he "_Ladies' Book_"
(FraueribucK) and his poetic messages to the queen of his heart betray
not only an exaggerated love, but also the qualities of charity,
bravery, honor. Von Lichtenstein's description of his own interesting
life is due not to his self-love, but, as he tells us, "to the pure,
sweet, much beloved lady." It is true that pure, sweet lady is
capricious and cruel enough; for example, she invites her paladin to
mingle among the lepers who assembled before her castle; promising as a
reward to appoint an hour for a nocturnal visit and the fulfilment of
his desires. But his exposure to a disgusting malady serves him to no
purpose.

Even religion is subordinated by Von Lichtenstein to his lady love. He
is not especially anxious for a pilgrimage across the sea, unless his
lady so orders. He reproaches ladies for their nun-like costume, and
says: "Alas, when you ought to go to dance with us, you are seen
standing by the church."

His wishes for wealth are concentrated in five things: "fine women, good
food, beautiful horses, good garments, brilliant armour." Von
Lichtenstein calls himself blest that "his senses are intent to love
her, to love her more and more." He hopes that in her goodness the good,
dear, "pure" lady will reward his constancy more graciously than
heretofore with the fulfilment of his wishes. Comfort and joy he has
only in her, the fair one, the bright one, in her laughter. "When he is
reflected in her playing eyes, his high mind blossoms like the roses at
May time." "He would rather dwell in his lady's heart than in heaven
itself."

But real madness begins when, to please his lady, he has a painful
operation performed on his lip; on another occasion he cuts off his
little finger and sends it to her in a precious box. The lady is
astonished that any man can make such a fool of himself. And yet we
learn incidentally that Ulrich has a good wife and dear children at home
whom he visits when his knight-errantry carries him past his ancestral
castle. He lives with his wife during the wintry days, he mentions her
housewifely virtues in his poetry, she nurses him when he returns,
perchance, sick and injured by his mocking-bird of a lady who, promising
him sweet fulfilment, has him drawn up in a sheet to the window of her
castle, and then prevents his entering by causing him to be dropped
fifty feet into the moat. A strange chapter, truly, in the history of
human folly and perversity!

It is pleasa