The Loathly Damsel
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He is busy with the "laide
demoiselle", as Kundry is called in Chrétien de
Troyes.
[Cosima's Diaries, entry for 5 October
1877]
This figure of the Loathly Damsel is
comparable, and perhaps related, to that
Zoroastrian Spirit of the Way who
meets the soul at death on the Chinvat Bridge to
the Persian yonder world. Those of wicked life see
her as ugly; those of unsullied virtue, most fair.
The Loathly Damsel or Ugly Bride is a well-known
figure, moreover, in Celtic
fairytale and legend. We have met with one of
her manifestations in the Irish folktale of the
daughter of the King of the Land of Youth, who was
cursed with the head of a pig (as [in Wolfram's text below] a pig's
bristles and boar's snout), but when boldly kissed
became beautiful and bestowed on her saviour the
kingship of her timeless realm. The Kingdom of the
Grail is such a land: to be achieved only by one
capable of transcending the painted wall of
space-time with its foul and fair, good and evil,
true and false display of the names and forms of
merely phenomenal pairs of opposites. Geoffrey
Chaucer (1340? - 1400) provides an elegant example
of the resolution of the Loathly Bride motif in his
Tale of the Wife of Bath; John
Gower (1325? - 1408) another in his Tale of Florent.
There is also the fifteenth- century poem The Weddynge of Sir Gawen and Dame
Ragnall as well as a mid-seventeenth- century
ballad, The Marriage of Sir Gawain. The
transformation of the fairy bride and the
sovereignty that she bestows are, finally, of one's
own heart in fulfillment.
he
following description of the Loathly Damsel is from
the Middle English The Wedding of Sir Gawain and
Dame Ragnelle.
225 Kyng Arthoure rode forthe on the other day
Into Yngleswod as hys gate laye,
And ther he mett with a Lady.
She was as ungoodly a creature
As evere man sawe, withoute mesure.
230 Kyng Arthure mervaylyd securly.
Her face was red, her nose snotyd withalle,
Her mowithe wyde, her tethe yalowe overe alle,
With bleryd eyen gretter then a balle.
Her mowithe was nott to lak:
235 Her tethe hyng overe her lyppes,
Her chekys syde as wemens hippes.
A lute she bare upon her bak;
Her nek long and therto greatt;
Her here cloteryd on an hepe;
240 In the sholders she was a yard brode.
Hangyng pappys to be an hors lode,
And lyke a barelle she was made.
And to reherse the fowlnesse of that Lady,
Ther is no tung may telle, securly;
245 Of lothynesse inowghe she had.
She satt on a palfray was gay begon,
With gold besett and many a precious stone.
Ther was an unsemely syghte:
So fowlle a creature withoute mesure
250 To ryde so gayly, I you ensure,
Ytt was no reason ne ryghte.
She rode to Arthoure and thus she sayd:
"God spede, Sir Kyng! I am welle payd
That I have with the mett;
255 Speke with me, I rede, or thou goo,
For thy lyfe is in my hand, I warn the soo;
That shalt thou fynde, and I itt nott lett.
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next
path led
uncouth
beyond measure
marveled transfixed
snotted as well
mouth; teeth yellow
bleary; than
oversmall
hung
broad; hips
hump; back
equally broad
hair clotted; heap
breasts [large enough]
recount
surely
ugliness enough
palfrey [that] was richly draped
adorned
incongruous
handsomely; assure
neither proper nor
satisfied
advise before
promise you
if; prevent
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agner first
encountered the Loathly Damsel in Wolfram's Parzival, book 6. He
told Cosima that Wolfram's
text had nothing to do with Parsifal; when
he read the epic, he first said to himself that
nothing could be done with it, but a few things
stuck in my mind - the Good
Friday, the wild appearance of Condrie. That
is all it was. In this extract (312, 6 to 314,
10) the Middle High German text is shown in the left
column and an English paraphrase in the right
column.
der meide ir kunst des verjach,
alle sprâche si wol sprach,
latîn, heidensch, franzoys.
si was der witze kurtoys,
dîaletike und jêometrî:
ir wâren ouch die liste bî
von astronomîe.
si hiez Cundrîe:
surziere was ir zuoname;
in dem munde niht diu lame:
wand er geredet ir genuoc.
vil hôher freude se nider sluoc.
Diu maget witze rîche
was gevar den unglîche
die man dâ heizet bêâ schent.
ein brûtlachen von Gent,
noch plâwer denne ein lâsûr,
het an geleit der freuden schûr:
daz was ein kappe wol gesniten
al nâch der Franzoyser siten:
drunde an ir lîb was pfelle guot.
von Lunders ein pfæwîn huot,
gefurriert mit einem blîalt
(der huot was niwe, diu snuor niht alt),
der hieng ir an dem rücke.
ir mære was ein brücke:
über freude ez jâmer truoc.
si zuct in schimpfes dâ genuoc.
über den huot ein zopf ir swanc
unz ûf den mûl: der was sô lanc,
swarz, herte und niht ze clâr,
linde als eins swînes rückehâr.
si was genaset als ein hunt:
zwên ebers zene ir vür den munt
giengen wol spannen lanc.
ietweder wintbrâ sich dranc
mit zöpfen vör die hârsnuor.
mîn zuht durch wârheit missevuor,
daz ich sus muoz von vrouwen sagen:
kein andriu darf ez von mir klagen.
Cundrîe truoc ôren als ein ber,
niht nâch vriundes minne ger:
Rûch was ir antlütze erkant.
ein geisel vuorte se in der hant:
dem wârn die swenkel sîdîn
unt der stil ein rubbîn.
gevar als eines affen hût
truoc hende diz gaebe trût.
die nagele wâren niht ze lieht;
wan mir diu âventiure gieht,
si stüenden als eins lewen klân.
nâch ir minne was selten tjost getân.
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this maiden was so talented
that she spoke all languages:
Latin, Heathen and French.
She was familiar with both
dialectic and geometry;
and she had also knowledge
of astronomy.
Her name was Condrie;
her nickname the sorceress.
Her mouth was not restrained
for she could say quite enough.
With it she dampened much joy.
In appearance this learned lady
did not resemble
what we call fine people.
She wore a fine fabric of Ghent,
bluer even than azure
such as bridal gowns are made of;
made into a well-cut coat
in the French fashion.
Beneath it there was fine brocade.
A hat of peacock feathers from London,
lined with cloth-of-gold
(the hat was new, the ribbon not old),
hung down over her back.
Her news was a bridge
carrying grief over happiness.
She killed the joy of the company.
A plait of her hair fell down over her hat
and dangled over the mule: it was so long,
black, tough, not altogether lovely,
about as soft as a boar's bristles.
Her nose was like a dog's,
and tusks jutted from her jaws
to the length of several spans.
Both eyebrows pushed past her hair-band
and drooped down in tresses.
In truth I have erred against propriety
in having to speak thus about a lady,
even if no other has cause to complain about me.
Cundrie's ears resembled a bear's,
her rugged visage was not such
as would arouse a lover's desire.
In her hand she held a knout:
the lashes were of silk
and the stock of ruby.
This fetching sweetheart had
hands the colour of ape-skin.
Her fingernails were none too transparent;
for my source tells me
that they were like a lion's claws.
Seldom were lances broken for her love.
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Above: Marianne Brandt as Kundry in Act 1,
Bayreuth 1882. © Richard- Wagner-
Gedenkstätte.
he above
account was based upon the following
description of the Loathly Damsel from Chrétien's Le Roman de Perceval ou
le Conte du Graal in the translation
by Nigel Bryant, starting at line 4603:
The king, the
queen and the barons gave the most joyful
welcome to Perceval the Welshman, and led
him back to Carlion, returning there that
day. They celebrated all night and the day
that followed: until, on the third day, they
saw a girl coming on a tawny mule, clutching
a whip in her right hand. Her hair hung in
two tresses, black and twisted: and if the
words of my source are true, there was no
creature so utterly ugly even in Hell. You
have never seen iron as black as her neck and
hands, but that was little compared to the
rest of her ugliness: her eyes were just two
holes, tiny as the eyes of a rat; her nose
was like a cat's or monkey's, her lips like
an ass's or a cow's; her teeth were so
discoloured that they looked like egg-yolk;
and she had a beard like a billy-goat. She
had a hump in the middle of her chest and her
back was like a crook ... She greeted the
king and his barons all together - except for
Perceval.
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Sitting upon the tawny mule she
said: 'Ah, Perceval! Fortune has hair in front
but is bald behind. A curse on anyone who greets or
wishes you well, for you didn't take Fortune by the
hand when you met her. You entered the house of the
Fisher King and
saw the lance that bleeds,
but it was so much trouble for you to open your
mouth and speak that you couldn't ask why that drop
of blood sprang from the tip of the white head; nor
did you ask what worthy man was served by the
Grail that you saw. How
wretched is the man who sees the perfect
opportunity and still waits for a better one! And
you, you are the wretched one, who saw that it was
the time and place to speak and yet stayed silent;
you had ample opportunity! It was an evil hour when
you held your tongue, for if you had asked, the
rich king who
is so distressed would now have been quite healed
of his wound and would have held his land in peace
...'
ere is a remarkably
similar account of this incident from the tale of
Peredur as translated by
Lady Guest:
Arthur was at Caerlleon upon Usk,
his principal palace; and in the centre of the
floor of the hall were four men sitting on a carpet
of velvet, Owain the son of Urien, and Gwalchmai the son of
Gwyar, and Howel the son of Emyr Llydaw, and
Peredur of the long
lance. And thereupon they saw a black curly-headed
maiden enter, riding upon a yellow mule, with
jagged thongs in her hand to urge it on; and having
a rough and hideous aspect. Blacker were her face
and her two hands than the blackest iron covered
with pitch; and her hue was not more frightful than
her form. High cheeks had she, and a face
lengthened downwards, and a short nose with
distended nostrils. And one eye was of a piercing
mottled grey, and the other was as black as jet,
deep-sunk in her head. And her teeth were long and
yellow, more yellow were they than the flower of
the broom. And her stomach rose from the breast
bone, higher than her chin. And her back was in the
shape of a crook, and her legs were large and bony.
And her figure was very thin and spare, except her
feet and her legs, which were of huge size. And she
greeted Arthur and all his household except
Peredur.
And to Peredur she spoke harsh and angry
words. "Peredur, I greet
thee not, seeing that thou dost not merit it. Blind
was fate in giving thee fame and favour. When thou
wast in the Court of the Lame King, and didst see
there the youth bearing the streaming spear, from
the points of which were drops of blood flowing in
streams, even to the hand of the youth, and many
other wonders likewise, thou didst not inquire
their meaning nor their cause. Hadst thou done so,
the King would have been restored to health, and
his dominions to peace. Whereas from henceforth, he
will have to endure battles and conflicts, and his
knights will perish, and wives will be widowed, and
maidens will be left portionless, and all this is
because of thee." Then said she unto Arthur, "May
it please thee, lord, my dwelling is far hence, in
the stately castle of which thou hast heard, and
therein are five hundred and sixty-six knights of
the order of Chivalry, and the lady whom best he
loves with each; and whoever would acquire fame in
arms, and encounters, and conflicts, he will gain
it there, if he deserve it. And whoso would reach
the Summit of fame and of honour, I know where he
may find it. There is a Castle on a lofty mountain,
and there is a maiden therein, and she is detained
a prisoner there, and whoever shall set her free
will attain the summit of the fame of the world."
And thereupon she rode away.
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