[In the following excerpt, McConnell explores the proposed sacrifice of a virgin in Der arme Heinrich and posits that reference to such a pagan ritual skews interpretations that consider Heinrich to be strictly Christian in outlook.]

On the surface, Hartmann von Aue's tale of the sinner, Der arme Heinrich, appears to be a fairly straightforward example of a miracle legend, a tale heavily imbued with religious didacticism, a message, perhaps, to the German nobility of 1195 concerning the efficacy of God's grace extended towards a repentant sinner. It is a tale of contrasts: Heinrich, the protagonist, is depicted as a knight endowed with all of the virtues a representative of his caste could desire. He is of high Swabian lineage, a man who enjoys the utmost respect among his peers, a paragon of knightly excellence who, we are told, lacked nothing but who also did not exceed the bounds of moderation: "im enwart über noch gebrast." At the pinnacle of worldly success he is struck down by leprosy, echoing the theme of memento mori: "mêdiâ vîtâ/in morte sûmus" (vv. 92-93). No explanation is given at this point for Heinrich's affliction. There follows simply a sermon-like compendium of contrasts, the narrator emphasizing the transitoriness of this world, that happiness often turns to sorrow, that we are all quite vulnerable beings. It is not until verse 120 that we learn of the direct connection between God and Heinrich's ailment. His leprosy is to be understood as a type of punishment. In verses 113 and 115 we have been informed that those who live in worldly splendor are not viewed kindly by God. The critics have felt obliged to provide these verses with an interpretative addendum: it is not the fact that one enjoys the pleasures of this world that is damnable, but rather that one does so without constantly remaining aware of the source of such riches. While these verses would seem to contain something of the message of Cluny-inspired asceticism, the conclusion of the work, which finds Heinrich enjoying even greater splendor than he had done before his affliction, points less to self-denial than to world affirmation. Heinrich's superbia, then, has its origins in his lack of spiritual consciousness, in his tendency to take things for granted, in his failure to observe the ordo of existence, that God is the beginning and end of all things. It remains for him to pass through the stages of contritio, confessio and satisfactio, a type of initiation process, in order to emerge at the conclusion of the work as an individual cognizant of God's grace and benevolence, of the fact that he owes everything to the Almighty. The lesson seems simple: the world's pleasures, its material riches and benefits, may be both accepted and appreciated, provided that one remains aware at all times of their ultimate source.

Problems arise, however, when we examine the plot in detail. While the author saw fit to compare Heinrich's fate to that of Job, the manner in which Heinrich finally attains salvation has little indeed to do with that of his Biblical counterpart. Superimposed upon the story of the sinner is the narration of the obligatory blood-sacrifice. Had Hartmann wished merely to demonstrate the "way" of the sinner to genuine realization of his culpability, to eventual repentance and subsequent salvation through the grace of God, it might well be queried why this tale of blood sacrifice had to be included. The way of contritio, confessio and satisfactio requires no such ritual. It is, then, the question of sacrificium in Der arme Heinrich which deserves further attention, for a closer examination of this aspect of the work may allow us to view Hartmann's intentions from a considerably different perspective than that normally presented.

Heinrich is informed by a number of people (as implied through verses 165 to 168) that his disease can be cured. No indication is provided at this point as to how that might come about, but the information serves to raise Heinrich's spirits. Obviously encouraged by the advice of laymen, he journeys to Montpellier where the doctors maintain that he is incurable. Not satisfied with this answer, he proceeds to the capital of the medical world in the Middle Ages, Salerno. Here he is informed by the best physician he can find that he could indeed be cured, but that he will remain afflicted. Two points of information provided by the doctor are of particular significance for our study: 1. Heinrich cannot be restored to good health unless God wishes to serve as his physician (vv. 203-204); 2. he can be cured if he can find a maiden who, of her own free will, will agree to sacrifice her heart's blood for him (vv. 230-232). It is impossible to underestimate the significance of these statements for the work as a whole, for they demonstrate the dichotomy between Christian theology and pre-Christian ritual that prevails throughout much of the rest of the tale. The advice given by the physician is … quite contrary to the traditions of Salerno and the medical expertise to be found there. There can scarcely be any reconciliation between views of such radically different nature. Heinrich, at least, should find the suggestion revolting and certainly contrary to his religious beliefs. Instead, we are told that he recognizes the impossibility of finding someone who would willingly die for him and loses hope that he may ever be cured. This is, of course, tantamount to saying that he subscribes to this non-Christian solution, even though he may consider its practical implementation to be impossible. Furthermore, at no point in Der arme Heinrich does the protagonist really refute his faith in the viability of this ritual, despite the fact that he does, at one point, express some doubt as to its effectiveness. All that transpires from this point on up to the "sacrifice scene" in the doctor's chamber occurs against the backdrop of the ritual and the belief in its effectiveness, provided the necessary conditions can be met. All of the figures in the work share this belief. Neither Heinrich, nor anyone else, asserts that such a "solution" is intolerable, as well as unbelievable, at best an old-fashioned superstition, at worst a flagrant denial of a basic Christian principle. The fact that there is no refutation of the ritual of blood-sacrifice suggests that Hartmann did not necessarily accord it great importance in theological-ethical terms.

Heinrich secludes himself at the home of one of his peasants after having been ostracized by his peers and the rest of society. His host eventually inquires into the possibility of a cure for the disease, expressing wonder that his lord was unable to find a satisfactory solution in Salerno. Heinrich's confession that he has been justifiably punished by God for his transgression, namely, not having accorded God his due (v. 392), loses much of its effectiveness as a true indication of repentance due to the manner in which he wallows in self-pity. He relates what the master physician had told him about the necessity for a sacrifice, and bemoans the unlikelihood that he will ever find such a girl. No mention is made of God's intervention which was, however, the first possibility stated by the doctor in Salerno. Once again, there is no reflection, by either person, on the significance of the proposed "solution." Heinrich's failure to distinguish between theology and superstition (or, possibly, pagan ritual) may be attributable to his egocentric attitude, his inclination to consider anything which may alleviate his condition, but it does not explain why the peasant has nothing to say about a suggestion which must, at the very least, be blasphemous, even to one accustomed to hearing rather than interpreting Christian dogma.

Closer examination of the attitude of the peasant family towards the proposed ritual demonstrates the extent to which belief in the efficacy of this rite has pervaded the work and its figures. The reaction of the peasant and his wife to their daughter's suggestion that she sacrifice herself for Heinrich is essentially what one would expect of parents. They rebuke her for having no idea of what death is all about, for talking like a child, but we note that there is not the slightest indication that they in any way repudiate the effectiveness of the "solution." It is, furthermore, because they do believe that Heinrich can be cured by her death that they eventually accept their daughter's arguments in favor of her sacrifice. The subsequent events in Salerno are predicated on the belief of all of the participants that this is a viable solution. The maiden will save Heinrich and, consequently, preserve the comparatively pleasant life-style of her family. She will simultaneously attain the Holy Kingdom and thus freedom from the cares and temptations of this world. Her renunciation of the latter and her enthusiasm to attain the next world are, in fact, so adamant, so laden with allusions to her union with Christ, that her parents ascribe her "wisdom" to the intervention of the Holy Ghost:

si begunden ahten under in
daz die wîsheit und den sin
niemer erzeigen kunde
dehein zunge in kindes munde
si jâhen daz der heilic geist
der rede waere ir volleist, (vv. 859-864)

They are convinced that God has imbued her with the spirit to talk in this fashion (v. 874). This is, of course, simply what they believe, but once again the reader feels obliged to query how even simple peasants can actually fail to see the discrepancy between Christian theology and pre-Christian ritual, how they could possibly believe that the Holy Ghost would condone ritual sacrifice of the sort advocated here. After all, Christ's sacrifice itself was meant as a one-time gesture, signifying the absolution from sin, and occasioned by the absolute caritas of God's son. To be sure, the peasants are indeed simple, and certainly not given to theological speculation, but the dichotomy between Christianity and heathen ritual is here so blatantly obvious that one could expect them at least to notice it. It is also astonishing that for one so anxious to attain the pinnacle of Christian experience, the maiden is so obvious to the travesty against the Christian ordo which she is about to commit. Contrary to what the narrator states in verse 903 ("Des vreute sich diu reine maget"), the "purity" of the girl, at least from a theological point of view, is quite problematical. The initial hesitation on Heinrich's part to accept the girl's offer of self-sacrifice is rooted in his doubt that she, as a child, would possess the stamina to go through with her proposal, not in any moral or religious considerations. His acceptance of her offer serves to underscore the fact that Heinrich is still very much guilty of superbia. By setting out for Salerno with the maiden, Heinrich demonstrates at least tacit belief in the efficacy of the pre-Christian ritual.

The physician's preparations for the sacrificial act have some of the characteristics of a cult ritual. The girl is to be disrobed, bound to a table, her heart cut out and the blood used to cure Heinrich. The act itself is to take place in a chamber, hidden from Heinrich's view. Precisely how the blood is to be used (sprinkled upon the flesh or, more likely, drunk) is not stated and is, for our purposes, irrelevant. The significance of the blood is that it is held to possess the power to heal or rejuvenate. Once again, it is remarkable to find God referred to in conjunction with the ceremony. The maiden, fearing that the physician may lose heart and refrain from performing the act, encourages him to proceed so that Heinrich may be healed and she herself may gain the crown of heaven: "getrûwet ir mînem herren/sînen gesunt wider geben/und mir daz êwige leben,/durch got daz tuot enzît" (vv. 1152-1155).

Of particular note are verses 1209 and 1210 in which we are informed that the physician picked up "ein scharphez mezzer daz dâ lac,/des er ze selhen dingen phlac." I do not believe this can be understood simply as an allusion to the "normal" function of the knife in a surgical sense. Hartmann may have intended to use the phrase "selhen dingen" in an ambiguous manner, and it is certainly possible to interpret it, within the present context, as an indication of the doctor's (priest's?) familiarity with the ritual, a sign to Hartmann's readers that this is an experienced cult figure, one of the initiated, who has performed similar "sacrifices" in the past.

Heinrich's intervention to prevent the death of the maiden is regarded as a manifestation of his growing awareness of his place within the ordo, a result of sincere reflection upon his own sins, and as an example of his own caritas, demonstrated toward the girl. This does not mean, however, that he has become entirely convinced that her sacrifice would indeed prove fruitless, despite the fact that in verses 1252 and 1253 he expresses some doubt as to the possible outcome: "und ouch dar zuo niene weist/ ob dich des kindes tôt ernert." Furthermore, any interpretation of Heinrich's intervention on the maiden's behalf as a sacrifice of his own, motivated by caritas, must be predicated on the idea that Heinrich did believe he was turning his back on a possible solution to his predicament. Critics who view Heinrich's action from this perspective are Hartmann's best audience, for they have allowed themselves, as undoubtedly his contemporaries did, to be "captured" by the narrative.

At this point of deep reflection, as Heinrich acquires a refreshingly new attitude towards himself and his relation to God, it cannot help but surprise us that he evinces no real thoughts on the matter of human sacrifice itself. As he leaves Salerno with the maid, the belief that her sacrifice would be a viable means of healing his affliction has not been refuted. The doctor has certainly had no change of heart with regard to the effectiveness of his proposed measures; there is no sign of conversion (away from such a superstition), nor is there a proclamation of any sort to the effect that this act was quite contrary to the religious tenets of the crime.

I have hitherto stressed what I consider to be the clear dichotomy in Der arme Heinrich between (pagan) superstition and ritual sacrifice on the one hand and Christian dogma or faith on the other. The two are, from a theological point of view, incompatible. There have been attempts, however, to reconcile the two poles, most notably by H. B. Willson, in an article entitled, "Ordo and the Portrayal of the Maid in Der arme Heinrich," [Germanic Review, 44 (1969)] Willson compares the maid's will to sacrifice herself with the sacrifice endured by Christ, a comparison I find to be quite unwarranted. The analogy appears to be based on a misinterpretation of John XV, 13 ("Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends"), as well as the girl's actions or the motivation which lies behind her desire to die. Willson queries: "Has she not caritas, the virtue which is supreme in the Christian ethical code? Is she not willing to lay down her life for another?".… It is by no means clear that caritas remains the primary motivating force behind the maiden's actions up to the point of sacrifice. There is, in fact, considerable evidence to demonstrate that her own salvation ranks foremost in her mind (note, in particular, verses 681-812, and also 1290ff.). Even if this were not the case, her alleged caritas would be overshadowed by her superbia in believing that she, not God, holds the key to Heinrich's deliverance from leprosy. This would be tantamount to viewing the disease merely as a physical malady when it is … also an allegorization of Heinrich's spiritual failing. The analogy between Christ and the maiden proposed by Willson is unfounded and the fact that he himself recognizes the latter's superbia makes his comparison all the more problematical. Willson claims that "in spite of the analogy between her proposed sacrifice and that of Christ, she cannot be placed on the same level as the latter." I would attribute more significance to this statement than Professor Willson himself may be inclined to do. It is precisely because the maiden can never be placed on the same level as Christ that the proposed sacrifice loses any validity one might accord it as an analogy to Christ's passio. The death of Christ precludes any further sacrifice by a human for the sins of his fellow man.…

The motif of blood-sacrifice is out of place in a work purported to convey a theological message, unless the motif is totally refuted within the tale, which is not the case in Der arme Heinrich. It is also unacceptable from a medical point of view, and runs counter to all of the traditions associated with Salerno.… Everything which transpires within the physician's chamber in Salerno contradicts the basic concepts of medieval medical practice and the tenets of the Hippocratic Oath. We are dealing here not with Christian reality, but rather with pre-Christian, pre-scientific superstition.

The motif of blood-sacrifice is well documented in the Middle Ages. It can be found in the Sylvester legend, wherein Kaiser Constantine must decide whether or not to allow the sacrifice of a child in order that his health may be restored, and in the Queste del Saint Graal, in which the sister of Perceval sacrifices herself by opening her veins for the sake of her royal mistress who is afflicted with leprosy. The healing and rejuvenating power of blood is an old belief and is mentioned by Pliny; it is also referred to in Exodus and Leviticus. I would suggest that Hartmann made use of it within his tale because of its potential for the narrative, as an effective means of stimulating the interest of his readers, not because it had any significance from a theological or medical perspective. What theological implications one may wish to associate with the motif are purely secondary. Der arme Heinrich is simply not, in the first instance, a theological work. It is written … according to the needs of the narrative, and is not intended as a conveyor of inherent "ideas," as a depiction of a purification procedure for Heinrich. The tale is based on the concept of fictional fallacy, and its effectiveness rests on the ability of the reader to accept the idea of blood-sacrifice as a viable means of restoring Heinrich to health. The legitimacy of such means is never at issue.

To maintain that Der arme Heinrich is primarily non-theological in nature, a tale basically world-oriented rather than an example of theological didacticism, is to ascribe less importance to the gradualistic rehabilitation of the chief protagonist within the tripartite Lombardian framework of contritio, confessio, and satisfactio than is normally the case. An over-emphasis of the theological aspects of the work leaves too many loose ends of no minor significance. In his preface to Pygmalion, George Bernard Shaw remarked that "great art can never be anything else" but didactic; and there is, to be sure, a lesson included within Der arme Heinrich, but it would be a mistake to regard all of the components of the work as indispensable to its formulation. The narrative may be regarded profitably within its own context; it is, in fact, its own justification. That the clear dichotomy between Christianity and pre-Christian superstition in Der arme Heinrich is never resolved may make the work unacceptable as a theological tract, but it in no way impairs the effectiveness of its narrative. The contrary is, in fact, the case.