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Love is a powerful emotion. Throughout history couples in love have caused wars and
controversy, created masterpieces in writing, music, and art, and have captured the
hearts of the public with the power of their bonds. From the allure of Cleopatra to the
magnetism of the Kennedy's, these love affairs have stood as markers in history.
Prepare to swoon over these love stories of the centuries.
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We've heard of the Wall—no, not that one, the 2nd Century AD one stretching across
England—but what about Emperor Hadrian's heart? He lost it to Antinous (far left),
an intelligent and sports-loving Greek student. The emperor displayed "an obsessive
craving for his presence." The two traveled together, pursuing their love of hunting;
Hadrian once saved his lover's life during a lion hunt. The emperor even wrote erotic
poetry. While visiting the Nile, Antinous drowned mysteriously, but some say he was
murdered by those jealous of the emperor's devotion. The devastated Hadrian
proclaimed Antinous a deity, ordered a city be built in his honor, and named a star
after him, between the Eagle and the Zodiac.
Rarely has a woman served as such profound inspiration for a writer—and yet he
barely knew her. The Italian poet Dante Alighieri wrote passionately of Beatrice in
the Divine Comedy and other poems, but only met the object of his affection twice.
The first time, he was nine years old and she was eight. The second time, they were
adults, and while walking on the street in Florence, Beatrice, an emerald-eyed
beauty, turned and greeted Dante before continuing on her way. Beatrice died at age
24 in 1290 without Dante ever seeing her again. Nonetheless, she was "the glorious
lady of my mind," he wrote, and "she is my beatitude, the destroyer of all vices and
the queen of virtue, salvation."
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In 1730, a Parisian prophetess told a nine-year-old girl she would rule the heart of a
king. Years later, at a masked ball, Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, dressed as a domino,
danced with King Louis XV, dressed as a tree. Within weeks, the delicate beauty
was maîtresse-en-titre, given the title Marquise de Pompadour. "Any man would
have wanted her as his mistress," said another male admirer. The couple indulged in
their love of art, furniture, and porcelain, with Madame de Pompadour arranging for
her jaded royal lover small dinner parties and amateur theatricals in which she would
star (of course). While watching one play, Louis XV declared, "You are the most
delicious woman in France," before sweeping her out of the room.
Abigail Smith married the Founding Father at age 20, gave birth to five children
(including America's fifth president, John Quincy Adams), and was John Adams's
confidante, political advisor, and First Lady. The more than 1,000 letters they wrote
to each other offer a window into John and Abigail's mutual devotion and abiding
friendship. It was more than revolutionary political ideals that kept them so united;
they shared a trust and abiding tenderness. Abigail wrote: "There is a tye more
binding than Humanity, and stronger than Friendship ... and by this chord I am not
ashamed to say that I am bound, nor do I [believe] that you are wholly free from it."
As for John, he wrote: "I want to hear you think, or see your Thoughts. The
Conclusion of your Letter makes my Heart throb, more than a Cannonade would.
You bid me burn your Letters. But I must forget you first."
When the young Romantic poet Percy Shelley met Mary Godwin, she was the teenage
daughter of a famous trailblazing feminist, the long-dead Mary Wollstonecraft. The
two of them shared a love of the mind—"Soul meets soul on lovers' lips," he wrote—
but physical desire swept them away too, consummated near the grave of Mary's
mother. When they ran away to Europe, it caused a major scandal, but the couple
proclaimed themselves indifferent to judgment. "It was acting in a novel, being an
incarnate romance," she later said. They traveled together to visit the debauched
Lord Byron, and Mary wrote Frankenstein during two weeks in Switzerland. After
Percy died in a boating accident in 1822, Mary never remarried. She said having been
married to a genius, she could not marry a man who wasn't one.