SOURCE: "The 'Fortune' of Hartmann's Erec," in German Life and Letters, Vol. XXX, No. 2, 1976-77, pp. 94-109.

[Pickering is an English scholar whose books include Literatur und darstellende Kunst im Mittelalter (1966; Literature and Art in the Middle Ages, 1970) and Essays on Medieval German Literature and Iconography (1980). In the following excerpt, he asserts that, typical of chivalric romances generally, Erec's storyline exemplifies an essentially Boethian view of history as fortune.]

… I have contended that it is the Boethian view of history as fortune which is reflected in virtually all works of medieval narrative literature, even in Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival, a grail romance, and in Hartmann von Aue's Gregorius, a so-called 'courtly legend'. The two authors undoubtedly show a deep concern for the salvation of their respective heroes; they nevertheless as laymen tell and gloss their stories in terms of medieval fortune doctrine.…

Hitherto, anticipating greater difficulties elsewhere, I have restricted myself to the bald assertion that a typical romance of chivalry can only be Boethian. Here, taking Erec as example, I hope to show that it is—and not vaguely so, but as Boethian as the literary genre and the identity of the hero allow. A statement of the case in general terms would run as follows. Chivalric (Arthurian) romance is not concerned with universal history, the Christian faith, or even in any real sense with the Church and its sacraments, institutions, or history. Any allusions must fall to the account of characterization (e.g. of the hero) or be descriptive of a generally Christian world; they are not story. It is therefore not Augustinian, though anyone so minded could doubtless write an Augustinian gloss on the hero's progress to perfection. Chivalric romance (for instance Erec) is, however, equally not concerned with the destiny of nations, or real or imaginary peoples; at most the idea is present that dynasties make history (Erec is 'fil de roi Lac' and succeeds Lac), but this does not shape the stories, which are those of individual heroes, each of whom succeeds in the end, achieving a personal fama. The hero goes out of set purpose into the unknown in search of âventiure, to be tried in a series of chance encounters. He readily accepts hazards known to be impossible, even for the bravest. But as each hero in turn is for the duration of his own story the bravest, the fortune (sœlde) which he 'has' must hold. Success brings the recognition which (conventionally) Arthur's court alone can bestow. The consummation of the hero's career, now completed as story, is a state of 'happiness ever after' (i.e. until death), shared with the heroine. The final setting is often the hero's home country, in Erec's case an inherited kingdom. In an epilogue the poet may confidently assert hero and heroine now to be in heaven, their souls saved.—How, it may well be asked, can a story following such a course reflect a Boethian view of history? Is it not, as the handbooks say, simply the rationalization of an original fairy-story (Märchen)? That is precisely the point I seek to make. Hartmann's final rationalization falls within— well within—the entirely rational scheme of secular history which the Middle Ages had from De Consolatione Philosophiae. What other norm for story was there? Hartmann treated Erec's case, as any other schooled writer would have done, 'normally'.

How does this claim fare, however, when tested, not against such a general statement but against the ten thousand lines of Hartmann's text? All I can say at this stage is that I have reconsidered Erec in such a light and find Hartmann at least as concerned to deal adequately with Erec's fortune (sœlde) as he is to illustrate his knightly prowess and pay homage to chivalric ideals, or to criticize the 'Minnedienst' of the Red Knight (Mâbonagrîn), Erec's final opponent. Erec is, in other words, successful, not because he is or becomes in the course of his trials a perfect knight with a social conscience, and so deserves his success. He succeeds because he takes his chances, and because he recognizes when the moment has come to risk the gambler's throw, all or nothing! That is a statement requiring immediate expansion. Putting his trust, as always, first in God, Erec dares to be brave when bravery will not suffice without fortune. He puts his fortune to the test, and, 'by the grace of God', wins. (Good fortune is ultimately in God's gift; it is reward, but it is not in any strict sense earned). Does such an emphasis on fortune suffice to make Erec a 'Boethian' work? I have already made qualifications to which we now turn.

We clearly need to consider what modifications of the Boethian philosophy of history were required to match the reduced scope for serious historical thought dictated by the two premises 'world of King Arthur' and 'story of Erec'. (There are of course compensatory enlargements of scope for fantastic story). Moreover, we must make due allowance for the prejudices and the milieu of Hartmann and his aristocratic audience, their shared belief, for instance, that God was disposed to favour them and their kind, their mores: he too was courtly (hövesch.) The full Boethian hierarchy of historical forces (God, providence, fate, fortune, man's free will) is thereby almost automatically reduced, or is reducible, to the following: a courtly God, fortune (in the abstract, or personified as Dame Fortune), the personal fortune of Erec, and Erec as man. Let us start with Erec himself. Is it primarily as a knight that Erec first fails: 'Erec verligt sich'? Or is it as a man, who, forgetting his true nature, as moral philosophy would put it, wallows in sensuality until he is shamed by the reproach (itewîz) which such conduct earns him? Merely to rationalize a fairy-story as a tale of knighthood, it would surely have sufficed to show Erec content after marriage with the domestic life, a stay-at-home. One could of course say that here, as in the description of Enite's horse and saddle (and on several occasions) Hartmann opts for rhetoric, and that the full treatment of 'sloth' has Erec's completely unmanly behaviour as its consequence:

sîn site er wandeln began,
als er nie würde der man,
alsô vertreip er den tac.
(2934-6)

Erec's scrambles to get from bed to the dining-table (where he authorizes his knights to keep their engagements: 'ich lobe an im den selben site', 2965) and to Mass, preserve only tenuous links with his kind and with his obligations. His reaction when corrected is also ail-too human rather than chivalric, from wounded pride. But in time his true manheit (manliness and knightly courage) reasserts itself, and, God so willing, the fortune (sœlde) which was Erec's from the cradle … prevails. In the end he may, to a late twelfth-century audience, have appeared to deserve his final success, despite the unnecessary trials to which he subjected Enite. More important is the fact that his individual fortune survived his period of complete unworthiness. Sentimentally we may, with Hartmann, wish to attribute his timely recovery to Enite's patience and loyalty. Arthur's court (Hartmann is narrator) was more perceptive: it attributed Erec's success to Dame Fortune (vrou Sœlde.…

As for the complete Boethian hierarchy of historical forces, man and fortune are clearly active in Erec, but what has happened to divine providence and fate? (Providence is timeless; its projection in the created world of time is fate.) The answer has, I think, to be that providence was not available, and that fate was not needed. I argue as follows. We have reached the point where we must (at last!) distinguish between history-writing proper and story-telling, between the imperial historian Otto of Freising (or for that matter the policy-maker Reinald of Dassel and the propagandist Archpoet) making claims concerning the divinely inspired (providential) mission of Frederick Barbarossa, and Hartmann entertaining his public with the 'romantic' exploits of Erec. It would surely have been the height of impiety seriously to suggest a divine purpose manifesting itself through the career of Erec or any other of Arthur's knights. As for fate, the concept itself was in Hartmann's day still indispensable in a completely systematic moral philosophy—in the always contemporary De Consolatione Philosophiae, for instance, and in Alain of Lille's Anticlaudianus. The whole chain of causation could indeed be referred to as ordo, lex, or series fatalis. But Augustine's strong deprecation of the use of the term was evidently remembered; fatum could on etymological grounds be held to mean the word spoken by God (thus Augustine and Isidor), but one should always refer to the will of God, not to fate. This was theologically correct; it was equally a welcome solution for writers and speakers of all kinds, whether for deliberate statements involving religious conviction or for even the most casual expression of Christian 'fatalism', as in the modern ultimate reduction of deo volente to 'd.v.'. That leaves little room for either the term 'fate' or the discrete idea. Even so, expression had occasionally to be found for the lot to which an individual is content to resign himself.…

From the foregoing remarks it is evident that in chivalric romance the expression 'the will of God' will rarely be a direct reference to the God of Christian faith and dogma. That is indeed the case in Erec. Even at his devotions in church the hero prays for no more than the favour (genâde) of God, the bestower of success in combat. Much more regularly reference to God's will serves as the proper (or merely formal) preface to a more carefully worded attribution of cause to fortune (sœlde) or chance (geschicht), both of which are manifestations of God's will. The former remains, as it had been in antiquity (classical and Germanic) and still is, an idea of some complexity. It is an outside force governing the course and outcome of human affairs, particularly change (wehsel); it is also a 'charismatic' quality of leaders of men and of individual heroes—they 'have' fortune. Chance, as the unforeseen coincidence of courses of action undertaken independently, determines the circumstances in which fortune (in either sense) comes into play. For all these basic ideas—God's will, fortune, chance—there are, of course, in medieval Latin (the language of the poets' schooling) and in the vernaculars, more or less synonymous expressions and a range of grammatical possibilities which ideally one would wish to distribute and define. I have no such ambitions.

With that observation I conclude my argument that Hartmann's Erec is as Boethian as the genre and the identity of the hero allow. It remains to adduce the textual evidence.…

The unanimous verdict of Arthur's court on Erec's crowning adventure—his triumph of Joie de la curt and his signal efforts on behalf of the eighty widows whom he had rescued from their enforced sojourn at Castle Brandigân—is that this could not have happened had vrou Sœlde (Dame Fortune) not assisted his nurse when he lay in the cradle:

wan daz vrou Sælde ir stiure
gap sîner ammen diu sîn phlac
dô er in der wagen 1ac,
sô enmöhtez nimmer sîn geschehen.
(9899-902)

Does Hartmann's treatment of Erec's sœlde in the story up to that point make this somewhat emotional acclaim (the sudden appearance of eighty widows was a sensation, 'ein vremdiu sache', 9903 f) also his own verdict? The following outline account of Hartmann's development of the theme suggests strongly that it is.

The first reference to Erec's sœlde comes, it must be admitted, bewilderingly early. Hartmann introduces Erec as 'fil de roi Lac, / der vrümekeit und sælden phlac' (ll. 2f). This is, I think, merely a formula meaning that 'things have gone well for Erec so far; here he is, equerry to Arthur's queen, his story now starts'. Erec's story starts in fact with a humiliating encounter with a dwarf, a leit that will be avenged in the defeat of the dwarf's master Îdêrs at Tulmein in the sparrow-hawk contest. With what hopes does Erec approach this, his first real test? He hopes that God may give him increase of heil (139, cf. 496). He is wished gelücke (657) by Duke Îmâîn. 'Luckily' (see 751) he was also wished heil (753) by the onlookers before the contest. [Note: heil is not sœlde but may contribute to it, see below]. Erec then fights with borrowed and antiquated arms, not expertly, for he is still inexperienced, but 'sam er wuote' (859), until, having caught a glimpse of Enite, he feels the strength of two men (939). He is victor. He himself attributes his victory to sœlde (973), but it is interesting that Hartmann is satisfied with 'Êreck sô wol gelanc' (1296), and that Arthur's court rejoices only at his gelücke (1302); the queen was 'sîner âventiure vrô' (1528); all praised his manheit (1311). So far then, only Erec senses that sœlde (clearly fortune) favours him.

Erec's next testing is not in âventiure, but at a regular tournament organized by Gawain, as his contribution to the festivities associated with the wedding of Erec and Enite at Arthur's court. It is to take place in three weeks' time. Erec approaches this engagement with great circumspection, aware of his inexperience ('wan er vor der stunde / turnierens nie begunde', 2252 f) and, no doubt, of his new armour. He does not presume to carouse (giuden) with other knights ('er enwolde sich niht gelîchen / einem guoten knehte', 2383f. in the context of 2378-90). This earns him a high opinion among the knights who pay their courtesy calls. Hartmann's comment is:

in minnete allez daz in sach.
er tete alsam der Sælden schol:
man enspræche im anders niht sô wol.
(2401-3)

Erec's behaviour, namely his self-restraint as a test under approved auspices approaches, is 'such as Fortune requires' of a prospective favourite. When early the following (Sunday!) morning his competitors are still in their quarters attending to spit-and-polish (2407-10), Erec is out doing trial runs with two other early risers. He does well—why?

zwô genâde vuocten im daz:
sælde und grôze werdekeit,
die hâte got an in geleit.
(2437-9)

Hartmann has now committed himself: gratia Dei Erec has fortuna and virtus. Erec also excels at the vespereide, the fuller practice session on the eve of the tournament (2452-75). Surely, one would think from these indications, Erec's quite outstanding prowess in the actual tournament must earn him open acclaim in terms of his sœlde. That is not the case. King Arthur, hearing on the morning of the contest that Erec has been out for fifteen spear-casts (he has also been to chapel, but Arthur is not aware of this), rebukes his knights for their sluggishness and says 'good luck to him! it's his for the asking' ('got gebe im heil swenne er sîn gert', 2531), and indeed Erec performs, according to Hartmann, 'on that one day even better than Gawain' (the gist of 2720-63). But there is no direct reference to Erec's sœlde from any quarter. Instead, quite extravagant—and at first sight irrelevant—praise is showered on Erec by all who have seen him on and off the field:

… man begunde gelîchen
sîn wîsheit Salomône,
sîn schæne Absolône,
an sterke Samsônes genôz
(2815-8)

—not to mention Alexander, with whom Erec is compared for his milte. But are the comparisons irrelevant? Though I doubt whether Hartmann did better than to stumble on it, he found in the clichés 'wise as Solomon' etc. a means both of describing Erec at a moment when everything seemed to be going in his favour, and of foreshadowing a calamitous fall from grace. The fall from grace is a concealed tertium comparationis in the likening of Erec to Solomon, Absalom, Samson, and Alexander, for Hartmann knows that after the tournament Erec will repair with Enite to Destregâles—and to bed! (Hartmann remembers Absalom as a prototype when he deals more explicitly with the fall of Lord Henry in Der arme Heinrich, ll. 82-9.) The comparison is, in the event, belied by Erec's career, for his sœlde survives, or at any rate chance brings him back to the path—'der Saelden wec'.

The true path to sœlde (fortune) is what Erec claims to have been seeking all along—not mere âventiure, which is unmâze (7012-23). He chances upon it after taking what to his companion and friend King Guivreiz was the wrong route at a fork in the road (7811—906). This leads to the final testing of Erec at the âventiure (still âventiure!) of Joie de la curt. Despite all advice Erec argues his decision to accept the challenge as follows:

'ich weste wol, der Saelden wec
gierige in der werlde eteswâ,
rehte enweste ich aber wâ,
wan daz ich in suochende reit
in grôzer ungewisheit,
unz daz ich in nû vunden hân.
got hât wol ze mir getân
daz er mich hât gewîset her
dâ ich nâch mînes herzen ger
vinde gar ein wunschspil
dâ ich lützel wider vil
mit einem wurfe wâgen mac'
(8521-32)

In his assurance that he has found der Sœlden wec Erec is alone. Hartmann uses every means further to isolate his hero by enlarging on the alarm of Enite and the fears of well-wishers. He suggests even an element of arrogance and vainglory in Erec's behaviour. The latter's words 'got hât wol ze mir getân' border on presumption; he assures Enite as he takes leave of her that his victory is certain ('swenne mich der muot iuwer mant, / sôst sigesaelic mîn hant', 8868 f). For a reliable interpretation of Erec's words and behaviour at this juncture one should probably recall Hartmann's earlier remark: 'er tet alsam der Saelden schol'. He has made his decision to risk 'lützel wider vil' in the gambler's throw. The rest follows: the words expressing confidence and resolve, and the composure and restraint required by one who puts his fortune to the test. With the words 'herre, alsô got wil' to his host, Erec retires for the night (8589 f). The following morning he attends Mass and prays earnestly that he may survive (8636-40), breakfasts frugally, drinks 'sant Jôhannes segen' at leave-taking (8651 f) and arms himself for combat with the Red Knight. He is victorious. I think we may take it that Hartmann endorses the verdict of Arthur's court.… Wolfram von Eschenbach was less reticent. Of his hero Parzival he writes: ' … den ich hân brâht / dar sîn doch saelde het erdâht' (827, 17 f).

A few further points remain to be made about Sœlde, sœlde and sœlic, before we consider sœlekit. The successful pursuit of fortune is necessarily the prerogative of the hero of any given story: Erec has sœlde, and in due course brings it to fulfillment. And Enite? She triumphed sœleclîche (1381) at the beauty-contest (part of the sparrow-hawk adventure), and she no doubt shared Erec's fortune (and fall from grace) until the estrangement. But when Erec has so cruelly made her his groom and accumulated eight horses, Hartmann attributes her ability to bear the hardship to Dame Fortune and God's courtesy:

wan daz vrou Saelde ir was bereit
und daz diu gotes hövescheit
ob mîner vrouwen swebete, …
sô waere kumberlîch ir vart:
des wart diu vrouwe wol bewart.
(3460-67)

In her trials and near-despair Enite can only think of herself as unsœlic or sœldenlôs (3357, 5992, 6006, 6038), indeed, she was born to be unlucky: 'unheiles wart ich geborn' (5940). With the reconciliation comes a renewal of sœlekeit of the married state. Incidentally, nobody argues more urgently that fortune favours Enite than the completely deluded Count Oringles. The wehsel (a marked change of fortune) that will follow marriage to him (6251-61, 6270, 6486 f, 6499) should be sufficient proof, he thinks, of her sœlde.

Arthur's court knows sœlde, it will be recalled, as an almost permanent state of being—as such it is probably felicitas. It is occasionally threatened by intruders, but always assured and even augmented by the exploits of Arthur's knights. For the duration of Erec's story there are, however, after the awkwardness with the dwarf, no real threats. Hartmann, who knows and says often enough that sœlde (fortune) is God-given, seems to have no difficulty in accepting the convention of romance that, in addition to being sœlic itself, Arthur's court recognizes sœlde and accords due praise and honour to those blessed with it. In that sense it 'bestows' sœlde. With that goes the corollary that merely to be admitted to Arthur's court is a measure of good fortune. We noted above the fortunate case of Erec when he was still a newcomer: he later offers the following words of encouragement to Cadoc, who on his way to Arthur's court was waylaid and mercilessly scourged by giants:

swer ez dâ gevürdern kan,
der wirt schiere ein saelic man.
(5686 f)

Sœlde is of course cordially wished, e.g. at leave-takings (3598, 5709). A final point: Hartmann waggishly says of an otherwise unimportant wedding-guest (Gimoers of Avalôn): 'des saelde enwas niht kleine, / wan er minnete ein feine' (1930-34)—a case not envisaged by the moral philosophers!

Sœlekeit is occasionally interchangeable with œlde (4242, 6130, 6713 f, 9591); it is generally 'happiness'. When 'wished', it carries, expressed or understood (9670, 5709), the qualification 'lasting'. It is then the equivalent of fortuna manens or (earthly) beatitudo, the latter being the highest good according to De Consolatione, Book III. An important passage enlarges as follows on the parting wishes of the spilliute at the wedding of Erec and Enite:

Êrecke und vrouwen Ênîten
wunschten si aller saelekeit.
diu was in doch nû bereit
lange unde manec jâr.
ir wunsch wart volleclîche wâr,
wan zwei gelieber wurden nie
unz ez der tôt undervie,
der allez liep leidet
sô er liep von liebe scheidet.
(2203-11)

The happiness will last 'lange unde manec jâr', but end with death. This is in accordance with the teaching of De Consolatione: lasting happiness is impermanent. Consideration of this instructive passage gives, however, little guidance to the interpretation of Hartmann's first description of Enite (323-41)—'her beauty' and her sœlekeit:

ir lîp schein durch ir salwe wât
alsam diu lilje, dâ si stât
under swarzen dornen wîz.
ich waene got sînen vlîz
an sî hâte geleit
von schoene und von saelekeit.
(336-41)

God's favour manifests itself in Enite's beauty and, I think, 'grace' (or Enite is 'well-favoured').

… In Erec I find no word which in itself means 'fate'. The only character who both resigns himself to his fate and finds words to express his sentiments is Koralus, Enite's father. The victim of predatory attacks by enemies and now living in dire poverty, he says:

nû hât got über mich
verhenget swes er wolde .…
daz wil ich von gote hân.
(535-39, cf. 601)

He continues, echoing the words of Hannah's prayer (Canticle of Hannah in I Sam. ii. 7):

des gewaltes ist alsô vil,
er mac den rîchen swenne er wil
dem armen gelîchen
und den armen gerîchen.
(540-3)

These words suit the patriarchal figure whom Hartmann describes (275-80). He has none the less kept his arms by him, and lends them to Erec.

One may wish to read fatalism into the words of the accident-prone knight Keiîn ('nû enmac doch daz nieman bewarn / daz im geschehen sol', 4801 f), or more certainly those of Enite in her overlong lament at Erec's 'death':

dâ vür enhoeret dehein list,
man enmüeze im (sc. God) sînen willen lân.
der muoz ouch an mir ergân:
ich muoz et unsaelic sîn.
(5989-92)

Misfortune is the lot 'dealt' (verteilet) to her, she thinks (see 5985-6007 and compare 6037-41). There is, of course, in romance no room for fate as 'doom', or for a fate which has to be defied.

[Heil, gelücke, and (wol) gelingen] seem in Erec to be almost interchangeable expressions. I see no gaps for the insertion of the lexicographer's wedge, or in the case of gelücke / gelingen of the etymologist's. By contrast with sœlde they seem to refer primarily to success on a single occasion; they may indicate that the hero has sœlde. There are no 'sacral' overtones to beil, and only in the context of prayers may we assume that hopes of 'salvation' are expressed. Its general meaning is 'safety', 'safe outcome'. Of the hero, and of any other worthy, it may be predicated that he has beil or gelücke, or that 'im gelanc' or 'geschach wol'. In this connection Erec's encounter with Guivreiz le pitîz, king of Ireland, is instructive. In Hartmann's long account (4277-610) there is no express reference to the hero's sœlde. (He has known sœlde and will later chance upon der Sœlden wec. Erec's victory over Guivreiz is a turning-point). Guivreiz, though a dwarf, is a highly reputable and doughty fighter, and has hitherto had hitherto had gelücke (4305) in many a combat:

dar umbe man noch von im seit
daz im an sîner manheit
unz an den tac nie misselanc.
(4308-10)

He is able to engage Erec only after provoking him. The outcome will be beil (4343), he says: 'as God wills', favourable to the one or the other. Since neither combatant was a coward, says Hartmann, strength (Erec is already wounded) and beil will decide the issue. The term in Hartmann's use must cover the gelücke of Guivreiz and the at least potential sœlde of Erec, see 4382-7. As for Erec's victory: 'dô Êrecke alsô gelanc' (Hartmann 4463), 'dâ ist iu wol gelungen an' (Guivreiz 4519). Guivreiz refers in his words specifically to Erec's success in making him his 'man', and if his vanquisher is 'ein edel man', Guivreiz will not deem himself unsuccessful (4528-34).

A prefaced reference to God's will does not materially affect the meaning of beil (139, 2531, 4343, 6126) or gelingen (140, 1265).

[Time, Chance, and opportunity] are of course interlinked and cannot be separately (or fully) illustrated. Towards the end of the romance, Hartmann—and his hero, Erec—seem increasingly to be concerned with time (zît), both the appropriate time (for weeping, rejoicing etc.) and time in relation to chance circumstances and opportunity, let us say 'kairos': the recognition of the favourable moment.…

As for time in relation to freely undertaken commitments, Erec—unlike Iwein—has no difficulty in keeping appointments. His promise to return within three days from his pursuit of the dwarf (in the event, from the sparrow-hawk contest)—'failing sickness' ('ob ich vor siechtuome mac', 143)—requires no final dash to Arthur's court. Tension results rather from the author's manipulation of the unplanned movements of hero and heroine (they travel wîselôs, 'without a guide'), and of various assailants who have no particular reason to be abroad at the time, particularly in the tale of Enite's trials. The possibilities are comically or tragi-comically exploited. There is the timely escape from the inn to dupe the amorous count (3644-4100), and then in the episode of Enite's attempted suicide, the entirely fortuitous arrival, willed by God, of Oringles. Hartmann stays Enite's hand to give her time to curse the sword (responsible for Erec's death'), and to allow Oringles to take in the scene on which he has chanced—and to misread all the signs. He believes himself favoured and acts on the strength of this wân. Everything is in fact under control: 'got hete den gewalt und er den wân' (6351).

As for chance (geschicht) itself, it is so fixed in Hartmann's mind that chance is willed by God that he can be specific in a prayer: 'nû müeze got gesenden / disen ellenden / … ros dâ sî ûfe rîten' (6698-700). God restores to Erec his own horse which a garzûn, unaware of the need of the moment, has brought out to water and hands over without comment. This, says Hartmann, proved Erec's sœlekeit (6713 f).

Insufficient attention has been paid, I think, to the gambler's throw as a simultaneous challenge to all the forces which may govern man's destiny—God, fate, and fortune—to side with him. Erec rejects all 'wise' advice to forego the adventure of Joie de la curt. He ignores it as he also ignores omens ('ern was dehein wetersorgaere', 8128; 'er enphlac deheiner spaehe', 8135). He puts his trust in God (8147 f) and in his own conviction that his decision is right (8119-23); he was consequently 'sorgen vrî when he put his fortune to the test.… Note the emphasis on God's will and the favourable time and circumstances —'genaedeclîchiu dinc':

got hât wol ze mir getân …
ich vinde gar ein wunschspil
dâ ich lützel wider vil
mit einem wurfe wâgen mac.
ich suochtez unz an disen tac:
gote lop, nû hân ichz vunden
dâ ich wider tûsent phunden
wâge einen phenninc.
diz sint genaedeclîchiu dinc,
daz ich hie vinde solh spil.
(8527-38)

Erec goes on to explain his reasoning to his host at Brandigân: great honour will be the prize. His host accepts the validity of his argument, whereupon they 'call it a day': 'nû gân wir slâfen, des ist zît' (8579).

As for the fight, and the inspiration which sustains the contestants, these are properly treated under more conventional headings, chivalry, honour, love etc.…

Virtually the only God known to the Arthurian world of Hartmann's Erec is the 'courtly' God who looks after knights in their perilous exploits and governs their chance encounters. It is the same God to whom private prayers are offered in 'church'. There are, it is true, passages where Hartmann remembers that the Church is 'spiritual':

mit dirre rede si kâmen
dâ si messe vernâmen
von dem heiligen geiste:
des phlegent si aller meiste
die ze ritterschefte sinnent
und turnieren minnent.
(662-7)

(cf. 'mit vrouwen Êniten er kam / dâ er messe vernam / in des heilegen geistes êre, / und vlêhete got vil sêre / daz et im behielte den lîp, 8636-40.) Of the 'messe' as such, we hear once that Erec did not leave until after the blessing (2501), no more. As for officiating and supporting clergy, if one excludes a bishop 'von Cantwarje ûz Engellant' at the wedding of Erec and Enite (2125), they are at best 'diu phafheit' (9751), at worst 'such bishops, abbots and priests as could be got' (or 'rustled up'?: 'swaz man der mohte berîten', 6342-5). The God and the church of the Arthurian world in Chrétien's Erec are to nothing like the same extent disestablished. Chrétien has, it is true, no patience with clerics at festive gatherings; but when he deals with the Mass, he remembers not only the Holy Spirit but also procession, altar and the crucifix before which Erec kneels (700-5 and 2374-8). In short, if one allows Hartmann's opening lead that God is 'courtly', all the rest follows, and Erec's faith in his God-given fortune was not misplaced. I prefer the more strictly Boethian interpretation. Erec's real concern is his fortune. His religious observance is 'courtly'.