Page [139], line 121—'Asbestos.' Cf. Book IX. p. 281.
Page [139], line 138—'Kaukasus.' It is rather curious to find Sekundillé associated with Kaukasus, as we are elsewhere told that she was queen of Tribalibot, i.e. India. In Book X. p. 11 we are told that she had golden mountains in her kingdom, which may have suggested the connection.
Page [140], line 155—'And the other, the precious jewels,' etc. It has already been remarked (Note to Book IX.) that the attribution of strengthening virtue to precious stones, and the prominence given to them throughout the poem, is a special feature of the Parzival. In the next book we meet with a remarkable instance of this peculiarity.
Page [140], line 161—'Kardeiss and Lohengrin.' This is the first intimation we have of the existence of Parzival's sons; from Kondrie's speech on p. [159], he seems himself to have been unaware of their birth. We hear of Parzival sending the knights conquered by him to yield themselves captives to Kondwiramur (Book VII. p. 220 and Book VIII. p. 243), and she, therefore, would be in some degree aware of her husband's movements during the five years of separation; but we have no indication of his having received any message from her; and from the wandering life he led during these years (cf. Introduction to Book IX.), and the fact that he had no squire in attendance who could act as go-between, it seems most probable that Parzival heard nothing of his wife throughout the entire time—a fact which makes his fidelity to her even more striking. Kardeiss was doubtless named after his mother's brother, whose death is referred to in Book VI. p. 167. Lohengrin, or as the name stands in the original, with an additional syllable, Loherangrin, has been derived from Lothringen, the German form Lorraine. If so, this may indicate the source of the story of the Swan-knight, which did not, of course, originally belong to the Grail legend.
Page [140], line 170—'Pelrapär!' seq. It is very curious that though Wolfram emphasizes the fact (p. [139]) that Parzival had regained his faith in God, yet it is not this faith which stands him in good stead in the hour of his greatest peril; neither is it his devotion to the Grail; but it is his loyal love for, and fidelity to, his wife that proves his salvation. If the aim of the poem were, as some critics contend, a purely religious one, then we should surely find that at the crucial moment of the hero's career religion, and not Love, would be the saving power. As it is, Parzival's words to Gawain, Book VI. p. 188, are abundantly borne out, and it is his wife, and no heavenly power, that acts as Guardian Angel. (The lines 170-71 are not of course to be taken literally, 'o'er kingdoms four' is used in other old German poems as equivalent for 'a great distance.' It is not to be supposed that Kondwiramur was in any sense, even mystically, aware of her husband's danger, though doubtless it is the conviction that her love for him is as steadfast as his for her that strengthens his arm.) Throughout this conflict between the two brothers it is love, in the twelfth century form of Minne-Dienst, which is regarded as the animating power on either side; though the fact that they are respectively Christian and heathen is insisted on by the poet, yet we do not find the conflict regarded as a struggle between the two religions, nor any sign given of the superiority of the God of the Christian to the heathen deities, in fact the same Divine Power is invoked to shield them both (p. [139]). It certainly seems here as if the knightly interpretation had, in a great measure, overborne the ethical. That there was an ethical signification attached to the episode seems evident, not only from the fact that this conflict with Feirefis, whose peculiar parti-coloured appearance recalls so strongly the contrast between Doubt and Faith, drawn in the Introduction, is the last stage in Parzival's long expiation; but also from the fact of the breaking of Ither of Gaheviess' sword, of which special mention is made in lines 173 and seq. The poet evidently intends us to regard this as a token that Parzival's youthful sins have been atoned for, and there seems little doubt that the incident was introduced here for that purpose. That the sword here broken was originally the Grail sword, and that the change was made by Wolfram from the difficulty of reconciling that fact with previous statements (cf. Book IX. p. 252), as Simrock suggests, is most improbable, there would have been no reason for the Grail Sword breaking in this rather than in any other combat (accepting Chrêtien's statement that the sword would break only in one peril; it had withstood considerably more than one blow), quite the contrary, as here Parzival is practically the Grail champion; but there is a deep significance in this shattering of the last token of the headstrong folly of his youth. It seems most probable that Wolfram found this incident in his source; and that the original meaning of the combat was to depict the last desperate struggle of the soul with Doubt, wherein by steadfast resistance (absolute conquest is not at once to be looked for) the sins of the past are wiped out, and the soul becomes finally worthy of reward.
Page [141], line 195—'Thro' fear shall I tell my name?' Cf. Note to Book XIV. The courteous and knightly bearing of Feirefis, both here and on p. [142], should be noted. In everything but faith he is quite the equal of his Christian brother; indeed it must be admitted that, compared with either Feirefis or Gawain, Parzival gives the impression of being a much less courtly and polished figure. His character seems stamped throughout with a rugged simplicity and directness, quite in keeping with what we are told of his wild and lonely youth. It is noticeable, too, how very little, comparatively speaking, Parzival says; though all the speeches put into his mouth have an earnestness and depth of feeling which we do not find in the much more frequent utterances of Gawain. Wolfram's tolerant treatment of heathen, generally, has often been a subject of remark by critics; and, with regard to Feirefis, the number of allusions to him which the Willehalm contains lead one to the conclusion that this character, in particular, was a favourite with the poet.
Page [141], line 202—'How shall "Angevin" be thy title?' The reader will probably by this time have noticed that, King of Anjou as Parzival is, he is never called an Angevin, but is invariably referred to as a 'Waleis,' his mother's country. It is his mother's kingdoms of which he has been deprived (cf. Book III. pp. 73, 80, 87), and this is really the first indication we have that he knows himself to be also lord of Anjou. Gamuret is alluded to, and gives his name as, Gamuret Angevin; Feirefis, is always Feirefis Angevin; but Parzival, the hero of the story and the real glory of his house, is not an Angevin but a 'Waleis.' This shows clearly that the Angevin element formed no part of the original Perceval legend, but that it has been grafted on to a previously existing Celtic basis.
Page [141], line 205—'Béalzenan.' Cf. Book V. p. 147 and Note.
Page [142], line 230—'As written parchment.' Ekuba did not say this in Wolfram's version, cf. Book VI. p. 186, possibly the simile was in the French source and has been dropped out. It is a curious idea to occur to a man who, like Wolfram, could not write; and it is also a curious speech to put into the mouth of one who, like Parzival, had been brought up in the desert, and deprived of the ordinary training due to his rank.
Page [143], line 241—'Blest be Juno,' etc. This ascription of Latin gods and goddesses to all the non-Christian races was not unusual in the Middle Ages; Apollo was the god most commonly thus transferred. It is rather curious though to find the mistake made in a poem so obviously tinged by Oriental influences as the Parzival. Wolfram, too, seems to have known that the Saracens had other gods, in Willehalm he names as such Apollo, Mahmet, and Tervigant.