SOURCE: "Hartman's Êrec: Language, Perception, and Transformation," in The Germanic Review, Vol. LVI, No. 3, Summer, 1981, pp. 81-94.

[In the following essay, Clark outlines Hartmann's portrayal of Erec's maturation.]

For much of Hartmann's Êrec, the protagonist is characterized as a man plagued by one or another form of disorientation; an examination of the narrator's justifications for Êrec's frequent perceptual failures opens up a profitable avenue of approach to the work's thematic structure. Throughout the poem, the narrator repeatedly calls attention to the hero's unfamiliarity with his surroundings (ll.250, 4277, 4623, 5288, 6737, 7808), his non-recognition of opponents (ll.459, 4468ff.), and his general unawareness of impending dangers (ll.3123, 4150ff.). In several instances the narrator appends a disclaimer that attempts to minimize Êrec's failings on the grounds of physical unaccountability; thus, it is Ênîte who notes the three robbers before her husband becomes aware of them, and she does so, on Hartmann's account, merely because "si verre vor reit" (l.3124). Similarly, it is Ênîte who is able to ascertain the lecherous count's intent, because she is simply sitting at some distance from her husband:

… si sô besunder
an dem tische sâzen
und ensament niht enâzen.
(ll.3731-3733)

Perhaps the most curious disclaimer comes in a narrative intrusion that approaches a rationalization. Ênîte hears the approach of a "michel her" (l.4148) and warns Êrec, at which point the narrator hastens to note:

nû endarf niemen sprechen daz:
'von wiu kam daz diu vrouwe baz
beide gehôrte und gesach?'
ich sage iu von wiu daz geschach.
diu vrouwe reit gewaefens bar:
dâ was er gewâfent gar,
als ein guot ritter sol.
daz gehôrte er noch gesach sô wol
ûz der îsenwaete
als er blôzer taete.
(ll.4150-4159)

The reader's immediate response is that this is a fairly sound piece of reasoning, medieval armor being what it is. Yet, upon closer consideration, several difficulties arise, the paramount of which is: all of Êrec's opponents are armed as well, and yet they are cast as being more perceptive than he is, in that either they spot him before he sees or hears them, or they are often engaged in active pursuit of him. Moreover, none of Êrec's opponents sends out a woman as a kind of advance guard, as Êrec does. If knights were so hampered by the perceptual limitations of their martial gear, each knight would have a woman to act as an early warning system, much as a shark has a pilot fish as part of its defense system. Thus, the narrator's explanation, rather than settling the matter, as it ostensibly sets out to do, raises the thematically central issue of perception in an impelling way and causes the reader to examine instances in which Erec's perceptual abilities are limited or lacking, whether this is due to physical unaccountability or innate insensitivity.

In the cases where Hartmann shows Ênîte operating perceptively while at a distance from her husband, the author cannot be implying that close physical proximity to the dangers threatening his wife would make Êrec a more perceptive individual, for it is when Êrec and Ênîte are in greatest moral danger, as he succumbs to uxoriousness early in the romance, that he is most unaware—and she particularly aware—of the dangers such "gemach" (l.2967) presents. Similarly, in the companion "Scheintod" scene, Êrec is near his threatened wife, to be sure, but is for the greater part of the scene oblivious due to his unconsciousness. Quite clearly, the deciding factor cannot be physical proximity, but rather the consciousness of danger, a consciousness that entails the correct interpretation of perceptions and results in actions which can rectify a situation. The Êrec at the very beginning of the romance possesses this consciousness, and he wisely perceives danger and acts prudently to avoid physical confrontation when he is unarmed; he is significantly described by Hartmann as being "blôz als ein wîp" (l.103). But Êrec, in acquiring a wife and lover, lapses. Over the bulk of the romance that occurs after ÊErec has won Ênîte, Hartmann will chart the process whereby the hero is transformed from a man who cannot perceive correctly and, as a result, is often portrayed as morally and physically disoriented, to a man who, in gaining an understanding of the extremely perceptive woman he has taken to wife, is no longer "wîselos" (ll.250, 6480), that is lacking direction and lacking wisdom.

Êrec's journey, during which he comes to perceive and acknowledge his wife's "triuwe," proves to be a highly organized series of challenges, rather than a random sequence of adventures. All are challenges which treat some aspect of the associations between perception, thought, speech, and actions. In effect, Êrec is placed into situations where he is uncertain about the outcome and is even at times physically lost, so that he can learn through trial and error to exercise right perception, thought, speech, and action in order to extricate and orient himself. His wanderings in the dangerous physical landscape mirror his mental restlessness and uncertainty concerning the words spoken to him by his wife, and his battle encounters stand out like signposts in his spiritual journey: each presents him with a challenge, positive or negative, to which he must respond properly. Over the course of the romance, Êrec is brought, by way of negative example, to consider the implications of rash decision (his own resolution to use his wife as bait for robbers and thieves), unconsidered word-giving (Mâbonagrîn's pledge to his wife), and precipitous action (Oringles' physical and verbal abuse of Ênîte). And he is given positive exempla of prudent behavior in the heightened perception and wise counsel of Gâwein, Guivreiz, Ênîte's father, and especially his own wife, who speaks words of wisdom which Érec hears but initially cannot comprehend. Each of the adventures which befall Êrec teaches him and, at the same time, tests him in the translation of accurate perceptions into knowledge and, in turn, into sensible speech and action, so that the Êrec who repeatedly enjoins his wife to silence when she dares to give him information vital to his survival becomes a man who learns that it is wise to employ a variety of responses, now speech and now action, to individual situations, and who protects his wife from, rather than exposes her to, danger. In order to examine the implications of the transformation of the hero, it proves most illuminating to consider Êrec's changing attitude toward language, which serves as a mediator, on the one hand, between one's knowledge, so directly dependent on perception, and, on the other hand, one's speech, that vocalization which so often precedes action.

Hartmann's most obvious concern with language is couched in terms of a speech/silence dichotomy, ranging from his frequent employment of variations on sagen/ verdagen as couplet rhymes—for the repeated rhyme-pair placement serves as a particularly effective way of focusing on an important opposition—to the scrupulously presented debates that rage in Ênîte's mind, debates whose subject treats the question of whether or not to speak, and whose resolution breaks the silence. In fact, it is no over-simplification to state that the very plot hinges upon the presence and absence of speech, as well as on the perception and interpretation of language. To be sure, it would be rare to find a medieval romance that eschewed dialogue, but Êrec proves to be unusual in its use of dialogue as a thematic concern as well as a plot facilitator. In Êrec are raised questions not only about the suitability of speech at certain times but also about speech as a fitting vehicle for thought and as an adequate expression of intent.

Each of Êrec's adventures contains one if not more significant interchanges concerning the use, value, or suitability of speech. Êrec, "der wort wîse" (l.2521), is, in the early part of the romance, often cast in the role of one who demands information ("saget ir rehte wer ir sît" [l.1086]) or who admonishes others to remain silent when their words are foolish ("sult ir stille dagen" [l.577]); and it is Êrec who responds prudently to the maiden's encounter with the alternatively verbally abusive and stubbornly taciturn dwarf, of whom Hartmann writes:

daz getwerc enwolde ir niht sagen
und hiez si stille dagen
(ll.44-45)

Clearly, Hartmann's intent here in presenting Êrec's encounter with the dwarf, over and above his decision to follow Chrétien's model, is to create an encapsulated portrait of Êrec against which the audience can judge the hero later in the romance, and it is a portrait that heavily stresses Êrec's wisdom with respect to speech and action. First of all, it must be noted that the fundamentals of the opening sequence are startlingly like those of Êrec's later adventures. A woman rides forth into an unknown situation, while Êrec initially remains at a safe distance, albeit at the queen's behest. This is not at all unlike Enîte's testing dangerous waters for her husband; and the maiden, like Ênîte, bears the brunt of the consequences. Here, however, Êrec quickly perceives the danger, the ugly nature of the strange knight, and the necessity of his intervention, and caps this knowledge with a speech that stresses his eagerness to know even more:

Êrec dô ahten began,
der ritter enwaere dehein vrum man,
daz er ez vor im vertruoc
daz sîn getwerc die maget sluoc.
er sprach: 'ich wil rîten dar,
daz ich iu diu maere ervar.'
(ll.66-71)

Êrec's attitude stands in sharp contrast to his subsequent lack of desire to know the nature of the dangers facing his wife, as she alerts him to the presence of robbers and as he rebukes her for her admonitory speeches. Furthermore, it proves significant that Êrec's request to the dwarf is one for speech (l.76), reiterating the maiden's request for knowledge, which was summarily met with a demand for silence (ll.44-45). Êrec's request is countered by a rude enjoinder to silence ('lâ dîn klaffen sîn [l.83]) and an incorrect assessment on the dwarf's part: "ir ensît niht wîse liute" (l.88). The narrator, however, shortly thereafter notes that Êrec acted prudently ("wîslîchen" [l.100]) in postponing conflict until he is armed. Êrec returns to the queen and in a lengthy monologue (ll.113-143) recounts the events, interjects his perception and interpretation of them, and details his anticipated reactions to them. The composite portrait of the protagonist thus reveals Êrec to be a man who perceives, thinks, and acts wisely and who here relies on the capacity of language to communicate, for he both requests speech of the dwarf and readily lets the queen be privy to his thoughts of revenge (ll.135-137). Unlike the man he will become, the Êrec at the romance's outset is not averse to letting others know what is on his mind, and, moreover, he is positively talkative in comparison to either the maiden or the queen.

In addition, the reader is shortly thereafter accorded a rare glance into Êrec's thoughts in a short interior monologue. One recalls that Êrec has taken refuge in what he mistakenly assumes to be a deserted house.

er gedâhte: 'mîn dinc daz vert nû wol,
wan ich in einem winkel sol
belîben hinne unz an den tac,
sît ich niht wesen baz enmac.
des gan man mir doch âne strît:
ich sihe wol daz ez oede lît.'
(ll.264-269)

It is not only an unusual glimpse into Êrec's consciousness of his situation—he will not have another interior monologue until nearly 8,000 lines have passed (ll.8147-8153, when his thoughts are given as a prayer to God)—but it is also important that Êrec here makes what will be for him a characteristic misperception. Just as he will later not recognize the full value of his wife, so he here is unaware of the presence of inhabitants in what he takes to be an abandoned house; in each instance he takes control of, or occupies, before he has full information on the nature of the person he loves or the house he enters. In this scene, once Êrec has recognized his mistake, one finds the hero portrayed primarily positively, for he addresses Koralus (l.302) and later requests information (ll.447-450) and advice (ll.479, 495) from the old man. It is Êrec who comments upon Ênîte's caring for his horse and offers to do it himself (ll.344-346), an attitude diametrically opposed to that which he adopts later in the romance when he demands that Ênîte care not for one but for many horses. Moreover, it is Êrec who convinces Koralus that his words are "vür ernest" (l.565) about wanting to marry Ênîte, and it is Êrec who admonishes her father to silence about the matter of Ênîte's poverty:

'ir armuot hoere ich iuch klagen:
der sult ir stille gedagen.
ez enschadet iu niht gegen mir,
wan ich ir guotes wol enbir.'
(ll.576-579)

Throughout Ênîte has been surprisingly taciturn, having been limited to one obedient phrase ("herre, daz tuon ich" [l.322]), which stands in direct contrast to her later speeches. Here the reader simply does not know her thoughts; attention is focused on those of the man and on his willingness to communicate them: "ich sage iu wie mîn muot stât" (l.501). In fact, Ênîte is given no recorded speech until her fateful outburst:

si sprach: 'wê dir, dû vil armer man,
und mir eilendem wîbe,
daz ich mînem lîbe
sô manegen vluoch vernemen sol.'
(ll.3029-3032)

The reader is told that she laments as Êrec fights Îdêr (ll.802, 852), but the overall impression of a non-verbal Enîte is confirmed in the vignette which occurs after the clash in which Êrec wins the sparrow hawk:

in ir schôz leite in
daz kint vrouwe Ênîte
ze ruowe nâch dem strîte.
ir gebaerde was vil bliuchlîch,
einer magede gelîch.
si enredete im niht vil mite:
wan daz ist ir aller site
daz si zem êrsten schamic sint
und blûc sam diu kint.
(ll.1317-1325)

That Ênîte's one pre-outburst thought to which the reader is party is also Êrec's thought raises interesting implications. Hartmann notes:

ir beider gedanc stuont alsô:
'jâ enwirde ich nimmer vrô,
ich engelige dir noch bî
zwô naht oder drî'
(ll.1873-1875)

The thought is unblushingly sensual, and it suggests that Ênîte is perceiving herself as the sexual being Erec sees her to be. In fact, Êrec's initial interest in her is aroused solely by her beauty, and he frankly counters Îmâîn's cordial offer of better clothing for Ênîte with a cool statement concerning what he feels is worth noting in a woman:

'er haete harte missesehen,
swer ein wîp erkande
niuwan bî dem gewande.
man sol einem wîbe
kiesen bî dem lîbe
ob si ze lobe stât
unde niht bî der wât.'
(ll.643-659)

Lîp in Middle High German is, to be sure, a loaded word, but, given Êrec's subsequent tendency to uxoriousness and Ênîte's repeated association with horses, frequent icons for lust and the flesh during the Middle Ages, it is reasonable to assume that Êrec's interest is with 'lîp' on the literal, rather than on the abstract, level. His is an interest shared by the Arthurian court, which, after one dazzled glance at her person, selects her as "die schoenste" (l.1742). Her physical beauty even makes a self-professed lover out of the narrator, who affects inability to do justice to an account of her beauty:

vil gerne ich si wolde
loben, als ich solde:
nû enbin ich niht sô wîser man,
mirn gebreste dar an
solh sin ist mir unkunt
ouch hât sich manec wîser munt
in wîbes lobe gevlizzen,
daz ich niht möhte wizzen
welhen lop ich ir vunde,
ezn sî vor dirre stunde
baz gesprochen wîben.
si muoz von mir belîben
ungelobet nâch ir rehte,
wans gebrist mir tumben knehte.
doch bescheide ichz sô ich beste kan
und als ichz vernomen han,
sô was ûzer strîte:
ez was vrouwe Ênîte
diu aller schoeniste maget
diu ie, sô man saget,
in des küneges hof kam.
(ll.1590-1610)

That such a beautiful woman should have any thoughts other than sensual ones (ll.1873-1875) or concern for her spouse's physical safety (ll.802, 852) comes as a shock both to Êrec and, for that matter, the reader, who has heard what Êrec has to say and is aware that he does in fact think (ll.264, 582, 931, 1872, 2249, 2254, 2545, 2788) but who has found Ênîte to be decorative but essentially vacuous. If the reader is unprepared for Ênîte's subsequent portrayal as an extremely verbal wisdom figure, one can readily imagine Êrec's astonishment at getting much more than he bargained for in the person of Ênîte. And just as Ênîte begins to think and talk, Êrec reverts to minimal use of language and, with one exception over thousands of lines (ll.3004-6711), to thoughtlessness, both in the sense that he is not reported to have thoughts and in the sense that he exhibits reckless disregard for the physical person he previously so cherished. The exceptional thought ("gedanc" [l.4239]) that Êrec does entertain is a prayer to God that he—there is no reference to Ênîte—might be delivered without harm "von disem lande" (l.4235). Êrec, who is led by "der wec" into "ein unkundez lant" (ll.4277, 4278), needs Ênîte to escape, but he is not able to perceive the full extent of this need nor is he capable of expressing it now. And he will only orient himself in the physical landscape once he knows Ênîte on more than the carnal level.

Hartmann emphasizes the sudden glimpse into Ênîte's inner thoughts expressed vocally much more than does his predecessor Chrétien. Chrétien, like Hartmann, makes much of his heroine's beauty, but his Enide's beauty is said to be surpassed by her wisdom; she is "sage," and the careful reader is thus prepared for her prudent assessment of her husband's lapse, her reasonable commentary, and her wise actions as they journey through the forest. Moreover, Chrétien sets the stage for such wisdom, in that every character in his romance is judged according to his or her wisdom or folly. Hartmann, however, prefers the sharp disjunction between silence and language in his portrayal of Ênîte, probably because of its effect on an audience; Ênîte's verbal transformation is so unexpected that the reader has an opportunity to see her through Êrec's shocked and angry eyes. Êrec, who had been oblivious to the court's talk that had gone to the point that his wife heard it (ll.2999 ff.), suddenly apprehends: "dô vernam Êrec die rede wol" (l.3033). His immediate response is a speech studded with language terms ("saget" [l.3035]; "klaget" [l.3037]; "gelougent" [l.3038]; "lât die rede stân" [l.3039]; "die rede" [l.304]; "sagen" [l.3042]; "klagen" [l.3043]; "verswigen" [l.3044]) and capped with a terse "der ist genuoc getân" (l.3052). His reported speech thus is a talk about talking and not talking about language and silence, and thus sets the stage for the many debates on the wisdom or folly of speaking out that occur in the romance. Êrec's immediate response, too, involves a verbal deception and this is the first time that he employs a less than straightforward manner. As Êrec becomes taciturn and bids Ênîte to do likewise, he becomes covert as well in his actions; he secretly dons armor (ll.3064 ff), leaves instructions with the cooks that dinner is to be ready upon his return (ll.3088 ff.), and gives out that he "wolde rîten ûz kurzwîlen" (ll.3061-3062). The change in Êrec is not only signalled by Hartmann's overt comments that it has occurred (ll.2931-2934, 2966-2967, 2984) but also by his sudden command to his wife that she should don "daz beste gewaete" (l.3056). Êrec, who earlier self-righteously and in front of Ênîte spurned fine garb for his wife, now attempts to tell her through his command to dress well just how little he values her person.

Êrec does not value Ênîte not only because he feels that she does not value him, but also because she speaks, albeit reluctantly, words of reproachful wisdom which he simply does not want to hear. She possesses a heightened sensibility toward perception, as is witnessed in the court's derogatory assessment being filtered through her consciousness and, after thought (ll.3004, 3024), to Êrec. Yet it initially seems as if she has made one drastic misperception, for "si wânde daz er sliefe" (l.3026). Since it is "nâch ir site" (l.3013) to make love in the middle of the day, one would expect Ênîte to be relatively experienced at determining such a basic fact as whether her husband is sleeping or not. Rather, in allowing Ênîte such an outburst, Hartmann seems to be indulging in a relatively sophisticated deception on Ênîte's part. In a sense, Ênîte behaves as if Êrec cannot hear her and in fact depends upon it, so that in vocalizing her thought she anticipates no danger of its being heard and yet seeks that very feeling of possible danger. Her speech is not an involuntary slip but rather the logical culmination of her thought ("da begunde si denken an" [l.3024]), for Hartmann will later examine the thought/speech linkage in Ênîte's interior monologues and in her voiced lament and suicide attempt. Furthermore, subsequent events bear out the necessity of Ênîte's misperception concerning her husband's "sleeping" state; there are times when misperception brings benefits, just as the pair will learn that there are times when it is wise to lie. True wisdom, as the concept is developed in Hartmann's Êrec, entails the development of varied responses to situations and looks toward the greater good to be attained, rather than to the sometimes correct and sometimes flawed responses to individual situations. Thus, here Ênîte makes what appears at first glance to be an error of judgement but what is seen in the final analysis to constitute a necessary, if chastizing, function of wisdom. The ultimate wisdom of Ênîte's speech act lies in its results, for both Êrec and Ênîte learn that actions have consequences, that wisdom is an active virtue that must be cultivated, and that unpleasant but necessary experiences must be undergone in order to correct unconsidered behavior and rash action.

Ênîte, in effect, communicates to Êrec an unpleasant truth which he does not wish to hear, as shown by the fact that his immediate response is a perverse attempt to muzzle the reproachful voice that has expressed this truth. And he begins to engage in a series of contradictory actions which serve to reveal how complex is the truth which Ênîte speaks. One must first question the degree to which Êrec understands Ênîte's words. Hartmann states, "dô vernam Êrec die rede wol" (l.3033), but one does not find Êrec mulling over in his mind the words his wife has spoken; as noted earlier, Êrec suddenly stops having reported thoughts. Indeed, Hartmann makes at this point an assessment of what will be characteristic of Êrec for the bulk of the romance:

dô enwas aber niemen
der sich des mohte verstân
wie sîn gemüete was getân.
(ll.3077-3079)

Since we do not know the contents of Êrec's mind, we cannot with any certainty ascertain just how much of Ênîte's message Êrec has in fact understood. Hartmann's companion-piece, Îwein, affords an interesting insight, however, with respect to the reception of language, and it is one which can be directly applied to Êrec's situation. One recalls that Kâlogrenant engages in a verbal sparring match with Keiî—ironically, over whether or not the former should speak—and delivers a last admonitory salvo before he tells his tale:

'man verliuset michel sagen,
man enwellez merken unde dagen.
maniger biutet diu ôren dar:
er nemes ouch mit dem herzen war,
sone wirt im niht wan der dôz,
und ist der schade alze grôz,
wan si verliesent beide ir arbeit.

der dâ hoeret und der dâ seit.
ir muget mir deste gerner dagen,
ichn wil iu deheine lüge sagen.'
(ll.249-258)

The Situation is eerily akin to that of Êrec and Ênîte, except that Kâlogrenant incorporates the roles of one who tells something of significance and one who requests silence before telling. While it is Ênîte who makes a remark of significant import, it is Êrec who demands silence  from  the  one  who  makes  the  remark.  In Kâlogrenant's case, it is silence that is first requested before the statement of importance is made. And yet Kâlogrenant's very enjoinder to silence is fraught with importance for the cases of Êrec and Ênîte, for it details levels of perception that may throw light on the problem marriage in Êrec. Quite clearly one may have ears and yet not perceive anything more than "der dôz" (Îwein, l.253), and Êrec's immediate response to Ênîte's words of wisdom seems to be precisely that.

Yet it is in a further sense that Kâlogrenant's words may prove applicable to Êrec's and Ênîte's situation. As noted, Kâlogrenant both requests silence and then speaks words of import, while these roles are shared—and presented in reverse order, as Ênîte speaks and Êrec demands silence—by the Arthurian couple in Êrec. This breaking up of the roles is more than a device to further plot; it suggests that the reader is dealing with a collective entity in the persons of Êrec and Ênîte. Together, the couple forms one entity, so that the several and related functions of perception, thought, speech and action are parceled out variously to each member of the couple and, indeed, can be seen to shift over the course of the romance. This is not at odds with the prevalent idealized concept of marriage in the Middle Ages, where the husband and wife form one entity, although this oneness is couched in the divided and weighted terms of the hierarchical stance of the husband to the wife and, abstractly, the soul to the body, the spirit to the flesh, and the reason to the will. In Êrec this concept of the unity of man and wife is explicit in Ênîte's long lament when she thinks her husband is dead and addresses God:

' … aller werlde ist erkant
ein wort daz du gesprochen hâst,
und bite dich daz dûz staete lâst,
daz ein man und sîn wîp
suln wesen ein lîp.'
(ll.5823-5827)

Moreover, the idea that two form one informs Êrec on several levels, not the least of which is the narrative level, where the husband and wife are seen to split up functions between themselves, so that Ênîte perceives, thinks, and speaks when Êrec primarily acts. She counters Êrec's demands for silence with its opposite, speech, and meets his rashness with her hesitant consideration. On a more abstract level, Ênîte comes to function as a voice of reason to Êrec's willfulness, so that she tempers his headlong actions with admonitions, and his lust with her moderation.

But, most importantly, the concept of Êrec and Ênîte seen as a composite entity by Hartmann draws its credence from the division of language functions which the author employs in Êrec. In fact, the movement of the hero toward mâze, so often seen as one of the keys to the romance, finds its reflection in the interplay of language and silence on the part of Ênîte and Êrec. Êrec, initially so prudent in his speech and actions, is succeeded by an Êrec who not only cannot temper his rashness but who also imposes silence upon one whose words were for his benefit, and, ultimately, by an Êrec who can learn from admonitions and who can frame words—and situations—to his benefit. Correspondingly, Ênîte's garrulousness and verbal perspicacity are in their ascendance when Êrec's are at their nadir, so that her wisdom is seen to consist in her ability to translate her perceptions into knowledge and, in turn, speech, while Êrec remains his most unaware and taciturn. Similarly, Ênite is portrayed as being speechless when Êrec is seen to be wise and, correspondingly, most vocal at the outset of the romance; as he lapses into lustfulness, she becomes increasingly more vocal, until Êrec finally has access to the wisdom and loyalty/love expressed by her repeated outbursts concerning his safety. At that point Êrec begins to take over many of the perceptual functions previously fulfilled by his spouse, so that by the end of the romance he is often seen as recognizing danger before Ênîte does, and so that her reported speech dwindles and finally disappears, just as his perception and vocalization increase. The key, then, to the balance between the two halves of the married entity, that is, between Êrec and Ênîte, is the balance between language and silence, sifted through the awareness of what is prudent behavior. The turning point, of course, is the bedroom scene, in which Ênîte is so startlingly vocal and Êrec so surprisingly speechless. Here Êrec has ears but cannot hear in the fundamental sense, and Ênîte must repeat her admonitory/revelatory speeches over the course of several adventures until the significance of her words penetrates Êrec's consciousness and he stops misperceiving her.

In each of these adventures Ênîte is forbidden "ze sprechenne ir munt" (l.3099) or to report on "swaz si vernaeme/oder swaz si gesaehe" (ll.3101-3102, reiterated in ll.3963 ff). Hartmann's perception-to-language association is strengthened by word pairs:

vil drate si hin umbe sack,
zÊrecke si mit vorhten sprach
(ll.3378-3379, my italics)

       als si sînen ernest sack
und daz erz von herzen sprach
(ll.3838-3839, my italics)

and by the meticulously set forth chains of command by which Ênîte perceives, then inwardly debates concerning language or silence ([ge] sagen / [ge] [ver] dagen in ll.3146-3147, 3184-3185, 3374-3375) and then speaks. Êrec does not have access to the workings of her mind, although the reader does, but he does receive explicitly the conclusion to which he will eventually come: that Ênîte exhibits triuwe. In her very first infraction of Êrec's gag rule, Ênîte tells Êrec her motivations:

'wil ich dir durch triuwe sagen
(dînen schaden enmac ich niht verdagen)'
(ll.3184-3185, my italics)

Yet it appears that he does not hear her very well, for in his subsequent reproach he does not even mention the issue of her motivations but instead concentrates on what he perceives to be her characteristically female, perverse disobedience (ll.3238-3257). Êrec is given the truth but either will not recognize it or simply, through selective hearing, does not perceive it.

Ênîte's second outburst does not mention triuwe, but she urges Êrec "durch got" (l.3380) to listen to her, and the reader knows that she speaks because she fears that on account of "untriuwen" (l.3367) something might happen to Êrec. The reader also notes Ênîte's conclusion in her interior monologue:

'ich waene ez solde verdagen.
entriuwen niht, ich sol imz sagen.'
(ll.3374-3375, my italics)

Clearly, triuwe is at the heart of Ênîte's actions, and it dictates whether she speaks or, in fending off the lecherous count's advances, dissembles. Yet even when Ênîte reiterates to Êrec that she has again acted "durch triuwe" (l.3415), Êrec once more does not listen to what he hears and promptly saddles her with the care of the horses, an apt indication of his perception of her, as noted earlier.

At this point Hartmann interjects the sequence in which "ein knabe" (l.3491) is presented as an accurate perceiver (his phrases are studded with "mich dunket" [ll.3520, 3523, 3532]) who assesses the couple's situation at a glance (l.3510 ff.) and who speaks to Êrec concerning his mistreatment of Ênîte, only to receive a curt reply: "Knabe, daz sult ir lân" (l.3590). The boy is further cast in the role of a wisdom figure when he communicates his experience with Êrec and Ênîte to his lord, who, struck with Ênîte's beauty, begins to ruminate ("gedâhte … manecvalt wart sîn gedanc" [ll.3669, 3672]) until Hartmann announces:

der enwas dar an niht staete,
wan in vrou Minne betwanc
ûf einen valschen gedanc.
(ll.3717-3719)

Once again Êrec is shown to be unperceptive of the count's desire for and actions toward Ênîte ("dô enhete Êrec deheinen wân" [l.3727]), and he is virtually taciturn, snapping at the count concerning the fact that he and his wife are obviously dining apart: "herre, mîn gemüete stât alsô" (l.3745). Êrec here is not only a man of few words but also one whose utterances do not communicate anything that might be illuminating to a situation that puzzles another person. The count's ensuing discussion with Ênîte reflects the perception/language nexus we have been examining throughout this work. The count essentially misperceives Ênîte and, significantly, misperceives her in a way in which Êrec also misperceived her. He, like the Êrec who visited the impoverished household of Ênîte's parents, sees "armuot" (l.3765) and "lîp" (l.3759) to the exclusion of Ênîte's deeper nature, which encompasses triuwe. The count is a flatterer who speaks the truth concerning Ênîte, although he is not aware that he does ("und ist daz ir sô wîse sît" [l.3782]). Ênîte is indeed wise enough to realize that what the count cannot gain by "rede" (l.3837), he will take by force, and, since her devotion is to Êrec rather than to foolish consistency, she wisely shifts her tactics and contrives a "list" (l.3842) whereby she can extricate herself and her spouse from the dangerous situation. Her following speech to the count thus becomes a marvelous combination of lies and truth that bears close examination.

Ênîte begins with a disclaimer that is oddly reminiscent of her father's words to Êrec when the knight asked the aged man for his daughter's hand. Koralus, it will be recalled, perceives Êrec's request as a "spot" (l.532), a "schimph" (ll.546, 559) and a "wân" (l.558). Ênîte virtually echoes her father as she addresses the count:

si sprach: 'ich waene iu ernest ist.
herre, enzürnet ir niht:
wan iu der rede unnôt geschiht.
ez was zewâre mîn wân,
ir hetet die rede durch schimph getân.
wan ez ist iuwer manne site
daz ir uns armiu wîp dâ mite
vil gerne trieget
(ich entar gesprechen: lieget),
daz ir uns vil ze guote
geheizet wider iuwerm muote.'
(ll.3843-3853)

She later assures him: "ich wânte diu rede waere iuwer spot" (l.3891), thus further echoing her father. The linkage between Koralus' reactions and his daughter's dissembling speech is further heightened in the fact that Koralus is discussing, after all, Êrec's winning of Ênîte, which is the very subject Ênîte raises with the count:

'vil rehte wil ich iu bejehen
wie mich von êrste mîn man
im ze wîbe gewan.
ichn bin im nîht genôzsam:
mînem vater er mich nam,
wan der ist waerlîche
edel unde rîche.
in des hof er dicke reit.
nâch kinde gewonheit
lief ich dâ hin unde her.
eines tages spilte er
mit uns. dô schein wol daz kint
lîhte ze triegenne sint,
mit liste er mich vürs tor gewan.'
(ll.3865-3878)

Her lie is all the more successful because it contains several truths: children are easily duped; Êrec did ride into Ênîte's parents' house; Ênîte's father is noble and is now, through the efforts of Êrec, "rich." Yet Ênîte, described earlier as a child (ll.309, 331), is hardly a "tor" (l.3878) but rather in the later and ironic assessment of Oringles, a "wunderlîchez wîp" (l.6160) who, through acute perception and wise thought, can transform bad situations into good ones. She accomplishes this end here through the giving of a double-edged counsel to the count, so that he concludes, "iuwer rât der ist guot" (l.3937) but the reader knows that it is this advice which will save her husband.

It is not enough for Hartmann to note that "vrouwe Ênîte was ein getriuwez wîp" (l.3943) who acts "durch triuwe und durch güete" (l.3961); he reports another of her interior monologues in which she debates the same issue, language and silence, but here couched in terms of "lîp" (l.3986) or "tôt" (ll.3983, 3992). The issue of choice ("kiesen" [l.3992]) surfaces, but "triuwe" (l.3993) decides the issue, and her silence is broken. Swift flight saves Êrec and Ênîte, leaving an enraged count to argue over language, silence, and information with their host, reported in one of Hartmann's characteristically peppery exchanges of one-liners. Here, too, Hartmann draws, in the count's subsequent lament, an ironic parallel to Êrec, who has already been noted to have similarities to the count in his essential misperception of Ênite. The The count cries out:

… 'mir enwas êre
niht ze teile getân,
daz ich sus verlorn hân
daz schoeniste wîp durch gemach
die mîn ouge ie gesach,
vremde oder kunde.
vervluochet sî diu stunde
daz ich hînaht entslief.'
(ll.4087-4094)

He appends to this assessment, which applies equally well to Êrec, a statement of thematic importance, a statement of a principle of which he and Êrec are both instances:

'swer sîne sache
wendet gar ze gemache,
als ich hînaht hân getân
dem sol êre abe gân
unde schande sîn bereit
wer gewan ie vrumen âne arbeit?
mir ist geschehen vil rehte.'
(ll.4096-4102)

The count's attitude of regret nevertheless conceals truth important for an understanding of the romance—gemach does lead to danger—but there is no evidence that he profits from the wisdom of his words, for he is shortly thereafter depicted by Hartmann as misassessing Êrec's relationship to Ênîte, largely because he believed Ênîte's trumped-up tale (ll.4172 ff.). At this point the reader notes in Êrec's reaction to the count's speech a correct evaluation of the content of the words: "ir habet gelogen" (l.4203). And this is not the first instance of a changing attitude toward perception, assessment, and language on Êrec's part, for Hartmann allows Êrec to have his first accurate consideration of a matter in a long time. One would think that it is belaboring the obvious to have Êrec understand, "er weste wol, man rite im nâch" (l.4119), but it is a clear indication that Êrec is coming to see consequences of actions and to prepare for contingencies.

Êrec's progress is not without lapses, as Hartmann demonstrates when he allows Êrec to be aware that he will be pursued and yet unaware of the actual approach of his pursuers (ll.4139 ff.), with the result that Ênîte once more gives voice to her perceptions immediately after Êrec has forbidden her to do so. There is no reported dialogue interchange as she breaks her word in the scene, and even Êrec's delayed reproach is not given in recorded speech (ll.4258-4267). But Êrec is clearly on the road to wisdom, for after Ênîte warns him of his next assailant's approach, Hartmann states: "dô wart im aber ir triuwe erkant" (l.4319). Finally Êrec starts to regain his former perceptual acuity; he hears Guivreiz's "wort" (l.4325) and realizes that, much as he would like to avoid it, there is going to be a fight (ll.4378-4379). It is during this fight that Ênîte's cry is succeeded by Êrec's correction ("vrouwe, iuch triuget iuwer wân" [l.4429]) and his rapid defeat of Guivreiz, labeled "der wenige man" (l.4436). The overcoming of the dwarf subtly hearkens back toward Êrec's poor treatment by Îder's dwarf but also looks ahead to a renewed, more open Êrec. Êrec and Guivreiz exchange names, and Êrec becomes positively talkative in response to Guivreiz's requests for information, although he does not react favorably toward Guivreiz's suggestions concerning his need for medical attention (ll.4616 ff.), a reaction which will have grave consequences in the not so immediate future.

Êrec's wounds afford yet another opportunity for Hartmann to present situations in which perception and language are seen as the cornerstones upon which right action is laid. One recalls that Keiî, "der quâtspreche" (l.4664), comes upon Êrec, assesses his situation, and announces, "ich sihe wol, ir sît sêre wunt" (l.4629). Keiî is, pure and simple, a good perceiver, and it is no coincidence that he will later recognize Êrec by his voice (ll.4854-4857) and that he, unlike Êrec, is familiar with the physical terrain through which he rides ("der künec Artûs mîn herre enliget hie niht verre" [ll.4629]). Keiî may be perceptive, but his downfall comes in the transfer between his perceptions and his thoughts on his perceptions, and, accordingly, his words and deeds will be flawed:

alsô daz er vor valsche was
lûter sam ein Spiegelglas
und daz er sich huote
mit werken und mit muote,
daz er immer missetaete.
des was er unstaete,
wan dar nâch kam im der tac
daz er deheiner triuwen enphlac.
sô enwolde in niht genüegen
swaz er valsches gevüegen
mit allem vlîze kunde

mit werken und mit munde:
daz riet elliu sîn ger.
(ll.4642-4654, my italics)

Keiî's mistake comes, then, when he uses language unwisely ("herre, lât die rede sîn" [l.4679]) and attempts to act, by trying physically to bring Êrec to court. Êrec soon reduces Keiî, "der quâtspreche," to "ein sac under dem rosse" (ll.4730-4731) and later elicits from him useful information concerning Keiî's point of origin and the circumstances surrounding Keiî's borrowing of Gâwein's horse. Êrec refuses to give Keiî his name, however, but Keiî deduces ("kiesen" [l.4856]) Êrec's identity from his voice. There remains yet another point to be considered in this Keiî episode, for Keiî, who announces to Êrec that he is "unwise" (l.4827) concerning his opponent's name, is still seen to have the admirable quality of wisely telling what he knows, of detailing his encounter with Êrec, even though he must be aware that it will only reflect detrimentally on him:

Keiîn hin ze hove reit
und twanc in des sîn wârheit
daz ers doch niht verdagete
wan daz er rehte sagete
sîn schemelîchez maere,
wiez im ergangen waere …
(ll.4836-4841)

Finally, Keiî's brush with Êrec results in the greater good that Gâwein is able to effect, through his recognition ("erkande" [l.4908]), consideration ("gedâhte" [l.4935]), and true perception of Êrec's situation (ll.4984-4985). Like Ênîte, Gâwein must resort to a "list" (l.4998), arrived at after thought ("erdâht" [l.4998]), in order to insure Êrec's physical safety and ease. Êrec himself expects nothing until he sees the peripatetic court, which maneuvers with ease in a landscape in which he is continually disoriented:

ouch erkande er si wol,
wan er si dicke hete gesehen.
(ll.5041-5042)

His immediate reaction to Gâwein is an echo of his reproaches to Ênîte's counsel:

'ir enhabet niht wol an mir getân.
her Gâwein, diz ist iuwer rât.
nû hân ich iuwer missetât
selten alsô vil vernomen.
daz ich dâ her bin komen,
das was mir vil ungedâht.
ir habet mich übele her brâht.'
(ll.5045-5051)

Yet Gâwein has acted in Êrec's best interests, as had Ênîte, so the issue becomes one of whether Êrec can know what is good or bad for himself. In this sense Gâwein and, to a far greater extent, Ênîte function as a type of cerebral warning system for Êrec, who is primarily depicted as a man of action. As wisdom figures, Gâwein and Ênîte provide the admonition, moderation, and correction which the often rash Êrec requires, and it is these two characters who must endure Êrec's "zorn" (l.3049 for Ênîte; l.5068 for Gâwein) and who must nevertheless speak words that he may not wish to hear:

'waz mac ich nû gesprechen mê?
wan sol ich iuch beswaeret hân,
daz hân ich doch durch guot getân.'
(ll.5077-5079)

Old habits die slowly for Êrec, as Hartmann depicts him, so that Êrec takes two steps down the road to wisdom, only to retreat one step. Having been tricked by Gâwein, even though it is for his own good, Êrec lapses into taciturnity in his overnight visit at Arthur's court. While Ênîte is reported to be verbal with Ginovêr:

dâ wart vil wîpliche
von in beiden geklaget,
vil gevrâget und gesaget …
(ll.5107-5109)

Êrec exchanges no dialogue with those who "entwâfenten in" (l.5122) and is portrayed as being perceived ("vil schiere kam diu künegîn in klagen unde schouwen" [ll.5129-5130]) rather than as being a perceiver.

Êrec is, however, shown to be thinking ("dô hügete er wider ûf die vart" [l.5249]), and his insistence on departure, thought by the court to be a mistake ("diz dûhte si alle missetân" [l.5273]) proves to be fortunate, since, despite the fact that he does not know where he is going (emphasized in ll.5288-5290), his path leads him to where he is most needed and where he can exercise his atrophied perceptual skills. Thus, Hartmann allows Êrec to perceive before Ênîte: it is Êrec who "hôrte … eine stimme" (l.5297) and who queries the grief-stricken maiden (ll.5339 ff.); and it is Êrec who sets about to free a man who is as silent, although for different reasons, as Êrec was at a certain point in the past:

er was geslagen unz ûf daz zil
daz er des bluotes was ersigen
unde nû sô gar geswigen
daz in schrîens verdrôz.
(ll.5417-5420)

Hartmann's intent is to show how Êrec's verbal skills are being honed throughout this âventiure to save the tortured knight, so that our protagonist is demonstrated to be wise in the manner in which he manipulates language. He speaks before he acts, first requesting information (ll.5436 ff.) and then resorting to verbal deception ("dannoch redete er mit listen" [l.5458]) with the giants who assess him, quite wrongly, to be "tump" (l.5448). Moreover, in order to indicate the giants' relative lack of wisdom, Hartmann gives to them an aspect of disregard for language that hearkens directly back to Îder's dwarf's retort to Êrec, when he barked: "lâ dîn klaffen sîn" (l.83). Here one giant significantly attempts to silence Êrec with the statement: "dîn klaffen ist mir ungemach" (l.5477). Furthermore, the fact that this entire exchange is to reflect in some way Êrec's path to wisdom is stressed in Hartmann's giving the reader an oblique glimpse into Êrec's motivations; he must act to save the knight even though such action involves raising the giants' ire ("zorn" [l.5493]). Like Ênîte and like Gâwein, he must risk zorn if he is to accomplish anything that is for the greater good. Having defeated the giants—and it should be recalled that the Êrec in the earlier part of the romance had a bad enough time of it with dwarfs—Êrec further demonstrates his perceptual abilities by locating the wounded knight, whose horse had stayed with him during the previous fracas, despite the fact that Hartmann intones:

… niemen kunde gesagen
wâ er im ze vindenne wart.
(ll.5573-5575)

A positive transformation is brought about as Êrec restores the wounded man to his lover ("sus wart ir herze ein lûter glas" [l.5623]), and Êrec speaks at length with the pair concerning their and his identities, gives advice ("diz ist mîn rât" [l.5676]), and caps his performance by moving confidently through the once confusing landscape in order to rejoin Ênîte.

It is not merely the unusual physical effort that exhausts Êrec, for his verbal exertions have also been exceptional. Now "der halptôte man" (l.5730) lapses into silence, and it is no coincidence that Ênîte becomes again most vocal:

von jamer huop diu guote
ein klage vil barmeclîche,
herzeriuwecîche.
ir wuof gap alsolhen schal
daz ir der wait widerhal.
(ll.5743-5747)

Such is the shifting balance between the characters of Ênîte and Êrec that Ênite now reproaches God for his "zorn" (l.5779) and calls him to task for giving her such a bad example of his consideration of her ("wie swachez bilde" [l.5783]). In the final analysis, Êrec's "Scheintod" will have instructive benefits, but Ênîte now is in the position Êrec was when he was made party to his wife's assessment of his situation: something is happening, but the person to whom it is happening cannot, for lack of perception or foresight, see its ultimate good consequences, so clouded are the perceptions by the present pain.

Ênîte is so prostrated by grief that she proposes the solution of being devoured by animals. Here Hartmann's skill is such that he couches even this possibility in terms of wisdom and perception. Ênîte calls upon "ir tier vil ungewizzen" (l.5844) and then suggests that they would be "wîse" (l.5850) to feed upon her and her spouse. Yet the romance's landscape, earlier portrayed as teeming with dangerous creatures, both human and otherwise, cannot produce an animal who sniffs the bait Ênîte so readily offers ("daz dehein tier ez vernaeme" [l.5858]). Clearly, there are times when even lack of perception, like verbal deception, is wise, if greater good is to be attained. Moreover, Ênîte may lapse too, as she does here, and the greater wisdom of God will hold life-threatening dangers in abeyance while Ênîte calls upon God and, later, Death, whom she accuses of providing bad examples (l.5917), as she earlier did God, and of giving bad advice (l.5924). Her verbal recklessness increases to the point that she assesses herself incorrectly regarding the speech act toward Êrec that resulted in the current situation:

'ich tete als die tôren tuont,
unwîses muotes … '
(ll.5965-5966)

Hartmann's point is not that Ênîte was a fool, but rather that here she is not able to perceive herself wisely and that here she falls victim to the problem that afflicts Êrec: lack of foresight. She cannot see any benefits down the weary road she travels, and neither, in fact, can Êrec until that path leads him to Mâbonagrîn's castle, at which point Êrec is given an example of his own former situation in terms that he cannot help but understand. Then he can state confidently:

'ich weste wol, der Saelden wec
gienge 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'
(ll.8521-8528)

Êrec's path leads him to strife in the "boumgarte" (l.8700), and it is strikingly appropriate that the next topic upon which Ênîte focuses in her protracted lament is her "bilde" (l.6031) of the fruit tree in the "boumgarten" (l.6017). Ênîte interweaves her "boumgarten" exemplum with thoughts of her own childhood, so that she first thinks of her parents:

'ouwê liebiu muoter
unde vater guoter!
nû ist iu ze dirre stunt
mîn grôzer kumber vil unkunt.'
(ll.5974-5977)

She then develops the transplanted tree idea and finally announces:

'des sol man bilde kiesen
an mir vil gotes armen.'
(ll.6031-6032)

The reader must ask what it is about that orchard that one must perceive, so that Êrec must go to it in the form of Mâbonagrîn's challenge and Ênîte must refer to it in her exemplum. In a very fundamental sense Êrec's ultimate âventiure will involve Mâbonagrîn precisely because Mâbonagrîn, like Êrec, took to wife "ein kint" (l.9476) with a remarkable physical personage (ll.9469 ff.), a woman who used language to work changes upon her husband, although in a fashion diametrically opposed to the manner in which Ênîte uses language to effect positive changes. Thus, in Ênîte's lament over her supposedly dead husband one finds a compelling reversion to the circumstances surrounding her betrothal to Êrec. She states that her parents do not know now the circumstances in which she finds herself, and what she implies is that she did not know then in what circumstances she was to fall. Thus, in marrying, it is not only Êrec who does not know the full nature of his bride (Ênîte as wise) but also Ênîte who does not know the full nature of her husband (Êrec as a man who will lapse and then become wise).

But in order to bring Êrec to the point that he can undergo the crucial "Joy of the Court" adventure, Hartmann must first detail the essential waking of Êrec's consciousness, and he does so in a sequence that gathers its shape from the use and abuse of language. One recalls that Ênîte's voice, "vil lûte schrîende" (l.6084), resounds through the land so that the Count of Limors hears it ("gehôrte" [l.6140]); "ir stimme vernam" (l.6142) and prevents Ênîte from acting upon her "wort" (l.6110) to commit suicide. That the count is in some way to mirror Êrec's previous predilections becomes apparent in his first words to Ênîte, where he addresses her, as did the imperceptive, mocking Êrec, as "wunderlîchez wîp" (l.6160). He goes on to characterize her as "daz schoeniste bilde" (l.6164) that exists, and the reader suddenly apprehends that this is the crux of the matter: Ênîte's first impression is that of an exterior without an interior, so that thoughts and speech she might have come as a surprise. She is, moreover, a "bilde" in the sense that she becomes an image for those who see in her what they themselves are; if lustful and occupied with the flesh, they perceive her primarily in terms of lust and the flesh. And finally, looking back to Ênîte's own "bilde" (l.6031) of the tree, one may state that men do not see her in the sense of an instructive example; she is a "bilde" in the sense that characters can learn from her wisdom. She is beauty, to be sure, but beauty, as St. Augustine noted, must be used and not abused. Thus, Ênîte's cry,

'des sol man bilde kiesen
an mir vil gotes armen.'
(ll.6031-6032)

proves to be a thematically loaded statement: Ênîte simply is, and the essential issue is how she is perceived.

That the count of Limors misperceives Ênîte is emphasized throughout. Hartmann characterizes him as a man who hears only the advice he wants to hear from his advisers, in other words that he marry Ênîte (ll.6205 ff.), and one who promises unnecessary transformations from "armuot" (l.6262) to richness, which Ênîte, being already rich, does not need. Moreover, perception is again viewed as bound up with language, so that most of the count's energies are occupied in silencing Ênîte and much of her time is spent lamenting; the one who will ultimately triumph is seen as verbal, while the one who is held by even his retainers to be "toerlîch" (l.6532) is seen urging silence (ll.6420, 6458), accusing her of folly ("tumbez klagen" [l.6491]); "iuwer tumpheit" (l.6505), and delivering a blow, out of foolish anger ("sîn zorn in verleite ze grôzer tôrheite" [ll.6518-6519]), to Ênîte on the appropriate—and only—part of her body that offends him: "an den munt" (l.6579). The count of Limors, like Êrec, not only wishes to silence the reproachful voice which he hears but also essentially misperceives the owner of that voice, for he rationalizes Ênîte's lament as coming from "ein kint" (l.6451). Children, on Hartmann's account in Êrec, cannot be expected to be verbally accountable for themselves; they are easy to trick, and, implicitly, they are to be seen rather than heard. If Ênîte is to be perceived as a child, then these are the kinds of mistakes that will be continually made about her. And the physical punishment that the enraged count of Limors metes out to her is virtually the chastisement due a child, received with horror even by his retainers. One must note here yet another ironic parallel between the count and the lapsed Êrec with respect to courtiers' reactions, in the count's angry speech to those who verbally question his treatment of Ênîte:

'ir herren, ir sît wunderlich,
daz ir dar umbe strâfet mich
swaz ich mînem wîbe tuo.
dâ bestât doch niemen zuo
ze redenne übel noch guot,
swaz ein man sînem wîbe tuot.
si ist mîn und bin ich ir:
wie welt ir daz erwern mir,
ich entuo ir swaz mir gevalle.'
(ll.6540-6549)

In essence, Oringles feels that no one has the right to question what goes on between a man and his wife, and this mirrors Êrec's own stance as he angrily reacts to his own court's assessment of his preoccupation with Ênîte. Judging by Êrec's learning process over the course of the romance, such an attitude toward one's wife signals that the count is about to be re-educated.

The education process for the count of Limors begins with Êrec's hearing Ênîte's cry and ends with swift death from Êrec, who now knows fully how to transform his perceptions into right action. Curiously, Ênîte's final outburst, which is her penultimate recorded speech (the ultimate is ll.6946 ff., where she again aids Erec's physical well-being), makes reference again to the ambiguous term lîp, but she employs it in a manner different from that of the lapsed Êrec or the count of Limors. She shrieks:

' … wê mir vil armen wîbe!
waere mîn geselle bî lîbe,
diz bliuwen waere vil unvertragen.'
(ll.6584-6586)

Lîp, for Ênîte, is more than a beautiful or handsome form; it is life. And in Êrec's hearing these precise words, Hartmann draws the audience's memory back to the scene in which Êrec was physically bî lîbe, in the sense that he was lying in his wife's arms, but could not appreciate her words of wisdom. Ênîte's words both catapult him into the series of adventures and help extricate him, just as Ênîte's wise guidance will accompany him on the path he does not recognize (l.6737). Hartmann's comment on a physical event is an apt assessment of a spiritual process: "wan si in den wec lêrte" (l.6746).

The change in Êrec is most apparent in sheer perceptual response. He hears Guivreiz's approach, alerts Ênîte and is even prepared to wrestle an opponent if need be (l.6884); but Ênîte's wise intervention halts conflict. Moreover, Êrec begins to be a more considerate man, in the sense that he thinks more and in the sense that he treats others more favorably, as is evident in his speech with the newly recognized Guivreiz. One recalls that Guivreiz regrets having wounded Êrec, and Êrec replies with words that demonstrate the extent of the lesson he has learned:

Êrec sprach: 'des sult ir gedagen
und ûz iuwer ahte lân.
ir enhabet an mir niht missetân.
swelh man toerlîche tuot,
wirts im gelônet, daz ist guot.
sît daz ich tumber man
ie von tumpheit muot gewan
sô grôzer unmâze
daz ich vremder strâze
eine wolde walten
unde vor behalten
sô manegem guoten knehte,
dô tâtet ir mir rehte.'
(ll.7007-7019)

In effect, Êrec has learned to look at himself through others' eyes and has, in the process, absorbed something about the nature of wisdom.

Having learned, Êrec must now teach, and Mâbonagrîn, who represents an unregenerate Êrec, is the pupil on whom Êrec can test his wisdom. That Mâbonagrîn is a formidable opponent can be determined by Guivreiz's reluctance to talk about the nature of the "Joy of the Court" challenge as well as by his subsequent advice not to accept the challenge the affair offers. To understand Guivreiz's counsel we must assess him in light of two other wisdom figures who employ speech either to prevent or to correct mistakes. Imâîn, Gâwein, and Guivreiz all serve in both capacities in offering counsel to Êrec, who does not avail himself of their advice. Îmâîn and Gâwein see situations which can be rectified (Ênîte's shoddy dress and Êrec's weakened physical condition, respectively) in order to prevent further unpleasant situations from developing. Guivreiz counsels Êrec to avoid confrontation with Mâbonagrîn (ll.8479, 8510, 8582); but here Êrec is wise to ignore Guivreiz's "rât," since fighting Mâbonagrîn will rectify a bad situation. The difference between the interpretations of Êrec's constant refusals to abide by Îmâîn's, Gâwein's, and Guivreiz's counsel lies in the fact that Erec is wrong to refuse Îmâîn's and Gâwein's prudent advice and is right to spurn Guivreiz's suggestion. Îmâîn and Gâwein rightly perceive and assess situations, and Êrec's refusal to take their advice is shortly thereafter rectified by an action of the Arthurian court: if Êrec will not take advice to clothe his wife properly, then the queen will have to do it; and if Êrec will not come to the court to rest, then the court will simply have to pack up its Round Table (ll.5019) and come to him. Guivreiz, however, is not described as a good perceiver; one recalls that Hartmann notes concerning Guivreiz's assessment of his opponent Êrec:

der herre gedâthe: 'er ist verzaget,
sît er sîne arbeit klaget.'
(ll.43664367)

By virtue of the fact that Êrec "klaget," Guivreiz comes to a false conclusion, that his opponent is "verzaget," and it may be that some lingering vestige of this assessment explains Guivreiz's reluctance to speak (l.8390) of the matter of the "Joy of the Court"; Hartmann seems to imply this in his description of Êrec as "ein unverzageter man" (l.8425) who listens to Guivreiz's "rat" (l.8412) and sensibly disregards it. Guivreiz, who earlier held his guest to be "einen zagen" (l.4420) and was summarily defeated, once again misperceives Êrec's abilities. The example of Guivreiz is, nevertheless, instructive for Êrec—and for the reader—because it economically shows the process on which Hartmann focuses at length in Êrec's and Ênîte's relationship: the linkage of perception to knowledge, knowledge to speech, and speech to action. At each stage in the movement from perception to action, there is a possibility of a breakdown in the form either of a cessation or of an incorrect move. Where Guivreiz errs is on the essential level of perception. In perceiving Êrec as a coward he makes a mistake. Because Guivreiz's first perception is inaccurate, he rashly challenges Êrec, who protests, "ich enhabe iu niht getân" (l.4361). Guivreiz is trounced, but Hartmann goes on to show his audience that Guivreiz may argue differently the second time around but will make essentially the same mistake in his assessment of Êrec's chances against Mâbonagrîn. Since Guivreiz's assessment is inaccurate, his counsel is faulty. Moreover, he must be urged to speak and tell what he knows to Êrec, who urges:

'nû war umbe tuot ir daz
daz ir sô lange mich verdaget
daz ir mirs niht ein ende saget?'
(ll.7991-7993)

Here one finds an Êrec eager for knowledge and desirous of speech, an Êrec who digests and thinks about what information he finally wrings from Guivreiz (ll.8121, 8147, 8294, 8350, 8400), and an Êrec who is not, as Mâbonagrîn assesses him to be, a "tumber gouch" (l.9044) who acts "toerlîch" (l.9030). Thus, Êrec at the end of the romance stands in direct contrast to his mentor, Guivreiz; Êrec is seen to act "als die wîsen tuont" (l.8633), and Hartmann shows this to consist not only of his accurate perceptions and physical actions but also of his receptivity to language and thought, while Guivreiz is seen at the romance's end to be physically inactive, verbally reluctant, and perceptually inaccurate.

In disregarding Guivreiz's counsel, Êrec enters into battle with an opponent who possesses faults he once had and into a situation that allows him to demonstrate his new-found wisdom. Accordingly, before the battle one finds Êrec actively questioning (ll.8368, 8446), thinking (ll.8294 ff., 8350 ff.), and, yes, exhibiting prudent temerity (ll.8619 ff., 8633 ff.) that stands in contrast to his former rashness. Moreover, he waxes loquacious in his comforting speech to Ênîte (ll.8839-8873) in which he voices his dependence upon her (especially ll.8864-8867). During the battle his perceptions are heightened and his thoughts return again and again to Ênîte (ll.9183, 9230); the reader sees that the man who could previously not think of adventure because he was so occupied with his wife has been transformed into a man who is now able to have adventures while being mindful of his wife. Finally, after the battle, the reader hears the man who formerly preferred to be "von den liuten" (l.2950) telling Mâbonagrîn how nice it is to be in society: "wan bî den liuten ist sô guot" (l.9438).

There remains the question, though, of how much Mâbonagrîn has learned from Êrec, who has obviously learned considerably. A reckless, albeit triumphant note creeps into Mâbonagrîn's speech when he cries: "nû var ich ûz und swar ich wil" (l.9589). This is as precise a reflection of Êrec's own earlier actions as one can imagine, for did not Êrec leave his court with a similar compulsion and lack of specific direction? The key to understanding Mâbonagrîn's intent may lie in his wife's assessment of their physical situation as "daz ander paradîse" (l.9542). The Fall of Man, which entails the theme of knowledge, accompanies the exodus from Paradise, and Paradise can only be attained again through the redemptive acts of the second Adam, Christ. Having sinned, man must work to repent from sin and must be aided in this task. One finds in Êrec resonances of this process, so that the sense remains that Mâbonagrîn, who rashly gave his word and then was shocked at what his wife said, may have to travel the same difficult road by which Êrec has come to "daz ander paradîse" (l.9542). Optimism remains, however, for the reader has seen Êrec make that journey, with setbacks and disappointments, until Hartmann can finally say of him: "er tete sam die wîsen tuont" (l.10085). The inner transformation is further reflected in the fact that Êrec, who is repeatedly noted by the narrator to be in unfamiliar territory or even disoriented, suddenly has no difficulty in getting home to Karnant. Once Êrec knows who he is, that is, part of an entity with Ênîte, he knows where he is. In this manner, each adventure serves as a type of signpost on Êrec's road, so that as the adventures' shared features impress themselves on his consciousness, Êrec orients himself with respect to proper perception, thought, speech, and action.