Robert Levine

                     English Department

                     Boston University


"The Pious Traitor: the Man who Betrayed Antioch," Mittellateinisches Jahrbuch XXXIII (1998), pp. 59-80.

 

 

   No more convincing body of evidence can be found to

support the contention that history was a branch of rhetoric

during the middle ages (i.e., it was a part of

literature)[1], than the texts provided by the Latin

historians of the First Crusade. The elaborate, intertextual

exercises produced by writers like Fulker of Chartres,

Robert the Monk, Guibert of Nogent, Albert of Aix, Baldric

of Dole, Raoul of Caen, William of Tyre, and others, offer

characters and events at least as complex as any to be found

in the popular genres and $ mati<res with which they were,

often consciously, competing[2].  In addition, they reflect

the anxiety of influence that regularly resulted from

medieval efforts to harmonize Graeco-Roman and

Judaeo-Christian authorities.

   The capture of Antioch, for example, provides a clear

illustration of the literary, competitive, intertextual

nature of historical representations of the First Crusade.

Antioch was captured by the Crusaders June 3, 1098, at the

end of a long siege, with the help of someone -- a Greek, a

Turk, an Armenian -- or some group from inside the city[3].

Historians of the First Crusade gradually developed the

incident, usually to amplify the paradoxical possibilities

of a virtuous traitor. In the process of accounting for his

behavior, they provided dream visions, child hostages,

fratricide, adultery, muliericide, theological

disquisitions, conversion experiences, and more. Eventually

the rhetorical challenge involved making treachery,

fratricide, and muliericide not merely understandable

behavior, but acts of Christian piety as well.

   To accomplish such a task, the Latin historians used, in

addition to the standard repertory of schemes and tropes,

narrative strategies that show many of the features of what

in the twentieth-century is called "prose fiction."  Two of

the three kinds of narrative Isidore of Seville recognized

were explicitly fictional, that is, in some sense, made up:

     Nam historiae sunt res verae quae factae sunt;

     argumenta sunt quae etsi facta non sunt, fieri

     tamen possunt; fabulae vero sunt quae nec factae

     sunt nec fieri possunt; quia contra naturam sunt

     (I.XLIV.5)[4].

Distinguishing between things that were in fact done and

things that were not done, but might have been done, is no

easy task nine hundred years after the fact.  Things that

were not done and could not have been done because they were

against the laws of nature would seem to be easier to

determine, although the miraculous events that regularly

occur in any number of medieval texts of an historical

nature, and at crucial moments in the literature of the

First Crusade, suggest that the distinctions among these

terms had themselves a rhetorical potential. That is, a $

fabula inserted into a text purporting to be an eyewitness

account would partake of the illusion of truth, of $ res

verae quae factae sunt.

   Such an illusion was also a function of the style used

for the narrative. Although medieval rhetoricians claimed to

be following classical precedents by recommending that style

reflect the subject matter, the low or plain style was not

confined exclusively to low subject matter, particularly in

the case of historical texts, whose eye-witnesses did not

invariably possess literary training. In addition, as

Auerbach demonstrated in his examination of Augustine's

attitudes towards language, the humble style of the Bible,

an analogue for Christ's humility as expressed in the

Incarnation, represented a revolution against the precepts

of classical rhetoric[5].  Writers of historical texts,

then, could have consciously adopted the low style to

provide the texture of Biblical authority, as well as to

perform the function Gregory of Tours explicitly claimed

more than five hundred years earlier: to provide a speaker

who can be understood by all, $ Philosophantem rethorem

intellegunt pauci, loquentem rusticum multi $ multi[6].

   In addition to clarity and authority, the plain style can

provide an illusion that recent narratologists have

addressed by proposing a distinction between narrative and

discourse:

     In discourse, someone speaks, and his situation in

     the very act of speaking is the focus of the most

     important significations; in narrative ...  $ no

     one speaks, in the sense that at no moment do we

     ask ourselves $ who is speaking, where, when, and

     so forth, in order to receive the full

     signification of the text...  Narrative exists

     nowhere, so to speak, in its strict form. The

     slightest general observation, the slightest

     adjective that is little more than descriptive,

     the most discreet comparison, the most modest

     "perhaps," the most inoffensive of logical

     articulations introduces into its web a type of

     speech that is alien to it, refractory as it were.

     [7](

   Minimal "discourse" often characterizes the plain style,

as it does in the earliest surviving account of the First

Crusade, whose factual reliability has, not incidentally,

been least questioned by modern historians. The anonymous $

Gesta Francorum, probably composed by 1101 (also known,

misleadingly, as $ Tudebodus abbreviatus) and often

considered the testimony of an eye-witness, offers a

comparatively raw Latinity, characters whose motivations are

relatively simple, speeches that are brief and artless, and

enough ellipses to provoke later writers to greater

rhetorical heights. Whether the $ Gesta is a set of notes

taken in the heat of battle or a conscious, literary use of

the simple style by a monkish scribe, or some combination of

the two, is a problem that can be described more easily than

solved[8], at least partly because, as Jeanette Beer and

others have demonstrated, for medieval writers the

eye-witness, as well as truth and sincerity, were rhetorical

topoi[9].

   Editors of the $ Gesta Francorum have usually found in it

the voice of a reliable eye-witness, in spite of the

evidence that a "monkish scribe" had a hand in producing the

text.  To simulate the voice of an objective analyst, for

example, the anonymous author begins his version of the

taking of Antioch by showing some awareness of rhetorical

topoi, in this case combining the impossibility-topos and

what one might call a universalised version of the

humility-topos:

     Omnis quae egimus antequam urbs esset capta nequeo

     enarrare, quia nemo est in his partibus sive

     clericus sive laicus qui omnino possit scribere

     vel narrare, sicut res gesta est. Tamen

     aliquantulum dicam.

     I cannot tell you all the things which we did

     before the city fell, for there is in this land

     neither clerk nor layman who could write down the

     whole story or describe it as it happened, but I

     will tell you a little of it[10].

   He then modulates into relatively pure "narative" for

several pages, attributing the fall of Antioch to the fact

that a high-ranking Turk named Pirus[11] became friendly

with Bohemund, one of the leaders of the First Crusade, who

convinced the infidel, by means of Mammon and of Christ, to

betray the city:

     Erat quidam ammiratus de genere Turcorum, cui

     nomen Pirus, qui maximam amicitiam receperat cum

     Boamundo. Hunc saepe Boamundus pulsabat nuntiis

     adinvicem missis, quo eum infra civitatem

     amicissime reciperet, eique christianitatem

     liberius promittebat et eum se divitem facturum

     cum multo honore mandabat[12].

     A certain Turkish emir, whose name was Pirus,

     established a firm friendship with Bohemund.

     Bohemund relentlessly sent emissaries to him,

     urging him to receive him in a friendly fashion

     outside the city, and he offered him the

     opportunity to become a Christian, and he said

     that he would make him a rich, much honored man.

Pirus shows no hesitation in accepting the offer, promising

to deliver the three towers in his command, $ quacunque hora

voluerit, to Bohemund, who then proceeds to use the offer as

a hidden trump in his dealings with the other crusaders.

   After their initial resistance to Bohemund's proposal

that whoever manages to capture the city, $ ingenio...vel

ingeniare (an example of the rhetorical scheme, $

annominatio), be given the city to rule, the other Crusaders

yield when they hear the news that countless troops are on

the way to reinforce the besieged town.

   Bohemund now sends daily messages to Pirus, who sends

back to the Crusader both his son as a pledge of faith, and

a plan of action: the Crusaders are to pretend to depart on

a raiding expedition, then to double back during the night,

while Pirus lets the others into the three towers under his

control. Everything goes exactly according to plan, although

Pirus at one point during the night becomes anxious at what

he perceives to be Bohemund's tardiness, breaking into Greek

that is given and translated by the author:

     Micro Francos echome (hoc est: paucos Francos

     habemus).  Ubi est acerrimus Boamundus? ubi est

     ille miles invictus[13]?

     There are few French here. Where is the fierce

     Bohemund?  Where is the unconquered soldier?

In response to the outcry, an anonymous Lombard servant, $

quidam serviens Longobardus, descends the wall and relays

Pirus' anxiety to Bohemund, in effect upbraiding the

Crusader, in spite of their evident disparity in rank:

     Quid hic stas, vir prudens? Quamobrem huc venisti.

     Ecce nos iam tres turres habemus (p. 106).

     Why do you stand here, wise man? This is the

     reason you came here. Now we have the three

     towers.

   Bohemund and the others now race to the wall and climb

the ladder, in some manuscripts breaking into French:

     Videntes itaque illi, qui tamen erant in turribus,

     coeperunt iocunda voce clamare:  $ Deus le volt!

     Nos vero idem clamabamus. (p. 106)

     Those who were in the towers cried out happily,

     "God wishes it," and we cried out the same.

In the course of the Crusaders' victory, the death of Pirus'

brother is reported $ en passant, and unemotionally; the

ladder then breaks, but the Crusaders find a convenient gate

in the wall, and they enter the city. The text of the $

Gesta Francorum, then, implicitly offers itself as an

eye-witness account, whose occassional, mild rhetorical

flourishes, including momentary polyglossia, do not

seriously dilute the impression that the reader is perusing

a relatively pure "narrative" of the series of events by

means of which Bohemund, an effective warrior and a crafty

politician, Pirus, a Turk of no particular character, and a

faithful, brave Lombard soldier from the lower ranks,

brought about the fall of Antioch.  Except for the crusaders

shouting, $ Deus le volt, the passage has no particular

religious qualities.

   $ Deus le volt is the explicit agenda of Fulker of

Chartres's $ Historia Hierosolymitana, the first part of

which was composed sometime before 1105[14].  In his

prologue Fulker provides no motivation for writing beyond,

"the repeated requests of some of my comrades."  He does,

however, unlike the author of the $ Gesta Francorum,

insistently claim to have been an eye-witness, in the

prologue, and several times throughout the body of his text

(for example, Book One, Chapter Five).  At one point he

describes himself tasting the waters of the Dead Sea, and

finding them, "more bitter than hellebore" (II.v).

   Like Gregory of Tours, he claims to have chosen a low

style deliberately, but not for Gregory's ostensible motive

-- clarity; instead, he asserts that his sublime subject

matter will come in a humble, and therefore, more reliable

prose, $ stilo rusticano tamen veraci[15].  $ He seems very

close to asserting that his choice of style matches the

transcendant quality of his subject matter, when he

immediately suggests that the Crusaders suffering for Christ

are analogous to those who fought for the God of the Old

Testament:

     Licet autem nec Israeliticae plebis nec

     Machabaeorum aut aliorum plurium praerogativae,

     quos Deus tam crebris et magnificis miraculis

     inlustravit, hoc opus praelibatum aequiparare non

     audeam, tamen haut longe ab illis gestis inferius

     aestimatum, quoniam Dei miracula in eo noscuntur

     multipliciter perpetrata, scriptis commendare

     curavi; quin immo in quo disparantur his postremi

     ab illis primis vel Israeliticis vel Machabaeis,

     quos quidem vidimus in regionibus eorum saepe apud

     nos aut audivimus longe a nobis positos, pro amore

     Christi emembrari, crucifigi, excoriari,

     sagitarii, secari et diverso martyrii genere

     consummari..(p. 117).

     Although I dare not compare the above-mentioned

     labor of the Franks with the great achievements of

     the Israelites or Maccabees or of many other

     privliged people whom God had honored by frequent

     and wonderful miracles, still I consider the deeds

     of the Franks scarcely less inferior since God's

     miracles often occured among them. These I have

     taken care to commemorate in writing. In what way

     do the Franks differ from the Israelites or

     Maccabees? Indeed we have seen these Franks in the

     same regions, often right with us, or we have

     heard about them in places distant from us,

     suffering dismemberment, crucifixion, flaying,

     death by arrows or by being rent apart, or other

     kinds of martyrdom, all for the love of

     Christ[16].

Fulker's intentions become even more explicit in the lines

that follow; sacred ends justify questionable means,

paradoxically producing non-fraudulent fraud:

     Cum autem placuit Deo laborem sui consummari,

     forsitan precibus eorum placatus, qui cotidie

     preces inde supplices et fundebant, concessit

     pietate sua per eorundem Turcorum fraudem,

     traditione clandestina urbem Christianis reddi.

     Audite fraudem et non fraudem. (pp. 230-231)

     When, however, God, appeased no doubt[17] by their

     prayers, was pleased to end the labor of His

     people who had daily poured forth beseeching

     supplications to Him, in His love he granted that

     through the treachery of these same Turks the city

     should be secretly delivered up and restored to

     the Christians. Hear therefore of a treachery, and

     yet not a treachery.

   When Fulker reaches the siege of Antioch, he provides a

narrative that Hagenmeyer[18] describes accurately as $

etwas phantastisch, but which is clearly in keeping with his

announced agenda. Relying apparently on Raymond of Aguiler's

$ Historia Francorum qui Ceperunt Iherusalem, a text that

was completed before the end of 1101[19], as well as on the

$ Gesta Francorum, Fulker goes beyond both previous texts by

weaving a $ fabula into the fabric of the $ historia, which

may have been perceived as $ argumentum by the less

skeptical members of his audience[20].  Providential grace,

in the form of God himself, descends from heaven, to address

the traitor, who was anonymous in the earlier texts:

     Apparuit enim Dominus noster cuidam Turco, gratia

     sua praeelecto, et dixit ei: Expergiscere qui

     dormis! impero tibi ut reddas civitatem

     Christianis.

     Our Lord appeared to a certain Turk predestined by

     His grace and said to him: "Arise, you who sleep!

     I command you to return the city to the

     Christians."

The Turk, however, is astonished and temporarily inert; God

therefore redescends to issue his orders once again, this

time also identifying himself as Christ:

     Miratus autem ille visionem illam silentio texit.

     iterum autem apparuit et Dominus: redde urbem

     Christianis!  inquit, sum etenim Christus, qui hoc

     tibi impero. (pp. 231-232)

     Although wondering about it the man kept the

     vision a secret.  Again the Lord again appeared to

     him. "Return the city to the Christians," He said,

     "for I who command this am Christ indeed."

Still the Turk resists, going, like a loyal subject, to the

prince of Antioch to describe his vision:

     Meditatus ergo ille quid faceret, abiit ad dominum

     suum, Antiochae principem, et visionem illam

     innotuit ei. cui respondit ille: numquid non

     phantasmati, brute, vis obocdire? reversus autem

     ille, postmodum siluit.

     Wondering therefore what he should do the man went

     to his master, the prince of Antioch, and made

     known the vision to him.  The latter replied, "Do

     you wish, stupid man, to obey a ghost?" The man

     returned and remained silent.

Reduced to silence again, this time by Yagi Siyan's brutal

response, the Turk receives a third visit from God:

     Cui Dominus rursum apparuit, inquiens: cur non

     explesti quod tibi iussi? non est tibi

     haesitandum, nam qui hoc impero Dominus omnium

     sum.

     Again the Lord appeared unto him, saying: Why have

     you not done what I have commanded? it is not for

     you to hesitate, for I who command this am the

     Lord of all."

This time the Turk acts immediately, giving his son as

hostage to Bohemund, without any mention of a previously

established friendship, and without the motivations of

Mammon or Christ provided by the author of the $ Gesta

Francorum.

   Like Raymond, Fulker also abbreviates the $ Gesta's

description of the nocturnal attack, leaving out Pirus'

remarks about the paucity of Franks present, the humble

Lombard servant, and the slaughtered brother of Pirus.

   The humble, pious voice fabricated by the composer of the

$ Gesta Francorum and the somewhat more elaborate voices of

Fulker provided a perverse kind of stimulation for several

of the later Latin historians of the First Crusade, among

whom Robert the Monk, to judge by the more than 80

manuscripts of the $ Historia Hierosolimitana that have

survived, was particularly successful.  Writing before 1107,

he claims that Abb> Bernard, displeased at the lack of a

proper beginning and a proper style for the $ Gesta

Francorum, demanded that an account of the Council of

Clermont be added[21], to make the writing "more accurate,"

-- i.e., the words should correspond to the "beauty" of the

matter:

     quidem etenim abbas nomine Bernardus, litterarum

     scientia et morum probitate praeditus, ostendit

     mihi unam historiam secundum hanc materiam, sed ei

     admodum displicebat, partim quia series tam

     pulchrae materiei inculta jacebat, et litterarium

     compositio dictionum inculta vacillabat.

     Praecepit igitur mihi ut, qui Clari Montis

     concilio interfui, acephelae materiei caput

     praeponerem et lecturis eam accuratiori stilo

     componerem[22].

     A certain abbot named Bernard, preminently

     virtuous and learned, showed me a history of this

     material, but it was displeasing to him, partly

     because the narrative of this lovely material was

     rough, and its literary composition and diction

     uncultivated. Therefore he commanded me, who was

     at the council of Clermont, to put a head on the

     material, and reorganize it with a more accurate

     style.

   Robert, then, is committed to classical rather than

Augustinian rhetorical decorum.  He also promises to narrate

no lies and no trifles, only the truth, but his standards

for the truth are characteristically medieval; in a kind of

second preface, he offers as his models Moses, Joshua,

Samuel, and David, preparing his readers for an atmosphere

like that created by Fulker of Chartres, provoking his

modern editor to describe the work as, "ce t>moinage plus

sinc<re que vrai."[23] In the course of replacing the

story's head, Robert testifies that the members of the

Council of Clermont were carried away by the Pope's appeal,

crying out, $ Deus vult! Deus vult!  which was, of course,

the Crusader's cry, as they climbed the walls of Antioch,

according to the author of the $ Gesta Francorum.  Robert,

however, neglects or misses the opportunity to establish the

connection word-for-word, reporting instead that the

Crusaders cried out:  $ Kyrieieleison (p. 805), and not $

Deus vult, as they climbed the wall at Antioch.

   Where Fulker, however, offered a direct, personal

appearance on the part of God, Robert the Monk provides a

vision requiring interpretation, borrowing perhaps from a

passage in the $ Gesta Francorum, where the Crusaders in

Antioch, three weeks after climbing the wall, besieged by

the Turks, see (p. 154) saints George, Mercurius, and

Demetrius bringing them help[24].  During one of several

private conversations between Bohemund and Pirus, the Turk

asks the crusader where the brilliant[25] army he sees

before him on the plain is quartered; such an army, he says,

could not be resisted by the forces within Antioch.

Partially usurping the function of priest, Bohemund explains

to Pirus that the army he sees shining so brightly is not on

the plain before him, but is in heaven:

        "Per Mathomum, praeceptorem meum, juro, quoniam

     si hic adessent, tota haec planities illos non

     caperet. Omnes habent equos albos, mirae

     celeritas, et vestimenta, et scuta, et vexilla

     ejusdem coloris.  Sed forsitan ideo absconduntur,

     ne virtus vestra nobis manifestetur. Sed per fidem

     quam habes in Jesum, ubi castra eorum locata

     sunt?"  Boamundus itaque, spiritu Dei illustratus,

     ilico sensit visionem hanc quam viderat Dei esse;

     nec quod quaerebat ex tentatione, sed ex bona

     voluntate procedere; et respondans inquit: "Licet

     sis extraneus a lege nostra, quia video te bona

     erga nos voluntate bonoque spiritu animatum,

     aperiam tibi aliquod nostrae fidei sacramentum.

     (p. 796)

       "By Mahomet, my teacher, I swear, since they are

     present here, this entire plain is not large

     enough to contain them. They all have white

     horses, of remarkable speed, and clothing and

     shields and standards of the same color. But

     perhaps they were hidden, to conceal your power

     from us.  By the faith you hold in Jesus, where

     are their tents located?"  Bohemund then, filled

     with the spirit of God, understood that the vision

     he had seen had come from God, nor did the Turk

     ask by way of testing him, but in the spirit of

     good will. Bohemund replied: "Although you stand

     outside of our law, I see that you are animated by

     a spirit of good will towards us, and therefore I

     shall reveal something of the sacrament of our

     faith to you.

Robert's Bohemund now explicates the vision, but only

partially:

     Si tantum profundi intellectus haberes, gratias

     Creatori omnium referre deberes, qui tibi ostendit

     exercitum candidatorum; et scias quia in terra non

     conversantur, sed in supernis mansionibus regni

     coelorum. Hi sunt qui pro fide Christi martyrium

     sustinuerunt, et in omnem terram contra incredulos

     dimicaverunt. Horum praecipui sunt signiferi

     Georgius, Demetrius, Mauricius, qui in hac

     temporali vita et militaria arma gestaverunt.

     If your understanding were sufficient, you would

     give thanks to the creator of all things, who

     shows you the shining army.  You would understand

     that they are not present on earth, but in the

     lofty mansions of the kingdom of heaven. They are

     those who endured martyrdom for their faith in

     Christ, and who have fought against unbelievers in

     every land. Among their leaders are George,

     Demetrius, Mauritius, who wielded military arms in

     this temporal life.

Pirus, then, has seen a vision of the warrior-saints, the

models and implied providential justification for the

Crusaders' own behavior[26].

   Now Robert provides a dramatic exchange by means of which

he incorporates in the transaction a properly accredited

ecclesiastic, thus preventing the representative of the

first function from taking over the duties assigned to the

representative of the second function[27].  When Pirus asks

why the saints have so many white horses, so many shields,

and so many standards, Bohemund cannot supply an answer:

     Cui respondit Pirus..."Et si de coelo veniunt, ubi

     tot albos equos, tot scuta, tot vexilla

     inveniunt?" Cui Boamundus: "Tu magna, et super

     sensum meum requiris. Propterea si vis, accedat

     capellanus meus, qui tibi super his respondebit."

     (p. 797)

     Pirus said to him: "If they came from heaven,

     where did they get so many white horses, shields,

     and standards?" Bohemund replied to him: "You are

     asking about great things, things beyond my

     understanding. Therefore, if you wish, my chaplain

     may come to give you an answer in this matter."

The chaplain arrives instantly, and proceeds to explain

briefly the manner in which noumenal phenomena participate

in the phenomenal world, concluding with a conventional

admonition:

     Nec mireris si omnipotens factor omnium transmutat

     materiam a se factam in quamlibet speciem, qui

     universa de nihilo adduxit in essentiam.

     You should not be surprised that the all-powerful

     maker of all things changes matter that he himself

     has made into whatever shape he wishes; he brought

     the universe into being out of nothing.

God's ability to make something out of nothing inspires

Bohemund and Pirus to discuss the paradoxical fact that the

Crusaders, though outnumbered, have done well militarily;

they reach the roughly Augustinian conclusion that God, in

the case of the siege of Antioch, has made something if not

out of nothing, at least out of very little.

   Fulker had offered a similar perception as part of the

exposition in his $ exordium:

     Quis potest non mirari quomodo nos, exiguus

     populus inter tot hostium nostrorum regna, non

     solum resistere, sed etiam vivere poteramus.

     Who would not marvel that we, so small a group

     among so many kingdoms of our enemies, were able

     not only to resist, but to survive?

Material for this posture also exists in two of the

Crusader-letters; in the first, Adhemar of Le Puy and the

Greek patriarch of Jerusalem say:

     "Pauci enim sumus ad comparationem paganorum,

     verum et vere pro nobis pugnat Deus.

     "We are few in comparison with the pagans. Truly

     God fights for us."[28]

In the second, the patriarch of Jerusalem and other bishops

add rhetorical flowers to the idea:

     Quid unus in mille? ubi nos habemus comitem,

     hostes XL reges, ubi nos turmam, hostes legionem,

     ubi nos militem, ipsi ducem, ubi nos peditem, ipsi

     comitem, ubi nos castrum, ipsi regum.  Nos autem

     non confisi in multitudine nec viribus nec

     praesumptione aliqua, sed clipeo Christi et

     iustitia protecti Georgio et Theodoro et Demetrio

     et beato Blasio, militibus Christi nos vere

     comitantibus[29].

     How one against a thousand? Where we have a count

     the enemy has forty kings; where we have a

     regiment the enemy has a legion; where we have a

     knight they have a duke; where we have a

     footsoldier they have a count; where we have a

     castle they have a kingdom. We do not trust in any

     multitude nor in power nor in any presumption, but

     in the shield of Christ and justice, under the

     protection of George and Theodore and Demetrius

     and St Blaise, soldiers of Christ truly

     accompanying us[30].

Robert's intertextual contribution, then, is to reinvent

this material in the form of a dramatic dialogue.

   His Pirus then proceeds to behave as he had in the

previous texts, offering to turn over the three towers in

his control to Bohemund, to open a gate as well, and to

pledge his only son as a hostage. Robert's Bohemund has two

responses at this point:  first he weeps with gratitude

towards God, then he tricks the other Crusaders into

granting him Antioch. As in the other texts, they resist at

first, and then capitulate, in Robert's version without the

threat of impending Turkish reinforcements (p. 799).

   As they do in the $ Gesta, the Crusaders pretend to go on

a raiding expedition, then return quietly at night. Faced

with the wall, they hesitate, out of unclear motivations,

either fear of death or fear of being considered

presumptuous; at this point the dilemna is overcome for them

when a knight named Fulker of Chartres (not the writer --

there were four men named Fulker of Chartres on the First

Crusade) provides the necessary heroic gestures, including a

pious prologue to his climb in which he envisions, invoking

the rhetoric of heroic alternatives, either martyrdom or

victory:

     quumque omnes haesitarent, tunc unus miles, nomine

     Fulcherius Carnotensis natione, ceteris audacior,

     ait: "Ego in nomine Jesu Christi primus ascendam

     ad quodcumque me Deus vocaverit suscipiendum, sive

     ad martyrium, seu obtinendum victoriae bravium."

     (p. 800)

     While they were all hesitating, a soldier named

     Fulker of Chartres, braver than the others, said:

     "In the name of Jesus Christ I shall be the first

     to go up, to whatever end God may determine,

     either to martyrdom, or to obtaining the sword of

     victory.

   The others follow, although Robert does not give the

exact number; Pirus again expresses anxiety at not seeing

Bohemund among them, but this time he does not break out

into his native Greek. Instead, he delivers a military $

aubade, in properly composed Latin elegiacs:

     "Quid facit ille piger? quid tardat, quidve moratur?

        Mittite qui dicat quod citius veniat.

     Mittite qui dicat quia lux hodierna propinquat.

        Et creber cantus praesignat adesse serenum."

     Nuntius eligitur qui nuntiet Boamundo. (p. 800)

     "What is the slothful one doing? Why is he late,

     why is he delaying? Send someone to tell him to

     come more quickly.  Send someone to tell him that

     the light of day is approaching.  Many a (bird-)

     song signals that it is present." A messenger was

     chosen to bring the message to Bohemund[31].

   Not content with providing a pious traitor able to

compose Latin verses in emergencies, and to see divine

visions, Robert proceeds to greater heights of out-doing by

geminating the Turk's brother, presumably in an attempt to

magnify Pirus' ability to suppress his natural feelings of

kinship for the larger purpose of the Crusade. Emitting a

Virgilian groan when notified of his brothers' deaths,

Pirrus proceeds to betray Antioch.  His major solace would

seem to be the gracefully offered consolation of Bohemund:

     Interea Fulcherius, qui cum LX juvenibus armatis

     asdcenderat, exceptis turribus Pirri, tres alias

     bellica virtute occupaverat, et in eis duo fratres

     Pirri occiderat.  Quod licet Pirus non ignoraret,

     a promisso fidei pacto non retardavit; sed, ut

     audivit quia scala confracta erat, venienti

     Boamundo et omni Francorum multitudini portas

     aperuit. Et quum graves gemitus ab imo pectore

     traheret longaque suspiria, nulla eum tamen a

     promissa fide illata removit injuria. Quem

     Boamundus in ipso portae introitu summisso capite

     salutavit, eique de collato beneficio gratias

     egit. Sed, quum causam suae lamentationis

     didicisset, admodum indoluit; et de militibus

     suis, qui eum custodirent resque suas tuerentur,

     fidelem custodiam dereliquit. (pp. 800-801)

     Meanwhile Fulker, who, together with 60 armed

     young men, had climbed the wall and stormed three

     other towers before turning to the ones under

     Pirus' command, and had killed two of Pirus'

     brothers who were in them. Not unaware of this,

     Pirus did not delay keeping his word, but, when he

     heard that the ladder had broken, opened the gates

     for Bohemund and the entire multitude of Franks to

     enter. When he had drawn a deep groan and profound

     sighs from the depths of his heart, no sense of

     injury prevented him from carrying out his word.

     Bohemund greeted him at the entrance to the gate

     with bowed head, as a sign of gratitude for the

     favor done for him. However, when he had learned

     the reason for (Pirus') lamentation, he grieved

     with him; then Bohemund left him and his goods in

     the care of his soldiers.

   Not only does this pious traitor outdo any previous

Pirus, but nature herself offers an unmatchable performance,

as Robert reports the appearance of a comet, and of a red

fire in the northeastern night sky. Finally, the language

with which Robert describes the Crusaders entering Antioch

conjures up last things, the Apocalypse and the Harrowing of

Hell:

     His evidentibus signis in coelo radiantibus, et

     aurora terris lucem referente, exercitus Dei

     portas Antiochiae intravit, in virtute illius qui

     inferni $ portas aereas contrivit et vectes

     ferreos confregit, cui cum Patre et Spiritu Sancto

     subjicitur omne regnum et imperium, cujus $

     potestas permanet.  $ In saecula saeculorum.

     Amen. (p. 801)

     As these signs shone clearly in the sky, and the

     dawn brought light to the earth, the army of God

     entered the gates of Antioch, by virtue of the

     power of him who shattered the brass gates and

     iron bolts of hell, to whom, together with the

     Father and the Holy Spirit, every kingdom and

     every empire is subject, whose power is forever

     and forever.  Amen[32].

The taking of Antioch, then, concludes with images of light

that reflect the rhetoricians' reliance on antitheses,

exercised earlier by Robert by means of a geographical

paradox, in which the West brings the sun to the East:

     Revera Dominus nunc ascendit super occasum,

     quoniam requiescit in animabus occidentalium. Nunc

     occidens illustrare parat Orientem, et, novis

     sideribus suis excitatis, qua premebatur depellere

     caecitatem. (p. 740)

     Indeed the Lord now ascends over the west, since

     he rests in the souls of the Westerners. Now

     setting he prepares to illuminate the East, and

     with his newly kindled stars, with which it is

     urged to dispel blindness.

   Pirus has one more function in Robert's text; at the

opening of the next book of the $ Historia Hierosolimitana

Robert exhorts his readers to profit by this extreme

paradigm of keeping faith, offering as a further paradox a

Biblical analogue:

     Universi fideles, hujus Pirri fidem attendite, et

     attendentes, si quid ex fide per fidem

     promittitis, absque ulla contradictione perficite.

     Nulla hunc memoria fraternae mortis, nulla vis

     doloris, nulla instigatio moeroris avertere potuit

     a promissae fidei stabilitate, magisque valuit

     apud ipsum fidei pacto, quam duorum germanorum

     diri cruciatus interemptio. Et si illud antiquum

     problema Sansonis in medium volumus adducere, huic

     aequipollens possumus proponere. Sanson ait:  $ De

     comedente exivit cibus, et de forti dulcedo.  Nunc

     vero de vero de infideli processit fides, et de

     extraneo familiaris et integra dilectio. (p. 805

     and $ Judges xiv.14)

     All you faithful people, take heed of the faith of

     this Pirrus, see to it that if you promise

     faithfully to do something, you carry out your

     promise unhesitatingly. No thought of his

     brother's death, no power of grief, no sting of

     sorrow could shake the stability of his resolve to

     carry out what he had promised to do, though he

     was tortured by the death of his two brothers. And

     if we wish to adduce the ancient predicament of

     Samson, we may justly equate it with this. Samson

     said: "Out of the eater came forth meat, and out

     of the strong came forth sweetness."  Now truly

     faith came forth out of a lack of the unfaithful,

     and out of the foreigner came complete and

     intimate love.

   Like Robert the Monk, Baldric, Bishop of Dole, shortly

after 1107, composed his $ Historia Jerosolimitana, partly

out of distaste for earlier, less sophisticated texts.

Where Fulker offered a text composed $ stilo rusticano tamen

veraci, the learned Bishop of Dole condemned a style $ nimis

rusticanum, as no match for the nobility of the characters

and action[33].  As part of his improvements, Baldric

supplies rhythmic, rhyming prose, oratory, drama, more

partisan elements, and a heightened sense of time and

timing. In addition, his eagerness to gentrify the behavior

of the Crusaders leads him to $ excuse, not merely to

report, their canibalism[34].  He also professes, in spite

of his Christian abhorrence of pagans, to be an objective

historian, offering, as evidence, his unwillingness to

detract from the pagans' fortitude, although stronger

pagans, as he points out, make Christian accomplishments

more significant[35].

   Baldric proceeds to gentrify the Turk by giving him not

only a lofty title, as the author of the $ Gesta Francorum

had done, but also a resounding phrase to identify him

ethnically:  $ Turcorum prosapia oriundus.  His friendship

for Bohemund comes from nothing so vulgar as a direct

encounter, but is based on the Crusader's heroic reputation:

     Non quia, ut reor, Boamundum aliquando viderit,

     sed quoniam de eo fama volans ad eum multa bona

     detulerat, et de prudentia ipsius neutiquam

     ambigebat (RHCHO IV, p. 53).

     Not because, as I think, he had seen Bohemund, but

     because swift rumor had brought him much that was

     good (about Bohemund), and he had no doubts about

     his wisdom.

In one sentence, then, Baldric delivers implied praise for

Pirus' imaginative responsiveness, and for Bohemund's

accomplishments.

   At this point in his narrative, Baldric, in his search

for a more elegantly spiritual traitor, reduces the need for

credulousness.  When the two meet, Bohemund immediately

proceeds to the task of converting the Turk, with the

assistance of God, who, however, does not participate as

directly in the action as he did in Fulker's text:

     jam etenim Deus ei aspiraverat quid agere deberet;

     et ut Boamundo pro voluntate responderet, in aura

     cordis ejus stillaverat. (p. 53)

     For God inspired him to do what he should do, and

     instilled in the ear of his heart the desire to

     say yes to Bohemund.

Like Fulker, then, Baldric assures his audience of the

Providential nature of his narrative, but he provides no

visions, in a clear attempt, as he had indicated in his

preface, to develop a sense of inner spirituality missing

from the earlier texts,

   Baldric also is interested in the sense of urgency that

informs the action; when Baldric's Pirus gives a son as

hostage to the Crusader, he quotes one of the passages most

often borrowed by medieval historians from Lucan, $ nocuit

differe paratis, "delay does damage for those already

prepared," as part of an extensive, rhetorically elaborate

speech.  Clearly Baldric's sense of decorum demands that the

Turk speak in the style a skilled rhetorician would deem

appropriate for a Western king or prince, but the allusion

also supports the general sense of dramatic, temporal

urgency woven into the text, partly by classical allusion;

phrases like $ ora resolvit, (Georgics IV.452) for example,

combined with $ animo cupienti nihil satis festinatur

(Sallust, $ Jug.  C.LVIX), in an attempt to describe

Bohemund's state of mind, contribute to the motif of $

tempus fugit that shapes the episode as a whole.

   The first to climb the wall at Antioch, no concern of the

author of the $ Gesta Francorum or Fulcher, but identified

by Robert the Monk as Fulcher of Chartres, in Baldric's text

becomes Paganus the Lombard, perhaps a reinvention of the $

serviens Longobardus who descended from the wall to upbraid

Bohemund in the $ Gesta Francorum.  Pirus' has only one

brother in this text, to whom Baldric applies a vividly

intense adjective, that suggestively echos the first

sentence of Urban II's address[36] to the Council of

Clermont:

     Audivimus, $ fratres dilectissime, et auditis,

     quod sine profundis singultibus tractans nequaquam

     possumus, quantis calamitatibus, quantis

     incommoditatibus, quam diris contritionibus in

     Jerusalem et in Antiochia et in caeteris

     orientalis plagae civitatibus Christiani nostri, $

     fratres nostri, membra Christi flagellantur,

     opprimuntur, injuriantur germani $ fratres nostri,

     contubernales vestri, $ couterni vestri[37].

The word $ couternus, without Classical precedent, in

conjunction with $ fratres is only slight evidence of an

attempt, made more explicitly and self-consciously by Robert

the Monk, to provide some kind of emotional, literary

continuum between the Pope's words and the Crusade

itself[38].  Baldric, at this point, continues to establish

the significance of Pirus' loss, with an expression of

authorial sympathy, set within an apostrophe to the blind

and stormy night:

     tunc etiam fortuitu mactatus est Pirri $ couternus

     frater; tales sunt, caeca et intempestata nox, tui

     eventus:  tales sunt, horae caliginosae, vestrae

     tumultuationes. (p. 56)

     Then by chance the uterine brother of Pirus was

     killed; that is what your disturbances produce

     during the murky time, blind and stormy night.

Baldric's variations, then, are primarily aesthetic, with

little concern for character and action.

   Perhaps six years after the fall of Antioch, Guibert of

Nogent, the most formidable personality of all the Latin

historians of the early 12th century, but probably the least

read, offered his own version of the First Crusade, in a

style deliberately antithetic to that of the anonymous $

Gesta, together with a corrective title. His posture is

characteristically agressive, as his remarks in the preface

to the $ Gesta Dei per Francos demonstrate.

   Among the debates in which he engages is the battle of

the books, categorically pronouncing the moderns superior to

the ancients, not because of any particular stylistic

superiority, but because of superior subject matter, and

superior "presence," in effect.  Invoking the providential

defense of writing history, Guibert insists that his subject

matter is God's power working $ through men; the deeds,

then, of God, not the Francs and not Tancredi, are the

substance of his text.

   Guibert now modulates from defending the moderns against

the ancients to defending $ sermo sublimis.  To treat such a

lofty topic, Guibert proposes to obey a classical rather

than an "Augustinian" rhetorical decorum, insisting on the

necessity for a lofty style[39].

   Guibert's choice of the lofty style may also be part of

his more general appreciation, surprising in a man whose

personality is usually described as harsh and severe, of

aesthetic beauty, if Meyer Schapiro's interpretation of a

passage in the Autobiography[40] may be extended to the $

Deeds of God through the Franks.  Guibert claims to have

decided, against the advice of his friends, but perhaps

provoked by Fulker's occassional forays into verse.  to mix

prose and verse in an historical text.

   In spite of the high style, however, Guibert insists that

there is nothing in his work that an educated man cannot

understand -- an indication that he wishes to distinguish

himself from those who are deliberately and pretentiously

obscure. He then dismisses his achievements with a

rhetorical flourish in which he claims to have composed the

entire work as a first draft:

     Parcat quoque lector meus sermonis incuriae;

     indubie sciens, quia quae habuerim scribendi,

     eadem mihi fuerint momenta dictandi; nec ceris

     emendanda diligenter excepi, sed uti praesto est,

     foede delatrata membranis apposui.

     May my reader, knowing that I certainly had no

     more time for writing than those moments during

     which I dictated the words themselves, forgive the

     stylistic infelicities; I did not take care to

     correct my writing-tablets, but I placed them on

     the parchment, exactly as they are, with all their

     faults.

   However, at the beginning of Book Five (p. 185), Guibert

acknowledges that his dense text makes for difficult

reading, revealing his personal fascination with what is

difficult:

     Talis namque animo meo voluntas adjacet ut sit

     magis subobscurorum appetens, rudium vero et

     impolite dictorum fugitans. Ea quippe quae meum

     exercere queant animum pluris appretior, quam ea

     quae, captu facilia, nihil memorabile avido semper

     novitatis largiuntur ingenio.

     In my soul lies the desire to prefer the most

     recondite material, and it flees from rough,

     unpolished speaking. I adore those things that

     provide my mind with violent exercise, rather than

     those things which provide nothing memorable for a

     mind always eager for fresh material.

   At the beginning of the fourth book of the $ Gesta Dei,

Guibert makes his contribution to yet another debate; in an

attempt to handle the problem of not being an eye-witness of

the events he narrates, he fabricates an intertextual

polemic that permits modern Christian writing (saints lives

and John III.32) to triumph over ancient pagan authority

(Horace, $ Ars Poetica 180-181):

     Si mihi plane id objicitur, quia non viderim, id

     objici non potest quod non audieram, cum visui

     auditum supparem quodammodo profecto crediderim.

     Quamvis enim

       Segnius irritent animos demissa per aurem,

       Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus,

     tamen quis historiographos, quis eos qui sanctorum

     vitas edidere ambigat, non solum quae obtutibus,

     sed ea scripisse quae aliorum hauserant intellecta

     relatibus? Si namque verax, ut legitur, quidam, et

     quod vidit et audivit, hoc testatur, autentica

     procul dubio vera dicentium narratio, ubi videre

     non suppetit, comprobatur.

     If any objection is raised because I did not see,

     no objection may be raised that I did not hear,

     since I believe that hearing is as good as seeing.

     For although:

       Less vividly is the mind stirred by what

       finds entrance through the ears than by

       what is brought before the trusty

       eyes[41].

     yet who is unaware that historians and those who

     wrote the lives of the saints wrote down not only

     what they had seen, but also those things they had

     drawn from what others had told them?  If the

     truthful man, as it is written, reports "what he

     has seen and heard," then his tale may be accepted

     as true when he describes what he has not seen,

     but has been told by reliable speakers.

Guibert then goes on to challenge those who object to do the

job better (p. 167).

   Like Robert the Monk and Baldric of Dole, Guibert is

driven to this competition at least partly by his extreme

dissatisfaction with earlier narratives of the First

Crusade, and particularly with their representations of the

fall of Antioch. In his fifth book, immediately after

acknowledging the fascination of what is difficult, Guibert

provides two paragraphs on the difficulties of determining

exactly what happened at Antioch, arguing, as the author of

the $ Gesta Francorum had before him, that the task, in a

sense, is impossible; Guibert, however, seems to be

attempting to out-do the author of the $ Gesta Francorum by

relying not on rhetorical commonplaces, but on common sense

and plausibility.

     Quae facta sunt in Antiochena obsidione nemini

     relatu possibilia existimamus, quia, inter eos

     ibidem interfuerunt, nullus profecto potuit

     repperiri qui cuncta quae circa eamdem urbem agi

     potuerunt valuisset pervidere, vel ita

     comprehendere ad integrum sicut se habet ordo

     gestae rei. (p. 185)

     We judge that what happened at the siege of

     Antioch cannot possibly be told by anyone,

     because, among those who were there, no one can be

     found who could have observed everything that took

     place throughout the city, or who could understand

     the entire event in a way that would enable him to

     represent the sequence of actions as they took

     place.

   The story of Pirus is particularly annoying to Guibert,

who handles the details of the incident abruptly and

dyspeptically. The friendship with Bohemund is not generated

by the crusader's $ fama, but, according to Guibert, they

got together $ quo nescio pacto, and Bohemund persuaded the

Turk both verbally, and $ lenocinante emolumento (p. 186).

At Bohemund's suggestion, without any visit by Christ, or

vision of divine armies, the Turk converted to Christianity,

but only temporarily, perhaps demonstrating, as Norman

Daniel has remarked, that "conversions rarely have reasons,

but they always have a motive "[42] Many of the details of

earlier versions remain unchanged in Guibert: Bohemund again

uses Pirus as a secret weapon in his negotiations with the

other Crusaders, with no assistance from the Bishop of Puy,

or any other ecclesiastic for that matter; the report of an

approaching pagan army cancels all resistance to Bohemund's

proposal that Antioch be given to whoever contrives an

effective strategy; Guibert avoids what may have seemed to

him a cheap play on words, substituting three possibilities,

$ seu vi, seu clam, seu precario, for $ ingenio...vel

ingeniare, the two offered in the $ Gesta Francorum.

   However, like Fulker and the author of the $ Gesta

Francorum, Guibert singles no one out as the first up the

ladder; he reports Pirus' remark about, "few Franks," but in

Latin, not in Greek; and his account of the death of the

Turk's brother is telegraphic:  $ inter quos etiam occiditur

frater Pyrri (p. 187). Shortly before this event, the

Crusaders cry $ Deus id vult, and Pirus is not mentioned for

the remainder of the taking of Antioch.

   Guibert, however, is not yet through with him; twice in

later sections, first after the fall of Jerusalem, and then

during a discussion of the Lance that pierced Christ's side,

the man who betrayed Antioch reappears.  As part of his

attack on the character of Pirus, and his defense of the

authenticity of the Lance[43], Guibert cites Anselm de

Ribourgement's testimony, in agreement with the $ Damascus

Chronicle, that $ three citizens had delivered the city (p.

251).  As part of his general destruction of the character

of Pirus, he makes him, like the medieval Ulysses, a

red-head, and a man who, at the fall of Jerusalem, returned

to Antioch and to paganism:

     Ibi prorsus christianite deserta, veteris luxuria

     et gentilitatis inquinamenta resumpsit. Nec id

     injuria.  Si enim Pyrrus graece, rufus est latine,

     et infidelitatis nota rufus inuritur, isdem ergo a

     sua minime linea exorbitasse probatur. (p. 212)

     There Pyrrus deserted Christianity and returned to

     the lechery and filth of his former paganism. Nor

     was this unfitting. For the name Pyrrus in Greek

     is Rufus in Latin, and the name of Rufus burns

     with the mark of treachery; he is shown by no

     means to have been deprived of his lineage.

   But the attack on Pirus is in support of an attack on

Fulker, whom he spends some time discrediting (pp. 250-251),

not only for his credulity, but for his style:

     Quum enim vir isdem ampullas et sesquipedalia

     verba projiciat, et luridos inanium schematum

     colores exporrigat, nuda rerum mihi gestarum

     exinde libuit membra corripere, meique

     qualiscumque eloquii sacco, potius quam praetexta

     contegere.

     Since this same man produces swollen,

     foot-and-a-half words, pours forth the blaring

     colors of vapid rhetorical schemes, I prefer to

     snatch the bare limbs of the deeds themselves,

     with whatever sack-cloth of eloquence I have,

     rather than cover them with learned weavings.

Thus Guibert insists on having it both ways, offering "the

bare limbs of the deeds themselves," without "learned

weavings," but also interested in exercising his intellect

to the utmost.

   Raoul of Caen spends no time disguising his interest in

displaying rhetorical skill, particularly in panegyric, in

his $ Gesta Tancredi in Expeditione Hierosolymitana, a text

produced after 1112.  His variation on the humility-topos,

for example, indicates the degree to which a rhetorical

scheme, in this case $ annominatio, engrosses his

imagination:

     Mihi ergo relictum sucepi laborem, non utique

     suscepto dignus, sed quia digni dedignantur

     indignatus.

     Therefore I have undertaken the labor left for me,

     not because I am worthy of the undertaking, but

     because I am angry that those who are worthy have

     not deigned to do it.

   In the few lines of his prologue not devoted to praising

Tancredi and Arnulf, and not devoted to producing

pyrotechnical variations on the humility-topos, Raoul offers

to divert his contemporaries from fiction to truth; in

addition, like Guibert, he uses the shortcomings of the

ancients to praise the moderns:

     et illi quidem adinventiones fabulosas ordiuntur;

     militiae Christi victorias tacent hodierni[44].

     They (the poets of antiquity) have composed wild

     fictions, but today's men are silent about the

     victories of Christ's army.

For Raoul, the fall of Antioch satisfies a larger,

comprehensive, antithetical pattern, involving trickery

versus heroism, and, as in Robert the Monk's version, day

versus night:  $ Antiocham noctu dolis, Iherusalem die armis

(p. 603). His Pirus-figure remains anonymous, identified as

a rich Armenian and apostate Christian:  $ vir dives

Armenus, qui, abrenuntiato Christi dogmate, errores

gentilium sequebatur $ (p. 651), whose major motivation for

betraying Antioch is his feeling for his children, and whose

rhetorical competence seems to equal that of Raoul himself.

Fulker had also provided an insensitive leader for Pirus to

betray, but Raoul's is not as rhetorically brutal, perhaps

partly because the pious traitor brings him no account of a

vision.  When the eloquent complaint he composes in the face

of famine fails to move Cassianus, the prince of Antioch (p.

652) -- and when his

brother also rejects his pleas, he climbs down a ladder,

with his twin sons, and makes his way to Bohemund.

   Raoul takes this opportunity to justify the selection of

Bohemund, developing the motif of $ fama, given briefly by

Baldric, into a more elaborate encomium:

     Eum inter ceteros quasi principem orientalis ille

     populus arbitrabatur, quod olim Wiscardo Graeciam

     debellante, Boamundi fama terruerat gentes,

     plurimo certamine gloriosa:  extunc factus Asiae

     celebris, nunc quoque omnium dominus putabatur.

     (p. 652)

     The people of the East thought of him as a prince

     among the others; since Guiscard had once

     conquered Greece, Bohemund's reputation, the

     result of many a success in battle, frightened the

     heathens. Known throughout the East, he was

     thought to be the leader of them all.

Although Raoul is interested in correcting his predecessors'

styles[45], he also is interested in redistributing power

and rhetorical competence among his cast of characters.

   That Raoul's eagerness to attribute to Bohemund

competence in the area of the first function is partly

derived from his eagerness to deprive the Crusader of the

powers of the second function (bestowed upon him earlier by

Robert the Monk) becomes clear a few lines later. When the

Pirus-figure has left his sons as hostages, and returned, by

rope, to his tower in Antioch, Bohemund does not address the

crusaders directly, as he had in the previous texts, but

instead confides his secret weapon to Pope Urban's delegate,

the bishop of Puy, who proceeds to address the troops

himself, in words that resemble those used by Bohemund in

the other texts.

   The task of composing a speech for an ecclesiastic,

combining Christian learning and practical politics, clearly

interests Raoul. His bishop offers the example of Saul, who

offered his daughter and liberty to the man who would fight

Goliath, providing a Biblical analogy that reinforces the

Crusaders' own position, geographically and figuratively.

The bishop then rhetorically questions the substantive

significance of Antioch, granting it only positional

significance, and finally suggests offering the city as a

reward to the man who can capture it. His plan meets

universal approval, thus obviating the need for practical

motivation, like the hords of impending pagans of earlier

texts, to overcome the other crusaders' territorial

passions.

   At this point Bohemund enters the rhetorical transaction,

calling for a more binding $ serement.  Also a master

rhetorician, Raoul's Crusader reminds his audience that

words are not always spoken sincerely, quoting from Ovid's $

Ars Amatoria to provide a worldly allusion to reinforce, and

ironically suggest, a possible contradiction, to the

bishop's idealistic, spiritualized rhetoric. In addition,

Raoul weaves into the speech a play upon the concept of

time, thus providing a variation on a motif that had

intrigued the earlier historians of the First Crusade:

         Tunc Boamundus: "Promissum, inquit, quod

     jurejurando obstringitur jam quasi datum est, ut

     transeat quodammodo futurum in praesens, spes in

     gaudium: quod si soluta ab hoc vinculo tantum sunt

     verba, quid confert autem?

             Pollicitis dives quilibet esse potest (I.44)

     Quare si cupitis ratum fieri, fixumque stare quod

     promittitis, conjuretis.

     A promise, he said, which is confirmed by an oath

     is almost a thing done, as though the future

     becomes the present, and hope turns into joy. But

     if words are not tied to something, what good are

     they? Anyone can be prodigal with promises.  If

     you want something to be confirmed, if you want

     what you promise to stand firm, swear to it.

After everyone has given his oath, Bohemund reveals his plan

to the other Crusader leaders, and the betrayal of Antioch

proceeds apace.

   The Armenian traitor arranges to signal the crusaders by

dropping stones, and a ladder of unspecified material; the

crusaders, more unhesitatingly courageous and well-born than

those described by Robert the Monk, then race honorably and

eagerly to be the first up the ladder. The honor is won by

Gouel (not by Paganus, nor by Fulker) of Chartres this time,

a member of the nobility, whom Raoul compares to the eagle

in $ Deuteronomy xxxii.11:

     Quumque satis firmos struxisset nexus, juventus

     volucris, pennata corpora, accincti gladiis, per

     funes volant: Gouel Carnotensis primus, $ sicut

     aquila provocans pullos suos ad volandum; et super

     eos volitans:  $ vir ille nobilis, et a puero

     nihil esuriens ut laudem neque sitiens, non

     propter vitam laudari, sed propter laudem vivere

     cupiebat (pp. 654-655)

     When the ladder had been tied very firmly, the

     swift young men, the winged bodies, swords girded

     to their sides, flew up the rope. In the lead was

     Gouel of Chartres, flying above them like an eagle

     urging its chicks into the air; he flew ahead of

     them, this noble man, who from the time that he

     was a boy had thirsted only for praise, desiring

     not to be praised for his life, but to live for

     praise.

The heroic antithesis involving life and praise, intended to

clarify, or at least to magnify Gouel's act, is followed by

yet another antithesis, this one to describe the psychology

of the other crusaders as they mount the wall and wait for

reinforcements:

     Primo tacitum est, dum paucitas multitudinem

     formidavit; at ubi multitudo introducta formidinem

     exclusit, jam in leones vertit animus quos aquilis

     similaverat ascensus. (p. 655)

     First there was quiet, while the few feared the

     many; but when many had entered fear was shut out.

     Now the souls of those who had been stirred by the

     eagle were turned into lions.

   Raoul elegantly abbreviates the destruction that follows,

combining his penchant for $ annominatio with a taste for

battle irony like that associated often with $ chanson de

geste.  The towers, for example, guard the bodies of those

who formerly had guarded $ them: sepultos servant a quibus

modo servabantur.  $ No description of the death of the

traitor's brother is included at this point; instead, Raoul

describes the dawn, offering another variation on the

conventions of the $ aubade, not as elaborate as Robert the

Monk's $ aubade in elegiacs, nor as chaste as Baldric's $

dies illuxit.  Envious of the night's pleasures, hideous as

they were, day hurries to Antioch:

     Nox hactenus Christianis obsecuta est: aurora

     rutilat, dies accelerans tantum nocti gaudium,

     invidet. (p. 655)

   If Robert's Pirus is motivated only by the highest ideal

of trustworthiness, and Anon's by a combination of Mammon

and Christ, Albert of Aix's Turk has more clearly practical

motivations[46].  Concerned primarily with producing an

encomium of Godfrey and Robert, Albert reduces the

complexity of Pirus, who is introduced suddenly and

dramatically, as a secret ally to whom Bohemund has given

significant amounts of money, as well as a pledge to marry

his nephew Tancredi to the traitor's daughter. The Turk's

name in Albert's text is not Pirus, but Boemundus, referred

to by the Crusader Bohemund as $ aequivocus meus.  The

change of name may indicate both conversion to Christianity

and the agent of conversion.

   Additional motivation appears, this time supplied by an

anonymous report of a story involving the capture of the

Turk's son:

     Aiunt etiam quidam quod, in assultu et conflictu

     hinc et adhinc dimicantium, adolescens filius

     ejusdem Turci captus, in manus Boemundi forte

     pervenerit, cujus redemptionis causa, pater pueri

     Boemundo coepit privatus fieri. Et ad ultimum

     malens vitam filii, quam omnium inhabitantium

     salutem, perfidiam adversus regem Darianum

     assumpsit, et fidem in restitutione filii cum

     Boemundo iniit, et sic in civitatem fideles

     Christi milites intromisit. (p. 400)

     They say that in the assault and battle, while the

     forces were struggling here and there, the young

     son of the Turk was captured, and by chance came

     into the hands of Bohemund, who was involved in

     releasing him; as a result, the boy's father

     became friendly with Bohemund. Finally, choosing

     to preserve the life of his son rather than to

     protect the safety of all the inhabitants of

     Antioch, he betrayed king Darianus, entered into a

     pact with Bohemund to free his son, and permitted

     the faithful soldiers of Christ to enter the city.

Albert clearly has more sympathy for practical matters, as

his description of the transactions themselves indicates;

for example (p. 401), his Boemundus sends a Lombard

domestic, proficient in Greek, to speak to the traitor (as

Albert regularly calls him), presumably because pagans

cannot be expected to speak Latin, or Western vernaculars,

much less compose, as Robert the Monk's Turk did, elaborate

$ aubades in Latin elegiacs.  In addition, Albert arranges

for a windy night, to prevent the sounds of the Crusaders

climbing the rope from being heard by the hostile Turks.

Uninterested, however, in the possible drama of the

traitor's position, Albert does not provide even one brother

to be killed in the attack on the tower.

   He does, however, devote much more attention than the

previous writers to the moments before ascending the wall,

imagining the soldiers' apprehension $ (metu et nimia

dubietate corda eorum concussa sunt), and providing a

Christian exhortation by Godfrey and Robert (pp. 401-402),

designed to stir them to literal and figurative heights of

Christian heroism. No single crusader receives credit for

being first up the wall, since Albert's primary attention is

given to representing Godfrey and Robert as paradigmatic

Christian leaders. The details he gives about the ladder

they scale -- it is made of bull hide, it breaks, and is

repaired -- will provoke later writers to more extensive

routines.

   In the first half of the twelfth century, sometime after

1118, Orderic Vitalis reworked Baldric of Bourgueil's text.

Working in the non-miraculous, non-judgemental tradition,

focusing on the practical and political aspects of the

story, which often seem merely so much material to be ground

up into elegant $ clausulae.  Baldric of Dole, (upon whose

text Orderic was entirely dependent)[47], Raoul of Caen, and

Guibert, of course, also conceived of themselves as "fine"

writers, but Orderic's text reflects an even greater concern

with the "music" of rhetoric.  For example, three parallel,

rhyming clauses describe how Bohemund motivates Pirus

Datianus; Christ is the primary motivation, with Mammon and

other strategies left deliberately vague:

     Hunc aliquando Buamundus ad Christianitatem $

     incitabat, aliquando ad reddendam civitatem

     multimodis pollicitationibus $ suadebat, et ut vir

     callens nichil intemptatum $ relinquebat.

     Bohemond sometimes urged him to be converted to

     Christianity, sometimes tempted him with all kinds

     of promises to surrender the city and, being a

     practical man, left nothing untried.  (Chibnall V,

     pp. 86-87)

The next sentence continues to describe Bohemund's strategy,

using rhyme to underline the antithesis between the

phenomenal and noumenal results possible:

     Nunc eum pro infortuniis civitati imminentibus

     deterrebat, nunc eum pro praemis copiosis quae a

     Deo gloriose destinantur Christianitati

     alliciebat.

     At one moment he played on his fears of the

     disasters threatening the city, at another he

     wooed him by telling him of the abundant rewards

     which are so gloriously ordained by God for

     Christians (pp. 88-89).

When Pirus yields, Orderic produces a sentence with $ four

rhyming clauses:

     Tandem Pirus famoso amico assensum $ prebuit, et

     tres ei turres suas $ optulit, filiumque suum

     obsidem daturum se $ spopondit, et ut inceptum

     maturarent negocium summopere $ admonuit.

     Finally Firuz yielded to his renowned friend and

     offered him his three towers, promising to give

     his son as a hostage, and urging him to bring the

     enterprise to a conclusion at the earliest

     opportunity.  (pp. 88-89)

   As his variation on the motif of $ fama, Orderic offers a

Vergilian locution, $ fama presage mali, to account for the

change in the other Crusaders' resistance to Bohemund's

proposal for giving Antioch to whoever could win it, $

precio seu vi vel amicicia seu quolibet ingenio (p. 88).

Paganus the Lombard, who was first up the ladder in

Baldric's text, performs the same function in Orderic's,

although now filled with trepidation, a feeling that was

more generally distributed in Baldric's version. Orderic

also indicates that Fulker was second.  Pirus again calls

out, "Heu heu michro Francos echome," as he had in Baudri's

text and in the $ Gesta Francorum, and the Lombard returns

to stir up Bohemond (pp. 90-91), who responds promptly by

taking the tower and seven others as well. The number seven

occurs only in Orderic, perhaps again because of his taste

for resonating nasals.  Pirus' brother  is slain in the

battle, with no judgements or emotions expressed by Orderic,

who incorporates the phrase originally provided by Urban II

primarily to support a sonic pattern of t's, c's, and

nasals:

     Ubicumque igitur obviabantur tanquam oves

     procumbebant et obtruncabantur. Tunc etiam

     couterinus Pirri frater mactatus est.

     Wherever the Christians met them they cut them

     down and slew them like sheep. Even the uterine

     brother of Firuz was killed in that slaughter. pp.

     92-93.

   Less theatrically rhetorical than Orderic or Baldric,

less cantankerous than Guibert, William of Tyre retains a

complex role for the man who betrayed Antioch, in the work

known until recently as $ Historia rerum in partibus

transmarinis gestarum, but now as $ Historia Ierosolymitana

(composed 1167-1184):

     This incident of the betrayal of Antioch seems to

     have appealed strongly to William's fancy.  He not

     only drew upon all his Latin sources, but upon

     Arabic sources as well for information, and then

     allowed his imagination to carry his pen well

     beyond all of them[48].

William's Latin style is equal, perhaps superior to the

earlier historians of the First Crusade, but his penchant

for narrative, and particularly $ argumentum, found free

play in this material: "Only in the story of the First

Crusade did his narrative achieve a genuine

homogeneity."[49]

   According to William, most of the population of Antioch,

including Firouz, at the time of the siege was already

Christian, although disenfranchised:

     pene omnes civitatis habitatores fideles erant,

     sed nullum in civitate habentes potestatem..[50].

     Nearly the entire population were true believers,

     but they were without power in the city[51].

In attributing positive characteristics to Emirfeirus,

William concentrates on his political, rather than his

economic pre-eminence:

     vir potens plurimum et urbis domino multa

     familiaritate coniunctus, ita ut in eius palatio

     notarii fungeretur officio et plurima esset

     insignis dignitate (p. 286).

     He was on terms of intimate friendship with the

     lord of Antioch, who distinguished him by many

     honors. He held the position of secretary in the

     palace and enjoyed many other dignities (p. 243).

His friendship with Bohemundus is produced, as it was in

Baldric, by the Crusader's fame, but William, a trained

lawyer, tells us that both men wisely conceal their

relationship from those around them.  William emphasizes

Emirfirouz' relatively spontaneous offer to betray Antioch,

by giving, as the first extended rhetorical exercise in the

section, an elaborate speech to him, justifying the betrayal

of Antioch on Christian grounds.

   William provides additional motivation by making Firouz'

wife an adulteress[52], who betrays her husband with a

prominent Turk; the son discovers her behavior, and tells

his father.

   William also offers a solution to practical problems that

might have occurred to readers of earlier versions. His

Emirfeirus clears himself of suspicion by recommending

frequent changing of those in charge of the towers to the

leader of Antioch, Axcianus (he and his brother are in

charge of the towers known as the Two Sisters). Such a

problem might have occurred to a reader of Fulker, whose

Pirus recounted to his ruler a dream recommending betrayal.

   William of Tyr also transfers the general fear of

climbing the wall to one man, Paganus, as two previous

writers did.  The testing of his brother is also

significantly different, with the pious traitor killing his

own brother, instead of setting him up for the crusaders.

Like Fulker $ (Audite fraudem non fraudem), he emphasizes

the paradoxical nature of the murder:

     Interea ille vir praedictus turrim eamdem

     ingressus, fratrem reperit somno gravatum, cujus

     quia mentem noverat alienam a suo proposito,

     timens ne per eum rei jam pene consummatae

     ministraretur impedimentum, gladio transverberat,

     $ facto pius et sceleratus eodem (p. 299).

     During that short interval, Firuz had entered the

     tower and found his brother heavy with sleep.

     Since he had ascertained that the latter's

     sentiments were against the project on which he

     himself was bent, he feared lest through his means

     some impediment might be offered to its execution,

     which was now to be completed. Accordingly he gave

     him a fatal thrust with the sword -- an act at

     once pious and wicked (p. 256).

   In William's text, Bohemund is first up the ladder, and

he and Firuz  embrace over the corpse of the latter's

brother, to whom the phrase used by Baldric, possibly

suggested by Urban II, minus the prefix (co-), is applied:

     Et ut ejus et omnium fidelium sibi majorem

     conciliaret gratiam, eo quod $ fratrem uterinum,

     in opere tam sancto non consentientem,

     transverberaverat, inducit eum in turrim, et

     fratrem ostendit exanimem, proprio sanguine

     cruentatum. Deosculatus igitur dominus Boamundus

     viri constantiam et fidei sinceritatem (pp.

     299-300).

     In order to win more favor in the eyes of Bohemond

     and the other Christians, because he had murdered

     his own brother who would not join him in a work

     so holy, he led the chief into the tower and

     showed him the dead body of his brother lying in

     its own gore.  Lord Bohemond embraced that man of

     true and steadfast loyalty with heart-felt emotion

     (p. 256).

   William's additions to the story of Pirus may have come

from "oral tradition," but they may also have resulted from

his taste for fiction, and from his "Vorliebe ... f~r

erotische Begebenheiten."  In addition, none of his

predecessors had done the job well enough to gain the status

of exclusive authority[53].  In his handling of the fall of

Antioch, then, William drew upon a tradition of rhetorical

amplification, including schemes, tropes, $ historia,

argumentum, and $ fabula, that had been perpetuated by Latin

historians, as well as vernacular poets[54], earlier in the

twelfth century. Each writer chose among the voices offered

by his culture -- honest soldier, pious exegete, wrathful

ecclesiastic, aesthetic conoisseur, humble client -- to

represent $ res verae quae factae sunt.  The results are

congruent with the elegant epigram with which Paul Zumthor

momentarily obliterates the distinction between fiction and

history:

     "Historiographie ni roman n'avaient pour fonction

     de prouver une v>rit>, mais de cr>er."[55]

[1] For a densely compacted discussion of this hypothesis,

    see Herbert Grundmann, $ Geschichtsschreibung im

    Mittelalters, G%ttingen, 1965.  For a more extensive,

    lavishly detailed discussion, see Bernard Guen>e, $

    Histoire et culture historique dans l'occident m>di>val,

    Paris, 1980. In English, the argument was popularized by

    R.G.  Collingwood, $ The Idea of History, Oxford, 1946;

    p. 258 gives a useful formulation.

[2] A phenomenon that Edward A. Heineman describes as, "the

    reciprocal interference of history and epic," in his

    review of Regis Boyer, et. al., $ L'epopee, (Typologie

    des sources du moyen age occidental, 49) Turnhout, 1988,

    in $ Speculum 65 (1990), p. 127.

[3] The $ Damascus Chronicle says, "certain of the men of

    Antioch among the armourers of the amir Yaghi Siyan"; $

    Damascus Chronicle transl. A.R. Gibbs, London, 1932, p.

    42.

[4] For further discussion of these terms, see Heinrich

    Lausberg, $ Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik, 2

    vols., Munich, 1960, I.146-240 on structure.  For some

    useful applications of the terms, see Michael Lapidge,

    "Gildas' Education and the Latin Culture of Sub-Roman

    Britain," pp.  41ff., in $ Gildas: New Approaches, ed.

    Michael Lapidge and David Dumville, Woodbridge, 1984.

    Marius Victorinus earlier definition of these terms

    provides an additional element:

     Fabulam dicit esse quae nihil veri nec veri simile

     continet ...  Deinde historia est, inquit, quae

     res veras continet, sed a nostra memoria

     remotas...Argumentum est, quod quidem non est

     factum, sed fiere potuisse creditur. ( $ Rhetores

     Latini minores ed. C. Halm, Leipzig, 1863, p.

     202).

[5] Auerbach, Erich, $ Literary language and its public in

    late antiquity and in the Middle Ages, $ translated by

    Ralph Mannheim, New York, 1965.

[6] B. Krusch, MGH, $ Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum, vol.

    II, Hanover, 1888, p. 1.  For more on Gregory's Latin,

    see Max Bonnet, $ Le latin de Gregoire de Tours, Paris,

    1890.

[7] G>rard Genette, $ Figures of Literary Discourse, New

    York, 1982, p. 140.

[8] See Louis Br>hier's edition and translation, $ Histoire

    anonyme de la premi<re croisade, Paris, 1924, pp.

    xxi-xxii. For a later edition, see Rosalind Hill, $

    Gesta Francorum, London, New York, 1962.

[9] Jeanette Beer, $ Narrative Conventions of Truth in the

    Middle Ages, Geneva, 1981.  See also Bernard Guen>e on

    the topos of the eye-witness, in $ Histoire et culture

    historique dans l'occident m>di>val, Paris, 1980.

    According to Isidore of Seville, among the ancients,

    histories were composed exclusively by eye-witnesses:

     Apud veteres enim nemo conscribebat historiam,

     nisi is qui interfuisset, et ea quae conscribenda

     essent vidisset.  $ Etymologies, I, XLI, ed. W.M

     Lindsay, Oxford, 1911).

For a paradigmatic example of the difficulties generated by

trying to determine whether a medieval text of an historical

nature is the product of an eyewitness, see Stubbs' argument

(RS 38.1) that the $ Itinerarium Regis Ricardi is the

product of an eyewitness of the Third Crusade, then Gaston

Paris' argument that $ L'Estoire de la guerre sainte, Paris,

1897 is the eye-witness account that the author of the $

Itinerarium was translating, and then Hans Eberhard Mayer, $

Das Itinerarium peregrinorum, Stuttgart, 1962, for the

argument that neither is an eye-witness account; see also

the discussion in M.R. Morgan, $ The Chronicle of Ernoul and

the Continuations of William of Tyre, Oxford, 1973, pp. 61

ff..

[10] $ Gesta Francorum, edited and translated by Rosalind

     Hill, London, 1962, p. 44.

[11] According to Br>hier (pp. xxi, and 100-101, n. 3) a

     version of 'Firouz', a symptom of the general

     deformation of Turkish names among the historians of

     the First Crusade.

[12] Br>hier, p. 100.

[13] Br>hier, p. 106.

[14] Two editions are available:  $ Recueil des Historiens

     des Croisades, Historiens Occidentaux $ III, Paris,

     1866, pp. 319-585; $ Fulcheri Carnotensis Historia

     Hierosolymitana, ed. Heinrich Hagenmayer. Heidelberg,

     1913.

[15] $ Fulcheri Carnotensis Historia Hierosolymitana, ed.

     Heinrich Hagenmeyer, Heidelberg, 1913.  He does,

     however, violate his program from time to time to

     insert verse, sometimes apparently of his own

     composition.

[16] Translation by Frances Rita Ryan, $ A History of the

     Expedition to Jerusalem, ed. by Harold S. Fink,

     Knoxville, 1969, p. 58.

[17] "Perhaps" is a more accurate translation of $ forsitan,

     as Edward Peters indicates in $ The First Crusade,

     Philadelphia, 1971.

[18] P. 230, n. 1.

[19] Raymond describes Pirus merely as $ quidam de turcatis,

     qui erat in civitate, per Boamundum principibus

     mandavit nostris quod civitatem nobis redderet $

     (RHC.Occ. III.251), offers Fulker of Chartres as the

     first to scale the wall, and relates that the ladder

     broke.

[20] The scene resembles the one in the $ Gesta Francorum

     (Brehier 133-135), in which Saint Andrew appears more

     than once in his effort to get Peter Bartholomew to dig

     up the Lance that pierced Christ's side.

[21] For an excellent account of the reinventions of the

     Council of Clermont produced by the historians of the

     first Crusade, see John O. Ward, "Some Principles of

     Rhetorical Historiography in the 12th Century," in $

     Classical Rhetoric and Medieval Historiography, edited

     by Ernest Breisach, Kalamazoo, 1985, pp. 127-148.

[22] HC III, p. 721.

[23] $ Op. cit., p. XLVI.

[24] Such a vision may ultimately have been derived from

     Nazarius' panegyric of Constantine; see E. Galletier, $

     Pan>gyriques latins, Paris, 1949-54, 3 volumes, v.2 pp.

     177 ff.  (For a later edition of the text, see C.E.V.

     Nixon and Barbara Saylor Rodgers, $ In Praise of Later

     Roman Emperors, Berkeley, 1994, pp. 358, 615), where

     Constantius and a divine army, recruited from heaven,

     come to the aid of his son Constantine:

       Sed quaenam ille fuisse dicitur species? qui

       vigor corporum?  quae amplitudo membrorum?

       quae alacritas voluntatum? Flagrabant verundum

       nescio quid umbones corusci et caelestium

       armorum lux terribilis ardebat; tales enim

       venerant ut tui crederentur.

In addition, a letter from the clergy and people of Lucca (

$ Epistulae et chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri

spectantes, ed. Heinrich Hagenmeyer, Innsbruck, 1901, p.

167) mentions such a vision.

[25] Robert may here also be recalling and reinventing the

     joke, reported in the $ Gesta Francorum (Br>hier pp.

     116-118), made by the Turkish leader Curbaram, who

     sardonically applies the phrase $ arma bellica et

     nitida to a $ vilissimum ensem rubigine tectum captured

     from a Crusader.

[26] For a useful discussion of providential history, see

     F.P. Pickering, $ Augustinus oder Boethius, Berlin,

     1967, vol. I.  As Pickering represents the problem, a

     medieval writer had to determine whether his sympathies

     lay with a Boethian rejection of the possibility that

     events in the sublunary world  had any permanent

     significance (in which case he could scarcely compose a

     line on events in his own time), or with the

     Augustinian affirmation that God's will is worked out

     in human history.  A secular figure, then, could safely

     command Christian attention only by working out God's

     will through providentially pious acts; only the most

     naive reader, then, would be surprised to find that

     medieval historians bestow the words and deeds of a

     devout athlete of God upon figures and groups in whom

     they have emotional, material, and sometimes

     intellectual investments.

[27] For the standard discussion of the three functions, see

     Georges Duby, $ The Three Orders: Feudal Society

     Imagined Chicago, 1980 (original, Paris, 1978).

[28] $ Epistulae et chartae ad historiam primi belli sacri

     spectantes, $ ed. Heinrich Hagenmeyer, Hildesheim, 1973

     (reprint of 1901 edition).

[29] Ibid, p. 147.

[30] Translation by Jonathan Riley-Smith, $ The First

     Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, Philadelphia, 1986,

     p. 91.

[31] For a useful survey of the genre of the $ aubade, see

     Philipp Augustus Becker, "Vom Morgenhymnus zum

     Tagelied," $ Zur Romanischen Literaturgeschichte,

     Munich, 1967, pp. 149-173, although he does not include

     the earliest Provencal poem, which is also, in a

     military sense, an $ aubade, or $ tageliet ).

[32] For this strategy used to describe the entrance of the

     Crusaders into Jerusalem, see Hill's edition of

     Raymond, p. 15.

[33] $ Historia Hierosolymitana, RHC.HO IV. pp. 1-111; see

     pp. 10-11.

[34] RHC p. 86F.

[35] Hagenmeyer (pp. 206-207) remarks, however, that this

     strategy was implicit in the praise of the Turks to be

     found in the $ Gesta Francorum.

[36] For an analysis of the various representations of

     Urban's performance at Clermont, see D.C. Munro, "The

     Speech of Pope Urban II at Clermont," $ American

     Historical Review XI (1906), pp. 231-242. For

     objections to Munro's technique, see Paul Rousset, $

     Les origines et les caract<res de ka premi<re croisade,

     Geneva, 1945, p. 58.

[37] MPL 151.565.

[38] However, as Jonathan Riley-Smith points out, "All

     reports of Urban's address at the end of the Council of

     Clermont were written after the success of the crusade,

     and the words put into the Pope's mouth reflected these

     subsequent events."  $ op. cit., p. 40.

[39] See M.D. Coupe, "The personality of Guibert de Nogent

     reconsidered," $ Journal of Medieval History IX, no. 4

     [Dec. '83], pp. 317-329 for a summary and judgement of

     the work of J. Kantor, Benton, and others. See Charaud,

     Jacques, "La conception de l'histoire de Guibert de

     Nogent," $ Cahiers de civilisation m>di>vale VIII

     (1965), pp. 381-395, Schreiner, Klaus, "Discrimen veri

     ac falsi," $ Archive fur Kulturgeschicht XLVIII (1966),

     pp. 1-51.  Both are concerned to demonstrate the degree

     to which Guibert's vision of history is ruled by

     theology, and tropology in particular; both articles

     can be read as respectful corrections of Bernard Monod,

     "De la m>thode historique chez Guibert de Nogent," $

     R>vue historique 84 (1904), pp. 51-70. For remarks

     about Guibert's rhetorical habits, see Robert Levine,

     "Satiric Vulgarity in Guibert de Nogent's $ Gesta Dei

     per Francos," Rhetorica 7 (1989), pp. 261-273.

[40] Meyer Schapiro, "On the Aesthetic Attitude in

     Romanesque Art," in $ Art and Thought: Festschrift for

     A.K. Coomaraswamy, ed. K.B. Iyer, London, 1947, pp.

     130-150.

[41] Translated by H. Rushton Fairclough, $ Horace, London,

     1966, p. 465.

[42] $ Heroes and Saracens, Edinburgh, 1984, pp. 179-180.

[43] Raoul of Caen, however, in the course of his general

     attack on Provencals, attacks the authenticity of the

     lance, composing a speech in which Bohemund offers a

     series of substantive historical objections. See Henri

     Glaesener, "Raoul de Caen; historien et >crivain," $

     R>vue d'Histoire Eccl>siastique XLVI (1951), pp. 12-14.

[44] HC III, p. 603D.

[45] For useful remarks on his style and topoi, see

     Jean-Charles Payen, "Une L>gende >pique en gestation:

     Les $ Gesta Tancredi de Raoul de Caen," in $ M>langes

     Ren> Louis, pp. 1051-1062.

[46] No precise date for his 12 books, the first six of

     which deal with the First Crusade, and the second six

     with the Latin kingdom, 1101-1120, has been determined.

[47] $ The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, edited

     and translated by Marjorie Chibnall, volume five,

     Oxford, 1975, p. xiv.  See also Baldwin, $ Crusades, p.

     354, n. 19, for "curious and garbled affinity" between

     Orderic and Albert of Aix.

[48] E.A. Babcock and A.C. Krey, $ A History of Deeds Done

     Beyond the Sea, New York, 1943, I. p. 241.

[49] Peter Edbury and John Gordon Rowe, $ William of Tyre,

     Cambridge, 1988, p. 167.

[50] $ Guillaume de Tyre Chronique, ed. R.B.C. Huygens,

     Turnholt, 1986, p. 286.

[51] Babcock and Krey, p. 241.

[52] An aspect of William's imagination which Peter Knoch

     calls "eine gewisse Vorliebe ... f~r erotische

     Begebenheiten."  ( $ Studien zur Albert von Aachen,

     Stuttgart, 1966, p. 207, n. 26). Both William and the

     author of the $ Chanson d'Antioche, increase the role

     of the third function in the story. In the vernacular

     poem, Datien, the Pirus-figure, piously hurls his wife

     from a tower in order to prevent her from revealing his

     treacherous intentions (see note 52).

[53] As Edbury and Rowe point out, although he used an

     Arabic work for his Oriental History, "When he wrote

     the $ Historia he not only used no Greek or Arabic

     text, he lacked any work he could treat as an

     authority."  ( $ op. cit., Cambridge, 1988, p. 45).

[54] For the most elaborate vernacular reinvention of the

     fall of Antioch, relying primarily upon Albert of Aix

     and Robert the Monk, see the $ Chanson d'Antioche, ed.

     Suzanne Duparc-Quioc, Paris, 1977-78.

[55] $ (Langue, texte, >nigme, Paris, 1975, p. 245.