on the inheritance intact (cf. 103, 6ff. and Cundrie's contrast of Parzival's material heritage with his spiritual decline, 317, 13-19) because he naturally does not wish to detract from the heroic character of Gahmuret by suggesting that he could not defend his territory.

The allusion to Perchevael's recovery of his lands in the Dutch Queste75 at a point which has no parallel in edited manuscripts of the Vulgate version is further evidence of the story's currency; there is also the reference in the Dutch Lancelot earlier in the Hague manuscript (36951ff.) where Chrétien, otherwise the source for this section of the work, supplies no parallel.76 As I have indicated elsewhere77, all the references in the Hague manuscript to these traditions can be traced to versions of the French Prose Lancelot and the derivative and incomplete Livre d' Artus. It is obvious that the translator of the Dutch Lancelot and Queste had access to versions of this French material and that the poet of the Moriaen merely summarizes some of the chief motifs at secondhand, probably inspired by the other allusions already incorporated in the Dutch. Again there is not the slightest evidence of direct borrowing between the Moriaen and Wolfram, and all the evidence points towards common secondary sources in French, adapted by Wolfram in a very eclectic and original manner.

In her next section (2.12) Mrs Paardekooper attempts to relate the rescue of Arthur's queen with the siege and relief of Patelamunt in Book 1 of Parzival. There are, however, no close similarities of language and all the motifs cited are stock epic situations or descriptions, which often have analogues even within Parzival itself. The theme of two besieging armies is hardly prominent in the Moriaen as Mrs Paardekooper claims, for the Saxons are merely said to ravage the country and capture Arthur (2956ff.) and are dropped from the action in the account of the siege (4163ff.) where only the Irish are named; later Mrs Paardekooper picks on this very confusion to support another point in her argument (364)! The arrival of a hero at a city besieged by two armies, and his request for information from a stranger, is found equally with Gawan's arrival at Bearosche (342ff.), while the theme of a besieged lady lacking a strong male defender, with the timely arrival of the hero and the welcome he receives, is another commonplace of which Hartmann's Gregorius and Book iv of Parzival supply examples. The welcome derives straight from the situation and is in any case required by court etiquette; and there is a closer parallel to Lahfilirost's commendation of Gahmuret to Belacane (21, 2ff.) in the steward's introduction of Gregorius to his mother (ed. F. Neumann, 1926ff.), for there is no mention of a meeting between Moriaen and the queen before the battle. The remaining motifs - the reference to the sea, the evening meal, the arming and the sortie the following morning with the heroes in the vanguard, the capture of opponents who swear fealty to their conquerors, the generosity of the victors -

are no less commonplace, and the fact that all occur in Book iv of Parzival, following Chrétien, led F. Panzer to reiterate that in its outline Wolfram's Book 1 is a recasting of that book.78 All the evidence is therefore much too general to establish a direct relationship between Book 1 of Parzival and the Moriaen; the random nature of Mrs Paardekooper's parallels is further shown by the fact that elsewhere (2.13) she points to an analogue to the sumptuous marriage of Acglavael and Moriaen's mother, with presents given to the guests and their eventual departure, not in the marriage of Gahmuret and Belacane as one might expect from her argument in the present section, but in the union of Gahmuret and Herzeloyde in Book 11. The only verbal parallel adduced by Mrs Paardekooper, the use of prijs bejagen (Moriaen 4318, 4325) is a stock formula in both Middle Dutch and Middle High German. Mrs Paardekooper's references to Parzival betray her lack of familiarity with German usage, for she confuses prîs bejagen (e.g. 468, 29; 584, 27; 692, 27) with the preterite tense of prîses jehen in the sense of ‘attribute’, ‘speak’, ‘impute’ (e.g. 208, 14; 387, 18; 691, 8). The Dutch prijs bejagen could be known from the Walewein (6833), but a glance at the entries in the dictionary of E. Verwijs and J. Verdam shows it to be a formulaic commonplace.79

A more obvious analogy to the military campaign of the Moriaen occurs in the French Prose Lancelot which has an extended account of a confederacy of Irish and Saxons who invade Arthurian territory, besiege a town, and capture the king.80 It is implied earlier in the same work that such a confederacy are the traditional enemies of Arthur81, while Saxons and Irish are numbered among Mordred's army in the Mort Artu82, and feature together also in the Livre d'Artus.83 This confirms our previous observations that works related to the Vulgate cycle of romances provide the essential inspiration for the poet of the Moriaen. Wolfram's Scottish army, which Mrs Paardekooper later (5.5) tries to derive from the more conventional geography of the Moriaen, needs, in the light of M. Wynn's study of his eclectic approach to toponymy as a whole, neither this explanation nor the historical parallel suggested by F. Panzer.84

In the third section of her article (359-62) Mrs Paardekooper attempts to show that the portrayal of Moriaen shares unique associations with that of Feirefiz, indicative of direct borrowing, and she later (5.3) claims that Parzival shows an emphasis on difference of religion rather than of colour which makes it the later work. I have already suggested that Mrs Paardekooper exaggerates the brash behaviour of the two characters and that this is

merely a minor indication of their Oriental background: they are ‘different’ in manners as well as colour, and Feirefiz at least is no less sophisticated than his Arthurian counterparts.85 Mrs Paardekooper points to Feirefiz's assumption that Christian ideals can be won in battle (814, 28ff.), but this is hardly surprising from a heathen in a work where the Christian hero himself labours for years under the same delusion. It is scarcely a significant parallel to Moriaen's youthful impetuosity. The fact that in both works miscegenation arises because a black woman is captivated by the handsome appearance (Parzival 29, 2; Moriaen 655) of an Arthurian knight is equally explained in the situation, not to mention human nature, and it is hard to base a case for direct borrowing on such a detail when many other literary analogues are well attested.86

The chief argument advanced by Mrs Paardekooper here is the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ theme to which she claims there is an allusion in both works, appealing to a study of H.B. Willson on Parzival.87 To place this problem in perspective the great dangers incurred in reading such biblical and liturgical associations into secular works must first be emphasized. Even Mrs Paardekooper admits that Willson takes his method to extremes, and the cogent criticisms of J. Bumke are highly pertinent.88 Examination of the bible commentaries on Cant. 1, v. 4, confirms this criticism, for there are few exceptions to the standard exegetical tradition which finds a purely figurative meaning in the blackness of this context: wordly disgrace, vilification of the Virgin Mary, or the persecution of Ecclesia.89 Theodore of Mopsuestia (ca. 350-428) was roundly condemned for proposing a purely literal interpretation according to which Solomon was defending his coloured Egyptian wife against her detractors. But this exegete could hardly be of much significance for the mainstream of Western tradition, and in any case Theodore's position as a member of the Antiochene school of exegesis with its pronounced anti-allegorical tendencies confirms that his interpretation is best viewed as an exception which proves the general rule.90

The history of the exegetical tradition of Cant. 1, v. 4 is also complicated by the fact that the lxx and early Latin versions of the text do not contrast the two adjectives, but use the copulative conjunction: ‘I am black and beautiful’.90a In spite of these reservations, we can retain the Vulgate phrase ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ as a convenient label to denote the contrast between outer blackness of skin and inner worth. What Mrs Paardekooper overlooks is that, once divested of its explicit biblical associations in this way, there is nothing unusual here; it is precisely the implication we should

expect to find in any medieval author who wishes both to emphasize the blackness of a Moorish character and at the same time make him appear in a sympathetic light. The only alternatives are to minimize the emphasis on blackness of skin - impossible for the author of the Moriaen who seeks to arouse curiosity about precisely this exotic detail - or to ignore or actually belie this blackness when a sympathetic Moor is introduced.91 In this sense the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ receives its most pointed expression in the aphoristic comments of Walther von der Vogelweide (35, 33-36)92, and, although it is customary for critics to see in such statements the forerunner of fashionable modern attitudes of ‘tolerance’93, it is plain that the need to emphasize the contrast in the case of a noble, or Christian, Moor implies Walther's tacit acceptance of the normal medieval standard by which black is the colour of hell and blackness of skin an outward pointer to heathen blackness of soul, just as the physical beauty of courtly characters reflects their inner qualities. This association of black men with the devil and blackness of skin with sin is firmly rooted in early Christian exegesis, which continues a tradition of classical antiquity.93a It is hardly surprising that both Wolfram and the author of the Moriaen constantly show their familiarity with this commonplace, which in Parzival pervades the work at the deeper level of allusion rather than through explicit statement. In his prologue Wolfram makes it the starting-point for his fundamental theme that the conventional standard should be transcended by an appreciation that inner attitudes are what really determine a man's spiritual destiny (1, 10ff.); Herzeloyde's contrast of God and the devil in terms of outward appearance (119, 19-28) conditions much of the hero's subsequent behaviour; Cundrie's curse points to the unnatural discrepancy of his outward beauty and his inner blackness (315, 20ff.); and Trevrizent explains how the brightness of Lucifer and his companions was changed when the angels fell (463, 4-14). In Book 1 the author's theme requires him to express the pious wish that the brave Razalic, who died black and unbaptized, may, contrary to normal expectation, be saved from hell (43, 4-8), but in a less guarded moment when he is speaking of the heathen Moors collectively and impersonally, Wolfram can revert to the medieval norm and refer to them as die nâch der helle wârn gevar (51, 24).

The author of the Moriaen equally shows his full awareness of the stock equation of physical and spiritual blackness. That Mrs Paardekooper fails to appreciate its commonplace nature is apparent in her suggestion (5.3) that is is ‘secondary’ and added by Wolfram. The ferryman's fear that

Moriaen is not a Christian (3464-5) is no isolated ‘aanloop tot de verchristelijking’ (365) but merely a variation of the constant surmise by all the characters that because of his colour Moriaen must be the devil from hell. Almost all the characters unfamiliar with Moors make this assumption spontaneously94; a notable exception is Acglavael, whose more thoughtful reaction is a tribute to the author's characterization - as Moriaen's father Acglavael has, of course, encountered black skin before (3563-7). As in other medieval works, the explicit connection of blackness with the devil might have been extended to heathens, but this is unnecessary when, as we have seen, Moriaen is already a Christian and the author takes pains to make him appeal to the Christian God on every conceivable occasion. He is a civilised Christian knight in spite of his black skin - this is the true significance of the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ theme. And, in contrast to Mrs Paardekooper's argument, this Christianization surely seems to indicate that the Moriaen is clearly a later work which wholly lacks anything of a crusading ethos.

To show that Parzival and the Moriaen are not mutually dependent in their treatment of the theme, it will suffice to characterize the normal standard and its corollary with some of the more interesting examples from a tradition which runs through the Middle Ages to the Renaissance and beyond and finds its fullest poetic expression in Shakespearean drama. Outside Wolfram and Walther, the best examples in Middle High German literature are perhaps supplied by the uncompromisingly dualistic outlook of the Rolandslied, where the description of the heathen king Cernubiles er was swarz unt ůbil getan (3765)95 virtually attains formulaic status with its repeated application to the kings of Carthage and Ethiopia and their 50,000 men (6346), also referred to as tiuueles kunter (6353). It matters little that not all heathens are black any more than all black men are heathens, for the distinct motif of the radiance of certain heathens could be employed to convey quite a different image.96 In the Chanson de Roland most of the saracens appear to be light-skinned, and the handsome Margaris of Seville, attractive to women (ed. J. Bédier, 955ff.) is presumably no darker than Marsilion, whose face can flush with anger (485). Belakane, too, had seen manegen liehten heiden (Parzival 29, 5). However, negroes form one of the Emir's thirty columns (3229), and the black followers of Marganice are notable (1917-8; 1933-4).97 There is no doubt that the conventional harmony of black skin and black soul was wholly acceptable to the author of the Chanson when he chose to employ it, as in the case of the heathen Abisme (1470-6), while it

has been shown that the contrast between the black faces and the white teeth of negroes, found also in the Moriaen (424, 850), had diabolic associations.98 There are no pagans to whom the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ theme can be directly applied, but an inversion of the concept appears with the traitor Guenelun, whose handsome exterior belies his inner falsehood (3762-4), much as with Parzival.

For an indication of how widespread these notions are in medieval literature as a whole, one can start from the commonplace that, in romances of chivalry, black knights are frequently hostile. It is obvious that expressions such as li noirs cheualiers might, in works with an Oriental setting, lead to an association with blackness of skin and soul.99 It would be rash to read too much into the fact that the antagonistic Belyas and his brother of the French Prose Lancelot wear black armour100, but in the Queste, where explicit allegorization is fundamental to whole portions of the narrative, the blackness of the knight who kills Lancelot's horse at a critical stage in his career can hardly be without significance.101 In Heinrich von dem Türlin's Diu Crone the version of the Guinganbresil-Antikonie adventure discussed earlier is immediately followed by an adventure in which an evil black knight oppresses a race of miscreants until their long-prophesied delivery by Gawein (18937ff.). Here the knight's blackness plainly extends beyond his armour and he is explicitly described as swarz als ein môr (19124) and simply der selbe môr (19126), while his rôle as a diabolic scourge of God (19258ff.) is unmistakeable. In the Perlesvaus an ugly black man, whose great size is emphasized, attacks and kills Cahus, the son of Yvain, in his dream (145ff.), while Arthur, on following up the adventure, slays an evil black knight and procures his head for Perceval's sister (372ff.). Hartmann von Aue102 follows the Yvain of Chrétien de Troyes103 in comparing the wild herdsman to a Moor, and at the time of Iwein's madness the motif is transferred to the hero (3348)104; the comparison perhaps enables the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ to be seen as a medieval antecedent of the theme of the noble savage, and characteristic interpretations of the wild man in this light to be historically justified105, even though the noble savage is habitually regarded as a revival of a classical theme dating from the age of discovery.106 It is hardly surprising that medieval Spanish literature also supplies examples of the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ theme where the biblical verse is cited directly107, while the most famous episode in Hrotsvitha's dramas, traditionally praised for its farcical qualities, supplies an interesting earlier example. When the lecherous Roman governor Dulcitius approaches the

three holy sisters, he is diverted from his purpose by a miracle; entering the kitchen in a lustful frenzy he embraces the pots and pans and is so covered in grime, as Hirena narrates, ut nigredo, quae inhaesit, similitudinem Aethiopis exprimit. Her sister Agapes points the obvious moral: Decet, ut talis appareat corpore, qualis a diabolo possidetur in mente. Subsequent miracles illustrate the positive aspect of the concept of inward and outward harmony: attempts to humiliate the girls by public exposure fail because their clothes miraculously cling to their bodies, while when Agapes and Chionia are finally burned alive, their bodies remain untouched by the fire - another implied contrast to the black stains which besmirched Dulcitius.108 Hrotsvitha's interpretation of her material closely follows a hagiographical source109 which links it firmly to commonplace patristic tradition.

Much later, the Middle English romance of The Kyng of Tars expresses the same attitudes in a totally different literary genre.110 The colour of the Christian king's daughter white so fether of swan (12) contrasts with that of her heathen husband to whom she is forcibly married, the soudan swart and wan (285); the outward contrast of their colour when they sit together is explicitly condemned by the poet (367-9). After her marriage, the princess dreams of her pursuit by the black hounds (397ff.; cf. 93), and, when the sultan is finally converted, his skin miraculously changes from black to white (854-6; cf. 424ff.), a clear indication that his conversion is genuine, in contrast to his wife's earlier feigned conversion to the Muslim faith (869-71). Inasmuch as the work makes no concessions whatever to heathen values, it is difficult to agree fully with the view that it presents the Saracen in a more favourable light than elsewhere.111

For other medieval examples of such transformations one could return to the Walewein and the black birds, embodying souls, which turn white on their emergence from the river of purgatory (5840-55). It is, however, important to note that the richest testimony to these medieval commonplaces lies in their descent to the Renaissance and their exploitation in drama. Shakespeare's Moorish characters have been the subject of the admirable study of Eldred Jones which, however, barely touches on the medieval background we have attempted to outline.112 Jones's character of Aaron, the embodiment of evil, suggests that the straightforward connection of black skin and black deeds is more than a ‘crude equation’113; in the light of the medieval antecedents we must endorse this opinion, and reject the term ‘crude’ outright. With Othello, the theme receives a double inversion. Himself seen by others, apart from Iago, as a living testimony

to the contrast of appearance and reality, Othello in his turn repeatedly contrasts Desdemona's fair outside with her supposed infidelity, and even in confessing her murder claims her white lie, accusing only herself of her death, has damned her. But the shrewd Emilia immediately penetrates the excess of subtlety which underlies Othello's self-deception: to her the truth is simpler, and appearances mirror the inner reality after all - O the more angel she, And you the blacker devil.114 However, with the revelation of Iago's guilt, Emilia's condemnation of Othello is shown to be inadequate, and the Moor's inner blackness is restored to true perspective.115 Scarcely less telling is Portia's irreverent inversion of the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ ideal when she comments miserably on her importunate black suitor, the Prince of Morocco: If he have the condition of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than wive me.116 But the poetic culmination of this essentially medieval tradition must surely be the discussion of women's faces in Love's Labour's Lost. Here Berowne's praise of his dark mistress leads into an intricate nexus of imagery in his disputation with the king and courtiers. While he maintains the paradox that no face is fair that is not full so black117 and devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light, his opponents in the argument uphold the straightforward equation with their assertions that black is the badge of hell and that, when Berowne at doomsday finally ceases her praises, no devil will fright thee then so much as she. However, the king's remark that, to look like the dark lady, Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack (sc. boast) contains a double irony, for, though presumably delivered with sarcasm, the previous history of the medieval topos shows that it might fittingly have been used to support Berowne's position in all sincerity. It is the more intelligent and humane Berowne, always sceptical of his companions' austere pursuit of an ivory tower scholarship, who by the end of the play teaches them that compromise in life may be better than blind adherence to a simplistic ideal. This end is partly achieved by the antithetical complexity of Berowne's language which transcends that of his friends who themselves tend to appreciate and express only the superficial level of imagery, an inferiority which the king begins to admit as early as the first act of the play with his concession, following Berowne's speech on the light of truth hidden in darkness, How well he's read, to reason against reading.118 The dualistic black-and-white imagery of the Rolandslied seems crude when contrasted with this sophisticated harmony of antithetical language and ideas, but the medieval commonplace with its variant forms can be seen as an essential component of the tradition which, secularized and broadened, underlies Berowne's philo-

sophy expressed through the imagery of light and dark ot these scenes of Love's Labour's Lost.

With this digression we have established that the theme found in Parzival and the Moriaen, which Mrs Paardekooper describes as the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’, is related to a common European tradition of interpretation, and is certainly no evidence of direct borrowing between the two works. We shall now return to Mrs Paardekooper's argument. It is difficult to assess her claim (4.1.1) that the thirty-line sections of Parzival are paralleled by the Moriaen, for she produces no evidence from the Dutch poem. The problems surrounding the structure of Wolfram's work are ignored.119 In te Winkel's edition of the Moriaen the prologue occupies 29 lines and two of the seven episodes have a number of lines exactly divisible by 30 (iv: 990; vii: 150), but within these episodes there is no thematic basis for division into thirty-line ‘stanzas’. Any convincing structural analysis of this kind is largely dependent on the presence of initial capitals of distinctive size in the manuscript120, and in view of their total absence from the Moriaen it is impossible to see the basis of Mrs Paardekooper's argument. Further suspicion is aroused by the fact that Mrs Paardekooper speaks merely of sections of ‘ongeveer 30 regels’ (362), and claims to detect similar patterns in the Walewein; if the structural principle really existed, it would be more likely that the Walewein provides a source for the Moriaen than that the latter poem shows any direct contact with Parzival. It is interesting to remember in this context that Lachmann thought that Hartmann's Iwein could be divided into thirty-line sections, but the theory never found general acceptance.121

Mrs Paardekooper's assertion (4.1.2) that the Moriaen and Parzival are the only complete works of the period in which the adventures of Gawain alternate with those of the hero is highly tendentious. It is pointless to maintain that, because Chrétien's Perceval is unfinished, it supplies no adequate parallel, for although Chrétien lacks Wolfram's elaborate use of cross-reference and allusion to establish the relationship between Parzival and Gawan122, no great expertise is required to distinguish the basis of this contrast in the Perceval, and the French continuations, when read in conjunction, confirm that Chrétien was understood in this way. J. Frappier refers to the parallelism between Gauvain and the hero in both the Perceval and Lancelot.123

The juxtaposition of the heroes in the Moriaen entirely lacks Wolfram's gradualistic approach, and there is no question of chivalry on different ethical levels; nor does Walewein's adventure, related at greater length

than any other episode in the work and taken over piecemeal from a known source, have any particular bearing on Moriaen's own quest for his father. Apart from their differences of character and temperament124, Moriaen, Walewein, and Lancelot are shown, through the rudimentary use of entrelacement which links their adventures125 to be equally outstanding as champions of chivalry. Moriaen acknowledges the supremacy of Lancelot and Walewein at Arthur's court(550ff., 607ff.), and shows himself, through the indecisive combat, the equal of Lancelot. Moriaen then rescues Walewein who in turn rescues Lancelot; hence the three are equal in honour. Each quest forms a distinct unit, and the absence of subordination of one to another thus suggests that Mrs Paardekooper's comparison with the Parzival-Gawan relationship is hardly relevant. Mrs Paardekooper's omission of any reference to Lancelot in this section reinforces this impression of her argument. The whole structure of the Moriaen, with the prelude at Arthur's court followed by an ordered sequence of adventures each dominated by one of several heroes, Lancelot's presence among them, their constant meeting and parting, and the rôle of the two hermitages with their anonymous occupants as focal geographical centres, points firmly to the influence of the French prose romances rather than to either Chrétien or Wolfram. In spite of the Dutch versification of the Prose Lancelot there is, as I have shown elsewhere, a parallel in the Livre d'Artus sufficiently close for some version of this fragmentary work to be regarded as a likely structural model for the poet of the Moriaen.126

Mrs Paardekooper rightly observes (4.2) that the compiler of the Hague manuscript places the Moriaen between the Lancelot and the Queste because the hero's search for his father and uncle must take place before Perchevael's death at the end of the Queste, a chronology confirmed by the closing lines of the Moriaen (4655ff.). However, the claim that the sequence of the Moorish theme followed by a grail quest shows direct contact with Parzival, where the same order of events occurs, is highly uncertain. The correspondence itself is so vague as to be mere coincidence, even if there were no positive evidence against it. Wolfram's expansion of his material to include his hero's parentage by way of a prelude is an example of the standard development of numerous romances in the thirteenth century126a; he could not have known the French Vulgate cycle which, whatever the additions and divergences, supplies in outline the source for the Hague manuscript. The compilation may be dated a full century after Parzival; Mrs Paardekooper attempts to counter this difficulty by appealing to the possibility

that earlier Dutch versions of the cycle existed.127 Dutch medievalists frequently become enamoured of the lost antecedents of their texts and for some problems, such as those relating to lyric poetry, general deductions about unattested traditions are perfectly valid. But to use postulated earlier versions as a basis for conclusions about precise relationships between extant texts usually results in sheer speculation; either the argument is a vicious circle, when the texts themselves supply the only evidence of their own sources, or else similar inferences can be drawn about all the works in question. It is indeed likely that Lodewijk van Velthem found a complete translation of the Vulgate in existence128, but most improbable, as Mrs Paardekooper tries to argue, that the Moriaen derives its place between the Lancelot and the Queste from an earlier tradition. The evidence suggests rather that the Moriaen was designed for the extant manuscript or for another copy of a Dutch translation of the Vulgate cycle, and was added even later than the other additional romances, for when Velthem placed these after the Queste he was, in Sparnaay's words, ‘either unable or would not take the trouble to establish any internal connection between them’.129 The construction which Mrs Paardekooper places on lines 23-29 of the Moriaen, that the poet is criticizing another compiler for failing to following a tradition which added the Moriaen after the Lancelot, is based on sheer speculation and is less probable than the simpler alternative, that the leitmotiv of the Moriaen was associated with the Lancelot tradition in a version of the French original known to the poet, who was thus inspired to add his own romance which included this theme and other material known to him. Such a hypothesis is strengthened by the refutation of te Winkel's theory about the prologue to the Moriaen and by the other evidence produced in the same context: the Moriaen is itself a compilation of miscellaneous Arthurian matter moulded together to form an appendix to the Vulgate cycle. Since his source probably gave few details about Moriaen, the poet filled out his work with adventures of Walewein and Lancelot drawn from diverse traditional sources.130 The inclusion in the manuscript of supplementary material on Perchevael between the Lancelot and the Moriaen is another feature which points firmly to French sources: Chrétien supplies the basis, but material on Perceval's youth which would have contradicted the information of the distinctive Lancelot tradition is omitted. It is even less likely that Wolfram should have inspired the compiler of the manuscript when the content of Chrétien's Perceval is itself subordinated to the Vulgate tradition. If the Moriaen were written later, the theme of

mutual rescue and the introduction of Gariët could have been suggested by the Perchevael, though this character in any case appears throughout the Vulgate cycle and the Livre d' Artus. Hence Mrs Paardekooper's contention in this section fails to attach due weight to the firm association of the Moriaen with the Vulgate tradition as distinct from that of Chrétien and Wolfram, a connection which is strengthened rather than weakened by considering the Moriaen in the context of the Hague manuscript as a whole. The mere fact that a search for the grail occurs in both traditions is a detail far too general to support firm conclusions.

Many of the points made by Mrs Paardekooper in her concluding section (364-7) can be passed over in silence, for, assuming her case to be proved, she repeats some of her arguments in an attempt to determine which of the two works was the earlier. The conclusion - that ‘de Moriaen en bepaalde gedeelten van de Parzival zijn rechtstreeks afhankelijk van elkaar’ (367) - is in itself suspect enough to raise doubts about the whole possibility of a connection. The last paragraph of her article betrays Mrs Paardekooper's dilemma only too clearly: her dogmatic insistence on the priority of Dutch culture conflicts with the fact that, if the Moriaen really is connected with Parzival, it is probably relegated to the level of the numerous imitative Middle High German poems of the Epigonen who take their inspiration from Wolfram. Justification is sought in an early dating which makes the Moriaen contemporary with Wolfram. This is in turn based on a dogmatic answer to the vexed problem of the date of the Walewein; Mrs Paardekooper presumably follows J. van Mierlo when she states that the Walewein was composed about 1190, but the most important of the two passages borrowed by the Moriaen derives from Vostaert's conclusion to the work, which van Mierlo in fact dates to 1210-20, after Wolfram's death.131 Van Mierlo has himself argued in favour of an early thirteenth-century dating of the Moriaen.132 There is only circumstantial evidence in any case, but in his edition G.A. van Es reviewed van Mierlo's arguments on the Walewein and showed them to be unacceptable: linguistic and stylistic data are inconclusive, the question of French sources is ignored, and the possible dependence on other Dutch works such as Vanden Vos Reynaerde leads into the vicious circle of postulating hypothetical antecedents of the extant sources, a danger to which reference was made above.133 Van Es himself also concentrates on an earliest possible dating of the Walewein which he places in the first two decades of the thirteenth century, using the French Prose Lancelot as a terminus post quem.134 For the French cycle he follows J.D. Bruce's dating of

about 1200,135 but this is in turn substantially earlier than what J. Frappier has more recently described as the ‘general consensus of scholarly opinion’ which places the Lancelot between 1215 and 1230.136 Even on van Mierlo's dating it therefore seems impossible that Wolfram could have been a contemporary of the author of the Walewein, still less the Moriaen. Whether or not there was a French source, Sparnaay is probably much closer to the mark in dating the Walewein to ca. 1250 with the Moriaen somewhat later.137

All this is confirmed by the ethos of the Moriaen138 and casts serious doubt on the other arguments adduced by Mars Paardekooper to indicate the partial priority of the Moriaen vis-à-vis Parzival. They can, however, be largely countered on their own ground. The early fourteenth-century fragments of the Moriaen were doubtless copied from an earlier manuscript (364)139, but this adds nothing to the hypothesis that the text of the complete work in the Hague manuscript of similar date must also derive from a lost original. Mrs Paardekooper also states (364) that J.L. Weston believed the Moriaen to be very old. That is not the case. Weston regarded it as a work which preserved early traditions in certain details, but ‘the form is probably later than the tradition it embodies,’140 and the preface to her translation makes clear her unequivocal belief that there was a French source and that Parzival represented the older version of the legend. As for the detailed traditions cited by Weston, we have already seen that the motif of Walewein's healing skill occurs in the Walewein and elsewhere in Dutch and other Arthurian literature; though doubtless old in itself, it cannot prove the age of the Moriaen or an affinity with Parzival, and was almost certainly known from earlier romances. Weston overlooked the existence of the motif in Chrétien.141 The invasion of the Irish and Saxons, with its parallels in the French prose romances already mentioned, may be as old as the historical Arthur, but it is likewise no evidence of an early date for the Moriaen.

Having built her case on the supposed affinities between the Moriaen and Parzival, Mrs Paardekooper now argues that some of the differences indicate the changes made by Wolfram to his ‘source’. The method is questionable, and the arguments are irrelevant unless one can accept that the works are directly connected: otherwise they merely support the opposite view. Some points, however, deserve comment in their own right. Mrs Paardekooper (5.1) refers to A. van der Lee's discussion of the size and strength of the sons who seek their fathers in variants on the archetypal theme142, claiming that this ‘early’ detail is dropped by Wolfram. She relates (5.2) the token of recognition borne by Moriaen (littekijn, 697) to van der Lee's account

of the prodigiously strong youth who demands his father's name from his mother and is given a ring or similar token to prove his identity when he finds his father.143 But no details are given and there is no reference to any such proof when Moriaen meets Acglavael; it is perhaps significant that van der Lee makes no mention of this motif in his discussion of the Moriaen and Parzival.144 Feirefiz may not be repeatedly described as tall or strong but there is no doubt about the exemplary nature of his outward appearance and inner qualities. As for a token of recognition, it would be pointless for Wolfram to employ such a device, since his mottled colouring is the most striking evidence of his identity imaginable (746, 21-30; 747, 19-748, 7), and a physical manifestation of his parentage is arguably even more ‘primitive’ than a ring. In the context of the work as a whole, the lack of external help in the mutual recognition of Parzival and Feirefiz is also significant for Wolfram's interpretative purpose, and it is therefore quite wrong to see the omission of a token as a purely fortuitous stage in a tradition.145 Here as elsewhere in her argument, Mrs Paardekooper fails to distinguish the purely mechanical process of source transmission from the creative reworking of an individual poet.

Mrs Paardekooper's contrast (5.4) of Wolfram's copious description of chivalrous background and ornament and the variety of personal names in Parzival with their relative absence from the Moriaen is, as we have seen, less an indicator of the direct priority of the Moriaen as she claims, than a sign of the totally different character of the two works. The problems of geography (5.5) and of Perchevael's lands (5.6) have been discussed already, as has the colour of the Moorish characters (5.3). The next section (5.7) apparently attempts to explain the role of Feirefiz at the end of Parzival, to which there is nothing remotely comparable in the Moriaen, as Wolfram's elaboration of the Moor of the Dutch poem. Here Feirefiz's participation in the grail kingdom is exaggerated - in no sense can he be said to seek and win the grail in a manner comparable to Perceval - and the argument appears to overlook the fact that Wolfram can hardly ‘convert and baptise’ a Moor from a work where, as we have seen, there is no suggestion of any heathen beliefs.

Mrs Paardekooper finally appeals (5.8) to the importance of Flemish culture in the courtly period as a whole. That is indisputable, but as a generalization it can provide no firm evidence that a particular work, the Moriaen, influenced German authors. Detailed studies do not affect the issue: while P. Tilvis's postulation of a Flemish archetype for the Middle High German

Prosa-Lancelot was well received146, we have firmly established that Parzival must antedate, and the Walewein and Moriaen postdate, the earlier French Vulgate text of precisely this work. The study of Tilvis which was perhaps intended to postulate the influence of Dutch source on Wolfram has remained incomplete, and the evidence presented, though of some interest, is very uneven in substance and certainly leads to no conclusive findings for any Middle High German poet.147

We have now reached the end of our survey of the arguments advanced by Mrs Paardekooper in favour of direct and mutual borrowing between the Moriaen and Wolfram's Parzival. In spite of the range of her arguments - Lancelot's adventure is the only substantial section of the Dutch poem which she passes over in silence148 - we have found that there is virtually no convincing evidence anywhere to support her case. Adopting the terminology of D. Alonso it is possible to say that, whenever Mrs Paardekooper attempts to establish a series of connections between the two works, either the parallels are so general as to be unfounded, or they consist of stock epic formulae, often present also in other works more likely to constitute the true ‘source’, or else similarity in matter (significado) is not matched by similarity in manner (significante).149 In particular there is no real foundation to the claims, first mooted by J.L. Weston, that the Moriaen on occasion agrees with Wolfram against Chrétien and contains early and important evidence for the tradition of the enfances of Perceval. The basis of Mrs Paardekooper's case is also seriously undermined by her failure to take into account the clear evidence of the Hague manuscript and elsewhere that Chrétien's Perceval was translated into Dutch.150

Although the findings concerning Mrs Paardekooper's thesis have been negative, it can be hoped that the detailed scrutiny of her arguments, at greater length than was necessary for their mere refutation, has led to the shedding of a little light on those features of the Moriaen which she discusses. The possible connection between the Guinganbresil-Antikonie episode and the theme of broken hospitality in Gawain's other adventures, and the relation of the ‘nigra sum sed formosa’ motif to the ethos of the Moriaen and Parzival, have led to digressions on traditions of importance in their own right. Elsewhere, it was at least necessary to restate well-known facts in proper perspective. All the acceptable evidence which emerges from a constructive appraisal of Mrs Paardekooper's article suggests that the Moriaen is a derivative work, ultimately taking much of its content from the French traditions of Chrétien and his continuators and of the prose romances. The

precise influence of much of this material on later works will certainly not be known until more adequate editions are available, and the completion of the edition of the Middle High German Prosa-Lancelot will undoubtedly stimulate new research in the field.151 Borrowing from the Walewein confirms the evidence of the Hague manuscript that the French works may, at least in part, have been known from versions in the Dutch language. The study Source and Tradition in the ‘Moriaen’, to which reference has already been made, brings further evidence to support these conclusions, and attempts to show that there are several pointers to the inclusion of the Moorish motif within the surviving French sources. But the likelihood of even common French sources for the Moriaen and Book 1 of Parzival, to which a cautious consensus of opinion, expressed in recent surveys, seems to point152, is weakened by the refutation of te Winkel's theory about the immediate antecedents of the Dutch epic, so that there is no evidence that there was ever a poem in French or Dutch bearing any formal resemblance to the extant Moriaen. This makes a Dutch original likely but at the same time greatly reduces the significance of the text as evidence of the historical development of the Perceval tradition. Nevertheless, quite apart from its literary and aesthetic value, the Moriaen is a useful example of how a poet living at least a generation after the classical era of courtly literature could recast a neglected and partially obliterated feature of the tradition by moulding it into a compilatory work with other themes and a structure which are better attested by surviving French romances. Had he known Wolfram's Parzival, his task would have been all the simpler - or he would, perhaps, have then regarded his appendix to the Dutch Lancelot as an unnecessary labour.

London, February 1971

Vorige Volgende

Over dit hoofdstuk/artikel

titels


auteurs


datums