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January Conference 1996

THE RECEPTION OF CLASSICAL TEXTS AND IMAGES

The Destructive Potential of Anger:
An ancient theme given new life in Heinrich von Veldeke’s Eneasroman

Carol Magner, Kings College, University of London

Heinrich von Veldeke’s Eneasroman is a reworking of Virgil’s Aeneid, although his immediate source seems to have been the anonymous Old French Roman d’Eneas and there is some evidence for the influence of the works of Ovid.[1] Little is known of Veldeke beyond what can be gleaned from his works and from passing references to him in later writers, but it is assumed that he had a clerical education. The epilogue to the Eneasroman states that the work was completed at the behest of Hermann, Count Palatine of Saxony, after being lost whilst on loan to the Countess of Cleves.[2] It therefore appears that the Eneasroman was roughly four-fifths complete by 1174, when it was lost, and was finally completed by 1190.[3] The Roman d’Eneas is thought to have been written around 1160 and may have been associated with the Anglo-Norman court of Henry II of England and his queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine.[4]

To the medieval authors, Aeneas was not only the pater pius of Rome but also the legendary ancestor of peoples such as the Franks and the Britons.[5] However, Virgil’s story presented a challenge to contemporary Christian values with its many references to the pagan gods and the prominent roles assigned to fate and fortune. The pagan content of classical texts had been recognised as a problem by early Christians, but even such authorities as Tertullian and Jerome were able to see some value in their study and Jerome considered Virgil essential reading for boys.[6] By the twelfth century, Virgil’s works were part of the staple diet of all educated men.[7]

It would be impossible in the time available today to do justice to the theme of anger throughout each of the three works. I shall therefore concentrate on events which take place after Aeneas’s arrival in Italy and on the characters of Turnus and Amata, both of whom appear for the first time in Book 7 of the Aeneid and are characterised by Virgil with ira and furor.

Aeneas’s marriage and the Trojan settlement of Italy, declaring: ‘flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo‘ (‘If I cannot change the will of Heaven, I shall release Hell'[8]). At her bidding, the Fury Allecto infects first Amata, then Turnus with her deadly poison.

In the Latin palace, Amata is already distraught: ‘quam super adventu Teucrum Turnique hymenaeis / femineae ardentem curaeque iraeque coquebant‘ (‘she was already in a feverish turmoil with a woman’s thoughts of anxiety at the arrival of the Trojans and rage at the wedding planned for Turnus'[9]). Virgil describes vividly how Allecto casts a snake into Amata’s bosom, although initially the queen is not completely overcome.[10] However, in the face of intransigence from Latinus, Amata sinks into a frenzy: ‘infelix ingentibus excita monstris / immensam sine more furit lymphata per urbem‘ (‘the unhappy lady gave way; goaded by the horrible magic, blindly she ran in a reckless frenzy about the city'[11]). In one of Virgil’s most famous similes, she is compared to a spinning top driven on by boys at play[12] and fulfils her part in Juno’s plan by inflaming other Latin mothers to emulate her behaviour and by giving encouragement to Turnus. However, she sees her fate as inextricably linked to his[13] and, in a last act of furor, hangs herself, wrongly believing Turnus to be dead.[14]

Neither of the medieval authors actually names the Latin queen – presumably they considered the name Amata (‘beloved’) totally inappropriate. However, both give the character a more prominent role. One of the most noticeable differences between the Roman d’Eneas and the Aeneid is the prominence given to the love between Eneas and Lavinia. Virgil barely mentions Lavinia and the only person described as being in love with her is Turnus. In the Old French story, Lavinia’s mother fulfils two important roles: she is able to explain to Lavinia what love is, but she is also a focus for opposition to Lavinia’s love for Aeneas.

In the Roman d’Eneas, the queen is initially seen to be angry about the proposed marriage of Aeneas and Lavinia, but without any of the fury and recklessness associated with the Virgilian Amata: ‘la raïne l’a dessentu, / dolante et correçose an fu‘ (‘the queen disapproved of it, and was sorrowful and angry over it'[15]). When Latinus rejects her arguments, she rushes back to her room wearing an ugly expression, shaking and trembling with anger.[16] However, this is the only time that the queen’s emotional state is described. After sending a message to Turnus, inciting him to fight the Trojans, her final appearances are to talk to Lavinia about love, singing the praises of Turnus. When Lavinia finally confesses her love for Eneas, the queen declares this to be foolish and details the Trojan’s supposed homosexual leanings, but there is no hint of Virgilian fury. When Lavinia faints, the queen simply leaves the room and is not seen again.[17]

Veldeke’s queen is, by contrast with the French, consistently marked by a furious anger which clearly threatens social norms, very much reminiscent of the recklessness of Virgil’s Amata. Her first appearance is typical:

mit zorne âne minne

gienk si vor den kunich stân

und wart vil ubele getân.

ir zuhte sie vergaz,

unsanfte sie nider saz,

daz si dem kunege niht enneich. [18]

She appeared in a hostile rage before the king, looking very grim. She forgot her good manners, sitting down roughly without bowing to the king.

Veldeke emphasizes that she speaks in anger, and she herself confesses to being furious. Latinus, however, points out the futility of the queen’s response:

ir zornet zunmâzen,

ez is ein ungefûge zorn:

ir habet mêr der mite verlorn

denne ir habet gewunnen.[20]

You are taking your anger too far, your anger is out of place, you have lost more thereby than you have gained.

Whereas in the Roman d’Eneas, the queen leaves the room and then has a long monologue before sending a message to Turnus, in the Eneasroman it is Latinus who storms off in anger,[21] leaving the queen to write a letter. Later, Turnus and the queen meet to seal their alliance against the Trojans. Veldeke expands on the love theme to an even greater extent than his French predecessor and puts the character of the queen into much sharper relief. When Veldeke’s queen instructs Lavinia about love, she is more impatient than her Old French counterpart. After Lavinia initially hesitates to commit herself to loving anyone, Veldeke’s queen issues a dire warning against falling in love with Eneas, going as far as to threaten her own daughter with death, before leaving in fury.[22] When Lavinia later confesses her love for Eneas, she characterizes her mother’s reaction as anger[23] and, typically, the queen leaves in a state of fury.[24] The pièce de résistance, however, occurs at the end of the story when Veldeke, going much further than his French predecessor, stages a last meeting between mother and daughter after Turnus has been killed. Having heard the news, the queen is utterly distraught:

si was nâch ûz ir sinne

komen dorch den grôzen zorn:

ir witze het si nâch verlorn,

si wart vil ubile getân. [25]

She had very nearly become demented from her great fury, almost losing her senses, and looking very ill.

The queen continues to address Lavinia in a state of great madness and anger,[26] whereupon Lavinia urges her not to die of rage, since this would bring no honour.[27] However, it is to no avail, since the queen succumbs totally to her rage and dies apparently alone and unlamented.

It is noticeable that the queen’s fate mirrors exactly that of Arachne, whose tale is told during the scene in which Eneas receives his armour. Arachne does not feature at all in Virgil’s Aeneid: her story, together with that of the quarrel between Venus and Vulcan, was introduced by the Old French author, perhaps inspired by Ovid.[28] In the Roman d’Eneas, Venus provides Eneas with a pennant woven by the goddess Pallas Athena in a contest with Arachne, and we learn that Arachne was subsequently changed by the goddess into a spider.[29]

Veldeke makes significant alterations to this short episode, highlighting the parallel between the queen and Arachne. In his version, Arachne simply turns into a spider spontaneously, ‘dorch rouwe und dorch zoren‘ (‘out of grief and anger'[30]), before she has even lost the contest. Whereas the French author points out that, to this day, the spider is condemned to spinning and weaving continually, Veldeke states that all her kind are destined to die as a result of their spinning and weaving.[31] In the Eneasroman, the queen’s death is marked by exactly the same grief and anger as Arachne’s: just as Arachne cannot bear to concede supremacy, the queen cannot bear to see Eneas and Lavinia crowned. Both deaths are described in terms which make them seem needless and futile.

The case of Turnus is more complicated. Virgil’s Turnus is next after Amata on Allecto’s list of victims. Although Lavinia has been promised to him, and he is described as the most handsome and worthy of her suitors, he is initially dismissive when Allecto appears to him in disguise in a dream. Incensed by Turnus’s rational response, Allecto picks out not one but two snakes from her hair and plunges her torch into his breast. In marked contrast to his rational evaluation of the facts during the dream, the waking Turnus is consumed by fury:

arma amens fremit, arma toro tectisque requirit:

saevit amor ferri et scelerata insania belli,

ira super. [32]

Out of his wits, he roared for weapons and hunted for them by his bedside and all through the house. In him there rioted the bloodthirsty lust of the blade, the accursed lunacy of war, and, above all, anger.

This fury characterizes him throughout the Aeneid, and occasions some very vivid similes. He is compared first to a cauldron boiling over, and subsequently, at the siege of the Trojan camp, to a raging wolf lying in wait outside an impenetrable sheepfold.[33] Since the wolf was sacred to Mars because it reared his sons Romulus and Remus, its repeated association with Turnus binds him both to anger and to war.[34] However, Turnus’s fury is a barrier to success. When he learns that Bitias and Pandarus have thrown open the gates of the Trojan camp, he is ‘immani concitus ira‘ (‘impelled by a giant’s fury'[35]) and, having slain Bitias, pursues Pandarus into the camp. Pandarus’s action in shutting the gates is characterized as folly, since Turnus is enclosed within ‘immanem veluti pecora inter inertia tigrim‘ (‘like a monstrous tiger among helpless cattle'[36]), but furor and mad blood lust distract Turnus from opening the gates, which would have ended the war in his favour there and then.[37] Even in adversity, Turnus remains furious and, when the Trojans rally and force him back, he is seething with rage, like a savage lion, forced into retreat against its will by a band of hunters.[38]

Turnus is again compared to a lion as he leaps to attack Pallas,[39] an episode which shows him in a most unattractive light, and even after the death of Camilla, which is clearly a serious setback for his cause, he is sparring for a fight like a bull, characterized by rage and lust for battle.[40]

The comparison with a bull is repeated at the very end, when Turnus meets his match and he and Aeneas fight like two bulls.[41] However, immediately prior to this, there is a marked contrast in the attitudes of Aeneas and Turnus when fighting breaks out in spite of the agreement to suspend hostilities in favour of single combat. Aeneas seems to represent the forces of law and order, calling for restraint,[42] whereas Turnus rushes into the fray and is compared to Mars himself, with black Dread, Wrath, and Treachery personified as his retinue.[43]

Even when he receives the news of the queen’s death and the fact that the city is in flames, Virgil’s Turnus is still tormented by passion for revenge.[44] His last words to his sister Juturna before rushing off to single combat with Aeneas are completely in character: ‘hunc, oro, sine me furere ante furorem‘ (‘But first, I entreat you, let me do this one mad deed before I die'[45]). He is only overcome by Aeneas after Jupiter has intervened. At this point it is Aeneas who, seeing Pallas’s baldric, is overcome by anger and slays Turnus, thus ending the Aeneid on an intriguingly ambivalent note.

By contrast, the medieval French author presents Turnus in a much colder light: the rage and fury of Virgil’s Turnus are absent. When he first receives Amata’s messenger, the French Turnus already knows of Eneas’s arrival but not of Latinus’s intention to give Eneas his daughter and the kingdom. Three points emerge from Turnus’s initial reaction. Firstly, it is clear that he regards the Trojans as unworthy of the honour which Latinus is offering them and he is confident that they cannot maintain their claim.[46] Secondly, he perceives that Latinus is old and weak and will not be able to deny him. Thirdly, he has been legally given both the girl and the land and the agreement cannot be unilaterally rescinded.[47] Turnus indicates his intention to defend what is his, but he lacks a pretext to attack Eneas, although ‘Molt ert dolanz s’il ne se venge‘ (‘He will be most sorrowful if he does not avenge himself'[48]).

The killing of the tame stag and the sack of Tirus’s home give Turnus the pretext he desires. His confrontation with Latinus confirms the points made in his earlier speech, his final words being ‘Ou bien te poist ou bel te soit, / saches que ge tendrai mon droit‘ (‘Know, then, that whether you like it or not, I will hold to my right'[49]). Latinus is the one who is angry at this point[50] – the Latin king abrogates his responsibility and leaves his land and his daughter to whichever of the two prevails. There is no sign of emotion in Turnus, he simply tells the barons that he intends to reclaim what was agreed and teach the Trojans a lesson. Turnus’s grievance is presented as a matter of honour and a matter of law.

Turnus is equally unemotional in action. When he can find no weakness in the Trojan defences, he simply takes his revenge on the Trojan ships.[51] Returning to the siege of the Trojan fortifications, the French author picks up Virgil’s comparison of Turnus to a wolf, but with some significant changes.[52] The most striking aspect is the absence of the wolf’s fury. The French author focuses instead on the futility of the wolf’s enterprise. This is made explicit by the narrator’s comment in the immediately following lines that Turnus himself will lose his life if he does not leave the Trojans in peace.

Although Turnus’s actions are frequently characterized as revenge, as when he kills Helenor,[53] there is no suggestion of any accompanying passion. Consequently, there is no suggestion that the French Turnus misses an opportunity for victory. When Pandarus and Bitias open the gates of the Trojan fortifications and Turnus is trapped inside, he is lucky to escape with his life.[54]

There are only two occasions on which the French Turnus becomes angry. The first is after killing Pallas, when he pursues an archer on board ship, only to be mysteriously cast adrift.[55] The author makes it clear, however, that Turnus is frustrated by his inability to come to the aid of his troops.[56] The second occasion for Turnus’s anger comes after hearing Drances address Latinus. Drances puts forward the notion that Turnus is motivated purely by self-interest and is prepared to see thousands die in order to get his own way. At this, Turnus leaps to his feet, burning with anger and ill will.[57] Drances has already declared himself to be no friend of Turnus and it is clear that the latter is stung by the taunts of a man whom he considers a coward. It is the closest that the French Turnus comes to his Virgilian forebear in passion and, in both cases, the motive is preservation of his personal reputation.

Otherwise, he maintains throughout the stance of a man attempting to uphold his rights and nobly concedes defeat at the end. Just as, in the Aeneid, Aeneas finally displays the rage formerly associated with his adversary, in the Roman d’Eneas, Eneas executes the final act of revenge on behalf of Pallas.[58] However, the French author does not end his story there – he takes us as far as the wedding of Eneas and Lavinia and gives a brief glimpse of the future, as far as Romulus and Remus and the founding of Rome. The effect of this is to neutralize some of the ambivalence surrounding the death of Turnus, since the work now ends on a more positive note.

Veldeke’s Turnus is similar to his Old French counterpart in that he wishes to uphold his honour and rights. However, Veldeke devotes more than three times as many lines to Turnus’s response to the initial news and anger plays a more prominent part.[59] The legal character of the prior pact between Turnus and Latinus is underlined by the fact that the German Turnus has hostages.[60] It is also clear from the outset that, for the German Turnus, it is a contest to the death: he has no intention of surrendering his rights alive, preferring death to loss of honour Eneas must leave or die, the Trojans suffering disgrace, unless Turnus himself dies.[61] It is also noticeable that Veldeke’s Turnus loses no time in summoning his allies.

The initial impression, therefore, is that the German Turnus is more impassioned than his French counterpart and is in a stronger legal position to insist on his rights. In line with this, Veldeke’s Latinus comes out much more strongly in favour of Eneas, pointing out that Eneas himself was not present when the trouble started and had offered reparations.[62] Not only is Eneas thus presented in a very reasonable light, but the battle lines between Turnus and Latinus are far more sharply drawn, so that Turnus’s state of mind is clear from the outset:

dô was dem hêren vil zoren

Turnô und vil ungemach,

daz Latînûs dise rede sprach.

her clagetez sînen mannen

und gienk mit zorne dannen

unde mit unminne

hin ze der kuniginne.[63]

It enraged Lord Turnus and disturbed him that Latinus should take this attitude. He complained to his
vassals, and in anger and hostility went to the queen.

It is significant that Turnus is described going to see the queen ‘in anger and hostility’, since she herself appeared before Latinus ‘in a hostile rage’. Anger and hostility seem to bind these two characters as much as their commonality of interest and it is striking that Veldeke invents the scene in which they meet in order to seal the bond. Their hostility towards the Trojans and the plans of Latinus is in stark contrast to the warmth of their feelings towards each other. The queen receives Turnus warmly, addressing him as ‘my dear son’, and when they part, it is on the best of terms.[64]

At the siege of Montalban, Veldeke makes no comparison of Turnus to a wolf. Nevertheless, he recalls his French predecessor by drawing attention to the futility of the enterprise. [65] He also makes it clear that Turnus is mistaken in his belief that the Trojans cannot hold out.[66] However, he preserves something of the spirit of Virgil by repeated reference to Turnus’s angry state of mind. When he can find no way to penetrate the Trojan earthworks ‘des hete Turnûs grôzen zoren. / des erbalch sich der wîgant‘ (‘Turnus was very annoyed at it; the warrior was furious'[67]). His subsequent decision to go ahead and storm the earthworks is a disaster. The narrator specifically comments that Turnus is acting improperly[68] and dwells on the ghastly spectacle of rotting corpses and scavenging birds for more than fifty lines. Turnus himself, however, seems more concerned about the setback he has suffered: ‘daz was Turnô vile zoren‘ (‘This was a great vexation for Turnus'[69]). The strong implication is that Veldeke’s Turnus is blinded by rage.

In fact, in the Eneasroman, anger seems to characterize Turnus’s instinctive reaction to almost everything: he orders the destruction of the Trojan ships in a fury, he is angry when his brother-in-law is killed and he is angry when he discovers that Pandarus and Bitias have wreaked havoc amongst his troops.[70] Like his French counterpart, the German Turnus is in danger of losing his life when he is trapped inside Montalban, but Veldeke’s Turnus is saved by God[71] and the huge cost in terms of human life is directly ascribed to the fact that right is not on Turnus’s side.[72] Veldeke’s Turnus is thus a man who does not re-evaluate his stance in the light of experience and, by inference, does not recognize God’s true intentions.

After his lucky escape, it is business as usual for Veldeke’s Turnus. His anger is inflamed first by Pallas, then by the archer who wounds him from a nearby ship.[73] However, unlike his French counterpart, the German Turnus is not moved to anger when the ship is cast adrift, but rather the tone is mournful and the narrator points out that it is a blessing in disguise, for Turnus would surely have been killed otherwise.[74] In mood, this passage seems closer to Virgil, though the German Turnus does not sink to quite the same depths of despair as his Virgilian forebear. It is also noticeable that Veldeke and Virgil both focus on the idea that Turnus’s death is hereby postponed.

When Veldeke’s Turnus returns to Latium, he is offended and furious to discover a truce in force.[75] As in the French version, he responds angrily to Drances, but he is also angry when Latinus attempts to dissuade him from continuing the war, and reacts angrily to a challenge from Neptanabus.[76] He maintains throughout that the matter can only be settled by death, even though Latinus suggests that he would be foolish to die for the sake of territorial gain and a woman.[77] Predictably, Veldeke’s Turnus begins the final contest against Eneas with grim fury[78] and, as the fight continues, he grows hot with anger,[79] but Eneas is, of course, destined to win, and, ironically, Turnus finds death a less attractive prospect when he finally confronts it.[80]

During the final battle in the Eneasroman, Turnus is described as having the spirit of a lion.[81] This description, repeated after his death,[82] may be simply intended to indicate bravery. However, it also links Turnus to the ill-fated Trojan warrior Nisus, who is similarly described[83] and also characterized by anger.[84] Veldeke here perhaps recalls Virgil’s repeated comparison of Turnus to a lion[85] (Virgil also compared Nisus to a lion), but it may also be that he recalls Boethius’s description, in his Consolation of Philosophy, of a man consumed by anger: ‘Irae intemperans fremit? Leonis animum gestare credatur‘ (‘A man of quick temper has only to roar to gain the reputation of a lion-heart’).[86]

Veldeke goes much further even than the French author to move the focus away from the death of Turnus. He devotes 28 lines to a panegyric of Turnus, concluding that Turnus would surely have won if fate had not decreed otherwise[87] This has the effect of detracting from Eneas’s achievements on the battlefield and focusing on the higher purpose. This is underlined by the much fuller description of the wedding preparations and feast and a vision of the future that encompasses the birth of Christ.

What can be concluded from all this? In Virgil’s Aeneid, Allecto unleashes furor, an evil and uncontrolled quality which can dominate and consume a human personality. However, neither Amata nor Turnus succumbs initially – they simply seem to be the sort of person upon whom furorcan work.[88] They are both seen to behave with a recklessness and fury which leads to their destruction.

There is also a certain symmetry between Books 1 and 7 of the Aeneid.[89] Juno’s summoning of Allecto in the latter balances her call in the former for Aeolus, king of the winds, to raise the fearsome storm which scatters Aeneas’s fleet before his arrival at Carthage. The furor which now grips Amata and Turnus seems to represent the human manifestation of the same hostile force that bedevils Aeneas from the very beginning, when he is said to be suffering because Juno was ruthless and could not forget her anger[90] . Amata and Turnus, as the advocates of war, stand in contrast to Latinus, whom Virgil portrays as a man of peace. After Allecto has completed her work, Latinus seems to be the only person in Latium not gripped by furor and is compared to an immovable rock in the sea[91] . However, when Latinus is unable to control events, Virgil seems to make the parallel with Book 1 explicit by having Latinus exclaim: ‘frangimur heu fatis […] ferimurque procella!‘ (‘Woe! We are shipwrecked by fate, we are driven before the storm!'[92]). At this point, Latinus retires to his palace and resigns the reins of government, leaving it to Juno to open the Gates of War.

In the Roman d’Eneas, there is little evidence of the recklessness and fury which characterize the Virgilian Amata and Turnus, whilst Latinus is characterized principally by weakness. The author seems to concentrate more on the necessary qualities of leadership and less on the inimical forces with which the leader may have to contend. The ability to endure weal and woe is revealed early on as one of the essential qualities for a leader seeking to establish himself abroad.[93] Amata and Turnus, however, are incapable of taking the weal with the woe – they feel compelled to react to the ‘woe’ in a hostile way – and are thus to be seen as antitypes to Eneas. Eneas’s speech to his men before setting out from Troy makes it clear that the alternative to taking the weal with the woe is revenge:

demande a toz comunaument

s’il se voldront o lui tenir

et bien et mal o lui sofrir,

ou s’en voldront retorner anz

vangier la mort de lor paranz. [94]

He asked them all in council if they wished to hold with him and to suffer both good and evil with him, or if they wished to return inside to avenge the death of their kinsmen.

Revenge here implies certain death,[95] and the fate of Amata and Turnus seems to confirm how, ultimately, a constant cycle of revenge is counterproductive.

Veldeke, on the other hand, seems to have been equally fascinated by the destructive power of anger and the pointlessness of revenge. It seems to be stretching the bounds of coincidence to suggest that Veldeke simply re-worked the Roman d’Eneas and re-invented anger as a major theme of the Aeneas story. He clearly drew on both the French romance and the Virgilian original for inspiration.[96]

In the Eneasroman, Turnus and the queen are linked by unminne, the very opposite of minne(‘love’) in all its shades of meaning. Thus, they are not only literally the opponents of minne, in the sense of the love between Eneas and Lavinia, they are also the opponents of minne in its judicial sense: they oppose the politics of appeasement. This point is well illustrated when Turnus first makes complaint before Latinus and swears he will not forgive Eneas, saying ‘ez wirt ime zunminnen‘ (‘he will meet his Waterloo'[97]). The queen and Turnus contrast not only with Eneas, as in the Roman d’Eneas, but also with Latinus, as in the Aeneid.

Veldeke, however, was even more anxious than his Old French predecessor to end on a positive note and to present a solution to the problem of anger. He could not, like Virgil, simply muse ‘tantaene animis caelestibus irae?‘ (‘It is hard to believe Gods in Heaven capable of such rancour'[98]), although he could subscribe to the Stoic doctrine implicit in Virgil’s text that the emotions could be conquered by reason: loss of rationality goes hand in hand with the surrender to anger on every occasion.

For Veldeke, minne itself is the solution. Ironically, it is the queen who explains to Lavinia the power of minne to appease anger.[99] It is perhaps for this reason that Veldeke elaborates on the ring which Eneas gave to Pallas, describing it as a token of loyalty, friendship, affection, and companionship.[100] When Eneas executes Turnus on seeing that he is wearing Pallas’s ring, Turnus is punished for misappropriating the symbol of minne. However, like the French author, Veldeke did not ultimately wish to dwell on death and the past. Instead, he looked to the future, to an age of minne, not only in the sense of love, but of accord. It is perhaps no coincidence that Veldeke was writing the Eneasroman at the time when the struggle between the emperor Frederick I Barbarossa, who is mentioned twice in the text, and his ‘super-vassal’ Henry the Lion reached its climax.[101] Veldeke looked forward to a time when the principles of the Roman Empire under Augustus, the conditions which enabled Christ to be born, the pax Romana, would be put into practice.


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Notes

[1] For general background and evidence regarding sources, see Kurt Ruh, Höfische Epik des deutschen Mittelalters, Grundlagen der Germanistik, 2nd edn, vol. 1 (Berlin: Schmidt, 1977), pp. 70-88; Gabriele Schieb, Henric van Veldeken: Heinrich von Veldeke, Sammlung Metzler: Realienbücher für Germanisten, Abteilung D: Literaturgeschichte (Stuttgart: Metzler, 1965), pp. 39-66; John R. Sinnema, Hendrik van Veldeke, Twayne’s World Authors Series: The Netherlands, 223 (New York: Twayne, 1972), pp. 67-69. [return to text]

[2] ll. 352,19-354,1. These and all subsequent line numbers from the Eneasroman are taken from the following edition: Heinrich von Veldeke: Eneasroman, Mittelhochdeutsch/Neuhochdeutsch nach dem Text von Ludwig Ettmüller ins Neuhochdeutsche übersetzt, mit einem Stellenkommentar und einem Nachwort von Dieter Kartschoke, Universal-Bibliothek, 8303 (Stuttgart: Reclam, 1986), hereinafter referred to as the Reclam edition. Whilst the authorship of this section of the epilogue has been doubted, the authenticity of the information it contains has not been seriously questioned – see Kartschoke’s note to this passage in the Reclam edition, p. 824. [return to text]

[3] For dating of the Eneasroman, see the references cited under footnote 1 above, including the chronology printed at the front of Sinnema’s book, and Schieb, pp.1-7. [return to text]

[4] For the dating of the Roman d’Eneas, see Raymond J. Cormier, One Heart One Mind: The Rebirth of Virgil’s Hero in Medieval French Romance, Romance Monographs, 3 (University of Mississippi: Romance Monographs, 1973), pp. 20-22. With regard to patronage, Cormier states that ‘the evidence points to a close association with the Anglo-Norman Court’ (p. 19). [return to text]

[5] The best-known text tracing the ancestry of British kings to Aeneas is probably Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae, easily accessible in translation as: Geoffrey of Monmouth: The History of the Kings of Britain, translated with an Introduction by Lewis Thorpe, Penguin Classics (London: Penguin Books, 1966). The potential importance of Aeneas as ancestor of the Franks for Veldeke and his contemporaries may be gauged by reference to the works of Gottfried of Viterbo. Writing in the 1180s, Gottfried traced Charlemagne’s descent from Troy on both the maternal and paternal sides and subsequently traced Charlemagne’s descendants down to the emperor Frederick I Barbarossa and his son, Henry VI. For more information, see Friedrich Hausmann, ‘Gottfried von Viterbo: Kapellan und Notar, Magister, Geschichtsschreiber und Dichter’, in Friedrich Barbarossa: Handlungsspielräume und Wirkungsweisen des staufischen Kaisers, ed. by Alfred Haverkamp, Vorträge und Forschungen, 40 (Sigmaringen: Thorbecke, 1992), pp. 603-21.; and Heinz Thomas, ‘Matière de Rome Matière de Bretagne: Zu den politischen Implikationen von Veldeke’s Eneide und Hartmann’s Erec‘, Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie, 108 (1989), 65-104. [return to text]

[6] See Harald Hagendahl, Latin Fathers and the Classics: A Study on the Apologists, Jerome and Other Christian Writers, Studia graeca et latina gothoburgensia, 6, also published as Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis, Göteborgs Universitets Årsskrift, vol. 64 (Göteborg: Elanders Boktryckeri Aktiebolag, 1958), p. 109. [return to text]

[7] See L. D. Reynolds and N. G. Wilson, Scribes and Scholars: A Guide to the Transmission of Greek and Latin Literature, 3rd edn (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), pp. 110-14. [return to text]

[8] l. 7.312. This and all subsequent line numbers from the Aeneid are taken from the following edition: The Aeneid of Virgil, edited with Introduction and Notes by R. D. Williams, 2 vols (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1972-73). Translations are based on the following: Virgil: The Aeneid, translated into English Prose with an Introduction by W. F. Jackson Knight, Penguin Classics (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1956; repr. 1974). [return to text]

[9] ll. 7.344-45. [return to text]

[10] l. 7.356. [return to text]

[11] ll. 7.376-77. [return to text]

[12] ll. 7.378-84. [return to text]

[13] ll. 12.61-62 [return to text].

[14] ll. 12. 595-603. [return to text]

[15] ll. 3281-82. This and all subsequent line numbers from the Roman d’Eneas are taken from the following edition: Eneas: Roman du XIIe siècle, édité par J.-J. Salverda de Grave, Les classiques français du Moyen Age, 44 and 62, 2 vols (Paris: Champion, 1985-1983). Translations are based on the following: Eneas: A Twelfth-Century Romance, translated with an Introduction and Notes by John A. Yunck, Records of Civilization: Sources and Studies, 93 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1974). [return to text]

[16] l. 3357. [return to text]

[17] ll. 8661-62. [return to text]

[18] ll. 120,38-121,3. Translations are based on the following: Rodney W. Fisher, Heinrich von Veldeke ‘Eneas’: A Comparison with the ‘Roman d’Eneas’ and a Translation into English, Australian and New Zealand Studies in German Language and Literature, 17 (Bern: Lang, 1992). [return to text]

[19] ll. 121,5 and 121,19. [return to text]

[20] ll. 124,4-7. See also l. 123,30: ‘war zû is der zoren gût?‘ (‘what good is your anger?’). [return to text]

[21]l. 125,25. [return to text]

[22] l. 266,15. [return to text]

[23] l. 283,36. [return to text]

[24] l. 284,31. [return to text]

[25] ll. 342,6-9. [return to text]

[26] ll. 342,30-31. [return to text]

[27] ll. 343,29-31. [return to text]

[28] See Kartschoke’s note to ll. 162,14ff. in the Reclam edition of Veldeke’s Eneasroman. [return to text]

[29] ll. 4523-42. [return to text]

[30] l. 162,29. [return to text]

[31] Roman d’Eneas ll. 4541-42, Eneasroman ll. 162,36-38. The spider as an image of self-destruction was to occur in other works in the Middle Ages. For example, Simund de Freine’sRoman de Philosophie (probably written in the late twelfth century the author was Canon of Hereford in the thirteenth century) uses the figure of the spider spinning thread for its web from its own belly, and all its labour is to catch a fly. The moral is that he who loves wealth drains his own heart and poisons his own soul. See Howard Rollin Patch, The Tradition of Boethius: A Study of His Importance in Medieval Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 1935), pp. 60-63. [return to text]

[32] ll. 7.460-62. [return to text]

[33] ll. 7.462-66 and ll. 9.59-66 respectively. [return to text]

[34] See ll. 9.565-66 and Williams’s note to the text at this point, vol. 2, p. 307. [return to text]

[35] l. 9.694. [return to text]

[36] l. 9.730. [return to text]

[37] ll. 9.757-61. See also Williams’s note to the text at this point, vol. 2, p. 317. [return to text]

[38] ll. 9.792-98. [return to text]

[39] ll. 10.454-56. [return to text]

[40] ll. 12.101-06. [return to text]

[41] ll. 12.715-24. [return to text]

[42] l. 12.314. [return to text]

[43] ll. 12.331-36. [return to text]

[44] l. 12.668. [return to text]

[45] l. 12.680. [return to text]

[46] ll. 3471-72: ‘puis que conquis sont une foiz, / si se reposent, ce est droiz‘ (‘Since they were conquered once, it is only right that they remain at peace’). [return to text]

[47] l. 3480: ‘droit li estuet que il me face‘ (‘he will have to do me justice’). [return to text]

[48] l. 3495. [return to text]

[49] ll. 3867-68. [return to text]

[50] l. 3870. [return to text]

[51] l. 4889. [return to text]

[52] ll. 5370-90. [return to text]

[53] l. 5422. [return to text]

[54] ll. 5573-84. [return to text]

[55] l. 5800: ‘tel duel a, par po n’anrage‘ (‘he was so sorrowful that he was almost mad’). [return to text]

[56] l. 5842: ‘Il ot grant duel et molt grant ire‘ (‘he is most sorrowful and angry’) on arriving at his father’s city, because it will be at least three days before he can come to his people’s aid. [return to text]

[57] l. 6708. [return to text]

[58] ll. 9809-10. [return to text]

[59] ll. 126,11 and 127,7. [return to text]

[60] l. 127,18. [return to text]

[61] ll. 127,7-129,33. [return to text]

[62] ll. 139,33-140,3. [return to text]

[63] ll. 140,32-38. [return to text]

[64] ll. 140,40, 141,33, and 142,12 respectively. [return to text]

[65] After Turnus has taken counsel with his newly assembled army commanders, the narrator says of Montalban: ‘si was im doch vil ungereit: / des gewan her michel arbeit‘ (‘it was quite beyond him. He was to suffer many setbacks on account of it’), ll. 155,25-26. [return to text]

[66] ll. 156,2-5. [return to text]

[67] ll. 177,18-19. [return to text]

[68] l. 177,25. [return to text]

[69] l. 178,38. [return to text]

[70] ll. 179,7, 194,1, and 195,37 respectively. [return to text]

[71] l. 197,14. [return to text]

[72] ‘want daz unreht was sîn, / daz wart im dicke wole schîn‘ (‘for he was in the wrong, as was clearly demonstrated to him on many occasions’), ll. 198,11-12. [return to text]

[73] ll. 205,13 and 208,8 respectively. [return to text]

[74] ll. 210,35-36. [return to text]

[75] l. 228,3. [return to text]

[76] ll. 232,33, 258,10, and 317,1 respectively. [return to text]

[77] ll. 256,36-257,8 and 258,16-18, and 258,6-8 respectively. [return to text]

[78] l. 325,4. [return to text]

[79] l. 327,3. [return to text]

[80] ll. 330,27-30. [return to text]

[81] l. 328,10. [return to text]

[82] l. 332,12 [return to text].

[83] l. 186,18. [return to text]

[84] ll. 185,23 and 186,13. [return to text]

[85] See ll. 9.339-41. [return to text]

[86] IV, pr. iii, 60-61. This reference is to the following edition: Boethius: The Theological Tractates, with an English Translation by H. F. Stewart and E. K. Rand. The Consolation of Philosophy, with the English Translation of ‘I. T.’ (1609), revised by H. F. Stewart, The Loeb Classical Library, 74 (London and Cambridge, MA: Heinemann and Harvard University Press, 1918; repr. 1968). Translations are based on the following: Boethius: The Consolation of Philosophy, translated with an Introduction by V. E. Watts, Penguin Classics (London: Penguin, 1969). [return to text]

[87] ll. 331,38-332,26. [return to text]

[88] See Williams’s comments on ll. 7.323f. of the Aeneid, vol. 2, p. 191. [return to text]

[89] Noted by Williams in his introduction to Book 7 of the Aeneid, vol. 2, p. 165. [return to text]

[90] l. 1.4. [return to text]

[91] ll. 7.586-90. [return to text]

[92] l. 7.594. [return to text]

[93] ll. 319-22. [return to text]

[94] ll. 64-68. [return to text]

[95] l. 76. [return to text]

[96] It now seems to be widely accepted that Veldeke had recourse to Virgil as well as the Roman d’Eneas when composing the Eneasroman. See Ruh, p. 77. [return to text]

[97] l. 139,3. My own, rather free (!) translation to illustrate the combative implications. [return to text]

[98] l. 1.11. [return to text]

[99] l. 263,39. [return to text]

[100] ll. 207,15-16. Note that in both medieval texts, it is a ring rather than a baldric which Aeneas gives Pallas. This is significant for the ending, as Turnus’s surrender involves the feudal gesture of offering his hands in submission (see Kartschoke’s note to l. 331,16 in the Reclam edition). In these circumstances, the ring is extremely prominent. [return to text]

[101] Barbarossa is mentioned at ll. 226,16-227,10 and 347,14-348,4. The first mention is in connection with his alleged rediscovery of the tomb of Pallas during his first Italian campaign (1154-55), the second in connection with the wedding feast of Eneas, which is compared to theMainzer Hoffest of 1184, a spectacular festival at which Barbarossa’s two sons were knighted. Both these episodes could also be expected to recall the name of Henry the Lion. Henry was the grandson of the Emperor Lothar III, and Henry’s wife, the daughter of Henry II of England, was a granddaughter of the Empress Matilda. Henry had provided the largest contingent of knights for the first Italian campaign and played a crucial role in putting down an uprising in Rome on the day of Barbarossa’s imperial coronation. His power and influence seriously rivalled that of the emperor. Nevertheless, by 1180 he had fallen from grace and was exiled, not being recalled until 1185. However, Henry is known to have attended the Mainzer Hoffest, which Veldeke seems also to have witnessed. The reappearance of this well-known figure must have made a huge impression on all who were there. For more about the relationship between Barbarossa and Henry the Lion, see, for instance: Horst Fuhrmann, Germany in the High Middle Ages c.1050-1200, translated by Timothy Reuter, Cambridge Medieval Textbooks (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), pp. 135-80; Karl Jordan, Henry the Lion: A Biography, translated by P. S. Falla (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986).

From The Open University
http://www2.open.ac.uk/ClassicalStudies/GreekPlays/conf96/magnerabs.htm