Chapter VIII: Robert Curthose in Legend1

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]

FOOTNOTES

[1] This chapter makes no pretence of being based upon an exhaustive examination of all the sources. Scattered as these are through the historical and romantic literature of several centuries, it is not unlikely that important printed materials have been overlooked, while many manuscripts of the poetic cycle of the Crusade still lie unprinted. It is hoped, however, that enough material has been found and used to give an adequate view of the legendary accretions which gathered about Robert’s name, and to throw an interesting light upon the repute in which he was held in after times.

[2] See _supra_, p. 118, and n. 156.

[3] _G. R._, ii, pp. 460-461; cf. the superlatives of William of Newburgh, writing at the end of the twelfth century: “Qui tamen armis tantus fuit, ut in ilia magna et famosa expeditione Ierosolymitana in fortissimos totius orbis procres clarissimae militiae titulis fulserit.” _Historia Rerum Anglicarum_, ed. H. C. Hamilton (London, 1856), i, p. 15.

[4] _Roman de Rou_, ii, pp. 415-416.

[5] _Lestorie des Engles_, ed. T. D. Hardy and C. T. Martin (London, 1888-89), i, pp. 244-245.

[6] “Le duc de Normandie a été, en tant que croisé, le héros de tout un cycle poétique qui s’est perdu, mais non sans laisser des traces.” “Robert Court-Heuse à la première croisade,” in _Comptes rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres_, 1890, 4th series, xviii, p. 208.

[7] Gaston Paris (_op. cit._, p. 211, n. 3) believes that the Robert legend was extinguished first by Robert’s disastrous and inglorious end, and second by the growing popularity of the Godfrey cycle. He thinks that the “lutte des deux traditions poétiques, de provenances différentes, dont l’une avait pour héros Robert et l’autre Godefroi” can be seen in an episode of the _Chanson d’Antioche_ which may be briefly paraphrased as follows. Godfrey, “because he is _preux_ and courageous and of the lineage of Charlemagne,” has just been chosen to represent the Christian army in a proposed single combat with a champion from Kerboga’s host; on hearing which Robert is so incensed at being himself passed over that he prepares to withdraw with his forces from the crusading army. Compared with his own splendid lineage, the ancestors of Godfrey, he declares, are not worth a button. Thereupon the descent of Godfrey from the Chevalier au Cygne is explained to him. And then Godfrey himself comes and humbles himself before Robert and expresses his willingness to yield the honor to him. At that Robert is mollified and consents to remain. _La Chanson d’ Antioche_, ed. Paulin Paris (Paris, 1848), ii, pp. 177-183. It is difficult to see where support for Paris’s theory can be found in the matter thus summarized. All that concerns Robert, it seems clear, exists not for itself at all, but as a mere literary foil for setting off the merits of Godfrey and his descent from the Chevalier au Cygne. The evidence of the Saint-Denis window which Gaston Paris cites must be ruled out. See Appendix G.

The _Chanson d’ Antioche_, in the form in which we now have it, is held to have been composed early in the reign of Philip Augustus by Grandor of Douai, a Flemish _trouvère_, upon the basis of an earlier poem, now lost, by Richard le Pèlerin, a minstrel who actually took part in the First Crusade. _Histoire littéraire de la France_, xxii (1852), pp. 355-356; Auguste Molinier, _Les sources de l’histoire de France_ (Paris, 1901-06), no. 2154.

[8] _Supra_, p. 190.

[9] _Li estoire de Jérusalem et d’ Antioche_, in _H. C. Oc._, v, pp. 629-630. This chronicle, in old French prose of the second half of the thirteenth century, is based ultimately upon Fulcher of Chartres, but it is filled with matter of a purely imaginary character. It seems to contain almost no points of contact with the other sources from which the Robert legends are to be drawn. It represents Robert as taking part in the battle with Kilij Arslan at Nicaea—actually Robert had not yet arrived at Nicaea—and overthrowing him and taking his horse. It also portrays Robert as the principal leader at Nicaea, and the one to whom Kilij Arslan sent the messenger Amendelis to open negotiations.

[10] _H. C. Oc._, iii, p. 761; cf. the fifteenth century _Anonymi Rhenani Historia et Gesta Ducis Gotfredi_, _ibid._, v, p. 454.

[11] _H. C. Oc._, iii, p. 622. Ralph’s whole account of the battle is almost epic in character; cf. the poems (pp. 625-629) devoted to the exploits of individual heroes, and especially the two lines on p. 627:

Rollandum dicas Oliveriumque renatos,
Si comitum spectes hunc hasta, hunc ense, furentes.

[12] P. 221.

[13] _Chronique de Robert de Torigni_, i, pp. 82-83; Ralph de Diceto, _Opera Historica_, ed. William Stubbs (London, 1876), i, p. 222; Roger of Wendover, _Flores Historiarum_, ed. H. O. Coxe (London, 1841-44), ii, p. 87; Matthew Paris, _Chronica Maiora_, ed. H. R. Luard (London, 1872-83), ii, p. 64; idem, _Historia Minor_, ed. Frederick Madden (London, 1866-69), i, pp. 85-86; _Flores Historiarum_, ed. H. R. Luard (London, 1890), ii, p. 29; _Le livere de reis de Brittanie e le livere de reis de Engletere_, ed. John Glover (London, 1865), p. 166; Robert of Gloucester, _Metrical Chronicle_, ed. W. A. Wright (London, 1887), ii, pp. 585-586; Thomas Walsingham, _Y podigma Neustriae_, ed. H. T. Riley (London, 1876), p. 79.

[14] _Supra_, p. 106.

[15] P. 224.

[16] _Chronique de Robert de Torigni_, i, p. 84; Ralph de Diceto, i, p. 223; Matthew Paris, _Chronica Maiora_, ii, p. 74; _Flores Historiarum_, ii, p. 29; Robert of Gloucester, ii, p. 591; Walsingham, _Y podigma_, p. 80. See also the references given in nn. 17 and 18 _infra_.

[17] Roger of Wendover, ii, p. 103; Matthew Paris, _Historia Minor_, i, p. 102.

[18] _Le livere de reis_, p. 168.

[19] _Supra_, pp. 107-108.

[20] _G. R._, ii, p. 460.

[21] Geoffrey Gaimar, in the extract quoted on p. 191, _supra_; _Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi_, ed. William Stubbs (London, 1867), i, p. 329; cf. Roger of Hoveden, i, p. 274.

[22] _Roman de Rou_, as quoted on p. 191, _supra_.

[23] The reading and the meaning are here uncertain. I follow the conjecture of the editor.

[24] “Le trebuche el begart.” According to Godefroy (_Dictionnaire de l’ancienne langue française_) the meaning of _begart_ is undetermined. Again I follow the conjecture of the editor.

[25] _Chanson d’ Antioche_, ii, pp. 245-246.

[26] _Ibid._, p. 261. Red Lion is perhaps to be identified with Kilij Arslan, sultan of Iconium.

[27] Paul Riant and Ferdinand de Mély, in _Revue de l’art chrétien_, 1890, pp. 299-300. Their view has been rightly rejected by Gaston Paris in _Comptes rendus de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres_, 1890, p. 208. See Appendix G. In _Le Chevalier au Cygne et Godefroid de Bouillon_, ed. F. A. F. T. le Baron de Reiffenburg (Brussels, 1846-59), ii, pp. 231-232, Red Lion is killed by Count Baldwin.

This version of the Godfrey matter has been assigned to the fourteenth century both by Paulin Paris (_Histoire littéraire_, xxv, p. 508) and by Célestin Hippeau (_La conquête de Jérusalem_, p. ix), but A.-G. Krüger, in a more recent discussion, has placed it as late as the first half of the fifteenth century. “Les manuscrits de la Chanson du Chevalier au Cygne et de Godefroi de Bouillon,” in _Romania_, xxviii (1899), p. 426.

[28] _Le Chevalier au Cygne et Godefroid de Bouillon_, ii, p. 212-213.

[29] _La conquête de Jérusalem_, ed. Célestin Hippeau (Paris, 1868), pp. 308-311. There is as yet no edition of this poem worthy of the name. Much difference of opinion has been expressed as to the date of its composition. It has been ascribed by its editor to the thirteenth century. _Ibid._, pp. xviii, xix, xxv. But Paulin Paris held it to be a part of the work of Grandor of Douai, compiler of the _Chanson d’Antioche_, and thought it, too, like the latter, was based upon the lost work of Richard le Pèlerin. _Histoire littéraire_, xxii, p. 370, and cf. p. 384. And Molinier has somewhat carelessly assigned it to _circa_ 1130. _Sources de l’histoire de France_, no. 2154. On the other hand Henri Pigeonneau, while he would ascribe it to the late twelfth century, still holds that it certainly is not by the author of the _Chanson d’Antioche_, and that it is a later composition than the latter. _Le cycle de la croisade et de la famille de Bouillon_ (Saint Cloud, 1877), pp. 42-55. Certainly one works over the poem with a growing conviction that it is late rather than early. It is almost wholly a work of imagination, in which traditions of events centring around Antioch are hopelessly mingled with others pertaining to the region of Jerusalem. One can hardly say whether the imaginary battle of Ramleh contains more of the battle of Ascalon or of the battle against Kerboga.

It may be noted in passing that in the battle of Ascalon Robert performed an actual feat of arms (cf. _supra_, pp. 115-116) which may perhaps form the basis of all the legendary exploits which we have been passing in review. The references to the enemy’s ‘standard’ in Wace (_supra_, p. 190) and in the _Chanson d’Antioche_ (_supra_, p. 195) would seem to lend some color to this view. But it should be borne in mind that such exploits of knightly valor are a commonplace of the _chansons de geste_, and are attributed to Godfrey and to other chiefs as well as to Robert.

[30] Gaimar is specific in his statement that the election of Robert was due to his reputation for valor (_supra_, p. 191), as is also the author of an anonymous Norman chronicle of the thirteenth century, excerpted by Paul Meyer from a Cambridge manuscript in _Notices et extraits des manuscrits_, xxxii, 2, p. 65: “Li quens Rob., por les granz proesces que il feseit e qu’il avoit fetes, e por sa grant valor e son grant hardement, fu eslit a estre roi de Sulie.”

[31] _Supra_, p. 114.

[32] _G. R._, ii, p. 461.

[33] Pp. 229, 236.

[34] _H. C. Oc._, iii, p. 225.

[35] _Chronique de Robert de Torigni_, i, p. 87; _Annales de Waverleia_, in _Annales Monastici_, ii, p. 207; _Gesta Henrici Secundi_, i, p. 329; Gervase of Tilbury, _Otia Imperialia_, in _H. F._, xiv, p. 13; _Chronique de Normandie_, _ibid._, xiii, p. 247; Matthew Paris, _Chronica Maiora_, v, p. 602; _Flores Historiarum_, ii, p. 32; Robert of Gloucester, ii, pp. 607-608; John Capgrave, _Chronicle of England_, ed. F. C. Hingeston (London, 1858), p. 133; idem, _Liber de Illustribus Henricis_, ed. F. C. Hingeston (London, 1858), p. 55.

[36] _Supra_, p. 114.

[37] _H. C. Oc._, iv, p. 485.

[38] _La conquête de Jérusalem_, pp. 183-191. The legend is repeated in substantially the same form in _Le Chevalier au Cygne et Godefroid de Bouillon_, iii, pp. 81-88.

[39] _Chronica Universalis_, in _M. G. H._, Scriptores, xxvii, p. 334.

[40] An inedited Flemish chronicle of uncertain date, cited by Pigeonneau, _Le cycle de la croisade_, p. 76; Roger of Wendover, ii, p. 146; Matthew Paris, _Historia Minor_, i, pp. 149-150; Ranulf Higden, _Polychronicon_, ed. J. R. Lumby (London, 1865-86), vii, p. 424; _Eulogium Historiarum_, ed. F. C. Haydon (London, 1858-63), iii, p. 64. Roger of Wendover and Matthew Paris make the explanation that when his candle had been lighted, Robert secretly extinguished it, meaning to refuse the crown.

[41] Peter Langtoft, _Chronicle_, ed. Thomas Wright (London, 1866-68), i, p. 460.

[42] _H. C. Oc._, iii, p. 225. The account of the election given in _Li estoire de Jérusalem et d’Antioche_ appears to have no connection with any of our other sources. _Ibid._, v, p. 639.

[43] Henry of Huntingdon, pp. 229-230, 236; _Chronique de Robert de Torigni_, i, pp. 87, 128-129; _Annales de Waverleia_, in _Annales Monastici_, ii, p. 207; _Gesta Henrici Secundi_, i, pp. 329-330; Roger of Wendover, ii, p. 146; Matthew Paris, _Chronica Maiora_, ii, pp. 106-107, 132; v, p. 602; idem, _Historia Minor_, i, p. 205; _Flores Historiarum_, ii, p. 32; Robert of Gloucester, ii, pp. 607-608, 628-629; Capgrave, _Chronicle of England_, p. 133; idem, _De Illustribus Henricis_, pp. 55, 57.

[44] _Supra_, p. 179.

[45] “Rex autem, memor fraternitatis, eundem comitem Robertum in libera carceris custodia, sine ciborum penuria vel luminis beneficio vel preciosarum vestium ornatu, salvo tamen fecit reservari. Liceret etiam ei ad scaccos et aleas ludere. Robas etiam regis, sicut ipse rex, accipiebat; pomeria vicina et saltus et loca delectabilia perambulando, ex regis licentia, visitavit.” _Flores Historiarum_, ii, p. 39.

[46] _Gesta Henrici Secundi_, i, p. 330.

[47] _Annales de Wintonia_, in _Annales Monastici_, ii, p. 50; _Chronicon Thomae Wykes_, _ibid._, iv, p. 15; _Annales de Wigornia_, _ibid._, iv, p. 378; Matthew Paris, _Chronica Maiora_, ii, p. 133; idem, _Historia Minor_, i, pp. 30, 213; _Flores Historiarum_, ii, p. 39; Henry Knighton, _Chronicon_, ed. J. R. Lumby (London, 1889-95), i, p. 113; _Eulogium Historiarum_, iii, p. 58; Capgrave, _De Illustribus Henricis_, p. 65.

[48] _H. F._, xii, p. 432.

[49] Matthew Paris, _Historia Minor_, i, pp. 212-213; idem, _Chronica Maiora_, ii, p. 133; _Flores Historiarum_, ii, p. 39.

[50] Matthew Paris, _Historia Minor_, i, p. 213.

[51] Matthew Paris, _Historia Minor_, i, p. 248. The translation is a free and somewhat condensed rendering of the original. Cf. the same, _Chronica Maiora_, ii, pp. 160-161; Capgrave, _De Illustribus Henricis_, p. 65.

APPENDICES