Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy

by Charles W. David

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]