Note: The following is a selection from a chapter of my thesis entitled "The Ladies in Question." In this chapter, I explain a bit about Cundrie. Maybe this will answer some questions.

Composing Cundrie: Text, Buildup and Reversal

The Text

"A brave man slowly wise—thus I hail my hero." (4) [i]

The story of Parzival the Grail Knight is well known to followers of Arthurian legend. Wolfram's epic poem, completed between 1209 and 1215, is but one of many medieval renditions. However, as Helen Mustard and Charles Passage point out, the German's work "seems less medieval and more modern than [the later works of] Dante" (vii), a feat even more impressive if one is to believe Wolfram's claim that he is unlettered.[ii] Wolfram's Parzival convincingly depicts children, integrates the sacred and the worldly, celebrates love in marriage (contrary to so-called Courtly Love's adulterous worship from afar), and portrays "the inner development of the hero, the first story showing such a development in Western European literature" (vii-ix). The poem charts Parzival's transformation from an innocent and ignorant child brimming with questions, to a naive yet well-intentioned warrior who equates courtesy with silence, to a worthy knight both wise and compassionate. Parzival, in his quest for understanding, happens upon and is guided by many figures, some sharply realistic, others startlingly otherworldly. Cundrie la sorcière falls into the latter category.

The Buildup

The audience first meets Cundrie in Book VI of Parzival, and initial impressions are framed by Wolfram's description of her moral value. She is “a maiden much praised for her loyalty but whose courtesy was consumed in rage" (312). The poet continues, describing her mount (a pathetic and rather ragged mule), the fineness of her riding gear, and then adds (at this point, cryptically), "No lady was she in appearance" (312). Although in retrospect this aside is recognized as foreshadowing, in the initial reading, the damsel’s failings appear to be indicative of social status rather than appearance. Rather than focus on this possibility, Wolfram forces his audience to pose a new question by asking "Alas, what did her coming mean?" (312). Again, instead of answering, the poet states that the woman is learned, speaking "Latin, French, and heathen," (i.e., Arabic) and that she knows the art of dialectic, geometry, and astronomy. Finally, he gives her name: "Cundrie, with surname la sorcière," whose "tongue was far from lame, for it had quite enough to say…" (312).

Still, not a textual clue as to what this Cundrie looks like.

The Reversal

Wolfram again teases his audience, stating that "the learned maiden looked quite unlike those whom we call belles gens" (313), but then lapses into an inventory of Cundrie's sumptuous wardrobe (a cape from Ghent, fashioned in the French style, a dress of pfellel silk, a hat from London), alternating each fine description with asides as to the woeful nature of Cundrie's message. Wolfram then abruptly springs his surprise:

Over her hat swung a braid of her hair, so long that it touched the mule. It was black and hard, not pretty, and soft as the bristles of a pig. She had a nose like a dog's, and two boar's teeth stuck out from her mouth, each a span in length. Both eyebrows were braided and the braids drawn up to the ribbon that held her hair. —Only for truth's sake has my courtesy so offended as to speak thus of a lady. No other can reproach me for saying the like of her. (313)

The audience does not know how loathsome Cundrie is until the end of stanza 313—almost two full stanzas since her first introduction. It is as if she comes into focus as she approaches the crowd: first seen is her mount, then her clothes, and then at last her features. Is this effect solely to achieve verisimilitude? The body of courtly love literature is filled with descriptions of women first honored for their beauty and then described with all of the accoutrements of wealth and prestige. In fact, the descriptions of women in Parzival follow this pattern, with Cundrie being the blatant exception. Therefore, Wolfram’s creation of Cundrie is a conscious departure from the norm, one that deliberately misleads.

As shocking as Cundrie’s appearance may seem, her words have even greater impact. She addresses Arthur and his court in French (which Wolfram explains that he must put into German for "you," his audience, though he is not glad of Cundrie's tidings):

"Fils du roi Uterpandragun, what you have done here has brought shame to yourself and to many a Briton. The best knights of all lands would be sitting here in honor, were their honor not now mixed with gall. The Round Table is ruined; falsity has joined its ranks. King Arthur, you were praised above your peers. But your rising fame is sinking, your swift renown now limps, your high praise is dwindling, your honor has proven false. The fame and power of the Round Table are lamed now that Sir Parzival has joined its company, though he also bears, as he sits over there, the outward signs of a knight. You call him the Red Knight, after him who died before Nantes. The lives of the two were quite unlike, for no knight's lips have ever read of one so completely noble as he."

"You are the one to blame that I deny my proper greeting to Arthur and his retinue. A curse on the beauty of your face and on your manly limbs. If I had peace and accord to give, you would find it hard to get them. You think me an unnatural monster, yet I am more natural and pleasing than you. Sir Parzival, why don't you speak and tell me why, as the sorrowful fisherman sat there, joyless and comfortless, you did not release him from his sighs? He showed you his burden of grief. Oh faithless guest! You should have taken pity on his distress.

"May your mouth become empty, I mean of the tongue within it, as your heart is empty of real feeling! … You baited lure! You adder's fang! Your host gave you a sword, of which you were never worthy. Your silence earned you there the sin supreme…Had you but asked at Munsalvaesche—the city of Tabronit in heathendom has riches enough to satisfy all earthly desire, yet they cannot compare with the reward your question would have brought you here. The queen of that land was won in hard knightly combat by Feirefiz the Angevin. In him that manhood which the father of both of you also possessed has never failed. Your brother is a strange and wondrous man. He is both black and white, the son of the Queen of Zazamanc… Your good name is destroyed… Your fame has turned into falseness. Alas that I ever learned that Herzeloyde's child had failed of finding honor."

Cundrie herself succumbed to grief. Weeping, she wrung her hands, and many a tear overtook another as great sorrow pressed them from her eyes. It was loyal devotion taught the maiden to pour out her heart's distress. (315-318)

As the members of Arthur's court will later comment, it is through Cundrie that they learn of both Parzival's name and his lineage (325).[iii] Cundrie also subtly compares the ethical health of Arthur's court to Anfortas's physical condition, referencing both Arthur’s and the Round Table's "limping" renown. Addressing Parzival directly, however, Cundrie disregards all subtlety—or, perhaps, courtesy—and charges him with the sin of indifference that was manifested in silence.

Cundrie is referred to in three more scenes before making her final appearances. In stanzas 438-439, Sigune tells Parzival (and the audience) that her food comes directly from the Grail via Cundrie, who brings enough food every Saturday night to last the whole week. Here Parzival also learns that Cundrie has just departed for points unknown. The loathly damsel is again named in stanza 517, in a scene that is ostensibly intended to introduce and describe Cundrie's brother, Malcreatiure. As this is Malcreatiure's only appearance in the text, the audience may better use this information to understand Cundrie, especially since he is described as exactly like her, but male. Wolfram makes it clear that this dark-skinned brother and sister come from Tribalibot (the city of Magadha in India [Monsalvat, india.html]). The poet then appears to curiously digress:

Our father Adam received from God the art of giving names to all things, both the wild and the tame. He knew the nature of each, and the revolutions of the stars as well, and what forces the seven planets had; and he also knew the virtues of all herbs and what the nature of each one was. When his daughters had acquired the power of years and might bear human offspring, he counseled them against intemperance. Whenever one of his daughters bore a child, he warned her repeatedly and rarely spared the admonition, to avoid eating many herbs which would spoil the human fruit and bring shame on his race: "Other than God appointed when He sat at work over me," as he said, "my beloved daughters, be not blinded as to your salvation." (518)

In this aside intended for the audience of the text and not Gawain, Orgeluse, and Malcreatiure (the audience in the text), Wolfram stresses the God-given art of naming, the knowledge of astronomy, and both the values and the dangers of herbs. It would appear to have little to do with the animalistic description of Cundrie's brother, yet this information does foreshadow Cundrie’s prophetic exposition in Book XV. Wolfram follows this speech with an explanation that the frailty of women brought about the perversion of the human race, intriguingly ending with, "Now Adam grieved at this. But his will never faulted" (519). Wolfram then explains how Queen Secundille had in her land "a great many of these people with distorted faces, and they bore strange, wild marks" (519). “These” people tell the queen about the Grail and about Anfortas. To learn more, the Queen sends her "precious jewels," Cundrie and Malcreatiure, to the Grail King—along with many other wondrous gifts. "Then the sweet Anfortas, generous as he always was, sent this courteous squire [Malcreatiure] to Orgeluse de Logrois. A difference originating in woman's intemperance set him off from the human race" (519). Wolfram later refers to Malcreatiure as "the kinsman of the herb and the stars" (520). The digression, therefore, is another ploy by the poet to frame and to answer the audience's unspoken question: how do "Others" come to be? Secundille, though dark-skinned, can still be considered beautiful according to the Western aesthetic. The brother and sister from India, however, are completely outside of medieval European understanding. The poet uses this total Other-ness to portray a worldview in which appearance is not indicative of an individual's sinfulness or spiritual worth. Although these two look different, it is because of the actions of their fore-mothers and does not hinder their ability to teach about or to touch the Grail. They are still baptized, still Christian, and still to be respected. In fact, the kinswoman of the herb and the stars uses her knowledge of herbs both to nurture (feeding Sigune) and to heal. In Book XI, Arnive, Arthur's mother, tells Gawan that Cundrie frequently visits her, "and whatever may be done with medicines she imparts to me" (579). It is Cundrie's knowledge of herbs and healing that helps Anfortas—in fact, Arnive claims that Cundrie's salve has helped to keep the Fisher king from dying.[iv]

Cundrie dramatically returns in Book XV. Reintroducing la sorcière, Wolfram repeats the expository advance and retreat he first used to acquaint his audience with this loathly damsel:

A maiden was now seen approaching: her garments were sumptuous and of fine cut; costly and of the French style was her hooded mantle of rich velvet blacker than a civet cat; Arabian gold gleamed thereon, wrought as many small turtledoves, the emblem of the Grail. Much was she gazed at in curiosity. Now, let her hasten hither. Her headdress was tall and shining; with many a thick veil was her countenance covered and not exposed to view. (778)

At this point, the audience has formed expectations based on their repertoires of literature that deal with the Loathly Damsel (discussed at length in the section “Hags, Nags, and Gags” of “Woman as Other/Woman as Mother”). As Cundrie is identified with this archetype, the supposition is that with the pending triumph of the hero, the hag will be transformed. In a scene that mirrors Cundrie’s first entrance into the text, Wolfram slowly and deliberately brings Cundrie into the ring, first depositing her before Arthur and Guenevere, then bringing her directly to Parzival. There, still covered, she begs for forgiveness, which Parzival eventually gives “sincerely and ungrudgingly” (779). To repeat: in the tradition of the sources, the audience expects that Cundrie unveiled will have been delivered from her ugliness. The scene is set for Wolfram to again trip up the audience by creating an unexpected, but plausible, outcome:

With her hand she undid her headdress and threw down veil and fastenings in front of her in the ring. Cundrie la sorcière was then recognized at once, and the Grail coat of arms that she wore was gazed at curiously enough. She still had the same appearance that so many men and women had seen appear by the Plimizoel. You have heard her countenance described: her eyes were still the same, yellow as topazes, her teeth were long, her mouth shone blue as a violet. Except to solicit compliments, there was no need of her wearing a costly hat on Plimizoel meadow; the sun did not hurt her any; it could not have gotten through her hair with its dangerous radiance to tan her complexion. (780)

Wolfram takes pains to note that Cundrie’s elaborate costume—and that is what it was—is not intended to conceal a change. The audience is forced, much like Parzival, to question reason and purpose. Yet Wolfram does not allow his audience to ponder that question; instead, he promises a speech that its "hearers found astonishing" (781). Cundrie then both hails and acknowledges the presence of Parzival and his half brother, the black and white mottled Feirefiz. She directs her speech, though, to Parzival. Where Cundrie had earlier condemned Parzival, she now lauds him, proclaiming that he will soon ask the question of Anfortas and that Parzival will soon be the Lord of the Grail. She announces to all that Parzival, Condwiramurs (Parzival's wife), and Loherangrin (one of Parzival's twin sons, of whom neither the hero nor the audience have had previous knowledge) have literally (as "the inscription has been read" [781]) been written into Grail history. Then, in one of the most magical scenes of Parzival, Cundrie names the planets in Arabic, Feirefiz's mother tongue:

"Mark now, Parzival:

The highest of the planets, Zval,

And the swiftly moving Almustri,

Almaret, and the bright Samsi,

All show good fortune for you here.

The fifth is named Alligafir.

Under there the sixth is Alkiter,

And nearest us is Alkamer.

"I do not speak this out of any dream. These are the bridle of the firmament and they check its speed; their opposition has ever contended against its sweep.

"For you, Care now is an orphan. Whatever the planets' orbits bound, upon whatever their light is shed, that is destined as your goal to reach and to achieve. Your sorrow must now perish. Insatiety alone will exclude you from that community, for the Grail and the Grail's power forbid false friendship. When young, you fostered Sorrow; but Joy, approaching, has robbed her of you. You have achieved the soul's peace and waited amid sorrow for the joys of the flesh." (782)

Cundrie, unlovely as ever, speaks some of the most beautiful words of the text. The dissonance between her words and their meaning parallel that between her appearance and her language. The words used by and in connection with Cundrie are both glaringly apparent and cunningly deceptive: Joy "robbing" Parzival of Sorrow, for example, initially reads as a loss to be rued, although it signifies a gain for which the hero should rejoice. The damsel’s oxymorons reflect the dual nature of Fortune, in which all turns of the Wheel are potential courses (or curses) of fate. Parzival acknowledges that he deserved his earlier reproof and, in essence, thanks Cundrie. He then verifies—literally, makes truth of—both Cundrie's words and her presence, explaining to the audience that she wears the turtledove emblem seen at the Grail castle. In other words, Cundrie, the figure with the answers, has to be given credence by the one called to ask the question. Finally, Cundrie's speech is not only one of praise, but it is also a call to action: it is time for Parzival to fulfill his destiny. He may bring a companion; he chooses Feirefiz. Book XV concludes with the three riding off towards Monsalvaesche.

Book XVI is the final book of Parzival; in this, all of the situations are brought together for the quintessential happy ending. In her role as messenger and mediator, Cundrie delivers Parzival to his destiny and continues to guide, protect, and sustain those of the Grail court. Her first intervention is in a scene both comic and terrifyingly plausible. As Cundrie and her group approach Terre de Salvaesche[v], the leader of the Grail troop (Templar knights) proclaims, "Our grief has come to an end. With the Grail's insignia there comes to us here he whom we have ever desired since the rope of sorrow bound us. Halt! Great joy approaches us!" (793) Feirefiz and Parzival respond according to their knightly training and rush to combat; Cundrie holds them back, "reminding" Parzival that these are Grail knights—whose shields and banners he should recognize. Feirefiz responds (wryly, one would think), "In that case let battle be avoided" (793).[vi] Upon delivering Parzival and Feirefiz to the Grail castle, the loathly damsel essentially disappears.  Parzival "achieves" the Grail simply by asking “Uncle, what is it that troubles you?” (796), is reunited with his wife and children (800), and discovers his cousin Sigune, who first told him his name, his lineage, and of his destiny, dead (804). Feirefiz, though married to the heathen Queen Secundille, falls for Repanse de Schoye (the Grail maiden) and is baptized so that he can "have the girl" (817).[vii] The two are married and plan to go to Carcobra. Here, Cundrie reappears, as she is chosen to deliver a message to the burgrave there that will assure safe passage for the newlyweds. In her travels, Cundrie learns and relays that Secundille has died, to which Wolfram adds, "then for the first time Repand de Schoye was able to be glad of her journey" (822). The loathly damsel is again mentioned in her role as messenger, for she brings news to Anfortas of Feirefiz, his wife, and of the death of Secundille. The poet then highlights the events of Parzival and restates his intent in composing this epic poem, thereby ending his work.