Eleanor of Aquitaine: A Life by
Alison Weir
My rating: 3.75 stars
My original interest in this book was to fill out some of my historical context surrounding troubadours, and to be sure, there are plenty of references to these poet-composers of southern France in relation to their poetic chronicles of Eleanor of Aquitaine. The quote from the Boston Globe on the covers says, "An alluringly candid portrait of this most public yet elusive of medieval women." To this, I say, "sort of." It isn't Weir's fault -- the records just aren't there (unsurprisingly -- "elusive" is correct). Weir makes do with a wonderful host of historical accounts and primary sources, but the net result is that a good proportion of the book is NOT about Eleanor of Aquitaine, but instead Henry II, and the various Kings (including first husband Louis VII), archbishops, dukes, etc. Once Henry dies in Weir's narrative, however, Eleanor gets more air time (and I think this likely aligns with the historical record as well). So, in a way, I think the book is a meta-reflection of the documentation upon which it rests.
That said, the real mark of a good history book is to get you interested in that which you didn't know you were interested! Weir achieves this in her thorough narrative of the personalities, unions, rivalries, etc that make up 12th-century France and England. There's enough about Eleanor that Weir's main point is illuminated: "[Eleanor of Aquitaine] came into her own at an age when most women were either dead or long in retirement, and ruled as capably as any man. She was no shrinking violet, but a tough, capable, and resourceful woman who travelled widely throughout the known world and was acquainted with most of the great figures of the age." (346). The details of that narrative are worth reading. This is a revision of the heretofore widely accepted tropes of Eleanor as "wicked queen" and "adultress."
It is generally a really great chronicle of the status of women in the medieval period, especially royal women who were seen as barter for various diplomatic transactions. The double standards abound when it comes to marital infidelity, and one has to chuckle at the charges of consanguinity leveled at both of Eleanor's marriages -- the charming handwritten genealogical tables at the back of the book come in handy.
One consistent issue I had is that Weir often describes various figures in a formula that seems to be: extol their prowess and strength, then debunk/contradict it with various accounts of their hubris and in some cases, real lack of humanity. This often takes place in the span of two short paragraphs. For example, in describing King John (as just one example), Weir tells us that he received a lot of bad press, but that recent studies show "he was a gifted administrator who showed a concern for justice...he showed real concern for his kingdom." She goes on to tell us that the "Exchequer, Chancery, and law courts began to function more effectively" and that he "took a more than ordinary interest in the welfare of his common subjects." (318-319). In the very next paragraph, however, we are offered a quote from a chronicler that he was "but a plunderer of his own people, trusting strangers rather than his subjects, wherefore he was eventually deserted by his own men and, in the end, little mourned." (319). This seems to be a regular narrative approach in describing all the main male figures of the historical narrative. I appreciate that these men very likely did have a rather incongruous set of qualities/vices, but the repeated structure in the narrative felt like pop-up instances of whiplash, rather than relating the understandable complexity.
I found myself wondering about some of the other women in the book--particularly Eleanor's daughter in law Berengaria (wife of Richard I), who seemed the most untainted by folly and foibles. This is, as I said, a strength of the book. Weir's research and gifts for writing draw you in to the medieval trials and tribulations of the various bloodlines of French and English royalty.
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