Some papers I've written recently in my courses have dealt with the category of comrade-love in the medieval context, specifically within romance literature. I'd like to deal with this category a little more and try to understand it both within its context of origination and original reception, but also what it might mean for and how it might influence other contexts, especially our own.
First, the twelfth century French romance (though probably composed in England, which was a very Francophone and Francophile culture at the time, especially among the powerful elites) called the Roman d'Enéas is a medieval adaptation of the narrative of Virgil's Aeneid for a new context and suited for the emerging genre of romance. It follows the Latin Aeneid closely, but also deviates significantly from Virgil's text, especially where it needs to do so in order to conform to the new standards of romance. The love story, for instance, is expanded drastically. Its important to say as well that Enéas epitomizes the genre of romance, exemplifying most of the genre's expected characteristics. Thus, even though it is an adaptation of classical material, the Enéas is, by intention, distinctly medieval.
One of the conventions that, although present in the Latin Aeneid, is very obviously included in the medieval French adaptation with no apparent anxiety, commentary, or explanation is the depictons of same-sex desire. My assumption is that if the medieval courtly audience would have experienced anxiety or tension or could possibly have misinterpreted these depictions, the composer of Enéas would have either redacted these portions of the narrative, or somehow used the narration to address these possible issues. Rather, the depictions are shamelessly included and vividly articulated in the poem.
One such instance is the episode of Nisus and Euryalus. Let me quote here from the Yunck prose translation (John A Yunck, transl., Enéas: A Twelfth Century French Romance, New York: Columbia University Press, 1974):
At the gate Eneas had placed as guard a knight named Nisus; he valued no man more. Nisus was very brave and had complete charge of the castle. This knight had a companion named Euryalus; they loved one another with such a love that they could have none greater. There was never a truer love than that between them, as long as they lived. Neither of them knew anything, or had any joy or desire, without the other. (152-3)
This passage needs little in the way of interpretation. "They loved one another with such a love that they could have none greater," implies that not even heteronormative love could compare with the love that existed between the two young knights. Also, we read that since, "never a truer love," could have existed for either one of them, then the narrator of the poem indicates that this brand of comrade-love is one of the truest possible. Even more interestingly, in the last sentence of the passage I quoted, we see that neither had any joy or desire without the other. Even in the Middle Ages (and even in the Old French original), this could very easily have been interpreted the same way that we interpret it now: they experienced EVERY joy and desire together.
The rhetoric of comrade-love is downright identical to that of heteronormative desire in other romance narratives, including narratives within the same poem, when we examine the language the two knights use to speak to each other:
When Euryalus listened and heard that Nisus wished to do such brave deeds, he was most happy and joyful over it, but he was desirous of going with him, and said, "I will not remain here, and you will not go about this business alone. How will I remain without you, or how will you go without me? For are you not I, and am I not you? I think you have lost your senses: we are one soul and one body, and one-half will go outside; how can the one remain without the other? From now on I can complain about you that you deceive me, and do not hold any love or true companionship with me. You will not go against the army without me, nor will I remain behind without you." (153)
In addition to the standard--and heteronormative--trope of one lover being unable to be separated from the other, we also see the possibly Platonic rhetoric of destined soul-mates, sharing one body and one soul. We also see a gesture, quite very queer to modern readers, of one male combatant questioning the love of his comrade for not taking him with him on his daring and risky plot to slay enemy knights. Very clearly, then, it is love for his comrade that propels Nisus to brave acts, not the quest for glory or to impress and observing beloved maiden.
During their plight, the enemy knights capture Euryalus, but Nisus is able to escape. The ensuing lover's grief that he experiences is yet another trope borrowed unapologetically and comfortably from the heternormative rhetoric of desire characteristic of romance narratives:
Nisus was so far from them that he would never have been captured. Then he remembered his companion, stopped, and looked around: he did not hear him or see him. His sorrow was not small but very great. He sighed bitterly, beat himself with his fists, and tore his hair.
"Alas, wretch, what will I do now about my friend, whom I have lost? I have kept very bad faith with him, since he is caputred or dead without me; like a coward I abandoned him. I feared death too much, and fled; but I thought he would follow me, and did not see what he was doing. Most certainly I should hae remained. I would not have felt too much cause to lament if I had died and he had lived. Euryalus, sweet friend, for love of you I will lose my life: I will never live longer than you. Ill-fated was your youth! I have given you my affection, and have lost you very quickly. Now I think I am delaying too long, for my soul is not joined with yours, which is suffering; it will be there quickly. But I think in good truth that my friend is not yet dead. I feel my heart and it is wholly alive. If he had felt the mortal pangs, my heart would likewise have felt them. It may well be that they have captured him, but they have surely not killed him. They woud never do such cruelty as to lay hand on him with evil intent. Who would touch such a creature? Ah, wretch, what an evil turn that I have escaped their hands, as if he has suffered while I am well! I will return to where I was when I parted from him. If I do not find him I will value my life little. If there is no one else who will kill me, I know well that I will kill myself. I will outlive him only a little." (157)
Once again, we see the references to being of one sould of one body, for Nisus expects that he would feel the same "pangs" of death, should Euryalus' heart cease to beat. Additionally, though, we see the rhetoric of the suicidal impulse at the prospect of having lost one's lover. This is an especially powerful sentiment since it occurs in this poem, the same one that depicts the suicide of Queen Dido, who "died for love," killing herself when Enéas departs Carthage for Italy earlier in the romance. The fact that such similar language is used suggests that the emotions between Nisus and Euryalus are meant to be interpreted as parallel, if not identical, to the heteronormative romantic love between Dido and Enéas.
When Nisus comes upon Euryalus and discovers that he is about to be killed by his captors, he pleads for his friends life:
"Whoever would touch him has a very hard heart; whoever wishes to kill him has never loved; whoever would touch such a creature has no care for true love. I will offer my head for his: if I die for him it will be most agreeable to me." (158)
Nisus' plea does little good, for the captors decapitate Euryalus in front of him, and in his pained grief, Nisus is prompted to seek vegeance for his lost friend, but is killed in the attempt.
In general, this episode from the romance shows the rather typical way in which composers of romance use the same language they use to depict heteronormative love and desire to depict same-sex comrade love, but with some basic rules: the men are always of equal status, both are privileged and elite (knights), and their love works to inspire them to acts of bravery and militaristic excellence.
My questions at this point are: Why is this kind of "queer" love tolerated or even encouraged within this genre? Why does there seem to be no anxiety or tension surronding it? What changed from the feudal context to establish codes of masculinity in which this kind of male-male affection would seem bizarre? And last, in a historical context that demonizes sodomitical behavior, how do these elite and popular poems skirt around that possible accusation? My answer to the last is that perhaps the reason has something to do with estate identity and class-based expectations of masculinity.
First, the twelfth century French romance (though probably composed in England, which was a very Francophone and Francophile culture at the time, especially among the powerful elites) called the Roman d'Enéas is a medieval adaptation of the narrative of Virgil's Aeneid for a new context and suited for the emerging genre of romance. It follows the Latin Aeneid closely, but also deviates significantly from Virgil's text, especially where it needs to do so in order to conform to the new standards of romance. The love story, for instance, is expanded drastically. Its important to say as well that Enéas epitomizes the genre of romance, exemplifying most of the genre's expected characteristics. Thus, even though it is an adaptation of classical material, the Enéas is, by intention, distinctly medieval.
One of the conventions that, although present in the Latin Aeneid, is very obviously included in the medieval French adaptation with no apparent anxiety, commentary, or explanation is the depictons of same-sex desire. My assumption is that if the medieval courtly audience would have experienced anxiety or tension or could possibly have misinterpreted these depictions, the composer of Enéas would have either redacted these portions of the narrative, or somehow used the narration to address these possible issues. Rather, the depictions are shamelessly included and vividly articulated in the poem.
One such instance is the episode of Nisus and Euryalus. Let me quote here from the Yunck prose translation (John A Yunck, transl., Enéas: A Twelfth Century French Romance, New York: Columbia University Press, 1974):
At the gate Eneas had placed as guard a knight named Nisus; he valued no man more. Nisus was very brave and had complete charge of the castle. This knight had a companion named Euryalus; they loved one another with such a love that they could have none greater. There was never a truer love than that between them, as long as they lived. Neither of them knew anything, or had any joy or desire, without the other. (152-3)
This passage needs little in the way of interpretation. "They loved one another with such a love that they could have none greater," implies that not even heteronormative love could compare with the love that existed between the two young knights. Also, we read that since, "never a truer love," could have existed for either one of them, then the narrator of the poem indicates that this brand of comrade-love is one of the truest possible. Even more interestingly, in the last sentence of the passage I quoted, we see that neither had any joy or desire without the other. Even in the Middle Ages (and even in the Old French original), this could very easily have been interpreted the same way that we interpret it now: they experienced EVERY joy and desire together.
The rhetoric of comrade-love is downright identical to that of heteronormative desire in other romance narratives, including narratives within the same poem, when we examine the language the two knights use to speak to each other:
When Euryalus listened and heard that Nisus wished to do such brave deeds, he was most happy and joyful over it, but he was desirous of going with him, and said, "I will not remain here, and you will not go about this business alone. How will I remain without you, or how will you go without me? For are you not I, and am I not you? I think you have lost your senses: we are one soul and one body, and one-half will go outside; how can the one remain without the other? From now on I can complain about you that you deceive me, and do not hold any love or true companionship with me. You will not go against the army without me, nor will I remain behind without you." (153)
In addition to the standard--and heteronormative--trope of one lover being unable to be separated from the other, we also see the possibly Platonic rhetoric of destined soul-mates, sharing one body and one soul. We also see a gesture, quite very queer to modern readers, of one male combatant questioning the love of his comrade for not taking him with him on his daring and risky plot to slay enemy knights. Very clearly, then, it is love for his comrade that propels Nisus to brave acts, not the quest for glory or to impress and observing beloved maiden.
During their plight, the enemy knights capture Euryalus, but Nisus is able to escape. The ensuing lover's grief that he experiences is yet another trope borrowed unapologetically and comfortably from the heternormative rhetoric of desire characteristic of romance narratives:
Nisus was so far from them that he would never have been captured. Then he remembered his companion, stopped, and looked around: he did not hear him or see him. His sorrow was not small but very great. He sighed bitterly, beat himself with his fists, and tore his hair.
"Alas, wretch, what will I do now about my friend, whom I have lost? I have kept very bad faith with him, since he is caputred or dead without me; like a coward I abandoned him. I feared death too much, and fled; but I thought he would follow me, and did not see what he was doing. Most certainly I should hae remained. I would not have felt too much cause to lament if I had died and he had lived. Euryalus, sweet friend, for love of you I will lose my life: I will never live longer than you. Ill-fated was your youth! I have given you my affection, and have lost you very quickly. Now I think I am delaying too long, for my soul is not joined with yours, which is suffering; it will be there quickly. But I think in good truth that my friend is not yet dead. I feel my heart and it is wholly alive. If he had felt the mortal pangs, my heart would likewise have felt them. It may well be that they have captured him, but they have surely not killed him. They woud never do such cruelty as to lay hand on him with evil intent. Who would touch such a creature? Ah, wretch, what an evil turn that I have escaped their hands, as if he has suffered while I am well! I will return to where I was when I parted from him. If I do not find him I will value my life little. If there is no one else who will kill me, I know well that I will kill myself. I will outlive him only a little." (157)
Once again, we see the references to being of one sould of one body, for Nisus expects that he would feel the same "pangs" of death, should Euryalus' heart cease to beat. Additionally, though, we see the rhetoric of the suicidal impulse at the prospect of having lost one's lover. This is an especially powerful sentiment since it occurs in this poem, the same one that depicts the suicide of Queen Dido, who "died for love," killing herself when Enéas departs Carthage for Italy earlier in the romance. The fact that such similar language is used suggests that the emotions between Nisus and Euryalus are meant to be interpreted as parallel, if not identical, to the heteronormative romantic love between Dido and Enéas.
When Nisus comes upon Euryalus and discovers that he is about to be killed by his captors, he pleads for his friends life:
"Whoever would touch him has a very hard heart; whoever wishes to kill him has never loved; whoever would touch such a creature has no care for true love. I will offer my head for his: if I die for him it will be most agreeable to me." (158)
Nisus' plea does little good, for the captors decapitate Euryalus in front of him, and in his pained grief, Nisus is prompted to seek vegeance for his lost friend, but is killed in the attempt.
In general, this episode from the romance shows the rather typical way in which composers of romance use the same language they use to depict heteronormative love and desire to depict same-sex comrade love, but with some basic rules: the men are always of equal status, both are privileged and elite (knights), and their love works to inspire them to acts of bravery and militaristic excellence.
My questions at this point are: Why is this kind of "queer" love tolerated or even encouraged within this genre? Why does there seem to be no anxiety or tension surronding it? What changed from the feudal context to establish codes of masculinity in which this kind of male-male affection would seem bizarre? And last, in a historical context that demonizes sodomitical behavior, how do these elite and popular poems skirt around that possible accusation? My answer to the last is that perhaps the reason has something to do with estate identity and class-based expectations of masculinity.
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