Dr. Reddy: I teach history at Duke University, where I’ve been for a
long time, and I also have a secondary appointment in anthropology
there, and I tend to what I’ve, I try do kind of the anthropology of the
past, you know. I work as an ethnographer looking at the past. Very
common for historians to work that way these days. My field is French
history. Up until about ten years ago, I worked mostly on the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and then ten years ago I went out
in search of the, trying to understand where romantic love came from,
and I ended up working, doing a book on the twelfth century. The reason
I did that is because I have, for about twenty years now, been working
on the history of emotions, and it’s kind of a new field for
historians. We didn’t realize before that emotions change over time,
and I think not just the way people talk about emotions or think about
them, but also the way people experience their own responses to the
world change over time. I became interested in romantic love because it
seemed to me the, the, a way of getting at the relation between
emotions and sexuality. To look at that history a little more closely
struck me as something really exciting, and as soon as I started looking
at it, I realized that a huge change had occurred in the twelfth
century, and that was really where the action was in, in, in the history
of romantic love, so –
Sarah: So –
Dr. Reddy: – that’s why I wrote a book about it.
Sarah: Well, I think that’s a perfectly adequate response to finding something: write a book about it. I mean, that –
Dr. Reddy: [Laughs]
Sarah: – that’s totally what you should do. I think that’s in your
professional mandate, actually. As a professor, you have, you kind of
have to. Sorry, dude! You’ve got to write a book! So –
Dr. Reddy: I thought it was rather quixotic of me to switch from the eighteenth to the twelfth century. [Laughs]
Sarah: Oh, it’s not that big of a jump! You know, it’s just a
couple years. So I have two questions: one, how do you trace the
history of emotions? Are you looking at what people are writing down?
Are you looking at poetry? Are you looking at diaries or personal
accounts? Because, as I understand the difference between history and
anthropology, history is, well, these people went here at this date, and
at this time, these people were located here, and at that time, these
people were located here, whereas anthropology is, okay, so all you
dudes were in this place. How did that affect random farmer dude who’s
lived here for fifty years?
Dr. Reddy: Hmm, yeah.
Sarah: Is that, is that about right? So, like, history is the dates
of when people did stuff, and anthropology is how the individual,
nameless, forgotten, non-historical figure experienced that time.
Dr. Reddy: Oh, well, we historians have been really trying to catch
up and study the forgotten people in the last couple of, oh, in the last
fifty years or so.
Sarah: Right, exactly.
Dr. Reddy: And we are very interested in how people’s understanding
of the world changes and how their everyday practice change, practices
change across time.
Sarah: And emotions are part of that.
Dr. Reddy: Yeah, yeah. So, we tend to, a lot of people do now
what’s called cultural history, which is to study the history of what
the anthropologists study in the present. Everyday habits of mind,
everyday practices, rituals, language. It includes literature and
diaries and anything else that people might engage in, but as historians
we need, we prefer to have some texts so we can, some documents so we
can understand more, better, what, what people were, were saying and
thinking.
Sarah: So what types of texts do you use to trace the history of emotions?
Dr. Reddy: Well, it’s interesting that if you look at moral
literature, conduct manuals, polite, manuals of politeness and so on,
they have a lot to say about emotions, so there’s a long history of, a
long tradition of literature telling you how to feel. Then there are
works of art and of literature which show us characters feeling things.
Then there are diaries, there are journals, there are private letters.
Account books sometimes can be useful, which tell us how private people
actually express their emotions, at least in writing. In all these
ways, we get information about emotions that, you know, that allow us to
piece together, you know, make good guesses about what people were
actually feeling at a given time.
Sarah: So what brought you to the twelfth century?
Dr. Reddy: Well, apparently everyone agrees that in the twelfth
century the way in which love was written about in literature changed
drastically. But there’s a lot, there’s a huge debate that’s been going
on for decades about why this happened. Before the twelfth century,
romantic love is regarded as a weakness. This is true of the ancient
Greeks and Romans and of the Christians who came along af-, in their
wake. Romantic love, if you see literary treatments of it from the
ancient world, it’s something that interferes with the performance of
one’s duty. And so, you know, example would be in the Iliad.
Paris, who has been given Helen by Aphrodite in gratitude for his
judging her as the most beautiful goddess, Paris is a really bad
warrior, and when he’s about to be defeated, Aphrodite saves him from
the battlefield and whisks him off to Troy where, into Helen’s
bedchamber, where he can do what he does better, which is make love.
And another wonderful text that, that kind of exemplifies this attitude
is the Life of Marcus Antonius by, by Plutarch, in which Mark
Antony, as he’s sometimes known to English speakers, falls in love with
Cleopatra, and as soon as he does, he becomes a bad general, timid, he
runs from battle and loses the empire to Octavian, so –
Sarah: Oh, dear.
Dr. Reddy: – these are just examples of how being in love, in the
ancient world, was regarded as something that would result in poor
behavior, a lack of moral fiber.
Sarah: So falling in love turned you into a giant wuss who ran battle –
Dr. Reddy: Yeah.
Sarah: – and completely decimated your army?
Dr. Reddy: [Laughs] Exactly. But then, starting in the twelfth
century, we suddenly have the image of the knight in shining armor who
rescues his belo-, who becomes a better warrior because he is in love.
Rescues his beloved, saves the kingdom – being in love becomes a, a,
with a, with a refined lady becomes a, something that’s expected of
knights by the, in the code of chivalry that, that reigned over the
behavior of the military elite for three or four centuries there, and
since that time, in literature, romantic love is often treated, perhaps
predominantly treated, as something that inspires heroism, something
that can make us better. I mean, there’s a wonderful, wonderful hip-hop
tune of 2007 by Fabolous called “Make Me Better,” and it’s all about
how his woman makes him a better man. That is the theme, that is a
theme that’s central to treatments of romantic love in literature and
the arts since the twelfth century, but not before. So that was the
question that, why that happened, that was the question that, that
really got me interested in the twelfth century.
Sarah: What did you find? What, what do you see as the cause of
elevating the idea of emotional love and heroism through being in love?
Dr. Reddy: I became convinced that the, the, this, this shift in
love literature reflected a shift in practices as well and that both of
these shifts were kind of a, a resistance to or rebellion against the
teachings of the church. You know, this is, this is something – a lot
of people would dismiss this and say, well, the church had been teaching
that sex was bad for 800 years at that point, which is true. Well,
I’ve got a quote for you. Do you want to hear what Saint Jerome said
about, about sexuality?
Sarah: Bring it!
Dr. Reddy: He said, “The wise man loves his wife with judgment, not
with affection. Let not the impulse of pleasure reign in him, nor the
proclivity toward intercourse. Nothing is more foul than to love a wife
as an adulteress.” [Laughs]
Sarah: DUDE! Oh, no.
Dr. Reddy: Yeah.
Sarah: You know, a lot of the people who listen to this podcast are
romance authors, and I think they’re all yelling in unison right now.
Dr. Reddy: [Laughs]
Sarah: NO! No, no, no!
Dr. Reddy: Jerome went on to say the generation of children is
conceited in matrimony, but pleasures which are seized in the embraces
of prostitutes are condemned in wives.
Sarah: Oh, dear Lord. Poor wives!
Dr. Reddy: So he, he was making these pronouncements, and other theologians were agreeing, in the fourth century.
Sarah: Oh, Lordy.
Dr. Reddy: But what happened in the twelfth century is that the
church actually tried to enforce this view of sexual pleasure by making,
by issuing a whole set of new rules, which had the force of law –
Sarah: Yikes.
Dr. Reddy: – about marriage and sexuality. They began to preach in
the twelfth century that any consent to sexual pleasure was sinful,
period. It didn’t matter if you were married or not; to enjoy sex was
sinful. The only debate was whether it was bad, really sinful, or just
slightly sinful when you’re married.
Sarah: Wow.
Dr. Reddy: And of course there was only one position, and that was
the position, the only position allowed was the one that would promote
reproduction, ‘cause that was the only reason to, to do it. You know,
anyone who felt enthusiastic about a sexual partner, according to
twelfth century theologians, was just someone who was in the grip of a
temptation, driven by an appetite of the body, an appetite for sexual
pleasure. They think that’s a wonderful person, but they’re just
fooling themselves. It’s not, they’re not really out to have a
relationship; they’re just out to get in bed, whether they know it or
not. This is where I see the, the new celebration of love coming in,
because what you see in stories, love stories of the twelfth century,
you see figures who prove that they are not motivated by mere desire.
They prove it by selfless acts of heroism, loyalty, self-denial, and
then once they have proven it, they, you know, in effect, render their
relationship, they demonstrate that their relationship is innocent and
good, and then sex is okay.
Sarah: So the emotional establishment of a healthy and loving ardor for someone comes before the sexual intercourse.
Dr. Reddy: Yes, in, in, in twelfth century, and generally in, in
medieval, in medieval literature, if it’s, if it’s, you know, what’s
called courtly love literature, that is, literature that celebrates
romantic love – there’s, there’s, there’s a lot of satire also that’s
written which, which doesn’t, which really sides with the church –
[Laughter]
Dr. Reddy: It just made fun of people’s pretensions – but in the
literature that celebrates romantic love, the lovers generally, yeah,
have to prove their devotion prior to getting into bed.
Sarah: So you have to earn it.
Dr. Reddy: Yes, exact-
Sarah: All right, all the romance authors are cheering again, so we’re good.
…
Dr. Reddy: So this posed a real problem for aristocratic women
preserving the kinds of political power they had had before, and I think
this too helped to feed a general underground sense of resistance to
the new doctrines or the new rules about marriage. The typical lovers
of the twelfth century are a younger aristocratic male in love with a
female lady who is his superior, and this love relationship is, that,
that is celebrated is adulterous.
Sarah: So one of them is cheating, and she is –
Dr. Reddy: Yeah.
Sarah: – higher than him in status.
Dr. Reddy: Exactly.
Sarah: So this is like the, this is sort of the origin story of Super Mario, who has to go and, go rescue a princess.
Dr. Reddy: Yeah! Perfect!
Sarah: All of these patterns of someone who is working class going after some-, a female who is higher class.
Dr. Reddy: Sure, yeah.
Sarah: They, they sort of have their origins in the twelfth century.
Dr. Reddy: Absolutely. It’s –
Sarah: Well, that’s cool!
Dr. Reddy: The, the, the Lancelot/Guinevere relationship is –
Sarah: Right.
Dr. Reddy: – is the kind of archetype of this. Lancelot is a loyal
knight of King Arthur. He’s in love with the queen. King Arthur being a
good twelfth-century literary figure, you know, is not jealous.
Jealousy is condemned in the most uncertain terms in twelfth-century
literature. King Arthur is not jealous; he doesn’t pay much attention
to what his queen does. She’s kidnapped, Lancelot goes to save her,
once he has saved her and also proven he will be a loyal, a loyal and
submissive lover to her, she permits him to have a tryst with her.
Sarah: Whoa.
Dr. Reddy: Yeah. I see the Lancelot plot echoed in many, many contemporary love stories. I’m thinking of Casablanca or Pretty Woman. These are all variations on the Lancelot story, to my eyes, now that I’ve studied all this stuff.
Sarah: [Laughs] You see it everywhere, and you can’t unsee it?
Dr. Reddy: I see it everywhere, yeah.
Sarah: I can’t unsee it! It’s everywhere!
Dr. Reddy: You know, something like the movie, what’s it called, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?
Here we have a guy who heroically tries to save his memories of his
girlfriend from the onslaught of this neuroscientific memory-erasing
machine – [laughs] – and just barely manages to do so, end up giving it
another try. That’s a good example, to me, of twelfth century
conception, that you prove your love is true by some kind of heroic
effort, and then that ensures that the relationship is a spiritual or
holy one.