Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy

by Charles W. David

FOOTNOTES

[1] Eadmer, p. 184. The letter was written from Elbeuf-sur-Andelle near Rouen, according to H. W. C. Davis before 15 October. E. H. R., xxiv, p. 729, n. 4.

[2] Ordericus, iv, pp. 231-232.

[3] “Rex siquidem cum duce Rotomagum adiit, et a civibus favorabiliter exceptus, paternas leges renovavit, pristinasque urbis dignitates restituit.” Ibid., p. 233.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid., p. 273.

[6] Ordericus, iv, pp. 234-236.

[7] Ibid., pp. 236-237.

[8] Ibid., pp. 233-234.

[9] Letter of the priest of Fécamp, in E. H. R., xxv, p. 296: “Et nunc pax in terra reddita est, Deo gratias”; Ordericus, iv, p. 232; cf. William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, p. 476; Interpolations de Robert de Torigny, in William of Jumièges, p. 284.

[10] Epistolae Anselmi, bk. iv, no. 82, in Migne, clix, cols. 242-243.

[11] Ordericus, iv, p. 269; cf. A-S. C., a. 1107.

[12] Henry of Huntingdon, p. 236; cf. A.-S. C., a. 1107; Eadmer, p. 184; Ordericus, iv, p. 274.

[13] A.-S. C., a. 1107; Eadmer, p. 184. On Henry’s itinerary in Normandy, cf. Haskins, pp. 309-310; W. Farrer, in E. H. R., xxxiv, pp. 340-341.

[14] Henry of Huntingdon, p. 236.

[15] Ordericus, iv, pp. 232, 237; but cf. Interpolations de Robert de Torigny, in William of Jumièges, p. 284, where it is stated that the king took the prisoners to England with him upon his return. Cf. also A.-S. C., a. 1106.

[16] Henry of Huntingdon, pp. 236, 255; William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, p. 475; Ordericus, iv, p. 234.

[17] Ibid., p. 237: “Fratrem vero suum … xxvii annis in carcere servavit, et omnibus deliciis abundanter pavit”; ibid., p. 402: “Fratrem vero meum non, ut captivum hostem, vinculis mancipavi, sed ut nobilem peregrinum, multis angoribus fractum, in arce regia collocavi, eique omnem abundantiam ciborum et aliarum deliciarum, variamque suppellectilem affluenter suppeditavi”; Interpolations de Robert de Torigny, in William of Jumièges, p. 284. Two entries in the Pipe Roll of 31 Henry I record the king’s expenditures for Robert’s entertainment: “Et in liberatione Archiepiscopi Rothomagensis, et in pannis Comitis Normannorum .xxiij. libras et .x. solidos numero”; “Et in Soltis, per breve Regis Fulchero filio Waltheri .xij. libras pro estructura Comitis Normannorum.” Magnus Rotulus Pipae de Anno Tricesimo-Primo Regni Henrici Primi, ed. Joseph Hunter for the Record Commission (London, 1833), pp. 144, 148; cf. Le Prévost, in Ordericus, iv, 402, n. 2.

In later years an ugly rumor was current to the effect that Henry had Robert blinded; but it rests upon no contemporary or early authority. Cf. infra, pp. 200-201.

[18] Annales Monastici, ii, p. 42. These annals also state that William of Mortain was imprisoned in the Tower of London.

[19] Ordericus, iv, p. 486; A.-S. C., a. 1126.

[20] Cf. Henry of Huntingdon, p. 236.

[21] La Chronique de Morigny, ed. Léon Mirot (Paris, 1909), p. 21: “Ludovicus, rex designatus et adhuc adolescens, quorumdam suorum collateralium consilio deceptus, ut talia gererentur assensit, patre, sapiente viro, sibi contradicente, et malum, quod postea accidit, spiritu presago sibi predicente”; Suger, Vie de Louis le Gros, p. 47: “fretusque domini regis Francorum auxilio”; William of Malmesbury (G. R., ii, p. 480) explains that Louis’s favor was gained “Anglorum spoliis et multo regis obryzo.”

[22] Ordericus, iv, p. 232. William Clito was born in 1101 at Rouen and was baptized by Archbishop William Bonne-Ame, after whom he was named. Ibid., pp. 78, 98. Cf. supra, p. 146.

[23] Ordericus, iv, p. 232.

[24] Ibid., pp. 292-293, 473; Chronicon, in Liber de Hyda, p. 308.

[25] Ordericus, iv, pp. 292-293.

[26] Ibid., pp. 464, 477, 482; Chronicon, in Liber de Hyda, p. 308.

[27] Cf. Ordericus, iv, p. 294.

[28] Wace, Roman de Rou, ii, p. 439.

[29] Ordericus, iv, pp. 293-294, 465, 472-473; Chronicon, in Liber de Hyda, p. 308.

[30] Ordericus, iv, pp. 305, 376-377; William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, p. 475; Henry of Huntingdon, p. 238; A. S.-C., a. 1112.

[31] Ordericus, iv, pp. 293-294.

[32] Ibid., p. 290.

[33] Hermann of Tournay, Liber de Restauratione S. Martini Tornacensis, in M. G. H., Scriptores, xiv, p. 284; cf. Ordericus, iv, p. 294.

[34] Supra, pp. 122, 180.

[35] Henry of Huntingdon, pp. 239-240; Chronicon, in Liber de Hyda, p. 308; Suger, Vie de Louis le Gros, pp. 85-86; Ordericus, iv, pp. 315 ff.; William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, p. 479.

[36] Ordericus, iv, passim.

[37] Ordericus, iv, pp. 291, 316; William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, p. 479; Suger, Vie de Louis le Gros, p. 90; A.-S. C., a. 1118, 1119; Henry of Huntingdon, pp. 240, 242.

[38] Ordericus, iv, p. 347; Suger, Vie de Louis le Gros, p. 91; A.-S. C., a. 1119.

[39] Ordericus, iv, pp. 354-363; Suger, Vie de Louis le Gros, p. 92; A.-S. C., a. 1119; Henry of Huntingdon, pp. 241-242. William Clito fought among the French forces and lost his palfrey, but it was returned to him next day by his cousin William Atheling as an act of courtesy.

[40] Ordericus, iv, pp. 376-378 (probably Ordericus was himself present at the council and heard the king’s speech—ibid., p. 372, n. 2); Chronicon, in Liber de Hyda, p. 310. The archbishop of Rouen arose to reply, but was howled down and refused a hearing.

[41] Ordericus, iv, pp. 398-399. The purpose of the Pope in going to Gisors was not merely to support the interests of the Clito but to bring about a settlement of all the difficulties between the kings of France and England, and reëstablish peace. The Pope also endeavored, though without success, to induce King Henry to make some concession in the ecclesiastical controversy concerning the profession of obedience by the archbishop of York to the archbishop of Canterbury. The Historians of the Church of York and its Archbishops, ed. James Raine (London, 1879-94), ii, pp. 167-172, 376-377.

[42] William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, p. 482.

[43] “Synodus ergo fidelium generaliter decernit, et a sublimitate tua, magne rex, humiliter deposcit ut Rodbertum, fratrem tuum, quem in vinculis iamdiu tenuisti, absolvas, eique et filio eius ducatum Normanniae, quem abstulisti, restituas.” Ordericus, iv, p. 399.

[44] Ibid., pp. 399-403.

[45] G. R., ii, p. 482.

[46] Achille Luchaire, Louis VI le Gros: annoles de sa vie et de son règne (Paris, 1890), p. 139, and the references there given.

[47] Ordericus, iv, p. 398; Chronicon, in Liber de Hyda, pp. 319-320.

[48] Ibid., pp. 320-321.

[49] “Solus regius esset haeres.” Henry of Huntingdon, p. 305 (Epistola de Contemptu Mundi); cf. Ordericus, iv, p. 438; William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, pp. 497-498.

[50] Ordericus, iv, pp. 438-462; Interpolations de Robert de Torigny, in William of Jumièges, pp. 294-296; Henry of Huntingdon, p. 245; cf. Davis, Normans and Angevins, p. 150.

[51] “All this hostility was on account of the son of Count Robert of Normandy named William. The same William had taken to wife the younger daughter of Fulk, count of Anjou; and therefore the king of France and all these counts and all the powerful men held with him, and said that the king with wrong held his brother Robert in durance and unjustly drove his son William out of Normandy.” A.-S. C., a. 1124; cf. Ordericus, iv, p. 440; William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, p. 498.

[52] William of Malmesbury, G. R., ii, pp. 527-528; Bullaire du pape Calixte II, ed. Ulysse Robert (Paris, 1891), ii, no. 507; Ordericus, iv, pp. 294-295, 464; A.-S. C., a. 1127. The pair were separated by eleven degrees of kinship, the Clito being descended in the fifth and Sibyl in the sixth generation from Richard the Fearless, third duke of Normandy. The pedigree is given by Ordericus, loc. cit. The king resorted to high-handed bribery in order to bring about the divorce. Cf. Le Prévost, in Ordericus, iv, p. 295, n. 1.

[53] Ordericus, iv, p. 472.

[54] Ibid., p. 474.

[55] Ibid., pp. 474-477; Suger, Vie de Louis le Gros, pp. 110-112; A.-S. C., a. 1127; Galbert of Bruges, Histoire du meurtre de Charles le Bon, comte de Flandre, ed. Henri Pirenne (Paris, 1891), passim, cf. Luchaire, Louis VI le Gros, pp. 175-176, and the references there given.

[56] A.-S. C., a. 1128; Henry of Huntingdon, pp. 247-248; letter of William Clito to Louis VI, in H. F., xv, p. 341. On the date of this letter (March 1128) see Luchaire, Louis VI le Gros, p. 188.

[57] Ibid.; Walter of Thérouanne, Vita Karoli Comitis Flandriae, in M. G. H., Scriptores, xii, p. 557; Galbert of Bruges, pp. 144-147; Ordericus, iv, pp. 480-484; Henry of Huntingdon, p. 249.

[58] Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, i, pp. 183-185. For a full discussion of the relations between the Clito and the Flemish burghers see Arthur Giry, Histoire de la ville de Saint-Omer et de ses institutions jusqu’au XIVᵉ siècle (Paris, 1877), pp. 45 ff.

[59] Ordericus, iv, pp. 481-482; A.-S. C., a. 1128; Florence of Worcester, ii, pp. 90-91; Galbert of Bruges, pp. 170-171, and n. 2, where the chronological problem is fully discussed.

[60] Ordericus, iv, p. 486.

[61] “His porro diebus Robbertus rex Anglorum legatos ad hoc monasterium direxit, petens ut pro se atque pro statu regni sui Domini clementiam exorarent, calicemque aureum quantitatis non modicae beato Benedicto per eos dirigere studuit.” Petrus Diaconus, Chronica Monasterii Casinensis, in M. G. H., Scriptores, vii, p. 791. This may very possibly be a scribal error, and the reference may really be to Henry I.

[62] A.-S. C., a. 1126: “In this same year the king caused his brother Robert to be taken from the bishop Roger of Salisbury, and committed him to his son Robert, earl of Gloucester, and had him conducted to Bristol, and there put into the castle. That was all done through his daughter’s counsel, and through her uncle, David, the Scots’ king”; cf. Interpolations de Robert de Torigny, in William of Jumièges, p. 292.

[63] Ordericus, iv, p. 486; v, pp. 18, 42; Florence of Worcester, ii, p. 95; Hist. et Cart. S. Petri Gloucestriae, i, p. 15.

[64] Known as Iolo Morganwg (1746-1826).

[65] The manuscript referred to is apparently no longer extant, the Truman Collection having been scattered early in the nineteenth century, and almost every trace of it having now disappeared. We are therefore solely indebted to Edward Williams for the preservation of this poem and its brief introduction, which together constitute the only evidence that Robert became acquainted with the Welsh language and wrote verses. The poem has been several times printed, but all texts of it derive from a single source, viz., Williams’s transcript of the Pantlliwyd manuscript. According to Mr. John Ballinger, librarian of the National Library of Wales, to whom I am indebted for the foregoing information, Williams’s statements as to the sources from which he made his copies are usually accurate, but his deductions are often uncritical and faulty.

[66] “The Severn sea, or Bristol channel, and the woody promontory of Penarth, are in full view of Cardiff castle, at the distance, in a direct line, of no more than two miles. There are on this promontory the vestiges of an old camp (Roman, I believe), on one of the banks or mounds of which, these verses suppose the apostrophized oak to be growing.” Williams, in Gentleman’s Magazine, lxiv (1794), 2, p. 982.

[67] Ibid., p. 981.

[68] Ordericus, iv, p. 486; v, pp. 18, 42; Florence of Worcester, ii, p. 95; Hist. et Cart. S. Petri Gloucestriae, i, p. 15. Robert of Torigny is in error in stating that he died at Bristol. Interpolations de Robert de Torigny, in William of Jumièges, p. 292. The date of Robert’s death is probably 3 February, as stated by the local Gloucester annals, though Robert of Torigny places it on 10 February.

[69] Hist. et Cart. S. Petri Gloucestriae, i, p. 15: “in ecclesia Sancti Petri Gloucestriae honorifice coram principali altari sepelitur”; Ordericus, iv, p. 486; v, p. 18; Interpolations de Robert de Torigny, in William of Jumièges, p. 292. The well known effigy of Robert Curthose in wood with which his tomb was later adorned is still preserved in Gloucester cathedral—the abbey church having become the cathedral upon the institution of the bishopric in 1541. It is no longer in its original position, but is in the northeast chapel, called Abbot Boteler’s chapel, off the ambulatory. It was broken into several pieces during the civil wars of Charles I, but was repaired and restored to the cathedral through the generosity of Sir Humphrey Tracey of Stanway. It was evidently still in its original position when Leland saw it in the sixteenth century. He says: “Robᵗᵘˢ. Curthoise, sonne to K. William the Conquerour, lyeth in the midle of the Presbitery. There is on his Tombe an Image of Wood paynted, made longe since his Death.” The Itinerary of John Leland the Antiquary, ed. Thomas Hearne, 3d ed. (Oxford, 1769), iv, p. 80. According to W. V. Guise the effigy is of “a date not very remote from the period at which the duke lived.” He bases his opinion upon the fact that the hauberk of chain-mail and the long surcote, as represented in the effigy, ceased to be worn after the thirteenth century. Records of Gloucester Cathedral, ed. William Bazeley (Gloucester, n. d.), i, 1, p. 101. Nothing appears to be known as to who provided for the effigy or as to the circumstances under which it was wrought. See H. J. L. J. Massé, The Cathedral Church of Gloucester: a Description of its Fabric and a brief History of the Episcopal See (London, 1910), pp. 85-86.

[70] “Rex Henricus senior dedit Deo et Sancto Petro Gloucestriae manerium suum de Rodele cum bosco et piscaria ibidem, ad inveniendum lumen ante altare magnum ibidem iugiter arsurum pro anima Roberti Curthose germani sui ibidem sepulti tempore Willelmi abbatis.” Hist. et Cart. S. Petri Gloucestriae, i, pp. 110-111. “Willelmi” is probably a scribal error for Walteri.

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CHAPTER VIII
ROBERT CURTHOSE IN LEGEND[1]

Though Robert’s life had been filled with failures and had ended in a signal disaster, his memory by no means perished with him. As a leader in the Holy War he had earned an enviable fame, which was early enhanced by legend; and if modern writers have been guilty of some exaggeration in their estimates of his merit as a crusader,[2] they have merely perpetuated unconsciously a tradition which was already well established in the literature of the later Middle Ages. William of Malmesbury, writing as early as 1125, declared that Robert gave proof of his valor on the Crusade by many wonderful feats of arms, for “neither Christian nor pagan could ever unhorse him,” and he goes on to add details about his exploits at Antioch and the honor of the kingship which was offered him at Jerusalem.[3] The more extended account of Wace is equally flattering:

Robert Ierusalem requist,

Bel se contint, maint bien i fist;

A Antioche prendre fu,

D’armes i a grant pries eu.

Pois fu a Ierusalem prendre,

Ne s’i porent paiens deffendre.

De l’estandart qu’il abati,

Ou Corberan se combati,

E des paiens que il ocist

E de l’enseigne qu’il conquist,

Qu’il pois a l’iglise dona

Que sa mere a Chaem funda,

Out il grant pries e grant enor,

E mult en parlerent plusor.[4]

And by Geoffrey Gaimar, writing about the middle of the twelfth century, he is pictured as the supreme leader of the First Crusade, disposing of the cities and lands of the conquered territory according to his pleasure:

Suz ciel nen out meillor baron.

Celui fu duc de Normendie,

Sur Normans out la seignurie.

Maint bonte e maint barnage

E maint estrange vasselage

Fist i cest duc de Normendie,

E mainte bele chevalerie.

Co fu cil ki mult bien fist,

Ierusalem sur paens prist,

Il conquist la bone cite,

Des crestiens fust alose.

Pur Curbarant kil out oscis

Entrat li duc si halt pris,

Ka rei le voleient eslire;

Esguarde ont kil seit lur sire

A Antioche la cite,

La fust tenu pur avoue.

Il la conquist com ber vaillant;

Puis la donat a Normant;

E les altres bones citez,

Si com li ducs ad divisez,

Furent parties e donees,

E les pais e les contrees.

Duc Godefrai, par son otrei,

Fust feit en Ierusalem rei;

Pur co kil ni volt remaneir,

Lui lessat; si en fist son air.[5]

The foregoing illustrations, written during the duke’s lifetime or within a generation after his death, offer a convincing demonstration of the extraordinary rapidity with which legend set to work to rehabilitate the memory of the vanquished of Tinchebray; and it will not be without interest to make at least a cursory examination of these unhistorical traditions, in so far as they reflect the duke’s reputation among the writers of the later Middle Ages. Gaston Paris has not hesitated to affirm that Robert, as a crusader, became the hero of a whole poetic cycle which has since been lost, though not without leaving traces in the literature of after times.[6] Stated in this sweeping form, the pronouncement of this distinguished scholar is perhaps an unwarrantable exaggeration; at any rate, in the present state of the evidence it can hardly be regarded as more than a bold hypothesis.[7] But if there was not, properly speaking, a Norman cycle of the Crusade of which Robert was the hero, there certainly were numerous legends which it seems worth while to bring together in such order as is possible in the arrangement of matter so scattered and fragmentary.

William of Malmesbury has sounded the keynote of Robert’s later fame as a crusader:[8] it was his personal prowess on the field of battle which most impressed itself upon the imagination of later generations. With one exception of minor importance,[9] later writers tell us little or nothing of a legendary character respecting the position and achievements of Robert at the siege of Nicaea; but his imaginary exploits in the battle of Dorylaeum (1 July 1097) begin to meet us in accounts which are almost contemporary. Robert the Monk, writing before 1107, pictures him as the saviour of the day. The Franks were all but overwhelmed and had turned in flight, and the contest would surely have ended in disaster for them, had not the count of Normandy quickly turned his charger and checked the rout by waving aloft his golden banner and calling out the inspiring battle cry, Deus vult! Deus vult![10] In the Gesta Tancredi of Ralph of Caen, written but a few years later, Robert appears as a hero whose valor surpassed even that of the great Bohemond; for in the crisis of the battle, remembering who he was and the royal blood which flowed in his veins, he turned upon his fleeing comrades and shouted: “O Bohemond! why do you fly? Apulia and Otranto and the confines of the Latin world are far away. Let us stand fast. Either the victor’s crown or a glorious death awaits us: glory will there be in either fate, but it will be the greater glory which makes us sooner martyrs. Therefore, strike, O youths, and let us fall upon them and die if need be!”[11] And with that the flight was halted. Henry of Huntingdon puts a similar speech into the mouth of Robert, and gives an even more wonderful account of his exploits in the battle. In Henry’s story, when Robert had finished speaking, he charged upon a paynim king and with one mighty thrust of his lance pierced his shield, armor, and body; then he felled a second and a third of the infidels.[12] And from Henry of Huntingdon the account of Robert’s prowess on the field of Dorylaeum was handed on with slight modification from writer to writer throughout the mediaeval period.[13]

The further legendary exploits of Robert Curthose are in the main connected with the great battles at Antioch by which the Christians drove off the successive relief forces which the Moslems sent against them, first the army of Ridwan of Aleppo (9 February 1098) and then the host of Kerboga of Mosul (28 June 1098). Actually Robert seems to have taken no part in the earlier battle;[14] but in the account of the admiring Henry of Huntingdon, we find him leading the first division in the action, and, with a single blow of his mighty sword, splitting head, teeth, neck, and even the shoulders (usque in pectora) of a pagan warrior.[15] And while this feat of arms, like the exploits at Dorylaeum, appears to be unknown to the poems of the Godfrey cycle, it was taken up and passed on by English and Norman writers to the close of the Middle Ages.[16] Indeed, new and grotesque exaggerations were added to it. Presently we learn that Robert not only split the paynim’s head and a portion of his body, but his shield and his helmet also; that he slew him even as one slaughters a sheep; and that as the body fell to earth the victor cried aloud commending its blood-stained soul to all the minions of Tartarus![17] One would have thought this sufficient, surely, but another version tells us that Godfrey came to Robert’s assistance, and with a second blow cleft the unfortunate pagan in twain, so that one half of his body fell to the ground while his charger bore the other in among the infidels![18]

It was however in the later battle with Kerboga that, according to the legends, Robert performed his greatest feat of arms. The trustworthy accounts tells us merely that he led the third division in action.[19] But William of Malmesbury has represented him as attacking the great Kerboga himself, while the latter was rallying the Moslem forces, and slaying him.[20] And this tradition was preserved in England and in Normandy without elaboration throughout the twelfth century.[21] Wace seems to mention the incident, but without any indication that Kerboga was killed by Robert;[22] and in this he is in agreement with the earliest extant version of the Godfrey cycle, the so-called Chanson d’Antioche, which narrates the exploit in truly epic form:

The count of Normandy was of right haughty mien;

Full armed he sat upon his steed of dappled gray.

He dashed into the mêlée like a leopard;

And his doughty vassals followed him;

There was wrought great slaughter of accursed Saracens.

Kerboga was seated before his standard;

Richly was he armed, he feared neither lance nor dart;

From his neck a rich buckler was suspended;

His helmet was forged in the city of ‘Baudart’;

A carbuncle burned upon the nasal;

A strong, stiff lance he bore, and a scimitar;

Upon the shield which swung from his neck a parrot was painted.[23]

Kerboga advanced with serried ranks.

When the count saw him he too advanced upon him,

And smote him such a blow upon his buckler

That he threw him, legs in air, into the press.[24]

Now he would have cut off his head, but he was too late;

For Persians and ‘Acopars’ came to the rescue,

And bore their lord away to his standard.[25]

The Chanson d’ Antioche also narrates another spectacular exploit in which Robert overthrew and slew the great emir ‘Red Lion’ during the same battle;[26] but this episode seems not to have been repeated in other compilations, and it occupies a far less important place in the Chanson d’ Antioche than has been supposed by modern writers, who have sought to trace a connection between it and the Robert medallion in Suger’s famous stained glass window at Saint-Denis.[27] The later compilation of the Godfrey matter, edited by Reiffenberg, contains no mention of Robert’s combat either with Kerboga or with Red Lion; but it relates a very similar exploit in which he overcame a ‘Saracen king of Tabarie.’ With his lance at the thrust, and raising the triumphant war cry “Normandy!”, he bore down upon the Saracen with such force that he pierced his shield a full palm’s breadth and a half, and wounded him deeply “between lungs and liver.”[28] Finally, mention must be made of Robert’s prowess in the legendary battle on the plain of Ramleh before Jerusalem, as told in the fantastic account of the Chanson de Jérusalem. This time it was a Turkish King Atenas whom he slew, and many others besides, so that the ground was strewn with the enemy dead. But at last he was surrounded and all but overborne by numbers. His horse was struck down under him, and it was only after desperate fighting against almost hopeless odds that he was finally rescued, when bleeding from many wounds, by his fellow princes.[29]

Thus the Robert Curthose of the legends enjoyed a marvellous repute for warlike prowess; and when Jerusalem had at last been won, his valor was rewarded, we are told, with an offer of the crown of the Latin Kingdom, which he promptly rejected.[30] Resting upon no valid contemporary authority,[31] this tradition arose very early, and lent itself to strange distortions as it passed from author to author. It appears first in William of Malmesbury,[32] but it is also to be found before the middle of the twelfth century in Henry of Huntington[33] and in the Historia Belli Sacri.[34] In its simplest form it long continued to be repeated by both English and Norman writers.[35] But it also developed strange variations. As has elsewhere been explained, the position of ruler at Jerusalem was actually offered to Count Raymond of Toulouse and declined by him before the election of Godfrey.[36] Perhaps we have here the historical basis of the tradition that the crown was offered to Robert. It seems possible to trace the growth of the legend. By Albert of Aix it is said that when the honor had been declined by Raymond it was offered in turn to each of the other chiefs, and that the humble Godfrey was prevailed upon to accept it only when all the others had refused.[37] In the Chanson de Jérusalem the matter has gone much further. According to this version, Godfrey was first elected by general acclamation of the people, but modestly declined the honor and responsibility. Then the crown was offered to the count of Flanders, to Robert Curthose, to Bohemond, and so in turn to the other leaders, until all had declined; whereupon it was decided to seek divine guidance through the ancient miracle of the holy fire which was accustomed to descend at Jerusalem each year at Easter tide. Accordingly the barons assembled in the church of the Holy Sepulchre, each with an unlighted taper. In the darkness of the night a single candle burned within the great basilica. At midnight a fierce storm arose with lightning, wind, and thunder. The sole light was extinguished. The whole edifice was plunged in darkness. The barons were filled with fear. Suddenly there was another flash from heaven, and it was observed that Godfrey’s taper was burning brightly. The divine will had expressed itself, and the good duke of Bouillon bowed before it.[38] Clearly it was in Godfrey’s honor that this legend of a miraculous designation first arose. Yet in the late twelfth or early thirteenth century it was said by Ralph Niger that it was Robert’s candle which was lighted by the miraculous flame.[39] And once so told, the legend in this form was handed on from writer to writer to the close of the Middle Ages.[40] Langtoft, indeed, declares that Robert was thrice designated by the holy fire.[41]

The miracle as told in Robert’s favor, however, involved a logical difficulty which met with a characteristically mediaeval solution. According to early tradition Robert had refused to accept the crown of Jerusalem. The explanation offered by the Historia Belli Sacri is natural and reasonable. Said Robert: “Although I have come hither in God’s service, yet have I not abandoned my county altogether, in order to remain here. And now that I have fulfilled my vow, if God permits, I desire to return to my own dominions.”[42] But if Robert had been chosen for the kingship of Jerusalem by divine will and favor, as was almost universally believed, how was it possible that he should reject such a token of heavenly grace without committing a sin and incurring divine displeasure? Did not the disasters which so quickly overtook him make it abundantly clear that the divine favor had departed from him? This, indeed, was the mediaeval explanation. In refusing the Latin crown, Robert had contemned and spurned the gift of God. Hence his defeat at Tinchebray and wellnigh thirty years of incarceration. No feature of the Robert legends was more persistent or more universally accepted than this. Appearing first in Henry of Huntingdon, it is repeated again and again to the close of the mediaeval period.[43]

It remains to notice the legends of pathetic interest which concern themselves not with Robert’s prowess as a crusader but with the tragedy of his long imprisonment. It seems clear that Henry I began by keeping his fallen brother in free custody and treating him with remarkable liberality.[44] Indeed, one tradition has preserved a not unattractive picture of the easy conditions under which Robert was allowed to live, his food and clothing and daily exercise and amusements all bounteously and richly provided for him.[45] Yet, strange to say, the official historian of the reign of Henry II makes the statement—if indeed it is to be found no earlier than this—that the king had his brother blinded;[46] and this ugly tale soon spread far and wide and came to be very generally accepted.[47] But how account for such cruel and inhuman treatment from a king of such eminent justice and virtue as Henry I? Another legend soon supplied the needed explanation. Geoffrey de Vigeois, writing before 1184, informs us that Henry had released Robert upon certain conditions, and that the latter, violating the agreement, had levied a force against the king and had been captured a second time; and he adds the significant statement that he did not need to be captured a third time (et tertio opus non fuit).[48] In the versions of Matthew Paris and in the related Flores Historiarum this legend has been elaborated into an episode which is not without its ludicrous as well as its tragic aspects. Friends of Robert, weighty men, had early protested to the king against the duke’s imprisonment. It would disgrace the king and the realm of England throughout the world, they said, if a brother should hold a brother in long incarceration. And so they prevailed upon the king to grant Robert’s release, upon condition that the latter renounce all claim to both Normandy and England and depart from the realm within a period of forty days. But instead of going, Robert took advantage of his liberty to conspire with the earl of Chester and others, with intent to raise an army and drive Henry from the throne. But the plot was discovered, and the king sent messengers to summon Robert before him. When the duke saw them approaching, he turned and fled, but his palfrey ran into the mire and stuck fast, and so the unfortunate fugitive was taken. And when the king learned what had happened, he ordered his brother to be placed in close and perpetual confinement without any hope of release, and had him deprived of his sight.[49]

Nevertheless, Henry continued to provide Robert with the best of daily food and with royal vestments.[50] And this brings us to the tale of the scarlet robe, with which our account of the Robert legends may fittingly end. “It so happened that on a feast day, when the king was getting himself a new scarlet robe, and according to his custom was sending one of the same stuff to his brother, he tried to put on the hood, and finding the neck so small that he ripped one of the seams, he said, ‘Take this hood to my brother, for his head is smaller than mine.’ And when it was brought to Robert, he put it on, and immediately discovered the rent, which the tailor had carelessly neglected to mend, for it was very small; and he said, ‘Whence comes this rent which I feel?’ And the king’s messenger laughingly told him all that had happened. Then the duke cried aloud, as if he had been deeply wounded, and said, ‘Alas! alas! now have I lived too long. Why do I still continue to draw out my unhappy days? Behold my brother, even my betrayer and supplanter, now treats me with contempt, and holds me so cheap that he sends me for alms as his dependant his old and torn clothes.’ And weeping bitterly he vowed thenceforth to take no more food, nor would he drink; but he raged against himself, and wasted away. And so he died, cursing the day of his birth.”[51]