Standing in the magnificent Great Hall at Poitiers, it's tempting to imagine Eleanor of Aquitaine surrounded by noblewomen, listening to the romantic dilemmas of knights and lovers before delivering their judgements on matters of the heart.
It's a wonderful image, and one that has captured imaginations for centuries. But did Eleanor really preside over these legendary Courts of Love, or has a fascinating piece of medieval literature gradually become accepted as historical fact?
I should probably begin by saying that I'm not a historian, and I certainly don't pretend to have the answers to a question that has intrigued scholars for generations. These are simply my own musings on a subject that appeals to the romantic in me. I enjoy looking beyond the battles, political intrigues and struggles for power that dominate so much of medieval history and wondering about the people themselves. What did they dream about? What made them happy? And how did they find moments of tenderness and affection in a world that could be so unforgiving?
After all, the human desire to be cherished and loved is hardly something new. It has been part of our lives for as long as humanity has existed, and I find it difficult to imagine that people living eight or nine hundred years ago felt any differently. Yet in a society where marriage, particularly among the nobility, was so often arranged to secure land, wealth or political alliances, where did romance fit into the picture? Perhaps that is part of the reason the ideals of courtly love became so appealing, and why the stories surrounding Eleanor of Aquitaine's legendary Courts of Love have continued to capture our imaginations for centuries.
The idea of courtly love flourished in the poetry and songs of the troubadours, who entertained the aristocratic courts of southern France from the late eleventh century onwards. Their stories celebrated romance, longing and devotion, often portraying a knight who sought to prove himself worthy of his lady through courage, honour and acts of chivalry. We can still recognise those ideals in the stories of knights setting out on extraordinary adventures, and particularly in the famous romance between Lancelot and Guinevere, where love becomes wonderfully complicated by loyalty, duty and marriage.
Eleanor would have grown up surrounded by these traditions. Her grandfather, William IX, Duke of Aquitaine, was one of the earliest known troubadours, and poetry and music were an important part of the culture of Aquitaine. I often wonder how much those early influences shaped Eleanor's own appreciation of literature and romance. Given her remarkable life, her marriages to two kings and the political world she inhabited, it's rather appealing to imagine her enjoying stories in which women were admired, pursued and celebrated for something beyond the lands and alliances they could bring to a marriage.
And this is where the story becomes particularly interesting. Sometime in the late twelfth century, a writer named Andreas Capellanus produced a work known as De Amore (On Love), in which he explored the complicated rules and expectations surrounding romantic relationships. Among these were some rather extraordinary ideas, including the suggestion that marriage was no excuse for not loving, that jealousy was an essential part of love, and that love rarely survived once it became public knowledge. I can't help smiling at some of these rules and wondering just how seriously people were expected to take them!
Even more fascinating are the judgments attributed to noblewomen, including Eleanor of Aquitaine and her daughter Marie of Champagne. Imagine a gathering of aristocratic ladies listening to disputes between lovers, weighing up the arguments and deciding who had behaved honourably and who had broken the rules of romance. Did a married woman have the right to love someone other than her husband? Could a knight transfer his affections to another lady? These were the sorts of questions explored in the literature, and I can certainly understand why the idea of women having the final say in such matters has proved so irresistible.
But there is a rather important complication. De Amore is a literary work, and historians have questioned whether these supposed judgements were ever delivered in real life. Some scholars have even suggested that Andreas was being deliberately playful or satirical. We have no independent contemporary evidence confirming that Eleanor presided over formal Courts of Love, and the familiar image of Eleanor and Marie sitting together in judgement is particularly difficult to substantiate. It leaves us with a wonderful story, but one that we need to approach with a little historical caution.
Eleanor certainly spent time in Poitiers during the late 1160s and early 1170s, exercising authority in her own duchy of Aquitaine. By then, her marriage to Henry II of England had become increasingly strained, and she was spending considerable time away from his court. I find this period of her life particularly fascinating because, after years spent as the wife of first the King of France and then the King of England, she was once again in the lands she had inherited in her own right.
And so I return to that magnificent Great Hall in Poitiers and wonder what life within its walls might have been like. We know Eleanor had a court, but whether gatherings devoted to settling the romantic dilemmas of noblemen and women ever took place there remains uncertain. I can picture the conversations, the laughter and perhaps a few heated disagreements as the merits of different lovers were debated. Of course, that is my imagination at work rather than historical evidence, but isn't that part of what makes exploring the past so enjoyable? There are so many questions for which the surviving records simply cannot give us an answer.
From a purely personal point of view, I would dearly love to believe that these Courts of Love really existed. Perhaps that's simply because, deep down, I'm an incurable romantic, and the thought of people gathering to debate the complexities of love and relationships appeals to me enormously. I can just imagine the lively discussions, the disagreements and perhaps even a little scandal as these noblewomen considered the romantic entanglements brought before them. And I wonder whether those who first heard such stories were just as entertained by the possibilities as we are today.
But there is another reason I find the legend so appealing, and that is the place it gives to women. Life in the Middle Ages could be particularly difficult for women, whose choices were often constrained by family expectations, marriage arrangements and the authority of the men around them. Of course, women such as Eleanor could wield considerable influence and power, but that was far from the experience of most. I rather like the thought that, even if only in the imagination of a medieval storyteller, there was a place where women's opinions mattered, where their understanding of love and relationships was respected, and where they were the ones delivering the final judgement.
Perhaps we'll never know whether Eleanor and her ladies really gathered in that magnificent hall at Poitiers to settle disputes of the heart. But I think I'll always enjoy imagining that they did. And perhaps that is part of the reason these stories have survived for so long. They speak to something wonderfully human that connects us with the people of the past, however different their world may have been from our own.
What do you think? Were the legendary Courts of Love a romantic reality, or simply a wonderful piece of medieval storytelling? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Images: Great Hall of Palais de Justice © Plantagenet Discoveries, Courtly Love Manuscript Public Domain
