By Robert Jackson Wood
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Eg20_3n6HN0i_2-UkJpgTENL3Jr_AwUiv44gZ4igAEhuRjyBSV0rON8s-vh5Q76OmYfrSyMyXt0htzfoz9K7p5RDE2yVqnXQpO6ly1330N_7X3VWKG_wvduGqIXrX-UqSBIfxoHCUnuo/s400/Marie+de+France.jpeg) |
Modified Manesse Codex Image by Al Cofrin
referencing a 12th-century telling of the Tristan story. |
Few things are more universal than songs about frustrated love, be it unfulfilled, unconsummated, or unrequited. Yet there was a time, believe it or not, when those songs would have been puzzling at best—and been downright heretical at worst.
Before the late 12th century, to speak publically of love was usually to speak of religious or political matters having little to do with the cravings of worldly desire. In the Christian world, love meant either the greater love of God binding together all things (as in "I love you, but my love for you is really an extension of God's love for the whole universe") or the related
agape love shared between devout brothers and sisters in platonic union. In the political realm, love often meant something purely utilitarian—marriages entered into to produce would-be kings and political heirs or to maintain control of property. Love was largely a duty, not an indulgence.
Leave it to vagabond poet-musicians wandering the medieval French countryside to change all of that. In a fascinating instance of life imitating art, the songs of the troubadours, rife with accounts of indecent proposals and adulterous passions, helped to introduce a new, largely secular (and delightfully manic-depressive) way of talking about love into society as a whole. For the church, it was heresy. But for women, it meant having a newfound social power unheard of in the centuries before.