At the famous courts of love, presided over by princesses, the most extraordinary questions relating to love were discussed and decided with a ceremonial closely following the ceremonial of the petty courts of law.  Andreas preserved for us a number of these judgments, some of which prove the really quite obvious fact that love and marriage are two very different things, for if spiritual love be considered the supreme value, matrimony can only be regarded as an inferior condition.  And it was a fact that in the higher ranks of society,—­the only ones with which we are concerned,—­a marriage was nothing but a contract made for political and economical reasons.  The baron desired to enlarge his estate, obtain a dowry, or marry into an influential family; no one dreamed of consulting the future bride, whom marriage alone could bring into contact with people outside her own family.  To her marriage meant the permission to shine and be adored by a man who was not her husband.  “It is an undeniable fact,” propounded Andreas as regula amoris, “that there is no room for love between husband and wife,” and Fauriel translated a passage as follows:  “A husband who proposed to behave to his wife as a knight would to his lady, would propose to do something contrary to the canons of honour; such a proceeding could neither increase his virtue nor the virtue of his lady, and nothing could come of it but what already properly exists.”—­Another judgment maintained “that a lady lost her admirer as soon as the latter became her husband; and that she was therefore entitled to take a new lover.”  At the court of love of the Viscountess Ermengarde, of Narbonne, the problem whether the love between husband and wife or the love between lovers were the greater, was decided as follows:  “The affection between a married couple and the tender love which unites two lovers are emotions which differ fundamentally and according to custom.  It would be folly to attempt a comparison between two subjects which neither resemble each other, nor have any connection.”  A husband declared:  “It is true, I have a beautiful wife, and I love her with conjugal love.  But because true love is impossible between husband and wife, and because everything good which happens in this world has its origin in love, I am of opinion that I should seek an alliance of love outside my married life.”  All this was not frivolity, but the only logical conclusion of dualistic eroticism, incapable of blending sensuality and love.  It was equally logical that love between divorced persons was not only regarded as not immoral, but as perfectly right and justifiable; it was even decided that “a new marriage could never become a drawback to old love.”  In the old novel, Gerard of Roussillon, the princess, beloved by Gerard, is married to the emperor Charles Martel, and compelled to part from her knight.  At their last meeting, before a number of witnesses, she called on the name of Christ and said:  “Know ye all that I give my love to Sir Gerard with this ring and this flower from my chaplet.  I love him more than father and husband, and now I must weep tears of bitter sorrow.”  After this they parted, but their love continued undiminished though there was nothing between them but tender wishes and secret thoughts.