SOURCE: Thomas, J. W. Introduction to Eilhart von Oberge's Tristrant, translated by J. W. Thomas, pp. 1-46. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1978.

[In the following excerpt, Thomas encapsulates the manuscript tradition of Eilhart's Tristant and summarizes what is known of the poet's life. The critic continues by examining structure, style, narrative technique, and the theme of fate in the poem.]

AUTHOR AND TEXT

Composed some time between 1170 and 1190, the Tristrant of Eilhart von Oberge is the earliest complete account of the tragic love story of Tristan and Isolde and the version which, according to many scholars, most closely resembles the lost original.¹ As such, it is an invaluable reference point for all studies of the medieval Tristan material: its origins, as well as its widespread literary exploitation during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. However, Eilhart's epic poem is also important in its own right and was popular in Germany for some five hundred years, inspiring various works of plastic arts as well as of literature.

We know Tristrant through three early manuscripts, three late ones, a Czech translation, and a chapbook. The early manuscripts are from the end of the twelfth or the beginning of the thirteenth century and are fragmentary, containing in all only 1,075 (85 overlapping) verses, or slightly more than one-tenth of the complete work. The later manuscripts, the translation, and the chapbook are all of the fifteenth century, although based on much earlier, presumably thirteenth-century, sources. Two of the later manuscripts are complete, while the third uses Eilhart's version only to fill out the unfinished portion of that of his younger contemporary, Gottfried von Strassburg. The Czech translation appears in almost identical form in two manuscripts and is complete, although three sections (making up almost half) follow Gottfried and a redaction by Heinrich von Freiberg rather than Eilhart. The chapbook gives the story in prose. All variants of Tristrant, including the early ones, are corrupted to the extent that it is impossible to reproduce the exact language of the original, but at the same time there is close agreement with regard to plot, general spirit, and style. One can therefore gain a reliable general acquaintance with the story as Eilhart told it, even though minor details may have been altered.²

The threads which connect the author of Tristrant with a historical person are few and tenuous: one of the fifteenth-century manuscripts cites a “von Hobergin her Eylhart” as the poet; ten documents (1189-1207) contain the name of an “Eilardus de Oberge” as a witness and indicate that he was a vassal of Duke Heinrich the Lion; and the manuscripts contain traces of Low German, such as was spoken at the court of Braunschweig and at Oberg, some ten miles to the west. The scholars who identify the author with the Braunschweig nobleman remind us that Heinrich's second wife, Mathilde, was the daughter of Henry II of England and that famous patron of the arts, Eleanore of Aquitaine. They suggest that Mathilde may have brought a French version of the Tristan story with her when she came to Braunschweig and commissioned Eilhart to put it into German verse, or that Eilhart may have accompanied the duke to England, when he was banished, and learned the story there. Other scholars do not accept the Eilardus of the documents as the poet, for various reasons, chief of which is their feeling that the first courtly epic in German must have been composed at a well-known literary center, such as the Wartburg, in Thuringia, and certain courts of the Middle and Lower Rhine area. It has also been suggested that the Eilhart of the manuscript was not the original German poet at all, but a redactor of the early thirteenth century. The majority of scholars, however, believes the Eilhart of the manuscript to be the original poet and identical with the Eilhart of the documents. Nevertheless, some of this group do maintain that, although he may have been born at Oberg and served on occasion at Heinrich's court, he composed Tristrant somewhere else. The language of the manuscripts, even the early ones, is of little help in resolving the controversy as to where the poet lived because of their linguistic corruption and because he may have composed in a normalized Middle German or High German rather than in a specific dialect.³

Scholarly opinion is as divided about the date of composition of Tristrant as about the identity of the author and the place where it was written. Those who judge strictly by internal evidence—in this case the most reliable method—point to characteristics of pre-courtly style and the frequent use of assonance instead of pure rhyme and agree on a date of about 1170. Another and smaller group prefers a later date and gives one or more of the following reasons: the Eilhart of the documents first appears with his father, which indicates that he was a young man at the time (1189); Chrétien de Troyes refers repeatedly to Tristan and Isolde in his Erec, but Hartmann von Aue in his redaction of the work (about 1190) does not, which means that Hartmann did not know any Tristan story when he was writing it; the monologue of Isalde in Tristrant when she has just drunk the love potion resembles one of Lavina's in heinrich von der Veldeke's Eneit (completed about 1185) and must have been borrowed from it. Of these grounds for giving Tristrant a later date (1185-90), only that dealing with the Isalde monologue deserves serious consideration, which it has frequently received.⁴ Unfortunately, however, the many discussions have only shown how difficult it is to determine who was the borrower and who the lender when the relative chronology is unknown. The dispute has thus far produced not two, but five different conclusions: (1) Eneit is the older work, and Eilhart borrowed from it; (2) Tristrant was written first, but a later redactor interpolated an adaptation of passages from Eneit; (3) Tristrant was written first and influenced Lavina's monologue; (4) there was no borrowing or lending between Tristrant and Eneit, for the similarities result from an exchange between Eilhart's unknown source and the Roman d'Enéas, which was Heinrich's model; (5) there was no exchange on any level, and resemblances between the monologues can be explained by the similarity in the situations of the two heroines and by the prevailing poetic language of love.

The chronological relationship between Tristrant and Eneit is of considerable significance with respect to the position of the former work in medieval German literature. If Eilhart wrote before Veldeke—which, all things considered, is most likely—he was an innovator in style, language, and manners, as well as in subject matter. If he wrote after Veldeke, he was outside the mainstream of literary development, presenting his new material in archaic dress. In any event, one can hardly consider a date of composition for Tristrant of later than 1190 because both language and script of the early manuscripts are characteristic of the twelfth century.

Eilhart mentions no authors or works by name in his epic, but he does exhibit characteristics of style which resemble those of a number of earlier German writings—Annolied, Kaiserchronik, Rolandslied, and Lamprecht's Alexanderlied—and it is assumed that he was influenced by them in a general way. His chief source, however, appears to have been a lost French work which some scholars believe was the earliest written account of the Tristan story and others say was a redaction of this original. The author may have been Chrétien; an otherwise unknown trouvère called La Chèvre; or a third, completely anonymous poet.⁵ It is generally held that Eilhart's source, if not the original work, was very similar to it.

THEME

The account of the most famous lovers of the medieval period has lent itself to greatly differing literary treatments. Even the three earliest versions use the material in quite distinctive and dissimilar ways. Thomas concentrates on the erotic passion itself and the psychological reactions to it of educated and sophisticated members of courtly society. Béroul, on the other hand, tells an uncomplicated adventure story which turns about a feud between Tristan and certain noblemen of the court and employs the love affair primarily as a device to expose the former to danger and intrigue. Eilhart presents a classic tale of a hero's struggle against his fate, always emphasizing the desperate, though sometimes comic, situation of a strong and resourceful man confronted by an enigmatic force which seems bent on his destruction. Where Thomas is careful to motivate the action and reveal the underlying reasons for emotions and behavior, Eilhart just as consciously points to the irrational or at least inexplicable nature of existence, the working of what might be called either destiny or pure chance. Where Béroul's antagonists are well defined and thoroughly evil, those in Tristrant change from episode to episode, and the hero is as likely to be endangered by his friends as by his enemies. Eilhart's version is usually considered the most primitive, which in many respects it is, however its basic assumption—that the course of human events is intrinsically inscrutable—is sufficiently modern to have permeated much of contemporary literature.

Eilhart develops his theme of Tristrant and fate by means of a variety of devices: the repeated use of certain irrational forces to direct the action; frequent references to luck, chance, and destiny; the exploitation of highly paradoxical and ironical situations; and the employment of quite unlikely, but still possible, coincidence. These devices at first produce something of a fairy-tale atmosphere and later perhaps a feeling that the author is manipulating his plot in a rather capricious manner. However, the reader is soon aware that what seemed arbitrary and whimsical is in fact the working of a fate whose intervention in Tristrant's affairs becomes more and more consistent, if not predictable.

The two chief instruments of fate are the sea and the love potion, which are also used as symbols: the sea as the outer, the potion as the inner necessity which determines the hero's destiny. Tristrant was born aboard ship, or rather, it was there that he was cut from his dead mother's womb. In his characteristically terse manner Eilhart does not give the exact cause of death, but does imply that the sea was to blame: perhaps with motion sickness inducing premature labor. The Caesarian birth, of course, presages great deeds; that it should occur aboard ship foreshadows the important role the sea was to play in his life. The death of Blankeflur anticipates the seasickness of Isalde, which eventually led also to her death. Tristrant's second voyage—the journey from his homeland of Lohenois to Cornwall—is uneventful, but significant, for it marks the beginning of the heroic life prophesied by the abnormal birth.

The first great exploit is the battle with Morolt, which evokes the first three of many allusions to what may be translated as chance, luck, or fate (heil, unheil, gelucke, ungelucke). When Kurneval tries to dissuade Tristrant from the undertaking, the latter says, “We could be lucky and win both wealth and honor;” later a Cornish nobleman tells the hero that Morolt will certainly defeat whoever opposes him, and the youth replies, “I'll leave that to chance;” finally Mark's council accepts him as their champion, thinking “that they would leave the victory to fate.” It is clear that Tristrant associates chance or fate with the sea, for when he arrives on the small island which is to be the battleground, he at once pushes Morolt's boat away from shore. This symbolic act proves prophetic because soon afterwards Morolt dies of his wounds at sea. The defeat of the huge and powerful veteran by the totally inexperienced youth is clearly an intervention of a supernatural force and was foreshadowed by the references to luck, chance, and fate.

When it becomes apparent that Tristrant's own wound will not heal, he has himself placed in a small boat, which drifts out into the sea, rudderless and completely at the mercy of wind and wave. This picture of a man and his destiny was a literary commonplace in the Middle Ages, and it is obvious that Tristrant is consciously placing himself in the hands of fate. The winds blow him to Ireland, a place of great danger for him as the slayer of its national hero, but also the only place where he can be cured. One begins to wonder whether it is the intent of fate to destroy Tristrant, who after all escapes through his own shrewdness, or save him. And the question as to the nature of this intervening force—malign, benevolent, or indifferent—is never fully resolved. After three voyages, Tristrant returns to Cornwall at the end of exactly a year, the very day on which Kurneval, according to his lord's orders, was to cease waiting for him and go back to Lohenois. Since winds and waves—the primary factors in determining the length of his absence—have already affected the course of the story in a decisive manner, this “coincidence” reinforces the concept of the sea as a symbol of fate.

Not long afterward Mark sees two swallows fight and let fall a long, beautiful strand of woman's hair. The birds are readily seen as additional instruments of fate, just as in retrospect their struggle appears to be a foreshadowing of the conflict of Mark and Tristrant over Isalde. Mark declares that he will marry only the owner of the hair, and his nephew sets out to find her. This time he is in good health, has a full crew and a rich cargo, and is accompanied by a hundred knights. Still, although determined to avoid Ireland at any cost, he is driven to the very spot at which he had arrived as a helpless invalid, where once more both danger and success wait. The symbolism of the sea as fate is further strengthened, and the conflict between Tristrant and his destiny comes into the open, for, at least on a superficial level, it is his own heroic deed, the killing of the dragon, which saves his life, makes his search successful, and postpones catastrophe. The episode of the beautiful hair and the random search has exposed Eilhart to criticism from his own day to the present for what some have considered a wanton disregard for probability, but unjustly so.⁶ For it is neither carelessness nor naïveté, but the deliberate construction of a metaphysical framework which gives universality to the situation of the hero.

The most important effect of the sea on the story takes place during the return voyage, while Tristrant is bringing Isalde to Cornwall to be Mark's bride. When she gets seasick and the journey is interrupted so that she may recuperate in a harbor, a fatal chain of events is initiated. Brangene goes for a walk along the shore, leaving the love potion unguarded when Tristrant comes to Isalde's cabin to ask if she is ready to continue the journey. It is a hot day, and he asks that wine be brought for him and Isalde. A girl brings the potion, they drink, and destiny in a new form takes control of their lives. Distressed by his sudden passion, Tristrant leaves abruptly, and the confused and frightened Isalde pours forth a lengthy and eloquent protest to a personified Lady Love for having so violently taken possession of her. This monologue is the focal point of the entire work, not because it is a love story—which, of course, it is—but because Lady Love herself is merely a representative of the destiny which is formed by inner compulsions. It is both interesting and effective that Eilhart should place his lament against an inexorable fate at the point where the tragic situation emerges, rather than at its final resolution, and that he should put it in the mouth of the heroine, rather than that of the narrator. Brangene knows Tristrant and Isalde will die if they do not become lovers and enlists the aid of Kurneval to bring this about. “I'll leave it all to fate,” she says. Outer fate has caused them to become subject to an inner fate in a manner quite consistent with modern determinism. From now on the sea, though retaining its symbolic quality, is less of a directing force, and the potion takes over. Its power is such that for four years hero and heroine must remain together or die, and after that period they will still love each other for the rest of their lives.

Most of the episodes which follow are accounts of Tristrant's struggles for life. He knows the power of the potion is irresistible, accepts this fact completely, and is not troubled by feelings of guilt at deceiving Mark. The narrator is also not concerned with the deception—he is no moralist—and his frequent condemnations of the potion are essentially a refrain, a reminder that his hero is caught up in a battle with fate. The potion, like the sea, is ambiguous. Although it is a constant and consistent threat to Tristrant's life, it is also his chief source of happiness. He cannot withstand it directly, but can only make every effort to extricate himself from the perilous situations into which it draws him. He succeeds at times by cleverness, boldness, and the help of friends, at times by the intervention of an opposing and more favorable fortune. His wit saves him in the humorous scene by the linden, and his great strength and daring enable him to leap safely from the chapel, but it is purely by chance (1. 4161: von geschichte)⁷ that he then encounters Kurneval with his horse and sword. The narrator does not know why Tristrant placed his bare sword between Isalde and himself while they slept in the wilderness, but it proved very fortunate for him (1.4593: quam im doch zu heile). When his coat tears at the athletic contest and compromises his disguise, it is only luck that preserves him (1. 7834; von gelucke he abir genas), as was the case when a piece of the spear Antret throws at him serves as the means of his escape (1. 8306: daz was ouch sîn gelucke), and he would not have evaded the nationwide search that followed if he hadn't been lucky (1. 8677: wen daz es gelucke wîlt).

Other intrusions of an irrational or superhuman power are suggested by the pronounced irony of certain episodes. One is that in which Tinas, one of Tristrant's best friends, brings the dwarf, him most dangerous enemy, back to the court, where he almost causes the hero's execution. Another occurs at the end of the second war against Count Riole, when Tristrant, the shrewd and skillful general, is permanently disfigured and nearly killed because, quite inexplicably, he neglects to put on his helmet in a minor attack on a tower and is felled by a stone. And much of Tristrant's last adventure is pervaded by a fateful irony, which is seen especially in the fact that the hero receives his mortal wound neither in a great struggle against a national enemy such as Morolt, the dragon, or Count Riole's army, nor as a result of his overwhelming passion for Isalde, but merely as a helper in a petty and transient affair which is essentially a parody of his own deep and lasting love. Fortune turns against him in a series of seemingly chance events: Kehenis's hat blows into Nampetenis's moat; Tristrant forgets the telltale darts in the wall; and the two exhaust their horses in an accidental encounter with a deer which, as bad luck would have it, they couldn't catch (11. 9118-19: von gelucke ez muste geschîn, daz sie ez nicht enmochtin vân).

In the skirmish which follows, Kehenis is killed and Tristrant is again wounded by a poisoned spear. When the ship bringing Isalde to heal him is sighted, he asks his wife the color of the sail. She says it is black—meaning that Isalde is not coming—and in despair he lies back and dies. Her words came not from malice or jealousy, it was simply a foolish lie which she instantly regretted, an inexplicable instrument of an inscrutable fate. Eilhart has been censured for not having the falsehood spring from jealousy as Thomas does, but such criticism ignores the fundamental differences between their works.

The final, devastating revelation of the enigmatic nature of the forces which determine Tristrant's destiny is contained in the lament of King Mark at the death of the lovers. “I would gladly have treated Queen Isalde and my nephew kindly, so that the knight would have stayed with me always,” he says sadly, “It was very foolish of them not to tell me that they had drunk the fatal potion.” So it was, and their stratagems, sorrow, heroism, and deaths were all unnecessary, but quite believable, for that's how life is. However, the author does not end his story there. Cautiously, even somewhat dubiously, he adds: “I don't know if I should repeat this to you, but I heard say that the king had a rosebush planted over the woman and a fine grapevine over the man and that the two grew so tightly together that they could not be separated without being broken. Indeed, I also heard it said that this was due to the power of the potion.” It is just possible, he thus suggests, that there is meaning and even benevolence after all behind that which appears as pure chance. And not just for his hero and heroine, for they now have been generalized to man and woman.

STRUCTURE

Fate provides not only a theme for Tristrant, but also a structure, since the story falls readily into three main parts which coincide with three divisions in the life of the hero with respect to the forces which determine his destiny: the period of the predominant influence of outer fate (symbolized by the sea) and the two periods of the predominant influence of inner fate (symbolized by the potion). These are preceded by an introduction that includes the Rivalin-Blankeflur tale and the hero's birth and followed by a conclusion which tells of the Kehenis-Gariole affair and the hero's death. Although the work as a whole has an episodic quality, it is by no means formless. Structural unity is achieved primarily by the use of parallel situations and events, arranged in symmetrical patterns which show similarity, contrast, and continuity. In addition to this geometrical harmony, there is a certain amount of progression from one episode to another, although, in an account of a man and the irrational or superrational forces which act on him, the author must use restraint in having one incident develop from another by simple logic. When Gottfried tells of the two journeys to Ireland, the hero sails there the first time because Morolt had said that only the Irish princess could cure him. Tristan learns to know and admire her, recommends her to Mark as a bride when he returns to Cornwall, and later sets out again for Ireland to win her for his uncle. A story of an enigmatic fate cannot connect events so simply, even though it too must have unity.

The introduction not only supplies the first intimation of Eilhart's theme, but is also a significant structural element. The Rivalin-Blankeflur-Mark situation in which Rivalin comes to Mark's aid, wins his sister, and takes her away with him is duplicated in the main narrative when Rivalin's son comes to Mark's aid and wins his wife, who finally leaves him to join her dying lover. The highly romantic love of Rivalin and Blankeflur thus serves as a thematic prelude to the Tristrant and Isalde story and contrasts to the Kehenis-Gariole affair in the conclusion, a rather cynically portrayed episode in which Kehenis for years delays the satisfying of his desire, needs the assistance of a clever friend to attain his lady, and is betrayed by the object of his affection. The development is from a simple account of true love, to a story of irresistible and faithful, though adulterous passion, to a tale of casual adultery, with moderate desire and limited loyalty, and then back to the central love story. Tristrant's birth at sea prepares the audience for the voyages of part one, however unmotivated they might be, and finds a certain parallel in the events of the conclusion, when he dies by the sea and his body is transported over it to Cornwall.

The events of part one lead, by means of the potion, to those of part two and are paralleled by those of part three. Sections one and three are filled with journeys. Two of the earlier voyages resemble most of the later voyages in that their goal is Isalde, although Tristrant is not aware of this at the time. However, the two series of voyages are also dissimilar. Those of part one are connected with the service of Mark—the hero goes to Cornwall to serve its king, sails to Ireland as a result of having fought for him, and sails there again to find a bride for him—while the journeys of part three result in Mark's humiliation. There is also some correspondence with respect to the role the traveler plays. He comes to Cornwall as an anonymous nobleman, to Ireland once as a minstrel-merchant, and a second time simply as a merchant. In the later journeys, he arrives in Cornwall first as an Arthurian knight, with the entire court of Arthur, next in secret but under his own name and accompanied by a king's son and two attendants, a third time with Kurneval as a pilgrim, a fourth time with Kurneval as a homeless squire, and finally, all alone, as a fool. The first sequence may show a downward progression, the second one definitely does. It is true that the leper disguise does not fit into the pattern, but this was only an impromptu expedient, the purpose of which was not so much to conceal Tristrant's identity as to convince Isalde of his boundless devotion and remind her of her rescue from the lepers.

The most unusual parallel situations of parts one and three have to do with the two Isaldes: the one of Ireland, who twice saves Tristrant's life, and the less beautiful, less passionate, less clever one of Karahes, who unintentionally causes his death. Tristrant consummates his love to Isalde of Ireland without marrying her and almost is killed as a result. He marries the other but for a long time does not consummate the marriage, which also nearly costs him his life. Since the hero is reunited with the first Isalde after his death, his relation to the second does not establish a downward trend such as that indicated by the disguises.

The central part of the story, part two, consists of the four years of greater force of the potion, the period during which the lovers must be together or die. It is set in Cornwall, first in the royal castle at Tintanjol and later in a desolate wasteland in a remote area of the kingdom. The two settings provide the contrasts and similarities which give form to the work. At the castle the lovers are constantly threatened by the plots of their enemies, and Tristrant shows his cleverness in foiling them while when in the wilderness the lovers are endangered by hunger and cold the hero displays his ingenuity in meeting these perils. At the castle Mark is deceived as to Isalde's virginity by the substitution of Brangene; in the wilderness he is deceived as to her loyalty by the bare sword lying between her and Tristrant.

When the power of the potion decreases, the sojourn in Cornwall comes to an end, and part three of the story begins. This parallels all that has happened to Tristrant since leaving Lohenois. He travels to a land which desperately needs his help, saves it from its enemies, wins the love of a beautiful Isalde, who has a close relationship to the country's king, and establishes an intimate and permanent connection with her. Tristrant could have been happy and content, but, just as the sea had formerly twice carried him off to the Irish Isalde, so now does the might of the potion repeatedly draw him away to her. However, this last period does not merely duplicate what has gone before, for there is also a clear development toward the concluding episode. The visits to Cornwall become progressively longer, the intervals between them also longer (the last journey after an absence of three years), and the meetings between the lovers increasingly intimate, until at last even Brangene and Kurneval are gone and Tristrant and Isalde are all alone. These trends, together with that suggested by the disguises, point toward an end to the Tristrant-Isalde relationship and toward the concluding events.

The Kehenis-Gariole episode reflects the basic situation of the Tristrant and Isalde story in that it presents a tale of adultery and stresses the clever means by which the lovers circumvent the precautions of the jealous husband. It therefore might have been used as a sardonic commentary on the preceding narrative and thus have reduced it to the level of an amusing anecdote. But the death for love of the Irish Isalde contrasts so sharply with Gariole's weakness in danger that the intent of the author becomes quite obvious: to emphasize that the love story of Tristrant and Isalde, although containing humorous passages and situations, is not merely an adultery Schwank (short, comic narrative), but a thing of dignity and beauty. Tristrant's end is tragic in the classic sense, for he has fought nobly against his fate and bravely succumbed to it.

The fundamental structure of Tristrant consists of three major parts with an introduction and a conclusion. These are unified by a system of parallel events and situations which pair introduction and conclusion, parts one and three, and part two with itself, so that the second half of the work is carefully foreshadowed by the first. At the same time, events of one part lead thematically to those of the following. The same technique is used, but less consistently, to connect individual episodes within the primary units. The author also employs a variety of other linking devices which tie together events that have no causative relationship. When Isalde hurries to save the life of the injured Morolt, it is obvious that she will be the one to cure the wound of his antagonist, so that the audience is prepared for Tristrant to land in Ireland even though he is driven there by chance winds. And, on the second voyage, Tristrant's warning to his crew to avoid Ireland is an adequate hint of their destination. Soon afterwards Isalde's discovery that the notch in Tristrant's sword matches the splinter she took from Morolt's skull joins all three adventures: the Morolt battle and the first and second voyages. In like manner, the warning given by Isalde's mother to Brangene to guard the potion well so that none but Mark and his bride drink it anticipates the fatal error of hero and heroine, thus connecting the second voyage to the following events.

Several of the subsequent episodes are connected and given a sense of continuity by having them share distinctive settings and secondary characters. Four of the more noteworthy occurrences—the aborted murder of Brangene, the deception of Mark at the linden, the delivery of the priest's letter, and the penultimate meeting of hero and heroine—take place in an orchard with a brook which was right beside the palace at Tintanjol. In the case of two of these events, the orchard also serves as a thematic link, for when Tristrant comes by night to bring Mark the letter telling of his renunciation of Isalde, the sad and defeated hero recalls the many happy nights he had spent there with his loved one and ties his horse to the tree in which Mark was hiding on one of those occasions. Another specific setting is the clump of thorn bushes near the deer stand by the road leading from Tintanjol to Blankenland. Two successive adventures in part three begin at these thorn bushes where, in contrast to the intimate meetings under the linden, the lovers can communicate only at a distance. The best example of incidents being related to each other by a secondary character is the use of Aquitain, the dwarf, who unexpectedly appears to set the trap by the linden and the one in the king's bedroom, and then drops from the story. Other examples are the two campaigns which Tristrant leads against the same rebel, Count Riole, and the fact that the knight who captured Kehenis in the first campaign is the Nampetenis who kills him in Tristrant's last battle.

Many of the events of part three reveal, in addition to oblique linking devices, direct causal relationships. As a result of the “bold water” episode, Tristrant is forced to take Kehenis to Cornwall to prove that the first Isalde loves him more than does the second. Kehenis lies on this occasion, saying that Tristrant refused a challenge even though it was made in the name of the queen, and Isalde therefore causes her lover to be beaten. Because of her subsequent remorse at this deed, she sends a message begging the hero to come to her so that she can atone for her offense. He does so and, on the way back to his ship, is forced against his better judgment to take part in an athletic contest because he is challenged to do so in Isalde's name: he has to prove that he is incapable of being so unfaithful as Kehenis had said. The causal link between Tristrant's return to Lohenois and his fourth visit to Cornwall is that he is about to lose the service of Kurneval (who is to govern Lohenois for him) and is afraid he could never again manage to see Isalde without the aid of his friend. The connection between the second campaign against Count Riole and Tristrant's last voyage to Cornwall during his lifetime is simply that he became so disfigured by the falling stone that he has a perfect disguise for the undertaking.

It is clear that the relationship of specific episodes to each other is not nearly as refined as is their connection to the general framework of the story; Tristrant does not have a closely knit plot. At the same time, the sequence of events is neither capricious nor awkward, the transitions from one to another are not too abrupt, and there is sufficient anticipation and retrospection to provide at least a minimal sense of unity. In short, the arrangement gives the impression of conscious artistry. Indeed, some studies have maintained that Tristrant was constructed according to an intricate system of numerical composition in which each verse is a part of a mathematically exact, symmetrical structure of verse, verse-groups, group-blocks, and main divisions which is based on both language and plot.⁸ Because of the corruption of the texts this thesis can be neither proven nor disproven. What has been established is that Eilhart, like many other medieval poets, had a strong sense of form and symmetry.

MOTIFS

Certain motifs contribute to the structural unity of Tristrant and, since they also reveal something of the nature of fate, to the thematic unity as well. The most pervasive motif is that of the journey, with which the majority of the adventures begin and end. By putting them into a similar framework, consistency is added to the work as a whole, and, since the hero usually travels by sea, the audience is constantly reminded of the role of fate in his life. A similar unifying effect is exerted by the joy-grief motif, which the narrator stresses in his opening remarks and Isalde expounds upon in her monologue. It reveals itself graphically in the physical pain the hero experiences in his attempts to reach his source of happiness, Isalde; in the anguish both feel when they cannot be together; and in the deprivation they experience in the wilderness when they can be with each other all of the time. The motif is prefigured even before the drinking of the potion by the poisoned wound and the dragon's burns which the hero must endure before his first two contacts with Isalde, and it makes a series of later appearances: Tristrant's leap over the flour to Isalde's bed is so strenuous that old wounds break open and both he and she are covered with blood; for their constant companionship in the wilderness they have to pay with hunger and cold; they share their love on the night after King Arthur's hunting party only after the hero cuts himself on Mark's trap and bleeds “like a stuck pig”; their meeting during the fool episode is made possible by Tristrant's long sickness and disfigurement; and they are not permanently united until one dies of poison and disappointment and the other of a broken heart. All of this suffering, as well as the constant danger which surrounds them, has a significance beyond the particular circumstances, indeed beyond their individual fates. For it is a reminder that this is the nature of human destiny, that everyone must inevitably pay for joy with sorrow and pain.

A like conclusion can be drawn from the substitute motif, the first three appearances of which center on Isalde. The Irish steward announces that he killed the dragon and attempts to take the place of its real slayer as the husband of the princess. The king learns the truth and awards his daughter to Tristrant who, however, proposes Mark as a substitute. However, on his wedding night, Mark goes to bed with Brangene, who has been prevailed upon to fill in for her mistress. Soon afterwards a dog is killed instead of Brangene and its liver brought to Isalde as that of her lady-in-waiting. When the lovers flee to the wilderness, Mark notices Tristrant's dog and orders that it be hanged in his place. Two years later, Tristrant helps Havelin defeat his enemies and marries his daughter only because her name is Isalde. To show Kehenis why the marriage with his sister was not consummated, the hero takes him to Cornwall, where the latter can see how fondly Isalde caresses Tristrant's dog in his stead. In the following journey to Cornwall, Tristrant and Kurneval are seen and escape only after two errant squires take their places. In one instance, the substitute motif is comic—when Kehenis sleeps with a magic pillow instead of with Gymele—but in the other cases the substitution is a very serious matter. Brangene protests bitterly at being obliged to take Isalde's place, Isalde is grief-stricken at the presumed murder of her friend, the squire is so sympathetic with Tristrant's dog that he risks severe punishment to set it free, Tristrant's marriage to Havelin's daughter and Isalde's demonstration of affection for Tristrant's dog both spring from their deep love for each other, and Tristrant's life depends on the success of the decoys. A constant factor in the motif is that in all seven instances something of lesser value is substituted for something of greater value. The implication is that this is life. Just as one must always pay dearly for happiness, one must often accept less than that for which one has paid.

From the time at which Mark first becomes suspicious of Tristrant to the end of the story the dominant motif is that of the hunt. It first appears when Mark arranges a large hunting party in order to see if Tristrant will visit Isalde during his supposed absence. It recurs several times while the lovers are in the wilderness: Kurneval, after having become separated from Tristrant and Isalde, uses Tristrant's dog to track him down; Tristrant shoots game to supplement their meager diet of roots and herbs; Mark is hunting when he finds the lovers. Later, as a guest in Britain, Tristrant helps Gawain drive a deer from King Arthur's lodge to Tintanjol so that he may circumvent Mark and see Isalde. She initiates hunting parties on two further occasions with the same goal in mind. And just before their deaths, Kehenis and Tristrant so exhaust their horses chasing a deer that they themselves are easily overtaken by Nampetenis when he returns from his daily hunt. Sometimes Tristrant is the hunter, but when Mark watches him from the linden, when Utant follows his scent, when Mark finds him in the wilderness, when Mark (during another hunt) almost rides into the thorn bushes where he is hiding, and when Nampetenis catches up with him, he is the hunted, “a beast which was tame” (1. 4489: eime wilde, daz was zam). Except in the chase with Kehenis, whenever Tristrant does the hunting or Isalde arranges the hunt, the sport is only a means to an end, for what the hero actually pursues is happiness with his loved one. The hunt motif, therefore, repeatedly calls attention to Tristrant's situation as the persistent hunter of love's joys and the prey of forces determined to destroy him because of this pursuit.

The last motif to be discussed is that of death. It appears at the hero's birth with the tragic demise of Blankeflur and does not recur until Tristrant kills Morolt, an event which, however welcome in Cornwall, brings widespread grief to Ireland. Eight or nine years later, the faithful Brangene dies, and then—at ever-decreasing intervals—Rivalin, Havelin, Kehenis, Tristrant, and (only an hour or so afterwards) Isalde. In almost every instance the deaths are individually significant to the story: that of Blankeflur provides it with a mood and an omen; the exigencies of the plot require the deaths of Morolt and Kehenis, and those of Brangene and Rivalin serve (in the former case directly, in the latter indirectly) to isolate hero and heroine from their closest companions. However, the death of Havelin, since it is in itself unnecessary, indicates that the author intended to exploit the deaths of the secondary characters for an additional purpose: the establishment of a motif which should point in the most direct manner toward the final catastrophe. At the end, only Tristrant's wife and Isalde's husband remain to mourn and bury the dead.

One may see other motifs in Tristrant, but those mentioned are the most important. They help to tie the episodes together and thus contribute to the structural unity of the work. At the same time, the motifs raise questions about the nature of fate which continually reinforce Eilhart's basic theme.

STYLE

Although the use of motifs is surprisingly consistent, the style in general is highly informal and casual, sometimes repetitive, often deficient in explanatory material, and quite careless with respect to details. The tone and manner of composition are set by a narrator who frequently interrupts his tale with exclamations and comments to his audience and always takes a lively, personal interest in the events. He is not as didactic and digressive as the genial storyteller of Wirnt von Grafenberg's Wigalois, nor as ironic and humorous as the irrepressible narrator of Parzival. Nevertheless, he has his share of these qualities, and they blend with others to form a distinct personality which, of course, colors the entire account. We make the acquaintance of our reporter at the very beginning when he assails with mock bitterness those who don't want to hear and threatens to have them ejected. Having thus unified his listeners behind him against possible troublemakers, he soon develops a chatty, bantering rapport with them: frequently assuring them of the accuracy of his account, inviting their concurrence with his sentiments, and even asking their opinions as to how situations can be resolved. It is true that most of the narrator's asides to the audience consist of a single line and thus serve as convenient rhyme fillers, but they also create an intimate atmosphere of dramatic immediacy and establish a specific and consistent outlook.

The narrator's attitude toward his sources varies. Although he often insists on the exact truth of his account, at other times he hedges, saying only, that was what he heard, or, that was what the book said. Sometimes he pretends to be surprised himself at what has happened, and occasionally he allows several of his listeners to express their beliefs as to what took place. All this naturally has nothing to do with the author and his sources, but is one of many devices to produce verisimilitude. The narrator's attitude toward his hero is always the same. He admits that it looked bad for Tristrant to sleep with Isalde on her wedding night, but it did not really show disloyalty to Mark since he could not help it. It was also very stupid for the hero to attempt to go to Isalde when he saw the flour on the floor, but this too was due to the potion. Otherwise he was smart enough to have refrained. However, there are surprisingly few justifications of Tristrant's actions, just as there is little speculation as to the motives of others. The narrator is interested primarily in what happened and how it happened, not why. Perhaps this explains the small number of didactic digressions. For, with the exception of a somewhat lengthy attack on the evil of jealousy and a brief discussion of the futility of keeping watch over one's wife, he has little advice to give his listeners.

The narrator's occasional admission of ignorance as to fact and motives is related to a stylistic device—the controlled or restricted point of view—which is used quite skillfully in Tristrant when one considers that this use of point of view was not perfected until the nineteenth century. Usually the effect is to emphasize the role the hero is playing at a particular time or to stress the impression he makes on a certain group. As soon as the young Tristrant arrives incognito at Mark's court, the narrator ceases to refer to him by name, but, except when he is alone with Kurneval, calls him only daz kind (the boy) until shortly before he is knighted. This, of course, is how the court thinks of him. A similar procedure is followed during Tristrant's second journey to Ireland. When he goes to find the dragon, he is described according to the impression he made on the lord high steward and his men as the one who rode up with spear and shield like a great storm. Later when Isalde and Brangene are seeking the unknown knight who killed the dragon, the narrator does not mention Tristrant's name until he regains consciousness. Then the point of view is shifted from that of the ladies to that of the hero, and he once more becomes Tristrant. There are other examples of this technique, the most consistent of which are seen during Tristrant's last two journeys from Karahes to Cornwall. As soon as he and Kurneval decide to disguise themselves as errant squires, the narrator begins to refer to them with designations which fit their role: jungelinge, garzune, gesellen, all words for youths. But when they arrive with Tinas and Isalde and reveal their identities to them, the hero is spoken of as Tristrant. Eilhart apparently learned with practice, for the last use of the controlled point of view is the most successful. The hero becomes “the fool” as soon as he arrives in Cornwall so disguised and retains this designation until he reveals himself to Isalde. Thus the narrator sees him only as does the court at Cornwall.

Eilhart's restricted point of view is a development of his use of epithets. However, his epithet is not intended to limit knowledge concerning a person, but only to stress a specific aspect of a character as revealed in a particular situation. Eilhart's epithets, like his asides, frequently serve as rhyme fillers, but they are always appropriate to the individual and his condition. Those referring to Tristrant have a function similar to that of background music in that they help to interpret the successive roles he plays, telling the listeners just how they are to view him at a particular moment and sometimes even giving them a glimpse into the future. An account of the epithets which describe the hero during his early adventures will illustrate their use in general.

As has been said, when Tristrant first comes to Mark's court, he is referred to only as “the boy.” However, when he offers to fight Morolt, he becomes “the noble warrior,” which is a glance ahead since he has never yet been in a battle. In order to prove himself worthy of facing such an opponent, the hero has to reveal his relationship to the king and is thereafter repeatedly called “Mark's nephew.” This emphasizes both the king's reluctance to let him take so great a risk and the hero's loyalty to his uncle. Just before the battle, while Mark is placing his own armor on Tristrant, the narrator speaks of the latter once more as “the boy” in order to remind the listeners of his disadvantage in size, strength, and experience, after which he confers the epithets “Mark's nephew,” “the hero,” and “the bold warrior, Tristrant.” However, when Morolt sees him, he addresses Tristrant as “handsome and brave boy,” so that the disparity between the combatants is again stressed. The fight begins, and the narrator calls the hero “the steady warrior” and “the very bold Tristrant.” The epithets given to Morolt throughout the episode—“the strong,” “the large,” “the bold”—are of a nature to emphasize the danger and bravery of Tristrant. After winning the struggle, the latter becomes sick from the poisoned spear and is called “the sick one” or “the poor sick one” until Isalde's medicine cures him. At the end of the first sojourn in Ireland, the Irish king asks his advice with regard to the famine, and the narrator designates him as “the clever Tristrant,” which is again an anticipation, for the hero has as yet done nothing wise or shrewd.

So it is that the hero is accompanied throughout the work by a large number of frequently repeated epithets which, if merely listed by themselves, would almost give a sort of resumé of Tristrant's story. Not only he and Morolt, but also the other prominent characters have their epithets, which are more likely to indicate temporary than permanent attributes. This is especially apparent when Isalde, after planning the murder of Brangene, is called “the treacherous lady.” On the other hand, the designation, “the clever Tristrant,” is used so often that it becomes a sort of leitmotif, which describes the type of story Eilhart is telling, as well as its hero. The epithets interpret for the listeners and do so much more concisely than would be possible with phrases and clauses, thus contributing to the brevity that characterizes much of Eilhart's expression.

Many elements of Eilhart's style are connected with his passion for brevity. The almost total lack of psychological motivation fits the theme of an almighty, perhaps capricious, fate and also has a telescoping effect. So does the author's spotlighting technique with which he focuses on the primary actors and situations and does not bring others into the field of vision until or unless they are required. This is seen particularly in the case of Kurneval, who, except for the first voyage to Ireland, is constantly with his lord from Tristrant's childhood almost to his death. Yet at times the squire goes unmentioned for hundreds of verses, during the entire stay at Arthur's court, for example. When he is needed, he steps into the spotlight, and we see that he has been there all along. This method produces some surprises, as during the journey of the hero and Kehenis to Cornwall. They go by ship, hide in the thorn thicket, spend the night with Isalde in Blankenland, and only when they have started for home do we learn that they have been accompanied by Kurneval and Kehenis's squire, who appear because they are needed for the Pleherin incident.

The application of this technique to situations has the effect of putting the entire contents of the work into a single chronological sequence of simple events. This arrangement is seen most graphically in the prevalence of the word “then” (dô), which appears almost a thousand times in Tristrant, and in a marked inclination to use verbs in a perfective sense.⁹ The latter characteristic causes some problems when the author attempts to describe simultaneous actions, for the reader is likely to assume momentarily that they occurred in sequence. The spotlighting method works best when it contributes to clear-cut situations with symbolic or dramatic impacts. Two incidents will serve as examples, one in the introduction, the other in the conclusion. When Rivalin is in Cornwall, he wins the favor of Blankeflur “with a painful wound” and lies with her. If Eilhart had gone into details as to how he was wounded and how he happened to lie with Blankeflur—as Gottfried does in some 200 verses—the symbolic and prophetic implications for Tristrant would have been obscured. It is enough to say that he won her as a hero, as Tristrant was to win Isalde. A similar and praiseworthy restraint can be seen when Nampetenis, after giving Tristrant a mortal wound, predicts his own death at the hands of the hero's and Kehenis's friends. It is necessary, of course, that Tristrant be avenged, but an account of the battle and the slaying of Nampetenis certainly would have detracted from the crowning event of the story, the final reunion of hero and heroine.

Eilhart does not always condense: the Isalde monologue is about 200 verses long, the account of the first battle against Riole takes some 250 verses (almost twice the number Gottfried uses), and the description of the gala procession past the thorn thicket requires over 100 verses. But these are all dramatic scenes, and the author lets them develop without intrusion or comment to the point where a maximum impact is produced. Then he hurries on to the next scene. His strong interest in dramatic effects is seen especially in the propensity for letting the characters communicate directly to the audience in monologues and dialogues. Tristrant contains many monologues (ranging in length from a single verse to two hundred), although not appreciably more than other narrative works of the same general period. Although the nature of the Eilhart monologue is not particularly unique, his dialogues are quite distinctive, primarily for two reasons. The first is the pronounced tendency to pass without warning from indirect to direct discourse, usually after 1 or 2 verses, almost always after 4 or 5.¹⁰ The second is the highly staccato quality of the dialogue in direct discourse, in which the speaker often changes after each verse and sometimes after each half verse. This clipped, rapid-fire exchange, frequently continuing for some time, is perhaps Eilhart's most unusual stylistic feature. It would be interesting to know the extent to which the reader dramatized the work for medieval audiences. Since over one-third of Tristrant is in dialogue and even minor characters have speaking roles, it could have been quite a performance.

Another marked trait of Eilhart's style is the frequent foreshadowing of coming events. Sometimes this amounts only to a short, two-line summary of what immediately follows; often it is a brief glimpse into a more remote future.¹¹ The summaries can be effective introductions to new episodes, but occasionally they are a little distracting, for they interrupt the chronological sequence of incidents, and Eilhart does not always do this smoothly. For example, when the priest learned that the hero was willing to give up Isalde, “he quickly wrote a letter to the king and sent it by Tristrant, since he had no other messenger.” One might expect the next statement to tell the king's reaction, but it does not. We hear an account of what was written, how Tristrant started out, and something of his trip to the castle. The duel with Riole is another case in which the audience is likely to mistake the summary for the action itself: “Tristrant rode at him and struck him down, then rode back to him and used force to make him yield.” This is followed by a more detailed description of the combat. The short references to occurrences in a more distant future—a common characteristic of medieval heroic narratives—are well done. They help tie the episodes together and stimulate the anticipation of the listeners. As soon as Tristrant is wounded in the battle with Morolt, they are warned that he will be sick a long time because of it. When a piece of his sword remains in his opponent's skull, they are told that later it will be found, and the potion no sooner enters the story than the narrator hints at a fatal mishap to come. Such foreshadowings continue through the work and become more frequent toward the end. The narrator reminds his audience that Kehenis has the keys to Nampetenis's castle and adds that both he and Tristrant suffered later because of this. Tristrant's skill at throwing darts in the castle evokes the comment that it will bring him into mortal danger, and the lie of Tristrant's wife is followed immediately by the observation that she greatly regretted it afterwards. All these comments are to make us apprehensive about the safety of the hero; however, there is one whose purpose is to allay our fears. When, after the stay in the wilderness, Isalde returns to King Mark, who previously had condemned her to death, we are assured that “he kept her fondly for many years.”

A final noteworthy characteristic of the style of Tristrant is its simple, unadorned language, with few foreign words, similes, metaphors, and poetic exaggerations. Similes like “the king began to glow like a coal” are apt but rare, as are such metaphors as “Brangene brought her a potion she liked” (news that Tristrant was coming), or the designation of Nampetenis's castle as a hermitage because of his wife's confinement there. With respect to poetic exaggeration, one must admit that in the battle against Riole the blood ran unbelievably deep, but the number of combattants was well within the range one might expect of such a rebellion. As for exaggeration of feeling, Eilhart shows commendable restraint. The grief of King Rivalin and his retinue at the death of Blankeflur is briefly and unpretentiously expressed and does not obscure the tragedy itself. The same is true of the account of the deaths of Tristrant and Isalde: the sorrow of the hero's wife, King Mark, and the people of Karahes is described, but not at great length and without the commiseration of the narrator.

Notes

1. Among these are Friedrich Vogt, Geschichte der mittelhochdeutschen Literatur, 3d. ed., Grundriss der deutschen Literatur, no. 2 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1922), 1: 117; Arthur Witte, “Der Aufbau der ältesten Tristandichtungen,” Zeitschrift für deutsches Altertum 70 (1933): 162; Maurice Delbouille, “Le premier Roman de Tristan,” Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 5 (1962): 286; Karl Otto Brogsitter, Artusepik, Sammlung Metzler, no. 38 (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1965), p. 99; Gerhard Schindele, Tristan: Metamorphose und Tradition, Studien zur Poetik und Geschichte der Literatur, no. 12 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1971), p. 13; and especially Gertrude Schoepperle, Tristan and Isolt: A Study of the Sources of the Romance, 2d ed. (New York: Franklin, 1960), 1:8. A smaller number of scholars believes either the version of Thomas or that of Béroul to be closer to the original.

2. Most Eilhart research has dealt with the relationships and reliability of the various texts. The latest work to describe and evaluate the texts is Hadumod Bussmann's Eilhart von Oberg: Tristrant: Synoptischer Druck der ergänzten Fragmenten mit der gesamten Parallelüberlieferung, Altdeutsche Textbibliothek, no. 70 (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1969), which also presents in parallel columns the texts of the old fragments and the corresponding sections of the later manuscripts. One can readily see that there are few significant differences in content.

3. The various attempts to identify the original language of Tristrant have been summarized by Gerhard Cordes, Zur Sprache Eilhards von Oberg, Hansische Forschungen: Arbeiten zur germanischen Philologie, no. 1 (Hamburg: Wachholtz, 1939). About half of the scholars believe it was written in Middle Franconian; others assume it was a normalized Middle or High German. Cordes thinks the language was basically Thuringian.

4. Careful analyses of the Eilhart-Veldeke relationship and surveys of the preceding scholarship on the subject are found in Jan van Dam, Zur Vorgeschichte des höfischen Epos: Lamprecht, Eilhart, Veldeke, Rheinische Beiträge und Hülfsbücher zur germanischen Philologie und Volkskunde, no. 7 (Bonn and Leipzig: Schroeder, 1923), and Hadumod Bussmann, “Der Liebesmonolog im frühhöfischen Epos. Versuch einer Typbestimmung am Beispiel von Eilharts Isalde-Monolog,” Werk-Typ-Situation: Studien zu poetologischen Bedingungen in der älteren deutschen Literatur, ed. Ingeborg Glier et al. (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1969), pp. 45-63.

5. Delbouille, “Le premier Roman de Tristan,” p. 434, believes that Eilhart's source was that of all the Tristan versions. Schoepperle, Tristan and Isolt, 1:8, 108, thinks it the source of all versions except the continuation of Béroul and the French prose romance, but the majority of scholars maintain that Eilhart's source was one step removed from that of Thomas. The fifteenth-century verse redactions mention a book from which the author got his story, but the references are supported neither by the early fragments nor by the chapbook and may have been only a literary device. Bodo Mergel, Tristan und Isolde: Ursprung und Entwicklung der Tristansage des Mittelalters (Mainz: Kirchheim, 1949), p. 70, suggests that Eilhart's source was the lost Tristan story which Chrétien at the beginning of Cligès mentions as one of his first works. Other scholars are inclined to accept the trouvère with the amusing pseudonym, La Chèvre, who is mentioned in a miracle play as the author of a Tristan work, as Eilhart's immediate, though perhaps not ultimate source. Kurt Wagner, “Wirklichkeit und Schicksal im Epos des Eilhart von Oberg,” Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen 170 (1936): 182-83, theorizes that Eilhart's source was written by a cleric of northern France. Roger Sherman Loomis, “Bleheris and the Tristan Story,” Modern Language Notes 39 (1924): 321, and “Problems of the Tristan Legend,” Romania 53 (1927): 102, says that Eilhart's chief source, although perhaps not his immediate one, was a French-speaking Welshman named Bleheris. An extensive review of the scholarship on this question is found in Rosemary Picozzi, A History of Tristan Scholarship, Canadian Studies in German Language and Literature, no. 5 (Berne and Frankfurt: Lang, 1971), pp. 11-59.

6. Gottfried ridicules such coincidences in the old story (probably referring to Eilhart's account) in his Tristan und Isold, 14th ed., edited by Friedrich Ranke (Dublin and Zurich: Weidmann, 1969), lines 8601-28.

7. All line references are to Franz Lichtenstein, ed., Eilhart von Oberge, Quellen und Forschungen zur Sprach- und Culturgeschichte der germanischen Völker, no. 19 (Strassburg: Trübner, 1877).

8. Hans Eggers, “Der Liebesmonolog in Eilharts Tristrant,” Euphorion 45 (1950): 275-304, and “Vom Formenbau mittelhochdeutscher Epen,” Der Deutschunterricht 11 (1959): 81-97; C. A. Robson, “The Technique of Symmetrical Composition in Medieval Narrative Poetry,” Studies in Medieval French: Presented to Alfred Ewert in Honour of his Seventieth Birthday (Oxford: Clarendon, 1961), pp. 53-64; Danielle Buschinger, “La Structure du Tristrant d'Eilhart von Oberg,” Études Germaniques 27 (1972): 1-26, and “La Composition numerique du Tristrant d'Eilhart von Oberg,” Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 16 (1973): 287-94.

9. Daniel-Hermann Schorn, “Die Zeit in den Tristandichtungen Eilharts und Gotfrids: Studie zur Wirklichkeitsauffassungen in mittelalterlichen Dichtungen” (Ph. D. diss., University of Cologne, 1952), pp. 124-25.

10. The shift from indirect to direct discourse in the middle of a statement appeared in German literature with the “Hildebrandslied,” but by the time the courtly novel developed it was somewhat rare.

11. Heinz Stollte, Eilhart und Gottfried: Studie über Motivreim und Aufbaustil, Sprache, Volkstum, Stil: Forschungen zur deutschen Literaturgeschichte und Volkskunde, no. 1 (Halle: Niemeyer, 1941), p. 33, includes the summaries in his concept of Motivreim.