Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations 9789048537532

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Papacy, Crusade, and Christian–Muslim Relations

Pope Church, Faith and Culture in the Medieval West The essential aim of this series is to present high quality, original and international scholarship covering all aspects of the Medieval Church and its relationship with the secular world in an accessible form. Publications have covered such topics as The Medieval Papacy, Monastic and Religious Orders for both men and women, Canon Law, Liturgy and Ceremonial, Art, Architecture and Material Culture, Ecclesiastical Administration and Government, Clerical Life, Councils and so on. Our authors are encouraged to challenge existing orthodoxies on the basis of the thorough examination of sources. These books are not intended to be simple text books but to engage scholars worldwide. The series, originally published by Ashgate, has been published by Amsterdam University Press since 2018. Series editors: Brenda Bolton, Anne J. Duggan and Damian J. Smith

Papacy, Crusade, and Christian–Muslim Relations

Edited by Jessalynn L. Bird

Amsterdam University Press

Cover illustration: Louis IX besieges Damietta. With the kind permission of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, from Jean de Joinville, Vie de Saint Louis, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, MS Français 13568, fol. 83 (c.1330–1340 AD), a manuscript owned by Charles V and Charles VI of France. Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout isbn 978 94 6298 631 2 e-isbn 978 90 4853 753 2 doi 10.5117/9789462986312 nur 684 | 704 © J. L. Bird / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2018 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book.

Essays in Memory of James M. Powell

Contents Abbreviations 9 Introduction 13 Jessalynn Bird

Part I.  Peace, Crusading, and the Religious Life 1. Lay Initiative in the Early Peace of God Movement, 980–1020

21

2. The Sermons of Pope Honorius III

45

3. Preambles to Crusading: the arengae of Crusade letters issued by Innocent III and Honorius III

63

Mary S. Skinner

Iben Fonnesberg-Schmidt

Thomas W. Smith

Part II.  Crusades and the Islamic World 4. Tolerance for the Armies of Antichrist: life on the frontiers of twelfth-century Outremer

81

5. Pisan Migration Patterns along Twelfth Century Eastern Mediterranean Trade Routes

97

Jay Rubenstein

Matthew E. Parker

6. Innocent III and the Beginning of the Fourth Crusade

117

7. The Preacher and the Pope: Jacques de Vitry and Honorius III at the time of the Fifth Crusade (1216–27)

131

Edward Peters

Jan Vandeburie

8. Rogations, Litanies, and Crusade Preaching: the liturgical front in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries

155

9. The Stones of Damietta: remembering the Fifth Crusade

195

10. Pro Deo et Amore Marchionis: Honorius III, William VI of Montferrat, and the Fifth Crusade in Greece

211

11. Tribute, Islamic Law, and Diplomacy: the legal background to the Tunis Crusade of 1270

225

Jessalynn Bird

Megan Cassidy-Welch

Ben Halliburton

Michael Lower

Index 247

Abbreviations Acta imperii Annales monastici ASV BAV CCCM CCSL CIC COD

Crusade and Christendom

EHR Gesta Inn. III Hist. Occ. Hist. Or. Hist. Friderici Hon. III opera Hoogeweg

HPM SS Innocenzo III

J. de Vitry, Lettres

Acta imperii selecta, ed. J.F. Böhmer, 2 vols (Innsbruck, 1870) Annales monastici, ed. H.R. Luard, 5 vols, RS 36 (London, 1864–9) Archivio Segreto Vaticano Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio mediaevalis (Turnhout, 1953–) Corpus Christianorum, series latina (Turnhout, 1953–) Corpus iuris canonici, ed. E. Friedberg, 2 vols (Leipzig, 1879–81) Conciliorum oecumenicorum decreta, ed. J. Alberigo et al., 3rd edn (Bologna, 1973); the same text, with the same pagination, is available with an English translation: Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils, ed. N.P. Tanner, 2 vols (Georgetown, 1990) Crusade and Christendom: annotated documents in translation from Innocent III to the fall of Acre, 1187–1291, ed. J. Bird, et al. (Philadelphia PA, 2013) English Historical Review The Deeds of Pope Innocent III, trans. J.M. Powell (Washington DC, 2004) The Historia occidentalis of Jacques de Vitry: a critical edition, ed. J.F. Hinnebusch (Fribourg, 1972) Jacques de Vitry, Histoire orientale = Historia orientalis, ed. and trans. J. Donnadieu (Turnhout, 2008) Historia diplomatica Friderici secundi, ed. J.L.A. HuillardBréholles, 6 vols (Paris, 1852–61) Honorii III: opera omnia, ed. C.A. Horoy, 5 vols (Paris, 1879–82) Die Schriften des Kölner Domscholasters späteren Bishops von Paderborn und Kardinal-Bishops von S. Sabina, Oliverus, ed. H. Hoogeweg (Tübingen, 1894) Historiae patriae monumenta: scriptores Innocenzo III: urbs et orbis. Atti del Congresso Internazionale Roma, 9–15 settembre 1998, ed. A. Sommerlechner, 2 vols (Rome, 2003) Jacques de Vitry. Lettres, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, new edn, CCCM 171 (Turnhout, 2000), 491–657

10 Abbreviations JEH Mansi

MGH MGH Epistolae selectae MGH SRG

MGH SS NMT ODNB Peace of God

PL Potthast

Powell, Anatomy Powell, Crusades Powell, Muslims Powell, Papacy Quinti Belli Reg. Greg. IX Reg. Hon. III Reg. Inn. III

Journal of Ecclesiastical History Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collection, ed. G.D. Mansi, et al., 53 vols (Florence/Venice, 1759–1886; repr. Paris, 1901–27) Monumenta Germaniae historica Epistolae saeculi XIII e regestis pontificum Romanorum selectae per G.H. Pertz, ed. C. Rodenberg, 3 vols (Berlin, 1883–94) Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum ex Monumentis Germaniae historicis separatim editi, 61 vols, (Hanover, et alibi, 1839–1935; variously re-edited and reprinted) Scriptores (in folio), 32 vols in 34 (Hanover, 1826–1934) Nelson’s Medieval Texts Oxford Dictionary of National Biography The Peace of God: social violence and religious response in France around the year 1000, ed. T. Head and R. Landes (Ithaca NY, 1992) Patrologia cursus completus, series latina (Patrologia latina), ed. J.-P. Migne, 221 vols (Paris, 1841–64) A. Potthast, Regesta pontificum romanorum inde ab a. post Christum natum MCXCVIII ad a. MCCCIV, 2 vols (Berlin, 1874–5; repr. Graz, 1957) J.M. Powell, Anatomy of a Crusade, 1213–1221 (Philadelphia PA, 1986) The Crusades, the Kingdom of Sicily and the Mediterranean, ed. J.M. Powell (Aldershot, 2007) Muslims under Latin Rule, 1100–1300, ed. J.M. Powell (Princeton NJ, 1990) J.M. Powell, The Papacy, Frederick II and Communal Devotion in Medieval Italy, ed. E. Peters (Aldershot, 2014) Quinti Belli sacri scriptores minores, ed. R. Röhricht (Geneva, 1879) Les registres de Gregoire IX, ed. L. Auvray, 4 vols in 3 (Paris, 1896–1908) Regesta Honorii Papae III (1216–1227), ed. P. Pressutti, 2 vols (Rome, 1888–95) Die Register Innocenz’ III, ed. O. Hageneder, et al., Publikationen des historischen Instituts beim Österreichischen Kulturinstitut in Rom, Abt. 2, Quellen, Reihe 1 (Vienna, 1964–)

Abbreviations

Regesta imperii

RHC Oc.

RHG RS

SCH Schneyer, Repertorium

Testimonia minora Tolerance and Intolerance VDC

11 Regesta imperii V. Jüngere Staufer 1198–1272. Die Regesten des Kaiserreichs unter Philipp, Otto IV, Friedrich II, Heinrich (VII), Conrad IV, Heinrich Raspe, Wilhelm und Richard, 1198–1272, ed. J.F. Böhmer, rev. by J. Ficker and E. Winkelmann, 3 vols in 5 (Innsbruck, 1881–1901); Nachträge und Ergänzungen (vol. 4, pt 6), ed. P. Zinsmaier (Cologne, 1983) Recueil des historiens des croisades: Historiens occidentaux, ed. Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres, 5 vols (Paris, 1844–95) Recueil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, ed. M. Bouquet, 24 vols (Paris, 1738–1904) Rolls Series: Rerum Britannicarum medii aevi scriptores: chronicles and memorials of Great Britain and Ireland during the Middle Ages, published … under the direction of the Master of the Rolls, 99 vols (London, 1858–96) Studies in Church History (London, 1964–) Repertorium der Lateinischen Sermones des Mittelalters für die Zeit von 1150–1350, ed. J.-B. Schneyer, 11 vols (Münster, 1969–90) Testimonia minora de Quinto Bello sacro, ed. R. Röhricht (Geneva, 1882) Tolerance and Intolerance: social conflict in the age of the crusades, ed. J.M. Powell and M. Gervers (Syracuse, 2001) Peter of Vaux-de-Cernay, Hystoria albigensis, ed. P. Guébin and E. Lyon, 3 vols (Paris, 1926–39)

Introduction Jessalynn Bird Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/intr

The essays collected in this volume represent the fruition of multiple sessions held in memory of Jim Powell (1930–2011) at the Midwest Medieval History Conference (2011), the annual meeting of the Medieval Academy of America (2012), the Western Michigan Medieval and Renaissance Conference at Kalamazoo (2012), the International Medieval Congress at Leeds (2012), and also at Syracuse University (2012), where Jim taught for over thirty years. These scholarly tributes bore eloquent testimony to Jim’s beneficence, generosity, and intellectual influence on a wide range of academics working in fields as various as religious movements (from lay devotion and sermons to the Teutonic Order, the Trinitarians, Dominicans, and Franciscans), the crusades, the papacy and its relations with imperial and royal powers (notably Frederick II), Christian–Jewish–Islamic relations, and Italian communes. Further witness to Jim as a historian and as a fine human being came in the sensitive introduction by Edward Peters to the posthumous collection of Jim’s essays printed in the former Ashgate Variorum series and a moving obituary written by Kenneth Pennington.1 Although some of the papers presented in Jim’s honour are being published elsewhere, the essays presented here not only pay homage to Jim’s lifetime accomplishments but also seek to highlight his contributions by pushing even further the boundaries of the fields in which he worked so fruitfully (perhaps at the risk of comparison to those medieval peasants rebuked by preachers for shifting boundary stones and encroaching on the carefully cultivated lands of others).2 1 E. Peters, ‘Introduction: James M. Powell, historian’, in Powell, Papacy, ix–xv and K. Pennington, ‘Obituary for James M. Powell’, Catholic Historical Review, 96 (2011), 633–5, repr. Powell, Papacy, xiii–xv. 2 For this image as it appears in the exegesis of Proverbs 23: 10–11, see E.M. Peters, ‘Transgressing the Limits Set by the Fathers: authority and impious exegesis’, in Christendom and Its Discontents: exclusion, persecution and rebellion, 1000–1500, ed. S.L. Waugh and P.D. Diehl (Cambridge, 1996), 338–62. The warning against moving boundary stones was also applied literally in contemporary sermons to farmers.

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Mary Skinner’s contribution on ‘Lay Initiative in the Early Peace of God Movement, 980–1020’ is a fitting opening to the volume as it examines a subject which was to be treated by Jim in many incarnations: peace. Jim was profoundly dedicated to reexamining the complexities of the concept and practice of peace and the way in which it interlaced with religious movements embraced by the laity, including confraternities, the mendicant orders, and the crusades. His groundbreaking observations on the importance of peace negotiations and reform to Innocent III, Honorius III, and lay participants in the Fifth Crusade and the later crusade of Frederick II,3 his contextualization of Albertanus of Brescia’s involvement in communal and confraternal life and lay preaching, 4 and his treatments of the missions of St Francis to al-Kamil in Egypt5 all dwelt on the conceptualization and realization of the ideal of peace, as did some of his most recent work on communal life in Italy,6 undertaken in preparation for an anticipated monograph on urban culture in thirteenth-century Italy. The following essays in the first part of this volume are devoted to topics equally central to Jim’s labours as a historian. The edition and translation of the Deeds of Pope Innocent III7 and his collection of essays on the historiography of Innocent III, provocatively entitled Innocent III: vicar of Christ or lord of the world?8 reflect Jim’s efforts, together with those of historians such as Brenda Bolton, to recontextualize the significance of Innocent III’s papacy. He also crucially rehabilitated Honorius III, previously viewed as a doddering successor to the vigorous Innocent III, as a prescient and adept pope who possessed his own unique view of church reform and papal–imperial relations.9 Jim also undertook pioneering work by using sermons and sermon literature as a window into medieval thought and culture, not only for Albertanus of Brescia but as a means of reassessing the self-image and goals of Innocent III and Honorius III. As a result of Jim’s significant exploration of Honorius III, interest in this formerly neglected pontificate has boomed. A reappraisal of Honorius’s approach to the East 3 Powell, Papacy, ch. XIV; Powell, Anatomy. 4 J.M. Powell, Albertanus of Brescia: the pursuit of happiness in the early thirteenth century (Philadelphia PA, 1992). 5 Powell, Papacy, ch. XI; Powell, Crusades, ch. XIII. 6 Powell, Papacy, chs XIX–XXV. 7 The Deeds of Pope Innocent III by an Anonymous Author, trans. J.M. Powell (Washington DC, 2004). 8 Innocent III: vicar of Christ or lord of the world?, ed. J.M. Powell, 2nd edn (Washington DC, 1994). 9 See, for example, Powell, Anatomy; Powell, Crusades, ch. XI.

Introduc tion

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and an edition of some of his letters have been recently published by PierreVincent Claverie, while selections from Honorius’s registers on Frankish Greece and Constantinople have been recently edited by Christopher Schabel and William Duba.10 Another important treatment of Honorius’s relations with the East has recently been published by Thomas W. Smith.11 The essay by Iben Fonnesberg-Schmidt in this volume extends Jim’s research on Honorius III’s sermons as a means of gaining insight into papal self-perception,12 while Thomas W. Smith’s analysis of the arengae of crusade encyclicals produced during the pontificates of Innocent III and Honorius III reveals important differences in their approach to crusading. Exploring the relatively little-known crusade of William VI of Montferrat, Ben Halliburton helps to revise further our perception of Honorius III (and his successor Gregory IX) through a reevaluation of their attempts to salvage a viable crusade (or rather crusades) from the aftermath of the defeat at Damietta. Jim devoted a considerable portion of his scholarly life to the study of the crusades, not only in his award-winning Anatomy of a Crusade: 1217–1221, but in a steady stream of perceptive articles on the historiography of the crusades from their initiation to their eventual demise.13 It was at his insistence and with his crucial partnership (without which the project would never have come to fruition), that he, Edward Peters and Jessalynn Bird produced a collection of sources entitled Crusade and Christendom: annotated documents in translation from Innocent III to the fall of Acre, 1187–1291. Jim’s conscientious editing of the final draft of this book was one of his final projects and reflected his dedication to a careful reading and appreciation of primary source material of all stripes. It was work on this volume which inspired Edward Peters’ magisterial reassessment of Innocent III’s attempts to launch the Fourth Crusade, which must be coloured by an appreciation of the disasters which preceded it rather than retrospectively dominated by the spectre of a sacked Constantinople.14 The importance of papal legates for the successful organization of joint crusade and reform efforts treated by Powell is reinforced by Jan Vandeburie’s 10 P.-V. Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient (1216–1227): Étude et publication de sources inédites des Archives vaticanes (ASV) (Leiden, 2013); Bullarium Hellenicum: Pope Honorius III’s letters involving Frankish Greece and Constantinople, ed. W. Duba and C. Schabel (Turnhout, 2013). 11 T.W. Smith, Curia and Crusade: Pope Honorius III and the recovery of the Holy Land, 1216–1227 (Turnhout, 2017). 12 Powell, Papacy, chs VI–IX. 13 Powell, Papacy, chs XVII–XVIII. 14 For Jim’s own view of the Fourth Crusade, see idem, ‘Innocent III and Alexius III: a crusade plan that failed’, in Powell, Papacy, ch. VI.

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depiction of Jacques de Vitry’s career in the East as Honorius III’s war correspondent and reporter and corrector of political and religious conditions in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. Jim likewise recognized early on the essential nature of the processions and prayers instituted by Innocent III for the crusade and the interweaving of crusade and reform and peace efforts in expanding participation in the crusade to social groups, including women.15 My own essay examines how preachers and liturgists described the significance of these processions to their participants and how prayers, processions, and sermons served to unite the home and military fronts on the Albigensian and Fifth Crusades. Megan Cassidy-Welch richly illustrates how the memory of the capture of Damietta during the Fifth Crusade impacted representations of Louis IX’s crusade and French perceptions of crusading in the thirteenth century and beyond, much as Jim himself probed how the image of the First Crusade was employed in histories, papal bulls, and sermons.16 Lastly, but certainly not least, Jim himself made several signif icant contributions to the reappraisal of Christian–Muslim relations in Sicily, in Spain, in the Holy Land, and in Egypt. Jay Rubenstein’s evocative essay similarly examines how complex attitudes towards the peoples whom the crusaders found living in the Holy Land shifted over time to something approximating Christopher MacEvitt’s ‘rough tolerance’ (although recently arrived Westerners would always suspect those who settled in the Holy Land of ‘going native’ or ‘going soft’). Matthew Parker follows in Jim’s footsteps with his creative fusion of the study of Italy, the crusades, and Christian–Muslim relations which traces Pisa’s attempts to establish a trading presence in the Holy Land, Constantinople, and Alexandria. He draws a fascinating picture of the political, economic, and military interactions of the Pisans with Muslim, Byzantine, and Latin Christian powers Outremer. Michael Lower, one of the few crusade historians versed in Arabic as well as western languages, gives us an important reexamination of Muslim attitudes towards both peace treaties with and paying tribute to Christian powers in the later thirteenth century. All three papers call into question the assumed categories so often applied to Christian–Muslim relations in the Mediterranean, categories such as ‘tolerance’, ‘persecution’, and ‘convivencia’ which Powell largely imploded in his examination of Frederick II’s treatment of Muslims in Sicily and in the collections of essays he edited as Tolerance and Intolerance: social conflict in the age of the crusades (with the collaboration of Michael Gervers) 15 Powell, Crusades, ch. IV; Powell, Anatomy. 16 Powell, Crusades, ch. II.

Introduc tion

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and as Muslims under Latin Rule, 1100–1300.17 As in any project involving scholars dispersed over many continents with obligations too Sisyphean to list here, there have been the inevitable delays and setbacks. But I think that Jim would be proud of what has been brought together here, which we fondly dedicate to his memory. Special thanks must be given here to Edward Peters, John Smedley, and Michael Powell for their support for this project, to Damian Smith, Anne Duggan, and Brenda Bolton as series editors, and to the contributors for their perseverance and patience. About the author: Jessalynn Bird, Saint Mary’s College, Notre Dame, IN

17 Powell, Crusades, chs III, XII, XIV.

Part I Peace, Crusading, and the Religious Life

1.

Lay Initiative in the Early Peace of God Movement, 980–1020 Mary S. Skinner

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch01 Abstract In the tenth-century peace movement, all ranks of society, clerical and lay, tried to end wars and suppress violence. Clergy, warriors, and armed peasants alike swore on holy relics oaths to maintain the peace, protect the unarmed, and respect the property of the church. These peace councils demanded settlements by force of law and not by violence. Although called by bishops, the presence of a ducal entourage was by 1000 a powerful sanction. Courts of both bishop and count dealt with outbreaks of violence between councils. Hostages ensured good behaviour. The church threatened excommunication and interdict on peace-breakers. Cooperation between lay and ecclesiastical leaders helped make these early peace councils effective. They marked the last stage of Carolingian collaboration between clergy and laity, powerful and poor, in an effort to govern by a combination of spiritual authority and law rather than naked force. Keywords: Peace of God, peace councils, violence in the tenth century, episcopal power, laity in the Carolingian church, lordship in early Capetian France, law and order in the tenth century

Introduction The tenth century, sometimes known as the Century of Iron, was inured to violence and tolerant of war, as indeed we still are today.1 The early peace movement was a special moment in history when all ranks of society, 1 See, for example, Il Secolo di Ferro: mito e realità del X secolo, Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 19–25 aprile 1990 (Spoleto, 1991).

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clerical and lay, worked together through institutional channels and family networks, and by a show of power, secular and supernatural, tried to limit local violence. The earliest gatherings were led by bishops, who were also counts, and then later by counts and dukes in cooperation with their bishops. The peace councils were dramatic events, gathering monks, clergy, nobility, knights, and peasants. Abbots and monks brought the relics of the saints in elaborate processions, miracles often abounding, and on these relics, clergy, warriors, and armed peasants alike swore oaths to maintain the peace, protect unarmed clergy and peasants, and respect the property of the church. Monastic historians chronicled the events, described the miracles of the saints, and preserved the canons of the peace councils. They interpreted the councils as part of a reform movement led by monasteries, such as Cluny.2 As a result, the liberty and independence of the monks (and their property), as well as the morality of clergy and laity, would become their foremost concerns. Lay people took initiative in four of the earliest meetings for peace. I examine an assembly at Laprade near Le Puy in the Auvergne around 980 called by a bishop who was also a count. There was an example, if ever, of the blurring of sacred and secular! Secondly, I consider the religious and social dimensions of lay participation in the first ‘official’ council at Charroux near Poitiers in 989 that convened rival bishops from Gascony and Aquitaine with their duke–counts hovering in the background. Third, I examine the Council of Limoges in 994 summoned by the counts in the presence of the saints’ relics to ward off an epidemic. Here the nobility swore to support episcopal injunctions for peace. Finally, I discuss a council held at Poitiers around the year 1000. Again, the counts called the council, but the sanctions it imposed were not only episcopal but secular as miscreants were commanded to submit to the comital courts. There were other councils linked to the Peace through 1030, when the movement began to tolerate limited war in the Truce of God. These four examples will hopefully suffice to illustrate lay leadership within French communities that took a stand against local war, injustice, disease, and social violence. In many aspects of this article I am indebted to Professor James Powell, who was my dissertation director at Syracuse University. Throughout his scholarly work on the leadership of crusades by powerful thirteenth-century popes, he emphasized their efforts to maintain unity and peace in Europe for the benefit of ordinary people. In Anatomy of a Crusade, 1213–1221, James Powell wrote: 2 R.I. Moore, ‘The First European Peace Movement, or Virtue Rewarded’, Medieval History, 2 (1992), 28–33.

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The eleventh-century peace movement, which had fostered the Truce of God and the Peace of God, had gained additional support in the effort of the papacy to divert warfare from Europe to the East. The crusade had placed the papacy securely at the head of efforts to promote internal peace and had thus bound an internal grass-roots movement to its program for the restoration of Christian unity.3

Powell explored the possibilities of peace in his article on St Francis of Assisi’s intervention at the siege of Damietta in the Fifth Crusade and his analysis of the writings of Albertanus of Brescia on the vendetta and efforts to keep the peace in the early Italian communes. 4 Although best known for his work on the papacy and the crusades, Professor Powell encouraged me to explore the origins of these developments. I began by studying the local church, secular power, and mechanisms of peace in the tumultuous but creative tenth century. Although we worked in different centuries, regions, and sources, he read my articles and encouraged my studies far beyond graduate school. He would be pleased, I think, that I am now returning to some of the issues of church and state and religious and lay authority that I first explored in my doctoral dissertation.

Historiography To study the Peace of God movement is to plunge into a historiographical whirlpool. All agree that lay lords, knights and peasants were present, but not upon their roles and significance. Peasants have been depicted as gullible country bumpkins manipulated by the monks with their show of relics.5 Lesser lords or castellans have been portrayed as vicious bandits out to seize lands of the church and harass the poor, and their violence the target of the peace movement. The greater aristocracy has been presented as weak and unable to keep the peace in royal lands they had inherited so 3 Powell, Anatomy, 20. 4 J.M. Powell, ‘Francesco d’Assisi e la quinta crociata: una missione di pace’, Schedi medievale, 4 (1983), 68–77; J.M. Powell, Albertanus of Brescia: the pursuit of happiness in the thirteenth century (Philadelphia PA, 1992), 74–89, 107–20. 5 The role and attitudes of the people [populus] are notoriously diff icult to discern. Two thoughtful considerations by Janet Nelson, Review of The Peace of God: social violence and religious response in France around the year 1000, Speculum, 69 (1994) 163–9, at 166–7 and C. Taylor, ‘The Year 1000 and Those Who Labored’, The Year 1000: religious and social response to the turning of the first millennium, ed. M. Frassetto (New York, 2002), 167–236, esp. 210–25.

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that the church was forced to step in with its spiritual weapons.6 These older interpretations compete for precedence even in the work of recent historians. Frederick Paxton asked for ‘a commitment to seeing the Peace in its own terms’ in its legal, social, and religious dimensions.7 We must be careful of filtering the Peace of God movement through lenses that may distort it. One of these is ‘the mutation of the year 1000’ that interprets the Peace as a reaction to feudal chaos caused by a new class of renegade castellan knights. However, royal power had not yet devolved upon a new class of independent knights who were terrorizing the countryside from their recently built or conquered castles. The words milites and castelli are rare in the documents before 1030. 8 Violence and the extortion of lands and rights indeed occurred, prompting the peace councils, but it was the king’s peace rendered justly by the count’s agents which was at stake, not feudal anarchy. The monarchy (Carolingian or Capetian) was still in place if not always effective. If there were no new class of knights and castellans ravaging the countryside, mounted lay troops, who propagated mayhem, must have been those of the nobility charged with keeping the peace. The Peace of God movement has been considered part of Marc Bloch’s second age of feudalism, which is not accurate. The situation was still Bloch’s first feudal age before vassalage and fief combined to bind lesser lords to greater. Allodial or privately owned property, rather than fiefs, characterizes the tenth century. The counts and dukes enrolled their fideles as commanders of armies, judges, and fiscal agents in hopes of keeping the peace, a duty entrusted to them by the often absent king.9 Some scholars have argued that peace councils have been exaggerated by modern historians because of the colourful descriptions in the sources 6 R. Bonnaud-Delamare, ‘Les institutions de paix dans la province écclésiastique de Reims au XIme siècle’, Bulletin philologique et historique du comité des travaux historiques (1955–6) (Paris, 1957), 143–200, esp. 143–65, 198–200. He argues that bishops first acted as agents of the king, but then on their own. 7 Peace of God, 39–40. On the historiography of the ‘mutation of the year 1000’, see also D.S. Milo, Trahir le temps (histoire) (Paris, 1991), 63–100; E. Peters, ‘Mutations, Adjustments, Terrors, Historians, and the Year 1000’, The Year 1000, 9–28; T.N. Bisson, ‘The Feudal Revolution’, Past and Present, 142 (1994), 6–42; D. Barthélemy and S.D. White, ‘Debate on the Feudal Revolution’, Past and Present, 152 (1996), 196–223 and T. Reuter, C. Wickham, and T.N. Bisson, ‘Debate: the feudal revolution’, Past and Present, 155 (1997), 177–225. 8 J. Paul, ‘Les conciles de paix aquitains antérieurs à l’an mil’, Année mille an mil, ed. C. Carozzi and H. Taviani-Carozzi (Aix-en-Provence, 2002), 177–209, esp. 198–201. 9 M. Bloch, Feudal Society, 2 vols, trans. L.A. Manyon, (Chicago, 1961), i, 145–76 and ii, 394–420.

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and their rare inclusion of all groups in society.10 The Chronicles of Flodoard, Richer, and Adémar offer blow-by-blow accounts of the civil wars between the Carolingians and Capetians that led to the election of Hugh Capet in 989.11 No sooner was he established than wars began again between the victorious Robertian/Capetians and their challengers, Tetbald and Odo of Blois. Peace treaties with an exchange of hostages seemed frequent but ephemeral. The peace movement has relatively little press in Richer and there are reasons to distrust some accounts of Adémar. Raoul Glaber offers the most vivid description of the peace councils and their impact on society. It was then that the bishops and other devout men of Aquitaine first summoned great councils of the whole people, to which were borne the bodies of many saints and innumerable caskets of holy relics. The movement spread to Arles and Lyons, then across all Burgundy into the furthest corners of the French realm. Throughout the dioceses it was decreed that in fixed places the bishops and magnates of the entire country should convene councils for reestablishing the peace and consolidating the holy faith. When the people heard this, great, middling and poor, they came rejoicing and ready, one and all, to obey the commands of the clergy no less than they had been given by a voice from heaven speaking to men on earth. For all were cowed by the recent carnage, and feared that they might not obtain future abundance and plenty.12

Despite relatively little coverage in the contemporary chronicles, the peace movement has caught the imagination of modern historians with a variety of interpretations.13 10 Paxton, ‘History, Historians’, in Peace of God, 37; J. Dunbabin, France in the Making, 843–1180 (Oxford, 1985), 151–2. 11 The Annals of Flodoard of Reims, 919–966, ed. and trans. S. Fanning and B.S. Bachrach (Peterborough, Ontario, 2004), 56–68 (34A–48B); Richer of Saint-Rémi, Histories, ed. J. Lake, 2 vols (Cambridge, 2011), 199–207 (iv.1–24), 360–439 (iv.75–109); Richer, Histoire de France, ed. R. Latouche, 2 vols (Paris, 1937), ii, 145–82 (iv.1–24), 268–333 (iv. 75–108); Rodulfi Glabri, Historiarum libri quinque, ed. J. France (Oxford, 1989), 104–169 (iii.5–40); Adémar de Chabannes, Chronique, ed. J. Chavanon (Paris, 1897) 149–77 (iii. 28–54); Adémar de Chabannes, Chronique, trans. Y. Chauvin and G. Pon (Turnhout, 2003), 232–67 (iii.28–54). 12 All translations are by the article’s author, unless otherwise noted. See Rodulf i Glabri, Historiarum, 194–7, at 194–5 (iv.14–16, at 14), also in L’an mille: oeuvres de Liutprand, Raoul Glaber, Adémar de Chabannes, Adalbero and Helgaud, ed. E. Pognon (Paris, 1947), 120; Moore, ‘Peace Movement’, 28–33, at 28. 13 Note how little the chronicles actually contain on the peace councils; see Adémar, Chronique, 33, 244–5 (iii.35); Rodulfi Glabri, Historiarum, lxiii–lxiv, lxx, 194–7 (iv.14–16). I cannot find any mention in Richer, who concerns himself mostly with conflicts over the archbishopric of Reims.

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Kings Hugh and Robert, Counts Odo and Tetbald of Blois, Fulk and Geoffrey of Anjou, and Duke William the Great tried to keep peace in the realms they had wrested from the Carolingian kings. These princes were often at war with one another, and the chronicles demonstrate how costly these civil wars were to the general population. However, it seems to have been more local violence that is the complaint of the peace councils.14 The great lords themselves called the councils in an attempt to curb the violence of those who were their friends, followers, and fideles. Dominique Barthélemy takes the wind from the sails of the movement depicting it as business-as-usual in a post-Carolingian, proto-feudal society, where apparently new knights were really old nobles and peasants were sinking in a mire of serfdom under many names (servi, mancipia, colliberti). The popular enthusiasm and apocalyptic expectations, for him, were of little moment.15 Hans Werner Goetz who likewise does not subscribe to ‘the mutation of the year 1000’, tends to see the peace movement as reinforcing a slowly evolving ‘seigneurial system’.16 I see continuity between late antiquity, the Carolingian world and the tenth century including law, monarchy, dispute settlement, church traditions, families, classes, and social structures.17 I also see the laity, from noble 14 P. Geary, ‘Living with Conflicts in Stateless France: a typology of conflict management mechanisms, 1050–1200’, in Living with the Dead in the Middle Ages (Ithaca NY, 1994), 125–60, esp. 144–60. 15 D. Barthélemy, The Serf, the Knight and the Historian, trans. G. Edwards (Ithaca NY, 2009) 1–11, 245–313, esp. 264–74. He describes feuds as self-regulating and maintaining social relations in ‘Hommages, Vengeances et Trahisons au Xe siècle d’après Flodoard et Richer de Reims’, in La vengeance, 400–1200, ed. D. Barthélemy, et al. (Rome, 2006), 149–58. See also Barthélemy, ‘La Paix de Dieu dans son contexte (989–1041)’, Cahiers de civilisation médiéval, 40 (1997), 3–35. 16 H.-W. Goetz, ‘Protection of the Church, Defense of the Law, and Reform: on the purposes and character of the Peace of God (989–1038)’, in Peace of God, 259–79, at 270. See Paxton’s critique, ‘History, Historians’, in Peace of God, 38–40. 17 In this I tend to agree with R. Barton, E. Magnou-Nortier, D. Barthélemy and H.-W. Goetz rather than G. Duby, F. de Gournay, C. Lauranson-Rosaz, J.P. Poly, E. Bournazel, R.I. Moore, A. Debord, R. Landes and other supporters of the ‘mutation of the year 1000’ thesis. R. Barton, Lordship in the County of Maine c.890–1160 (Woodbridge, 2004), 33–147, 220–4; E. MagnouNortier, ‘Les évêques et la paix dans l’espace Franc (VIe –XIe siècles)’, in L’évêque dans l’histoire de l’église (Angers, 1984), 33–50 and E. Magnou-Nortier, La société laïque et l’église dans la province ecclésiastique de Narbonne de la fin du VIIIe à la fin du XIe siècle (Toulouse, 1974), 161–96, 232–58, 292–314; Barthélemy, The Serf, the Knight, 1–11, 176–313; Goetz, ‘Church, Law and Reform’, in Peace of God, 259–79; G. Duby, The Three Orders: feudal society imagined, trans. A. Goldhammer (Chicago, 1980), 125–66; Duby, ‘Les laïcs et la paix de Dieu’, in I laici nella ‘societas christiana’ dei secolo XI e XII, Miscellanea del Centro di Studi Medioevale, 5 (Milan, 1968), 448–61; Duby, La société aux XIe et XIIe siècle dans la région Mâçonnaise (Paris, 1959), 89–108, 137–71; F. de Gournay, Le rouergue au tournant de l’an mil: de l’ordre carolingien à l’ordre féodal (IXe –XIIe

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to peasant, not as manipulated by bishops, abbots, or princes, but as fully involved agents who supported the peace councils as one important means of defending their property and achieving justice in society. Another interpretative danger is seeing the peace movement through the lens of the papal reforms of the later eleventh century, for some historians read Gregorian reform ideals back into the early peace councils. Sometimes bishops called the early councils and sometimes counts, but in a Carolingian model of cooperation rather than in an attempt to dominate the other ‘orders’. There were not yet hard and fast lines between those who work and those who fight and those who pray. The councils took note of both peasants and clergy who carried arms and were thus not protected. Much of the praying was done by laity before relics. Surely, the peasants did the work and the organizers were very concerned about food supplies, but the early peace did not protect those workers on allodial domains of the great lords, for those lords were expected to protect their own peasants as part of their governing responsibilities.18 The canons of the early peace councils sometimes railed against simony, but this still seemed to mean the selling of sacraments by clergy and church offices by those laity who held them in their gift. Procuring a bishopric for one’s nephew, if he was potentially qualified, was not yet under fire. Clergy were not to hide women in their homes for sexual pleasure, but clerical marriage was common and did not seem then to be under attack. Married clergy were only expected to refrain from sexual relationships with their wives before celebrating Mass. Priests who remained single and lived like monks were much admired.19 Lay people who lived an evangelical life in imitation of Christ and the apostles might be suspected of heresy, but the lines between clergy, monks, and pious lay leaders seemed still to be siècle) (Toulouse, 2004), 135–65, 169–87; C. Lauranson-Rosaz, ‘Peace from the Mountains: the Auvergnat origins of the Peace of God’, in Peace of God, 104–34 and ‘Les mauvaises coutumes d’Auvergne (fin Xe–XIe siècle)’, Annales du Midi, 102 (1990), 557–86; J.-P. Poly and E. Bournazel, The Feudal Transformation, 900–1200, trans. C. Higgitt (New York, 1991), 9–118, 141–85; R.I. Moore, ‘Postscript: the Peace of God and the social revolution’, in Peace of God, 308–26 and idem, The First European Revolution, c.970–1215 (Oxford, 2000), 7–111, 184–98; A. Débord, ‘The Castellan Revolution and the Peace of God in Aquitaine’, in Peace of God, 135–64; Débord, La société laïque dans les pays de La Charente Xe –XIIe s. (Paris, 1984), 61–184; R. Landes, Relics, Apocalypse, and the Deceits of History: Ademar of Chabannes, 989–1034 (Cambridge MA, 1995), 3–74. 18 See nn. 76–81 below for the relationship of the peace movement to the Gregorian reforms; reservations in some canons, such as at Charroux (described below) allowed exceptions favouring lords acting on their own domains. See R.I. Moore, ‘Postscript’, 315. 19 A. Remensnyder, ‘Purity, Pollution and Peace: an aspect of social reform between the late tenth century and 1076’, in Peace of God, 280–307.

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blurred.20 Therefore, I do not see the tenth and early eleventh centuries as inspired by the ideals of the Gregorian reform movement, but rather the earlier Cluniac monastic reforms emanating from the same religious houses that supported the Peace of God.21 However, I do not underestimate the impact of the cult of the saints on laity and clergy, high and low. The saints, in fact, often appear as characters in their own right in the promotion of peace and defence of their territories. The bishops and monks stood firmly behind them, as did the people. Pilgrimages to Rome, Compostela, and Jerusalem, the invention and translation of relics, and the liturgies and processions in honour of the saints or the castigation of sinners, mark the period of the Peace of God as one of religious fervour.22 It is important not to exaggerate apocalyptic fears of the people triggered by the year 1000, or even 1033, the millennium of the date on which Jesus was thought to have been crucified by the Romans.23 Fears of an imminent end of the world surely existed, but it was the terrors of earthly violence, disease, famine, and natural disasters that were noted by the medieval historians as triggers of the peace councils.24 The great crowds which assembled have been seen as on the edge of popular social revolution, barely contained by the ‘opiate’ of relics, processions, miracles, and pilgrimage that the monks supplied. There is little doubt the people could and did pressure the clergy and lay leaders. However, a Marxist lens that reads the French Revolution back into this early medieval movement is hardly helpful for seeing the peace movement ‘on its own terms’.25 20 R. Landes, ‘Between Aristocracy and Heresy: popular participation in the Limousin Peace of God, 994–1033’, in Peace of God, 184–218. 21 See the excellent introduction by J.S. Ott and A. Trumbore Jones, The Bishop Reformed: studies of episcopal power and culture in the central Middle Ages (Aldershot, 2007), 1–20; D. Barthélemy, ‘La paix de Dieu au temps du millénaire’, in idem La mutation de l’an mil a-t-elle eu lieu? Servage et chevalerie dans la France des Xe –XIe siècles (Paris, 1997), 297–367, at 300; Dunbabin, France in the Making, 117–23. 22 Of many recent studies showing the importance of monastic gifts in connecting the people with the saints, see T. Head, Hagiography and the Cult of the Saints (Cambridge, 1990), 135–295; B. Rosenwein, To Be a Neighbor to St. Peter: the social meaning of Cluny’s property, 909–1049 (Ithaca NY, 1989), 35–77, 202–7; D. Callahan, ‘The Peace of God and the Cult of the Saints in Aquitaine in the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries’, in Peace of God, 165–83. 23 Landes, ‘Between Aristocracy and Heresy’, 184–218; B. Rosenwein and T. Head, ‘Monks and their Enemies: a comparative approach (Cluny and Fleury)’, Speculum, 66 (1991), 764–86. 24 Such as disease in 994 occasioning the Council of Limoges, see below. 25 B. Topher, ‘The Cult of Relics and Pilgrimage in Burgundy and Aquitaine at the Time of the Monastic Reform’, in Peace of God, 41–57.

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Laprade, 980 The peace movement began in the Auvergne with a series of meetings called by diocesan bishops, but attended by the leading nobility and local monks.26 A placitum was called by Guy, count of Anjou and bishop of Le Puy, on the field of Saint-Germain-Laprade near Le Puy in 978 or 980. The Cartulary of Saint Chaffre provides our earliest text: Guy ordered that all knights and rustics from his diocese should gather together, so that they might give him their advice on the correct way to assure the peace. Asking his nephews to gather their troops nearby in the vicus of Brioude, he called on all those from his bishopric who were present in the field of Saint-Germain near Le Puy to swear to a peace – to not oppress the goods of the church, to return those that had been taken, as is appropriate for Christian faithful. But since those present resisted, he ordered his army to come during the night from Brioude, wishing to force them to submit, and they were therefore compelled to swear peace and leave pledges, and in this way these people gave back the lands and the castle of Saint-Mari and the goods of the church that they had taken. This was done with the help of God.27

The bishop in question, Guy of Anjou, had been abbot of the reform monastery of Cormery before becoming bishop. After Laprade, Guy went on to enforce a regular common life on the canons of the cathedral of Le Puy. They were to live in celibacy and hold no private property. Regular canons had been an important adjunct of Cluniac monastic reform since Odo of Cluny. However, prohibiting canons to marry also served to remove dynastic rivals who might compete with Guy’s family for power.28 Appointed as both bishop and count by King Lothair in 975, Guy was undoubtedly active in the operation, assisted by his sister, Adalaide, the widow of Count Stephen of Brioude, and her sons, who came to his rescue.29

26 Lauranson-Rosaz, ‘Auvernat Origins,’ in Peace of God, 104–34; Dunbabin, France in the Making, 150–4. 27 Lauranson-Rosaz, ‘Auvergnat Origins’, in Peace of God, 116–21, quotation at 116–17; Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Chaffre du Monastier, suivi de la Chronique de Saint-Pierre du Puy, ed. U. Chevalier (Paris, 1884) viii, 152 no. 413. 28 Moore, ‘Postscript’, 317. 29 B. Bachrach, ‘The Northern Origins of the Peace Movement at Le Puy in 975’, Historical Reflections/Réflexions historiques, 14 (1987), 406–21, esp. 410–12.

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It may be shocking to us that a bishop and former reforming abbot would force armed peasants and noble knights to swear an oath, pledge hostages, and return contested property by threatening them with military force.30 Lesser lords seem to have seized the castle of Mari from the cathedral. Was Guy’s coercion of his people simply a show of force to recover lands of the church? In the tenth century, it was not unknown for even abbots, much less bishops, to retain private armies.31 Marcus Bull perceptively names the violence perpetrated by the nobles, ecclesiastical and lay, as ‘slow-motion abuse’ legally practised on those in the lord’s power and this example of coercion of the soldiers in his diocese by Bishop Guy seems of that order.32 Guy’s nephews, in serving the authority of count and bishop, were threatening violence legally, in the presumed cause of justice and peace, but violence nonetheless. Lauranson-Rosaz, with some justif ication, accuses Bishop Guy of Anjou of selling out to feudal interests.33 Bernard Bachrach points out that it was Bishop Guy’s office as count which best explains his behaviour. Guy called the meeting in his role as count; it was officially a placitum rather than a synod. To be a proper peace council, several bishops needed be present. As count, Guy levied his military force in the king’s name, but creatively bound his armed men by a private oath since they probably had little loyalty to the distant Carolingian king. As count, he was legally empowered to demand that his nephews call out their forces in Forez and Gavaudan to back him up. To restore peace and order for the Carolingian monarchy was his primary mission as count. Bachrach thinks that the finances of count and bishop had been merged by this time which would explain why the cathedral had a castle. As count, Guy’s actions seem more reasonable to us today, but he probably made little distinction between his two roles.34 Michel Parisse studied the careers of nearly one thousand bishops in 170 dioceses finding that the bishop of the tenth century was still very Carolingian, usually appointed, and beholden to the lay lord of his region. He 30 J. Martindale, ‘Peace and War in early eleventh-century Aquitaine’, in Status, Authority and Regional Power: Aquitaine and France, 9th to 12th centuries, ed. eadem (Aldershot, 1997), 147–76, and 169–70 for examples of warring clergy. 31 C. Taylor, ‘Reform and the Basque Dukes of Gascony: a context for the origins of the Peace of God and the murder of Abbo of Fleury’, Early Medieval Europe, 15 (2007), 35–52, esp. 42–5. 32 M. Bull, Knightly Piety and the Lay Response to the First Crusade: the Limousin and Gascony, c.970–c.1030 (Oxford, 1993), 43–50, quotation at 48. 33 Lauranson-Rosaz, ‘Peace from the Mountains’, 116–34, at 34. 34 Bachrach, ‘Northern Origins’, 406–21, esp. 411–21.

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often came from the local nobility and had been groomed for his position by serving as a canon of a local basilica where he received a classical education. He was torn between his family interests and those of his church as he tried to consolidate his position, but he took his duties seriously as pastor, preacher, and sacramental minister in his diocese. Carolingian bishops also had long been charged by the kings with responsibilities for providing charity, settling disputes, and keeping the peace. Bishops of the reform party were expected to be monastic in their spirituality, but also capable secular leaders. Some bishops gained authority and independence developing creative solutions to the conflicts around them. A prime example was their leadership of the Peace of God movement.35 Michel Parisse concludes: ‘As a prince, a prelate needed a constant body guard of professional soldiers’.36 Karl Werner adds that a bishop studied the classical texts on warfare, received training in the field under an experienced commander, and led his own army that he put at the disposition of the king.37 A recent study, The Bishop Reformed, concludes that most progressive bishops were adept at balancing family, ecclesiastical, and political responsibilities. They were not dominated by the leading dukes and counts, but rather cooperated with lay lords. They also began to organize neighbouring bishops to work together towards peace and other common goals. They may have learned their trade from their uncles, for they often grew up in their shadow and succeeded them as bishop. Moreover, ‘authors of the central Middle Ages often included the bishop’s military capabilities – when used for proper ends – among his worthy qualities’.38 The bishops who convened the first councils were either counts in their own right or closely allied with counts who were often close relatives. The bishops of Limoges and Poitiers began to cooperate more with the counts of Poitiers after 970. They were appointed by the count from among his relatives and allies and appeared frequently in the charters of the count for local religious houses.39 35 M. Parisse, ‘Princes laïques et/ou moines: les évêques du Xe siècle’, Il secolo di ferro, 449–513, at 497–508. 36 Parisse, ‘Princes laïques et/ou moines’, 497–508. 37 K.F. Werner (citing F. Prinz), ‘Observations sur le rôle des évêques dans le mouvement de paix au Xe et XIe siècles’, Mediaevalia Christiana, XIe–XIIIe siècles: hommage à Raymonde Foreville, ed. C. Viola (Tournai, 1989), 155–95, esp. 172–5. 38 Ott and Trumbore Jones, The Bishop Reformed, 1–20, quotation at 3; A. Trumbore Jones, ‘Lay Magnates, Religious Houses, and the Role of the Bishop in Aquitaine, (877–1050)’, in ibid., 21–39; T. Head, ‘Postscript: the ambiguous bishop’, in ibid., 250–64; A. Trumbore Jones, Noble Lord, Good Shepherd: episcopal power and piety in the Aquitaine, 877–1050 (Boston, 2009), 86–103. 39 Trumbore Jones, ‘Lay Magnates’, 24–33; Magnou-Nortier, ‘Les évêques et la paix’, 45–8.

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What can we conclude about this first peace meeting at Laprade in 980? Since it was called by a bishop, who was also a count, the highest secular and ecclesiastical authority was in charge. The people were invited to attend, at least nobles and those peasant men who carried arms and were still liable for military service. The policy of coercing resistors with armed force would not be common in later councils until the infamous peace army of the archbishop of Bourges in 1038. 40 The goal of Laprade was to end oppression (perhaps taxes and requisitions) in lands belonging to the church and the return of these lands and a castle to the cathedral. Laprade was the first gathering in which those present swore an oath, and hostages were taken to ensure that promises were carried out. What was not done here is significant as well. There was no mention of monks or relics being present, miracles occurring, or enthusiastic crowds crying out for peace. The bishop/count was unlikely to have acted alone, but his clerical associates were not named. No specific provisions were made for the protection of the poor as in later councils.

Charroux, 989 The Council of Charroux, convened near Poitiers, is often considered the beginning of the peace movement. 41 Canons of the Council (discovered in the seventeenth century) and a description by a contemporary, Letaldus of Micy, have survived. 42 Charroux was a reformed monastery with a relic of the True Cross located close to the capital of Count William Iron Arm, who was surprisingly not in attendance. The bishops of Poitiers and Limoges were there as hosts and the four other bishops were from the southern archdiocese of Bordeaux (rather than the local archdiocese of Bourges). Presiding over the council was Archbishop Gombaud of Bordeaux, who is noted with his brother as sometime duke of Gascony. 43 It had been a long time since a council has been held, the bishops wrote, and ‘these bishops, as well as clerks and monks, not to mention laypeople 40 T. Head, ‘The Judgment of God: Andrew of Fleury’s account of the peace league of Bourges’, in Peace of God, 219–38. 41 T. Gergen, Pratique juridique de la paix et trêve de Dieu à partir du concile de Charroux (989–1250) (Frankfurt-am-Main, 2004), 11–125, at 15–16. 42 ‘The Acts of the Council of Charroux’, trans. T. Head, in Peace of God, 327–8 no. 1, from Mansi, xix, 89–90; Letaldus of Micy, Delatio corporis s. Juniani ad synodem Karoffensem (989) in PL, cxxxvii, 823–6, trans. T. Head, in Peace of God, 328–9 no. 2. 43 R. Favreau, ‘Le Concile de Charroux de 989’, Bulletin de la société des antiquaires de l’Ouest, 3 (1989), 213–20, at 216–17.

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of both sexes, have beseeched the aid of divine justice,’ to quell ‘criminal activity’ and replace it with legal action. The Canons follow: 1. If anyone attacks the holy church, or takes anything from it by force, and compensation is not provided, let him be anathema. 2. If anyone takes as booty [animals] from peasants [agricolae] or from other poor people [pauperes] – unless it is due to the fault of the victim – and if that person neglects to make reparation for everything, let him be anathema. 3. If anyone robs or seizes, or strikes a priest or a deacon or any man of the clergy [ex clero] who is not bearing arms …, but is simply going about his business or remaining at home, and if, after examination by his own bishop, that person is thus found to be guilty of any crime, then he is guilty of sacrilege, and if he further does not come forward to make satisfaction let him be held to be excluded from the holy church of God.44

These canons included important reservations. Someone who has taken church property or revenues can avoid sanctions by repayment. A peasant who complained his animals were stolen would be questioned as to whether he protected them adequately. Someone who has a fight with a cleric can make amends. The courts that judge these matters seemed to be episcopal rather than those of the count. 45 The sanction of anathema was very serious; it could mean not only excommunication, but the shunning of a family or a whole Christian community. Being placed under anathema was especially to be feared for its implication that, upon death, one might not be buried in consecrated ground or have a funeral Mass in the church. 46 More significantly, it was believed that those who died before reconciliation to the Church would incur eternal damnation. It seems to have been a very potent threat because the canons of Charroux were adopted in several subsequent councils. 47 Letaldus of Micy described some miraculous healings when the monks of Nouaillé brought the relics of St Junien to the Council of Charroux. Letaldus wrote that the Council was needed because of the actions of evil people, ‘who 44 ‘Acts of Charroux’, trans. Head, in Peace of God, 327–8 no. 1, from Mansi, xix, 89–90; Martindale, ‘Peace and War’, 166. 45 E. Magnou-Nortier, ‘The Enemies of the Peace: Reflections on a Vocabulary, 500–1100’, in Peace of God, 58–80, at 70–9. 46 L.K. Little, Benedictine Maledictions: liturgical cursing in Romanesque France (Ithaca NY, 1993), 30–51. 47 Favreau, ‘Le Concile de Charroux’, 218–19.

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have wasted the vineyard of the Lord … Therefore it pleased the bishops, abbots and other religious men that a council be held at which the taking of booty [praeda] would be prohibited and the property of the saints, which had been unjustly stolen, would be restored’. Letaldus also spoke of the threat of anathema on the evil doers and elaborated that ‘a great crowd of many people [populus] gathered there from Poitou, the Limousin and neighboring regions, [and that] many bodies of saints were also brought there … adorned by frequent miracles’. 48 The two peace assemblies discussed so far were called by bishops who held civil authority, but the Council of Charroux, attended by six bishops, has a more ecclesiastical tone. Charroux dealt with civil as well as ecclesiastical crimes, since the peasants who were losing their animals were probably not all on church properties. However, this council threatened episcopal courts and socio-spiritual penalties, not military reprisals. There were no attested nobles at Charroux except as they may have been included in ‘the great crowd of many people’. Why was Count William Iron Arm missing from such a significant event, especially as he was with the same bishops immediately after the council to dedicate the monastery church of Maillezais?49 Several plausible explanations have been given by recent scholars. One suggests his absence had something to do with his personal life, perhaps his marital problems.50 Claire Taylor posits that the presider, Archbishop Gombaud of Bordeaux, may have opposed Cluniac-style monastic reform which limited the jurisdiction of both bishop and lay founder. She accuses Gombaud’s family of ‘both protecting and plundering the monastic property it had “donated”, apparently still considering it its own to dispose of’.51 She questions the means by which the duke/archbishop from Gascony could summon a council just a few miles from the capital of the count of Poitiers without his cooperation and concludes that the Gascon duke/archbishop of Bordeaux was extending his power and essentially forced his way into the territory of his neighbouring duke of Aquitaine, William Iron Arm, to hold 48 Letaldus of Micy, in Peace of God, 328–9 no. 2, from PL, cxxxvii, 823–26 at 824–5; Little, Maledictions, 30–51, 131–2. 49 Trumbore Jones, ‘Lay Magnates’, 24, 26, 29, 33–5, 38. 50 This suggestion is implied by Favreau, ‘Le Concile de Charroux’, 214–15; for background on William and Emma, see M. Skinner, ‘Aristocratic Families: founders and reformers of monasteries in the Touraine, 930–1030’, in Benedictus: Studies in Honor of St Benedict of Nursia, ed. E.R. Elder (Kalamazoo MI, 1981), 81–98, esp. 87 and 96 n. 53; D. Barthélemy, L’an mil et la paix de Dieu (Paris, 1999), 292–4. 51 Taylor, ‘Reform and the Basque Dukes of Gascony’, 41. See also R. Bonnaud-Delamare, ‘Les institutions de Paix en Aquitaine au XIe siècle’, in La Paix, Recueils de la Société Jean Bodin (Brussels, 1962), 1, 415–87, esp. 419–26.

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the Council of Charroux. The dukes of Aquitaine later conquered Gascony, but in the tenth century, the balance of power may have been reversed. Taylor concludes with some sarcasm: ‘Gombaud wanted “to protect” the church of Aquitaine as its spiritual guardian just as he and his family “protected” their church in Gascony’.52 Count William Iron Arm may have boycotted the Council of Charroux in resentment of Archbishop Gombaud’s ‘invasion’ of his territory or at the least finding himself in a weak position towards the end of his life, he left the bishops to take responsibility for the peace.53 Marcus Bull agrees that William Iron Arm’s presence at the Council of Charroux was ‘problematic’, and that he soon retired in favour of his son, William V.54 William Iron Arm retired to a monastery.55 However, Thomas Head disagrees with Claire Taylor on the political strength of the counts of Poitiers/dukes of Aquitaine and thus comes to a different conclusion about William’s absence from the council.56 Head argues that the turmoil addressed at the Council of Charroux was caused by wars between William’s ally, the viscount of Limoges, Gerald, and his enemy, Boso I, count of la Marche. Victorious, Gerald and his son, Guy, appointed their relatives as bishops of Limoges and cooperated in the reform of local monasteries. William supported monastic reform during his marriage to Emma of Blois, who through her relative, Gauzbert, abbot of Saint-Julien of Tours, was instrumental in the Cluniac-style reform of St Julien, Maillezais, and Bourgueil.57 The Council of Charroux celebrated renewed peace. The monastery of Saint-Martial was supported by both Gerald and his enemy, Boso, as part of a peace agreement between them. The Council of Charroux met at a monastery, now reformed, where Boso had formerly acted as advocate or lay protector. The count of Poitiers’ allies and also his erstwhile enemies, such as Archbishop Gombaud of Bordeaux, were present in their mutual effort to maintain peace in the future.58 Although Count William Iron Arm 52 Taylor, ‘Reform and the Basque Dukes of Gascony’, 45–50, quotation at 50. 53 This last position is that of Jacques Paul, ‘Les conciles de paix’, 177–209, esp. 185–7, 192, 206. 54 Bull, Knightly Piety, 34–5. 55 T. Head, ‘The Development of the Peace of God in Aquitaine (970–1005)’, Speculum, 74 (1999), 656–86, at 673–4. 56 Head, ‘Development’, 656–86. Head notes, 659, that William Iron Arm and William V did claim ‘the irregular title of duke of Aquitaine in addition to their traditional title of count of Poitou’. 57 Ibid., 662–73; G. Oury, ‘La reconstruction monastique dans l’Ouest: l’Abbé Gauzbert de Saint-Julien de Tours (v. 990–1007)’, Révue Mabillon, 4 (1964), 69–124; Skinner, ‘Aristocratic Families’, 81–98. 58 Head, ‘Development’, 662–70.

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was absent, he played an important role behind the scenes. According to the Chronicle of Peter of Maillezais (writing a century later to be sure), Archbishop Gombaud and the other bishops adjourned to the court of Count William Iron Arm at Poitiers directly after the council for his endorsement and stayed for the dedication of the monastery of Maillezais. ‘This second meeting at Poitier was an integral part of the process initiated at Charroux’.59 However, the sanctions of Charroux remained episcopal as the bishops brought out the heavy weapons of excommunication and anathema not only against those who injured church property, but the meagre livelihood of peasants and the poor. Ecclesiastical sanctions, the count’s presumed support and the popular enthusiasm of the crowds made Charroux not only the first but one of the most successful of the early peace councils. The dukes of Aquitaine soon realized the potential of the peace movement for increasing their power. They would sponsor a number of councils in the next few years.

Limoges, 994 William V, along with his most prominent followers, participated fully in the Council of Limoges in 994 and molded it with the cooperation of the bishops into an institution of civil justice with courts, judges, and even perhaps lawyers (legis docti) to carry out the mandate of the duke for the maintenance of peace.60 According to the chronicle of Adémar of Chabannes, the leadership of Count William V was critical: In those days the pestilence of fire burned over the Limousin, for the bodies of men and women without number were devoured by an invisible fire and everywhere their wailing filled the earth. Therefore, Gosfridus, abbot of St. Martial … and Alduin the bishop [of Limoges] held council with William the duke [of Aquitaine] and declared a three day fast. Then all the bishops in Aquitaine came together in Limoges, and bodies and relics of the saint were solemnly brought there, and the body of Martial, 59 Ibid., 666–70, at 670; Peter of Maillezais, De antiquitate et commutatione in melius Malleacensis insulae et tranlatione corporis s. Rigomeri, i.2: PL, cxlvi, 1254. The dating of this meeting is debated, but Head follows a most reliable historian of the Touraine, Dom Guy Oury, ‘La reconstruction’, 80–1. 60 Bull, Knightly Piety, 34–5 (see n. 66 below on legis docti); Landes, Relics, Apocalypse, 28–37; Barthélemy, L’an mil et la paix de Dieu, 294–8.

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patron of Gaul, was raised up. Whence an enormous joy filled everyone and all sickness everywhere ceased; and a pact of peace and justice was then concluded by the duke and his lords.61

Daniel Callahan has warned that Adémar may not be trusted on anything to do with St Martial, whose legend he unscrupulously promoted in the 1020s.62 However, other sources corroborate this account. The acts of this council have not survived, but are thought to be similar to Charroux (989). A later ‘foundation charter’ of the monastery of Charroux, Andrew of Fleury’s Miracles of St. Benedict, and the Translation and Miracles of St Vivian of Figeac all attest to the presence of great crowds and processions of relics at a Council of Limoges.63 This council indeed has a different character than those before it. The count is clearly in charge, consulting the bishops and abbots on how to end the strange illness, sometimes called St Anthony’s fire, or ergotism, caused by a fungus on the rye baked in bread. It can cause great pain as well as hallucinations and thus had greatly disturbed the peace. The duke attended the council and besides dealing with the disease by fasts and relic processions, concluded a pact of peace and justice with the assent of his noble lords. According to Landes, ‘this description depicts perhaps the most famous example of a “sanctified” Peace council, that is one in which large crowds, miracles, and great spiritual enthusiasm played a major role’.64 We know more details about this council of 994 thanks to the Translation of St Martial and sermons of Adémar. William attended the Council ‘with the subject counts, townsmen, and “great men [optimates]” under his governance’ (from Toulouse and perhaps Bordeaux). Adémar also wrote of the ‘unanimous wish of all the princes of the kingdom of Aquitaine’ to obey the episcopal injunctions.65 A system of courts and judges was established. 61 Adémar de Chabannes, ‘On the First Council of Limoges (994)’, Chronicon, iii.35, trans. R. Landes in Peace of God, 329–30 no. 3; Adémar de Chabannes, Chronique, 245–6; Ademari Cabanensis, Chronicon, ed. P. Bourgain et al., CCCM, 129 (Turnhout, 1999), 156–8, at 157 (iii.35). 62 D. Callahan, ‘Adémar de Chabannes, Apocalyptism and the Peace Council of Limoges in 1031’, Révue Bénédictine, 111 (1991), 32–49, esp. 33–7, 42–3; idem, ‘Cult of the Saints’, in Peace of God, 166–7; Landes, Relics, Apocalypse, 3–23; idem, ‘Adémar de Chabannes et la Paix de Dieu’, Annales du Midi, 89 (1977), 21–43, suggests that Adémar is basically trustworthy on the early councils. 63 Landes, ‘Between Aristocracy and Heresy’, 186–90, at 186; Martindale, ‘Peace and War’, 154–5. 64 Landes, ‘Between Aristocracy and Heresy’, 186–187, quotation at 186. 65 Bull, Knightly Piety, 34–5, quoting Adémar de Chabannes, Translatio beati Martialis de Monte Gaudio, ed. E. Sackur, Die Cluniacenser in ihre kirklischen und allegemein geschichtlichen Werksamkeit, 2 vols (Halle, 1892–4), i, 393 and Sermones tres, PL, cxli, 117. Dunbabin, France in

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According to Bull, it was at the Council of Limoges that William V made his mark ‘upon the duchy of Aquitaine with the help of his natural allies among the senior clergy’.66 Daniel Callahan confirms that William ‘was the first civil ruler to incorporate [a peace council] into his policies, and who worked creatively with the Church for their mutual advantage’. The considerable wealth of the church in Aquitaine, Callahan observes, was attracting ‘land-hungry’ nobles.67 Thomas Head accuses William Iron Arm of abandoning his monastic reform programme when he retired to a monastery in favour of his son, by imposing Robert of Blois as abbot of Micy rather than allowing the monks to elect their own superior. In 996, Fulk Nerra of Anjou invaded Tours (held by William’s father-in-law, Odo II of Blois). The count of Poitiers threw all his resources into opposing Fulk, abandoning not only monastic reforms but the oaths of peace sworn at Limoges. The lords of la Marche, in alliance with Fulk Nerra of Anjou, renewed their attacks directly on Poitiers. Adelbert of la Marche and Fulk of Anjou captured Tours as Odo II lay dying in the nearby monastery of Marmoutiers.68 The situation was saved by the new Capetian king Robert. Hugh Capet was also dying and his son Robert married Bertha, the widow of Odo of Blois, bringing him into alliance with William of Aquitaine. By this new constellation of power, Fulk was ousted from Tours in 997. Fulk Nerra did penance for his violation of the basilica of St Martin by a pilgrimage to the Holy Land as did Guy, count of Limoges and his brother Bishop Hilduin, for attacking an unarmed bishop. Boso II, brother of Adelbert of la Marche, also made a pilgrimage to Rome and then appeared in charters with William V after they made peace and renewed their alliance. Young William V married Adalmodis, the widow of Aldebert of la Marche and a cousin of Fulk Nerra of Anjou thus cementing a temporary peace with his former enemies.69 William V revived the Cluniac monastic reform programme abandoned the Making, 150–4 at 153, suggests that the secular courts linked the council to the king’s peace and lessen competition from bishops and episcopal courts. 66 Bull, Knightly Piety, 35. Adémar de Chabannes, Sermones tres, PL, cxli, 117, refers to legis docti. 67 Callahan, ‘Cult of the Saints’, 168. 68 Head, ‘Development’, 673–8; B. Bachrach, ‘Robert of Blois, Abbot of Saint-Florent de Saumur and Saint Mesmin de Micy (985–1011): a study in small power politics’, Révue Bénédictine, 88 (1978), 123–46; Dunbabin, France in the Making, 184–6, 190–2. 69 Richer, Histoire de France, ii, 268–300 (iv.75–94); B. Bachrach, ‘A Study in Feudal Politics: relations between Fulk Nerra and William the Great, 995–1030’, Viator, 7 (1976), 111–21. The actions and advantages of ‘ducal’ bishops in war alliances and looting of churches are discussed by Barthélemy, L’an mil et la paix, 301–6.

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by his father after the Council of Limoges. In order to cement the peace, he personally called another peace council at Poitiers sometime around 1000.70

Poitiers, circa 1000–1014 This council has been dated as late as 1014, but an earlier date seems preferable.71 The acts of the council have been rather freely translated by Phillippe Buc so I substitute my own translation. Splendid surely is the name of peace, and glorious the expectation of unity, which Christ ascending to heaven bequeathed his disciples. Therefore, in the Ides of January, William duke of Poitiers having summoned a council, [and] five bishops convened in Poitiers … and twelve abbots to restore the church. The duke and other princes by hostages and excommunication confirmed this restoration of peace and of justice [iustitia].72

This council was called by the duke in his capital and not by the bishops at a monastery. However, the key bishops (named in the document) as well as influential reforming abbots were present and active. The purpose of the council was to restore unity, peace, and justice after wide-ranging violence in the wars with Anjou. The justice enforced was to be that of the count (since hostages were provided) as well as the bishops.73 The first canon of the council confirmed the control of the count’s courts: 1. That all shall stand in judgement before the prince or a judge about things in dispute. They decreed that if in the previous five years and any time after this council, things were seized causing altercation in the region of these 70 Head, ‘Development’, 677–80; Dunbabin, France in the Making, 173–6; Barthélemy, L’an mil et la paix, 298–301. 71 Head, ‘Development’, 680 n. 114. Head argues the earlier date (1000) from the presence and absence of certain bishops and the mention of five years since the last council (of Limoges). 72 Mansi, xix, 265–8, at 267, see also P. Buc, in Peace of God, 330–1, no. 4. Comparing Buc’s translation with the Latin in Mansi indicates errors in translation. The bishops and abbots wished to restore the church (ecclesiae) and not explicitly the peace, but the next line speaks of restoration of peace as a goal. The council met in the Ides of March after January 13. I would like to thank the series editor for pointing out these errors to me. 73 Head, ‘Development’, 680–1.

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princes, where one of the contenders challenged the other, they would come before the prince of the same region or another judge of the district and stand in judgement [iustitia] regarding these possessions. And if one should refuse a severe judgement, the prince or judge should either enforce judgment [iustitia] over the things or that person should forfeit his hostages. And if justice [iustitia] cannot be enforced [the prince or judge] should convoke the princes and bishops who instituted this council and all together proceed with destruction and harassment until having suffered persecution and disorder, [the guilty one] returns to right judgement [iustitia]. Therefore, hostages were given and excommunication affirmed by the council, so that from that day on no one would weaken the church, and so on, as decreed in [the canons of] the council of Charroux.74

New elements at this council were the jurisdiction of the comital courts presided over by secular judges, the guarantees by hostages, and the permission of harassment as a last resort.75 Pressure amounting to systematic harassment was allowed by the signers on anyone breaking their oath. The council then initiated reforms of the clergy, several of whom had been offenders in the recent wars; the restrictions concerned not military action but simony and sexual morality.76 These canons have been cited to link the peace councils with the Gregorian reform movement.77 The second canon forbade simony or the taking of gifts for celebrating the sacraments: ‘A bishop shall not require gifts for penance or confirmation. That no bishop may accept or require gifts for penance or for any gift of the Holy Spirit unless it is freely given’.78 The last phrase protected the many generous donations then currently coming to the church. The third canon can be interpreted as prohibiting clerical marriage but I think, given the wording at this early date, that it only prohibits casual sexual relations by the clergy. It reads in part: If a priest or deacon has a woman in the house, they will lose their rank. No priest or deacon may hold a woman in his house, or in the cellar, or introduce her into a secret place for fornication. For if he tries to do this,

74 My translation of Mansi, xix, 267–8. Compare Buc’s translation in Peace of God, 330–1 no. 4. 75 Egied Strubbe, ‘La paix de Dieu dans le nord de la France’, La Paix, 1, 489–501, at 490–2; Dunbabin, France in the Making, 153–8; Landes, Relics, Apocalypse, 24–49. 76 Head, ‘Development’, 681. 77 Remensnyder, ‘Purity, Pollution and Peace’, 280–307. 78 My translation of Mansi, xix, 268; also translated by Buc in Peace of God, 331 no. 4.

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he should know that he shall lose every dignity and not celebrate the sacred Mystery [the Mass] with other men.79

Amy Remensnyder makes the excellent point that disrupting the moral order of the church was also seen as a breach of the peace and (later in 1068) would be punishable by excommunication, ‘mak[ing] absolutely explicit what was implied at Poitiers’.80 However, she admits, married and warring clergy were still very much entrenched in the tenth and early eleventh centuries.81 Thus, I think this canon applies to only blatant sexual immorality among the clergy and not clerical marriage. Nevertheless, given the influence of lay leaders at the Council of Poitiers, it may be surprising that the reform of the clergy should be broached at all. However, many lay lords, influenced by the Cluniac reform movement, took a serious interest in clerical morality.

Conclusions The peace councils would demand that quarrels be settled by law and not by violence. They restrained the judgement of any one bishop with the voices of his peers. They were sometimes, but not always attended by the count or duke. However, it was no longer necessary to station an army outside the camp to coerce the oaths of peace. By 1000, in addition to the presence of the duke or count and his entourage of nobles, monks with holy relics, and episcopal excommunications, even more sanctions were levied. Quarrels were to be settled in the count’s courts rather than those of the bishop and reinforced by the exchange of hostages. The laity, aristocrats and peasants alike, initiated aspects of the peace movement. The peasants, most still free and not servile, retained their rights to carry arms and take oaths. By their very numbers, they could pressure violators of the peace or at times the organizers.82 These early peace councils served to strengthen the authority of dukes and counts. The popular peace councils had themselves increased respect for those who led them. Claire Taylor characterizes the peace movement ‘as 79 My translation of Mansi, xix, 268; compare Buc’s in Peace of God, 331 no. 4. The use of gradum without the qualif ier of clerical is ambiguous. The implication is strong that he will at least lose his clerical status and be barred from presiding at Mass, but he could also be completely excommunicated. 80 Remensnyder, ‘Purity, Pollution and Peace’, 291–2, at 292, 306. 81 Remensnyder, ‘Purity, Pollution and Peace’, 284; Martindale, ‘Peace and War’, 167–9. 82 Head, ‘The Judgment of God’, 219–38, esp. 221, 224, 227, 237.

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being somewhat hijacked by legitimist secular authority, most successfully that of the Aquitainian duke, William V ‘The Great’ (995/6–1030)’.83 The dukes had successfully inherited the royal Carolingian right and duty to keep the peace. The Peace of God reinforced ‘structures of lay society’, institutions of justice, and ‘ducal authority’ under the administration of William the Great.84 ‘Religious and secular authorities worked together to enforce measures against those who disturbed the peace’.85 It was cooperation between lay and ecclesiastical leaders, and not coercion on either part, that made the early peace councils so effective. The peace councils thus ‘blurred the distinction between secular and sacred power’ and were part of a wider movement of pilgrimage, veneration of relics, and monastic reform.86 They called for nothing short of a renewal of both lay and clerical cultures in a veritable pact with God.87 Some bishops and lay princes who called peace councils were connected with the reform of monasteries. The church added the spiritual sanctions of excommunication and interdict, but only as a last resort if the accused did not do penance and make restitution under pressure from peers, the church, and their lords. The councils were far from being secular affairs. Particular dedication to the relics of the saints in Aquitaine in these years was attested by the invention and translation of the relics of saints, new and old, the creation of ornate and valuable reliquaries to hold their remains and the proliferation of sermons, liturgies, tropes, and chants to honour them. Pilgrims crowded the roads to their shrines, so when the saints attended a peace council, such as that at Limoges in 994, the people took notice. When oaths were taken in the presence of these saints, they were considered particularly solemn and inviolable. The fervent loyalty of the people, noble and poor, to the saints and their relics in Aquitaine gave the Peace of God there its cutting edge.88 Assemblies were not always entirely peaceful; an altercation at Limoges in 1018 led to many being trampled in the church. Adémar of Chabannes attributed it to an accident as the crowd rushed the relics on display there. However, it may well have been a riot triggered by reformers opposed to 83 Taylor, ‘Reform and the dukes of Gascony’, 46. 84 H.E.J. Cowdrey, ‘The Peace and Truce of God in the Eleventh Century’, Past and Present, 46 (1970), 42–67, at 58–9. 85 Trumbore Jones, ‘Lay Magnates’, 34. 86 Head, ‘Development’, 684–6, at 686; D. Callahan, ‘William the Great and the Monasteries of Aquitaine’, Studia monastica, 19 (1977), 321–42, at 329–31. 87 Duby, ‘Les laïcs et la paix de Dieu’, 456–7; Remensnyder, ‘Purity, Pollution and Peace’, 307. 88 Callahan, ‘Cult of the Saints’, 166–83.

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the excesses of the relic displays.89 Raoul Glaber pictures the tenth century as one of growth and building especially of churches.90 The Cluniac reform movement spread a message of restoration and peace.91 Counts and dukes assumed the mantle of royal authority and appointed castellans and viscounts to carry out their mission. Bishops, who came from the same aristocratic families, added their voices and spiritual sanctions to the movement of the Peace of God that accompanied the transition from a fragile loosely organized Carolingian empire towards the principalities that would dominate western Europe for the next two centuries.92 The early Peace of God marked the last stage of Carolingian cooperation between clergy and laity, powerful and poor, in an effort to govern by a combination of spiritual authority and law rather than naked force. About the author: Mary S. Skinner, Wheaton College, Norton, MA (Emerita)

89 Landes, ‘Between Aristocracy and Heresy’, 203. I have not treated the possibility of ‘heresy’ as it appeared later, but see Barthélemy, La mutation de l’an mil, 316–60; Landes, Relics, Apocalypse, 31–41 (who thinks the peace movement failed!) and M. Frassetto, ‘Heretics, Antichrists, and the Year 1000: apocalyptic expectations in the writings of Ademar of Chabannes’, in idem, The Year 1000: religious and social responses to the turning of the first millennium (New York, 2002), 73–84. 90 Rodulphi Glabri, Historiarum, 114–29 (iii.13–19); also Raoul Glaber, ‘Les Histoires, IV’, L’an mil, 89–93. 91 The influence of Cluniac reform on peace is discussed in Gergen, Pratique, 95 and Moore, ‘First Peace Movement’, 28–33. 92 J. Dhondt, Études sur la naissance des principautés territoriales en France (IXe –XIIe siècle) (Bruges, 1948), esp. 168–258.

2.

The Sermons of Pope Honorius III Iben Fonnesberg-Schmidt Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch02 Abstract Scholars have identif ied sixty-eight sermons from Pope Honorius III (1216–27). This article examines their intended audience, date of composition, language, purposes, style, and form. Pope Honorius often used the texts of the Church Fathers and other authorities when composing his sermons, and the article demonstrates his fondness for the works of Pope Gregory I (590–604) and his use of the popular florilegium, the Liber scintillarum (composed c.700). It is argued that Honorius’s sermons offer scholars insights into papal ideology and theology and that comparisons with the extant sermons of Honorius’s predecessor, Innocent III (1198–1216), shed light on some of the divergences of opinion which could be found at the papal curia in the early thirteenth century. Keywords: Sermons, preaching, Pope Honorius III, popes, central Middle Ages, florilegia

In the 1970s and early 1980s, James M. Powell drew the attention of the scholarly community to the sermons of Pope Honorius III (1216–27) with a series of magisterial articles. Honorius’s sermons had not been the subject of much research, probably because they were not very popular in the Middle Ages and only survive in very few manuscripts, and possibly also because Honorius’s pontificate long held little interest for historians who instead focused on the pontificates of his immediate predecessor and successor, Innocent III (1199–1216) and Gregory IX (1227–41). However, Honorius’s sermons are a valuable source for insights into the ideas of Honorius III, as Powell so clearly showed, and thus well worth our attention. After a brief outline of the historiography of these sermons and of the manuscripts in which they have been preserved, this article will discuss their audience, language, purposes, style, form, use of authorities, and finally, their interest for historians.

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Honorius’s Sermons: a brief historiography Scholars have so far identified sixty-eight sermons – for Sundays, feast days, and extraordinary occasions – from Honorius. All but one were published in the late nineteenth century by César-Auguste Horoy in his Opera omnia Honorii III. Horoy’s edition is based solely on Hieronomo Bottiono’s transcription of one manuscript containing Honorius’s sermon collection, namely Rome, Biblioteca Nazionale, Sessoriano MS 51. Bottiono also provided Horoy with an introduction to the sermons in which he briefly outlined their content.1 In 1888, Félix Vernet submitted a short thesis on the theological content of the sermons to the faculty of theology at the university at Lyon, but neither his work nor Horoy’s edition attracted more research into the sermons.2 They became the subject of detailed analysis only with James Powell’s publication of four short but insightful articles on the sermon collections and their prefatory letters as part of his research on Honorius III and the Fifth Crusade. His research on Honorius’s sermons includes analyses of the manuscript tradition and their dating, discussions of the prefatory letters accompanying the sermon collections, and an in-depth treatment of the sermon on Ego sum pastor bonus (John 10: 11) for Good Shepherd Sunday.3 Some of the key points in Powell’s work come from comparisons between the sermons of Honorius and those of his predecessor, Innocent III. More than eighty sermons have survived from this pope, and we are fortunate in that twenty-three of these overlap with those of Honorius, giving us a unique opportunity to compare the sermons of two consecutive popes from the High Middle Ages. The majority of Innocent’s sermons have been published in Migne’s Patrologia latina. 4 Given the extensive research into Innocent’s 1 Hon. III opera, i and ii, listed in Schneyer, Repertorium, v. The last sermon, which is not in the Sessoriano MS 51, has been published by Powell in his ‘Honorius III’s Sermo in dedicatione ecclesie lateranensis and the Historical-Liturgical Traditions of the Lateran’, Archivum Historiae Pontificiae, 21 (1983), 195–209; repr. Powell, Papacy, ch. IX. Bottiono’s introduction is in Hon. III opera, ii, xiii–xxiv. 2 F. Vernet, Étude sur les sermons d’Honorius III (Lyon, 1888). J. Clausen did not use the sermons for his monograph on Honorius III, which long remained the main work on this pope, and he referred only briefly to them. See J. Clausen, Papst Honorius III (1216–1227) (Bonn, 1895), 372. 3 J.M. Powell, ‘The Adventure of Three Manuscripts: the sermons of Pope Honorius III (1216–1227)’, Manuscripta, 21 (1977), 21; idem, ‘Pastor Bonus: some evidence of Honorius III’s use of the sermons of Pope Innocent III’, Speculum, 52 (1977), 522–37; repr. Powell, Papacy, ch. VII; ‘The Prefatory Letters to the Sermons of Pope Honorius III and the Reform of Preaching’, Rivista di Storia della Chiesa in Italia, 33 (1979), 95–104; repr. Powell, Papacy, ch. VIII; and ‘Honorius III’s Sermo’. 4 PL, ccxvii, 313–688. For an overview of Innocent’s sermons, see J.C. Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, Römische Historische Mitteilungen, 36 (1994), 81–142, at 113–35. The manuscript tradition of Innocent’s sermons was discussed in an unpublished thesis by G. Scuppa, ‘I sermoni

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pontificate, it comes as no surprise that his sermons have been the subject of more interest than those of Honorius. An overview of their date, style, audience, and subject matter has been published by John C. Moore, while a rhetorical analysis has been provided by Corinne J. Vause.5 Their content has been used by numerous scholars working on Innocent, including Walter Imkamp and Michele Maccarrone, testifying to the insights provided by this type of material.6

Honorius’s Sermons: the manuscripts and their recipients So far only four manuscripts have been identified as containing either Honorius’s complete sermon collection or a substantial part thereof.7 Powell convincingly argued that the earliest manuscript is Bologna, Biblioteca dell’Archiginnasio MS A925. In all likelihood it is that which in 1220 was sent to the new Dominican house in Bologna which had been founded in December 1218. The manuscript appears to be original (save for a few folios which have been replaced by a later hand on paper). The collection originally included sixty-eight sermons (eight are now missing) accompanied by a prefatory letter addressed to the Dominican prior and brethren at Bologna.8 Another sermon collection is found in Troyes, Bibliothèque Municipale MS di Innocenzo III’, unpublished doctoral dissertation, Pontificia Università Lateranense, Rome 1961; some of the main points of this thesis are summarized by W. Imkamp, Das Kirchenbild Innocenz’ III., Päpste und Papsttum, 22 (Stuttgart, 1983), 64–7. See also the comments in Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 81–3. For Innocent’s sermon on In conversione Beatae Mariae Magdalenae, see B. Hauréau, ‘Notices et extraits de quelques manuscrits latins de la Bibliothèque Nationale’, 1 (Paris, 1890), 161–80 (based on an incomplete version in Paris Bibliothèque Nationale, MS Cod. Lat. 13432) and K.L. Jansen, ‘Innocent III and the Literature of Confession’, in Innocenzo III, i, 369–82. For his sermon In resurrectione domini, see Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 135–42. For a hitherto unpublished sermon on Gregory I, see C. Egger, ‘The Growling of the Lion and the Humming of the Fly: Gregory the Great and Innocent III’, in Pope, Church and City: essays in honour of Brenda M. Bolton, ed. F. Andrews et al., The Medieval Mediterranean, 56 (Leiden, 2004), 13–46, at 39–46. 5 Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’; C.J. Vause, ‘The Sermons of Innocent III: a rhetorical analysis’, unpublished dissertation, University of California Santa Barbara, 1984. Vause also published, with F.C. Gardiner and J.M. Powell, an edition and translation of six of Innocent’s sermons in Between God and Man: six sermons on the priestly office (Washington DC, 2004). 6 See for instance W. Imkamp’s ‘Sermo ultimus, quem fecit Dominus Innocentius papa tercius in Lateranensi consilio generali’, Römische Quatralschrift, 70 (1975), 149–79 and his ‘Virginitas quam ornavit humilitas: Die Verehrung der Gottesmutter in den Sermones Papst Innocenz’ III.’, Lateranum, 46 (1980), 344–78. 7 Schneyer, Repertorium, v, 358 lists a fifth manuscript, Vorau MS 53, but Powell proved this to be incorrect (Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 525). 8 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 524–5 with additional comments in n. 14; Archiginnasio, MS A925.

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597. It may well be the original manuscript which in 1223 Honorius sent to Cîteaux along with a prefatory letter addressed to its abbot.9 The sermons listed are identical to those included in the Bologna collection, although some (including the fifth sermon, Ecce apparebit Dominus super nubem candidam, on Apoc. 19: 16) have a slightly different text, as Powell noted.10 The third manuscript collection is Graz, Universitätsbibliothek MS 1296. While it has similarities to the manuscripts in Bologna and Troyes, it also has amendments and corrections and includes material which was in the Troyes manuscript but not in the Bologna manuscript. This led Powell to suggest that the collection should be dated to sometime between 1223 (the date of the Troyes manuscript) and 1227 (Honorius’s death). It was originally sent to the community at Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome where Honorius had been a canon before his papal election, accompanied by a prefatory letter addressed to its archpriest. The surviving manuscript in Graz is a German copy from the first half of the thirteenth century.11 The fourth manuscript of Honorius’s sermon collection is Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Roma, Sessoriano MS 51. It has survived in the original, but evidence suggests it was a provisional draft rather than a completed gift manuscript, including instructions about the reordering of the sermons, the lack of a prefatory letter, the quality of the parchment, its lack of ornamentation, and the number of scribes involved in its production. The manuscript once belonged to the papal legate Pandulph, Honorius’s close associate and successor as papal chamberlain (1217–22), later bishop of Norwich (1222–6). It can only be tentatively dated to before Pandulph’s death in September 1226. After this date, the manuscript passed into the possession of the Cistercian abbey of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme in Rome.12 While the chronological order of the first three manuscripts seems unambiguous – Bologna (1220), Troyes (1223), and Graz (1223 × 1227) – it remains unclear where Pandulph’s copy fits in.13

Honorius’s Sermons: the dating of the sermons The sermon collections were thus sent out during Honorius’s pontificate, but in his prefatory letters, Honorius explained to the recipients that the 9 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, 99. 10 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 525, with n. 16; Troyes, MS 597. 11 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 525. 12 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 525–6, with n. 18; Sessoriano, MS 51; N. Vincent, ‘Pandulf’, in ODNB 42, 559-61. 13 Powell, ‘Adventure of Three Manuscripts’, 21.

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sermons had been written much earlier, over a long stretch of time.14 In his letter to the Dominicans in Bologna Honorius informed the friars that they were written before his election as pope.15 However, some of them may have been written later; Honorius certainly told the archpriest of Santa Maria Maggiore that some had been written while he was pope.16 This latter group is likely to have included his sermon on Celestis providentia maiestatis for the feast of the dedication of the Lateran Basilica on 9 November.17 Honorius also informed the Dominicans that he only recently, after many postponements, had been able to complete his revision of the sermons.18 He also referred to revisions in the later prefatory letters.19 The minor alterations that can be found between the collections support the idea that he took the time to look over his revised sermon collection before dispatching it to a new recipient.20 Powell’s analysis of the internal evidence of the sermon on Ego sum pastor bonus corroborates Honorius’s information that a revision of his sermons was undertaken after November 1215, as this sermon contains material from the Fourth Lateran Council.21 This fits with Honorius’s statement that he began his revision after his election, that is, after July 1216. Honorius’s remark in his letter to the Dominicans of 1220 that he had only recently finished the revision suggests that the first (and extensive) revision took place between July 1216 and 1220, with only minor alterations being undertaken after 1220. We are thus in the fortunate position that we have a fairly precise date for the major revision and compilation of Honorius’s sermon collections.22 14 Powell, ‘Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 2, 102–3, at 102; Hon. III opera, ii, xiv–xv, at xiv. 15 Powell, ‘Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 1, 101–2, at 101; Hon. III opera, i, xiv–xv, at xv. 16 Powell, ‘Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 3, 103–4, at 103. 17 For a discussion of its date, see Powell, ‘Honorius III’s Sermo’, 197. 18 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 1, 101–2, at 101; Hon. III opera, i, xiv–xv, at xv. 19 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 2, 102–3, at 102 and Appendix 3, 103–4, at 103; Hon. III opera ii, xiv–xv, at xiv. 20 His references to his revisions are accompanied by lamentations over the time pressures, business, and burdens which have prevented him from completing this task sooner. Although Honorius undoubtedly had much to attend to, such complaints were a common topos at the time. Innocent III used similar phraseology in his prefatory letter to Abbot Arnaud of Cîteaux (PL, ccxvi, 309–311; Between God and Man, ed. Vause et al., 4–6, note 48). Egger has suggested that Innocent III here drew on ideas and language from Gregory I (‘The Growling of the Lion’, 27–30). 21 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 524, 530–1. 22 We have less information about the compilation of Innocent’s sermon collection. Moore refutes van Dijk’s date of 1213–16 and argues that the majority of the collection would have been compiled already between 1201 and 1205 (with a few later additions). See Moore, ‘Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 85–7; S.J.P. van Dijk and J. Hazelden Walker, The Origins of the Modern Roman Liturgy: the liturgy of the papal court and the Franciscan Order in the thirteenth century (London, 1960), 97–9.

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Honorius’s Sermons: audience In some cases it is fairly straightforward to determine the audience of a sermon. Some contain parenthetical references to the nature of their audiences. In a sermon from 1213 by Stephen Langton (c.1150–1228), master of theology in the schools of Paris (from 1180) and later archbishop of Canterbury (1207–28), we find the archbishop directly identifying his audience when he admonished the congregation: ‘Because you are layfolk, it is your business to believe that your prelates are men who do all things discreetly and with counsel’.23 Honorius’s forms of address are not always that helpful. The most common was simply fratres,24 and it was indeed customary in contemporary sermons to address the audience as fratres or fratres carissimi/karissimi, dilectissimi or viri fratres.25 As lay audiences would have included both men and women (although seated separately in accordance with tradition),26 it is tempting to assume that this suggests an audience of clergy. However, using the sermons of Stephen Langton, Phyllis B. Roberts has shown that this mode of address cannot always be taken as evidence of a clerical rather than lay audience.27 Fortunately, Honorius did occasionally use addresses such as ‘vos praelati’ (you prelates) and ‘vos pastores ovium’ (you shepherds of the sheep), as in the sermons Qui vult venire post me (Matt. 16: 24) and Messis quidem multa (on Matt. 9: 37), which leave us in no doubt that he here addressed a clerical audience.28 Also intratextual evidence occasionally helps us out. The concluding remarks of Honorius’s sermon on Ego sum pastor bonus (John 10: 11–18) ­clearly show that that sermon was intended for the clergy. Honorius stated: 23 P.B. Roberts, Stephanus de Lingua-Tonante: studies in the sermons of Stephen Langton (Toronto, 1968), 47. 24 For example, Ecce nunc tempus acceptabile (Hon. III opera, i, 738–47); Ego sum pastor bonus (i, 916–25); Qui vult venire post me (ii, 340–52); Probasti Domine cor meum (i, 230–7). 25 Roberts, Stephanus de Lingua-Tonante, 50–1. These were also the terms used by Innocent III. Moore suggests that he tended to reserve the address fratres to prelates but recognizes that fratres occasionally also was used to address monks and that the forms of address hence cannot be used as a certain indication of the character of the audience (Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 83, 94). 26 A. Lecoy de la Marche, La chaire française au Moyen Âge: spécialement au XIIIe siècle, d’après les manuscrits contemporains (Paris, 1868), 206. 27 In one sermon, Langton first called his hearers fratres, but later stated ‘Vos laici dicitis quod omne bonum de terra [est]’ (Roberts, Stephanus de Lingua-Tonante, 51). 28 Hon. III opera, ii, 343 (Qui vult venire post me), and 259 (Messis quidem multa). All translations are the author’s own, unless otherwise noted.

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You, brethren, therefore, should seek not those things which are for your benefit, that is temporal usefulness, like the mercenary who is not the pastor, but those things which pertain to Jesus Christ, that is, with the good pastor, the salvation of souls. Thus you should watch over the flock committed to you so that you can arrive with it at the pasture of the eternal fatherland which Jesus Christ himself deigned to give to us and to you.29

Similarly, in his sermon for the feast day of St Gregory (September 3), Honorius reminded prelates of the need to set a good example for their flock and their subordinates, again showing that he was addressing a clerical audience.30 Honorius’s prefatory letters contain further information. His letter to the abbot of Cîteaux claims that his sermons had been read to the clergy and people of Rome (clerum populumque Romanum).31 Writing to his former ‘colleague’, the archpriest of Santa Maria Maggiore, Honorius specified that he had read them to his own congregation (oviculis), as part of his pastoral duties.32 External and internal evidence thus make it clear that Honorius had preached to both lay and clerical audiences. Many of the texts in his sermon collections addressed a clerical audience and/or touched on the importance of preaching and other pastoral concerns. This is not surprising, given the recipients of these collections. By sending out his revised sermon collections, Honorius now hoped to reach a new and wider audience. None of his prefatory letters suggest that they were dispatched in response to requests from the recipients; they were sent out at Honorius’s own initiative.33 He optimized his chances of having his message spread by targeting the Cistercians and the Dominicans, for whom preaching played an important role. He certainly hoped that his 29 Hon. III opera, i, 925, translated in Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 535. 30 Hon. III opera, ii, 149–58. 31 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 2, 102–3, at 102; Hon. III opera, ii, xiv–xv, at xiv. It is possible that the sermons originally contained references to the specific circumstances, time, and location in which they were given; these would then have been deleted during revision to make the sermons timeless and contextually independent. 32 ‘Quos sermones composuimus non solum his diebus in quibus sumus non meritis nostris set Dei misericordia et gloriose virginis matris super domum Israel constitute, verum etiam cum minoribus officiis fungebamur micas de mensa dominorum humiliter colligentes, ut et nostris oviculis ministraremus pabulum verbi Dei ne forte sanguis earum de nostris minibus quereretur’ (Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 3, 103–4, at 103). 33 In contrast, Innocent’s collection was sent to the Cistercians at the request of Abbot Arnaud (PL, ccxvii, 309–12, at 311–12; James M. Powell, ‘Foreword’, in Pope Innocent III: Between God and man: six sermons on the priestly office, x).

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sermons would circulate widely, expressing the wish that by sending out his sermon collections he could reach a larger audience, including future generations.34 In his prefatory letter to the Dominicans, he specifically asked the friars to help disseminate them. Using the biblical caution, ‘The people curse those who hold back grain, but a blessing is on the head of those who sell it (Proverbs 11: 26)’, he encouraged them to pass on gratis copies of the sermons.35 However, the modest number of surviving copies indicates that his strategy was not entirely successful. In contrast, more than sixty manuscripts of Innocent III’s sermons survive.36

Honorius’s Sermons: language The nature of the audience naturally determined the language of the sermon: they were delivered in a language that their hearers could understand. Those read to monks and secular clergy were spoken in Latin, while those addressed to lay audiences were spoken in the local vernacular.37 The latter were then translated into Latin before being written down;38 it was the customary language of publication and ensured that the text could be understood by learned audiences across Christendom. This was common procedure which can be observed in the preaching of Bernard of Clairvaux, Innocent III, and Stephen Langton.39 Honorius claims that his sermons had 34 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 2, 102–3, at 102; Hon. III opera, ii, xiv–xv, at xiv. 35 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 1, pp. 101–2, at pp. 101–2; Hon. III opera, i, xiv–xv, at xv. Innocent III used the same quotation when writing to Abbot Arnaud (PL, ccxvii, 309–12, at 309–10). 36 Schneyer lists fifty-seven manuscripts (Repertorium, iii, 48–9), but Scuppa expands the list to sixty-one manuscripts (Imkamp, Das Kirchenbild Innocenz’ III., 64; Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 84–5). 37 B.M. Kienzle, ‘Conclusion’, in The Sermon, ed. B.M. Kienzle (Turnhout, 2000), 963–83, at 971; Roberts, Stephanus de Lingua-Tonante, 52–3. Nicole Bériou warns that exceptions to this rule can be found. For example, Latin was occasionally used in sermons aimed at lay audiences (‘Les sermons Latins après 1200’, in The Sermon, 363–448, at 383). 38 In some cases listeners recorded the sermon as the preacher spoke (normally in Latin even if the preacher were using the vernacular). This was known as a reportatio. See D.L. D’Avray, ‘The Sermon after 1200’, in Medieval Latin: an introduction and bibliographical guide, ed. F.A.C. Mantello and A. Rigg (Washington DC, 1996), 662–9, at 662. 39 See Roberts, Stephanus de Lingua-Tonante, 53, 55–6; Powell, ‘Foreword’, in Pope Innocent III: Between God and man, x–xi; Moore, ‘Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 84, 94. Regarding Innocent’s preaching in the vernacular, Humbert of Romans (c.1194–1277) recounts how Innocent translated Gregory I’s homily on Mary Magdalene from Latin into Italian for his lay audience while a helper held the text before him (Bériou, ‘Les sermons Latins après 1200’, 428; Jansen, ‘Innocent III and

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been written in the vernacular Italian. 40 However, this statement occurs in his prefatory letter to the archpriest of Santa Maria Maggiore in reference to sermons which had been preached to the general public of Rome and his own congregation, and it seems likely that some of his sermons originally had been given in Latin, particularly those delivered to the clergy.

Honorius’s Sermons: purpose The sermons were not merely literary exercises or works of theology composed in sermon form. They had been proclaimed before an audience, as we have seen, as part of Honorius’s (or Cencio’s) pastoral duties. 41 What did Honorius hope to achieve by sending out his sermon collection? He may have intended his sermons to be used for private reading or as texts for meditation by members of the receiving communities. But in his prefatory letters he also explicitly stated that he intended to edify their audience and indeed to encourage them to lead a more moral life.42 We should not discard this as mere rhetoric. Like so many of his contemporaries, Honorius placed great emphasis on evangelizing and preaching as a means of instructing the faithful and thereby improving the state of Christendom, and he may well have seen his collections of sermons as an important contribution to this work. 43 A papal sermon was not only occasion for scriptural interpretation, but also an opportunity to disseminate curial ideas and perceptions to a wider audience. It could also be used to criticize a predecessor’s policies and promote a different programme. Powell has provided us with an example of this in his analysis of the sermons of Innocent III and Honorius III on the Literature of Confession’, 369). For the difficulties in assessing whether a written sermon had been preached in its extant form, see B.M. Kienzle, ‘The Twelfth-Century Monastic Sermon’, in The Sermon, 271–323, at 294–8. 40 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 3, 103–4, at 103. See also Powell, ‘Foreword’, x–xi; Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, 97–8. 41 Cencio had not only been canon of Santa Maria Maggiore; in December 1192 he was made cardinal-deacon of Santa Lucia in Orte and later, sometime before 1201, cardinal-priest of SS. Giovanni e Paolo. 42 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 1, 101–2, at 101; Hon. III opera, i, xiv–xv, at xv; Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 2, 102–3, at 102; Hon. III opera, ii, xiv–xv, at xiv; Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 3, 103–4, at 104. A secondary purpose, Honorius added, was to edify himself (prefatory letter to the prior and friars of the Dominicans in Bologna, printed in Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 1, 101–2, at 101; Hon. III opera, i, xiv–xv, at xv). 43 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, 99.

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Ego sum pastor bonus. There is no doubt that Honorius knew Innocent’s sermon well: he copied a short passage from it verbatim. 44 However, as Powell showed, their messages were quite different. While Innocent clearly ascribed great importance to the provision of pastoral care, he stressed the necessity for the Church of governance, obedience from the clergy and contributions from the laity, who were depicted as useful sheep offering their shepherds milk, wool, and other products in the form of first-fruits, tithes, and oblations (primitias, decimas, and oblationes). He thus showed his concern for the institutional needs of the Church. Honorius, in contrast, used his sermon to describe the characteristics necessary for a good shepherd to perform his pastoral ministry and save the souls of his flock; disregarding the temporal needs of the Church, Honorius stated that it is the evil prelate who extorts milk and wool from the sheep. 45 Similarly, although there are some textual and conceptual parallels between Innocent III’s and Honorius III’s sermons for the feast day of St Gregory, their messages reflect divergent perceptions of their signif icant predecessor (Gregory) and of the concerns of the Church. 46 Innocent highlighted Gregory’s intellectual and papal achievements and discussed biblical exegesis as well as the God-given authority of the papal office, while Honorius held up Gregory as an example of the good shepherd to be emulated by all those with pastoral responsibilities. The different views of the two popes would be clear to anyone who had access to both sermon collections, including the Cistercians.

Honorius’s Sermons: style, form, and use of authorities In the years after 1200, sermons often followed a set format. Briefly put, the starting point was a scriptural text, the theme, which was announced to the audience at the very outset of the sermon. It was followed by a protheme 44 Compare Honorius’s sermon (Hon. III opera, i, 916–25, at 920) with that of Innocent (PL, ccxvii, 405–10, at 408). 45 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 528–32, 535–6. 46 PL, ccxvii, 513–22; Hon. III opera, ii, 149–58. Innocent chose Sirach 45: 8 as his central text for the sermon, while Honorius III focused on Matthew 5: 13, but they both drew on Acts 1: 1. Honorius also used two other sermons by Innocent III, namely his sermon on the consecration of a bishop (PL, ccxvii, 649–54, as pointed out by Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 526 and n. 20) and his Sermo in consecratione pontificis (PL, ccxvii, 669). Innocent’s sermon has been discussed by Imkamp, Das Kirchenbild Innocenz’ III., 94–8; B. Bolton, ‘Signposts from the Past: reflections on Innocent III’s providential path’, in Innocent III, I, 21–55, at 52; John Doran, ‘In Whose Footsteps? The role models of Innocent III’, in ibid., I, 56–73, at 71–2; Egger, ‘The Growling of the Lion’, 33.

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(or exordium) which introduced a prayer (often followed by a statement of the preacher’s unworthiness); then came a development of the theme through divisions (based on different parts of the theme from Scripture) and distinctions (often based on the four meanings of Scripture: historical, allegorical, tropological, and anagogical); these were typically confirmed by other scriptural texts. This was followed by exempla from the Bible, saints’ vitae, or contemporary life. Finally came the peroration and the closing formulae. 47 John C. Moore has pointed out that in the early decades of the thirteenth century there was still some flexibility within this format, and that Innocent for instance tended to omit the pro-theme and that he furthermore rarely used exempla (apart from biblical stories). 48 Moore also quotes a passage from one of Innocent’s sermons in which the pope himself described his method of preaching. Interpreting the net which Peter was instructed to put into the sea, Innocent wrote: the net is to be understood as preaching. For the net is connected with diverse strings and cords, and preaching is strengthened by diverse authorities and arguments. For the thoughtful preacher should form the sermon according to the diversity of its subject matter and audience so that sometimes he speaks of the virtues, at others of the vices; occasionally of rewards, occasionally of punishments; now about mercy, then about justice; sometimes simply, sometimes subtly; using historical, allegorical, analogical, and tropological interpretations; through authorities and arguments. 49

His ideas were similar to those which can be found in contemporary preaching manuals and treatises which were being produced – often by masters of theology from Paris – in order to help the clergy take on their preaching duties and engage their audiences. They mirror in particular those in the 47 Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 87–8; Roberts, Stephanus de Lingua-Tonante, 76–9; also D’Avray, ‘The Sermon after 1200’, 662–3, and the works of H.R. and M.A. Rouse, including Preachers, Florilegia and Sermons (Toronto, 1979) and ‘Statim invenire: schools, preachers and new attitudes to the page’, in Renaissance and Renewal in the Twelfth Century, ed. R.L. Benson and G. Constable (Toronto, 1991), 201–25. 48 Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 87. For exempla, see C. Brémond, J. Le Goff, and J.-C Schmitt, L’exemplum, Typologie des sources du Moyen Âge occidental, 40 (Turnhout, 1982). See, however, the caution in D.L. D’Avray, The Preaching of the Friars: sermons diffused from Paris before 1300 (Oxford, 1985), 71. 49 PL, ccxvii, 557–8; translated in Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 87–8.

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Summa de arte praedicatoria by Alain de Lille (c.1128–1202), thus reflecting the years Innocent spent studying in Paris.50 The format of Honorius’s sermons is similar to that of Innocent. He too often omitted the protheme and preferred biblical stories to other forms of exempla, and he too made extensive use of divisions and distinctions. He was, however, aware of the limits of the patience of his audience: in some of his sermons, including those on Probasti Domine cor meum and Ego sum pastor bonus, he explained that he would omit lengthy expositions in order to avoid boring his hearers.51 Honorius’s sermons differed from those of Innocent in an important aspect, namely their use of authorities, including patristic writers, either as uncredited textual loans or as explicitly credited quotes.52 Uncredited textual loans are somewhat difficult to work with. Not only may they be difficult to identify, we should also be aware that they may not be conscious loans taken directly from the original work of its author: some patristic quotes became widely known and were used like proverbs, losing their link to their origins.53 As for explicitly credited quotes, we see a marked difference between Innocent III and Honorius III. Although Innocent praised the use of authorities and was greatly influenced by Gregory I in particular,54 he rarely explicitly quoted the church fathers in his sermons (at least as far as they have been transmitted in written form). John C. Moore has only found two explicit citations of patristic writers in Innocent’s sermons, namely one of Augustine and one of Gregory I.55 Honorius, in contrast, was inordinately fond of adding such quotes to his 50 Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 83 and 88. Other contemporary manuals from Paris include that by Maurice de Sully (d.1196) (Roberts, Stephanus de Lingua-Tonante, 44–5). 51 Probasti Domine cor meum (Hon. III opera, ii, 230–7) and Ego sum pastor bonus (ibid., i, 916–25). For similar examples from Innocent III’s sermons, see Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 83–4. 52 Added to such textual parallels are of course parallel concepts (to use the terminology of Egger, ‘The Growling of the Lion’, 27) and borrowed ideas and interpretations. An analysis of this in the sermons of Innocent III and Honorius III exceeds the scope of this article, but for some illustrative examples of how Innocent III’s works were influenced by those of Gregory I and others, see Egger, ‘The Growling of the Lion’, 27–37; Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 528; and Doran, ‘In Whose Footsteps?’, 72. 53 As argued and demonstrated by Egger, ‘The Growling of the Lion’, 21–3. 54 See Bolton, ‘Signposts from the Past’, 50–4; Brenda Bolton, ‘“A faithful and wise servant?”: Innocent III (1198–1216) looks at his household’, in Religion and the Household, ed. J. Doran, et al., SCH, 50 (Woodbridge, 2014), pp. 59–73; Doran, ‘In Whose Footsteps?’, 56–73 as well as the examples listed in n. 52 above. 55 Moore, ‘The Sermons of Pope Innocent III’, 81 with n. 2, drawing on Vause, The Sermons of Innocent III, 9; see also Jansen, ‘Innocent III and the Literature of Confession’, 377. To this should be added a reference to Gregory I published in Egger, ‘The Growling of the Lion’, at 46 and n. 43.

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sermons, explicitly naming his sources and thereby alerting his audience to the identity of the authority. In particular, he often used the works of Gregory I, crediting the beatus Gregorius.56 Indeed, Honorius explicitly referred to Gregory in about three quarters of his sermons. He did not restrict his use to Gregory, however, but used a variety of authorities, thus taking a very traditional approach to sermon composition. For instance, in the sermon Cum audieritis proelia (on Luke 21: 9), he used four different works by Augustine (Enchiridion ad Laurentium, his Sermo CV: de verbis Lucæ, Enarratio in psalmum LVII, and De doctrina christiana). He also quoted six different works by Gregory I, namely four homilies, Homilia I (on Luke 21: 25–32), Homilia IV (on Matthew 10: 5–10), Homilia XVII (on Luke 10: 1–9) and Homilia XXXV (on Luke 21: 9–19), and two different books from the Moralia in Job (Lib. V and Lib. VII). He also used Jerome’s Commentarium in Danielem prophetam.57 Another example is Honorius’s sermon Si quis diligit me (on John 14: 23). Here Honorius quoted Basil of Caesarea, Saint Ambrose, Saint Augustine, Isidore of Seville, the so-called Clementine Recognitions by Pseudo-Clementine, as well as five different homilies by Gregory I, namely Homelia VI (on Matthew 11: 2–10), Homelia XI (on Matthew 13: 44–52), Homelia XXV (on John 20: 11–18), Homelia XXX (on John 14: 23–31), and Homelia in Ezechielem II. Twelve of these quotes may also be found in the Liber scintillarum, suggesting that Honorius consulted this very popular work when he composed his sermon. The Liber scintillarum was a florilegium or a collection of biblical and patristic quotes, divided into eighty-one chapters, each devoted to a specific subject such as confession, silence, faith, hope, and alms. Compiled circa 700 AD by Defensor, a monk at St Martin’s at Ligugé near Poitiers, its popularity is attested by its survival in over 370 manuscripts.58 The twelve quotes can all be found in the chapter ‘De dilectione Dei et proximi’, a natural text to consult when composing a sermon on the text ‘If any one loves me, he will keep my word’ (John 14: 23). Honorius’s reliance on the Liber scintillarum is also suggested by three observations. On at least one occasion Innocent turned his preaching into one long quotation of Gregory I. As mentioned in note 39 above, according to Humbert of Romans, Innocent once read a sermon by Gregory I, rather than one of his own (Egger, ‘The Growling of the Lion’, 33). 56 See for instance Erunt signa (Hon. III opera, i, 610–20); Cum audisset Joannes (i, 632–40); Simile est regnum caelorum homini paterfamilias (i, 713–26); Cum audieritis proelia (ii, 313–28); and Probasti Domine cor meum (ii, 230–7). 57 Cum audieritis proelia (Luke 21: 9) (Hon. III opera, ii, 313–28). 58 R.H. Bremmer Jr, ‘The Reception of Defensor’s Liber Scintillarum in Anglo-Saxon England’, in … un tuo serto di fiori in man recando. Scritti in onori di Maria Amalia D’Aronco, ed. P. Lendinara, 2 vols (Udine, 2008), ii, 75–89, at 77–80. After Defensor’s death the work was ascribed to various authors, including Bede. See Bremmer, ‘The Reception’, 78; see also Sanctae matris nostrae catholicae ecclesiae dogmatum et morum, ed. A. Cigheri, 13 vols (Florence, 1791), xi, 276–367.

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Firstly, Honorius sometimes gave the quotes in the same order as the author of Liber scintillarum. For example, two quotations from Gregory I’s Homilia in evangelia XXX appeared in the same order in Honorius’s sermon as they did in the Liber scintillarum.59 Secondly, occasionally the Liber scintillarum was mistaken in its identification of its sources, but Honorius followed its attributions. Honorius thus credited a lengthy quote to Augustine; it was made up by two minor quotes which follow each other in the Liber scintillarum and both are attributed to Augustine by its author (Liber scintillarum III, nos 23–4). However, while the first part (‘Non autem carnalis, sed spiritualis inter vos debet esse dilectio’) indeed is a quote from Augustine, the second part (‘Nihil speciosius Deo virtute dilectionis, nihil desiderabilius diabolo extinctione charitatis’) is in fact a quote from Gregory I. Honorius did not spot this misattribution by the author of the Liber scintillarum, showing that he had not consulted the original texts and that he, quite naturally perhaps, did not possess perfect recall of the two writers’ enormous corpus of writings.60 Thirdly, Honorius ascribed the quote ‘Non poterit Deum diligere, qui noscitur in proximi amore errare. Discretionis bonorum est non odisse personas sed culpas, et recta pro falsis non spernere, sed probare’ to Basil,61 but it is in fact a quote from Isidore’s Sententiae.62 In the Liber scintillarum, the section with quotes from Isidore follows immediately after that with quotes from Basil, with just the words ‘Hysidorus dixit’ separating them. Were these two separating words simply overlooked when Honorius used the book, leading him to ascribe the Isidore quote to Basil? Honorius also often made use of Innocent III’s sermons and theological treatises, including his Liber de miseria conditionis humanae, as indeed he did in the sermon Cum audieritis proelia.63 However, as we have seen, these 59 Two short excerpts from Gregory I’s Homily XXX on the Gospels (Gregorius Magnus. Homiliae in evangelia, ed. R. Étaix, CCSL, 141 [Turnhout, 1999], 255–68, at 257, ll. 33–4, and 256, ll. 10–11) appear in Liber Scintillarum, iii, nos 32–3 (Defensoris Liber Scintillarum, ed. H.M. Rochais, CCSL, 117 [Turnhout, 1962], 15) and in Honorius’s sermon Si quis diligit me: Hon. III opera, i, 958. 60 Defensoris Liber Scintillarum, 14; Si quis diligit me: Hon. III opera, i, 958. The excerpt is from Gregory I, Regulae pastoralis liber, iii. 23 (PL, lxxvii, 92). 61 Si quis diligit me: Hon. III opera, i, 960. 62 Sententiae II.3, 7–8, Sententiae Isadorus Hispanensis, ed. P. Cazier, CCSL, 111 (Turnhout, 1998), 98. 63 He often quoted minor passages but occasionally he copied longer parts of Innocent’s texts; in his sermon In conversione beatae Mariae Magdalenae he copied more than a third of Innocent’s sermon on the same text. Honorius’s sermon is printed in Hon. III opera, ii, 313–28; Innocent’s sermon is not yet fully published but can be found in BAV, Arch. Cap. S. Petri, D. 211, fols 78r–81v; see also B. Hauréau, ‘Notices et extraits de quelques manuscrits latin de la Bibliothèque Nationale’, 161–80 and Jansen, ‘Innocent III and the Literature of Confession’, 382.

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literary loans were sometimes used to criticize Innocent’s views, as Honorius interpreted the themes from Innocent’s text differently, emphasized different aspects, or added more elaborations. It was not only the content of Innocent’s sermons with which Honorius disagreed. He may also have taken exception to Innocent’s preaching style. In his letter to the archpriest of Santa Maria Maggiore, he gives us an insight into his ideas about sermon composition. He wrote: For although our predecessors formerly composed many sermons replete with various authorities, often they were not careful in explaining the authorities they employed, although their granaries were full with every kind of produce (Psalm 143: 13). But we labour to explain whatever we employ here more clearly, so far as our ability allows, not seeking anything for ourselves but rather those things which are Jesus Christ’s (Philippians 2: 21), so that the minds of our hearers may be edified more in a change of morals than the people delighted by the ornateness of our words, as ‘it is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail’ (John 6: 63).64

This significant passage was discussed by Powell, who argued that Honorius was referring to the use he had made of Innocent’s sermons and his belief that Innocent’s textual explanations were somewhat unsatisfactory. Powell suggested that Honorius may have been unhappy with two aspects, namely the manner in which Innocent used his authorities and the completeness of Innocent’s interpretations.65 I should like to argue that the passage contains a third criticism, namely one of vanity and overly elaborate language. It suggests that Honorius advocated clarity of language rather than linguistic adroitness. His use of quotes from Philippians (2: 21) and John (6: 62) was intended to emphasize this point: eloquent speakers seek admiration and applause from their audience with ‘the ornateness’ of their words, but a preacher should, Honorius implied, not worry about gaining merit on such shallow and external grounds. He should rather concern himself with winning souls for Christ, with touching the spirit of his audience and leading them to improving their morals. It is not clear whether this criticism was directed against Innocent, but Innocent had certainly praised eloquence in his prefatory letter to the sermon collection which he had sent to Abbot Arnaud of Cîteaux.66 64 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, Appendix 3, 103–4, at 104, partly translated on 98. 65 Powell, ‘The Prefatory Letters’, 98. 66 PL, ccxvii, 309–12, at 311–12. An interesting comparison between the style of the two popes is provided in the sermon on Mary Magdalene (In conversionae beatae Mariae Magdalenae).

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The Sermons’ Interest for Historians The information offered to historians by sermons changed over time with their audiences and purposes. For instance, twelfth-century monastic sermons yield insights into these communities and their spiritual and everyday life, including their ideas about monastic obedience. With regard to the later popular sermons, extant sermons, preaching aids, and handbooks provide a wealth of data about the liturgy as well as the education and spirituality of the preachers and their lay audiences; snippets from saints’ lives and their interpretations speak to us of their devotion to saints and, along with other exempla, of their everyday life, attitudes, and social practices.67 Papal sermons present a slightly different case. They represented the view of the leader of Christendom – as both Innocent and Honorius were very aware – and hence the official view of the Church. In the form in which they have been transmitted to us, the papal sermons rarely refer to or comment on contemporary affairs and specific political events,68 although such references may well have been removed when the sermons were edited at a later date to make them more useful to preachers. The sermons do however give us a unique insight into papal ideology and theology, including the popes’ ecclesiological and eschatological views, and hence the sermons may add to our understanding of a pope’s underlying perception of some of the issues which unfolded during his pontificate.69 Furthermore, as suggested above, the sermons of Innocent and Honorius can give us an insight into some of the divergences of opinion within the papal Curia in the early thirteenth century. Honorius used a great deal of Innocent’s sermon but chose a very different writing style. Innocent used much more emotive language and directly addressed his audience much more frequently than Honorius did; Honorius’s sermon has a more analytical and didactic style, with many explanations and is, as a consequence, substantially longer (compare Hon. III opera, ii, 313–28 with BAV, Arch. Cap. S. Petri, D. 211, fols 78r–81v). 67 Kienzle, ‘Conclusion’, 980. 68 Among the few exceptions is Innocent III’s Sermo in concilio generali Lateranensi habitus (PL, ccxvii, 673–80), for convening the Fourth Lateran Council in November 1215, in which Innocent III, among other things, called for a new crusade in aid of the Holy Land. 69 P.-V. Claverie has thus shown how Honorius’s sermons shed light on a number of his theological ideas, including his understanding of the spiritual importance of Jerusalem, and Claverie argues that these insights help us understand the papal ideological background for the Fifth Crusade. See idem, Honorius III et l’Orient (1216–1227): étude et publication de sources inédites des Archives vaticanes (ASV), The Medieval Mediterranean: Peoples, Economies and Cultures, 400–1500, 97 (Leiden, 2013), 26–33.

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Conclusion While some of Honorius’s sermons had been written before his election, they had been the subject of detailed revision during his pontificate. His sermons should therefore be seen as reflecting the views of the reigning Pope Honorius rather than those of Cencius, canon of Santa Maria Maggiore or papal camerarius. Honorius’s sermons were intended to offer instruction on faith and morals to the faithful but they were also intended to be a means of disseminating his theological and ideological views to a wider audience. Among these were some which were critical of his predecessor. By sending out his sermon collections Honorius wished to influence the way preachers – and their audiences – perceived a variety of subjects. The sermons which went into the collections were carefully selected and reworked so that they contained those ideas that Honorius wanted to present to the wider Christian world. They therefore constitute a valuable source group for understanding his ideas, as indeed James Powell so convincingly demonstrated. About the author: Iben Fonnesberg-Schmidt, Aalborg University, Denmark

3.

Preambles to Crusading: the arengae of Crusade letters issued by Innocent III and Honorius III Thomas W. Smith*

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch03 Abstract This chapter analyses a sample of arengae (preambles) from the letters concerning the Holy Land crusades issued by Innocent III and Honorius III. It compares arengae from the letters of these popes concerning their accession to the papal throne and their calls to crusade as expressed in their encyclical letters. This study demonstrates that, despite drawing upon similar biblical imagery, both popes articulated discrete conceptions of their authority and employed differing theological frameworks within which to situate crusading to the Holy Land. The present chapter thus not only takes James Powell’s findings on the different outlooks of the two popes a step further, but also contributes to the scholarship on arengae by arguing that Innocent and Honorius each attributed great importance to composing bespoke preambles for their curial letters concerning the Holy Land crusades rather than emphasising continuity with their papal predecessors by copying their arengae. Keywords: Pope Innocent III, Pope Honorius III, crusades, arengae, papal letters, theology

In an article published in 1977, James Powell argued that the use by Honorius III (1216–27) of the pastor bonus sermons of his immediate predecessor, Innocent III (1198–1216), revealed important differences in their conceptions * I am very grateful to the Leverhulme Trust for the award of a Study Abroad Studentship (2013–15), during which this chapter was written, and I also wish to thank Brenda Bolton and Bernard Hamilton for their comments on the chapter.

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of papal authority.1 The impact of his argument was partly to dismantle the pervasive historiographical perception of Honorius as the less than original continuator of Innocent’s policies, who was considerably overshadowed by his great predecessor.2 Powell also demonstrated the rich pickings on offer to those with sufficient courage to take up the study of papal theology as well as to those attempting to contextualize diplomatic and chronicle evidence. Yet notwithstanding Powell’s academic leadership, the theological sources for the thirteenth-century papacy are mostly still waiting to be tapped. In common with papal sermons, the arengae or preambles to papal letters are complex but extremely valuable sources for papal theological positioning and are themselves of intrinsic worth in the study of diplomatic practice and papal authority. The arenga was the rhetorical preamble which served as the opening clause in an official letter (although it should be noted that not all papal letters contained an arenga). It set out the pope’s authority to decide on the matters to which a letter pertained and was designed to impress the recipient of the letter.3 Arengae were essentially miniature sermons which the pope and his curial officials carefully crafted using biblical quotations and allusions to construct a theological justification for a papal exhortation or order that followed in the so-called dispositio clause. 4 Far from being irrelevant rhetorical exercises, arengae were grounded in their contemporary political and ecclesiastical context, making them indispensable for understanding not only conceptions of papal authority but also papal diplomatic decisions.5 1 J.M. Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus: some evidence of Honorius III’s use of the sermons of Pope Innocent III’, Speculum, 52 (1977), 522–37; repr. Powell, Papacy, ch. VII. 2 J. Clausen, Papst Honorius III. (1216–1227): Eine Monographie (Bonn, 1895), 10–11; H.K. Mann, The Lives of the Popes in the Middle Ages, 19 vols (London, 1906–32), xiii, 20; A. Keutner, Papsttum und Krieg unter dem Pontifikat des Papstes Honorius III. (1216–1227) (Münster, 1935), 12; J.P. Donovan, Pelagius and the Fifth Crusade (Philadelphia PA, 1950), 105; S. Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols, (Cambridge, 1954), iii, 164; T.C. Van Cleve, The Emperor Frederick II of Hohenstaufen: Immutator mundi (Oxford, 1972), 108–9; P. Partner, The Lands of St Peter: the Papal State in the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance (London, 1972), 244; H.E. Mayer, The Crusades, trans. J. Gillingham, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1988), 220. 3 R.L. Poole, Lectures on the History of the Papal Chancery down to the Time of Innocent III (Cambridge, 1915), 42–43. 4 On the structure of papal documents, see T. Frenz, Papsturkunden des Mittelalters und der Neuzeit, 2nd edn (Stuttgart, 2000), 12. 5 W. Imkamp, Das Kirchenbild Innocenz’ III. (1198–1216) (Stuttgart, 1983), 85; H. Hold, ‘Autoritative Rhetorik: Eine Untersuchung an Arengen in Schreiben des Avignonenser Papsttums’, Archivum Historiae Pontificiae, 40 (2002), 175–97, at 182.

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This chapter analyses a sample of arengae from the letters concerning the Holy Land crusades issued by Innocent III and Honorius III. Beginning with a survey of the current state of research, it then compares arengae from the letters of these popes concerning the manner of their accession to the papal throne and their calls to crusade as expressed in their encyclical letters. The arengae of Innocent and Honorius demonstrate that, despite drawing upon similar biblical imagery, both popes articulated discrete conceptions of their authority and employed differing theological frameworks within which to situate crusading to the Holy Land. This is all the more striking because Honorius had served in the Curia throughout Innocent’s reign. The present chapter thus not only takes Powell’s findings on the different outlooks of the two popes a step further, but also contributes to the scholarship on arengae by arguing that Innocent and Honorius each attributed great importance to composing bespoke preambles for their curial letters concerning the Holy Land crusades rather than emphasizing continuity with their papal predecessors by copying their arengae. The historiography on arengae in general is sparse and, in spite of their importance and a recent growth of interest in them, papal arengae from the thirteenth century have yet to be subjected to systematic analysis in print.6 Heinrich Fichtenau, in an influential study published as long ago as 1957, focused on early medieval arengae from papal, imperial, royal, and episcopal documents, and demonstrated that they were actually borrowed and shared between institutions.7 This interpretation received support in Nanna Damsholt’s article of 1970 on the arengae of Danish royal documents, in which she drew attention to the impact of papal influence at the Danish royal chancery. 8 Damsholt further argued that successive Danish kings were eager to emphasize continuity with the reigns of their predecessors by reusing old arengae.9 More recently Bernard Barbiche contributed a short essay on the arengae in papal letters appointing legates between the thirteenth and seventeenth centuries, and 6 But see now, T.W. Smith, Curia and Crusade: Pope Honorius III and the recovery of the Holy Land, 1216–1227 (Turnhout, 2017), for a comprehensive discussion of the authorship, themes, and originality of Honorius’s crusade arengae, and idem, ‘The Use of the Bible in the arengae of Pope Gregory IX’s Crusade Calls’, in The Uses of the Bible in Crusader Sources, ed. E. Lapina and N. Morton (Leiden, 2017), 206–35. 7 H. Fichtenau, Arenga: Spätantike und Mittelalter im Spiegel von Urkundenformeln (Graz– Cologne, 1957). 8 N. Damsholt, ‘Kingship in the Arengas of Danish Royal Diplomas 1140–1223’, Mediaeval Scandinavia 3 (1970), 66–108, at 103, 105. 9 Damsholt, ‘Arengas of Danish Royal Diplomas’, 71.

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traced common themes throughout the period.10 Hermann Hold has also conducted research into the arengae of the Avignon popes, emphasizing their utility in expressing papal caritas.11 On Honorius III’s pontificate in particular, Iben Fonnesberg-Schmidt has studied the pope’s use of biblical quotations in letters concerning mission and crusading in the Baltic, finding them to be distinct from those in his letters on the Holy Land. 12 To date, research questions have thus centred on the originality (or lack thereof) of arengae and their position in the diplomatic traditions of the institutions that produced them – and that research has been taken into full account in this investigation. The arengae from the crusade letters of Innocent III and Honorius III demonstrate that the two popes possessed quite different conceptions of the authority inherent in their office and that they articulated these through the preambles of their documents. Nevertheless, although the arengae display clear differences between the two pontificates, it is almost impossible to ascertain whether either pope personally composed the text of their arengae in curial letters, given that such tasks were shared among the pope, his chancellor, and the papal notaries, and that specialist theologians at the Curia might well have been involved too.13 Yet it is clear that by the thirteenth century the pope’s role in the composition of letters had become both crucial and personal.14 Therefore, while we cannot definitively attribute the wording of theological statements in arengae to the pope himself, the spirit of each individual’s letters certainly belonged to him.15 Based on this rationale, the arengae discussed here are attributed to Innocent and 10 B. Barbiche, ‘Diplomatie, diplomatique et théologie: les préambules des lettres de légation (XIIIe–XVIIe siècle)’, in idem, Bulla, legatus, nuntius: études de diplomatique et de diplomatie pontficales (XIIIe–XVIIe siècle) (Paris, 2007), 147–56. I am grateful to Barbara Bombi for this reference. 11 Hold, ‘Autoritative Rhetorik’, 197. See also idem, Unglaublich glaubhaft: Die Arengen–Rhetorik des Avignonenser Papsttums, 2 vols (Frankfurt am Main, 2004). 12 I. Fonnesberg–Schmidt, ‘Pope Honorius III and Mission and Crusades in the Baltic Region’, in The Clash of Cultures on the Medieval Baltic Frontier, ed. A.V. Murray (Farnham, 2009), 103–22, at 109–19. 13 J.E. Sayers, Papal Government and England during the Pontificate of Honorius III (1216–1227) (Cambridge, 1984), 29; C. Egger, ‘A Theologian at Work: some remarks on methods and sources in Innocent III’s writings’, in Pope Innocent III and his World, ed. J.C. Moore (Aldershot, 1999), 25–33, at 28. A rare exception in the pontificate of Honorius III is analysed in P. Zutshi, ‘The Personal Role of the Pope in the Production of Papal Letters in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries’, in Vom Nutzen des Schreibens: Soziales Gedächtnis, Herrschaft und Besitz im Mittelalter, ed. W. Pohl and P. Herold (Vienna, 2002), 225–36, at 231–2. 14 Zutshi, ‘Personal Role’, 236. 15 Sayers, Papal Government, 29; Imkamp, Das Kirchenbild, 86.

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Honorius with the caveat that while these popes were undoubtedly closely involved in the production of the texts, they may have been neither the sole author nor even the author at all. From the beginning of their pontificates, Innocent and Honorius each propounded very different conceptions of their office in explaining the circumstances by which they were brought to the papal throne. Both dispatched letters to the Holy Land to announce their election and to reassure those in the rump Kingdom of Jerusalem that the recovery of the holy places would remain a papal priority. At some point between 1 and 10 February, following his election on 8 January 1198, Innocent dispatched a letter to Aimery, patriarch of Jerusalem, with an arenga bristling with self-confidence.16 In this, the thirty-seven-year-old pope deployed vivid biblical allusions to commemorate the death of his nonagenarian predecessor, Celestine III (1191–7), and to justify his own election as successor. In his arenga, Innocent presented the succession as the marvellous renewal of the Church through divine will, and cited St Paul, who had reminded the Roman Christians of the unsearchable judgements and incomprehensible ways of the Lord (Rom. 11: 33). According to Innocent, popes were God’s vessels on earth, summoned to the reward of eternal happiness (Phil. 3: 14) achieved through death once they had fulfilled the obligations of office. Innocent claimed that his election ushered in a new infancy which would serve to delay the rust of old age. A reference to the first book of Samuel echoed the formulaic words which he uttered outside the Basilica of St John Lateran on the day of his election the month before, when he had used the ‘seat of dung’ (sedes stercoraria) image to symbolize the marvel of his elevation to the papal throne: ‘raising up the needy from the earth and lifting up the poor out of the dunghill, that he may 16 Out of consideration for the limitations of space only the Latin text of arengae is provided in the footnotes. References are given to English translations where they exist. Reg. Inn. III, i, 11: ‘Rex regum et Dominus dominantium [Apoc. 19: 16], qui prodigia facit in celo sursum et in terra deorsum omnipotentie sue iugiter operatur indicia, ecclesiam suam per varias substitutiones pontificum mirabiliter innovans et nova semper prole fecundans et sic senium eius sua virtute consumens, ut hiis, qui fideliter in ipsius regimine militaverant, ad eterne felicitatis bravium evocatis [Phil. 3: 14], f ilios suscitet in parentes et in novam infantiam rubiginem transferat vetustatis. Inter cetera siquidem incomprehensibilia divine dispositionis iudicia et investigabiles vias eius magne miserationis esse credimus argumentum [Rom. 11: 33], quod sic a tedio sollicitudinum et curarum momentanee mortis compendio predecessores pro meritis responsurus absolvit, ut egenum de pulvere suscitatum et pauperem erectum de stercore sedere faciat cum principibus et solium Petri [1 Sam. 2: 8], quo nichil est inter homines gloriosius, obtinere, ut post vespertinos fletus letitia matutina succedat et ecclesia super parentis obitu de substitutione filii consoletur [Ps. 29: 6]: sicut diebus istis de nobis a Domino factum est et est mirabile in oculis nostris [Ps. 117: 23; Mt. 21: 42]’.

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make him sit with princes’ [1 Sam. 2: 8].17 This allusion tied in thematically with other biblical references on the Lord’s power of intervention on earth, and Innocent included a reference to Psalm 29: 6 at the end of the arenga to reassure Aimery and the clergy of Jerusalem that joy would follow the sadness of Celestine’s death. Innocent’s justification of his election makes him appear precocious, pugnacious, and perhaps even a little distasteful, given his allusion to Celestine as an exhausted old man who had served his purpose and had thus been swept away (‘et sic senium eius sua virtute consumens’). But the arenga was also bursting with energy and vitality and displayed great clarity of purpose – Innocent was obviously relishing the opportunity presented to him to renew the Church. It was a far cry from the account of his election in the Gesta Innocentii III, which emphasized the new pope’s great reluctance in accepting the papal tiara, which was the traditional, and, indeed, desirable, response to being elected.18 At the time of Innocent’s election there was no planned crusade to the Holy Land, which perhaps explains its omission in the arenga, although elsewhere in the letter Innocent promised the Patriarch that he would work towards the recovery of the Holy Land.19 Honorius’s arenga in his accession letter addressed to the Holy Land displays a vastly different interpretation of the divine forces that brought about his election as Innocent’s successor. Honorius was elected in Perugia on 18 July 1216, and on 25 July he issued a letter addressed to Raoul, patriarch of Jerusalem, as well as John of Brienne, king of Jerusalem, the masters of the Hospitallers and Templars, and the people of the Holy Land, to announce his accession and to reassure them that the Fifth Crusade was still on its way.20 In his arenga Honorius emphasized the divine marvels and changes 17 Le Liber censuum de l’église romaine, ed. L. Duchesne et al., 3 vols (Paris, 1889–1952), i, 311; J.C. Moore, Pope Innocent III (1160/61–1216): to root up and to plant (Leiden, 2003), 1. Unless otherwise noted, all translations are the author’s own. 18 Gesta Innocentii PP. III, in PL, ccviv, 17–228, at 19–20; D. Gress-Wright, ‘The Gesta Innocentii III: text, introduction and commentary’, unpublished PhD dissertation, Bryn Mawr College, PA, 1981; and printed Ann Arbor, MI, 1994, 2–3. Translated in Gesta Inn. III, 5. 19 B. Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust: Sparrow on the Housetop”: attitudes to Jerusalem and the Holy Land in the circle of Pope Innocent III’, in The Holy Land, Holy Lands, and Christian History, ed. R.N. Swanson, SCH, 36 (Woodbridge, 2000), 154–80, at 154–5. 20 Vatican City, Archivio Segreto Vaticano, Reg. Vat. 9, fol. 1r: ‘Magnus Dominus et laudabilis nimis [Psalm 144:3], gloriosus in sanctis, mirabilis in maiestatibus, faciensque prodigia [Exodus 15: 11], immutat tempora alto sue dispositionis consilio [Daniel 2: 21], cui consiliarius alius non existit, et vocat ea que non sunt, tamquam ea que sunt [Romans 4: 17], ut non glorietur omnis caro in conspectu eius [1 Corinthians 1: 29], sed quemadmodum scriptum est, qui gloriatur in Domino glorietur [1 Corinthians 1: 31]. Ipse namque dat secretorum scrutatores quasi non sint, et velud inanes iudices terre facit [Isaiah 40: 23], arefaciens stangna [sic], flumina in insulas

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which were incomprehensible to man. He presented himself as God’s chosen vessel through which Innocent’s crusade would be carried out and used the arenga to mark out his authority over the inherited enterprise. Nevertheless, he styled his own election in far more humble terms than those used by Innocent in 1198. Although Innocent and Honorius both alluded to Romans 11: 33 on the inscrutable ways and unfathomable judgements of the Lord, these appear incongruous in Innocent’s arenga and perhaps represented a token nod to tradition rather than anything else, given that he had no difficulty in explaining the death of the aged Celestine and his own election as the essential requirement for the renewal of the Church. But his election at such a young age was extraordinary and he referred to himself as a Benjamin (Gen. 44: 12) in the letter of 9 January 1198 announcing his election to the episcopate of France, thus acknowledging his youth and inexperience.21 Honorius’s use of biblical allusion, however, sat squarely within the theme of his complete arenga. While Celestine’s death could certainly not have been unexpected since he was already showing signs of illness before Christmas 1197,22 Innocent’s sudden death in his mid-fifties must have been a shock – and his own rust metaphor would hardly have been appropriate for a young pope who had energized the Church. Honorius attributed his accession to the Divine Providence and referred to Exodus 15: 11 and Daniel 2: 21 when wondering at the Lord’s ability to perform marvels and change circumstances according to His own high counsel. So far, a traditional position. However, Honorius explained God’s decision to intervene on earth with an allusion to 1 Corinthians 1: 29 ‘that no flesh should glory in His sight’. Paul here presents God as infinitely wiser and stronger than even the wisest and strongest of men, and hence also capable of selecting the humble – in this context Honorius – to bring to nought those that are not. Might this be read as a subtle barb directed at Innocent’s pontificate, or did Honorius regard this merely as a general sentiment about the Lord’s collocando [Isaiah 42: 15], ab oriente ac occidente congregat sibi semen, et dicit aquiloni da, et austro noli prohibere [Isaiah 43: 5–6], ut illi, quibus arridet prosperitas, filios aquilonis impedire non possint, venire in gratiam [sic] filiorum, qua ponit humiles in sublimi, et merentes erigit sospitate [Job 5: 11]. Cumque inconprehensibilia sint iudicia sua et investigabiles eius vie [Romans 11: 33], istud ex eis tenemus procerto quod omnia iusto facit iudicio nobis, tamen ineffabili et occulto’; P.-V. Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient (1216–1227): étude et publication de sources inédites des Archives vaticanes (ASV) (Leiden, 2013), 282–83. 21 Reg. Inn. III, i, 3-5, at 4. 22 ‘Deinde dominus papa Coelestinus ante Natale Domini paulatim coepit aegrotare’: Roger of Howden, Chronica, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols, RS 51 (1871), iv, 32; M.L. Taylor, ‘The Election of Innocent III’, in The Church and Sovereignty, c.590–1918: essays in honour of Michael Wilks, ed. D. Wood, SCH, Subsidia 9 (Oxford, 1991), 97–112, at 97–102.

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power to raise the humble up to the papal throne? He seems to have favoured this passage particularly and, in Iustus Dominus in (below), refers to 1 Corinthians 1: 27 in a way which had nothing to do with Innocent. The arenga probably reflects whispers at the Curia that the death of the relatively youthful Innocent on the cusp of the Fifth Crusade was part of God’s plan to have another pope to oversee the expedition. Nevertheless, such speculation must remain mere conjecture, although one could entertain the idea that Innocent’s approach to the exercise of papal authority might have rankled with Honorius, given that his humble accession arenga contrasts so sharply with that of Innocent. What is certain though is that Honorius showed more respect to his predecessor in this arenga than Innocent did to Celestine at his own accession.23 Honorius devoted the middle section of his arenga to the subject of the forthcoming crusade, and used quotations from the books of Isaiah and Job to promote himself as God’s chosen administrator of the Fifth Crusade, allusions which fitted into the already established theme of divine power. It was through Honorius that good fortune would smile on the crusaders, so that nothing would be able to prevent these ‘sons of the north’ from entering into grace. Honorius proclaimed that during his pontificate the humble would be set on high and those who mourned over the loss of the holy places would be raised up to safety. Apart from the reference to Romans, the popes employed entirely different biblical allusions to justify their accessions – the tone and message of the arengae are entirely distinct. They are quite different to the Danish royal arengae studied by Damsholt. Neither Innocent nor Honorius expressed the desire to stress continuity with their predecessors by reusing their accession arengae.24 Indeed, Innocent went out of his way to use his arenga to demarcate a clear break with Celestine III’s pontificate, and through Honorius’s adoption of a more humble stance in his arenga, he in turn clearly distinguished himself from Innocent. Stylistically, Innocent’s arenga is superior to that of Honorius and makes a more powerful statement of intent. This was precisely the message that the patriarch of Jerusalem wanted to hear in 1198: the promise of new blood being injected into the Curia and the call for a new crusade after the inconclusive outcomes of the Third Crusade (1189–92) and the German Crusade of Emperor Henry VI (1197–8). The situation on Honorius’s accession in July 1216 was quite different however – the 23 See also the argument that Innocent may have exhibited a ‘strong dislike’ of Honorius: Taylor, ‘Election of Innocent III’, 108. 24 Damsholt, ‘Arengas of Danish Royal Diplomas’, 71.

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Fifth Crusade had been summoned and the ruling elite in what remained of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem preferred to receive the reassurance that the crusade was going ahead than vague promises of change at the Curia. In this sense, Honorius was playing to his audience with the crusade-themed section of his arenga when he recalled Isaiah 43: 5–6: nothing was going to hinder the launch of the expedition. The arengae in the great crusade encyclicals from both pontificates differ vastly in terms of style and content. Innocent issued more calls for Holy Land crusades than most popes, which makes it possible to compare his crusade calls of 1198, 1199, and 1213 with each other, as well as with Honorius’s encyclical of 1223. Such a comparison testifies to the great value that the popes placed on the creation of customized arengae for important curial letters. It would have been entirely impractical, however, to compose unique arengae for common letters, and these were instead copied from formularies and developed in form over the course of pontificates.25 Innocent did not renege on the promise made at the time of his accession to the patriarch of Jerusalem. On 13–15 August 1198 he issued the encyclical Post miserabile which proclaimed the Fourth Crusade (1202–4) and called on the West to take up arms.26 The arenga of the encyclical is famous for its 25 See the commentary on the development of common forms of arengae to the time of Honorius III in Sayers, Papal Government, 101–22. 26 Reg. Inn. III, i, 336: ‘Post miserabile Ierusolimitane regionis excidium, post lacrimabilem stragem populi christiani, post deplorandam invasionem illius terre, in qua pedes Christi steterunt et ubi Deus, rex noster, ante secula salutem in medio terre dignatus est operari [Ps. 73: 12], post ignominiosam nobis vivifice crucis translationem, in qua salus mundi pependit et delevit cirographum mortis antique [Col. 2: 14], apostolica sedes super tante calamitatis infortunio conturbata laboravit clamans et plorans ita, quod pre incessanti clamore rauce facte sunt fauces eius et ex vehementi ploratu pene ipsius oculi defecerunt [Ps. 68: 4]. Verum ne, si secundum prophetam Jerusalem obliti fuerimus, obliviscatur nos dextera nostra, adhereat lingua nostra faucibus nostris, si non meminerimus eius [Ps. 136: 5–6]: clamat adhuc apostolica sedes et quasi tuba vocem exaltat, excitare cupiens populos christianos ad prelium Christi bellandum et vindicandam iniuriam Crucifixi [Is. 58: 1], usa ipsius verbo dicentis: “O vos omnes, qui transitis per viam, attendite et videte, si est dolor similis sicut dolor meus.” [Lam. 1: 12] Ecce enim hereditas nostra versa est ad alienos, domus nostre ad extraneos devenerunt [Lam. 5: 2], vie Syon lugent eo, quod non sint, qui veniant ad sollempnitatem, facti sunt inimici eius in capite [Lam. 1: 4–5], sepulchrum Domini, quod propheta gloriosum fore predixit, prophanatum ab impiis inglorium est effectum [Is. 11: 10]. Gloria nostra, de qua dicit apostolus: “Michi autem absit gloriari, nisi in cruce Domini Jesu Christi” [Gal. 6: 14], sub manu tenetur hostili et ipse Dominus Jesus Christus, qui captivitatem nostram pro nobis moriens captivavit, quasi captivatus ab impiis ab hereditate sua cogitur exulare [Eph. 4: 8]. Existente quondam in castris archa Domini Sabaoth, Urias domum suam ingredi recusavit a licito etiam uxoris se compescens amplexu [2 Sam. 11: 9–11]; nunc vero principes nostri, gloria Israel de loco suo in inuriam nostri translata, vacant adulterinis amplexibus, deliciis et divitiis abutentes. Et dum se invicem inexorabili odio

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length and rhetorical style. It opens with a lamentation on the state of the Holy Land that deploys striking biblical imagery in support of the pope’s crusade call: ‘If we forget thee, O Jerusalem, let our right hand forget her cunning. If we do not remember thee let our tongue cleave to the roof of our mouth [Psalm 136: 5–6]. Still the Apostolic See cries aloud, and she raises her voice like a trumpet, trying to arouse the nations of Christendom to fight the battles of Christ [Isaiah 58: 1]’.27 In this expression of grief, Innocent was echoing the impassioned style of Audita tremendi, Pope Gregory VIII’s moving arenga to the 1187 encyclical which launched the Third Crusade.28 Innocent criticized the Western rulers for fighting with each other and for committing adultery by comparing them unfavourably to the example of Uriah from the second book of Samuel who steadfastly performed his martial duty, ‘refusing to enter his own house and withholding himself from the lawful embraces of his wife’ while there was still a war to fight.29 Uriah had refused to return home while ‘the ark of God and Israel and Judah dwelt in tents’ (2 Sam. 11: 11). Yet the lay powers of Innocent’s day showed no such dedication to the tattered Latin possessions in the Levant. Through this allusion, Innocent was also aligning the lay powers of the West, especially Philip Augustus, with the biblical King David, who had committed adultery with Uriah’s wife.30 Innocent then included a section in which he imagined persecuntur, dum unus in alium suas nititur iniurias vindicare, non est quem moveat iniuria Crucifixi, non attendentibus ipsis, quod iam insultant nobis inimici nostri dicentes [Ps. 78: 10; Dt. 32: 37; Lam. 1: 10]: ‘“Ubi est Deus vester [Ps. 41: 4, 11; 78: 10], qui nec se potest nec vos de nostris manibus liberare? Ecce iam prophanavimus sancta vestra, ecce iam ad desiderabilia vestra manum extendimus et ea loca impetu primo violenter invasimus et vobis tenemus invitis, in quibus superstitionem vestram principium fingitis suscepisse. Iam infirmavimus et confregimus astas Gallorum, Anglorum conatus elisimus, Teutonicorum vires compressimus nunc secundo, Hispanos domuimus animosos. Et cum omnes virtutes vestras in nos duxeritis concitandas, vix adhuc in aliquo profecistis. Ubi ergo est Deus vester? Exurgat nunc et adiuvet vos et fiat vobis et sibi protector. Teutonici siquidem, qui se presumebant inauditum de nobis reportare triumphum, ad nos vehementi spiritu transfretarunt: et cum solum castrum Baruth nullo defendente cepissent, nisi eos sicut et alios principes vestros fuge benef icium liberasset, in se potentiam nostram graviter fuissent experti et eorum stragem ipsorum soboles perpetuo deploraret. Reges enim et principes vestri, quos dudum de terra fugavimus Orientis, ut timorem suum audendo dissimulent, ad suas latebras, ne dicamus regna, reversi, malunt se invicem expugnare quam denuo vires nostras et potentiam experiri. Quid igitur superest, nisi ut – hiis, quos fugientes in excusationem vestram ad terre custodiam dimisistis, gladio ultore peremptis – in terram vestram impetum faciamus, nomen vestrum et memoriam perdituri?”’ Translated in Crusade and Christendom, 28–37, at 31–3. See also Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust”’, 159–60. 27 Crusade and Christendom, 31. 28 Translated in Crusade and Christendom, 5–7. 29 Crusade and Christendom, 32. 30 Crusade and Christendom, 32 n. 9; Moore, Innocent III, 59.

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insults that the enemies of the crusaders could direct against the martial skills of the French, the English, the Germans, and the Spanish.31 Innocent employed this rhetorical device to belittle in particular the achievement of the recent German expedition which had managed to capture the cities of Sidon and Beirut.32 The pope was attempting to shame the recipients of the encyclical into action. The arenga to Post miserabile may have been long, stylized, and imaginative, but ultimately it was ineffective. Innocent’s 1198 crusade call failed to meet with the hoped-for response from the secular powers.33 On 31 December 1199, Innocent therefore issued a modified crusade encyclical, Graves orientalis.34 This employed a much shorter arenga which lacked biblical allusions and stood in stark contrast to that of the previous year. Innocent echoed his previous expression of grief over the loss of the Holy Land in a far more concise form, and merely stated that ‘we are compelled to weep over the sad miseries and urgent needs of the Eastern land, rather than to recount them’.35 He deployed an arresting image of the dangers faced by those few who were defending what was left of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, worrying that they ‘will make drunk the arrows of their enemies by the pouring out of their blood and will make welcome the swords of the pagans with their throats’.36 Again, the pope lambasted those secular rulers and others fighting their fellow Christians in the West when the Holy Land and her few defenders faced such dangers. 31 Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust”’, 159. 32 On the crusade, see: Graham A. Loud, ‘The German Crusade of 1197–1198’, Crusades, 13 (2014), 143–71; J. Møller Jensen and A.V. Murray, ‘Crusade of Emperor Henry VI (1197–1198)’, in The Crusades: an encyclopedia, ed. A.V. Murray, 4 vols (Santa Barbara, CA, 2006), i, 315–17, at 317. 33 A.J. Andrea, Contemporary Sources for the Fourth Crusade, The Medieval Mediterranean, 29 (Leiden, 2000), 24. 34 Register, ii, 258: ‘Graves orientalis terre miserias et necessitates urgentes iam potius peccatis exigentibus deflere cogimur quam referre, cum ad eum statum, si status tamen dicendus est casus, quod dolentes dicimus, eadem terra devenerit, ut, nisi citius ipsius fuerit necessitati succursum et occursum conatibus paganorum, pauci christiani, qui de defensioni hereditatis Domini et Crucifixi obsequiis devoverunt, hostiles sagittas sui sanguinis effusione inebriaturi credantur et paganorum gladios suis iugulis placaturi; reliquiis desolationis illius terre sine spe humani subsidii perdendis totaliter et ab hostibus occupandis, cum de partibus illis pene omnes iam redierint peregrini. Id autem hactenus Dominus Iesus Christus, ut probaret adhuc fortius fidem nostram et intelligeret plenius, qui sunt eius, misericorditer impedivit, manus eorum in ipsos convertens et eos inter se multiformiter discordantes permittens adinvicem desevire, ut christianis interim ad ipsius terre subsidium excitatis facilior daretur facultas recuperandi perdita et de hostibus triumphandi’. Translated in Andrea, Contemporary Sources, 24–32, at 26. 35 Andrea, Contemporary Sources, 26. 36 Ibid., 26.

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Innocent’s two arengae shared broad themes but were completely different chancery products. The arenga from Graves orientalis channelled ideas from Post miserabile but merely summarized its rhetoric. The fact that a new arenga was composed when that of Post miserabile could have been reworked or reused is testimony to the perceived importance of these diplomatic clauses. The persuasive power of a reworked arenga in a crusade encyclical would have been greatly reduced had lay powers begun to think of them as being merely stock rhetoric. Popes, therefore, had to produce unique arengae for each call to crusade if they were to stand a chance of being effective in rousing Christendom. Yet, despite the fact that more effort was invested in the arenga for the 1198 crusade call than its successor a year later, its effectiveness was not great. Indeed, as a piece of rhetoric aimed at inspiring Western rulers to turn aside from their quarrels and rescue the Holy Land, the arenga from Post miserabile was a dismal failure. Yet as a mirror of papal thought it is invaluable. Innocent articulated his authority imaginatively and provocatively, and in a style so different to that of Honorius, a matter to which we shall soon turn. The arenga from Quia maior, Innocent’s encyclical issued between 19–29 April 1213, which launched preparations for the Fifth Crusade (1217–21), had much in common with Post miserabile.37 Similarities in style and length 37 PL, ccxvi, 817–18: ‘Quia major nunc instat necessitas quam unquam exstiterit ut terrae sanctae necessitatibus succurratur, et de succursu speratur major quam unquam provenerit utilitas proventura, ecce resumpto clamore clamamus ad vos, et pro illo clamamus qui moriendo voce magna clamavit in cruce, factus obediens Deo Patri usque ad mortem crucis, clamans ut nos ab aeternae mortis eriperet cruciatu [Mt. 27: 50; Lk. 23: 46], qui clamat etiam per seipsum, et dicit: Si quis vult venire post me, abneget semetipsum, et tollat crucem suam, et sequatur me [Mt. 16: 24]; ac si diceret manifestius: Qui vult me subsequi ad coronam, ne quoque subsequatur ad pugnam, quae nunc ad probationem proponitur universis. Poterat enim omnipotens Deus terram illam, si vellet, omnino defendere, ne in manus traderetur hostiles. Posset et illam, si vellet, de manibus hostium facile liberare, cum nihil possit ejus resistere voluntati [Rom. 9: 19]. Sed cum jam superabundasset iniquitas [Rom. 5. 20], refrigescente charitate multorum [Mt. 24: 12], ut fideles suos a somno mortis ad vitae studium excitaret, agonem illis proposuit in quo fidem eorum velut aurum in fornace probaret [1 Pt. 1: 7], occasionem salutis, imo salvationis causam praestando, ut qui fideliter pro ipso certaverint, ab ipso feliciter coronentur, et qui ei noluerint in tantae necessitatis articulo debitae servitutis impendere famulatum, in novissimo districti examinis die justam mereantur damnationis sententiam sustinere. O quanta jam provenit utilitas ex hac causa! quam multi conversi ad poenitentiam pro liberatione terrae sanctae mancipaverunt se obsequio crucifixi, et quasi per agonem martyrii coronam gloriae sunt adepti [1 Pt. 5: 4; 1 Thes. 2: 19], qui forte in suis iniquitatibus periissent, carnalibus voluptatibus et mundanis illecebris irretiti! Vetus est hoc artif icium Jesu Christi, quod ad suorum salutem f idelium diebus istis dignatus est innovare. Si enim rex aliquis temporalis a suis hostibus ejiceretur de regno, nisi vassalli ejus pro eo non solum res exponerent, sed personas, nonne cum regnum recuperaret amissum, eos velut inf ideles damnaret, et excogitaret in eos inexcogitata tormenta, quibus

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suggest that the arengae from Post miserabile and Quia maior better reflect Innocent’s conception of his authority to launch crusades than the cursory preamble which opens Graves orientalis. The arenga to Quia maior displays a similar, albeit much shorter, outpouring of papal grief on behalf of Christ to that of Post miserabile, with numerous allusions made to Matthew 27: 50 and Luke 23: 46. Innocent stated that, although it was within God’s power to grant the Holy Land to the Christians (Romans 9: 19), He had ‘proposed a task for them in which He can test their faith like gold in a furnace’ (1 Peter 1: 7). This arenga also shares a similarly provocative approach to that of the 1198 encyclical by threatening those Christians who would not contribute to the crusade with ‘a just sentence of damnation on the final day of the last judgment’.38 Innocent’s threat went hand-in-hand with his extension of the crusade privilege to encompass those who supported the crusade financially without personally taking part.39 He applied the metaphor of vassals serving their temporal lord to Christians serving the Lord, and criticized those who did not sacrifice everything on His behalf. This feudal topos was relatively common in Innocent’s letters. 40 Honorius employed it himself in the arenga of a letter to Philip Augustus in 1223, although Honorius arguably displayed greater originality in his use of the metaphor. 41 Whereas Innocent appeared belligerent and threatened ‘unperderet male malos? Sic Rex regum, Dominus Jesus Christus, qui corpus et animam et caetera vobis contulit bona, de ingratitudinis vitio et inf idelitatis crimine vos damnabit, si ei quasi ejecto de regno, quod pretio sui sanguinis comparavit, neglexeritis subvenire. Sciat ergo se culpabiliter durum et dure culpabilem quicunque in hoc necessitatis articulo suum negaverit obsequium Redemptori. Nam et quomodo secundum praeceptum divinum diligit, proximum suum sicut seipsum [Lv. 19: 18; Mt. 19: 19] cui scit fratres suos fide ac nomine Christianos apud perfidos Saracenos ergastulo diri carceris detineri ac jugo deprimi gravissimae servitutis, ei ad liberationem eorum efficacem operam non impendit, transgrediendo illius naturalis legis mandatum, quod Dominus in Evangelio declaravit. Quaecunque vultis ut faciant vobis homines, et vos facite illis [Mt. 7: 12]. An forte nescitis quod apud illos multa millia Christianorum in servitute ac carcere detinentur, qui tormentis innumeris cruciantur?’ Translated in Crusade and Christendom, 107–12, at 107–8. 38 Crusade and Christendom, 108. 39 Powell, Anatomy, 20. 40 S. Schein, Gateway to the Heavenly City: crusader Jerusalem and the Catholic West (1099–1187) (Aldershot, 2005), 45–6. 41 Reg. Vat. 12, fol. 39r: ‘Nonne vassallus cuiuslibet domini temporalis quasi proditionis reus et feodo quod tenet ab eo iudicaretur indignus, si domini sui terram intrantibus hostibus pro viribus non resisteret, et se iuxta posse ad expulsionem non attingeret eorundem?’; Reg. Hon. III, no. 4321. See the argument in support of this point in U. Schwerin, Die Aufrufe der Päpste zur Befreiung des Heiligen Landes von den Anfängen bis zum Ausgang Innozenz IV.: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der kurialen Kreuzzugspropaganda und der päpstlichen Epistolographie (Berlin, 1937), 64.

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thinkable tortures’ against reluctant vassals of the Lord, Honorius succinctly implied that such men were guilty of treason and unworthy of their fiefs. It makes Innocent’s example from Quia maior appear quite unsophisticated by comparison. Honorius’s crusade encyclical Iustus Dominus in, issued between 11–23 April 1223, was a product of his negotiations with Emperor Frederick II at Ferentino a month previously, and aimed to secure support for the imperial crusade planned for 1225. 42 Its arenga demonstrates how popes drew on a common store of biblical knowledge yet deployed it in their own distinct manner. Honorius’s preamble reveals that he went about inspiring the lay powers to action in a manner quite different from that of Innocent. The arenga was shorter than those in Innocent’s encyclicals of 1198 and 1213 and differed greatly in content. Though Honorius lamented the failure of the Fifth Crusade, he did not articulate in this letter the same degree of grief for the state of the Holy Land as had his predecessor in 1198. While in Post miserabile Innocent had depicted the Holy Land as being on the brink of collapse, Honorius’s arenga opened with a more positive picture, and emphasized how the cause might wax and wane in relation to God’s support for the expeditions. Such a view was reminiscent of Innocent’s statement in Quia maior, that it was within God’s power simply to restore the Holy Land to the crusaders but, in Iustus Dominus in, Honorius did not set up the new crusade as such a clear-cut test of faith. He merely alluded to Psalm 144 to explain that the Lord was just in all his ways – while the crusaders had brought the failure of the Fifth Crusade on themselves, they now had a favourable opportunity to redeem themselves. 42 Reg. Vat. 12, fol. 52: ‘Iustus Dominus in omnibus viis suis [Ps. 144: 17], qui unicuique pro meritis condigna retributione respondet, circa negotium Terre Sancte, spem populi Christiani fovit aliquando prosperis, et interdum debilitavit adversis. O quantum Christocolis videbatur arridere prosperitas, o quantum illuxisse credebatur f idelibus felicis aurora successuum, quando crucesignatorum exercitus Egyptum aggrediens, post turrim captam, post transitum fluminis, post hostes exterritos, in adversariorum stationibus castra fixit, et Damiatam, que robur censebatur Egypti, duris obsidionis angustiis coartavit. Res quidem agebatur miraculi, cum Dominus, qui elegit infirma mundi, ut confunderet fortia [1 Cor. 1: 27], civitatem expugnationi difficilem eo tempore tradidit gerentibus bellum eius, quo invaluerat multum partis adverse potentia, et abbreviatus erat non modicum nostrorum numerus bellatorum. Habebat autem in hiis universitas Christiana unde protenderet quasi certe spei fiduciam in futurum, verum succendentibus prosperis victores obliti nomen Domini post triumphum [Gen. 40: 23], dato virtutibus libello repudii [Jer. 3: 8], sic contraxere cum vitiis, quod detrahebatur fidei, ubi convertendi fuerant infideles, et maior erat peccatorum commissio, ubi maior remissio sperabatur’; Reg. Hon. III, no. 4262. On the 1223 Crusade call, see also Thomas W. Smith, ‘Honorius III and the Crusade: responsive papal government versus the memory of his predecessors’, in The Church on its Past, ed. P.D. Clarke and C. Methuen, SCH, 49 (Woodbridge, 2013), 99–109, at 107–8.

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The arenga of Iustus Dominus in contained a brief narrative segment halfway through which explained the Curia’s perception of why the Fifth Crusade failed. While Innocent had criticized such general sins as adultery and infighting perpetrated by those in the West, Honorius focused instead on the individual sins of the crusaders and how these had ruined the Fifth Crusade, using ample allusions to Genesis and Jeremiah. Yet he did not use his arenga to provoke a reaction or threaten dire consequences for non-participation as Innocent had in his. Stylistically, Iustus Dominus in was by no means as refined as Post miserabile or Quia maior. If anything, it bore a greater resemblance to Graves orientalis, which was also clearly produced in haste, unlike the more carefully considered calls of 1198 and 1213. Nevertheless, Honorius still accomplished a clever rhetorical flourish when he insisted that the crusaders, after capturing Damietta, had shown themselves so ungrateful as to forget the name of the Lord who had brought about their success (Gen. 40: 23) and had issued a bill of divorce (Jer. 3: 8) in order to enter into a contract with vices. According to Honorius, this divorce led directly to sins being committed when the sinners ought instead to have been seeking remission. Proof exists then that Honorius was capable of producing elegant imagery in arengae, something which is borne out in an examination of his other preambles. 43 Although we do not possess a crusade encyclical arenga from Honorius’s pontificate which could be compared with either of those from 1198 and 1213 (which demonstrate Innocent’s long-term planning), the evidence we do have shows clearly the difference in attitude between them. In common with the accession arengae, some dissimilarities between the arengae of the two popes must be attributed to the contemporary situation – Honorius was organizing a crusade under very different conditions to those pertaining during Innocent’s pontificate. While Innocent was attempting to recruit new crusades ab initio, Honorius was actively seeking support for Frederick II’s promised imperial crusade. Innocent’s crusade encyclicals were the mature products of long-term crusade planning whereas, following the papal–imperial colloquium at Ferentino in March 1223 at which Frederick made a renewed commitment to crusade, Honorius’s encyclical was hastily produced within a month. 44 It should, therefore, come as no surprise that, purely in terms of style, Iustus Dominus in compares unfavourably to Post miserabile and Quia maior. Honorius was also trying to drum up support immediately after the failure of the Fifth Crusade – it was natural that he 43 See Smith, Curia and Crusade. 44 W. Stürner, Friedrich II., 1194–1250, 2 vols (Darmstadt, 1992–2000), ii, 91, 93.

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would concentrate on how close the undertaking had come to success. Although Innocent was composing his 1198 encyclical immediately after the disappointment of the German Crusade of 1197–8, his arenga was still heavily influenced by loss of the Holy Land following the Battle of Hattin in 1187 and bears many stylistic similarities to Gregory VIII’s Audita tremendi. The differences in style between Iustus Dominus in and Post miserabile are proof of the individually tailored nature of arengae in crusade encyclicals. Honorius clearly did not feel compelled to attempt to imitate his predecessor’s language, biblical justifications, or rhetorical devices. Although there was naturally some overlap of biblical source material in the composition of arengae, both popes possessed different conceptions of the best way to style the preambles of their crusade encyclicals. In conclusion, this short survey of the arengae in the crusade letters issued by Innocent and Honorius confirms and advances Powell’s findings from his research into the sermons of both popes. 45 In common with their sermons, the arengae of Innocent and Honorius demonstrate differing conceptions of the authority of their office and different constructions in their arengae, despite relying on similar biblical imagery. Some differences can be attributed to the changing circumstances in which the letters were produced. In itself, this tells us something important about high medieval papal arengae in curial letters, namely, that they were most often bespoke. Although shared themes were reminiscent of previous popes such as Gregory VIII, neither Innocent nor Honorius simply recycled crusade arengae to emphasize continuity with their predecessors. The sample of preambles to crusade letters presented in this chapter reveal clear differences between Innocent and Honorius, both in the way they perceived their own authority and the ways in which they exercised it to organise crusades to the Holy Land. About the author: Thomas W. Smith, University of Leeds, UK

45 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 523–4, 536–7.

Part II Crusades and the Islamic World

4. Tolerance for the Armies of Antichrist: life on the frontiers of twelfth-century Outremer Jay Rubenstein

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch04 Abstract The ethos of holy war in the First Crusade depended in part on a rejection of Islam as a false religion inspired by Satan and connected to the eventual advent of Antichrist. For some European observers, eastern forms of Christianity were tainted by association with Islam. After the crusade, however, the survival of the nascent crusader states demanded frequent cultural and economic exchanges with Islam. King Baldwin I was especially instrumental in creating avenues of engagement with Muslims, Syrians, and Armenians. Western observers maintained the intolerant worldview of the First Crusaders. The growing cultural divide between the Franks of Europe and the Levant intensified Western indifference to the Levant on the eve of Hattin. Keywords: Islam, Radulfus Niger, Templars, Fulcher of Chartres, Baldwin I, medicine, tolerance/intolerance

In the introduction to Muslims under Latin Rule, 1100–1300, James M. Powell spoke of ‘a growing realization of the inadequacy of the modern idea of toleration to explain the experience of premodern societies’.1 In place of a post-Enlightenment focus on the role of the state in regulating religious belief, Powell argued for a methodology rooted more in anthropological theory, one that concentrated on communal interactions, notions of status, and ‘the conferral of religious protection’ of one group upon members of another. This more nuanced approach he advocated there has since carried 1 Powell, Muslims, 4.

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the day in studies both of the Frankish settlements in the Levant and in patterns of religious conflict and coexistence in the Middle Ages more generally.2 The particular question of Frankish–Muslim interaction in the early crusade era, however, raises questions of religious tolerance that challenge even the recent, more sophisticated interpretive models. The period of ‘Muslims’ docility’, to borrow a phrase from Benjamin Z. Kedar,3 that followed the brutal conquest of the First Crusade was in part a sign of the ability of the Frankish settlers to achieve a tenuous peace with their new subjects. But these new patterns of toleration – or perhaps simple forbearance – raised serious conceptual difficulties for veterans and partisans of the crusade movement. While most of the Frankish settlers in Outremer learned to live with these contradictions, Western observers found them troubling in ways that threatened to undermine the entire idea of crusading. One can see these tensions acted out almost schematically in reaction to a European tour undertaken in 1184 by Heraclius, the patriarch of Jerusalem. Heraclius was hoping to raise awareness of looming crises in the Holy Land, and to raise monies and armies, too. Based on the reaction of Radulfus Niger, an English cleric who as an exile saw Heraclius speak in France, the patriarch may have done more harm than good. He was clothed in garments decorated in gold and in silver, spoke with a strange accent, and was redolent with perfumes. ‘I saw his cloak’, Radulfus emphasizes, ‘a cloak the likes of which I have never seen here, so precious was it. To be sure, no patriarch in the western world keeps a similar accoutrement’. 4 Radulfus included this anecdote as part of a much larger theological-exegetical treatise on ‘the threefold pilgrimage to Jerusalem’, in which he argued for the superiority of spiritual pilgrimages and of internal wars against temptation and vice over physical, material, geographic pilgrimages which led only to dull, literal battles against Muslims. If he were himself a Muslim, we could say that Radulfus advocated here in favour of the greater jihad and against the lesser jihad. The Frankish Crusader States, in his analysis, had gotten 2 Demonstrated in the former category by the work of R. Ellenblum, for example, his Frankish Rural Settlement in the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem (Cambridge, 1998) and C. MacEvitt, The Crusades and the Christian World of the East: rough tolerance (Philadelphia PA, 2008); and in the latter category, D. Nirenberg, Communities of Violence: persecution of minorities in the Middle Ages (Princeton NJ, 1996). 3 D. Abulafia, ‘The Subjected Muslims of the Frankish Levant’, in Powell, Muslims, 135–74, at 160. 4 All translations are the author’s own, unless otherwise indicated. ‘Vidi capellam eius, cui similem nusquam viderim neque adeo pretiosam. In summa, similem apparatum non habuit ullus occidui orbis patriarcha’; Radulfus Niger, De re militari et triplici via peregrinationis Ierosolimitane, ed. L. Schmugge (Berlin and New York, 1977), 193–4 (iii.83). On Niger’s career, see G.B. Flahiff, ‘Ralph Niger: an introduction to his life and works’, Mediaeval Studies, 2 (1940), 104–26.

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their priorities backwards, growing fat off Eastern riches, even as they themselves became Eastern in dress, conduct, and accent. Even the loss of Jerusalem in 1187 following Saladin’s victory at Hattin could not shake Radulfus’s conviction that crusading had become, at best, an unnecessary distraction, and at worst, a morally dangerous affair. Radulfus’s view was unusual,5 but he was not the only prominent European intellectual to think along these lines. His fellow Angevin courtier, Walter Map, looked with similar distaste at the crusade movement, and the Templars in particular. The Templars, he believed, had long been in league with the Saracens, secretly plotting ways to undermine Christian armies in the East so as to prolong the wars and to increase the Templars’ already vast supplies of hidden treasure.6 In their collaboration with the enemy, the Templars seemed in Map’s analysis the sinister product of the kind of acculturation that Heraclius represented and that Radulfus had found so disturbing. This belief in collusion between Franks and Saracens predated conspiratorial whispers about the Templars, going back to at least the Second Crusade. The reasons for the failure of that campaign (particularly the disastrous five-day siege of Damascus in 1148) were controversial at the time, and indeed remain so. Better organized and perhaps more numerous than the First Crusaders, under the leadership of the French king Louis VII and the German king Conrad III, the only plausible explanation for their defeat was that the Franks of Outremer had deliberately undermined them. In light of the factional politics characteristic of the royal court in crusader Jerusalem, the charge may not have been without merit. Whatever the case, the stories caused the German theologian Gerhoch of Reichersberg to lament, ‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you once killed and stoned your own prophets who had been sent to you. Why are you seen now to add new murders of Christians to the old, unless you want to fill your fathers’ half-empty cup with Christian blood?’7 The sentiment may not have been universal, but in the later twelfth century, on the eve of Hattin, there was a sense among many 5 Gerald of Wales, for example, gives a much more sympathetic account of Heraclius’s negotiations with Henry II. See De principis instructione liber, ed. G.F. Warner, RS 21 (London, 1891). A recent book examines some of Radulfus’s possible intellectual sympathizers: M. Aurell, Les Chrétiens contre les Croisades, XIIe –XIIIe siècle (Paris, 2013). 6 Walter Map, De nugis curialium = Courtiers’ Trifles, ed. and trans. M.R. James, rev. by C.N.L Brooke and R.A.B. Mynors (Oxford, 1983), 60–3 (i.20). 7 De investigatione Antichristi, ed. E. Sackur, MGH Libelli de lite imperatorum et pontificum, 3 vols (Hanover, 1891–7), iii, 377, ‘Ierusalem, Ierusalem, que occidisti olim prophetas et lapidasti eos, qui ad te missi fuerant, quid tibi visum est, ut nova christianorum homicidia veteribus adderes, nisi ut ista faciendo mansuram patrum tuorum semiplenam christianorum sanguine impleres!’.

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Europeans that the Western and Eastern Franks had gone their separate ways, and that the latter group, in particular, had gone native. These varied European reactions to events, rumours, and actual people from the Holy Land return our attention to the problems of religious and cultural tolerance within the crusade movement. As James M. Powell and Michael Gervers have noted, the larger historical question of tolerance in the Western tradition is one inseparable from modern assumptions about the Middle Ages, in particular a belief that prejudices and bigotry have fundamentally medieval origins, ‘a product of religious intolerance and superstition that was overthrown only by the triumph of reason in the Age of Enlightenment’.8 And as Radulfus reminds us, this traditional viewpoint of the Middle Ages is not entirely without merit. A real, instinctive prejudice against Eastern culture did exist in some quarters, and the crusade is the most obvious expression of it. Despite the recent historical impulse to emphasize the penitential aspect of the crusades, as military exercises rooted in Christian love,9 it is hard to avoid the conclusion that they were in fact born of intolerance, a failure or unwillingness to understand an unfamiliar culture. To view the attitude of crusaders towards Islam as one of mere indifference or ignorance does not do justice to the deliberate act of intellectual rejection that underlies it. Along with a sense of the fundamental rightness of Western Christendom, there developed a corresponding rejection of anything not sheltered under its tents. Radulfus’s diction emphasizes this point: Heraclius searched for aid in ‘Western lands’ dressed in ways that no one in the ‘Western world’ would dare.10 This process of cultural estrangement between East and West had begun much earlier, originating, as suggested above, in the events of the First Crusade and in the expectations raised by its successful conclusion. I have now argued at some length in print that the First Crusade was, from the perspective of twelfth-century clerics, pilgrims, and warriors, an apocalyptic event.11 In doing so, I am using the word ‘apocalyptic’ in its most technical and precise sense. The battle for Jerusalem looked very much like the battle of Armageddon as described in Revelation and in more popular, less canonical texts such as the Revelations of Pseudo-Methodius and in Adso of Montier-en-Der’s Life of Antichrist. And in many circles these apocalyptic expectations proved 8 Tolerance and Intolerance, xiii. 9 J. Riley-Smith, ‘Crusading as an Act of Love’, History, 65 (1980), 177–92, which might be tempered by S.A. Throop, Crusading as an Act of Vengeance (Burlington, 2011). 10 See n.1 above and R. Niger, De re militari, 194 (iii.83), ‘occidui orbis’. 11 J. Rubenstein, Armies of Heaven: the First Crusade and the quest for apocalypse (New York, 2011).

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surprisingly durable, lasting well beyond the immediate failure of Christ to appear at Jerusalem. About fifteen years after the crusade, for example, the canon Lambert of Saint-Omer began crafting his encyclopedic Liber floridus around the idea that the success of the First Crusade portended the beginning, if not the culmination, of the Last Days.12 The key event for him was the moment when – as Lambert erroneously believed – his own lord, Count Robert of Flanders, crowned Godfrey of Bouillon as the first Christian king of Jerusalem. In a society steeped in prophetic traditions, where the apocalypse would entail the arrival of a Christian ruler in Jerusalem and a subsequent great war between Christian and anti-Christian armies, the First Crusade would have seemed uncannily close to eschatological expectations.13 If the Franks’ conquest of Jerusalem had not, in fact, marked the end of history, it had at least set the stage for its climax. The apocalyptic atmosphere of the crusade resulted not just from its setting, but also from the perception of its enemy. ‘Saracen’ was a well-known name, but a dimly understood one. A few crusaders would have encountered Muslims before 1095, but we have no reason to think that any of them knew the most fundamental things about Islamic beliefs. Among other things, they probably did not know the words Qur’an, Muslim, or Islam.14 They probably had heard something of Muhammad, though our chroniclers give us little evidence that their knowledge went beyond the parodies found in the Song of Roland or in the various satiric Lives of Muhammad. These ‘Lives’ were, in the words of John Victor Tolan, anti-hagiography.15 To assemble a biography of Muhammad, one need only think about the rules governing saints’ Lives and then do the opposite – which is precisely the methodology Adso of Montier-en-Der used to write a biography of Antichrist. Antichrist, Adso says, 12 Lambert of St. Omer, Liber floridus: codex autographus Bibliotheca Universitatis Gandavensis, ed. A. Derolez and I. Strubbe (Ghent, 1968). See also A. Derolez, The Autograph Manuscript of the Liber floridus: a key to the encyclopedia of Lambert of Saint-Omer, Corpus Christianorum Autographa Medii Aeui, 4 (Turnhout, 1998). 13 D. Verhelst, ‘Les textes eschatologiques dans le Liber floridus’, in Use and Abuse of Eschatology in the Middle Ages, ed. W. Verbeke et al. (Louvain, 1988), 299–305; P.C. Mayo, ‘The Crusaders under the Palm: allegorical plants and cosmic kingship in the Liber floridus’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 27 (1973), 31–67; and J. Rubenstein, ‘Lambert of Saint-Omer and the Apocalyptic First Crusade’, in Crusade and Memory: myth, image, and identity, ed. N. Paul and S.M. Yeager (Baltimore MD, 2011), 69–95. 14 The best recent examination of Western understanding of Islam during the crusade era is J.V. Tolan, Saracens: Islam in the medieval European imagination (New York, 2002). Also, N. Daniel, Heroes and Saracens: an interpretation of the Chansons de Geste (Edinburgh, 1984). 15 J.V. Tolan, ‘Anti-Hagiography: Embrico of Mainz’s Vita Mahumeti’, Journal of Medieval History, 22 (1996), 25–41.

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‘will be and do the opposite of Christ in all things’.16 Whether of Antichrist or Saracen, the same interpretive structures helped explain each figure. This belief in the fundamentally adversarial, anti-Christian – which is to say demonic – character of Saracens helps to explain how the Latin crusaders could justify the massacres of at least three cities full of them: Antioch, Ma‘arra, and Jerusalem. Saracens were limbs of demons, according to the erudite and urbane chronicler Baudry of Bourgueil, who elsewhere says that in the crusaders’ eyes, ‘All those pilgrims considered Saracens, Jews, and heretics all equally detestable, all of them they called “enemies of God”’.17 The massacre of such a people, in fact, demanded not an explanation but celebration, and in song such as the following one, written by an unnamed crusade preacher who was perhaps a participant in the battle: Streams of blood flow All around Jerusalem While the people of error die. Rejoice, Jerusalem! The pavement around the Temple Has been made all bloody With the blood of the dying. Rejoice, Jerusalem! They have been handed over to fire, The good-hearted celebrate, Because the wicked die. Rejoice, Jerusalem!18

It has become a commonplace in recent historiography to downplay the violence in these battles – particularly in Jerusalem. Muslim casualties may 16 Adso Dervensis, De ortu et tempore Antichristi, ed. D. Verhelst, CCCM, 45 (Turnhout, 1976), ‘Christo in cunctis contrarius erit et Christo contraria faciet’, 22. 17 Baudry de Bourgueil [or Baldric of Dol], Historia Jerosolimitana, i.17, ‘Sarracenos aequaliter habent exosos, quos omnes appellant inimicos Dei’; RHC Oc., iv, 23. The ‘limbs’ passage occurs at Baudry, Historia, iv.13, RHC Oc., iv, 101. 18 ‘Unknown Account’, 657: ‘Riui fluunt cruoris, | Iherusalem in oris | dum perit gens erroris. | Iherusalem, exulta! | Et templi pauimentum | efficitur cruentum | curore moriuentum. | Iherusalem, exulta! | Ipsi traduntur igni, | uos gaudete, benigni, | nam pereunt maligni. | Iherusalem, exulta!’. Ralph of Caen, Gesta Tancredi, 134; RHC Oc., iii, 699, provides a similarly themed poetic celebration of the slaughter.

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have been as low as 3000, goes the most recent iteration of this argument – though that figure, as Kedar has observed, ‘is by no means negligible. It still exceeds that of the victims of 11 September 2011 and it pertains not to a multimillion megalopolis but to a town of about 20,000–30,000 inhabitants’.19 No one has fought harder to normalize the bloodshed of the crusade than John France,20 who suggests that its great battles were no different than previous ones, particularly the battle of Melitene (which, as Kedar has pointed out, resulted more in mass slavery than in mass killing). France argues that there were so many survivors at Jerusalem that they founded a Damascene suburb – in support of which he cites Amin Maalouf’s ‘true life novel’, The Crusades Through Arab Eyes, usually not regarded as a potable source of anecdote among crusade historians (not to mention that the suburb in question, alSalihiyya, again according to Kedar, was founded in 1161). France posits that there were many Jewish survivors as well, citing evidence from the Geniza documents, which in fact, in context, state that some refugees did escape, but that Jerusalem’s Jewish community was almost entirely eradicated.21 Given the intellectual and evidentiary contortions necessary to argue on behalf of the First Crusade’s normality, I find it easier to side with the participants, eyewitnesses, and contemporary chroniclers, who uniformly proclaimed that its battles were unlike any previously experienced by western warriors. Indeed, these massacres were, to borrow a phrase from Philippe Buc, ‘sublime’.22 Second-generation chroniclers did not try to contextualize or rationalize the violence; rather, they tried to elevate it, taking ankle deep streams of blood and raising them into torrents that carried severed limbs and mangled torsos down Jerusalem’s streets in gushing currents of gore.23 It is likely that many of the crusaders, before 1095, had never visited cities on a scale of the ones they encountered in the East, let alone entered them and killed everyone in sight, with a cold savagery 19 B.Z. Kedar, ‘The Jerusalem Massacres of July 1099 in the Western Historiography of the Crusades’, Crusades, 3 (2004), 15–76 (74). 20 J. France, Victory in the East: a military history of the First Crusade (Cambridge, 1994), 355–6, esp. n. 65. 21 Kedar, ‘The Jerusalem Massacre’, 67–8 (where Kedar also disputes the applicability of France’s comparison of the sack of Mantes in 1087 to the sack of Jerusalem); A. Maalouf, The Crusades Through Arab Eyes, trans. J. Rothschild (New York, 1985), xiv–xv (cited by France as iii) and xi (for the expression ‘true-life novel’). Kedar attributes the error to René Grousset’s monumental history of the crusades, although France only cites Maalouf to support his point. 22 P. Buc, ‘Martyrdom in the West: vengeance, purge, salvation and history’, in Resonances: Historical Essays on Continuity and Change, ed. N. Holger Petersen et al. (Turnhout, 2011), 21–56 (44). 23 The most spectacular example of this tendency is in Robert the Monk, The Historia Iherosolimitana of Robert the Monk, ed. D. Kempf and M.G. Bull (Woodbridge, 2012), 99–100.

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best captured in an off-colour joke about the final battle for Antioch by the chronicler and crusader, Fulcher of Chartres: ‘In regard to the Saracen women found in the tents of the enemy, the Franks did them no evil, but only drove lances into their bellies’.24 But Fulcher’s attitude changed with time. He never reached the type of critical and historical objectivity characteristic of that later Frankish writer William of Tyre.25 But upon settling in Jerusalem, Fulcher did, necessarily, become accustomed to the norms of Middle Eastern life, especially when serving Christian monarchs who unavoidably carried out regular business with Muslim rulers. It is to Fulcher that we owe the famous passage about Latin assimilation into the Levantine world: I ask you to consider and think in your mind how in our time God has moved the West to the East. For we who were Westerners have become Easterners. He who was a Roman or a Frank has in this land become a Galilean or a Palestinian. He who was of Reims or Chartres has now become a man of Tyre or Antioch … Those who were poor there, God makes rich here. Those who had a few pennies there have countless bezants here, and those who did not have a farm there possess here by the gift of God a city. Why then would one return to the West when he has found an East like this?26

It may not have been the heavenly city the crusaders had imagined they would find at the centre of the world, but it was a wondrously wealthy and pleasant place nonetheless. Fulcher developed enough familiarity with real Muslims to feel comfortable using a fictional one as a literary, moral foil. When describing the build up to a battle in 1119, he tells how a Turkish knight boasted to a Frankish warrior that the Muslims would soon be victorious: ‘Indeed’, the Turk said, ‘Your God has abandoned you seeing that you do not keep your law as you 24 Fulcher of Chartres, Historia Hierosolymitana (1095-1127), ed. H. Hagenmeyer (Heidelberg, 1913), 257 (i.23.5), ‘mulieribus in tentorris eorum inventis, nihil aliud mali eis Franci fecerunt, excepto quod lanceas in ventres suas earum infixerunt’. 25 R.C. Schwinges, ‘William of Tyre, the Muslim Enemy, and the Problem of Tolerance’, in Tolerance and Intolerance, 124–32. 26 Fulcher, Historia, 748–9 (iii.37.2–3 and 6–7): ‘Considera, quaeso, et mente cogita, quomodo tempore nostro transvertit Deus Occidentem in Orientem. Nam qui fuimus Occidentales, nunc facti sumus Orientales. Qui fuit Romanus aut Francus, hac in terra factus est Galilaeus aut Palestinus. Qui fuit Remensis aut Carnotensis, nunc efficitur Tyrius vel Antiochenus … qui enim illic erant inopes, hic facit Deus eos locupletes. Qui habuerant nummos paucos, hic possident bisantios innumeros, et qui non habuerat villam, hic Deo dante iam possidet urbem’.

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should, nor preserve faith and truth among yourselves. We know this, we have learned this and take note of it. Tomorrow without doubt, we will conquer you and we will triumph’.27 The Saracen was wrong about the battle’s outcome, but Fulcher still exclaims: ‘Oh! What a great shame to Christians that the faithless reproach us about our faith! For this reason we ought to be exceedingly ashamed and by being tearful and penitent correct our errors’.28 This more empathetic outlook towards the servants of Antichrist likely results from the political situation in which crusader Outremer found itself. The Franks may have dreamed in 1098, in a letter written to Pope Urban II, of not only wiping out the ‘Turks and pagans’, but of taking care of ‘the heretics as well – Greek, Armenian, Syrian, and Jacobite’.29 But the survival of the Frankish states did not allow for such moral extremes, and by 1108 at the Battle of Tel Bashir, confessional loyalties had become so crossed that Frankish Edessa and Turkish Mosul had joined forces against Frankish Antioch and Turkish Aleppo. Baldwin also counted among his supporters the Armenian leader Kogh Vasil (who on earlier occasions had been known to fight alongside Bohemond and Tancred).30 Baldwin I, king of Jerusalem, must get some credit for these political transformations. It was Baldwin who had established the first Crusader State at Edessa, artfully negotiating the intricacies of Armenian, Byzantine, and Turkish politics in order to place himself at the head of a government that under his leadership remained fundamentally Eastern in character.31 Stories of Baldwin’s tendency to go native travelled back to Europe and reached even the ears of Guibert of Nogent, who described his rule in Edessa thus: He conducted himself with such splendour in his duchy that, wherever he went, he had a golden shield carried before him with an eagle carved into it after the fashion of the Greeks. Following the custom of the Gentiles, he walked about here and there clad in a toga, let his beard grow long, received bows from those who reverenced him, dined on carpets spread on 27 Fulcher, Historia, 628 (iii.4.4): ‘immo Deus vester vos dereliquit, videns vos nec legem vestram, ut solebatis, tenere nec fidem nec veritatem invicem servare. Hoc scimus, hoc didicimus, hoc advertimus. Cras proculdubio vos vincemus et superabimus’. 28 Fulcher, Historia, 628–9 (iii.4.4): ‘O quantum dedecus Christianis, cum perfidi de fide nos reprehendunt! Unde deberemus vehementer erubescere et peccata nostra plorando paenitentes emendare’. 29 Die Kreuzzugsbriefe aus den Jahren 1088–1100, ed. H. Hagenmeyer (Innsbruck, 1901), 164 (ep. 16): ‘Turcos et paganos … haereticos autem, Graecos et Armenos, Syros Iacobitasque’. 30 MacEvitt, Rough Tolerance, 86. 31 MacEvitt, Rough Tolerance, 74, notes that it was under Baldwin’s nephew and successor that Edessa became ‘recognizably Frankish’.

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the ground, and when about to enter any town or city under his authority, two knights sounded identical trumpets at his chariot’s approach.32

Guibert was willing to give Baldwin the benefit of the doubt, still hoping for signs of world empire in Jerusalem’s kings, since he observes that Baldwin, upon his arrival in Jerusalem, felt fully justified in ‘receiving the purple’33 – purple being the colour of empire, not of a simple kingdom whose last ruler had felt uneasy at the thought of a crown. But Baldwin was less interested in manipulating prophecy and more comfortable when engaged in hardnosed political negotiation. Most famously, he struck an agreement with the Genoese, stipulating that as long as they maintained a military and mercantile presence in the East, they would be entitled to one third of the revenues from any city that they helped conquer – a privilege he granted because Genoa had supported him during his turbulent accession to the throne. In order to make the gift more durable, according to the Genoese writer Caffaro, the king had it written in golden letters above the apse leading directly into the Holy Sepulchre.34 One cannot help but feel a certain admiration for the bravura with which Baldwin manipulated to political advantage no less a symbol than the tomb of Christ, whose liberation was the cause of the First Crusade.35 Baldwin appears to have been equally unapologetic about his habit of integrating Eastern Christians and of Muslims into his inner circle. Among these exotic courtiers Albert of Aachen mentions a certain ‘Mahumeth’, who campaigned with the king in 1105 accompanied by one hundred Turkish archers. Mahumeth, driven from Damascus because of greed and unseemly ambition, now offered his services to the Franks, in the hopes that Jerusalem might support his efforts to take over Damascus.36 An ally of Jerusalem in 1105, 32 Guibert de Nogent, Dei gesta per Francos, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, CCCM, 127A (Turnhout, 1996), 338–9 (vii.39), ‘Qui quidem in ducatu eo splendore se habuit, ut clipeum aureum, quovis iter agens, pre se ferri faceret, qui aquilam expressam in se haberet – erat autem scematis Argolici. Morem enim gentilibus gerens huc usque togatus incesserat, barbam remiserat, sese adorantibus flectebatur, solo stratis tapetibus vescebatur –, at si quod municipium vel urbem suae ditionis intraret, ante eius grandientis vehiculum duorum ore equitum gemina tuba perstreperet’. 33 Guibert, Dei gesta, 339 (vii.39), ‘de recipienda purpura’. 34 Caffaro, De liberatione civitatum orientis, 11 and 26, RHC Oc., v, 59 (and n. c) and 72. See also M. Biddle, The Tomb of Christ (Stroud, 1999), 63, figure 63B, and comments on 90–1 and 95–6. 35 See the discussion in S. Schein, Gateway to the Heavenly City: Crusader Jerusalem and the Catholic West (1099–1187) (Burlington VT, 2005), which argues that the focus of the crusade movement shifted in the twelfth century from the Holy Sepulchre to the True Cross. 36 Albert of Aachen, Historia Ierosolimitana = History of the Journey to Jerusalem, ed. and trans. S.B. Edgington (Oxford, 2007), 706–7 (ix.48). Edgington identif ies Mahumeth in her note as

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it is possible that this same Mahumeth had been one of the Damascenes who previously had tried twice to ambush and kill Baldwin, the first time on return to Edessa from Jerusalem after his Christmas pilgrimage in 1099 and again on his journey back to Jerusalem a few months later to become king.37 This latter attack Baldwin survived only because he had received advance warning from Muslim allies in Tripoli. The Frankish king’s survival, political and physical, depended to a degree on the success with which he cultivated alliances with Turks. From a distance of about two thousand miles it might be possible to imagine Baldwin I nurturing a degree of crusading idealism. To those who knew him and his court, it would have been difficult to maintain the illusion.38 This respect for Easterners and their culture would have further deepened in 1103, because after that point Baldwin owed them his life.39 Guibert tells this story almost by accident, reminded of it after describing how Godfrey had once survived a bear attack. ‘But now that we have talked about one bear, I’d like to spend some time on something else done by [Godfrey’s] brother Baldwin, who still reigns as king of Jerusalem, since no more fitting place is likely to appear’. 40 While trying to protect a foot soldier, Guibert says, Baldwin suffered a grave wound, probably hit in the back with a lance or an arrow. He fell to the ground and his followers at first thought him dead. He was alive, but only just, so they carried him back to Jerusalem where doctors began to examine his wounds. 41 At first, they considered covering the major wound with poultices, but then realized that the damage likely went much deeper. They risked curing his cuts and gashes but leaving the Bektash ibn Tutush, brother of Duqaq of Damascus, who died in 1104 (707, n. 89). 37 Fulcher, Historia, 341–2 (i.34.6) and 355–7 (ii.1.5). 38 William of Tyre, Chronicon, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, CCCM, 63, 63a (Turnhout, 1986), 518 (xi.14), reports that Baldwin also had as a close companion (they shared trips to the latrine) a converted Saracen, whom he had baptized and named Baldwin. This second Baldwin planned to assassinate his royal namesake during the siege of Sidon. When the plot was exposed, the convert was hanged, leading to some modern speculation that the two were lovers: C. Tyerman, God’s War: a new history of the crusades (Cambridge MA, 2006), 202. 39 Guibert, Dei gesta, 287–8 (vii.13). Fulcher and Albert make oblique reference to the incident, but neither goes into the same detail as Guibert (nor mentions the bear): Fulcher, Historia, 460–1 (ii.24) and n. 3; Albert, Historia, 664–7 (ix.22). The best treatment of this incident is R. Hiestand, ‘König Balduin und sein Tanzbär’, Archiv für Kulturgeschichte, 70 (1988), 343–60. 40 Guibert, Dei gesta, 287 (vii.13), ‘At quia ursum semel adorsi sumus, quid Balduinus etiam, eius frater qui nunc usque Iherosolimae regnat, egerit preoccupare voluimus, quia nullus id referendi forsitan sese alias aptior aperiet locus’. The story about Godfrey and the bear is Guibert, Dei gesta, 285–7 (iii.12). 41 Guibert has very little to say about the wound itself. Most of the details come from Albert and Fulcher, as cited above; on the nature of the wound see also Hiestand, ‘König Balduin’, 346–9.

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deadlier internal injuries to fester. At the same time, they lacked sufficient information about the wound to know how to proceed. Surgery in the twelfth century was a risky proposition at best, but these doctors hit upon an ingenious plan. They would take a Saracen prisoner and injure him in exactly the same way that the weapon had hurt Baldwin. They would then kill the prisoner, cut open his body, study his internal organs, and in this way learn how best to treat the king’s wounds. But even on the verge of death, Baldwin condemned their proposal, appealing, Guibert says, to the example of the Emperor Constantine. According to legend, enshrined in the Donation of Constantine, the emperor was once afflicted with leprosy. After physicians failed to cure him, pagan priests advised him to bathe in a tub filled with the blood of infants. The emperor’s better instincts prevailed against this advice, and eventually he received miraculous healing at the hands of Pope Sylvester.42 To save Baldwin’s life, no man should perish – not even an unbeliever. 43 Foreseeing this reaction, the doctors had a backup plan at the ready: ‘If’, one of them said, ‘for the sake of recovering your health you have decided that no man’s life ought to end, then at least command that the bear be handed over – it’s a fairly useless animal, whose only purpose is to entertain. Command it to be hung up by its front paws and stood erect and then struck with a sword. Once I examine the entrails of the dead beast, then I can measure with some accuracy how deep the weapon went and thus how great your wound is’. To which the king said, ‘Because it is necessary, let the beast be brought here without delay. Consider it done’. 44

The doctors then carried out the experiment and performed surgery on the king based on what they had observed in the bear. It was a success. Baldwin lived another fifteen years, until the same wound burst open again during a campaign in Egypt. 45 42 The Donation of Constantine is recently published as an appendix to Lorenzo Valla, On the Donation of Constantine, trans. G.W. Bowersock (Cambridge MA, 2007), 162–83 (esp. 166–70). 43 Guibert, Dei gesta, 287 (vii.13), and Hiestand, 345, n. 11. Huygens suggests (in the notes to lines 567–8) that Guibert also had in mind elements of the Theodosian Code. 44 Guibert, Dei gesta, 287–8 (vii.13), ‘“Si”, inquit, “reparandae tibi gratia sospitatis nemini vitam adimere def inisti, saltem ursum, inutilem satis nisi spectaculo bestiam, admoveri manda, prioribus pedibus in sublime porrectis erectam ferro feriri impera, cuius peremptae postmodum cum pervidero viscera, metiri sana utcumque potero quorsum intro processerit, quantum quoaque, lesio tua”. Cui rex: “Bestia”, ait, “non in mora cum opus fuerit, erit: factum puta”’. 45 Hiestand, ‘König Balduin’, 347–8.

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The story of the bear fascinates on many levels, not least because it is, as Rudolf Hiestand has observed, one of the earliest recorded examples of animal experimentation for purposes of medical science (if not the earliest one). It is also an indication of how thoroughly integrated into Eastern culture Baldwin had become. If we cannot identify the doctors by name, we can presume that they were not Franks. It also is unlikely that they were Muslims. They may have been Greeks, but more probably they were Syrian Christians. 46 It is no mystery why Baldwin would have entrusted his care to foreigners. Among Eastern observers Frankish medicine was a byword for death. The Arab-Syrian writer Usama ibn Munqidh – in a series of what are, essentially, ethnic Frank jokes – used horror stories about a particular European surgeon to great comic effect. This doctor unnecessarily amputated one knight’s leg to cure an abscess and another time carved a cross into a woman’s head and rubbed salt into the wound to cure her of a mental disorder, on both occasions over the objections of an Eastern physician.47 Both patients died. If Baldwin wished to live long in the Frankish settlements, part of his regimen necessarily included locally trained physicians. As king, therefore, Baldwin adopted the dress, manner, and dining habits of a Syrian warlord, just as he surrounded himself with schismatic Christians, Turkish military advisers, and Syrian doctors, and just as he named his horse ‘Gazelle’ because of its great speed, a word borrowed from Arabic. 48 Long before Heraclius went on his – in the eyes of Radulfus Niger – foolhardy, offensive, and counterproductive tour of Europe, the leaders of Outremer had begun to shed their identity as Latin holy warriors caught up in an apocalyptic struggle and were settling into the somewhat uncomfortable role as perpetual pilgrims in a hostile, volatile frontier land. In Europe, one could still imagine the Frankish settlers as penitent soldiers, pluckily defending the inheritance of Christ against armies of chaos. Belief in this idea could be poignant in its simplicity. Consider, for example, this story that tended to circulate with copies of Guibert’s crusade 46 Hiestand, ‘König Balduin’, 354, suggests they were likely Jacobites. 47 An Arab-Syrian Gentleman and Warrior in the Period of the Crusades: memoirs of Usamah Ibn-Munqidh, trans. P.K. Hitti (Princeton NJ, 1929, repr. 1987), 162 and more generally 161–70. The competent Eastern doctor who objects to the Frank’s methods seems to have been a Syrian Christian. Usama does express admiration for the Frank’s ability to work with ointments. 48 Albert notes that the name is from the Saracen language: Historia, 578–9 (vii.67); mentioned also at 642–3 (ix.5). The chronicle usually attributed to Bartolph de Nangis mentions the name and the meaning, but not the Arabic etymology: Gesta Francorum Iherusalem expugnantium, 58, in RHC Oc., iii, 534.

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chronicle. 49 In 1112, the amir of Ascalon asked for a two-year truce with the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Impressed by all of the building projects going on in the Holy City, he proposed that Egyptian merchants be allowed to set up shop inside the walls. The Christians did not entirely trust the proposition and sent as a spy a Saracen youth named Mathomos – Guibert’s spelling of Muhammad – whom they had raised from childhood and had baptized. Mathomos infiltrated the merchant camp and discovered that the Saracens had, indeed, filled their sacks not with the riches of the East but with weapons, and that they intended to massacre the Christians and take over the city. The Franks responded aggressively: they ambushed the merchants, used the Saracens’ weapons against them, and as a result gained unbelievable plunder. The story concludes, ‘Christ sent confusion to his enemies and victory to his followers, because he wished to cast the former into the trap they themselves had set, and to save the latter from the dangers they had not deserved’.50 It is a simple tale of a prosperous Christian kingdom in Jerusalem, whose leaders employed cunning tricks, but only in response to an enemy’s treachery; and it is the story of a Jerusalem that maintains its religiosity with a near monastic purity – its citizens tempted by the riches of the enemy, but ultimately able to shun them. ‘And does [God] not protect today’, Guibert asks elsewhere, ‘those whom he preserved as a war band in exile surrounded by Gentiles? Daily with bold arms they harry the nations who surround them, and for those nations it is all they can do to defend themselves from invasion, not daring themselves to undertake an attack’.51 Settlers in the East, like Fulcher of Chartres, might learn to accept this new reality, but they did not need to like it. Fulcher’s displeasure with it bleeds through his text, revealing itself both in the final chapters of his book and in the revisions that he made to earlier drafts of it. For example, in an entirely new chapter inserted into the second major revision of his history, published sometime after Baldwin I’s death in 1118, Fulcher describes a major 49 ‘Un épisode de la lutte entre Baudouin Ier et les habitants d’Ascalon’, printed as Appendix I in Huygens’s edition of Guibert, Dei gesta, 355–60. It survives in four manuscripts; see Huygens’s introductory comment at 68–9. It is marginally possible that Guibert himself added the story, though unlikely, since it does not utilize any of his usual literary pyrotechnics. 50 ‘Hanc suis Christus inimicis confusionem, hanc suis fidelibus contulit victoriam, cum et illos eicere voluit in laqueum quem tetenderant et hos a malis conservare quae non promeruerant’: ‘Un épisode’, in Guibert, Dei gesta, 360. 51 Guibert, Dei gesta, 306 (vii.21), ‘Et numquid non hodieque protegit quos, cuneum nimis exilem, in meditullio gentilitatis infinitae defendit? Audacibus cotidie gentes contiguas armis irritant et ipsis satis est gentibus, si se ab eorum incursione premuniant, nedum obsidere presumant’. The context is a commentary on the prophetic implications, for the crusade, of Zechariah 12: 8, ‘On that day the Lord will protect the inhabitants of Jerusalem’.

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battle fought between the Christians of Antioch and Edessa against a broad collation of Turkish warriors.52 The battle went badly for the Christians, and Fulcher blames two familiar enemies: discord and envy.53 Mutual suspicions and hatred threatened to tear the army apart, although a few admirable exceptions remained. One knight, for example, with unusual daring freed the archbishop of Edessa from a Saracen prison. In Fulcher’s eyes, however, such heroism was the exception, a reminder of how things used to be. The thought causes him to remember an incident from the original siege at Antioch. There was one person, as a few of us saw and heard, when we were at Antioch who, when he heard a wicked man shamefully blaspheme the Lord’s name, driven by a lively spirit argued back by word and deed. At once spurring on his horse, he said eagerly to those standing nearby, ‘If any of you wishes to dine in Paradise, let him come with me now and let him eat! For I will soon be there’. With his lance out he plunged in the midst of a thousand enemies, lifting the lance and killing the first one to come before him. Although killing, he himself was killed. And so, supported by faith and hope and armed with charity, he died happily.54

In the context of the First Crusade, it is a fairly unremarkable story, though by the year 1118 it struck Fulcher as both marvellous and precious. ‘Who ever heard of such a thing?’ he asks.55 What had so spoiled the Franks in Fulcher’s eyes? On one level, his criticisms seem unjustified. At the time he laid down his pen, the Frankish settlements were still expanding. His narrative remained one of regular Christian advances and of a Saracen foe in steady retreat. But something was not right. Perhaps it stemmed from Baldwin I’s easy adaptation to Eastern 52 Fulcher, Historia, 468–77 (ii.27), and see Hagenmeyer’s note about the manuscript tradition, 468, n. a. It was one of three new chapters added to the original text, covering events from 1104–8, creating some chronological awkwardness. 53 Fulcher, Historia, 475 (ii.27.7). 54 Fulcher, Historia, 476–7 (ii.27.11–12): ‘Sicut quidam, aliquibus de nostris audientibus et videntibus, dum eramus apud Antiochiam, cum audiret nomen Domini a quodam perf ido cum magna dehonestatione blasphemari, vivifico spiritu animatus dicto contradixit et facto. Et continuo calcaribus equum pungens, adsistentibus in circo vivacissime interrogando intulit: si quis vestrum in Paradis cenare desiderat nunc mecum veniat et mecum prandeat. Iam iam enim abibo. Mox lancea vibrata inter hostium milia se inserens, primum sibi obvium subruens interemit, licet interimens ilico interimeretur. Itaque f ide circumfultus et spe, munitusque caritate, feliciter occubuit’. 55 Fulcher, Historia, 477 (ii.27.12), ‘Quis unquam audivit tale?’.

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ways. Perhaps it was the continual alliances he struck with Muslims and with decidedly non-Latin Christians. Perhaps it was the king’s apparent decision to decorate the entry to the Holy Sepulchre with a glittering contract struck with Genoese merchants and mercenaries (a decision Fulcher himself does not mention). Perhaps it was the breezy way that Baldwin kept company with Armenian clerics and Muslim advisers. Perhaps it had nothing at all to do with Baldwin but grew instead out of the increasing level of interaction between Christians and Muslims,56 or else out of the repeated failure of either Christ or Antichrist to appear on the historical stage. For whatever reason, by the 1120s – even as Lambert of Saint-Omer, Guibert of Nogent, and others in Europe still looked expectantly and reverentially towards the East, hoping for the end of history – Fulcher’s crusade had soured. Unable to achieve the level of objectivity attained by William of Tyre, or even the willingness to ignore or overlook the thousands of moments of cooperation and interaction between Eastern and Western cultures that must have typified daily life in the Levant – the modus vivendi that Christopher MacEvitt has characterized as ‘rough tolerance’57 – Fulcher preferred to reject altogether the culture that his crusade had helped to create. Still, his chronicle had begun as a triumphant narrative, and he valiantly struggled to maintain that tone. In one of the final chapters, he celebrated the wonders and riches of the Levant in words intended to entice future settlers. As mentioned already, Fulcher provides us with our most famous expression of Latin integration into the Holy Land: ‘Why then would one return to the West when he has found an East like this?’ Less well remembered is the way Fulcher concludes his book just a few pages later, with a brief notice about a plague of rats. His final line: ‘The area remained badly infested by the stench of their dead bodies’.58 While Westerners might continue to celebrate the Holy Land as a Christian frontier, built on virtue, destiny, and living prophecy, in the East, and to the refined sensibilities of a cleric like Fulcher, paradise had started to rot. About the author: Jay Rubenstein, University of Tennessee

56 See Powell’s comments in Powell, Muslims, 185–90. 57 See esp. the comments in MacEvitt, Rough Tolerance, 21. 58 Fulcher, Historia, 823 (iii.62), ‘de quorum putore cadaverum regio illa remansit valde infirma’.

5.

Pisan Migration Patterns along Twelfth Century Eastern Mediterranean Trade Routes Matthew E. Parker

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch05 Abstract Over the course of the later twelfth century Pisan merchants came to dominate the Levantine Sea. The rise was sparked by developing commercial activity in Alexandria, often dealing in forbidden war materials. As the Tuscans prospered and adapted to the fluid political situations they encountered, their numbers grew apace with their influence. This article examines the trade and migration patterns of Pisan merchants in the eastern Mediterranean during the twelfth century utilizing a holistic approach, relying on the extant cartulary record to illuminate how events in the major eastern ports affected the others. Though Pisa’s situation at times seemed perilous, shrewd exploitation of fortuitous circumstances propelled her to the height of her power by the turn of the century. Keywords: Pisa, crusade, Levant, migration, trade, Egypt

In the opening paragraph of his first major published work, James Powell stated that ‘the late twelfth and first half of the thirteenth centuries mark a significant turning point in the economic development of the [Kingdom of Sicily]’.1 Although Powell was discussing the squandering of the economic potential of Southern Italy under its Norman and Swabian rulers, he made clear that this potential stemmed from the exceptionally diverse, international character of the Sicilian ports and the pan-Mediterranean network established by the Amalfitans. Powell’s ability to approach topics 1 J.M. Powell, ‘Medieval Monarchy and Trade: the economic policy of Frederick II in the kingdom of Sicily’, Studi Medievali, 3, no. 2 (1962), 420–524, at 420.

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utilizing a broad perspective was the hallmark of his most influential works. The present study seeks to emulate Powell’s knack for wide consideration. Instead of looking at an Italian society which had wasted its economic potential, this work examines a contemporaneous Italian society that seized upon eastern Mediterranean opportunities and in so doing approached the zenith of its power and influence: the commune of Pisa. The presence of Pisan merchants in the various ports of the eastern Mediterranean in the twelfth century is hardly a secret, despite the relatively little scholarly attention they have garnered in comparison to their Genoese and Venetian rivals. Ralph Johannes Lilie’s Handel und Politik (1984) is a landmark work on the interactions between the maritime communes and the Byzantine Empire of the twelfth century. Similarly, Marie-Luise Favreau-Lilie’s Die Italiener im Heiligen Land (1989) serves as a Latin Kingdom equivalent to her husband’s work. Additionally, Michel Balard has written numerous articles on Italians in the Holy Land and the prolific David Jacoby has done so for the Levant, Constantinople, and even Egypt. As important as these works are, there has never been a holistic approach to Italian merchant activity for this period. This study strives to fill this gap by examining how developments in each eastern Mediterranean region affected the Pisan situation in the others. No city is an island immune to the outside world; it is only through consideration of external forces that a clearer picture of the later twelfth century appears. The task at hand is not an easy one, as Pisa’s documentary record for this period is notoriously scant, though there are a few avenues open to the determined scholar. Giuseppe Müller published the majority of the extant charters pertaining to Italians in the Greek and Latin East in his Documenti sulle relazioni delle città Toscane coll’Oriente cristiano e coi Turchi (1879). Similarly, Michele Amari collected Arab documents from the Archivio di Stato di Firenze in I diplomi arabi del Regio Archivio Fiorentino (1863). Of the crusader histories, Ambroise’s Estoire de la guerre sainte, Richard de Templo’s Itinerarium peregrinorum et gesta regis Ricardi, Roger of Howden’s Chronica, as well as the works of William of Tyre and his continuators are the most fruitful sources for information on Pisa’s involvement. The Pisan Bernardo Maragone’s Gli annales Pisani is also invaluable in this respect. Lamentably, there are no extant commercial records. By piecing together a chronology from the literary and political sources, it has been possible to deconstruct the charters that granted privileges to Pisa to reveal the preconditions behind them, the growing military, commercial, and financial strength of Pisa in each region, and even the migration patterns of her expatriates. This investigation extends to the eve of the Fourth Crusade,

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after which the cartulary record worsens and thus provides a natural limit for this study. After the success of the Balearic Crusade in 1115, Pisa was at the head of the charge to gain mastery of the western Mediterranean, though Genoa was fast on its heels.2 Yet at the same time Pisa was lagging severely behind its Italian rivals in the eastern Mediterranean. Venice and Amalfi had long enjoyed commercial privileges in Constantinople while Genoa, and to a lesser extent Venice, had a strong commercial presence in the Holy Land after 1099. After sending an initial fleet to the Holy Land in 1099, Pisa abandoned its eastern commercial interests in favour of funnelling its resources into wars against Genoa, Lucca, the Normans, and the Muslim pirates of Majorca in order to better secure access to natural resources and to protect shipping lanes closer to home. Consequently, Pisans found themselves without a major Eastern hub over thirty years after the First Crusade. It was only natural for them to pursue aggressively their commercial interests in the sole remaining entrepôt in the region: Alexandria. Although all four Italian states had a presence in Alexandria, none had secured any commercial privileges. Genoa and Venice were focusing their attentions elsewhere, offering Pisans a perfect opportunity to step in. But the choice of Alexandria was not without its dangers: supplying the enemy of the Christian faith could have serious repercussions. As it turned out, the investment in Alexandria initiated half a century of rapid commercial and population growth for Pisans in the eastern Mediterranean as the merchants carefully navigated the vicissitudes of the twelfth century in Constantinople, Syria, and Egypt. The purpose of this essay is to reconstruct the narrative of the trade and migration patterns of Pisans in Acre, Alexandria, and Constantinople throughout the twelfth century. Despite a gradual expansion of trade in Constantinople after 1111, it was actually several decades later in Alexandria where Pisan commerce in the eastern Mediterranean first exploded and truly thrived prior to gaining a lasting foothold in Acre, transforming the city into the commercial centre of the Frankish Levant. Without the attractive terminus of Alexandria, Pisans would not have settled in significant numbers in the intermediate ports along the way. Even though western Christendom had been focused on war with the Muslim Levant for over half a century, Pisans actively sought closer economic ties with Alexandria 2 G. Scalia, ‘Contributi pisani alla lotta anti-islamica nel Mediterraneo centro-occidentale durante il secolo XI e nei primi decenni del XII’, Anuario de estudios medievales, 10 (1980), 135–43, at 138. For more on the Balearic Crusade, see M.E. Parker, ‘Pisa, Catalonia and Muslim Pirates: intercultural exchanges in the Balearic Crusade of 1113–1115’, Viator, 45 (2014), 77–100.

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and benefitted greatly by supplying the city with war materials (among more mundane goods). Before the First Crusade there were three primary overland trade routes for goods coming from the eastern hub of Hamadan (west of Tehran): one went through Baghdad, one through Antioch, and another crossed the Black Sea via Trebizond to Constantinople.3 Additionally, there were two major sea routes: one came up the Persian Gulf to Basra shifting to caravan to Baghdad and on to Damascus and Antioch while the other travelled the Red Sea towards Alexandria. 4 Because overland transportation costs were considerably higher than by sea, Alexandria offered lower prices on many goods coming from the East. The Fatimids realized their advantage and had transformed Alexandria into the most important Muslim port in the Mediterranean by encouraging trade, even with Europeans.5 Although Pisa sent a fleet of 120 ships on the First Crusade under the guidance of their archbishop, Daimbert, they received few tangible rewards for their troubles beyond the short-lived elevation of Daimbert to the patriarchate of Jerusalem.6 Despite this initial fleet the Pisans did not greatly assist in the subsequent decades of conquest, focusing instead on fighting Muslim pirates in the western Mediterranean, and, consequently, did not obtain an early foothold in the region at this time. The Venetians, however, picked their battles wisely and in 1100 Godfrey de Bouillon granted them free trade throughout the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Venice continued to enjoy these privileges, which were further augmented by the Pactum Warmundi of 1123,7 for the rest of the century with almost no alterations. Genoa, on the other hand, only received privileges in the northern Crusader States prior to 1187. Michel Balard argues that Pisan interests were centred in Tyre as a result of Baldwin II’s charter of the late 1120s.8 One could just as easily 3 G.W. Day, ‘The Impact of the Third Crusade upon Trade with the Levant’, The International History Review, 3 (1981), 159–86, at 159. 4 Day, ‘Impact of the Third Crusade’; W. Heyd, Histoire du commerce du Levant au Moyen-Âge, 2 vols (Leipzig, 1885), i, 387–94. 5 K.-H. Allmendinger, ‘Die Beziehungen Zwischen der Kommune Pisa und Ägypten im Hohen Mittelalter. Eine Rechts- und Wirtschaftshistorische Untersuchung’, Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 54 (1967), 50. 6 B. Maragone, ‘Gli Annales Pisani’ in Rerum italicarum scriptores, vol. 6.2, ed. M. Lupo Gentile (Bologna, 1936), 7. 7 M.-L. Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land vom ersten Kreuzzug bis zum Tode Heinrichs von Champagne (1098–1197) (Amsterdam, 1989), 462–5. 8 M. Balard, ‘Les républiques maritimes italiennes et le commerce en Syrie–Palestine (XIe–XIIIe siècles)’, Anuario de estudios medievales 24 (1994), 313–47, at 327. The original document is lost but the terms can be found in Documenti sulle relazioni delle città Toscane coll’Oriente cristiano

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argue that Pisans focused on Laodicea and Antioch because of Tancred’s 1108 charter or Jaffa as a result of privileges secured by Daimbert.9 However, all of these privileges were revoked shortly after they were granted, thus removing the incentives for sustained growth, so neither Antioch nor Tyre could confidently claim to be the primary locus of Pisan activity. It was in Constantinople in 1111 that Pisans received their first lasting incentives in the East with the treaty of Alexius I Comnenus.10 Alexius faced repeated Seljuk incursions and so the Pisans agreed to defend Byzantine territory and neither to harm the empire nor aid its enemies.11 In return, Alexius I issued a chrysobull the following October granting a quarter in Constantinople in front of the Neorion harbour, a tariff (kommerkion, κομμέρκιον) reduction on foreign imports from 10 per cent down to 4 per cent, and complete tax exemption on the importation of precious metals and the shuttling of goods among the islands of the Aegean.12 By comparison, Venice already possessed a much larger quarter and enjoyed free trade throughout the empire.13 The 10 per cent kommerkion on exports and domestic imports seems to have stayed in place for the entire century.14 The acquisition of a quarter and tax breaks would have provided plenty of incentive for Pisan merchants to trade more frequently with Byzantium and begin settling there to some extent. These privileges were to apply across the Aegean islands, hinting that this was the limited extent of Pisan trade in the empire at this time.15 Alexius’s son, John II, confirmed the privileges without alterations in 1136. This was a slow start to infiltration of the Levant, but at the least it provided Pisans with their first permanent outpost in the East. e coi turchi fino all’anno MDXXXI, ed. G. Müller (Florence, 1879), 6 no. 4. The original treaty was issued sometime between 1125 and 1131 but was revoked well before Baldwin III came to the throne in 1143. 9 Tancred’s privileges of 1108 were revoked within a few years at the most. See Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 3 no. 1. 10 The original document is lost, but the full text can be found within the chrysobull of 1192 of Isaac II Angelus. See Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 40 no. 34. 11 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 54 no. 34. 12 P. Magdalino, ‘The Maritime Neighbourhoods of Constantinople: commercial and residential functions, sixth to twelfth centuries’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 54 (2000), 209–26, at 224; W. Heywood, A History of Pisa: eleventh and twelfth centuries (Cambridge, 1921), 55. All translations are the author’s own, unless otherwise indicated. 13 R.-J. Lilie, Handel und Politik, zwischen dem byzantinischen Reich und den italienischen Kommunen Venedig: Pisa und Genua in der Epoche der Komnenen und der Angeloi (1081–1204) (Amsterdam, 1984), 8–10. Venice was granted these rights in 1082 by Alexius I. 14 D. Jacoby, ‘Italian Privileges and Trade in Byzantium before the Fourth Crusade: a reconsideration’, Anuario de estudios medievales, 24 (1994), 349–69, at 357. 15 Ibid., 357.

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Although Italians were not permitted outright ownership of property in Egypt, they were allowed the use of various facilities. During this period, Europeans travelling to and trading within Egyptian ports had restrictions placed upon their behaviour. Upon dropping anchor in Alexandria, a ship’s oars and rudders were confiscated before the merchants were ferried to the customs house.16 From here the merchants went to the fondaco where they were locked in at night with other Europeans of mixed nationality.17 It should also be noted that fondaci only housed adult males (and oftentimes prostitutes) in this period; European women were not welcome in Alexandria and so a self-sustaining colony was never officially a possibility (though policies were only intermittently strictly enforced).18 As a result of its climate and natural resources, Egypt was perpetually in need of timber and iron and Pisa was better positioned than Genoa to provide at least the latter to Egypt.19 Business must have been booming because at some point in the 1140s (or possibly earlier) there were enough Pisans in Alexandria to acquire a fondaco all to themselves, something the Venetians would not earn until 1172 and the Genoese not until after the Third Crusade.20 In 1150, according to the geographer Zuhri, Pisan ships dominated Alexandria’s harbour.21 The Pisan fondaco was briefly taken away in 1153 when eighty Italians were jailed for the alleged murder at sea of some Muslim merchants.22 The Pisan envoy Rainerio Bottaccio resolved the matter in 1154 and won multiple concessions for his compatriots on the condition they import timber, pitch, and iron — war materials — what Egypt needed to build ships and arm troops; Pisa regained its fondaco in Alexandria, acquired another one in Cairo, and received a general tariff reduction from 25 per cent to 12 per cent.23 These developments indicate that the Pisan merchant population was still growing rapidly and that trade was accelerating with Egypt. The Egyptian economic boom spilled over into the Crusader States as well. Because more merchants travelled to Alexandria each year, more 16 Allmendinger, ‘Die Beziehungen’, 88 and 91. 17 Ibid., 81. 18 D. Jacoby, ‘Les Italiens en Égypte aux XIIe et XIIIe siècles: du comptoir à la colonie?’, Coloniser au Moyen Âge, ed. M. Balard and A. Ducellier (Paris, 1995), 76–88, at 88. 19 As noted by the Arab geographer Zuhri in 1150. D. Jacoby, ‘The Supply of War Materials to Egypt in the Crusader Period’, Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam, 25 (2001), 102–32, at 106. Jacoby (108) further mentions that Genoa relied upon Pisa for its iron throughout the twelfth century. 20 Idem, ‘Les Italiens en Égypte’, 79. 21 Ibid., 77. 22 I diplomi arabi del R. Archivio Fiorentino, ed. M. Amari (Florence, 1863), 241 no. 2. 23 Ibid., 241 no. 2 and 246 no. 3. See also Allmendinger, ‘Die Beziehungen’, 50, 90, 94.

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passed through the crusader ports along the way. It was not until after Nur al-Din’s attacks in the 1150s that Pisans were to receive privileges with any permanence in Syrian ports, perhaps to ensure Pisan support against future Muslim incursions. In 1154 Raynald of Châtillon awarded a 50 per cent tax reduction in Antioch.24 By 1156 Pisans were numerous enough in Tyre for Baldwin III to grant properties and tax privileges.25 It should be noted that although the Pisans were exempt from some taxes, their customers were not. Thus, any initial costs to rulers for granting privileges would have been balanced out by the resulting increase in trade.26 Baldwin’s successor, Amaury I, expanded upon the previous donation in 1165 by granting a large piece of land in front of Tyre’s harbour.27 Favreau-Lilie has also argued that this began the trend of other Tuscan merchants operating under the Pisan banner to enjoy their privileges.28 The Holy Land was not the only place to enjoy the positive effects of increased sea traffic; at some point the Pisan quarter in Constantinople acquired a second wharf (a clear sign of trade growth).29 However, things took a turn for the worse when in 1156 Manuel I’s disfavour resulted in the loss of Pisa’s preferential tax rate. This increase in operating costs would have slowed growth and perhaps led some merchants to prefer to concentrate their efforts elsewhere. In 1162, after Pisans and Venetians destroyed the seven-year-old Genoese quarter and Pisa agreed with Frederick Barbarossa to divide Sicily, Manuel relocated the Genoese and Pisan quarters to the suburb of Pera across the Golden Horn.30 The relocation lasted eight years before Manuel restored their quarters in 1170.31 Although Pera was within sight of the city, its inconvenient location would have initially depressed (or at least disrupted) trade and some residents, rather than relocate to a dissatisfactory location, likely decided to emigrate from Constantinople to a city with better commercial prospects. Though it is true that, in later years, 24 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 6 no. 4. 25 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 6 no. 5. 26 J. Riley-Smith, ‘Government in Latin Syria and the Commercial Privileges of Foreign Merchants’, in Relations between East and West in the Middle Ages, ed. D. Baker (Edinburgh, 1973), 109–32, at 118. 27 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 11 no. 9. 28 Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 189. 29 This was perhaps granted in John II’s lost 1136 chrysobull. See Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 8 no. 7. 30 Annali genovesi di Caffaro e de’ suoi continuatori, ed. L.T. Belgrano et.al., 5 vols (Genoa, 1890–1929), i, 67–8; Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 459; Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 40 no. 34; J.M. Powell, ‘Medieval Monarchy and Trade’, 434–5. 31 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 40 no. 34.

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the suburb eventually became a centre of Constantinopolitan commerce, this was not the case at the time; Pera was isolated from the traditional wharves of the city and insultingly far from the political centre. In 1170, as the German threat to the Eastern Empire increased and the ever more powerful Venetians came into conflict with him, Manuel realized he needed the additional security of Pisan naval power and thus reconfirmed all of the old privileges.32 The restoration would have spurred growth once again, especially after the Venetians were arrested the following year, reducing competition. For reasons unknown, Pisans appeared more apt to settle and integrate with local communities than either the Genoese or the Venetians and so they consequently had a larger year-round presence in the major ports as the twelfth century progressed.33 This trend is noticeable in Constantinople, where there is evidence of Pisan inhabitants utilizing a fair amount of Greek in their documents and even acquiring Greek appellations,34 a typical result of long-term settlement. Favreau-Lilie has mentioned that during this period Italians made inroads into the local and regional shipping markets, which may help to explain why Greek words and names occur with more frequency with Pisans than with the other Latin traders.35 Additionally, she noted that the Italian merchants in the Holy Land who were more settled were able to exert political influence by offering loans to rulers;36 this helps to explain why Pisans received privileges more frequently in the Levant during this period than the other communes. The fact that by this point Pisa dominated North African trade also suggests that, by virtue of more extensive experience, Pisan merchants would have been more comfortable interacting with Arabic speakers and thus more prone than their rivals to settle in Syria. Pisa’s larger year-round presence in the Levant also meant that Pisans were a natural source of military support. This is precisely the manner in which Pisa finally broke into Acre. Amaury I rewarded the Pisans for their naval assistance in Egypt by granting lands for a church and several houses near the port of Acre on 19 May, 1168.37 This was the creation of the Pisan quarter. Although it might seem odd that Acre came last, Michael Ehrlich’s work has suggested that it was still a marginal port in the eleventh 32 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 54 no. 34; Maragone, ‘Gli Annales Pisani’, 54. 33 M.-L. Favreau-Lilie, ‘Der Fernhandel und die Auswanderung der Italiener ins Heilige Land’, in Venedig und die Weltwirtschaft um 1200, ed. W. von Stromer (Stuttgart, 1999), 203–34, at 222. 34 S. Borsari, ‘Pisani a Bisanzio nel XII secolo’, Bollettino Storico Pisano, 60 (1991), 59–75, at 69. 35 Favreau-Lilie, ‘Der Fernhandel’, 205. 36 Favreau-Lilie, ‘Der Fernhandel’, 206. 37 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 14 no. 11.

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century and experienced a truly meteoric rise to prominence in Syria over the course of the twelfth century, resulting in an economic and population boom, largely thanks to Pisan investment resulting from through traffic to Alexandria.38 Despite being a relative latecomer to the Levant, Pisa successfully acquired prime waterfront real estate in virtually every city she entered (Constantinople, Acre, and Tyre), which was more than the other Italians could claim by 1168, though space constraints often limited the geographic extent of these quarters.39 From the very beginning of his reign in Egypt, Saladin practised a policy of constant enticement to the Italian communes. 40 According to one of Saladin’s letters, not only were the Italians fierce warriors, but they had also stopped trading with Egypt after Amaury’s invasions.41 He recognized the importance of sustained trade with the Italians and set about concluding commercial treaties with them to provide the material needed for the war he was planning. In exchange for a promise to offer no aid to Egypt’s enemies and to supply Egypt with timber and iron, in 1173 Saladin conceded to the Pisans more autonomy, the use of their own scales, the reduction of taxes on war materials from 19 per cent to 10 per cent, the halving of other tax rates, and also set the tax on grain at 20 per cent. 42 According to scattered Arabic sources, between 1154 and 1173 Alexandrian tax rates had climbed to between 20 and 30 per cent.43 As taxes rose it is not unreasonable to assume that many merchants decided to move their business to the neighbouring Crusader States, partially explaining the growth of Pisan privileges in those cities at that time. Saladin’s policies brought ever more Italians back into Alexandria to sell their goods, especially timber, iron, and pitch, since he had promised they could charge higher prices for these goods in Egypt than elsewhere. 44 Egypt’s fleet had been accidentally destroyed in 1168 and he now wished to 38 M. Ehrlich, ‘Urban Landscape Development in Twelfth-Century Acre’, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain & Ireland, 18 (2008), 257–74, at 258. 39 In Byzantium, Amalfi was not on the harbour; in Acre, neither was Genoa; in Tyre, neither were Genoa nor Venice. 40 H.A.R. Gibb, ‘The Rise of Saladin, 1169–1189’, in A History of the Crusades, ed. K.M. Setton, 6 vols (Madison, 1969–89), i, 563–89, at 584. 41 Abu Shamah, ‘Kitâb’ ar-Rawdatayn’, in Bibliotheca arabo-sicula: versione italiana, ed. M. Amari, 2 vols (Turin, 1880), i, 541. 42 Jacoby, ‘Les Italiens en Égypte’, 78–9; Amari, I diplomi arabi, 257 no. 7. 43 E. Ashtor, ‘Il regno dei crociate e il commercio di levante’, in I comuni italiani nel regno crociato di Gerusalemme, ed. G. Airaldi and B.Z. Kedar (Genoa, 1986), 15–56, at 41–2. 44 Saladin provided further protection for Pisans on their way to pray at the church of St Nicholas, suggesting both that the church was exterior to the fondaco and that Pisans were already accustomed to praying there before 1173. Amari, I diplomi arabi, 257 no. 7.

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rebuild it.45 Saladin’s awards to the Italians worked to his favour the following year, when Pisans in Alexandria helped fend off a Norman Sicilian attack in 1174.46 However, despite the tax benefits, Saladin devalued his currency in order to pay for all of his imports, which retarded trade growth, and restricted Pisans from all but the coastal cities. Nevertheless, growth continued, though it was surpassed by the growth rate in the Crusader States.47 Saladin followed this bestowal with letters in 1177 and 1179 requesting more timber and arms, reiterating that the merchants could charge higher prices.48 This trade in war materials was not a secret either in the Levant or back in Europe. As early as 1156 King Baldwin III was aware of this practice and forbade it on pain of losing all property.49 Likewise, in 1179 the Third Lateran Council decreed in canon 24 that the selling of war materials to Saracens was an offence worthy of excommunication, loss of property, and enslavement.50 However, this did not stem the flow of contraband into Alexandria.51 Why then were the Pisans not excommunicated by the church for their sins or punished by the rulers of the Crusader States for treating with their enemies? Pisa’s salvation rested upon how integral to the maintenance of the Latin East it had become. Next to shipping goods, the republic’s largest business was the transportation of pilgrims and warriors to the Holy Land.52 Additionally, the scale of business conducted in the Levant by Pisans at this point produced significant tax revenue; revenue that the Latin leaders would sorely miss if the Pisans were enslaved. Finally, the sheer number of Pisans in the area meant that the Franks had at their disposal a significant military force of international renown. All of these disadvantages to punishing the Pisans perhaps at the time seemed to outweigh the potential threat of Saladin acquiring more wood and iron. The fact that Pisa received Saladin’s privileges two and four years before Venice and Genoa, respectively, reaffirms that Pisa was already the dominant mercantile force in Egypt.53 Ironically, the effect of Saladin’s policy of encouraging as much trade as possible with the Pisans had the result of 45 J.H. Pryor, Geography, Technology, and War: studies in the maritime history of the Mediterranean, 649–1571 (Cambridge, 1988), 125. 46 Gibb, ‘Rise of Saladin’, 584. 47 Ashtor, ‘Il Regno’, 43; Amari, I diplomi arabi, 257 no. 7; Allmendinger, ‘Die Bezeihungen’, 85. 48 Amari, I diplomi arabi, 264–5 nos 10 and 11. 49 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 7 no. 5. 50 COD, 199. For a thorough study on the history of papal embargos, see Stefan K. Stantchev, Spiritual Rationality: papal embargo as cultural practice (Oxford, 2014). 51 Ashtor, ‘Il regno’, 50. For an opposing view, see Day, ‘Impact of the Third Crusade’, 160. 52 Favreau-Lilie, ‘Der Fernhandel’, 206. 53 D.E. Queller and G.W. Day, ‘Some Arguments in Defense of the Venetians on the Fourth Crusade’, American Historical Review, 81 (1976), 717–37, at 731.

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greatly increasing the number of Pisans who travelled to and resided within the Levant. As Saladin gradually rebuilt the Saracen fleet and augmented his stores of armaments for over a decade, so too were the stores of Tuscan manpower being augmented within the neighbouring Latin Kingdom. It was the effort of these very same Pisans during the 1187 summer off-season that prevented Saladin from capturing Tyre, and it was with their aid that Richard I of England was able to reclaim several of the fallen cities. Had Saladin not persistently driven up the demand for Pisan goods, there would have been no incentive for Pisan merchants to increase their output to meet that demand, a process which entailed building more ships, employing more sailors and merchants, and securing more reliable partners at the ports along the way who would happily defend their Levantine homes. This was an ironic twist of fate, since it was the close relationship with the Pisans that allowed Saladin to arm his forces in the first place. Gerald Day has suggested that Saladin’s incentives diminished the importance of Constantinople as a source for eastern goods, and it seems growth was indeed slower there.54 However, this downturn was nothing compared to the effects of the 1182 massacre of the Latins in Constantinople; this was the first of a wave of three mass expulsions experienced by Pisans in the years surrounding the Third Crusade. Thousands were killed or sold into slavery, and many of those who escaped took retribution upon the Greeks by resorting to piracy, a campaign that continued unabated until at least 1204. William of Tyre informs us ‘those that refuse to indulge in piracy and rapine decide to come to Syria’.55 The fact that in 1182 Baldwin IV issued a charter in Acre granting a plaza near the port upon which Pisans were to build lodges confirms that the city experienced a large influx of displaced Pisans.56 In the wake of the massacre, Pisans slowly began returning to Constantinople, though without the privileges they had previously enjoyed.57 The next great moment of change came with the Battle of Hattin in 1187 and its aftermath. In Alexandria, all commerce was halted with Europeans for the duration of the Third Crusade.58 Interestingly, William of Tyre’s 54 Day, ‘Impact of the Third Crusade’, 162. 55 Guillaume de Tyr Chronique, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, 2 vols (Turnholt, 1986), ii, 1025, ‘alii vero, qui stragem et rapinas abhominabantur operari, cum uxoribus et liberis et residuo substantiole sue naves ingressi, quarum illis multus occurrebat numerus, a predicto declinantes exercitu ad nos in Syriam descenderunt’. 56 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 23 no. 19. 57 Jacoby, ‘Italian Privileges and Trade in Byzantium’, 358. 58 Jacoby, ‘Les Italiens en Égypte’, 80. Trade resumed in 1192, but there were no further known grants or recognitions of privileges until 1207. See Amari, I diplomi arabi, 280 no. 20.

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continuator informs us that the Pisans (and other Italians) in Alexandria continued with business as usual through the rest of the summer and fall; after wintering there, they were not permitted to leave in the spring of 1188 unless they agreed to take all of the European refugees with them.59 Count Raymond III of Tripoli and Marquis Conrad of Montferrat both gave extensive privileges and properties to the Pisans for their vital assistance in protecting Tyre. It is noteworthy that Venice never received any recognition in this regard, which suggests that either their numbers or their efforts were too few to make a noticeable difference, while Genoa was only able to secure the elimination of commercial tariffs (but not other taxes).60 Although it is true that at the time Venice owned almost a third of Tyre, one must take into account that the semi-annual Venetian convoys would not have been in the Holy Land during the height of summer. Also, Venice had traditionally avoided involvement in the political affairs of the Latin Kingdom after the issuing of the Pactum Warmundi, as evidenced by their near complete absence from both the cartulary and chronicle records of the later twelfth century. The privileges of 1187 served two purposes: to guarantee that the Pisans would remain to continue the fight and to draw more Pisans (manpower) to the Levant.61 Also, the loosening of the definition of who was ‘Pisan’ was an easy way to bolster these numbers.62 Pisans were the natural choice for alliance; they were not only widely renowned for their expertise in siege machinery and naval prowess, but their more stable expatriate population offered a reliable supply of manpower regardless of the season. Their numbers in Tyre also would have been augmented by incoming refugees from the fallen Crusader territories and Alexandria.63 If the Pisans in Tyre were indeed able to use the newly granted three ovens and three mills to their full potential then that would certainly show a significant increase in the number of Pisan settlers in Tyre.64 After his arrival in August, Conrad confirmed Raymond’s charter and extended it much further for both Tyre and Acre in 1187 and 1188 even though Acre was still in Muslim hands at the time.65 59 La continuation de Guillaume de Tyr (1184–1197), ed. M.R. Morgan (Paris, 1982), 74. 60 Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 471. 61 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 26 no. 23 and 30 no. 25. 62 Tuscans trading under the Pisan banner could now enjoy their privileges. See Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 240. 63 Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 242. 64 Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 394. 65 Among numerous other concessions, Pisans received an official in the office of the cathena. Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 26 no. 23; 30 no. 25; 33 no. 27 and 34 no. 28. This privilege

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Despite the major disruptions of 1187 and the signif icant territorial losses to Saladin, trade steadily increased to the Holy Land along with pilgrim traffic, thanks in part to the new generous tax incentives.66 David Abulafia argues that the tax exemptions could not possibly have all been put into place because the resources of the Pisans were spread too thinly as a result of attempted investment in all Mediterranean markets at once.67 On the contrary, it seems that the very reason why the privileges were conferred in the first place was that the local authorities were desperate for manpower, something of which only the Pisans had a larger yearround supply. Jacoby, too, takes issue with the privileges and assumes that they must have been forgeries, for had the Pisans actually received harbour-front property, they would have been able to avoid the customs off ice of the cathena.68 Yet surely the cathena had employees making regular rounds of the port. Pisan merchants directly controlled their own wharves in Constantinople even though they owed commercial duties to the Empire, so there is no reason to think that this would pose a problem in the Kingdom of Jerusalem. After Saladin released Guy of Lusignan from captivity in 1188, a succession controversy for the Kingdom of Jerusalem began between Guy and Conrad of Montferrat that lasted four years, resulting in both sides vying for Pisan support. Shortly after many of the Pisans in Tyre left Conrad’s side (marching out of the city) to support Guy in 1189, Conrad annulled the 1187 privileges. When Conrad expelled the remaining Pisans later in 1189 they lost their properties as well, a large portion of the city according to Richard of the Temple.69 Although not in control of Tyre at the time, Guy reconfirmed their holdings a few months later in November with negligible adjustments.70 However, based on Ambroise’s account that Conrad aided Guy’s siege of Acre in March 1190, it seems likely that Guy and Conrad came to some sort of understanding and, because Guy had confirmed Conrad’s 1187 charters, the Pisans probably reclaimed their prior holdings a few short months after allowed Pisans to decide who was ‘Pisan’ and thus tax exempt. See Riley-Smith, ‘Government in Latin Syria’, 112. 66 Ashtor, ‘Il regno’, 40. 67 D. Abulafia, Review of Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, vom ersten Kreuzzug bis zum Tode Heinrichs von Champagne (1098–1197), by Marie-Luise Favreau-Lilie, Speculum, 67 (1992), 141. 68 D. Jacoby, ‘Crusader Acre in the Thirteenth Century: urban layout and topography’, Studi Medievali, 20 (1979), 1-45, at 24. 69 Itinerarium peregrinorum et gesta regis Ricardi, ed. W. Stubbs, Chronicles and Memorials of the Reign of Richard I, 2 vols, RS 38 (London, 1864–65), i, 61. 70 When the Pisans sided with Guy, Conrad expelled them from Tyre. See Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 36 no. 31 and 38 no. 32.

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their loss.71 Shortly after Conrad’s arrival outside Acre, with his Genoese supporters in tow, Guy issued a charter in May 1190 exempting the Genoese from entry and exit taxes as well as residence fees in Acre.72 The slimness of the concession reflects the size of the Genoese contingent. At the least, the Pisans regained their privileges with Conrad’s 1191 confirmation of Guy’s charters, but only after they had arranged his betrothal to Queen Isabella of Jerusalem.73 Conrad may have issued this charter early in the year in appreciation for the Archbishop of Pisa’s annulment of Isabella’s previous marriage, permitting Conrad to marry and secure a firmer claim to the throne. However, relations once again became a bit rockier between Conrad and the Tuscan merchants; the Pisans successfully petitioned Richard I of England to confirm all of their privileges across the entirety of Syria sometime between 11 June and 13 October 1191.74 As the only undisputed royal figure in Syria at the time, Richard’s high rank and distinguished pedigree held sway over the other nobles and bestowed additional legitimacy upon Pisan claims, in similar fashion to his oversight of the resolution of the succession controversy.75 Importantly, Count Henry of Champagne was a witness to Richard’s charter, thus proving that Henry consented to the validity of the document at the time. Though this is not surprising as both he and the Pisans were supporters of Richard, it is worth noting since Henry would soon change his opinion of Pisan rights in the region. In April 1192, the contest was put to a vote. Conrad was proclaimed King of Jerusalem76 and Richard I of England sold Cyprus to Guy of Lusignan as a consolation prize, much to Conrad’s dismay.77 Conrad was then assassinated (seemingly by the Assassins).78 Shortly after Guy’s departure for Cyprus, 71 Ambroise, The History of the Holy War: Ambroise’s Estoire de la guerre sainte, ed. and trans. M. Ailes (Woodbridge, 2003), II, ll.3228–3361. For Guy’s confirmations see Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 36 no. 31 and 38 no. 32. 72 Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 476. These exemptions were extended to all taxes and fees in April 1192. 73 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 39 no. 33. 74 Ibid., 58 no. 35. Roger of Howden notes that Richard issued a charter to the Pisans on 11 June 1191: Chronica magistri Rogeri de Houedene, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols, RS 51 (London, 1868–71), iii, 113 and 185. 75 R.C. Smail, ‘The International Status of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem, 1150–1192’, in The Eastern Mediterranean Lands in the Period of the Crusades, ed. P.M. Holt (Warminster, 1977), 23–43, at 31. 76 H.E. Mayer, Die Kanzlei der lateinischen Könige von Jerusalem, 2 vols, MGH, Schriften 40 (Hanover, 1962), ii, 443–44. 77 La continuation, 147. 78 B.M. Bolton, ‘A Matter of Great Confusion: King Richard I and Syria’s Vetus de Monte’, in Diplomatics in the Eastern Mediterranean 1000–1500: aspects of cross-cultural communication,

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where the Pisans were promised properties and privileges, evidence of a Pisan plot to depose Conrad and install Guy on the throne also came to light.79 If William of Tyre’s continuator is to be believed on these events, then the notion that this coup would be feasible in a city that duly supported its rightfully elected king speaks even more to just how strong the Pisans were in Tyre (Conrad’s longtime seat); the continuator noted that ‘at that time the Pisans had greater power in Syria than the Genoese’.80 It is worthwhile to take a brief look back at this point to consider an alternative hypothesis. The narrative painted thus far is admittedly inferential in nature, relying heavily on inductive reasoning to piece together the circumstances behind the charters as they rarely clearly state the underlying motives. This inevitably leads to a chicken and egg problem: did the Pisans come first or did the privileges? Were the privileges granted in response to Pisan influx or were they designed to encourage further growth? The Saladin letters are quite clear in their intent of fostering a sustained growth of trade with Pisa. He was aware that Pisa had a highly developed trade network in Egypt and that the Pisans were the best positioned to provide weapons and other war materials.81 On the other hand, the majority of the Latin Kingdom privileges were rewards for services rendered after the fact: Amaury I rewarded the Pisans in 1168 for their vital assistance in the taking of Alexandria;82 six different charters were issued by Conrad of Montferrat and Guy of Lusignan in recognition of Pisan contributions to the defence of Tyre against Saladin;83 and finally their privileges were confirmed by Richard I in 1191 for helping to reclaim Syria. 84 The only Latin document that counters this trend comes from Amaury’s plans to invade Egypt in 1169, yet even this document was more of a one-time military alliance that spelled out how the spoils of war were to be divided rather than being tailored to encourage sustained migration and commerce. 85 In short, it appears that the Latin kings were decidedly reactionary in granting privileges rather than exhibiting the forward thinking evident in Saladin’s documents. ed. A.D. Beihammer, M.G. Parani, and C.D. Schabel (Leiden, 2008), 171–203. 79 La continuation, 143–6. 80 Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 308. ‘Il avint que en cel tens les Pisans estoient de plus grant poeir en Surie que les Geneveis nen estoient’, La continuation, 159. 81 Amari, I diplomi arabi, 257, 264–5 nos 7, 10–11. 82 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 14 no. 11. 83 Ibid., 26–30, 33–4, 36 nos 23–5, 27–8, 31. 84 Ibid., 58 no. 35. 85 Ibid., 15 no. 12.

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The following month Henry of Champagne issued a charter that recognized the privileges of the Pisans in the form they enjoyed during Baldwin IV’s reign but declared that no more than thirty Pisans were permitted to stay within Tyre for one year; although he did exempt them from cathena duties.86 There is no mention of Tyre again until Emperor Frederick II’s charter of 1229, so it cannot be known for certain when Pisans returned in force to Tyre; however, the one-year stipulation suggests business could return to normal afterwards.87 Importantly, the treaty essentially revoked the real estate grants of 1187–91 throughout the kingdom, perhaps in order to give it to the Templars for their new headquarters in Acre. Henry had also reinstated some of the taxes over the Genoese in Acre in 1192, but later reaffirmed Conrad’s exemptions for them in 1195. By 1193, Tyre and Acre must have been bursting at the seams with Pisans, having already absorbed large numbers of their compatriots from Constantinople, the lost towns of the Crusader States, and Alexandria; the post-Hattin charters drew in even more Pisans directly from Italy. It should be noted that the Pisan expulsions would not have resulted in every Pisan moving en masse to the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Certainly, many returned to the Italian peninsula while others sought their fortunes elsewhere; however, the Holy Land would have been a tempting destination for relocation as it had bustling ports, plenty of trade connections with a sizeable Pisan infrastructure in place even despite recent restrictions, and was much closer than Italy (and therefore less expensive to reach). Such a large population inevitably led to a certain proportion resorting to illicit means of profit, namely piracy. Additionally, professional Pisan pirates had already been operating in the Aegean for over a decade, quite successfully, and it is reasonable to assume that during that time their operations would have expanded southwards from their base of operations on the Anatolian coast. Henry of Champagne repeatedly asked the Acconite Pisans in vain to rein in the activities of their compatriots. One difficulty, perhaps, was due to the privilege of having a Pisan official at the cathena; it was up to a Pisan to decide whether an individual was a Pisan (by this point almost any Tuscan qualified) or a pirate.88 As Silvano Borsari put it, ‘in the twelfth century it is 86 Ibid., 60 no. 37. 87 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 97 no. 66. 88 M.-L. Favreau, ‘Die Italienische Levante-Piraterie und die Sicherheit der Seewege nach Syrien im 12. und 13. Jahrhundert’, Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte, 65 (1978), 461–510, at 485.

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difficult to distinguish between the merchant, the warrior and the pirate: one person could, depending on the circumstances, act according to any one of these models’.89 Henry had had enough by March 1193 and expelled all Pisans from his kingdom upon pain of hanging.90 Needless to say, the Pisans were not pleased at being expelled from a major eastern port for the third time in just over a decade and many more resorted to piracy to maintain (or exceed) their former levels of income as well as to exert pressure on Henry. Piracy continued undiminished for the rest of the twelfth century, just as in the Aegean. The very fact that both the Genoese and Venetians were unable to stem the activity of the corsairs speaks to the relative power of the Pisans. It would be an understatement to say that the expulsion was a rash decision on Henry’s part. The Pisans were an important component to the vitality of Henry’s feeble state: they operated one of the largest navies in the region, their business brought in substantial amounts of sorely needed tax revenue, the size of the permanent population offered a ready source of soldiers, and they were one of the three largest importers of new crusaders and pilgrims from Europe. After Richard’s departure in October 1192, Alexandria reopened its harbour to European traders, offering a tempting home for those no longer welcome in the Kingdom of Jerusalem. It is possible that the third and final expulsion drove many traders to move west along the North African coast. Additionally, in an effort to abate the piratical threat, that same year Isaac II confirmed the old privileges in Constantinople, extended the 4 per cent kommerkion to all goods (excluding exports) and granted control of a third wharf, pointing to a noticeable increase in trade despite the absence of trading privileges.91 This expansion was likely the result of Pisan exiles from Alexandria having set up shop in Constantinople during the years of the Third Crusade, only to be further augmented by those leaving Tyre and the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Isaac’s chrysobull also mentioned that his privileges were to apply throughout the empire, a notable expansion in phraseology over the ‘Aegean Isles’ of the 1111 bull, implying that Pisans were now known to trade in every corner of the empire.92 This broadening also suggests that intra-imperial trade was increasing among Pisan merchants, a natural 89 Borsari, ‘Pisani a Bisanzio’, 75, ‘Nel XII secolo è diff icile distinguere tra il mercante, il guerriero, il corsaro: una stessa persona poteva, a seconda delle circostanze, agire secondo uno di questi modelli’. 90 R. Röhricht, Regesta regni Hierosolymitani (MXCVII–MCCXCI) (New York, 1960), 190 no. 710; La continuation, 159–61. 91 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 40 no. 34. 92 Jacoby, ‘Italian Privileges and Trade in Byzantium’, 358.

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consequence of trade growth in the Levant.93 The Genoese negotiated a nearly identical treaty the same year; though overall the Pisans paid slightly fewer taxes and controlled one more wharf than the Genoese.94 The consuls in Pisa refused to ratify the treaty and negotiations continued for several more years; Pisa still wished to seek some retribution as evinced by their eager acceptance of Frederick Barbarossa’s invitation to sack Constantinople in March 1190.95 Nevertheless, the terms of the chrysobull were upheld by Isaac throughout the negotiations.96 Piracy reached new heights in Syrian waters and by the end of 1194 Henry was desperate to curtail the politically and commercially destructive effects of piracy. He issued a short, almost cryptic, charter in January 1195 that restored to the Pisans in Acre an oven and bath house.97 Favreau-Lilie deduced that Henry was willing to acknowledge Conrad’s terms since the aforementioned oven and baths were granted in Conrad’s 1187 charter, but the phrase appears to be merely formulaic.98 In 1196 Henry extended his protection to those Pisans dwelling peacefully within his domain.99 After Alexius III Angelus came to power in 1195, he showed significant favour to the Pisans, incited them to violence against the Venetian quarter, and employed Pisan corsairs to form his navy.100 Already by 1197 Pisa was sending envoys to request an expansion to their quarter, again, and came to an agreement with Alexius after two years of negotiations.101 Although the specific terms are unknown and the tax rate remained the same, the treaty was generally beneficial to the Pisans.102 Fortunately, a detailed picture of the Pisan quarter has survived in the form of an itemized list of all Pisan holdings dated to 8 April 1199 (which may have been after the bull of Alexius) that shows just how many properties Pisans had acquired.103 By 1199 the 93 Ibid., 365; Lilie, Handel und Politik, 80. 94 Lilie, Handel und Politik, 100–2. 95 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 66 no. 41; Ansbertus, Historia de expeditione Friderici Imperatoris edita a quodam Austriensi clerico, qui eidem interfuit, nomine Ansbertus, ed. J. Dobrovský (Prague, 1827), 45 and 76. 96 Lilie, Handel und Politik, 576. 97 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 65 no. 40. 98 Favreau-Lilie, Die Italiener im Heiligen Land, 321. 99 See below for more detail. Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 65 no. 40 and 73 no. 45. 100 Nicetae Choniatae Historia, ed. I. Bekker (Bonn, 1835), 713. Also see C.M. Brand, Byzantium Confronts the West, 1180–1204 (Cambridge MA, 1968), 214. 101 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 71 no. 44 and 79 no. 48. 102 Brand, Byzantium Confronts the West, 215. 103 Among other things, this list shows that the commune possessed 5 wharves, 18 houses, 24 plots of land, and 2 churches inside the quarter with rents yielding 870 hyperpera annually. See Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 74–5 nos 46–7.

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number of wharves under Pisan control had jumped from three to five, demonstrating that Pisan commerce and population in Constantinople had mushroomed.104 The good times were not to last as Pisa fell out of Alexius III’s favour in 1201 after several Pisans smuggled Prince Alexius (son of the deposed Isaac II) out of Constantinople and into the West.105 However, the fall from most-favoured status does not seem to have dramatically hampered trade. Even after the Fourth Crusade placed the Venetians firmly in charge of commerce in Constantinople Pisans were permitted to trade there (unlike the Genoese), albeit at a much reduced level.106 In Alexandria trade was booming. By the end of the twelfth century the restored fondaco was developing into a full-fledged colony.107 Although foreigners technically were not permitted to remain for more than twelve months, the famed Pisan mathematician Fibonacci (a merchant’s son who travelled in Egypt in the 1190s) wrote in 1202 of a Pisan trader who had lived in Alexandria for five years while his business partner operated in Constantinople.108 Though Pisa missed several opportunities to secure a firm footing in the Holy Land in the first years of the twelfth century, and lagged behind Venice in Constantinople, the Tuscan merchants found a welcoming port in Alexandria and Pisans quickly came to dominate the harbour of Alexander’s city. From this firm base Pisan merchants spread northwards along the coast securing privileges in multiple port cities, playing an integral role in the expansion of Acre as a major commercial centre. When the Byzantines massacred the Latins in 1182, the Kingdom of Jerusalem and Alexandria openly embraced the refugees. The Battle of Hattin was also a tragedy with a silver lining for the Pisans; being in the right place at the right time, the commune secured privileges outstripping even those of the Venetians. Pisans again lost some of their properties with the expulsions of 1189 and 1193. Yet fate smiled upon the Pisans again: both Alexandria and Byzantium were ready to welcome Pisan goods back into their markets. Here they prospered further, and so, too, in Acre after they regained some rights in 1195. By the end of the twelfth century Pisa was a force to be reckoned with in both the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean. 104 Borsari, ‘Pisani a Bisanzio’, 64. 105 I. Bekker, Nicetae Choniatae Historia (Bonn, 1835), 710–12. 106 Müller, Documenti sulle relazione, 84–7 nos 54–5. 107 D. Jacoby, ‘Byzantine Trade with Egypt from the Mid-Tenth century to the Fourth Crusade’, Thesaurismata, 30 (2000), 47–74, at 74. 108 L. Fibonacci, Scritti di Leonardo Pisano: matematico del secolo decimoterzo, ed. B. Boncampagni, 2 vols (Rome, 1857), i, 274–6.

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Pisa experienced a truly remarkable rise in the East from virtually no presence to being a significant power in a short few decades. It did so through the frowned-upon trade in war materials to the Fatimids and Ayyubids of Egypt. Although Genoa and Venice were not innocent of the crime, Pisa must own a larger share of the culpability for Saladin’s success against the Latin Kingdom and the rout at Hattin: Pisa supplied much of the pitch and timber for Saladin’s navy and the iron his soldiers used in the field.109 Nevertheless, they also proved to be the salvation of the remainder of crusader Syria. Without the draw of Alexandrian commerce, it is impossible to guess when, or even if, the Pisans would have developed a significant eastern force. Paradoxically, had the Pisans never arrived on the scene, the history of the Latin Kingdom may either have been a century shorter or much longer and more vibrant, the Pisans being neither able to defend the land against Saladin nor able to supply the Egyptians in the first place. Nevertheless, by deftly navigating the swiftly changing political landscape of the later twelfth century Pisa secured for itself an undeniable importance in the East by the century’s close. About the author: Matthew E. Parker, Saint Louis University, MO

109 Jacoby, ‘The Supply of War Materials’, 106.

6. Innocent III and the Beginning of the Fourth Crusade Edward Peters*

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch06 Abstract Disappointed by a series of failures on the part of kings to win back the Holy Land and burdened with a host of other responsibilities at the outset of his pontif icate, Pope Innocent III in 1198 turned to another form of crusade management, one which employed the pastoral concerns for ecclesiastical and devotional reform developed at the new schools of Paris. That reform movement consisted of articulate papal letters regularly recorded in registers, trusted ecclesiastical administrators, talented papal legates, and inspired charismatic preachers. He also set about creating a home front for the crusade, one that made it the centre of a new pastoral reform mission that included every Christian, whether an actual crusader or not. This new home front was to be managed by ecclesiastical provinces and their cities and nobles, assisted by papal legates and reform and crusade preachers, and offering new and extensive spiritual privileges. This is the context and the outcome of the tournament at Ecry-sur-Aisne in November, 1198, the assembling of an army by the counts of Champagne/Brie, Blois, and Flanders/Hainaut and their novel financial arrangements with the Venetians. With characteristic attention to detail, Innocent also issued instructions for crusaders who failed to appear. Although no single source includes all of these decisions and Innocent’s sustained attention, there is little doubt that Innocent III paid close attention to the crusade from the very beginning of his pontificate.

* This essay is an expanded version of a paper delivered at a memorial session for Jim Powell at the International Medieval Congress at Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo, in May, 2012. I am grateful to Jessalynn Bird and Alfred J. Andrea for their generous assistance.

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Keywords: Fourth Crusade, moral reform, Innocent III, papal legates, preachers, privileges, ecclesiastical provinces, plena potestas, pro peccatis exigentibus

In his experience of crusade both before and after his election and consecration in January and February 1198, Innocent III brought a new purpose to the idea of a military expedition to the Holy Land. That purpose was to link the crusade with a programme of moral reform that extended throughout twelfth-century Christendom and incorporated all Christians in quite original and inventive ways. That is, as James Powell, Brenda Bolton, Jessalynn Bird, Christoph Maier, and a number of other scholars have also pointed out, under Innocent and his successors the crusade took on a new identity, as an organizing pastoral vehicle for universal participation in Christian moral reform, thereby greatly augmenting the economy of salvation.1 To rethink the theology of crusade, however, was one thing; to inspire, organize, and launch a crusade of the new type was quite another. Although Innocent, towards the end of his pontificate, did indeed produce a design for the new crusade in canon 71 of the Fourth Lateran Council at the end of 1215, his earliest efforts in 1198–1202 did not result in the crusade he had imagined, and they were partly the cause of the ill-routed Fourth Crusade. Innocent also knew a fair amount of crusading history.2 It is entirely possible that he knew the history of William of Tyre. It is certain that he knew and was greatly influenced by the writings of Bernard of Clairvaux, particularly those concerning crusade failure and the role of human sinfulness in it. He had also considered crusade while still a cardinal. In 1982, 1 On Innocent, the work of Jim Powell; Pope Innocent III and His World, ed. J.C. Moore (Aldershot, 1999); Innocenzo III; J.C. Moore, Pope Innocent III (1160/61–1216): to root up and to plant (Leiden, 2003; repr. Notre Dame, 2009); Reg. Inn. III; Gesta Inn. III; and B. Bolton, Innocent III: studies on papal authority and pastoral care (Aldershot, 1995). On the Fourth Crusade, D. Queller and T. Madden, The Fourth Crusade: The Conquest of Constantinople, 2nd edn (Philadelphia PA, 1997), and A.J. Andrea, with contributions by B. Whalen, Contemporary Sources for the Fourth Crusade, rev. edn ( Leiden, 2008); J. Bird, ‘The Victorines, Peter the Chanter’s Circle, and the Crusade: two unpublished crusading appeals in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Ms. Latin 14470’, Medieval Sermon Studies, 48 (2004), 5–28; C. Maier, ‘Crisis, Liturgy and the Crusade in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries’, JEH, 48 (1997), 628–57. G. Constable, Crusaders and Crusading in the Twelfth Century (Aldershot, 2009) contains substantial revisions of his important earlier work and several new pieces, all of which cast much light on crusading at the turn of the thirteenth century. For further references, see L.E. Boyle, ‘Innocent III’s View of Himself as Pope’, in Innocenzo III, i, 3–17 and my own ‘Lotario dei Conti di Segni becomes Pope Innocent III: the man and the pope’, in Pope Innocent III and His World, ed. Moore, 3–24. 2 Bolton, ‘Rome as a Setting for God’s Grace’, in her Studies, ch. I.

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Werner Maleczek published a letter from Lotario, the then-cardinal-deacon of SS. Sergius and Bacchus, to Henry VI, written sometime between 1194 and 1197, expressing concern for both heresy and crusade.3 And he knew that kings had led the Second and Third Crusades. But the earliest surviving record of Innocent III encountering any crusade – at a time when he was still the recent student and present curialist Lotario dei Conti di Segni – was the news of the defeat and slaughter of the army of the Kingdom of Jerusalem at the Horns of Hattin in July, 1187, which reached the papal Curia at Ferrara in October, perhaps hastened the death of Urban III, and inspired the crusade call Audita tremendi, issued by Gregory VIII in the same month. 4 Not only was the reading of the letter aloud at the Curia a sobering experience, but so was the rapid and large-scale response it elicited. Within a few months the four most powerful rulers in Europe took the Cross: Phillip Augustus, Henry II (in 1188 and, after Henry’s death in 1189, his successor Richard I), William II of Sicily, and Frederick Barbarossa. The speed, efficiency, and initial success of this mobilization produced, however, decidedly mixed results and great disappointment. The mighty of the earth had made a rapid and immense effort, but all had fallen short. By Innocent’s election and coronation it was clear that before the Holy Land could begin to be regained, the defence of its surviving territories was foremost in Innocent’s mind, and kings were not very likely to be useful here, because kings wanted to perform memorable deeds, kings were reluctant to take clerical advice, kings quarrelled and departed, and kings died. The death of Richard I in 1199 removed the most successful of the leaders of the Third Crusade. The death of William II in 1189 and the subsequent struggle for the throne had taken Sicily and the mainland Regno out of crusade affairs for nearly a decade; and the death of Barbarossa in June 1190 left a very large and leaderless crusade army to make its dispirited way home. The defeat of Alfonso VIII of Castile at Alarcos in July 1195 was one more failed royal crusade. Innocent’s earlier sentiments about rulers and crusades in the letter to Henry VI seem to have faded in the wake of Alarcos. Yet one more imperial crusading force left Sicily in September, 1196, reached the Holy Land, and awaited its leader Henry VI, who never arrived, dying at Messina in September, and leaving yet another troublesome and 3 W. Maleczek, ‘Ein Brief des Kardinals Lothar von SS. Sergius und Bacchus (Innocenz III) an Kaiser Heinrich VI’, Deutsches Archiv, 38 (1982), 564–76. 4 S. Schein, Gateway to the Heavenly City: crusader Jerusalem and the Catholic West (1099–1187) (Aldershot, 2005), whose last chapter discusses the European reaction. English translation and discussion in Crusade and Christendom, 4–9.

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disorganized crusade army in the Holy Land until well into the spring of 1198, and nothing but trouble in the Regno.5 In February 1198, that crusading force was still in Syria. Innocent wrote to its leaders but did not hear back from them until August 1198.6 Its departure from Syria was not known by Innocent until summer. Also in the summer of 1198, the newly crowned king of Jerusalem, Amalrich II, concluded a five-year truce with Saladin’s brother al-ʿᾹdil, Saphadin. All told, the news of Hattin, Audita tremendi, the eventual loss of Jerusalem and other holy places, the Third Crusade, Alarcos, and the failed Sicilian crusade of 1197 constituted Innocent’s first experience of crusading. And it was clear from all of these failures that something was not working. A number of crusade theorists, including Lotario and Peter of Blois, began to wonder whether the mighty were really suited, simply because of their wealth, power, and willingness alone, to regaining the Holy Land. Their wealth and power certainly permitted and often seemed to encourage them to indulge in high-end vices that troubled the order and moral discipline of Christendom and greatly offended God. And their incessant wars with each other tied up and destroyed fighting men who could be employed more virtuously and usefully in the Holy Land. On the other hand, kings could recruit, field, and move armies, finance their enterprise, and serve as recognized leaders. The problem of crusade management loomed large when kings were dispensed with, a problem that loomed large again in the later thirteenth century.7 But other Christian warriors besides kings might be more amenable to moral reform, as the increasing popularity of the idea of the vita apostolica, and the crusade as an imitatio Christi, widespread ideals of ecclesiastical and devotional reform, and the pastoral concerns of the moral theologians at Paris had begun to realize. And those other Christian soldiers might be more easily and effectively reachable at the provincial or diocesan level. In the event that ecclesiastical provinces might not prove able to deal effectively with kings and emperors, a resolute pope could use stern letters to prelates and nobles, talented legates, inspired, charismatic preachers – or even saints and miracles. 5 C. Naumann, Der Kreuzzug Kaisers Heinrich VI (Frankfurt, 1994). 6 B. Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust; Sparrow on the Housetop”: attitudes to Jerusalem and the Holy Land in the circle of Pope Innocent III’, in The Holy Land, Holy Lands, and Christian History, ed. R.N. Swanson, SCH, 30 (Woodbridge UK, 2000), 154–80, at 156–7. 7 J.M. Powell, ‘Church and Crusade: Frederick II and Louis IX’, Catholic Historical Review, 93 (2007), 251–64.

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Earlier, one such saint, Bernard of Clairvaux, not only greatly influenced Innocent III, but also had to deal with an early crusade failure, that of the Second Crusade in 1147 and after. In the course of considering that failure and explaining it, Bernard and others blamed the sinful condition of crusaders and other Christians – the topos of pro peccatis exigentibus. Sinfulness, not a lack of adequate power, material resources, or desire, but a lack of moral worthiness, prevented crusade success.8 The moral theologians at Paris and the preachers whom they taught argued that moral reform was essential for rectifying Christian society. Innocent III combined the two themes – God, who changes times and seasons, who sets up kings and throws them down, had offered the crusade as a means of salvation for all. Under Innocent III, a theologian before he became a canonist (if he ever did), the two became inseparable. When papally charged preachers went about western Europe, whether preaching moral reform or crusade or both, they were in fact as far as Innocent was concerned preaching the same thing. Some were better at preaching moral reform (the overly maligned Eustache de Flaix comes to mind), others both reform and the crusade (as do the effective preachers Fulk of Neuilly and Adam of Perseigne, as well as their successors in 1216–17), but they were all parts of a single movement; now its direction was to be assumed by the pope and his legates aided by the cooperation of the leaders of ecclesiastical provinces, the Cistercian and Premonstratensian religious orders, and the Military Orders. As James Powell put it: A systematic administrator and determined executive, [Innocent] brought to his task an intuitive creativity by which he produced approaches that went well beyond previous endeavors. As a result of his initiative, the fusion of the ideology of the crusade with the movements of lay piety that had begun by the middle of the twelfth century achieved unity in a theology of the crusade …. The entire machinery of the crusade – recruitment, preaching, the vow, the indulgence, finance – were reinterpreted in terms of their salvific benefits to the entire Christian community, especially the laity.9

8 Bernard of Clairvaux, De consideratione libri quinque, ii.1, PL, clxxxii, 741–5. See also B. Bolton, ‘The Cistercians and the Aftermath of the Second Crusade’, in The Second Crusade and the Cistercians, ed. M. Gervers (New York, 1992), 131–9 (repr. in Bolton, Studies, ch. X) and G. Constable, ‘The Second Crusade as Seen by Contemporaries’, revised in Constable, Crusaders and Crusading, 229–300. 9 Powell, Anatomy, 15–16.

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For Innocent, the Christian community included the churches of the East, schismatic or not. The emphasis in the early chapters of the Gesta Innocentii Tercii on the Christians in the East is telling, as are Innocent’s letters to Alexius III of Constantinople eliciting Byzantine resources for the crusade – unsuccessfully. In Innocent’s view, reform included unification of the schismatic churches, hardly an original point, but worth emphasizing again. And so to the actual pontificate, which began on 9 January 1198. The pontificate, although not its early years, is very well, if selectively, documented. Both Roscher and Maleczek suggest an early and a deliberate delay on Innocent’s part to plan and launch a formal crusade, but this does not mean that the Holy Land was not central to Innocent’s policies.10 Roscher speaks of Innocent as lacking a ‘concrete plan’ for a crusade early in his pontificate, but should that have been expected? Haste and great royal force had not helped the Third Crusade, and Innocent had a number of immediate and dangerous local matters on his hands in the first months of 1198, from getting his own household in order, to the city of Rome, the Papal States, and the Regno (with its attendant problem of the young Frederick II after his mother’s death in 1199). And when Innocent was consecrated on 22 February, there was already a crusading army in the Holy Land, an army of whose unhappy fate Innocent did not become aware for several months. On the other hand, the author of the Gesta says in chapter forty-six that Innocent ‘always hoped most fervently to aid and recover the Holy Land, considering carefully how he could effectively fulfil this desire’.11 He says this early in the work, in his discussion of Innocent’s spiritual concerns, not in the chapters on crusade. Careful consideration takes time, and Innocent repeatedly spoke early and late of taking advice from periti and trusted counsellors, as he was to do in Vineam Domini in 1213. By 1213, of course, Innocent had learned his crusade lessons painfully. He was to apply them in canon seventy-one of the Fourth Lateran Council.12 Of course, the early years of the pontificate in the Gesta were described from hindsight and at the outset included little documentation. At the same time, Innocent was virtually reinventing the papal registers (of which the crucial third and fourth years 1200/1 and 1201/2 are mostly missing) and establishing principles that are still not entirely clear for the inclusion and 10 H. Roscher, Papst Innozenz III und die Kreuzzüge (Göttingen, 1969), 51–99; Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust”’, 154–80; W. Maleczek, Petrus Capuanus. Kardinal, Legat am vierten Kreuzzug, Theologe (1214) (Vienna, 1988), 73–110. 11 Gesta Inn. III, 61–3, ch. 46. 12 English trans. and discussion in Crusade and Christendom, 124–9; COD, 267–71.

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exclusion of letters. In his letter to the patriarch of Jerusalem announcing his election (1–10 February 1198), Quanta sit, Innocent added a passage indicating his profound concern for conditions in the Holy Land. Innocent echoed these concerns in his early letters to Conrad of Mainz, Henry of Brabant, and Hermann of Thuringia, reminding them that strength and numbers alone would not move God to aid the negotium crucis.13 In June 1198, Innocent wrote to Lawrence, bishop of Syracuse, and Lucas, abbot of Sambucina, encouraging the raising of subsidies by the people of Sicily.14 Without kings, money would have to be found in other ways. Chapters forty-six and forty-seven of the Gesta are a paraphrase of Innocent’s first two crusade letters, Post miserabile of 15 August 1198, and Graves orientalis terrae of 3 December 1199.15 Thus Innocent seems to have had an expedition of some kind on his mind from very early in his pontificate. But without troublesome kings, with an already crumbling crusade in place, and in the midst of other urgent concerns, such an expedition wanted some planning. Innocent’s first call for a crusade was the letter Post miserabile of 13–15 August 1198 which exists in two versions: the York copy from the chronicle of Roger of Howden (dated 13 August and from Rome), and the register text (dated 15 August and, correctly, from Rieti), both of which display the results of months of concern and a group of ideas rapidly crowded together. The addressees are the leaders of ecclesiastical provinces, their clergy, and their provincial nobility and towns. In Post miserabile Innocent seems to regard Christendom not only as a group of kingdoms, but as a group of ecclesiastical provinces, whose nobility he can call out for appropriate purposes. The arenga is a lament on the disasters that have befallen the Holy Land, nearly all scriptural references being classic citations from the Old Testament, echoing Bernard and also echoing Innocent’s study of scripture at Paris and his own evident skill as a homilist. Innocent then introduces a savage diatribe against Christians by a rhetorical but well-informed Muslim critic (who may very well be Innocent’s own construction). The diatribe is not simply generic; the Muslim indicts not only the God of the Christians and their pretended holy places, but specifically the Franks, the English, 13 Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust”’, 157–8. 14 Reg. Inn. III, i, 302. Most of Innocent’s letters on the Fourth Crusade, including those cited in this study, are translated in Andrea, Contemporary Sources, 7–176, and several independently in Crusade and Christendom. 15 Reg. Inn. III, i, 336 and ii, 258. The York version of Post miserabile is in Chronica magistri Rogerii de Houedene, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols, RS 51 (London, 1868–1871), iv, 70–5; Crusade and Christendom, 28–37. The circumstances immediately leading up to August, 1198 are discussed in Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust”’, 157–60.

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the Germans, and the Spaniards, the latter probably with Alarcos in mind, which Innocent certainly knew about in 1198. There follows a further indictment of the Germans (now the Germans of 1197–8), who have occupied an undefended Beirut, accomplished nothing more, and then fled. Innocent then indicates that he has received independent information concerning the cowardice of the Germans, the Muslim scorn of their bravery and skill at arms, and their ‘cowardly retreat to the sordid little dens they called kingdoms’. Throughout the pontificate, Innocent’s sources of information about the Holy Land and European affairs are both numerous and active. Innocent’s network was a real network, even though it may have left few easily detectable parchment trails. Innocent then takes up the debt of all Christians to God and calls for a crusade to depart in March 1199, organized according to cities, earls, and barons, to remain in the Holy Land for two years. For this purpose, Innocent has appointed two legates, Petrus Capuanus, cardinal- deacon of Santa Maria in Via Lata, and Soffredus (the York copy of Post miserabile misidentifies him as Stephen), cardinal-priest of Santa Prassede, whom Innocent himself has signed with the Cross and promises to support out of his own funds. This form of organization generally resembles that of the First Crusade, but now organized through a series of ecclesiastical provinces and cities and directed by the pope and his legates. Then the privileges. As Penny Cole points out, Post miserabile differed from both Quantum praedecessores and Audita tremendi in ‘the wealth of organizational detail unprecedented’ in the earlier crusade appeals, including the remarkable clerical tax of one-fortieth of ecclesiastical incomes.16 Among that wealth of detail is a committed papal authority for crusade, the moral obligation on every Christian to support it because of his and her debt to Christ and the opportunity it offered for spiritual benefits, as well as a condemnation of secular princes, both for their lustfulness and their constant wars with each other and thus their shirking of their Christian obligation. In the York copy, there is a special injunction to the archbishop informing him that Innocent has appointed two men, the unnamed prior of the Augustinian canonry of Thurgarton and Master Vacarius, to preach to the nobles, associating with them a Templar and a Hospitaller. All of this shows signs of urgency, but also of great frustration at recent events and the beginnings of an extremely elaborate programme to correct previous failures. 16 P.J. Cole, Preaching of the Crusades to the Holy Land, 1095–1270 (Cambridge MA, 1991), 80–97; C.R. Cheney, Pope Innocent III and England, Päpste und Papsttum, 9 (Stuttgart, 1976), 239–54.

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Preaching thus became a major vehicle for Innocent’s crusade programme. And now preaching is to be done by qualified preachers under the supervision of papal legates. Few popes ever exploited the medium as successfully as Innocent. And, as Brenda Bolton has said, he appointed men he knew and trusted.17 His appointment of Fulk of Neuilly in his letter of 5 November 1198, was directed, as he said, to a man he had earlier certainly heard, probably in Paris, and to whom he entrusted the recruiting of other suitable preachers, including Cistercians and Benedictines.18 Innocent had to have at least heard, and possibly known Fulk, since he did not appoint servants whom he did not know and trust. Fulk’s great triumph came at the general chapter of the Cistercian Order at Cîteaux in 1201. Villehardouin, who knew (or said) little about Innocent in his opening chapters, certainly knew of Fulk and Innocent’s charge to him, although I suggest that he reverses the sequence, and that his relegation of Innocent to a peripheral role in these years need not be taken at face value.19 Innocent is constructing a home front of impressive and highly original proportions, incorporating existing monastic networks and creating preaching tours and legatine districts. When local provincials participated, as did Hubert Walter, with his questions and communications of 1200–1 and his councils at Westminster in the same years, and other prelates elsewhere, the home front was solidified even more. This was a European parallel (recruited largely out of France, England, and south Italy) to Innocent’s network of legates and prelates in the East discussed so well by Brenda Bolton.20 This is the network that caught up Thibaut of Champagne/Brie, Louis of Blois, and Baldwin IX of Flanders/Hainaut, as well as other princes. Villehardouin translated this process and these people into a scenario that any good screenwriter or movie director would envy, a scenario appropriate to the values and identities of himself, his companions, and his readers. He opens with the glitter of the great tournament at Ecry-sur-Aisne in November 1198 and the dynamic effects of Fulk’s preaching (implicitly, if not his actual presence at the tournament, which Villehardouin never asserts) and the dramatic taking of the Cross on that occasion by the greatest nobles of France. There is some (perhaps unconscious) irony here, since tournaments had been roundly condemned and participation in them 17 Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust”’, 160–5. 18 Reg. Inn. III, i, 398. Discussion in Andrea, Contemporary Sources, 19–21. 19 Joinville and Villehardouin, Chronicles of the Crusades, trans. C. Smith (London–New York, 2008), xi–15. On the myth of Fulk’s presence at Ecry, Roscher, Papst Innocenz III, 65. 20 Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust”’, passim.

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prohibited by Innocent II at the Council of Clermont in 1130, and later the Second Lateran Council in 1139 (c. 14), the Council of Rheims in 1148 (c. 12), and the Third Lateran Council in 1179 (c. 20) as being detrimental to the crusade.21 As it turned out, however, tournaments might also be useful occasions to address, recruit, and assemble the very fighting men whom Innocent needed. Now in November 1198, there was a tournament that assembled enough fighting men in one place to witness the Cross-taking of the counts that in Villehardouin’s narrative it virtually launched a crusade. But there was some stage-managing behind the scenes, where, whether Villehardouin knew or cared about it, operated the Innocentian network. We must read the opening chapters of Villehardouin more carefully. Preaching, privileges, and legatine supervision were two components of the new vision of crusade. Liturgy was a third, not only the fully developed liturgy of an individual’s actually taking the Cross and making the vow, but the intercessory liturgy instituted by Innocent in Rome in 1198 and later spread to other parts of Christian Europe.22 Liturgy could also be punitive. In a detailed letter to the prelates of France in April–May 1200, Innocent also excepted crusaders from the exclusions from liturgy entailed by the interdict: ‘You should make this possible without the ringing of bells and by celebrating in a quiet voice, having excluded all others who are not crusaders’. Conversely, the pope also imposed a kind of travelling interdict, prohibiting the conduct of liturgical services in the presence of excommunicated crusade vow-breakers wherever they went.23 Innocent also permitted the imposition of formal excommunication and anathema with bell, book, and candles and oral denunciation in a later letter to Hubert Walter.24 21 I.S. Robinson, The Papacy, 1073–1198: continuity and innovation (Cambridge, 1990), 136 n. 95; COD, 200, 221 (citing Innocent II and Eugenius III). There is a useful discussion in J. Bumke, Courtly Culture: literature and society in the High Middle Ages, trans. T. Dunlap (Berkeley–Los Angeles CA, 1991), 271–3, 295. Bumke cites Oliver of Paderborn in 1215 preaching at a tournament site where he had prevented a tournament from being held and turning many of the participants into crusaders. But in spite of papal, conciliar, and homiletic (including Jacques de Vitry’s) condemnation, it seems that the best that could be expected was a liturgical ‘closed season’ on tournaments from Ash Wednesday to the Monday following Easter Week, and the prohibition of tournaments on Fridays, Sundays, and Holy Days that fell during the week, perhaps deriving from the earlier Truce of God. The letter of Hugh of St Pol (Andrea, Contemporary Sources, 177–201) speaks of the crusade as ‘the Lord’s tournament’. There are brief discussions in M. Keen, Chivalry (New Haven CT, 1984), 83–101, and D. Crouch, Tournament (London, 2005), 33–5. The term ‘closed season’ is that of Crouch. See also below, n. 27. 22 Texts and discussion in Crusade and Christendom, 42–7, 82–5. 23 Gesta Inn. III, 131–9 (ch. 84), at 136. 24 Below, nn. 27-9.

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Also inventive and daring, as James Powell noted, was finance, perhaps the least stable and most open to misuse and criticism of all the new crusade components. The collection and expenditure of funds, the invocation of the great crusading cause to acquire them, and the impossibility of keeping accurate track of all of them and justly distributing them, became ready targets for moral and other critics. Finance long remained the great problem of crusade economic and moral history. Once recruited (and perhaps funded), the crusading army had to be organized and directed. Again Villehardouin offers a lean narrative that conceals some interesting and quite novel events. Following the catalogue of crusading princes and poets in chapters three through ten, Villehardouin describes vaguely the early and unsatisfactory meeting of the barons at Soissons in 1200 in chapter eleven and the strikingly more successful one at Compiègne a few months later, on which occasion the counts of Champagne/ Brie, Blois, and Flanders/Hainaut appointed two envoys each to negotiate in their names and with full powers of representation (chapter twelve) inscribed in charters, not only for transportation, but apparently to manage the entire crusade preparations. Villehardouin’s narrative flows so smoothly here that it is easy to miss the novelty of what happened at Compiègne. It may be worth suggesting that the early frustration at Soissons inspired someone with legal knowledge to suggest to the counts the use of the relatively novel doctrine of plena potestas and legal representation, libera administratio ad causas et negotia, to manage the crusade planning, studied elegantly some time ago in a slightly different context by Gaines Post.25 It is not necessary to suggest that it was necessarily someone instructed to do so by Innocent, but it was surely someone – perhaps Petrus Capuanus – who knew some recent law and how to find a way out of the barons’ dilemma. Innocent certainly seems to have known quickly of and approved the delegation arrangement. And the barons bound themselves tightly – they gave their plenipotentiaries charters with seals that conveyed full legal power to commit to the crusade, but only on the barons’ liability, not any collective crusade authority, and the barons never denied the validity of what they had done, even when the financial consequences of their action proved utterly disastrous. Even the Venetians expressed some surprise 25 G. Post, Studies in Medieval Legal Thought: public law and the state, 1100–1322 (Princeton NJ, 1964), 91–162. Post cites (105) the plain povir de faire toutes choses autretant con li seignor of Villehardouin, but he does not point out the advice they must have had since Soissons that enabled them to do it. He also points out that the nuntii represented only the counts of Champagne, Flanders, and Blois – ‘it was not corporate representation’. What the Gesta later terms the societas consisted of the three counts and the Venetians.

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when the envoys explained their purpose and offered their credentials. Queller and Madden point out that the Venetian agreement to the proposal launched ‘the largest state project in Western Europe since the Romans’, what the author of the Gesta calls technically and legally the societas of Venetians and the three counts.26 The delegation of comital negotiating authority to the envoys seems also to be the largest delegation of financial authority in European history until that date. Preaching, privileges, legatine and provincial organization, liturgy, finance (and who bore the costs and how and to whom the money was distributed), and current law concerning representatives with credentials and plena potestas were already in place by 1200. Innocent and his circle used all of them. The prelates, preachers, and legates not only had to recruit new crusaders, but also to round up and send off those who had taken the crusade vow but never fulfilled it. In April 1199, Innocent wrote to Petrus Capuanus noting that some who had claimed to have been dispensed from their vows by Celestine III and had insisted that their dispensations were valid were to be investigated carefully.27 He also made extremely fine distinctions on the topic in his letter to Hubert Walter in 1200.28 And he had a specific destination for them. In their great calendar of the letters of Innocent to England, Christopher and Mary Cheney log the letter Iustus et misericors, written to the prelates of England in early May 1201, commanding them to compel reluctant oath-breaking crusaders in their provinces and dioceses specifically to join the armies of the counts of Flanders, Champagne, and Blois and to investigate very carefully any alleged earlier papal dispensations, just as he had written to Petrus Capuanus and Hubert Walter earlier, but now in somewhat more precise detail: Since many, as we have heard and with grief we mention it, have gone back and laid aside the sign of the Cross … if they do not return to perform that which they vowed, we do by these Apostolic writings strictly command and enjoin your brotherhood, all indulgences to the contrary 26 Gesta Inn. III, 131–3 (ch. 83). 27 In his long letter to the prelates of France (Gesta Inn. III, 133–9 [ch. 84]; Potthast, i, 97 no. 1045) in April–May 1200, Innocent also speaks of alleged indulgences that were being used to claim exemption from crusade vows. This letter contains a number of themes, including the prohibition of organizing tournaments for five years, that were also included in the letter Iustus et misericors of 1201, for which see n. 29. See also Cheney, Innocent III and England, 249–53 for Innocent’s response to Hubert Walter on the subject (especially 253–6 on the political aspect of crusade deferments and King John) and Crusade and Christendom, 47–51. 28 Crusade and Christendom, 47–52; C.R. Cheney, Hubert Walter (London, 1967), 127–30.

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notwithstanding (in case it should appear that they have surreptitiously obtained any of these from our predecessors), that you are to compel all such men to assume the sign of the Cross after giving due warning, by means of a sentence of excommunication and interdict, all right of appeal being withdrawn. You shall announce the names of those of whom you have knowledge now or later on each Lord’s Day and on feast days, with bells tolling and candles lit, denounce them as excommunicated, and forbid divine services to be celebrated in their presence wherever they shall come. You are also to warn strictly all who have received the sign of the Cross, and if it should be necessary to compel them by ecclesiastical rigour, at the time when our dearly beloved sons, those noble men the counts of Flanders, Champagne, and Blois, and the others, shall after prudent deliberation, by the advice of the wise, have determined during the ensuing summer [1202] to perform their intended pilgrimage, so that in the way that shall be considered to be the most conducive to the interests of the Holy Land, they may together offer their obedience to the Lord.29

The letter is not in any register, nor in the Gesta nor in Villehardouin, but it is in the chronicle of Roger of Howden, and it makes a final point – Innocent was kept aware of the technical arrangements in France, Flanders, Venice, and England, of the timing of the crusaders’ departure, and of other details within his own power to aid their cause. The last sentence above may be an oblique reference to the Egyptian goal of part of the expedition. 29 All translations are the author’s own, unless otherwise indicated. See Roger of Howden, Chronica, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols (London, 1868-71), iv, 165–7, at 166: ‘Quia vero multi, sicut accepimus, et referimus cum moerore, abeuntes retro, crucis deposuere signaculum … si non reddiderint quod voverint, fraternitati vestrae per apostolica scripta mandamus, et districte praecipimus, quatenus eis indulgentia non obstante, siqua forsan a praedecessoribus nostris apparuerit per surreptionem obtenta, ut crucis signum recipiant, monitione praemissa, per excommunicationis et interdicti sententiam appellation posposita compellatis, facientes eos singulis Dominicis diebus et festivis, pulsates campanis et candelis accensis, expressis nominibus de quibus habetis vel habebitis notitiam, excommunicatos public nunciari, et quocunque devenerint, official celebrari Divina, eis praesentibus, prohibentes. Universos autem, qui crucis signaculum acceperunt, moneatis attentius, et si necesse fuerit, per districtionem ecclesiasticam compellatis, ut ad terminum quem dilecti filii, nobiles viri Flandrensis, Campanensis, Blesensis comites cum aliis deliberatio provida de sapientium consilio praefixerint, in aestate future peregrinationis propositum exsequatur, ut, sicut Terrae Sanctae magis expedire dinoscitur, obsequium Suum Domino simul omnes impendant’. See also C.R. and M.C. Cheney, The Letters of Pope Innocent III (1198–1216) Concerning England and Wales: a calendar with an appendix of texts (Oxford, 1967), 52 no. 318.

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Innocent’s linking of crusade and moral reform was one side of his highly original approach to the Fourth Crusade. The other, too important to neglect (to coin a phrase), was the practical problem (Roscher’s ‘concrete plan’) of getting a new kind of military expedition assembled, adequately financed, and moving and ambitiously sending it simultaneously by sea in two directions – Egypt (where the truce did not apply) and Syria – and attending very carefully to its management, control, and conduct. And both sets of concerns as well as other points that I have noted here, did not always leave as clear a record in the surviving sources as did the later misdirections and disasters. About the author: Edward Peters, University of Pennsylvania (Emeritus)

7.

The Preacher and the Pope: Jacques de Vitry and Honorius III at the time of the Fifth Crusade (1216–27) Jan Vandeburie*

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch07 Abstract This contribution focuses on the hitherto neglected interaction between Jacques de Vitry, bishop of Acre between 1216 and 1229, and Pope Honorius III. Whilst Jacques’s letters from the East addressed to Honorius have been discussed extensively by scholars, the reports of Jacques’s activities in the Latin East have not yet been linked to Honorius III’s decision-making. By looking at the papal correspondence with the Latin Church off icials of Outremer, and the letters addressed to the bishop of Acre in particular, it is possible to reconstruct at least some of the interaction between the preacher and the pope. I intend to show that Jacques served as a key envoy in the East, actively reporting on the situation there to Honorius III while representing the papal interests among the religious and lay leaders in the Latin East and on the Fifth Crusade. Keywords: Jacques de Vitry, Honorius III, episcopal letters, Fifth Crusade

* I am grateful to the School of History and Faculty of Humanities of the University of Kent for the travel grant enabling me to participate in the sessions in honour of James Powell at the Medieval Congresses at Kalamazoo and Leeds. I am also greatly indebted to Barbara Bombi, Brenda Bolton, Jessalynn Bird, Bernard Hamilton, and Thomas W. Smith for their invaluable comments and suggestions during different stages of this research. All translations in the article are the author’s own, unless otherwise indicated.

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Introduction On 17 July 1216 the Champenois crusade preacher, Jacques de Vitry, reached Perugia expecting that Innocent III would confirm his appointment as bishop of Acre. Jacques arrived, however, only to find that Innocent had died the previous day. Gazing upon his almost naked and decomposing body (‘corpus fere nudum et fetidum’), Jacques contemplated the brevity and treacherous vainglory of the world.1 With these words, Jacques alluded to the words frequently used by Innocent himself, and revealed his admiration for the late pope.2 Unexpectedly, however, it was Innocent’s successor, Honorius III, who confirmed Jacques’s appointment and sent him eastwards. Although Honorius’s pontificate has traditionally been regarded as ‘simply an echo of that of his great predecessor’3 and while Innocent III certainly has received the most scholarly attention in the past few decades, Powell’s work 4 and recent research by Smith5 and Claverie 6 on Honorius III and the Latin East has provided convincing evidence, not only for an active continuation of Innocent’s reform and crusade agenda, but also for Honorius’s own responsive decision-making and how his policies were generated from a close interaction with legates and nuntii. This contribution focuses on the hitherto neglected interaction between Jacques de Vitry and Honorius III. Whilst Jacques’s letters addressed to Honorius have been discussed extensively by scholars,7 the reports of Jacques’s activities in the Latin East have not yet been linked to Honorius III’s decision-making. Jean Longère only followed previous historians when 1 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 73–4 (ep. 1), ‘Ego autem ecclesiam intravi et oculata fide cognovi quam brevis sit et vana huius seculi fallax gloria’. 2 J.C. Moore, Pope Innocent III (1160/61–1216): to root up and to plant (Notre Dame IN, 2009), 288. 3 H.K. Mann, The Lives of the Popes in the Middle Ages, 19 vols (London, 1902–32), xiii, 20. 4 See especially: Powell, Anatomy; J.M. Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus: some evidence of Honorius III’s use of the sermons of Pope Innocent III’, Speculum, 52 (1977), 522–37; Powell, ‘Honorius III and the Leadership of the Crusade’, The Catholic Historical Review, 63 (1977), 521–36. 5 T.W. Smith, ‘Pope Honorius III and the Holy Land Crusades, 1216–1227: a study in responsive papal government’, unpublished doctoral thesis, Royal Holloway, University of London, 2013, 325. See also T.W. Smith, ‘Honorius III and the Crusade: responsive papal government versus the memory of his predecessors’, in The Church on its Past, ed. P.D. Clarke and C. Methuen, SCH, 29 (Woodbridge, 2013), 99–109. 6 P.-V. Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient (1216–1227): étude et publication de sources inédites des Archives Vaticanes (ASV) (Leiden, 2013). 7 At least fourteen manuscripts of Jacques de Vitry’s letters are extant, as reported by Huygens’s edition, and reprinted in Serta mediaevalia: textus varii saeculorum X–XIII: Tractatus et epistolae, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, CCCM, 171 (Turnhout, 2000).

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he stated that Jacques’s letters did not belong to the official correspondence with the Apostolic See, that they left no traces in the registers, and that there are no registered responses by Honorius. However, one ought to consider the fragmentary nature of the papal registers at the time of Honorius III. The copying of the outgoing papal letters into the registers was not done systematically and partly depended on whether petitioners were willing to pay the high registration fees.8 Although letters deemed important by the papacy were registered, this merely gives us an impression of the priorities at the time and does not guarantee the registration of all letters. Nevertheless, looking at the papal correspondence with the Latin Church officials of Outremer, and the letters addressed to the bishop of Acre in particular, it is possible to reconstruct at least some of the interaction between the preacher and the pope in order to extrapolate information on Jacques’s role in the East. It must be noted that one should also be careful with attaching Jacques’s personal sentiments to his letters. Just as papal letters were carefully crafted by the papal chancery and cannot be said to accurately reflect the thoughts of the pope himself, similarly, Jacques’s letters ought to be considered with a certain dose of criticism. Despite being addressed to the pope, as well as to friends and acquaintances, their early widespread circulation and manuscript copies give an indication of a less private purpose.9 Like Jacques’s sermons, his letters were carefully edited and have an evident agenda. The fitting biblical quotations and the numerous parallels with Jacques’s propagandistic Historia Orientalis, Historia Occidentalis, and model sermons are no coincidence. Moreover, Jacques seems to have made use of his own personal chancery. He travelled with an extensive entourage, and among his staff we can identify at least two persons who served as Jacques’s clerks: a certain lord Reinier, who became pastor of St Michael in Acre after serving Jacques and who died during the siege of Damietta in 1218,10 and Colinus Angelicus, who joined the Franciscans during the campaign.11 8 Smith, Honorius III, 34–5; J.E. Sayers, Papal Government and England during the Pontificate of Honorius III (1216–1227) (Cambridge, 1984), 51 and 71. Sayers estimated that only one quarter of the papal letters during Honorius III’s pontificate were registered. For the practice under Innocent III, see Selected Letters of Pope Innocent III concerning England, ed. C.R. Cheney and W.H. Semple, NMT (London, 1953), xxix. 9 Unlike Huygens (J. de Vitry, Lettres, 47), who did not see the letters as official documents: ‘ce n’est pas l’évêque qui parle, c’est l’ami qui raconte’. 10 J. de Vitry, Lettres, ep. 4. However, this lord Reinier seems to be mentioned again in ep. 6 as he joined the Franciscans as well. 11 J. de Vitry, Lettres, ep. 6.

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Jacques was appointed to the see of Acre by Innocent III as one of the pope’s inner circle.12 In this essay, I intend to show that Jacques served as a key envoy in the East, actively communicating with the papal Curia and reporting on the situation there to Honorius III while representing the papal interests among the religious and lay leaders in the Latin East and on the Fifth Crusade. Although claiming that Jacques was the most important of Honorius’s contacts in the Latin East would be going too far, a close investigation of his interaction with the pope will demonstrate his importance to Honorius – hitherto underestimated by scholars – and will contribute to the broader discussion of the papacy’s use of legates and envoys in the first half of the thirteenth century.

The First Encounter Jacques de Vitry, born in Vitry-en-Perthois between c.1160 and c.1170, was of the same generation of Innocent III (b. 1160/1).13 Both men had studied under Peter the Chanter in Paris, and were part of Peter’s influential circle of theologians who provided the framework for the reforms of the Fourth 12 See B. Bolton, ‘“Serpent in the Dust: Sparrow on the Housetop”: attitudes to Jerusalem and the Holy Land in the Circle of Pope Innocent III’, in The Holy Land, Holy Lands and Christian History, ed. R.N. Swanson, SCH, 36 (Woodbridge, 2000), 154–80. 13 The seminal P. Funk, Jakob von Vitry: Leben und Werke (Leipzig, 1909) is until today the most comprehensive biography of Jacques de Vitry. Noteworthy corrections and additions to Funk have been provided by J.F. Benton, ‘Qui étaient les parents de Jacques de Vitry?’, Le Moyen Âge, 70 (1964), 39–47; E.W. McDonnell, The Beguines and Beghards in Medieval Culture: with special emphasis on the Belgian scene (New York, 1969), 20–39, and J. Donnadieu, ‘Entre sentiment et ambition: les réseaux de Jacques de Vitry au miroir du Supplementum ad Vitam Mariae Oignacensis de Thomas de Cantimpré’, in Vivre en société au Moyen Âge: Occident chrétien VIe–XVe siècle, ed. C. Carozzi, et al. (Aix-en-Provence, 2008), 133–50. The best recent biographical overviews are The ‘Historia Occidentalis’ of Jacques de Vitry: a critical edition, ed. J.F. Hinnebusch (Fribourg, 1972), 3–15; A. Paravicini Bagliani, Cardinali di curia e ‘familiae’ cardinalizie. Dal 1227 al 1254, 2 vols (Padua, 1972), i, 99–112; ‘The “Sermones Feriales” of Jacques de Vitry: a critical edition’, ed. C.A. Muessig, unpublished PhD thesis, Université de Montréal, 1993, 1–15; M. Sandor, ‘The Popular Preaching of Jacques de Vitry’, unpublished PhD thesis, University of Toronto, 1993, 22–155 and eadem, ‘Jacques de Vitry – Biography’, in De l’homélie au sermon, ed. J. Hamesse and X. Hermand (Louvain-la-Neuve, 1993), 53–9; J. Longère, ‘Jacques de Vitry – La vie et les oeuvres’, in Jacques de Vitry, Histoire Occidentale = Historia Occidentalis, ed. and trans. G. Duchet-Suchaux (Paris, 1997), 7–49; I. Schöndorfer, Orient und Okzident nach den Hauptwerken des Jakob von Vitry (Frankfurt am Main, 1997), 11–34; Jacques de Vitry, Histoire Orientale, ed. and trans. M.-G. Grossel (Paris, 2005), 7–22; and recently Iacobi de Vitriaco sermones vulgares vel ad status, ed. J. Longère, i (Turnhout, 2013), vii–xiv (biography) and xv–lxi (works).

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Lateran Council of 1215.14 Jacques built a notable reputation as preacher for the Albigensian Crusade in the French Midi and Étienne de Bourbon wrote that he moved the whole of France unlike anyone before or after him.15 In the wake of the Fourth Lateran Council, Innocent III, undoubtedly influenced by Jacques’s reputation as preacher, appointed him as bishop of Acre, since 1192 the capital of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem.16 Although the chronicle of Ernoul mentions that the canons of Acre elected Jacques and petitioned Innocent III to send him to the Holy Land as their bishop, it is evident from Jacques’s experience and reputation as crusade and reform preacher that the intentions behind his election, both from the perspective of the papacy and of the clergy in the crumbling crusader kingdom, went far beyond the regular episcopal duties in Acre. The day after Jacques’s arrival in Perugia, on 18 July, the papal Curia elected Cardinal Cencio Camerarius17 as the new pope. Jacques was present at Cencio’s consecration as Honorius III on 24 July and was himself consecrated as bishop of Acre on 31 July. Despite his criticism on the overly temporal rather than spiritual concerns of the papal Curia,18 Jacques immediately showed a fondness for the newly elected pope. Jacques described Honorius as a good and religious old man of great simplicity and kindness.19 One might indeed expect that Jacques and Honorius would get along less well given the many differences in their background and upbringing. Although Jacques must have been close to 50 years old in 1216, he still described Honorius as an old man (senex). Indeed, born in the 1150s or 1160s, the new pope belonged to a slightly older generation and was ten to twenty years older 14 See J.L. Bird, ‘Heresy, Crusade and Reform in the Circle of Peter the Chanter, c.1187– c.1240’, unpublished D.Phil. thesis, University of Oxford, 2001. 15 Étienne de Bourbon, Tractatus de diversiis materiis praedicabilibus / Septem dona Spiritus Sancti, in Scriptores Ordinis Praedicatorum, ed. J. Quétif (Paris, 1719), i, 185–6: ‘Vir sanctus et litteratus […] praedicando per regnium Franciae et utens exemplis in sermonibus suis, adeo totam commovit Franciam, quod non putat memoria aliquem ante vel post sic movisse’. 16 Chronique d’Ernoul et de Bernard le Trésorier, ed. L. De Mas Latrie (Paris, 1871), 410: ‘Il ot en France un bon cler, qui preeça de le crois, qui ot à un maistres Jakes de Viteri. Cil en croisa moult, là où il estoit en predication. L’eslirent li canonne d’Acre et mandarent à l’apostole qu’il lor envoiast por lui faire evesque’. 17 Although commonly referred to as Cencio Savelli, he was the son of Aimerico da Sabello and it is unlikely he was related to the Savelli family: S. Carocci and M. Vendittelli, ‘Onorio III.’, in Enciclopedia dei papi, ed. M. Simonetti et al., 3 vols (Rome, 2000), ii, 350–62, at 350–1; W. Maleczek, Papst und Kardinalskolleg von 1191 bis 1216: Die Kardinäle unter Coelestin III. und Innocenz III. (Vienna, 1984), 111–12. 18 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 75 (ep. 1): ‘adeo enim circa secularia et temporalia, circa reges et regna, circa lites et iurgia occupati erant, quod vix de spiritualibus aliquid loqui permittebant’. 19 Ibid., 74: ‘Honorium, bonum senem et religiosum, simplicem valde et benignum’.

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than Jacques.20 Moreover, Honorius had not been educated at Paris, as were Jacques and Innocent III, but rose through the ecclesiastical ranks in Rome. Yet, pastoral care was high on Honorius’s agenda and he certainly shared the same ideals as the Parisian reformers, albeit with a different approach than his predecessor. Powell rightly pointed out that ‘whereas Innocent stressed obedience as a fundamental characteristic of the Pastor bonus and thereby showed his concern for the role of the institution as the agent of reform, Honorius placed major emphasis on commitment to the pastoral ministry’. 21 Although Honorius certainly recognized his predecessor’s achievements, he did not feel intimidated by them; Honorius’s approach to papal rule was indeed different from Innocent’s, but the goal of liberating the Holy Land was shared by both popes. At Perugia, on 25 July 1216, Honorius reassured King John of Brienne and the Latin clergy of Outremer that even though his capabilities may have seemed inferior to those of his predecessor, Innocent III, he promised manfully and wisely to continue the aid to the Holy Land and to ensure its preservation.22 Despite the unlikely match, Honorius did not just confirm Jacques’s appointment (already made by Innocent), but clearly took the time to groom the new bishop for his mission in the East. Jacques wrote that the pope was very familiar and caring towards him (familiariter et benigne) and that Jacques was allowed to see him any time he wanted. Jacques’s primary role as preacher in the East is evident when Honorius granted him the privilege to preach by papal authority anywhere in the West or the East.23 Yet, Jacques had been hoping for more already during Innocent III’s pontificate. Displeased with the resistance of the French bishops against his and Robert de Courson’s practice of signing anybody with the Cross and the bishops’ ill-treatment of the crucesignatos, Jacques saw his consecration as an opportunity to present his case to Innocent III and ask for special powers as defensor crucesignatorum in France to protect the rights of those under crusading vows.24 The end of 20 T.W. Smith, ‘The College of Cardinals under Honorius III: a nepotistic household?’, in Religion and the Household, ed. J. Doran, et al., SCH, 50 (Woodbridge, 2014), 76; Sayers, Papal Government, 1. 21 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 532. 22 ASV, Reg. Vat. 9/1, fol. 1r, ep. 1: ‘Non ergo propter obitum prefati predecessoris nostri consternatur cor tuum, neque formidet, quasi propter hoc Terre Sancte impediatur succursus, quoniam et si illius sufficientie nostra videatur inferior, ad liberationem tamen ipsius votis non minoribus aspiramus’. 23 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 74 (ep. 1). 24 For an in-depth discussion of this conflict, see C. Dickson, ‘Le cardinal Robert de Courson: sa vie’, Archives d’histoire doctrinale et littéraire du Moyen Âge, 9 (1934), 112–13; B. Bolton, ‘Faithful to whom? Jacques de Vitry and the French Bishops’, Revue Mabillon, 70 (1998), 53–72; and Moore, Pope Innocent III, 225–6.

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Robert de Courson’s term as legate preaching the Cross in France may have led Jacques to expect that he would be appointed as the new legate. Although there is no evidence for Innocent III considering this, at least Gervase of Chichester, head of the order of Prémontré, assumed as much.25 Innocent III, however, had made no such decision and his successor was evidently reluctant to oppose the French bishops this early in his pontificate. Yet, influenced by prelates aspiring for the legation of France, at least according to Jacques, Honorius had already granted the ‘defence’ of the crusaders to the French bishops.26 Although Jacques had no choice but to take up residency in Acre, he stressed that without guarantees concerning the protection of those he signed with the Cross, he would not leave for the Holy Land.27 In what can be seen as a quid pro quo, Honorius III’s informal approval of the Beguines at the meeting in 1216, assuring Jacques that the mulieres sanctae were allowed to live in the same house and encourage each other in their pious life, not only in Liège, but in the entire Kingdom of France and the German Empire,28 may have been a way for the pope to gain the loyalty of Jacques. Although in the letter of November 1216 Jacques wrote he had received letters of intent (cum executoribus et protectoribus), there was no official registration of any such approval in the papal registers.29 Not until 1230–3 do we find the first official records of the papal chancery regarding the Beguines and Gregory IX’s formal approval of their order, undoubtedly at the instigation of Jacques in his role as cardinal-bishop of Tusculum. The (informal) endorsement of the early Beguines appears not to be the only favour granted to Jacques by Honorius. On 9 February 1217, a few months after Jacques’s arrival in Acre, Honorius officially confirmed his papal protection over the Notre-Dame chapter in Jacques’s birthplace Vitry-en-Perthois.30 The foundation of this chapter in 1212 was part of the 25 RHGF, xix, 619: ‘Sperabam autem quod id maxime deberet f ieri per virum venerabilem magistrum Jacobum Acconensem clericum, cujus in Franciam ob idipsum de die in diem reditum expectabam’. 26 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 74 (ep. 1): ‘unde, quia in prelatis in regno Francie commissa fuerat crucesignatorum defensio, noluit michi dare specialem potestatem ut eos defendere valerem. Hoc autem fecit, ut dicitur, quorundam consilio, qui ad legationem regni Francie aspirabat’. 27 Ibid. See also J.L. Bird, ‘Crusaders’ Rights Revisited: the use and abuse of crusader privileges in early thirteenth-century France’, in Law and the Illicit in Medieval Europe, ed. R.M. Karras, et al., (Philadelphia PA, 2008), 133–48. 28 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 74 (ep. 1). 29 It must be noted that few letters were registered at the time since petitioners had to pay for the registration. 30 A. Baudin, ‘Vitry-en-Perthois au Moyen Âge ou la mutation inachevée d’un bourg castral champenois’, Mémoires de la S.S.A.V.L.F., 41 (2005), 16, 26–7, 44–6.

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wider wave of foundations and reorganizations of religious houses in the early thirteenth century in which Jacques’s close associates Jean de Nivelles and Hugues de Pierrepont were also involved. One might well ask how Jacques, who had to work as a parish priest to pay for his studies in Paris, could afford the rent for a new boat, costing 3,000 livres to make, with no less than five cabins for him and his entourage and enough wine, meat, and other provisions for three months. It seems likely that the papal treasury funded Jacques’s comfortable crossing.

Jacques’s Role as Bishop of Acre In his first letter, dated 4 November 1216 and seemingly not addressed to anyone in particular, Jacques pondered upon his newly given task as bishop of Acre and considered the words of the apostle Paul identifying the qualities a good bishop must have. A bishop, he noted, ought to be unblemished, self-controlled, prudent, decent, hospitable, a good teacher, not a drunk or a fighter, modest, not quarrelsome or greedy, and ‘a good provost of his house’.31 Jacques seemed worried about the task at hand and did not want to be like a ‘monkey on the roof’, a bishop on his throne, devoid of meaning. His zeal for the mission was evident when, before crossing the Mediterranean, Jacques had already occupied himself with the pastoral care of the flock of his diocese of Acre, as well as with preaching to the rest of the crusaders waiting to embark. After successfully preaching the Cross to the inhabitants of Genoa and convincing many of them to take crusading vows, Jacques took to the sea during the first days of October 1216. Jacques’s second letter, of which one copy was addressed to the Paris masters and another copy to Lutgard of St Trond of the Cistercian convent of Aywières, was written between November 1216 and the spring of 1217. In the letter Jacques informed the readers of how, after a perilous sea journey of five weeks, he found the city of Acre like a nine-headed monster, with the different groups of Christians and the sinful Latin nations fighting each other. Jacques immediately and enthusiastically extended his preaching efforts far beyond his own episcopal responsibilities and went on a preaching tour of the cities, towns, and strongholds still in the possession or under the control of the Latins.32 Whenever he could, Jacques also tried his utmost to address, through interpreters, the eastern Christians and 31 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 71–2 (ep. 1). Jacques paraphrases 1 Tim. 3: 2–7. 32 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 83–94 (ep. 2).

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even Muslim communities.33 He took his episcopal and pastoral role in Acre most seriously as is also evident from his daily schedule. After the morning Mass he would hear confessions until after midday, followed by visits to the sick until None or Vespers, and hearing pleas from orphans, widows, and other people who had received injustice, something he found most upsetting. Jacques complained about his loss of appetite since his arrival and the lack of time for leisure and reading. He noted how he only had time for prayer and contemplation in the dead of night.34 Jacques and Honorius III had indeed very similar views on the importance of pastoral care. Jacques’s concerns regarding the reform of the eastern Christians, the conversion of the Muslims, and, most importantly, the cura animarum of the Latin Christians and especially of his flock at Acre, are the same concerns advocated by Honorius who noted that a pastor should watch over his flock at night.35 Jacques’s intensive efforts appeared difficult to maintain, and already in these first months he showed signs of weariness. Aside from struggling with a loss of appetite, Jacques mentioned moments when he was so upset that he had time neither for prayer nor for the consideration of his weakness, and asked his friends to pray for him so he would be able to endure his suffering.36

On the Fifth Crusade Jacques’s participation in the Fifth Crusade did not lessen his zeal and his letters from Damietta testify that he was as dedicated to a successful outcome of the crusade as he was to the care of his flock. Jacques joined the army when the crusaders embarked to Egypt in May 1218. While preaching to the crusaders and continuing his attempts to convert Muslims, Jacques kept Honorius informed of the army’s progress and made sure to emphasize his and his close companions’ role in the endeavour. Jacques’s third letter, 33 See also J.L. Bird, ‘Crusade and Conversion after the Fourth Lateran Council: Jacques de Vitry’s and Oliver of Paderborn’s missions to Muslims reconsidered’, in Essays in Medieval Studies: proceedings of the Illinois Medieval Association, 21 (2004), 23–47; B.Z. Kedar, Crusade and Mission: European approaches toward the Muslims (Princeton, 1984), 116–35. 34 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 90 (ep. 2). 35 Hon. III opera, i, 917: ‘Pastor Ecclesiae debet vigilare vigilias noctis super gregem, id est, debet esse sollicitus et intentus, ut moneat et corrigat subditos suos, et annuntiet populo sibi commisso scelera eorum et pericula, et tribulationes hujus mundi ’. Translation from Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 532. 36 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 90, 97 (ep. 2).

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dated 24 August 1218 and containing a first report of the events on the Fifth Crusade, seems to resemble the report of fellow crusade preacher and leader of the German and Frisian contingents, Oliver of Paderborn, regarding the expedition against the fortress of Mount Tabor, written in August 1218 and addressed to the clergy in the province of Cologne.37 Considering the style and contents of these two reports,38 I believe that Jacques’s supposed third letter is in fact an abbreviated version of Oliver’s report intended for Honorius.39 This abridged report likely ended up among the manuscript tradition of Jacques’s letters, and a heading and closing was added later, causing the confusion. Jacques’s own report, dated the following month, describes the same events and it is therefore unlikely Jacques wrote both. The two reports, regardless of their relation, are representative of the sort of reports that Honorius would have received over the course of the campaign. That Honorius had already received several reports prior to receiving this ‘third’ letter is evident from the pope’s letter on 13 August 1218, in which Honorius told the crusade leaders at Damietta that he had received their correspondence and sent the crusaders’ plea for support to the contingents of crusaders assembled at Venice, Genoa, and other Italian ports. 40 The crucesignati at Genoa were under the spiritual command of Robert de Courson who would arrive on the first day of September41 together with, we can assume, Honorius’s letter. On 22 September 1218, Jacques reported the events and explained the reasoning behind the attack on Egypt. The letter resembles one that the masters of the military orders had sent to Honorius in July. 42 That Jacques felt the need to justify the attack on Egypt may reflect Honorius’s approach of giving the initiative to the crusader leaders and legates on the ground and granting them the freedom to anticipate the situation in the field and make their decisions accordingly.43 In the absence 37 Oliver of Paderborn, ed. Hoogeweg, 288–95, ep. 3. See also J.P. Donovan, Pelagius and the Fifth Crusade (Philadelphia PA, 1950), 34 and J. Prawer, Histoire du royaume latin de Jérusalem (Paris, 1970), ii, 136–40. 38 Barber and Bate also noted the unusual brevity and the lack of biblical quotations in this letter. See Letters from the East: crusaders, pilgrims and settlers in the 12th–13th centuries, trans. M. Barber and K. Bate, (Farnham, 2010), 108–9. 39 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 100 (ep. 3). 40 Reg. Hon. III, no. 1580: ‘receptis igitur litteris vestris et nuntiis … continuo Ianuam, Venetias ac per alios Italie portus litteras nostras direximus, crucesignatos qui ad portus ipsos convenerant’. 41 Epistolae selectae MGH, i, 54–6 no. 77, and Hon. III opera, ii, 832 no. 317. See also Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient, 52. 42 Epistolae selectae MGH, i, 55–6 no. 77. 43 See also Smith, Pope Honorius III, 326.

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of Pelagius, whom Honorius only appointed in the spring of 1218, it seems that Jacques and Oliver, alongside Patriarch Raoul of Merencourt, were the advocates of Innocent III’s crusading plans outlined in Ad liberandam, and represented the papal interests at the war councils held in Palestine and Egypt since the middle of Lent 1218. Seemingly, as far as the crusade leaders were concerned, there was little opposition to an attack on Egypt. While Jacques’s arguments for attacking Egypt show that he was a strong advocate of the plan, he himself credits Oliver of Paderborn with persuading the crusaders to go to Egypt. Oliver, in turn, merely stated that the plan made at the Lateran Council should be carried out. 44 Indeed, the crusade leaders, in a letter sent to Honorius from June 1218,45 interpreted the attack on Egypt as the fulfilment of the plan decreed at the Lateran Council. 46 Both Donovan 47 and Hoogeweg48 emphasized that Innocent had a plan to attack Egypt in 1199 and rebuked the Venetians in 1206 for not having taken Alexandria and Egypt which would have safeguarded the Holy Land (ac per hoc eripere Terram Sanctam). 49 Aside from reporting the Latin victories in Palestine as well as the destruction of Mount Tabor and the city of Gibelet by the Saracens, Jacques described the landing at Damietta early in July 1218 and the heroic efforts of Oliver’s Frisians, who contributed to the capture of the tower in the Nile on 24 August.50 Although Jacques’s report gives the impression that he accompanied the first contingents landing at Damietta, a letter from Honorius dated 10 July 1218 causes confusion and seems to suggest Jacques was still at Acre. This letter was in fact asking Jacques and the canons of Acre to oversee the bestowal of a prebend by Patriarch Raoul.51 This particular instance, however, like numerous others, reflects the delay in the communications between the papal Curia and the Levant. When Honorius’s 44 Oliver of Paderborn, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 175: ‘Tunc firmatum fuit consilium in concilio Lateranensi cum domino papa Innocentio bone recordationis habitum Rome de introducenda militia Christianorum in terram Egypti’. 45 Acta imperii, ii, 642–3 no. 934. 46 See also R. Röhricht, Studien zur Geschichte des Fünften Kreuzzuges (Innsbruck, 1891), 39–40. 47 Donovan, Pelagius, 37. 48 H. Hoogeweg, ‘Der Kreuzzug von Damiette 1218–1221’, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, 8 (1887), 192. 49 G.L.F. Tafel and G.M. Thomas, Urkunden zur älteren Handels- und Staatsgeschichte der Republik Venedig mit besonderer beziehung auf Byzanz und die Levante vom 9. bis zum ausgang des 15. Jahrhunderts herausgegeben (Vienna, 1856–7), ii, 28 (5 August 1206). 50 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 103–7 (ep. 4). See also Powell, Anatomy, 140–5 and Donovan, Pelagius, 42–3. 51 ASV, Reg. Vat. 9/2, fol. 282v, ep. 1273.

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letter was issued and registered on 10 July, the pope was still unaware of the landing at Damietta. Considering that Jacques’s crossing took five weeks, including a few interruptions, the average communication delay must have been around one month.52 Indeed, one month later, Honorius had been notified of the landing at Damietta and had informed the lay leaders and prelates in Egypt that he forwarded their message to the crusaders who were waiting to depart in the Italian ports. With this communication delay, the crucial role of papal representatives, whether official legates like Pelagius or designated nuntii like Robert de Courson and Jacques de Vitry, who were well aware of the papal objectives and able to make decisions on their own, becomes evident. In a letter to Pelagius, written shortly before the landing at Damietta, Honorius emphasized the executive power of his legatus a latere and confirmed that he had the authority to make decisions as he saw fit.53 Other reports may have already informed Honorius of Jacques’s presence with the army at Damietta, but a confirmation through Jacques’s own report of the events would have only reached Honorius in the second half of October at the earliest. Jacques pointed out that the messenger with the letter was already underway when he received further news which he wanted to include.54 Jacques added a report of the arrival of Pelagius with James of Andria at Acre in the middle of September. Both Robert de Courson and the legate Pelagius, a fellow student of Innocent III under Peter the Chanter, only arrived in Egypt in September 1218, making Jacques the sole representative of the Parisian school of reformers in the East between his arrival in 1216 and Oliver’s arrival in 1218. Likely, the same ships of Pietro Annibaldi that brought Pelagius to Damietta would have also brought back Jacques’s report to Honorius upon their return to Europe.55 Jacques provided a detailed report of the ongoing siege of Damietta in a letter written between April and September 1219. The actions by Pelagius’s ships and Jacques’s own cogs and men were especially emphasized to show Honorius that they did not only provide spiritual support. Jacques also 52 Donovan, Pelagius, 84 n. 84 gives examples that put the travel time between three and five weeks. See also J.H. Pryor, Geography, Technology, and War: studies in the maritime history of the Mediterranean, 649–1571 (Cambridge, 1988), 3, 36, 87, 117. 53 12 June 1218: ASV, Reg. Vat. 9/2, fol. 265r, ep. 1174. 54 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 109 (ep. 4a), ‘hiis autem litteris prescriptis et latore presentium festinante ceteros nuntios recepimus’. Jacques’s note raises some questions regarding the practicalities of recalling a messenger in order to add to the report and seems to show that the extant copies of Jacques’s letters are indeed edited from the originals. 55 Richard of San Germano, Chronica, MGH SS, xix, 339.

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described the disease-stricken crusader army and the devastating death of Robert de Courson on 2 February 1219.56 Ernoul’s comment upon Robert’s death provides a glimpse of some contemporaries blaming Pelagius for the failure of the crusade.57 Yet, Jacques’s writings remain positive regarding the legate and Jacques mentioned how Pelagius, the patriarch of Jerusalem, and the archbishops and bishops together with the entire clergy exhorted the army to fast and pray, and organized processions.58 When Jacques noted that a council was held with the clergy and the military, ‘great and small’, to agree on how to proceed, he appears to have been reassuring Honorius that both prelates and nobility were guiding the campaign and that, if Honorius did not directly control the campaign, at least his prayers did so spiritually (‘orationibus vestris cursum nostrum dirigentibus’). Aside from listing the knights who died, Jacques testified that the soldiers were getting weary and that the departures of many leaders and their contingents caused ill-feelings among the forces that remained. Although Claverie has argued that Jacques’s full list of departures helps us to put the criticized departure of King John into perspective, it also presented Honorius with an unsettling message. Jacques noted that after the departure of the Cypriot knights, they barely had four or five banners left. Similar reports of the events in August were sent to Honorius by Pelagius and by Rainier, the bishop of Bethlehem, also a preacher for the crusade.59 The capture of Damietta in November 1219 prompted Jacques to write another letter in March 1220 in which he provided an account of the victory for Honorius III.60 Jacques was particularly positive about Pelagius’s role in the capture of the city and described the legate as a prudent and far-sighted man.61 This praise for Pelagius is reiterated by Honorius in a letter from 27 July 1220.62 Like Oliver of Paderborn, Jacques was critical of many of the soldiers in the army who he describes as thieves and miscreants and ‘pilgrims in name only’ who refused to listen to Pelagius.63 Jacques’s role as spiritual leader is again made clear when he mentions his presence at the side of Pelagius and the patriarch carrying the True Cross.64 56 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 116 (ep. 5). 57 Chronique d’Ernoul, 416–17 and Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient, 55–6. 58 See also Donovan, Pelagius, 51–2. 59 Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient, 47 and 57. 60 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 124 (ep. 6). 61 Ibid., 125–6 (ep. 6). 62 See Donovan, Pelagius, 64–5, n. 141; Smith, Pope Honorius III, 257–8. 63 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 127 (ep. 6). 64 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 130 (ep. 6).

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Despite the victory at Damietta, the campaign had clearly taken its toll on Jacques and, when emphasizing the many dead, he appeared rather discouraged as he found himself weak and downhearted and wished to end his life in peace and quiet.65 Moreover, while at Damietta, Jacques seemed to have difficulties controlling matters in his bishopric. On 23 March 1221, in an answer to a petition by Jacques, Honorius charged Eustorgius, archbishop of Nicosia, and Rainier, bishop of Bethlehem, to investigate an accusation of power abuse by Peter, archbishop of Caesarea, who expelled a certain canon Anselm from the Holy Cross cathedral at Acre during Jacques’s absence.66 Only a few days later, on 28 March, Honorius reprimanded the clergy and prelates of the Italian communes at Acre, and commanded them to recognize the episcopal authority of Jacques or face disciplinary sanctions by the archbishop of Nicosia and the bishop of Bethlehem.67 Upon his arrival in Acre in 1216, Jacques had found the Italian communes appointing their own chaplains in their chapels and ignoring sentences of excommunication. Although Jacques claimed he succeeded in bringing the Italians back under his authority, the Genoese, Pisans, and Venetians would continue to prove troublesome. Jacques’s absence, together with many other prelates and lay rulers who joined the Fifth Crusade, therefore seems to have been abused by the Italians. Jacques’s last known letter, dated 18 April 1221, testified to the bleak situation in Damietta. Repeating previous concerns, Jacques mentioned how the crusader army had fallen into sin after the capture of the city and that again many leaders and contingents had left the army.68 The dire situation prompted Jacques to include the rumours of an unexpected (or long-awaited) ally. While describing the advances of the Muslims, Jacques also reported Mongol attacks on the eastern frontiers of the Ayyubid territories, interpreted by Christians as the long-awaited arrival of the mythical King David, and by Jacques as the legendary Prester John. With the letter, Jacques included a translation of an Arabic document of the history of Prester John that had fallen into the hands of Pelagius and Jacques at the end of 1220.69 Jacques claimed that he obtained the document from eastern 65 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 133 (ep. 6). 66 ASV, Reg. Vat. 11/5, fol. 99r, ep. 492, ‘Venerabilis frater noster episcopus, gravem ad nos querimoniam destinavit’. 67 ASV, Reg. Vat. 11/5, fols 98v–99r, ep. 491. 68 John of Brienne, the master of the Templars, the patriarch, and the knights from France and Cyprus had left the army after the capture of Damietta. 69 See also J. Richard, ‘The Relatio de Davide as a source for Mongol history and the legend of Prester John’, in Prester John, the Mongols and the Ten Lost Tribes, ed. C.F. Beckingham and B. Hamilton (Aldershot, 1996), 139–58.

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merchants. Accordingly, the discovery of the prophetic book of Hunayn Ibn Ishaq and the Book of Clement at Damietta, predicting a positive outcome for the Christians and the destruction of the Saracens, also contributed to this interest in the legend of Prester John/King David. Honorius, profiting from the opportunity, relayed this information on King David to his crusade preachers on 13 March 1221.70 In an attempt to convince people who doubted the prophecies, Jacques referred to the Old Testament story of Balaam and the talking donkey.71 Interestingly, however, in the Historia Orientalis, Jacques, like Innocent III before him,72 used the story of Balaam to warn against the dangers of credulity and to incite his readers to be critical.73 It is possible that at the time of the letter, Jacques felt that the circumstances called for a less critical approach to these prophecies and, by the time he completed the Historia Orientalis, the failure of the Fifth Crusade caused him to be more critical again regarding these prophecies predicting victory. The Egyptian sultan Al-Kamil, hearing of this King David, opened negotiations, but the crusader army received a letter from Emperor Frederick II, stating he would arrive in August, and they refused the sultan’s offer. The letter ended on a positive note and Jacques reported that he and the Latin army had been strengthened by the good news of King David and the imminent arrival of Frederick II. The contrast with Jacques’s second letter from early in 1217 is clear. In 1217, he optimistically estimated that 4,000 soldiers would be sufficient to defeat the Saracens. By the time Jacques wrote this seventh letter, the Christian army was under pressure from the Muslim army in the spring of 1221 and the mythical Prester John was explicitly portrayed as a powerful king who would hopefully come to destroy the Muslim adversaries.74 Jacques, after 70 J. Richard, Au-delà de la Perse et de l’Arménie: L’Orient latin et la découverte de l’Asie intérieure (Turnhout, 2005), 29–58. For a discussion of Honorius’s letter of 13 March and one of the circulating reports on King David’s victories, see F. Zarncke, ‘Zur sage vom Priester Johannes’, Neues Archiv der Gesellschaft für ältere deutsche Geschichtskunde, 2 (1877), 611–15. On the use of these prophecies during the Fifth Crusade, see also Powell, Anatomy, 178–9. 71 Num. 22. Only Balaam’s donkey could see the angel that blocked the road and when ­Balaam punished the animal for not continuing on the path, the donkey miraculously spoke and complained about the situation. Then Balaam saw the angel and repented. 72 B. Bolton, ‘Signs, Wonders, Miracles: supporting the faith in medieval Rome’, in Signs, Wonders, Miracles: representations of divine power in the life of the church, ed. K. Cooper and J. Gregory, SCH, 41 (Woodbridge, 2005), 157–78, at 164. 73 J. de Vitry, Historia Orientalis, ed. J. Donnadieu (Turnhout, 2008), 350 (c. 37). 74 On the legend of Prester John during the crusades, see: B.F. Hamilton, ‘The Lands of Prester John: western knowledge of Asia and Africa at the time of the crusades’, The Haskins Society Journal, 15 (2004), 126–42 and A. Kurt, ‘The Search for Prester John: a projected crusade and

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witnessing the slow advance of the crusading army, expressed the urgent need for significant military support.75

Disappointment in the East The consequences of Pelagius’s decision to march on Cairo in July 1221 are well known. With the army defeated, the crusaders had no choice but to negotiate the surrender of Damietta. On 29 August 1221, they agreed to surrender the city on the condition that the Latin army was allowed to withdraw unharmed and a truce of eight years was signed. The conditions of the surrender of Damietta were secured with the exchange of hostages. According to the chronicle of Ernoul, Jacques assisted John of Brienne in the negotiations and seems to have been among around fifteen high-ranking Latins who were exchanged for Muslim hostages.76 On 8 September 1221 the crusaders evacuated Damietta.77 Jacques, like Pelagius, did not agree with King John of Brienne about the conditions of the treaty.78 One must take into account, however, that Jacques did not express strong feelings against any of the leaders of the Fifth Crusade in his own writings, and that he, owing obedience to Honorius, would have felt compelled to support Pelagius.79 Perhaps a sign of Jacques’s benevolence towards Pelagius is that Pelagius seems to have received a donation from Jacques and the canons of Acre.80 Certainly disappointed by the failure of the campaign, and perhaps even feeling betrayed or insulted by the hostage situation, Jacques disappeared from the crusading forefront in the Latin East and returned to his role of local ordinary, only appearing in the papal registers to arbitrate in disputes. Soon after the end of the campaign in Egypt, Jacques’s continued presence in the East is attested by a letter from Honorius on 20 January 1222 addressed to the patriarch of Jerusalem, the archbishop and treasurer of Caesarea, the eroding prestige of Ethiopian kings, c.1200–c.1540’, in Journal of Medieval History, 39 (2013), 297–320. 75 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 141 (ep. 7). 76 Chronique d’Ernoul, 444 and 446, ‘Li rois Jehans demora en ostage et li vesques d’Acre’. 77 Donovan, Pelagius, 92–4; Powell, Anatomy, 189–91. 78 Matthew Paris, Chronica majora (London, 1872–83), iii, 70. 79 See also Longère, ‘Jacques de Vitry’, 11, ‘Homme-liège du pape, Jacques de Vitry fait siennes les vues si discutables du légat pontifical Pélage’. 80 ASV, Reg. Vat. 13/10, fol. 92v, ep. 86. In this letter from 21 October 1225, Honorius takes the possessions of Pelagius under the protection of St Peter because of his prolonged stay in the West. These possessions are described as ex dono venerabilium fratrum nostrorum episcopi et capituli acconensis.

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and the bishops of Bethlehem and Acre. Honorius asked his prelates to compel the Syrian, Jacobite, Nestorian, and other eastern Christian groups in the diocese of the archbishop of Nicosia on Cyprus to obey the latter and his suffragans. The date of the document may suggest that Honorius was perhaps not yet aware of Jacques’s disillusionment. A few months later, on 10 June, it is striking that Jacques is not mentioned in a charter listing all other high-ranking prelates in Outremer who gathered in Tyre to solve a dispute between the Genoese and the Pisans in Jacques’s own city of Acre.81 On 9 October, Jacques is mentioned again with the patriarch of Jerusalem and the abbot of Mount Sion whom Honorius asked to ensure that a certain deacon Evrard received a prebend as canon in the chapter of the cathedral of Tripoli.82 Nearly a year after the defeat at Damietta, Jacques may have travelled back to Europe for the first time since his appointment in Acre. The evidence for this first journey, however, appears problematic. Early in November 1222, Pelagius, John of Brienne, Patriarch Raoul, and Guérin de Montaigu, grand master of the Knights Hospitaller, arrived in Brindisi to meet with Honorius.83 The meeting was postponed to March by Honorius, but his letter dated 23 April 1223, concerning the meeting with the prelates and Frederick II at Ferentino, does not refer to Jacques among the others.84 Philippe Mousket’s Chronique rimée (c.1242–72) mentions that Jacques was with King John and the masters of the military orders at the papal Curia,85 but Mousket is not the most reliable of sources and there is no direct further evidence. On the contrary, Funk argued that Jacques’s presence at the Curia was in accordance with Thomas of Cantimpré’s account of Ugolino of Ostia (the future Gregory IX) receiving the relic of Marie d’Oignies’s finger as a gift from Jacques.86 However, according to Cantimpré, Jacques still had the relic during the storm on his second journey back to Europe. Therefore, the anecdote with the cardinal of Ostia probably took place shortly after his second return.87 While most scholars have taken Funk’s opinion for 81 R. Röhricht, Regesta Regni Hierosolymitani (1097–1291) (Innsbruck, 1893), 253 no. 955. 82 ASV, Reg. Vat. 12/7, fols 5v–6r, ep. 21. 83 Donovan, Pelagius, 106. 84 MGH, Epistolae Saeculi XIII e Regestis Pontificum Romanorum Selectae, ed. G.H. Pertz, 3 vols (Berlin, 1883–94), i, 152–5. 85 MGH SS, xvi, 767, ‘l’evesques d’Acre i vint ausii’. 86 See J. Vandeburie, ‘“Sancte fidei omnino deiciar”: Ugolino dei Conti di Segni’s doubts and Jacques de Vitry’s intervention’, SCH, 52 (2015), 87–101. 87 See also Longère, Iacobi de Vitriaco sermones vulgares, xii. Jacques did not pass by the papal Curia on his first journey. In his edition of the Vita Marie de Oegnies, Huygens points out the correct chronological order of Cantimpré’s anecdotes. See Iacobus de Vitriaco, Vita Marie de

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granted, the actual evidence for this first journey, namely Mousket’s brief note and Cantimpré’s mention of two journeys, is faint at best. Although Jacques did not appear in any papal bulls at the time, Honorius did not ask other prelates to take care of matters in Acre during Jacques’s absence, as he would do at Jacques’s next absence in May 1226. Whether he was in Europe or not, Jacques disappeared for a while. As there is no evidence that places him in Acre or at the papal court, Jacques may have spent some time in Oignies. The first trace of Jacques’s presence in the Holy Land again, and of contact with Honorius, albeit indirect, is in a letter from 1 March 1224 in which Honorius asked the Patriarch of Jerusalem and his prelates to facilitate the declaration of consent for the planned wedding between Frederick II and Isabelle of Brienne.88 Jacques’s presence in the Holy Land and his mental well-being were of key importance to Honorius as demonstrated by the pope’s letter on 6 March 1224 addressed only to the bishop of Acre. Honorius, clearly aware of Jacques’s disappointment, praised the work he had done and encouraged him not to give up the battle against Christ’s enemies and to keep on preaching to the faithful.89 Honorius assured Jacques that the long-awaited arrival of Frederick II’s army was imminent. This letter came at a time when Honorius was attempting to redirect men and resources from the Albigensian crusading theatre to the Holy Land. The pope sent out announcements to other crusade preachers assuring them of Frederick’s arrival, and instigated a large crusade preaching campaign on the borders of the Empire.90 On 10 January 1225 Honorius exhorted the master of the Templars, Peter of Montaigut, to stop injuring the people, grounds, and other goods belonging to the church of Tortosa. Honorius delegated Jacques to help the archbishops of Tyre and Caesarea in overseeing this matter. Honorius’s issues with the Order of the Temple, which had become too powerful to control, were in line with Jacques’s comments on the military orders in his sermons and Oegnies and Thomas Cantipratensis, Supplementum, ed. R.B.C. Huygens, CCCM, 252 (Turnhout, 2012), 191. 88 ASV, Reg. Vat. 12/8, fol. 170r–v, ep. 337. 89 Ibid., ep. 322, fol. 168r–v. Honorius paraphrases 1 Cor. 9: 24 in an attempt to comfort Jacques: ‘prudenter advertens quod finis, non pugna coronat et currentibus in stadio virtutibus universis sola perseverantia bravium accipit destinatum’. These words seem to have left an impression on Jacques as he uses them in one of his sermons. T.F. Crane, The Exempla or Illustrative Stories from the Sermones Vulgares of Jacques de Vitry (London, 1890), 72. 90 Donovan, Pelagius, 107–8 on Honorius’s vain efforts to revive the crusade. Honorius also attempted to channel resources from the Baltic frontier to the Holy Land. See I. FonnesbergSchmidt, ‘Pope Honorius III and Mission and Crusades in the Baltic Region’, in The Clash of Cultures on the Medieval Baltic Frontier, ed. A.V. Murray (Farnham, 2009), 103–22.

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in the Historia Orientalis. Indeed, Jacques’s subtle criticisms regarding the wealth and power of the Hospitallers and especially of the Templars may have compelled Honorius to act against the Orders’ disobedience of the Latin Church. The opening lines of Honorius’s letter to the master and knights of the Temple, in which he lamented how they were defiling their own reputation and staining their souls before God with their behaviour,91 shows strong resemblances with Jacques’s words in his sermons and his Historia Orientalis where, while emphasizing the importance of the Orders, he also suggested that they were no longer living up to their previous reputation.92 By July 1225, Jacques still seemed to have been in the Holy Land and was involved in episcopal duties. On 19 July, Honorius asked Peter, the archbishop of Caesarea, and Jacques to put a halt to the disobedience of the lay rulers of Antioch towards Patriarch Ranier as they were appointing and dismissing prelates without his consent.93 Considering Jacques’s experience with, among others, the Italians and the eastern Christians in his own diocese, he remained the ideal prelate to send out to deal with a case of disobedience. Later in 1225, Jacques was involved in a dispute about the statutes of a Venetian chapel in Acre between the canons of St Mark’s in Venice and the archdeacon of the Church of Acre.94 Honorius invited representatives from Venice and Acre to appear before the papal Curia by 2 February 1226 in order to come to an agreement. Jacques’s appearances in the papal correspondence of July 1225 seem to be the last occasion when we can place him in the Holy Land with certainty. At Brindisi, on 9 November 1225, a delegation from Syria arrived from Acre to attend the marriage of Frederick II and Isabelle of Brienne. In this delegation were present, among others, the royal chancellor Simon of Maugastel, Isabella’s cousin Balian of Sidon, and Gautier, lord of Caesarea. Did Jacques perhaps come to Europe with this delegation? Claverie added Jacques to the delegation, but none of the sources listed by the author actually mention him.95 Indirect evidence, however, is provided by the 91 ASV, Reg. Vat. 13/9, fol. 27, ep. 151. 92 In one of his sermons to the military orders, Jacques refers to the Templars as ‘those who aggravate the prelates of churches everywhere’. J.B. Pitra, Analecta novissima Spicilegii Solesmensis altera continuatio, II: Tusculana (Paris, 1888), 344–461, sermon 37. 93 ASV, Reg. Vat. 13/9, fol. 68v, ep. 374. 94 30 Sept. and 1 Oct. 1225: ASV, Reg. Vat. 13/10, fol. 87v, ep. 56 and fols 89v–90r, ep. 70. 95 Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient, 115. Claverie makes references to Estoire d’Eracles, RHC Oc., ii, 357–8; G. Raynaud, ‘Chronique de la Terre Sainte’, Les gestes des Chiprois (1095–1309), in Recueil de chroniques françaises écrites en Orient aux XIIIe–XIVe siècles (Geneva, 1887), 22–3; John of Ibelin, Le livre des assises, ed. P. Edbury (Leiden, 2003), 806; and Hist. Friderici, ii/2, 863, but none of these sources list Jacques among the members of the delegation. See also T.W.

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chronology of Jacques’s missions to the imperial court in 1226. Honorius sent Jacques to Frederick’s court shortly after the wedding in Brindisi, and in January 1226 we f ind him in the presence of the Outremer visitors confirmed at Brindisi.96 Moreover, Funk pointed out that a charter from Acre dated 24 December 1225 was signed by the chapter and not by Jacques himself.97 On 10 June 1226 Jacques was present at the imperial court in Parma where he was part of the legation attempting to solve the conflict between the emperor and the reformed Lombard League which hindered Frederick II from going on Crusade.98 In July, Jacques, together with Patriarch Gerald and Simon, the archbishop of Tyre, was with the emperor in Borgo San Donino99 and later in San Miniato in the presence of most of the Outremer embassy mentioned at the court in January.100 Honorius’s renewed vigour in preaching the crusade and his hope for Frederick’s imminent departure on the crusade (thanks to the marriage with Isabella of Brienne) coincided well with Jacques’s return to Europe and provided Honorius with the ideal candidate to send to the emperor. Jacques was experienced, had detailed knowledge of the East, and, presumably, he knew what had to be done to avoid a repetition of the recent outcome of the Fifth Crusade. A bull of Honorius from 30 April 1226, in which he granted Jacques permission to excommunicate usurpers of the revenues of his church, has caused confusion over Jacques’s presence in the Holy Land.101 Since Jacques’s presence at the imperial court is confirmed, it is safe to assume that this was a measure taken by Honorius to allow Jacques to anathematize transgressors immediately without having to go through the papal Curia. This measure would make it easier for Jacques to control matters in his bishopric during his absence. Indeed, confirming Jacques’s absence at this time, Honorius instructed the archbishop of Caesarea and the bishops of Sidon and Beirut on 30 May to defend Jacques’s interests during his stay at the Curia.102 Smith, ‘Between Two Kings: Pope Honorius III and the Seizure of the Kingdom of Jerusalem by Frederick II in 1225’, Journal of Medieval History, 41 (2015), 41–59 and L. Ross, ‘Frederick II: tyrant or benefactor of the Latin East?’, Journal of Medieval History, 15 (2003), 149–59. 96 Regesta imperii, i/1, 321–2 no. 1590. 97 Funk, Leben und Werke, 54; Röhricht, Regesta Regni, 256 no. 973. 98 Regesta imperii, i/1, 328–9 no. 1624. See also D. Abulafia, Frederick II: a medieval emperor (Oxford, 1988), 159–61. 99 Regesta imperii, i/1, 336 no. 1661. 100 Ibid., 337 no. 1668. 101 ASV, Reg. Vat. 13/10, fol. 131r, ep. 287. 102 ASV, Reg. Vat. 13/10, fol. 131r, ep. 286.

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From Bishop to Cardinal Thomas of Cantimpré’s Supplementum noted that, shortly after his second return from the Holy Land, Jacques went to Rome to request permission to leave his see and remain in Europe, which was duly granted.103 Jacques’s plea to Honorius to be ‘absolved’ from his episcopal see ought to be situated either early in 1226 or after his imperial embassy. Cantimpré’s words have generated doubts among scholars since Alberic of Trois-Fontaines placed Jacques’s resignation shortly before his appointment as cardinal-bishop of Tusculum by Pope Gregory IX.104 Indeed, Jacques’s successor, John III of Pruvino, was only consecrated in 1229 and arrived in Acre in 1230.105 I would argue that both chroniclers were correct, since Honorius’s registers and other contemporary sources continue to refer to Jacques as bishop of Acre in the years between 1226 and 1229. The answer, in fact, is found in Jacques’s function as auxiliary bishop to Hugues of Pierrepont in Liège between 1226 and 1229. Since auxiliary bishops were generally required to have an episcopal title in order to exercise their function, these positions were often taken by titular bishops of extinct bishoprics. Although Acre was far from extinct, there are numerous other examples of Levantine Latin prelates who spent long periods of time in Europe.106 When Jacques asked to be absolved from his bishopric, Honorius indeed absolved him from his pastoral and episcopal duties in Acre, but not from his title. The pope may well have realized that Jacques was worth more in good spirits in Europe than demotivated in the East. Indeed, neither of the two instances in 1226 and 1227 in which Jacques appeared in his function as bishop of Acre provide any evidence to place him in the Holy Land in person. On 1 June 1226, Honorius invited the doge of Venice to the papal Curia to negotiate an agreement with Jacques about the church of St Mark in Acre.107 Regardless of the outcome of the dispute with St Mark, Honorius had already charged three Jerusalem bishops to bring the 103 Vita Marie de Oegnies, ed. Huygens, 193, ‘Non multo autem post Romam perveniens a domno Honorio, huius nominis papa tercio, episcopatu absolvi se petiit, quem ille, multarum precum instantia devictus, absolvit’. 104 Funk, Leben und Werke, 54–60; McDonnell, Beguines, 37–8. 105 Hamilton, The Latin Church, 257; Alberic of Trois-Fontaines, MGH SS, xxiii, 923, and Reg. Greg. IX, i, 322–3 no. 491. 106 Robert of Nantes, for example, was appointed Patriarch of Jerusalem by Gregory IX in 1240 (Auvray, no. 5179). He came to Syria only in 1244 and appointed Peter of Sargines, archbishop of Tyre, as his vicar during his absence (Hamilton, The Latin Church, 262–3). 107 ASV, Reg. Vat. 13/10, fol. 130v, ep. 282.

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adversaries of the church of Acre to repentance.108 The doge of Venice had sent Marino Storlato to the papal Curia, but Honorius’s final decision had to be postponed since the reappearance of the Lombard League caused new concerns and the pope quickly dispatched Jacques and others to the imperial court, where we find Jacques already on 10 June.109 On 5 March 1227, in what seems to be the last communication before Honorius’s death on 18 March, the pope charged Patriarch Gerald and Jacques with an investigation into the parental lineage of Queen Alice of Cyprus and her husband Bohemond of Antioch.110 This task did not require Jacques’s presence overseas and, in fact, Honorius may have consciously selected a prelate based in Europe and one in the Holy Land for the purpose of the investigation. Upon Honorius’s death on 18 March 1227, the College of Cardinals elected Ugolino di Conti to succeed to the papal throne as Gregory IX. Jacques and Ugolino had become close friends in recent years as they shared a fondness for the upcoming lay religious movements and, in particular, for Marie d’Ognies and the mulieres sanctae.111 Alberic of Trois-Fontaines noted that, upon the election of Ugolino as the new pope, Jacques was called to the papal see ‘with haste’ (cum festinatione).112 Jacques’s experience as preacher and as bishop of Acre and his knowledge of the East made him an ideal advisor for Gregory IX who, in 1229, appointed Jacques as cardinal-bishop of Tusculum.113 It is interesting to note that the new pope promoted the former bishop of Acre, at the margins of Christianity, to one of the top positions in the papal Curia. Although disappearing behind the scenes of the papal administration, Jacques greatly influenced Gregory IX’s decision-making.114 108 Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient, 163. 109 See above. Only on 13 May 1255 and 17 Jan. 1261 would the bishops of Acre and Tyre sign definitive concordats with Venice regarding this dispute. See Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient, 164. 110 Idem, 104; M.-A. Nielen, Lignages d’Outre-Mer (Paris, 2003), 67. 111 Vita Marie de Oegnies, ed. Huygens, 186–9. See also Donnadieu, ‘Entre sentiment et ambition’, 140. 112 Alberic of Trois-Fontaines, MGH SS, xxiii, 919. Alberic’s note that Jacques crossed the sea in 1227 (‘et paulo post mare transivit’) has led scholars to believe Jacques was in the Holy Land at the time, but, since he was very active in Liège and there is no evidence to suggest Jacques was not in Europe, this is likely a wrong dating by Alberic. 113 Alberic of Trois-Fontaines, MGH SS, xxiii, 923, ‘Magister Iacobus, dimisso episcopatu suo, in partes Leodii reversus et inde Rome, a papa accersitus, fit cardinalis episcopus Tusculanus’. See also Funk, Leben und Werke, 55–7. 114 Jacques’s signature is found no less than 111 times in the papal registers between 1229 and 1240: he signed more bulls than any other cardinal bishop serving under Gregory IX.

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Conclusions Pope Honorius III and Jacques had shared concerns regarding the continuation of Innocent III’s programme and Honorius did not just groom Jacques for his role as preacher, but wanted someone he could trust to represent and implement the papacy’s agenda and interests in the Holy Land. After arriving in the East, Jacques kept Honorius informed of his activities and the local situation through his letters. Powell already pointed out that Jacques’s first letter from the Holy Land ‘described conditions and attitudes among the native population that suggest that he was directly tackling problems that Innocent III himself had discerned in the East and had written about during the spring of 1213 in a letter to the Latin patriarch of Jerusalem’.115 I would take this further and argue that Jacques was not just sent to the Holy Land as one of many preachers and church officials in the wake of Innocent III’s reform agenda, but that he was a key figure in the Latin East and acted on behalf of Honorius III to implement the reform and crusade decrees of the Fourth Lateran Council at the time of the Fifth Crusade. The papal letters addressed to Jacques, at times to him alone, confirm his ecclesiastical role well beyond his function as preacher and show his position as a contact person as well as a local official. On 30 November 1215, during the final session of the Lateran Council, Innocent’s Ad Liberandam made it clear that one legate would be appointed, but that all clergy accompanying the army were responsible for the cura animarum of the crusaders. Although one legate ensured centralized decision-making, it is clear that Jacques, and a number of other prelates, fulfilled similar roles in promoting papal goals for the crusade, even without being officially appointed as legates.116 The presence of the unfortunate Robert de Courson,117 for example, is evidence that Honorius consciously appointed representatives of the Parisian reformers to reinforce the papal agenda during the Fifth Crusade. Their influence on Innocent III’s agenda and on the canons of the Fourth Lateran Council is also reflected in Honorius III’s efforts in the Latin East. Indeed, aside from the important roles bestowed upon prelates educated at 115 Powell, Anatomy, 26–7. 116 Burchard of Mount Sion refers in one instance to Jacques as legate and in the cartulary of the Cistercian abbey of Aywières (Brussels, Archiv. Cartul., 78, fol. 60v), we find an 18th-century copy of a document from 1234 referring to Jacques as ‘magister J(acobus) de Vitriaco, sedis apostolice legati vices gerens’. See also H. Zimmerman, Die päpstliche Legation in der ersten Hälfte des 13. Jahrhunderts (Paderborn, 1913), 66; R. Röhricht, ‘Briefe des Jacobus de Vitriaco (1216–21)’, Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 16 (1895–6), 114 n. 2. 117 Powell, ‘Leadership’, 524 n. 10.

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Paris,118 the cura animarum was the foremost of the new pope’s concerns. As Powell stated: ‘[Honorius III’s] conception of the pastoral office of the priesthood, though nurtured in the same tradition as that of Innocent III, reflected a post-conciliar spirit that was more closely attuned to the ideals of the reformers and less tied to the institutional and temporal needs of the church’.119 The presence and activities of the Paris master and reform preacher Jacques de Vitry in the Latin East and on the Fifth Crusade certainly seem to reflect this post-conciliar reform spirit. Jacques was concerned with the pastoral care of his flock at Acre as well as with the reform and conversion effort among both Christians and Muslims in the Holy Land. Once he joined the crusaders at Damietta, his letters showed his detailed knowledge of the decisions made by the leaders of the Fifth Crusade, testifying to his close involvement in the guidance of the campaign. Moreover, Jacques’s evident authority among these leaders, his approval as well as disapproval of the decisions made on the crusade, and his intense communication with Honorius, show that his involvement went beyond his function as a preacher and that he played a vital role, not only in Acre, but also on the direction of the Fifth Crusade. The letters of Honorius to the army show a reliance on Jacques’s reports to guide the campaign and to organize funding and reinforcements. While both Jacques de Vitry and Honorius III may have been more concerned with pastoral care than with the temporal needs of the Church, their correspondence reflects the preacher’s and the pope’s efforts to guide the crusading campaign both morally and militarily. About the author: Jan Vandeburie, University of Leicester, UK

118 For instance, in a letter from 22 November 1219 to Patriarch Ranier and his prelates, Honorius implemented the Lateran council’s eleventh canon, instructing the metropolitan church of Antioch to promote the study of theology among its clergy. ASV, Vat. Reg. 10/4, fols 142v–144r, ep. 610. 119 Powell, ‘Pastor Bonus’, 536.

8. Rogations, Litanies, and Crusade Preaching: the liturgical front in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries Jessalynn Bird* Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch08 Abstract This chapter examines how preachers drew on sermons for Rogations and the greater and lesser litanies to explain the expectations for conduct for the laity during the liturgies instituted for the crusade from 1187 onwards. Preachers were forced to explicate the conditions necessary for efficacious prayers and processions and the types of alms which were acceptable to give to the crusade. They turned to existing liturgies, biblical commentaries, and sermons for the greater and lesser litanies to craft novel appeals which publicized the concept that the reform of society and the creation of a liturgically driven domestic front was as important as the military front for the success of various crusades against heresy and Islam. Preachers and recruiters also employed similar techniques at moments of crisis in the crusading armies in the Midi and in the East. Their efforts resulted in the unification of domestic and military fronts through newsletters, sermons, liturgy and other forms of excitatoria: all orders of society were called, at least temporarily, to become a ‘monastery on the move’ and shown how to do so. Keywords: liturgy, almsgiving, preaching, crusade, rogations, litanies

* I would like to thank the participants in the Medieval Intellectual History Seminar in Chicago (particularly Rachel Fulton, Robert Lerner, Daniel Hobbins, Dyan Elliot, and John van Engen), Cecilia Gaposchkin, and Edward Peters for saving me from potentially embarrassing errors and generously providing copies of hard-to-find articles and forthcoming book chapters. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

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No one disputes that designated masses and public prayers, fasting, and penitential processions were central to the crusades called by Gregory VIII, Innocent III, and their successors. They transformed the very concept of the crusade and helped to forge a ‘home front’. However, not much work has been done on how crusade preachers might have explained the significance of these observances to their audiences.1 This study will examine just that, utilizing unpublished sermons from authors known to have preached the crusade from the fall of Jerusalem in 1187 until the 1220s, a period saturated with innovations in crusading liturgy, much of it derived from traditions of litanic intercession and monastic clamour.2 How were sermons for the greater and lesser litanies adapted to crusade preaching, both on the home front and on campaign? How would homilists have explicated to their audiences the customary readings and meanings assigned to the liturgy in treatises and handbooks, including those by John Beleth, Peter of Roissy, and Sicard of Cremona? Sicard of Cremona appears to have accompanied the papal legate Peter of Capua (Petrus Capuanus) eastwards on the Fourth Crusade while Peter of Roissy preached the same campaign with Fulk of Neuilly; Fulk (as was Peter of Roissy before his promotion to the chancellorship at Chartres) was also praised as an ideal crusade and reform preacher by Jacques de Vitry, whose sermons are discussed below. Both Beleth’s and Roissy’s liturgical treatises were copied into collections of materials meant for crusade and reform preachers in the late twelfth and early thirteenth centuries.3 Further unpublished anonymous and attributed 1 C.T. Maier, ‘Crisis, Liturgy, and the Crusade in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries’, JEH, 48 (1997), 628–57; Maier, ‘Mass, the Eucharist and the Cross: Innocent III and the relocation of the crusade’, in Pope Innocent III and his World, 351–60; A. Linder, Raising Arms: liturgy in the struggle to liberate Jerusalem in the late Middle Ages (Turnhout, 2003), esp. 1–12, 26–43, 52–4, 97–102. For excellent recent scholarship, see C. Gaposchkin: Invisible Weapons: liturgy and the making of crusade ideology (Ithaca NY, 2017). 2 For the significance of 1187 to Paris preachers, see J.L. Bird, ‘Heresy, Crusade and Reform in the Circle of Peter the Chanter, c.1187–c.1240’, unpublished D.Phil. dissertation: University of Oxford, 2001, esp. 120–83; Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, seu de officiis ecclesiasticis summa, PL, ccxiii, 13–436, at 516–18. For the Holy Land clamour’s dependence on rogational traditions, see n. 1 above. For monastic clamour and litanies, see L.K. Little, Benedictine Maledictions: liturgical cursing in Romanesque France (Ithaca, 1993); P. Geary, ‘Humiliation of Saints’, in Saints and their Cults: studies in religious sociology, folklore and history, ed. Stephen Wilson (Cambridge, 1983), 123–40; N.J. Morgan, English Monastic Litanies of the Saints after 1100, 2 vols (Woodbridge, 2012–14). 3 Peter of Roissy wrote his Manuale de mysteriis ecclesiae around 1208–13. His treatment of the greater and lesser litanies can be found in the longer version of his manual contained in Paris, BnF Ms. nouv. acq. lat. 232, fols 84rb–85rb. For Peter’s career, see Hist. Occ., 100–1; M.-Th. d’Alverny, ‘Les mystères de l’église, d’après Pierre de Roissy’, in Mélanges offerts à René

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crusade appeals from the first two decades of the thirteenth century survive in two manuscripts from the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris: Ms. Lat. 14470 and Ms. nouv. acq. lat. 999. 4 Would the connections forged between the crusade and other liturgical feast days through themes incorporated into crusade preaching and processions have lingered even after the crusade campaign was finished? This brings us into the relatively new field of crusade commemoration.5 What can such linkages tell us about the integration of crusading themes into the larger devotional context? Homiletic explanations of the proper means of and mindset for dress, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving might illustrate how clerical authorities responsible for organizing crusade processions sought to inspire inner as well as outward participation in the crusade through images of spiritual warfare and the power of intercession to bring about eternal and temporal victory. Crozet à l’occasion de son 70 e anniversaire par ses amis, ses collègues, ses élèves et les membres cu C.E.S.C.M., 2 vols, ed. P. Gallais and Y.-F. Riou (Poitiers, 1966), ii, 1085–104; V.L. Kennedy, ‘The Handbook of Master Peter, Chancellor of Chartres’, Medieval Studies, 5 (1943), 1–38. Sicard (c.1150–1215) wrote his Mitrale around 1185 ×1195. I have been unable to consult the modern edition of Sicard’s Mitrale (Sicardi Cremonensis episcopi Mitralis de officiis, ed. G. Sarbak and L. Weinrich [Turnhout, 2008]) and so have cited the version in the Patrologia latina. For Sicard’s participation in the Fourth Crusade, see Sicard of Cremona, Chronica universalis, PL, ccxiii, 437–540, at 535. John Beleth wrote his Summa de ecclesiasticis officiis around 1160 to 1165. See Iohannis Beleth Summa de ecclesiasticis officiis, ed. H. Douteil, 2 vols, CCCM, 41a (vol i)–41 (vol. ii) (Turnhout, 1976). Beleth’s work was often copied with other pastoral material of a Parisian origin, including Peter Comestor’s Historia scholastica, sermons, theological notes and summae on confession. Extracts from Beleth were copied into both Paris, BnF, Ms. Lat. 14470 and Ms. Lat. 14593 in which many of the sermons discussed below appear (see Beleth, Summa, ii, 75–278, esp. 95–6 and 201–3 and n. 6 below). 4 For descriptions of these manuscripts and the relevance of their sermons, see J. Bird, ‘The Victorines, Peter the Chanter’s Circle, and the Crusade: two unpublished crusading appeals in Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Ms. Latin 14470’, Medieval Sermon Studies, 48 (2004), 5–28; eadem, ‘Preaching the Fifth Crusade: the sermons of BN nouv. acq. lat. 999’, in The Fifth Crusade in Context: the crusading movement in the early thirteenth century, ed. E. Mylod, et al. (London, 2017), 92–114. 5 See n. 1 above; N. Paul, To Follow in their Footsteps: the crusades and family memory in the high Middle Ages (Ithaca, 2012); Historiography, Memory, and Transmission: approaches to the narratives of the early crusade movement, ed. D. Kempf and M. Bull (Woodbridge, 2014); J. Naus, ‘Crusading and Legitimacy: Suger of Saint-Denis and the narrative of kingship’, French Historical Studies, 36 (2013), 525–41; idem, ‘The French Royal Court and the Memory of the First Crusade’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, 55 (2011), 49–78; Remembering the Crusades and Crusading, ed. M. Cassidy-Welch (Routledge, 2016); Remembering the Crusades: myth, image and identity (rethinking theory), ed. N. Paul and S. Yeager (Baltimore MD, 2012). A special edition of the Journal of Medieval History, 40.3 (2014) devoted to this topic has also recently been published.

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The Liturgy Both liturgical manuals and sermons stressed that litanies supplicated God to save his people from sudden death and every adversity, while rogation referred to beseeching the saints or Church Triumphant to intercede before God for the Church Militant on earth. Preachers and treatise writers outlined the historical circumstances of the greater litany of universal fasting and processions instituted by Popes Pelagius and Gregory the Great in Rome in response to a flood, serpents, a dragon, and the inguinal plague. The lesser litany was similarly composed of a three-day fast and procession instituted by Mamertius bishop of Vienne (in imitation of the penitent Ninevites) after an earthquake, heavenly fire, tempests, and wild beasts. Pope Liberius elevated the feast to universal observance, recommending its supplications, prayers, and fasting as a remedy against famine, war, pestilence, and other disasters.6 Celebrants and audiences were already primed to associate the efficacy of intercession before God with Christ’s salvific sacrifice on the Cross by the fact that Rogations or the greater litany immediately preceded the feast of the Ascension. For example, Peter Lombard followed his account of the origins of the greater litany with the image of Christ shedding his blood on the Cross and called his audience to emulate Him in ascending the palm of the Cross to grasp the fruit of eternal blessedness.7 Liturgical manuals from Saint-Victor, a canonry which preserved many of the anonymous sermons listed below, and Nivelon of Soissons, a bishop intimately associated with the promotion of the Fourth Crusade, provide a window into the actual observance of rogational processions. The service 6 For an excellent short history of rogational processions, see T. Bailey, The Processions of Sarum and the Western Church (Toronto, 1971), 93–8, 120–62. For medieval conceptions of its origins, see Beleth, Summa, in BnF Lat. 14470, fols 172vb–173rb and BnF Lat. 14593, fols 20rb–21ra (this manuscript includes many of the sermons in BnF Lat. 14470) and ed. Douteil, 41, 105–6 and 41a, 232–7; Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 267–8; Peter of Roissy, Manuale, BnF Lat. 14593, fol. 300va. Jacques de Vitry seems to have drawn on Beleth, for he also mentions Paul of Montecassino, and incorporates these accounts into his ‘Feria secunda in laetania maiori sive in rogationibus, thema de epistola, “Confitemini alterutrum peccata vestra, ut salvemini”’, in Sermones in epistolas et evangelia dominicalia totius anni, ed. Damianus a Ligno (Antwerp, 1575), 507–14, at 507. For similar sentiments, see Peter Lombard, ‘Nemo ascendit in celum nisi qui de coelo descendit’ (sermon for Ascension Day), Paris, BnF Ms. Lat. 16506, fols 52rb–va, at 52va; B.M. Kienzle, ‘Cistercian Preaching against the Cathars: Hélinand’s unedited sermon for rogation, BnF MS. Lat. 14591’, Cîteaux: commentarii cistercienses, 39 (1988), 297–314, at 297–8 and Philip the Chancellor, ‘Sermo in diebus rogationum (“Petite et dabitur”)’, Paris, BnF, Ms. Lat. 15933, fols 117vb–119vb and idem, ‘Sermo in diebus rogationum (“Quis nostrum habebit amicum”)’, Ms. Lat. 15933, fols 119vb–121vb. 7 Peter Lombard, ‘Nemo ascendit’, Paris, BnF, Ms. Lat. 16506, fols 52rb–va.

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for the greater litany preserved in a thirteenth-century gradual of SaintVictor stressed conversion and pleaded for God to hear the clamour of the celebrants and save them from their persecutors, invoking a verse much-used by preachers: ‘Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock, and the door shall be opened to you’ (Matt. 7: 7–8). The service for the vigil of the Ascension recited Psalm 46 in full. This psalm called for rejoicing and promised that God would usher his people into their inheritance and subject all peoples to them.8 Terence Bailey’s justly famous study of the processions of Sarum (and other traditions) noted that antiphons for Rogations generally fell into several groups: those seeking God’s mercy for sin, specific requests for rain (or its cessation), deliverance from war or other physical danger, as well as prayers of comfort and rejoicing. In a Paris breviary dating from circa 1201–1300, the frequently repeated ‘Confitemini’ stressed confession and the promise of divine aid in affliction. The greater litany was also tied to the feast day of St Mark, who was held to have evangelized Alexandria and to be buried there, a point stressed by the ecclesiastics accompanying the armies of the Fifth Crusade before Alexandria and Damietta. In the Paris breviary and other liturgical sources, St Mark’s office was indebted to that of St George, whose aid was repeatedly invoked by crusaders from the First and Fifth Crusades.9 Jean of Joinville would later claim that the deaths of true crusaders on Louis’s two crusades which produced sorrow in this world and rejoicing in heaven were foreshadowed by Louis IX’s birth on the feast day of Mark, called ‘black Cross day’ in France because of the liturgical Crosses used during rogational processions.10 Probably compiled during the episcopate of the crusading Nivelon, the processional of the cathedral church of Soissons illustrates the way in which rogational processions could easily be applied to the crusade context. Nivelon of Soissons and Garnier, bishop of Troyes had joined Fulk of Neuilly and many other Paris masters in promoting the Fourth Crusade, as had the abbots of Saint-Victor and Vaux-de-Cernay, who were intimately acquainted with 8 Paris, BnF, Ms. Lat. 14452, fols 55v–56r. See also Paris, BnF, Ms. Lat. 151, fol. 330r. 9 Bailey, Processions of Sarum, 120–33; Paris, BnF, Ms. Lat. 15181, fol. 483r–v. The CANTUS on–line database notes that the ‘Confitemini’ was in widespread usage for the greater litany. St Mark was also associated with the off ice of St George in the Victorine gradual (BnF, Lat. 14452, fols 93r–94r) and The Ordinal of the Abbey of the Holy Trinity Fécamp, Part I, ed. D. Chadd (Woodbridge, 2000), 365–71, and The Ordinal of the Abbey of the Holy Trinity Fécamp, Parts II, III, and IV, ed. D. Chadd (Woodbridge, 2002), 435–7. For St George, see also n. 42 below. 10 Jean de Joinville, The Life of Saint Louis, trans. C. Smith, Joinville and Villehardouin: Chronicles of the Crusades (New York, 2008), ch. 69, 163.

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at least two of the participants in the expedition: Simon of Montfort and Thibaud of Blois.11 During the greater litany, processions with banners and liturgical Crosses wended their way through churches within and without the city of Soissons (many of which had been endowed with relics sent home by Nivelon after the crusaders took Constantinople in 1204) for three days, while invoking the intercessions of the saints whose relics were present in each church (as well as many other saints who were not).12 Participants also prayed for purging from error, being spared from famine and other natural disasters, freedom from prison, the return of ships and pilgrims, the healing of the sick, peace and protection from enemies spiritual and physical, for the church, the king and his army, and the salvation of all Christians.13 Acknowledgment of sin was accompanied by pleas for divine and saintly clemency, and a call to follow the example of the Ninevites, who demonstrated their conversion by fasting, sackcloth and ashes, in order to merit divine mercy.14 Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross, represented by the liturgical Crosses carried in procession, was also invoked. The chants of the liturgy reiterated many of the major themes discussed below, including Omnes gentes plaudite (Ps. 46), Petite et dabitur vobis (Matt. 7: 7–8; Lk. 11: 9–13), the story of the man seeking bread from his friend in the middle of the night (Lk. 11: 5–8), and the Epistle of James urging believers to confess to one another and pray like Elijah for the rain to cease (5: 16–18).15 When instituting processions in Rome and elsewhere in preparation for what would become the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212 and mandating monthly processions for the crusade in 1213, Innocent III drew directly on Gregory the Great’s sevenfold litany, local processions held in honour of the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross in Rome, and intercessory processions held for the major litany.16 Contemporary preachers active in Paris were also careful to describe the historical occasions behind the litanies and the significance of the order of litanic processions; they should be led by the 11 Bird, ‘Victorines’; F. Bonnard, Histoire de l’Abbaye royale et de l’Ordre des chanoines régulieres de Saint-Victor de Paris, 2 vols (Paris, 1907), i, 281–6. For the liturgical manual, see n. 12 below. 12 Anonymous of Soissons, ed. and trans. A.J. Andrea, Contemporary Sources for the Fourth Crusade (Leiden, 2000), 223–38, esp. 234–7. This account was preserved in the liturgical handbook produced under Nivelon, printed in Rituale seu mandatum insignis ecclesiae Suessionensis, ed. A. Poquet (Paris, 1856). 13 Poquet, Rituale, 123–56, esp. 129–33, 137–8, 143–4, 147–9, 154–6. 14 Idem, 146–7, 156. 15 Idem, 123–4, 127–9, 151. These chants closely resembled the liturgy of the manuals discussed above (see nn. 8–9). 16 See Crusade and Christendom, 82–85, 111–12; PL, ccxvi, 514 and ccxvii, 270; Alberic of TroisFontaines, Chronicon, MGH SS, xxiii, 893–4.

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Cross and banners, which signify victory, followed by the clergy and priests singing antiphons, psalms, and orations, and the laity singing the Paternoster and the creed (simbolum). The clerical and lay orders unite in beseeching God through faith in Christ’s passion to give them victory over the Devil and his temptations and patience lest they weaken during tribulations and adversities. All are to walk after the Cross with bowed head, reverence and devotion, grieving over their sins as did the holy women who followed Christ to his passion. In a deliberate linkage to feasts of the Exaltation and Invention of the Cross and of Good Friday (utilized by crusade preachers for their referents to Christ’s redemptive work on the Cross and the need for penitents to imitate it), liturgists and preachers stressed that just as the suffering Christ commanded the daughters of Jerusalem to weep for themselves and their sons, so audiences ought to mourn their and others’ sins, redeemed by Christ’s death. All have sinned and thus all must beg for pardon by ceasing worldly work, participating in the processions, and adopting Lenten observances including fasting, almsgiving, and prayer. Liturgists envisaged litanic processions as re-enacting the women weeping at Christ’s crucifixion or the procession of women trailing after Christ and Simon Cyrene. The liturgical Cross taken up from the altar symbolized Christ’s triumphal redemption of mankind on the Cross and it and the banners used in procession harked back also to Constantine’s vision of conquering in the sign of the Cross.17 Jacques de Vitry would remind pilgrim-crusaders that ‘just as in procession the banner goes before and the Cross in the midst, so too we cannot attain victory without the Cross’. The power of such processions was not lost on participants of the crusade of the pueri, who combined quasi-liturgical songs with banners and thau-shaped crosses as the processional basis of a crusade in which they hoped to triumph by purity and divine favour rather than military might.18 Similarly, although intercessory prayers for the Holy Land had already become widespread after 1187, Innocent III inserted them 17 Anonymous, ‘Qui in viis meis ambulamentis et mandata mea custodieris (Zech. 3: 7)’, BnF nouv. acq. lat. 999, fols 251va–52rb. The preacher may have drawn on Beleth, who was popular in contemporary Paris pastoral manuscripts. Peter Comestor’s Historia scholastica and later additions likewise claimed that the litany re-enacted the women weeping at Christ’s crucifixion, or the procession of women following Christ and Simon Cyrene (Peter Comestor, Historia scholastica, PL, cxcviii, 1049–172, at 1629–30 [c. 170]). See also Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 368–9 and n. 6 above. 18 ‘sicut autem in processione vexillum procedit et crux interponitur, ita ad victoriam sine cruce non possumus pervenire’. See J. Bird, ‘James of Vitry’s Sermons to Pilgrims’, in Essays in Medieval Studies, 25 (2008), 81–113, at 101; Crusade and Christendom, 82–5, 95–105; G. Dickson, The Children’s Crusade: medieval history, modern mythistory (New York, 2008).

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into the Mass at the point where Christ’s body was about to be received by the congregation: the prayers symbolized the unity of Christ’s members, the Church Militant with the Church Triumphant, and their intercessions to the physically and spiritually present God-man Christ for the crusade effort. Under Innocent III and his successors, Western Christendom would be saturated by repeated calls for prayers and processions in aid of the Holy Land.19

Liturgy and the Home Front Following Innocent III, Jacques de Vitry stressed that participants in litanic processions should shun secular ornament or splendid vestments and proceed wearing sombre clothing with bare feet. Women must substitute silent supplication and singing the Kyrie for leading dances (choreas) or singing lascivious songs.20 Paris-trained clergymen and recruiters for the Fifth Crusade attempted to suppress what they viewed as licentious and potentially lust-inducing dances during feast days and to substitute the more sombre processional liturgy associated with the preaching of the crusade and other feast days. Liturgists and preachers including Odo of Cheriton had similarly complained of unruly behaviour during Easter processions, which marked the end of Lenten abstinence and the reception of the consecrated body of Christ at the Mass.21 Separate processions of men and women were envisaged as one precautionary measure. Both in his provisions for the processions of 1212 and in Quia maior (1213), Innocent III commanded the diocesan clergy and crusade preachers to organize on the first Friday of each month general processions, if possible segregating the sexes. In humility of body and mind, the participants ought to beseech God to erase their disgrace by freeing the 19 See n.1 above; Linder, Raising Arms, 37–40, 52; Reg. Hon. III, i, 149–50 no. 885 (24 Nov. 1217), also RHGF, xix, 639–40; Epistolae selectae, i, 172–3 no. 244 (letter of instruction to preachers in 1224); evidence of instructions carried out in the Chronicle of Saint-Martin of Tours, MGH SS, xxvi, 472 (in 1226). 20 James of Vitry, ‘In maiori letania, scilicet sancti Marci, thema de introitu missae, sumptum ex psalmo “Exaudivit de templo sancto suo vocem meam”’, in Sermones in epistolas, 501–6, at 501. On dancing and the liturgy in general, see C.J. Mews, ‘Liturgists and Dance in the Twelfth Century: the witness of John Beleth and Sicard of Cremona’, Church History, 78 (2009), 512–48. 21 Beleth, Summa, ii, 106–7; Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 347, 355–6; Caesarius of Heisterbach: Caesarii Heisterbacensis monachi … Dialogus miraculorum, ed. J. Strange, 2 vols (Cologne, 1851), i, 183 (iv.2); and the discussion of Odo of Cheriton and n. 26 below. For Odo’s life and works, see A.C. Friend, ‘Master Odo of Cheriton’, Speculum, 23 (1948), 641–58.

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land in which Christ had accomplished the sacraments of their redemption from the hands of the pagan. So that their prayers might fly more quickly to heaven, participants ought to fast and alms given in aid of the Holy Land were to be deposited in locked trunks placed in the churches organizing the processions. Crusade appeals should be delivered to the assembled populace, something which Oliver of Paderborn did with regularity in Frisia, to great effect.22 Prayers also served as means to unify the home front with the crusader front. Processions and intercessions joined the constituents of the Church Militant across geographical boundaries and with the Church Triumphant in heaven – all were members of Christ’s body. In a letter addressed to the reformer Alberic (praised by Jacques de Vitry as a powerful preacher, then elevated to archbishop of Reims), and to his suffragans in 1217 (and presumably to other prelates), Honorius III enclosed a newsletter concerning the crusaders mustering in Syria poised to attack Egypt (Babylon). Honorius touted the power of penitent prayer against spiritual and physical enemies as illustrated by the Ninevites, Moses, and Joshua, and the recent triumph at Las Navas (1212). He urged every population centre (and the cloistered religious within their monasteries) to hold on the first Friday of each month litanic processions similar to those which he had organized in Rome for the current crusade. Men and women dressed in humble garb and with bare feet had borne the relics of Peter and Paul beseeching the aid of Christ and the Virgin Mary.23 Oliver of Paderborn and Jacques de Vitry would be involved in the organization of similar processions within the crusading army while writing newsletters home to communities engaged in liturgy in aid of the crusade, self-consciously sustaining the juncture of spiritual and temporal warfare on both fronts. Utilizing the historical wild beasts which occasioned the institution of the lesser litany, one anonymous preacher stressed that both litanies and vigilant prayers freed the soul and the Christian people from spiritual lions and demons (1 Pet. 5: 8), including ravening wolves in sheep’s clothing, that is heretics, who seek to deceive clergy and people alike (Matt. 7: 15). Christ’s injunction to ask and you shall receive was interpreted as those who keep God’s commands and petition him shall, as heirs to God’s chosen people, receive not only spiritual virtues but bountiful crops and protection from 22 Crusade and Christendom, 82–5, 107–13; Oliver of Paderborn, ed. Hoogeweg, 285–8 (epp. 1–2); and n. 75 below. 23 RHGF, xix, 639–40. Alberic later joined the crusader army in the East and died in Acre. H.Occ., 102–3; Powell, Anatomy, 210.

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flooding, beasts, and enemies. The preacher many have been referring to the rogational processions instituted by Peter, bishop of Paris, for the Albigensian Crusade and his sermon clearly indicates how litanic processions could be adapted to the anti-heretical as well as the anti-Islamic crusade.24 Drawing on imagery present also in John Beleth and Sicard of Cremona, Hélinand of Froidmont delivered a Rogation Day sermon in Toulouse (a veritable heretical hotbed) shortly after the Peace of Paris (1229). He also linked the wild beasts and dragons of the greater and lesser litanies to the great dragon of Revelations 12: 4 to dramatize the danger heresy represented to the church, as did Jacques de Vitry in his sermons to crusaders and the military orders and multiple contemporary biblical commentaries.25 Additions to the synodal statutes of Odo of Sully preserved in a Victorine manuscript, perhaps drafted by Odo’s successor, Peter of Nemours, bishop of Paris (1209–14), called for prayers for the recently deceased (including Odo and Peter the Chanter), for Louis VIII and his family, for Jerusalem and Constantinople, and against the Albigensians and declared ‘let there begin the great remission of sins which the lord pope made for that land because as much is remitted to those who aid the said land as to those visiting the Lord’s sepulchre’. Priests in the diocese of Paris were similarly warned not to tolerate choreas (dances) in processions and to use excommunication to force those neglecting their crusade vows to fulfil them while urging their parishioners to gird themselves against the Albigensian heretics, assuring them that they will again have the same indulgence as others have.26 Another sermon on rogational processions opens with the description of Joshua brandishing his shield until the inhabitants of Ai were slain. The preacher interprets the gospel injunction to seek and receive as his audience’s duty in time of rogation to pray for one another and bear each other’s burdens. Intercessions for the calming of wind and storms at sea represent the violence of the peoples by which the church of God is battered 24 Anonymous, ‘Qui in viis meis ambulamentis et mandata mea custodieris (Zech. 3: 7)’, BnF nouv. acq. lat. 999, fols 251va–252rb and the discussion at n. 26 below. For Paris masters’ involvement in preaching the Albigensian Crusade, see J. Bird, ‘Paris Masters and the Justification of the Albigensian Crusade’, Crusades, 6 (2007), 117–55. 25 Kienzle, ‘Cistercian Preaching’, 299, 307–8; J. de Vitry, Sermo ad crucesignatos vel -signandos, in Crusade Propaganda and Ideology: model sermons for the preaching of the Cross, ed. C.T. Maier (Cambridge, 2000), sermon 1, 82–99, at 90–1; Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 263, 368–9; Beleth, Summa, i, 236–7. 26 O. Pontal, Les statuts synodaux Français du XIIIe siècle, I: Les statuts de Paris et le synodal de l’Ouest (XIIIe siècle), Collections de documents inédits sur l’histoire de France, 9 (Paris, 1971), 86, 88 (nos 88, 94–5), 96–7 (the manuscript in question comes from Saint-Victor in Paris). All translations are the author’s own, unless otherwise indicated.

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nearly everywhere on earth. Through God’s grace the tears of holy widows and the religious men of the schools will calm this tumult. However, those who wish God to hear their prayers must first make a perfect confession and call on him with a clean and consecrated (votus) heart, in faith and without hesitation or doubt, lest like Moses they be barred from the Promised Land. In contrast, both Joshua and Christ did not waver in their fight against God’s enemies and led their people to salvation. Christ did not draw back his hands on the cross until all the lovers of the world were slain and the Devil’s power over sinners was broken. The preacher uses the examples of Amalek, Ai, and Jericho to call his audience to fight against diabolical temptation and he reminds prelates and priests who live from Christ’s patrimony to beware worldly desires and fight rather than foster vice. Similar to Moses and Aaron praying on the mountain, they must set an example for the people. The story of Joshua circling Jericho with trumpets and that of Ai signify the threat of the universal Last Judgment and the necessity of fleeing lust and fornication through the mortification of the flesh, a point illustrated with two anecdotes starring scholars and clerics. Similar to Abraham, who left his homeland and lived in a tent, they ought to look forward to future and eternal things in Bethel, the house of God.27 At this point, the copyist breaks off, but it is clear that we have a rogational sermon addressed to a clerical and regular religious audience who are urged to support the church in its struggle against various internal and external threats through prayer and self-reform, including clerical celibacy, a message which fits in perfectly with Innocent III’s and contemporary Paris-trained preachers’ combination of these goals for the promotion of the crusade both on the home front and on campaign. The images of Amalek, Ai, and Jericho were commonly applied to the ad hoc liturgical intercessions and attempts to reform crusading camps which characterized the search for spiritual and literal victory from the First Crusade onwards, including the campaign of the Fifth Crusade. They would be used powerfully by Philip the Chancellor and Odo of Châteauroux in a series of sermons delivered in support of the Albigensian Crusade in the 1220s in Paris, which used the image of Joshua and Ai and Christians as the new Israel to call on the clergy and scholars of Paris and other noncombatant groups to support the crusade effort through liturgical intercession and suffrages: prayers, personal and institutional reform, and almsgiving 27 Anonymous, ‘Josue vero non contraxit manum suam quam in sublime porrexat tenens clipeum in manum donec interf icerentur omnes habitatores Hay (Joshua 8: 26)’, Paris, BnF nouv. acq. lat. 999, fols 256vb–58ra.

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(including the payment of the contested crusade tax).28 Similar themes were prominent in the crusader camp before Damietta on the Fifth Crusade and in Jacques de Vitry’s crusade letters and sermons to pilgrims, which utilized the image of Abraham and tents. Both he and Oliver of Paderborn invoked the image of Joshua and Ai during attempts to purge the crusader camp of gamblers, prostitutes, and blasphemers, attempts which accompanied litanic processions held after three days of fasting organized by the legate Pelagius. Abraham was also commonly invoked as an example for pilgrims and the imitation of Christ in Good Friday homilies and sermons on the Cross, and in moralized Bibles and biblical commentaries produced in Paris.29 In one sermon preached at the canonry of Saint-Victor during a procession held in aid of King Louis VIII (who was besieging Avignon) on the Friday between the Epiphany and Purification of the Virgin Mary, Philip the Chancellor pointed to two great forms of suffrages which could create a liturgical home front in support of the anti-heretical crusade: the intercessions of the Virgin Mary and the processions of the Cross to commemorate Christ’s death, his central work of redemption attacked by contemporary heretics. Western Christendom’s sinfulness must not impede the business of the Cross and Paris, as the fount of doctrinal orthodoxy and seat of royal power, should set an example for others. As did many sermons for Good Friday and the crusade, Philip turned to the crucifixion tableau to define various forms of penitential imitation of Christ which could now be undertaken by every segment of Christian society. Christ will recognize those hanging with 28 This group of sermons is being edited by C. Maier and N. Bériou for the Études Augustiniennes series; both scholars generously lent me transcriptions of them. I have also consulted the versions copied in Troyes, Bibliothèque municipale, Ms. 1099. See n. 1 above and N. Bériou, ‘La prédication de croisade de Philippe le Chancelier et d’Eudes de Châteauroux en 1226’, in La prédication en pays d’Oc (XIIe–début XVe siècle) (Toulouse, 1997), 85–109. 29 J. Bird, ‘James of Vitry’s Sermons to Pilgrims (Sermones ad peregrinos): a recontextualization’, in Essays in Medieval Studies: proceedings of the Illinois Medieval Association, 25 (2008), 81–113; Bible moralisée Codex Vindobonensis 2554. Vienna Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, trans. G.B. Guest (London, 1995), fol. 4r; J. Bird, ‘Preaching the Crusades and the Liturgical Year: the Palm Sunday sermons’, in Essays in Medieval Studies, 30 (2014), 11–36; eadem, ‘“Far be it from Me to Glory Save in the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ (Gal. 6: 14)”: Beyond Model Sermons: Crusade Preaching and Sermons for Good Friday and Holy Week’, in Crusading in Art, Thought, and Will, ed. M. Parker, et al. (Leiden, forthcoming). For Joshua and Ai as models for the Fifth and earlier crusades, see Stephen Langton, Commentary on Exodus, Paris, BnF Ms. 384, fols 85ra–86rb, 87ra–rb; J. de Vitry, Lettres, 127 (ep. 5); 134–5, 136–9 (ep. 7); Oliver of Paderborn, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 237–8, 244–7 (cc. 38, 40–2); idem, Historia de ortu Jerusalem et eius variis eventibus, ed. Hoogeweg, 25–79, at 32 and J. Bird, ‘Preaching and Narrating the Campaign of the Fifth Crusade: Bible, sermons, and the history of a campaign’, in The Uses of the Bible in Crusading Sources, ed. E. Lapina and N. Morton (Leiden, 2016).

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him on the Cross of the passion (as did the good thief), and those assisting him on the Cross of compassion like Mary and John. The thief can also stand for the cloistered, John for the holy doctors, and the three Marys for virgins and holy women, the married and widows, and penitents. These groups pursue varied forms of penance within their social stations and thus earn divine favour for the crusade. However, the villains of the crucifixion scene (Judas, Pilate, the Jews, the bad thief, etc.) stand for those absorbed in worldly things who mock the religious or take the crusader’s Cross to dodge their creditors, deserters, Christians who associate with heretics, evil counsellors, social climbers in the king’s court, and corrupt prelates occupied with worldly possessions and lawsuits. Assailants of ecclesiastics, hypocrites and false Christians, tithe-retainers, heretics who pervert the scriptures – all these attack the church and therefore the crucified Christ. Worldly delights are fleeting, God’s sentence at the Last Judgment uncertain and so the citizens of this earth should pay God the king his due military service by fighting the flesh, the world, and the Devil. The clergy and other potentially non-participant groups in the crusade were clearly being targeted as sources for moral rectitude, prayers, and almsgiving, including payment of the contested clerical income tax.30 In another set of three sermons delivered to scholars in Paris when Louis VIII took the Cross against the Albigensians in 1226, Philip, as chancellor of the nascent University of Paris, explained the progress of heresy and the failure of recent crusades in familiar terms. The moral degeneracy of ecclesiastics and wrangling of the clergy and nobility over temporal possessions vitiate the two main means of protection against heretics and Saracens: the suffrages of the clergy and the milites’ exercise of the material sword in defence of the church. The moral reform of the clergy (and presumably their consent to the clerical income tax Louis wanted to fund the anti-heretical crusade) is imperative for the recovery of the Holy Land and the suppression of heresy. Philip directly addresses his audience’s doubts concerning the efficacy of the crusading liturgy and the failure of the Fifth Crusade. He urges them to reform themselves lest their sins impede their prayers and to continue to recite Psalm 78 in aid of the crusade. He uses the image of Joshua’s elevated shield and Moses’ uplifted arms to describe the suffrages which the clergy raise by prayer, fasting, and alms, which resist sins and combat heretical pravity. Heresy springs from lust and avarice, a wicked life and lying words, so one ought to pray to God, offer alms to one’s neighbour, and fast and abstain from sin. Without this triple shield, 30 Philip the Chancellor, Schneyer, Repertorium, iv, 839 no. 298.

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the clergy cannot enter the Promised Land and the promotion of the Holy Land cannot be furthered. He ends with prayers to incline the heart of Louis VIII to take the Cross.31 Philip’s second sermon points to the tangible results of the clergy’s suffrages which moved Louis VIII to take the cross and exhorts the clergy to continue to bring the entire venture to a successful conclusion. Those preaching the crusade must set an example by self-castigation so that they can call others to penance without being rebuked as hypocrites. In addition to preachers and the spiritual sword of suffrages, the crusade needs the temporal swords of the king, princes, and milites. Peace between ecclesiastics and secular powers is essential for enabling crusaders to fight enemies abroad. Those interceding before God with psalms and sorrowing for the sins of a church infested by gentiles and heretics must not harbour anger towards their neighbours.32 Throughout all three sermons the imagery of the Israelites entering the Holy Land is used to justify allegorical and literal parallels between the liturgical efforts of the Israelites and those of the crusaders. Joshua’s altar on Mount Ebal symbolizes the participation of all Christendom in the Albigensian crusade. The milites and the king fight while the secular clergy labours to repress heresy and through their living example and words guide the crusaders, newly converted to penance, so that God will not be provoked by their sins but heed their prayers. The wealthy can offer riches, others can weep for their sins, others teach by word and example. Participation is extended to the virgins, married and continent, preachers, and those who show compassion to others including the poor.33 While preaching the Albigensian crusade circa 1226, Odo of Châteauroux likewise called on the French, rich and poor, to imitate the Israelites in fighting the Benjamites and to triumph over their enemies by calling on God with daily prayers, prostration during the Mass, and processions to beseech the aid of the saints. The image was graphically depicted in contemporary moralized Bibles addressed to the royal audience expected to lead the anti-heretical crusade: confessors and other good Christians ought to fight for Christ against the ‘infideles’ and other ‘pravos’.34 31 Philip the Chancellor, ‘Dixit dominus ad Iosue, leva clipeum qui in manu tua est’, in Troyes, Ms. 1099, fols 15va–17ra and ‘Non contraxit manum Iosue quam in sublime porrexerat’, in Troyes, Ms. 1099, fols 17ra–18ra (Schneyer, Repertorium, iv, 837, nos. 269 and 270). 32 Including Psalms 15, 85, 89, 101, and 141. See n. 31 above. 33 ‘Tunc edif icavit Iosue altare domino in monte ebal’, in Troyes, Ms. 1099, fols 18ra–19va (Schneyer, Repertorium, iv, 837, no. 271). 34 Odo of Châteauroux, in Schneyer, Repertorium, iv, 464, no. 863; Bériou, ‘La prédication de croisade’, 92; Bible moralisée Codex Vindobonensis 2554, fol. 66r. See also Vienna, Österreichische

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Liturgy and Crusading Armies The clergy of crusading armies had already applied the traditional Carolingian liturgy of holy war in the West to campaigns in the East, adapting it to reflect the changed project and identity of the crusading army. They attempted to impose a quasi-monastic discipline which shunned sexual sins and communal charity through almsgiving, which they wedded to penitential and Christo-mimetic devotions. Penitential preparations for battle organized by ecclesiastics during the First Crusade fell into an established pattern. After three days of fasting on bread and water, the clergy and laity would hold barefoot litanic processions to various churches (if available), pray, and give alms to the poor in the army. All would confess and on the third day receive the body and blood of Christ at the Mass before forming themselves into battle-lines led by a clerical figure bearing the Holy Lance, Holy Cross, or similar relic. During the battle, the clergy in their vestments would engage in spiritual warfare by invoking the patronage of God and the saints for the army through psalms (e.g. Psalm 27: 9 and 40: 4).35 Clergy in the army of the Fifth Crusade were familiar with the historical and living liturgical traditions of the First Crusade and the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem: Jacques de Vitry and Oliver of Paderborn were reading the histories of Fulcher of Chartres and William of Tyre before Damietta and the military orders and the king and patriarch of Jerusalem accompanied the crusader army.36 The campaign of the Fifth Crusade would be officially initiated at the conclusion of the three days of the greater litany at the feast of the Ascension. The patriarch took up the relic of the True Cross from the church of the Holy Sepulchre in Acre, recalling the loss of another relic of the True Cross at Hattin and the Muslim captivity of the city of Christ’s crucifixion, but also Christ’s presence with the army vowed to avenge these two losses. The relic of the Cross would accompany the army on most of its campaigns, and prostrations and prayers before it by both clerical and lay members of the army formed the mainstay of warfare liturgy. During the assault of Mount Tabor, where tradition held that Christ was transfigured, the patriarch and Nationalbibliothek, Ms. 1179, fols 81r, 82r, at the Warburg Institute Iconographic Database website. 35 In general, see D. Bachrach, Religion and the Conduct of War, c.300–c.1215 (Woodbridge, 2003); J. Riley-Smith, The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading (Philadelphia PA, 1991); J. Rubenstein, Armies of Heaven: the First Crusade and the quest for apocalypse (New York, 2011); Gaposchkin: Invisible Weapons. 36 E.g., Oliver of Paderborn, Historia regum Terre Sancta, ed. Hoogeweg, 83–158, esp. 87–9, 92, 95, 100–1, 115 and the discussion below.

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clergy of the army sang psalms and prayed before the relic in imitation of Joshua and Moses.37 The clergy of the army of the Fifth Crusade, as had the clerical and monastic chroniclers of previous crusades, built on Old Testament models which exalted the spiritual warfare of calling out for divine favour above mundane military exertion. God delivered Jericho to Joshua after processions around the walls of the city; Israel triumphed over the Amalekites while Moses raised his arms in prayer, Joshua’s prayers caused the sun to stand still ensuring victory for Israel. Through fixing their eyes on the bronze serpent, God’s people were saved from the consequences of their sins, similarly the Ninevites via their repentance in fasting, sackcloth, and ashes. The chroniclers of the First Crusade had tailored the Carolingian presentation of the Franks as the new chosen people to the crusading army, exploiting the symbolic and spiritual resonance of the crusaders as a new Israel entering a geographically real promised land. In identifying their crusaders as another new Israel, the chroniclers of the Fifth Crusade adopted this tradition in a way which flaunted geographical reality. In a letter to the crusade preacher Jean de Nivelles, Jacques de Vitry rhapsodized, as he must also have done before the crusader army, on the crusaders as the new Israel coming out of Egypt into the Promised Land. In reality, the army was departing the Holy Land for Egypt.38 All the clerical accounts of the Fifth Crusade stress the integral role of liturgical intercession in the capture of the chain-tower before Damietta. While crediting heroic exploits and communal endeavour, clerical chroniclers claimed that divine aid was won only when the patriarch of Jerusalem and other preachers curbed blasphemy in the army and the new siege engine built by the Flemish-Rhenish fleet under the guidance of Oliver of Paderborn was manned by representatives from all of the crusading contingents. The feast day of St Bartholomew was chosen for the assault, which was preceded by barefoot processions to the relic of the True Cross. During the ensuing 37 Quinti Belli, 35; J. de Vitry, Lettres, 103 (ep. 4), 109–11 (ep. 5); Oliver of Paderborn, ed. Hoogeweg, 285–90 (epp. 1–3); idem, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 165–7 (c. 3); A.V. Murray, ‘Mighty against the enemies of Christ: the relic of the True Cross in the armies of the Kingdom of Jerusalem’, in The Crusades and their Sources: essays presented to B. Hamilton, ed. J. France and W.G. Zajac (Aldershot, 1998), 217–38. 38 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 119–20 (ep. 5); Oliver of Paderborn, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 179–95 (cc. 11–21), and the discussion below. For the Carolingians, see n. 35 above and M. McCormick, Eternal Victory: triumphal rulership in late antiquity, Byzantium and the early medieval West (Cambridge, 1990); idem, ‘The Liturgy of War in the Early Middle Ages: crisis, litanies and the Carolingian monarchy’, Viator, 15 (1984), 1–23.

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battle, at each reversal the barefoot clergy raised petitions to heaven while the patriarch prostrated himself before the True Cross, sprinkling his head with sand and dust. Soon all the Christians dismounted from their horses, and with bare feet, knelt or prostrated themselves in the sand, wringing their hands and beating their breasts, their tears so choking them that they could hardly pray, ‘Lord have mercy on us, aid us’. The tower’s capture was greeted by a thanksgiving liturgy consisting of Te Deum laudamus, the Gloria in excelsis, and the song of Zechariah. The Te Deum was traditionally sung as a hymn of rejoicing throughout the liturgical year and by armies as a triumphal processional hymn. The song of Zechariah, customarily sung at Lauds, is here transformed into a formal victory laudes. Bolstering the image of the crusading army as the new Israel, it praised God for redeeming and saving his people from their enemies as he had promised Abraham and the prophets.39 When the legate Pelagius arrived in the crusading army, he assumed responsibility for organizing its liturgical intercessions, including those mustered in response to the sultan of Egypt’s attack on the feast of SS Denis and Demetrius. Carrying the relic of the True Cross, Pelagius harangued the troops, urging them to show obedience to the crucified Christ and conquer his enemies. He then embarked on a litanic recital of various psalms (19: 9, 17: 6, 49: 15, 5: 1ff., 3: 8, 16: 8), calling on the Lord to hear the prayers of the crusading army and free those who believed in the Trinity and nativity, passion, death, and resurrection of Christ from their enemies so that his name might be invoked throughout the entire world. This prayer bears close textual relation to monastic clamours and to litanic prayers preserved in European service-books for liturgies intended for kings warring against non-Christian foes. These prayers stressed Christian teaching to galvanize and unify the army against their infidel foe. 40 Similar litanic processions in bare feet to the relic of the True Cross after three days of fasting marked the Christians’ naval assault on Damietta. The failure of the offensive led the clergy in the army to remind their audience of the necessity of humility. Invoking the deliverance of Jonah from the whale and Shadrach and his companions from the fiery furnace, the ecclesiastics 39 Oliver of Paderborn, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 181–5 (cc. 12–13); idem, ed. Hoogeweg, 293–4 (ep. 3); J. de Vitry, Lettres, 100–1, 105–7 (ep. 4); Quinti Belli, 40–1, 75–7, 106, 120–1, 144–5, 163–5, 294; Narratio in Annales Coloniensis, ed. K. Pertz, MGH SS, xvii, 829–36, at 833 (printed also in Quinti Belli, 27–34). 40 Quinti Belli, 77–8, 121–2, 146; Oliver of Paderborn, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 189–91 (c. 18); Linder, Raising Arms, 6–7, 11–12; Little, Benedictine Maledictions, 35, 41, 43–4, 62–5, 75–8, 134–5; Geary, ‘Humiliation’, 125–7; and n. 35 above.

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(and perhaps the laity), prostrated themselves and beseeched Christ to free them from the pagans and Saracens lest they say, ‘Where is the God of the Christians?’ words drawn straight from monastic clamour, crusading liturgy (Ps. 78), and papal bulls invoking the Holy Land crusade (including Audita tremendi [1187] and Post miserabile [1198]). Other variations of the prayer reported included elaborate Credos which recalled the promises made to crusaders in recruiting sermons. Stressing Christ’s sacrificial incarnation and death, triumphal resurrection, and ascension, the crusaders beseeched him to overlook their sins and crimes and respect their obedience to his command to take up their Cross and follow him. They could not accomplish anything without his aid.41 On another occasion, clergymen chanted Psalm 43: 13 on the perverse and wicked who say ‘Where is their Crucified God?’ resulting in St George and a heavenly army putting the infidel to flight. The army praised Christ and St Agatha, on whose feast day they entered the enemy camp, as abandoned as Sennacharib’s had been. 42 Chroniclers and clerical crusaders were marshalling the liturgical and homiletical language of the crusade, itself based on monastic clamour, rogations, and the litanies. A nearly identical version of a similar Credo prayer was attributed to Pelagius during a later siege. Recalling key doctrines which differentiated Christianity from Islam it urged God to overlook the army’s iniquities and allow them to conquer the pagans and Saracens and convert them to the right and true faith. 43 In another incident where a disastrous flood was threatening the entire crusader camp, several chroniclers cast Pelagius as another Moses comforting a disheartened chosen people. King John and other leaders approached Pelagius, lamenting that they had angered God with their sins, and asked the legate to impose penance on them and pray for them. After recommending practical measures to stem the flood, Pelagius threw himself on the ground in the shape of a cross and called on Christ to calm the waters as he had for his disciples during the storm. His prostration drew on and echoed various cultural practices: the invocation of saintly or 41 Quinti Belli, 91–9, 128–30, 154–7; J. de Vitry, Lettres, 106, 109 (ep. 4); Bird, Peters, and Powell, Crusade and Christendom, 7, 32; nn. 1-2 above. For the three pueri in the furnace as exemplars of purgation and divine deliverance, see Peter the Chanter, Commentary on Daniel, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Ms. Lat. 16793, fols 80ra–81rb; and for their invocation in monastic clamours, see n. 40 above. Gilbert of Poitiers’ gloss of Psalm 78 also invoked the pueri and the Maccabees as examples of divine purgation for sins in this life (Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Ms. Lat. 17210, fols 118r–119v, at 118v). 42 Quinti Belli, 84–5, 98–100, 125–6, 128–30, 150–1, 154–7. See n. 41 above for similar language in papal bulls. For the use of Ps. 43 in rogational liturgy, see Chadd, Ordinal, vol. 1, 365. 43 Quinti Belli, 105–6.

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divine aid through prostration before relics or the consecrated host (as often occurred in monastic and crusading clamours), and the secular practice of begging pardon from one’s offended lord. James of Vitry claimed that to ward off the triple threat of flooding, an ensuing famine, and plague of scurvy, Pelagius, the patriarch of Jerusalem and all the clergy proclaimed a three-day fast on bread and water. On Friday with psalms, litanies, and devout supplications, they went out in barefoot procession to exhort the people to implore divine aid through which alone they would triumph. Prostitutes, those who frequented taverns to drink, gamblers, and other reprobates contaminating the sacred business of the crusade were symbolically excised from the crusader camp through excommunication. Some of the very ecclesiastics present in the crusader army had already attempted to extend similar reform initiatives to the home front as well. 44

Home Front, Crusade Front Preachers in the West were also careful to clarify the necessary conditions for the potency of various suffrages to their audiences. One anonymous sermon opens with a traditional chant for the greater litany, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread’. 45 The greatest remedies against the wickedness of the world are fasting, almsgiving, and prayer: and yet the most powerful of them all is prayer, which alone saved the good thief. The image of the good thief would have provided a convenient transition for preachers seeking to convert sermons on the litany to crusade appeals: he was often cited as an example of embracing Christ’s Cross through the penance of the crusade; his salvation was the first indulgence. 46 For the anonymous preacher, fasting, vigils, flagellation, and harsh clothing macerate the flesh, as do almsgiving for Christ’s sake and the martyrs’ suffering. Although the poor or physically weak may not be able to perform these feats, everyone can pray. The preacher catechizes his audience on how to pray for eternal rather than temporal things and ends with a gloss of the Paternoster and the Credo, which he claims are particularly efficacious and will instruct them in the faith. These 44 Quinti Belli, 81–5, 124–5, 147–50; Oliver of Paderborn, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 191–3 (c. 19), 252–3 (c. 48); J. de Vitry, Lettres, 116–7 (ep. 5), 135–6 (ep. 7). For the initiatives, see J. Bird, ‘Heresy, Crusade and Reform’ and nn. 1-2 above. 45 Anonymous, ‘Amice comoda mihi tres panes’, BN Lat. 14470, fols, 293ra–294vb (marginal annotation: in rogationibus); http://cantusdatabase.org/node/374614 and n. 15 above. 46 See Matthew Phillips, ‘The Thief’s Cross: crusade and penance in Alan of Lille’s Sermo de cruce domini’, Crusades 5 (2006), 143–56; and n. 29 above.

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prayers were traditionally recited by laypersons during litanic processions both on the home front and in the crusading army; one is reminded of the legate Pelagius’s great Credo prayers and litanic progressions organized during the Fifth Crusade’s Egyptian campaign, observances almost surely aided by preachers whose miracles were cited in crusade sermons copied into the same manuscript as those of the anonymous sermon on the litany: Oliver of Paderborn and Jacques de Vitry. 47 As bishop of the important port town of Acre, Jacques de Vitry aided the legate Pelagius in organizing the religious life of the crusader army and actively preached the crusade in the West and the East. His sermons on the litanies, likely revised during his cardinalate under Gregory IX, exhorted audiences to supplicate God with fasting, processions and litanies, but stressed that their prayers were only efficacious because of Christ’s redemptive sacrifice. Christ sent his followers out like sheep amongst wolves to sanctify and strengthen them through tribulations and continues to intercede for them by displaying the scars of his passion to the Father, as Moses prayed ceaselessly for his people.48 This argument would be visually demonstrated to audiences across Europe and in the crusading armies through the use of liturgical Crosses with representations of the crucified Christ or fragments of the True Cross and the recitation of intercessions for the Holy Land during the Mass which recapitulated and commemorated Christ’s sacrifice while ensuring his presence in the consecrated host. Jacques carefully defines proper prayer. God delights in devotion, purity of heart, and tears. Rather than praying like heathens, who trust in the multiplicity of words, or like hypocrites who seek human favour or praise, his audience ought to pray not only for themselves but their brothers and enemies, with repentance, reverence, and humility. He offers a complex gloss of the Paternoster, which he praises as a universal remedy against venial and mortal sin which can preserve both body and soul in times of danger. He uses ‘forgive us our sins’ to treat penance and the need for peacemaking. Similar to Pelagius’s Credo-prayer, Jacques’s gloss of the Paternoster’s ‘thy kingdom come’ reassures his audience that the angels and saints (present in their relics) will intercede on their behalf and cry out for vengeance on the wicked and for their just reward, which will come with God’s kingdom 47 Anonymous, ‘Amice comoda mihi tres panes’, BN Lat. 14470, fols 293ra–294vb (Luke 11: 5–6); Jacques’s sermon for the third day of Rogations takes the same theme verse and glosses it as faith, hope, and charity. See J. de Vitry, ‘Feria tertia in rogationibus, thema sumptum de evangelio “Quis vestrum habebit amicum”’, in Sermones in epistolas, 514–19; Bird, ‘Victorines’. 48 J. de Vitry, ‘In rogationibus feria quarta in vigilia ascensionis thema de evangelio secundum Ioannem, “Sublevatis oculis Iesus in coelum”’, in Sermones in epistolas, 519–29, at 519–22.

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at the end of time when the faithful of the Church Militant in the east and west will earn their reward as the Church Triumphant in heaven. The Devil’s power over sinners will be broken, the remnant of the Jews converted.49 Both the crusade preaching treatise known as the Brevis ordinacio and Odo of Cheriton’s commentary on the Paternoster would apply the same phrase to crusaders: God has granted his kingdom through the Cross like a charter to penitents and will reign in them.50 Odo’s comments may have been inspired by the Paternoster’s use as a prayer suitable for the laity to participate in intercessions for the Holy Land, particularly in England: in 1229 the bishop of Worcester ordered his parishioners to kneel and recite the Paternoster whenever they heard the church bells ring for the Holy Land clamour during Mass, drawing on the tradition of inserting intercessory prayers at this point.51 Another of Jacques’s sermons on the power of prayer urges his audience to call out to God so that they will triumph over both spiritual and physical enemies, including pagans (gentes), heretics, schismatics, false Christians, and Jews.52 They can earn divine aid by imitating the saints who called out to God through contrition, confession, and satisfaction. Forms of clamour include penitent tears, devout prayer, holy preaching, the heart’s desire, and good works. However, God refuses to hear those in mortal sin and is alienated by the bad clamour of internal dissension and public sins, including gluttony, avarice and lust, detraction, litigiousness, and blasphemy. Through Christ’s incarnation and resurrection, the Devil, figured as the dragon of litanic processions, is mortally wounded. Jacques follows this sermon with another against heretics,53 and returns once again to the power of prayer when treating Psalm 69’s description of Jerusalem in opposition to Babylon. Outside the city of Jerusalem, pagans attack the peace, heretics faith, schismatics unity; meanwhile, within the city false Christians and tyrants assault the liberty of the church, and the flesh struggles with the spirit. Christians can navigate the sea of the world and defeat the Leviathan (Devil) by arming themselves with the sacraments and Christ’s incarnation and work on the Cross.54 49 James of Vitry, ‘In rogationibus feria quarta’, 523–9, esp. 525–7. 50 Quinti Belli, 22; Odo of Cheriton, BN Ms. Lat. 16506, 270ra–271rb; see also the discussion below. 51 Linder, Raising Arms, 52; Christopher J. Tyerman, England and the Crusades, 1095–1588 (Chicago, 1988), 159; Geary, ‘Humiliation’, 125–9; Little, Benedictine Maledictions, 76. 52 J. de Vitry, ‘Dominica decima, thema sumptum de introitu missae, “Dum clamarem ad Dominum”’, in Sermones in epistolas, 721–5. 53 J. de Vitry, ‘Eadem dominica thema sumptum de epistola ad Corinthios’, in Sermones in epistolas, 725–9. 54 J. de Vitry, ‘Dominica duodecima thema sumptum de introitu missae ex psalmis (Ps. 69)’, in Sermones in epistolas, 746–9. Further treatments on the power of prayer can be found in

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Prayer thus becomes a means of forming Christian identity and the stigmatization of groups considered outside the fold: Jacques stresses this in another sermon which notes that the Jews think animal sacrifices will save them, usurers that they can avoid restitution and almsgiving. Playing on the gospel of the day associated with rogations, he claims that heretics by fasting and praying seek God but do not f ind him because they are outside the faith and do not seek God in the catholic church; others forfeit his grace through their wicked actions. Those who do seek and find through prayer persist in good works and take up the yoke of Christ’s Cross and thus attain eternal blessedness.55 Hélinand of Froidmont would invoke similar arguments against heretical attacks on prayer and other forms of intercession in a sermon delivered at Toulouse in 1229.56 Jacques’s sermons for Rogation Days likewise stress the power of properly performed prayer. Taking the introit to the Mass as his theme (Ps. 17:7), he urges his audience to enshrine God within the temple of their hearts. If they destroy their body’s temple through sin, or pray negligently or for the sake of vainglory and other wrong motives, God will condemn rather than hear them. The power of prayer lies not in the words themselves, but in clamour, that is purity of heart and tears of compunction accompanied by almsgiving and other works of mercy, symbolized by Moses praying with the support of Joshua and Aaron, resulting in Israel’s victory over the Amalekites.57 Without abstention from sin (symbolized by fasting), his audiences’ prayers and processions will fail to placate divine ire and rather call down further judgment. The Lord commands his audience to go against Ascalon and against the maritime regions, that is, against the fire of lust and other worldly vices. The various postures of prayer – kneeling, standing with upraised hands, or prostrate on the ground – signify the frailty of the flesh, the shame of sin, and true repentance.58 His sermons to crusaders also used militant Old Testament imagery to describe Christ stretching out his arms upon the Cross like a banner held up in battle to rally the dispersed, defeating the sermons for the twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, which took as its gospel text the parable of the Pharisee and the publican. See for example, Caesarius of Heisterbach, Homiliae festivae, ed. J.A. Coppenstein, 2 vols (Cologne, 1615), i, 73–9, no. 18. 55 J. de Vitry, ‘Feria tertia in rogationibus’, in Sermones in epistolas, 519; Sicard, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 370. 56 Kienzle, ‘Cistercian Preaching’. 57 J. de Vitry, ‘In maiori laetania, scilicet sancti Marci, thema de introitu missae sumptum ex psalmo, “Exaudivit de templo sancto suo vocem meam”’, in Sermones in epistolas, 503–5, 506; compare Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 370. 58 J. de Vitry, ‘In maiori laetania’, 505–6; Sicard, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 262.

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Devil’s hold upon sinners as had Moses against the Amalekites and Joshua against Ai. His audience must reject the world and its delights by imitating Christ’s poverty and affliction.59 Clerical accounts of the campaign of the Fifth Crusade, Jacques, Philip the Chancellor, Odo of Châteauroux, and the Brevis ordinacio also developed the biblical account of Joshua’s battles against Amalek, Ai, and Jericho to symbolize the penitent’s fight against the Devil, world and flesh in militaristic terms.60 Liturgists including Sicard of Cremona similarly cast the rogational processions which circled the church with bells and cases or litters containing relics and holy books as the commemoration of Moses’ triumph over Pharaoh, Joshua over Amalek, the Israelites against Jericho, Israel going out of Egypt into the Promised Land with songs of praise or David and Solomon returning the ark of the Lord to its tabernacle or temple.61 The symbolic borrowing would come full circle when these processions were re-enacted during crusade campaigns. In another rogational sermon, Jacques claims that various historical and biblical disasters were literally inflicted on God’s people because of their sins. God permits external enemies to bring famine and war or sends natural disasters or the plague, as when he struck the Philistines holding the ark captive in their posterior parts, an image strikingly applied by contemporary moralized Bibles to unreformed clergy and the seizure of the relic of the True Cross by Saladin at Hattin.62 Spiritually these afflictions represent lack of preaching and attacks of the Devil and vice. Both may be combated by litanies and processions which, as the epistle of the day (James 5: 16–18) notes, must be accompanied by confession and prayer for one another. For without purification through contrition and confession, prayer is vitiated and worthless. Jacques’s emphasis on the power of prayer for another is critical for the harnessing of intercessions on the home front for the crusade effort, as well as aiding the deceased. He lists the various litanic clamours including asking aid for rulers and help in difficult circumstances and for the conversion of the impious. He reassures his audience that general prayers made in the person of the church are efficacious even if pronounced 59 J. de Vitry, Sermones ad crucesignatos vel –signandos, ed. Maier, Crusade Propaganda, sermons 1 and 2, 82–127; compare Brevis ordinacio in Quinti Belli, 21. 60 See nn. 23, 27–9, 31, 33, 36–7, and 57 above; Brevis ordinacio, in Quinti Belli, 23–4. 61 Sicard, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 370. 62 J. de Vitry, ‘Sancti Marci. Feria secunda in laetania maiori sive in rogationibus, thema de epistola, “Conf itemini”’, in Sermones in epistolas, 507–14, at 508; Bible moralisée Codex Vindobonensis 2554, fols 35v, 36r–v; Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Ms. 1179, fol. 86r, available at the Warburg Institute Iconographic Database. See also the discussion below at n. 90.

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by wicked persons: however, the private prayers of those with evil lives are worthless.63 Prayer must be pure, assiduous, and devout; just as a warrior (miles) would not proceed to battle unarmed, so vices are vanquished by frequent assault through prayer. Petitions ought also to be just and discrete. Often warriors (milites) ask the Lord to strike their enemies, and when they go to tournaments, they cause Masses to be sung so that they might obtain victory for the sake of vanity. Yet on their return home they would willingly steal the cope of the priest who celebrated Mass for them. They ought instead to persevere in prayer, approaching God with humility, and displaying their miseries to him, as does a pauper begging for alms, then what they seek, they will find.64 Odo of Cheriton had been studying in Paris when Jacques, Oliver, and Robert Courson had been preaching the Fifth Crusade, and his sermon for the greater litany suggests that a unified message was circulated by Paris-trained individuals.65 After recounting the historical circumstances behind the greater and lesser litanies, Odo stressed that the greater litany’s processions were meant to obviate not only natural disasters but also the sins which after Lenten austerity, typically emerged in the form of gluttony, drunken dances (choreas), and fornication during the Easter feast.66 His Easter sermons similarly contrasted the devout setting out on pilgrimage and those rightfully preparing themselves for the reception of the consecrated host through fasting and penance to adulterers and those who used feast days as occasions to frequent ‘ludos et choreas et spectacula’ and relapsed into vice.67 Using the parable of the man who knocks on his friend’s door in the middle of the night to ask for bread and Christ’s mandate to ‘ask and it will be given to you’, Odo urges perseverance in prayer. Prayer is the most direct route to divine assistance which even paupers and the sick can perform, unlike its necessary allies: almsgiving and maceration of the flesh. After describing three modes of prayer (on bended knee, with upraised hands, or 63 J. de Vitry, ‘Sancti Marci. Feria secunda in laetania maiori’, 508–10; J. de Vitry, ‘Feria tertia in rogationibus, thema sumptum de evangelio’, in Sermones in epistolas, 514–19, at 514–15; Sicard, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 369–70. 64 J. de Vitry, ‘Sancti Marci. Feria secunda in laetania maiori’, 510–12; J. de Vitry, ‘Feria tertia in rogationibus’, 514, 516–17; compare Beleth, Summa, ii, 105. 65 See n. 21 above; Bird, ‘Victorines’, 14; Odo of Cheriton, ‘In lethania secundum lucham, c. xxiiii’: BnF Ms. Lat. 16506, fols 171rb–172va. 66 Odo of Cheriton, ‘In lethania secundum lucham’, BnF 16506, fol. 171rb. 67 Odo of Cheriton, ‘In die sancto pasche secundum marchum ultimo’, BnF Lat. 16506, fols 162vb–164ra, esp. 163vb–164ra and ‘In crastino pasche secundum lucham ultimo’, in BnF Lat. 16506, fols 164rb–165va, esp. fols 164vb–165rb.

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prostrate in dust and ashes), Odo depicts the re-enactment of Moses lifting his hands against Amalek and Christ’s outstretched hands on the Cross by priests celebrating the Mass, an image mirrored in contemporary moralized Bibles. Through prayer and Christ’s Cross, Christendom triumphs over the Devil and God’s enemies. He concludes by warning his congregation that they will pray in vain if they are not worthy of having their prayers answered or ask for worldly vanities or riches. True prayer ought to be devout with signs of contrition and interior devotion accompanied by charity towards one’s neighbour and purity of life.68 He concludes with two examples which demonstrate the power of prayer to put both spiritual and temporal enemies to flight: that of a miles turned monk resurrected from the dead to slay the emperor Julian and a dying monk delivered from a devouring dragon.69 In another sermon for the feast day of St Stephen, Peter the Lombard expounded a verse on opposing Edom typically used to portray spiritual warfare or warfare against unbelievers. He invokes the image of Christ as a new Joshua holding up his sword, that is, the banner of the Cross, against Amalek. Similar to Joshua, Moses, and Samson, Christ subdues and converts the gentiles. He then uses Ezekiel’s description of those mourning over sin signed by the Thau and Stephen’s example to call his audience to engage in a similar struggle against vice, as did Jacques de Vitry in his sermons to crusaders, Innocent III before the Fourth Lateran Council, and Peter the Chanter on his commentary on Ezekiel.70 Odo expressed similar sentiments in his treatise on the Paternoster, urging the milites Christi to arm themselves with prayer against vices (including ludos and choreas, usury, concubinary priests, and lust). The ethnici trust in wordy intercessions, but God values devotion over quantity of prayer. Glossing the Paternoster phrase by phrase, Odo applies ‘thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven’ to those who reject vice and, taking up the crusader’s Cross upon their shoulders or their chest, undergo 68 Odo of Cheriton, ‘In lethania secundum lucham’, BnF Lat. 16506, fols 171rb–vb. For Moses and Aaron and power of prayers and alms, fasting, and confession, see also Odo of Cheriton, ‘Bonus est dominus sperantibus in eum’, BnF Lat. 16506, fols 109va–110ra; Bible moralisée Codex Vindobonensis 2554, fol. 23r. 69 Odo of Cheriton, ‘In lethania secundum lucham’, BnF Lat. 16506, fol. 172rb. The anecdote concerning the monk and the dragon comes from Gregory’s Dialogues. 70 Peter Lombard, ‘Auditum audivimus a domino et legatum misit ad gentes (Obadiah 1: 1)’, BnF Lat. 16506, fols 89ra–90ra; Innocent III, PL, ccxvii, 674–84; J. de Vitry, Sermo ad crucesignatos vel –signandos, ed. Maier, Propaganda, 1.6,13, 86, 92; Peter the Chanter, Commentary on Ezekiel, Bibliothèque Nationale, Ms. Lat. 16793, fols 20ra–vb. Compare the moralized Bible’s depiction of Exodus 18, commonly paralleled with Ezekiel on the Thau (Bible moralisée Codex Vindobonensis 2554, fol. 20v).

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many dangers to combat the enemies of Christ’s Cross and free the Holy Sepulchre. Their daily bread ought to be the Eucharist and preaching, their debts are forgiven when they take up the Cross of penance and prostrate themselves before Christ who will spare them as do earthly princes whose enemies prostrate themselves before them as a living cruciform.71 In another sermon on prayer, Peter Lombard turned to the same verse utilized by Hélinand of Froidmont for a rogational sermon delivered in Toulouse shortly after the Peace of Paris (1229): Psalm 122(121): 6 on praying for peace in Jerusalem. Peter invoked the example of Moses and Aaron praying against the Amalekites to stress that prayer must be supported by works of charity, a holy life, fasting, and almsgiving. One may ask for temporal blessings provided that God sees f it to grant them. However, earthly prosperity can work for spiritual good or lead to sin and damnation, while temporal disasters can demonstrate God’s power and bring sinners to repentance. His audience ought not to fear the powers of the enemy because if God is with them, who can stand against them? Peter cites the traditional authorities of one putting a thousand to flight and angels striking the army of Sennacharib before Jerusalem. Tribulations can be a way to find the peace of eternal Jerusalem in the war against the flesh, the world, and the Devil.72 Hélinand’s sermon likewise joined traditional explications of the meaning of the greater litany and the power of prayer (with additional focus on confession and the Eucharist and God’s goodness and power over creation) to contravene heretical teaching. He also urged the necessity of a true peace rather than false tolerance of heresy within Jerusalem.73 Philip the Chancellor’s surviving sermons for Rogations, when compared with his sermons in support of the crusading home front (described above), demonstrate how easily themes from Rogations could be pressed into service for crusade appeals. One sermon describes the historical origins of the greater and lesser litanies and points to Old Testament examples of successful intercession: Elijah, Daniel, and the Ninevites. Philip urges his audience to fast, do penance, pray and give alms as they do in preparation for the reception of the Eucharist on Easter day. Just as the Israelites forgave debts during the Jubilee and Christ forgave his enemies on the Cross, so when petitioning for the remission of sins his audience ought to practise forgiveness 71 Odo of Cheriton, Treatise on the Paternoster, BnF 16506, fols 266vb–72va; G. Koziol, Begging Pardon and Favor: ritual and political order in early medieval France (Ithaca, 1992). 72 Peter Lombard, ‘Ad laicos de serenitate aeris’, in Paris, BnF Lat. 16506, fol. 78rb. 73 Kienzle, ‘Cistercian Preaching’, 297–313.

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themselves and give alms, unlike hypocrites, detractors, and sowers of dissent. Another sermon ties the three traditional suffrages of Rogations (fasting, prayer, alms) to Christ’s sacrifice re-enacted in the Mass and urges Philip’s audience to do penance for their sins so that they might join Christ in meriting the eternal reward celebrated on Ascension Day. He specifies that those praying, including the laity reciting the Paternoster, ought to do so with faith and contrition, but without presumption (not mindlessly as does a crow trained to talk). They must also cease from sin, perform penance, and do justice, something which usurers, the avaricious, and grain-hoarders cannot do. Denunciations of contemporary vice are joined with calls for social and personal reform necessary to earn divine favour.74

Natural Disasters As early as 1203, Hubert Walter, archbishop of Canterbury, had ordered his suffragans to organize daily prayers in the Mass for the Holy Land and processions every Friday for the land of Jerusalem, the king, the peace of the realm, fair weather, and a bountiful harvest. Crusade recruiters were also faced with rationalizing the devastating floods which wracked Frisia during preparations for the Fifth Crusade there, coterminous with processions being used in support of the crusade. The chronicler Emo noted the floods’ deleterious effect on crusade preaching and blamed the inundations on the sins of people and clergy alike, including usury, sexual improprieties, and improper reception of the host.75 Caesarius of Heisterbach similarly attributed the Frisian floods to irreverence for the consecrated host displayed by a pugilist who belligerently attacked a priest, but afterwards repented and died on crusade in the Holy Land. Despite the offender’s penitential actions, the floods continued because of his sins and those of the entire people until a religious matron built a church over the spot where the corpus Christi had been desecrated, which the Virgin Mary commanded be accorded as much reverence as the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem.76 74 Philip the Chancellor, ‘Sermo in diebus rogationum (‘Petite et dabitur’)’, in Paris, BnF Ms. Lat. 15933, fols 117vb–119vb (Schneyer, Repertorium, no. 202) and idem, ‘Sermo in diebus rogationum (‘Quis nostrum habebit amicum’)’, in Paris, BnF Ms. Lat. 15933, fols 119vb–121vb (Schneyer, Repertorium, no. 203). 75 C.R. Cheney, ‘Levies on the English Clergy for the Poor and for the King, 1203’, EHR, 96 (1981), 583–4; Emo, Chronicon, 1204–1234, ed. L. Weiland, MGH SS, xxiii, 465–523, at 473–5, 483–508. For Hubert Walter’s role in crusade preparations in England, see Crusade and Christendom, 47–52. 76 Caesarius of Heisterbach, Dialogus miraculorum, ii, 3–5 (vii.3).

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Peter Lombard’s sermons ‘ad plebem pro pace’ and ‘ad laicos de serenitate aeris’ (copied into the same manuscript as Odo of Cheriton’s sermons) also indicate what materia predicabilis the crusade recruiters in Frisia and Pelagius before Damietta might have drawn on for their exhortations. Peter reminds his audience that natural disasters are punishment for sins including usury, rapine, adultery, homicide, and perjury which constitute a veritable shipwreck of vice (Psalm 10: 7 and Hosea 6: 3). Mothers take away food when children waste it and so God takes away temporal things when humans misuse them. Like Elijah, they ought to first pray that the rain of sins (both in pena and culpa) cease and to focus on petitioning God to remove vice and temporal impediments to the kingdom of God rather than expressing traditional requests for the fruits of the earth, serenity of the air, and cessation of earthly floods. Prayer should be accompanied by fasting which dominates fleshly vices.77 Peter thus offers a glimpse into the kind of sermons which would have been delivered during litanic processions held on an ad hoc basis to ward off natural disasters.

The Crusade Clamour Other opportunities for promoting the crusade and explaining the new liturgy of the crusade clamour of Psalm 78 came in sermons which used distinctions to parse the various senses of the word Jerusalem into the physical Jerusalem, the Church Triumphant and Militant, and the soul. In a widely circulated letter reporting the apparitions of the Cross which accompanied his recruiting tour, Oliver of Paderborn appears to have taken up the theme of Psalm 78 after a crusade procession organized for the feast day of St Boniface, martyred while evangelizing the Frisians. Copies of the letter were made by the abbot of Saint-Victor and reached Robert of Courson, Jacques of Vitry, and Odo of Cheriton, who incorporated the missive into a treatise on Christ’s passion.78 Another contemporary preacher glossed Psalm 78 in a crusade appeal which used the image of Christ weeping over Jerusalem to berate his audience, with their hearts of iron, for failing to do 77 Peter Lombard, ‘Ad plebem pro pace’, BnF Ms 16506, fol. 78ra–rb; idem, ‘Ad laicos de serenitate aeris in ps[alm]o (10: 7)’, BnF 16506, fol. 78rb; for traditional requests, see Bailey, Processions of Sarum, 120–62. 78 Quellen zur Geschichte der Stadt Köln, ed. L. Ennen and G. Eckertz, 6 vols (Cologne, 1860–79), ii, 47, n. 42; Renier of Liège, Annales Sancti Jacobi Leodiensis, 1066–1230, ed. L.C. Bethmann, MGH SS, xvi, 651–80, at 671; Emo, Chronicon, 473–4, 499; Bird, ‘Victorines’, 13–14.

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the same.79 They ought to lament the clamositatem miseriam of the Holy Land and say with the prophet, ‘the ways of Sion mourn because there are none who come to the solemn feast, her adversaries have become her lords’ (Lam. 1:4–5). ‘O infelix eventus, eveniens infelicitas!’ ‘O God, the nations have invaded thy inheritance and polluted your holy temple, they have reduced Jerusalem to rubble. They have poured out the blood of the saints like water in its circuit and there was none to bury them. We have become a reproach to our neighbours, a scorn and source of derision to those around us’ (Ps. 78: 1, 3–4). ‘Help us, O Lord, lest they say “Where is your God?” For our adversaries insult us saying, “You trusted in the wood, but behold he himself cannot save you, where now is your glorification?” For all our hope perishes (Ps. 9: 18) and we ought to return to the heart and the foolish understand (Ps. 93: 8). But you, O Lord, respond to us, lest our adversaries conspire and say “Our mighty hand and not the Lord has accomplished all these things”’ (Deut. 32: 27). For without God the heavenly city cannot enjoy security without fear, rejoicing without sorrow, which can be achieved only through grace, hope, and faith.80 Jacques of Vitry’s and Hélinand of Froidmont’s rogational sermons likewise urged their audiences to pray for these three things so that true peace might come to Jerusalem.81 The anonymous preacher is clearly using the Holy Land clamour instituted after 1187 as a starting point for a sermon on Jerusalem as the city of God. Christ is its foundation, its gates are the doctors and prelates, its guards apostles and apostolic men. Its enemies include demons, human adversaries, concupiscence of the flesh, eyes and spirit, and worldly enticements. To guard their flock from diabolical suggestions, heretical subversions, various delights and worldly ambitions, pastors must keep vigil through the nocturnal offices, matins, and lauds. For heretical error is a creeping cancer, an asp’s venom, or poisoned dragon’s bile. Under the guise of ‘religionis virtus’ heretics come to the simple as ravening wolves in sheep’s clothing. Prelates must stand guard vigilantly to capture the little foxes ruining the Lord’s vineyard. For if faith and love are stolen, they forfeit eternal life and God himself.82 79 Anonymous, ‘Nisi dominus custodierit civitatem frustra vigilant qui custodierunt eum’, BnF nouv. acq. lat. 999, fols 276vb–77rb (the sermon also cites Psalm 121: 3, ‘Ierusalem que edificatur ut civitas’). Beleth’s Summa similarly parsed the senses of Jerusalem as: historical city, the Church Militant, faithful soul, and heavenly Jerusalem (ii, 213). 80 Anonymous, ‘Nisi dominus custodierit civitatem’, BnF nouv. acq. lat. 999, fols 276vb–ra. 81 James of Vitry, ‘Feria tertia in rogationibus,’ in Sermones in epistolas, 518; Sicard of Cremona, Mitrale, PL, ccxiii, 369; Beleth, Summa, ii, 106. 82 Anonymous, ‘Nisi dominus custodierit civitatem’, BnF nouv. acq. lat. 999, fol. 277ra–rb.

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Here is a clear use of the liturgical clamour instituted after the loss of the True Cross at Hattin and renewed by Innocent III in 1213 as a springboard for a sermon which deals with the host of threats which the crusade is being directed against in the early thirteenth century: Saracens, schismatics, and heretics. It is precious evidence for how preachers explained the crusade clamour to their audiences and adapted it to various campaigns: evidence too, of its use in Paris in support of the anti-heretical effort. It is no accident that this sermon comes from the same manuscript which preserves a crusade appeal from John of Abbeville, who similarly used Lamentations 1 and Psalm 78 to call his clerical and lay audience to follow the example of Israel fighting against the Benjamites and earn divine favour for the Fifth Crusade through abstinence from a host of sins and through confession, fasting, and prayer.83 John urged his audience to call on God, reminding him that they have become a source of opprobrium to their neighbours (Ps. 78). Their inheritance, the Promised Land and place of Christ’s passion and burial, the very Holy Cross itself have all been polluted by pagan possession like the ark in the hands of the Philistines. Unfortunately, the wicked clamour of Christians’ vices has drowned out the offensive clamour of the Gentiles’ and Jews’ shortcomings. His audience ought to dwell on their sins which continually recrucify Christ and have led them to forfeit divine grace and the Holy Land. For God has permitted the earthly Jerusalem to be captured to signify to them the captivity of the spiritual Jerusalem (Lam. 1: 10) by corrupt clergymen, proud scholars, and those who oppress the poor, widows and orphans and live from calumny, rapine, usury, and simony, eating the alms of the faithful while refusing to purge their sins through fasting and prayers, slaying their brothers by their evil example. The shame of their inability to liberate the Holy Land and hearing their enemies taunt, ‘Where is their God?’ will only be ended when like the Benjamites, they do penance, fast, and pray before battle.84 Evidence too, for the interpretation of Psalm 78, which formed the basis for the liturgical clamour instituted for the Holy Land from roughly 1187 onwards, comes from the biblical commentaries of the Paris reformer Peter the Chanter and his predecessor Gilbert of Poitiers. While both men gloss 83 ‘Sermo Magistri Iohannis de Albavilla ad crucesignatos’, BnF nouv. acq. lat. 999, fols 169va– 170ra, edited in Penny Cole, The Preaching of the Crusades to the Holy Land, 1095–1270 (Cambridge MA, 1991), 222–6. The Holy Land clamours which followed Psalm 78 typically focused on the sins of the people (Linder, Raising Arms, 40–1). John’s contemporary Stephen Langton offered a similar interpretation of the Levite’s wife and the Benjamites in his biblical commentaries (Paris, BnF Ms. Lat. 384, fols 97vb–98ra). 84 Cole, Preaching, 222–6.

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the psalm ‘Deus venerunt in hereditatem gentes’ as a call to individual and social repentance, Peter interprets the pollution of God’s temple in multiple senses: in historical terms as that of Antiochus placing the abomination of the desolation in the Temple in Jerusalem, in literal terms as the capture of Jerusalem by Saladin and in moral terms as the pollution of God’s church by ‘pravis moribus’, heresy, and tainted offerings derived from extortion and usury.85 Gilbert of Poitiers’ commentary on the same psalm focused on the historical desecration of Jerusalem by Antiochus (in the time of the Maccabees) and by Titus and Vespasian. Although the death of the saints and martyrs is precious in God’s sight, the oppression of Jerusalem is also temporal correction, God’s permitting the gentes to triumph because of sin. The psalm’s request for God’s vengeance for the blood of his servants and his ire to be poured out on his enemies refers to those oppressing the church who would otherwise taunt ‘Where is their God?’ and to the need to slay sins.86 Such was the raw material shaped by liturgists and sermonists into crusade appeals.

Peccatis exigentibus Rogational sermons similarly lent themselves handily to the calls to reform so beloved by crusade preachers of this era and to the denunciation of the vices of every social group, particularly the unworthy reception of the Eucharist, the sexual sins of the laity and clergy, and usury. One sermon labelled as suitable for Rogations or Septuagesima reminds various categories of sinners of the hellfire awaiting them if they forget that worldly glory is fleeting. The preacher reminds prelates and bishops of their duty to serve, savaging the ambitious who chase worldly honours and neglect hearing the confessions of women, visiting the sick, and administering the sacraments. He similarly attacks the avaricious, gluttonous, and usurers who attempt to escape confession to their priest and discipline in this life and do not realize that they face the Last Judgment and unimaginable torments in hell or purgatory in the next.87 Another preacher used the destruction of Jerusalem during Passover (Ps. 77: 34), the Flood, and the inguinal plague visited on the Romans which led to the institution of the litany which his audience was observing to warn his audience of impending judgment. The 85 Peter the Chanter, Commentary on the Psalms, Paris, BnF Ms. Lat. 14426, fols 62va–63ra. 86 Gilbert of Poitiers, Commentary on the Psalms, Paris, BnF Ms. Lat. 17210, fols 118v–119v. 87 Anonymous, ‘Filii, memorare novissima tua (Sirach 7: 40)’, BnF Lat. 14470, fols 229ra–vb.

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Romans who had kept the Lenten fast only to indulge in feasting, ludis, and lust after the Easter reception of Christ the Paschal Lamb’s body and blood in the Eucharist were struck by a plague until Pelagius and Gregory the Great commanded the entire people to fast and implore God’s mercy with litanies. He likewise warns his audience to ensure that their own reception of Christ on the feast of the Ascension becomes not an occasion for ruin but for spiritual resurrection.88 Jacques of Vitry also used the historical circumstances of the litanies’ foundation to remind his audience of the ways in which, because of their sins, God punished the sins of his people in the past with disasters and sudden death, including the Romans who like so many of his contemporaries, received the body of Christ unworthily on Easter day, or after receiving it, recanted their Lenten observances and fell back into sin.89 Jacques interprets the inguinal plague visited upon the Romans as the plague of lust and urges his audience to use the litanic processions to beseech God to preserve them from this and other dangers. He follows this advice with a veritable jeremiad against sexual sins akin to the opening passages of his Historia Occidentalis. Similar to the Philistines who captured the ark, clergy and laity alike have been struck in their most secret parts. They have become like the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah, like the Saracens who think that bodily washing cleanses them from sexual sins and shamelessly fornicate with either sex and animals like unclean dogs. Lest they be subject to similar judgment, they must conquer the plague of sexual excess (stimulated by over-indulgence in food and pride) by the fasting, prayer, and almsgiving which they observe in today’s litany.90 Moralized Bibles, treatises, and biblical commentaries produced in Paris suggest a unified message shared by contemporary Cistercians and popes. The capture of the True Cross at Hattin was likened to that of the ark of the Old Testament; both were occasioned by the corruption of the clergy and the people and the appropriate response was penitential. Yet as Langton noted in a commentary written roughly contemporary to the disasters of 88 Anonymous, ‘Prophetia triasyrtica est prophetice predixi David destructionem urb[is] ierusalem factam per romanos’, BnF Lat. 14470, fols 323vb–324rb, also in BnF Lat. 14593, fols 95ra–va. The sermon is followed in both manuscripts by ‘Cum universitatem criminum non sufficiat numerare’, BnF Lat. 14470, fols 324rb–325vb and BnF Lat. 14593, fols 95va–97ra. For similar fears concerning the unworthy reception of communion at Easter by the laity and clergy and recommendations for sexual abstinence symbolized by story of David and Abimelech, see Beleth, Summa, i, 223–7; Bible moralisée Codex Vindobonensis 2554, fol. 39r–v. 89 J. de Vitry, ‘In maiori laetania, scilicet sancti Marci’, 501. 90 J. de Vitry, ‘In maiori laetania, scilicet sancti Marci’, 502–3; idem, Hist. Occ., 73–103.

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1187, although the reprobate Eli died of grief at the news of the capture of the ark, ‘there are many good people who, hearing that the land of Jerusalem has been captured, are not even affected’ (multi … sunt boni qui audientes quod terra ierusalem capta est nec etiam moventur).91 Another of Jacques’s rogational sermons follows his western and eastern histories in blaming contemporary disasters on the staggering list of vices infesting clergy and laity alike, including heresy. He assures his audience that God will show them mercy if they repent in their time of tribulation through contrition, fasting and hair shirts, prayer and alms, which combat lust, pride, and avarice.92 The reform of society in western Christendom and Outremer was crucial to the success of the crusade.

Almsgiving and the Crusade Rogational sermons also offer a valuable opportunity to see how preachers introduced their audiences to the complexities of proper almsgiving. Innocent III and his successors had urged every church organizing the processions to install a wooden trunk for donations to the crusade. Members of Peter the Chanter’s circle appointed to preach the crusade possessed serious reservations about the suitability of alms derived from potentially tainted sources (simony, rapine, usury) being applied even to worthy projects such as the crusade.93 How did they translate the complicated treatments in 91 For the image of Eli, see Bird, ‘Heresy, Crusade and Reform’, 36–7 and 152; Phillips, ‘Thief’s Cross’, n. 3, 144; Odo of Cheriton, Dominica prima in adventu, in Paris, BnF Ms. Lat. 16506, fols 115rb–va; J. de Vitry, Sermo ad crucesignatos vel –signandos, ed. Maier, Propaganda, 1.14, 93; Stephen Langton, Glossa in Biblia, Paris, BnF, Ms. Lat. 384, fols 100va–101ra, citation at 100vb; B. Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (Notre Dame IN, 1964), 181. 92 J. de Vitry, ‘Feria tertia in rogationibus … “Amice commoda mihi tres panes”’, in Sermones in epistolas, 514–19, at 514–15. Jacques uses the phrases ‘exigentibus peccatis populorum’ (514), ‘peccatis nostris exigentibus’ (515), and ‘frigescet charitas multorum’ (518–19), which recur in his histories (e.g. Hist. Occ., 73–9 [c. 1], and passim; Hist. Or., 96–104 [cc. 1–2], 280–94 [cc. 70–3], 332–6 [c. 83], 418–24 [c. 94], 436 [c. 96], 444–6 [c. 99]). 93 On almsgiving and poverty, see S.E. Young, Scholarly Community at the Early University of Paris: theologians, education and society, 1215–1248 (Cambridge, 2014), 131–67; S. Farmer, Surviving Poverty in Medieval Paris: gender, ideology and the daily lives of the poor (Cornell, 2002); M. Mollat, Études sur l’histoire de la pauvreté: Moyen Âge–XVIe siècle, 2 vols (Paris, 1974); idem, The Poor in the Middle Ages: an essay in social history, trans. A. Goldhammer (New Haven CT, 1986). On usurers, see J.W. Baldwin, Masters, Princes and Merchants: the social views of Peter the Chanter and his circle, 2 vols (Princeton NJ, 1970), i, 201–2, 261–311; J. Bird, ‘Reform or Crusade? Anti–usury and crusade preaching during the pontificate of Innocent III’, in Pope Innocent III and His World, ed. J.C. Moore (Farnham, 1999), 165–87; Bird, ‘Heresy, Crusade and Reform’, 236–82.

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their summae and confessorial manuals to homiletical advice? One sermon on the Seven Works of Mercy noted that the almsgiver should scrutinize his motives and ensure that alms came from his own possessions, not from another’s as in the case of theft, rapine, and other dubious practices. Such alms displease God. To give alms extorted from the poor and powerless is like sacrificing the son before the father. Charity must begin with one’s neighbour. Sinners should repent first and not give alms in search of public praise, but rather with a compassionate heart, with kind words and according to their own resources as did the ideal almsgiver, Mary Magdalene. Her anointing of Christ’s feet became a handy mnemonic for giving alms to the poor with compassion and kind words.94 Another sermon dedicated to discretion in preaching and almsgiving urged its audience to consider the worthiness of the recipients and see that they did not give alms from anything acquired by theft or usury or from ‘tainted profit’ (de sordido questu) but rather from ‘untainted earnings or inheritance’ (puro lucro vel patrimonio). Donors ought to weigh who is the neediest. The biblical injunction to find a just man as a recipient for alms is interpreted as dispersing alms widely, not giving everything to a wealthy monastery or one’s own relations while allowing the poor to die from hunger. Those who extort possessions from the poor only to give them to the unworthy become thieves or brigands. Those who give alms improperly from Christ’s patrimony or from goods acquired by thievery, usury or other illicit means will reap no spiritual benefit. The preacher illustrates his point with the anecdote of a usurer who refused to repent despite having his house ransacked by a demon and died without confession.95 Yet another anonymous homilist presented rogational almsgiving as a means of curing obsession with worldly goods and cares and instructed his audience on how to find the deserving poor, as did Jacques of Vitry’s sermons for the greater litany, which warned his audience that those who stretched their hands out to God in prayer would be ignored unless they extended a helping hand to the impoverished according to their resources, thus earning allies who would pray for them.96 Philip the Chancellor’s sermons for Rogations also focused 94 Anonymous, ‘Qui docet manus meas ad prelium’, BnF Lat. 14470, fols 330rb–vb. 95 Anonymous, ‘Exiit qui seminat semen’, BnF Lat. 14470, fols 290rb–91ra (labelled by a marginalist as ‘dominica tertia post epyphania’) at fol. 290va–vb. The preacher continues with an assault on lust similar to that in Jacques’s rogational sermon (fols 290vb–291ra). The sermon is followed by another ‘in ascensione’, which attacks vice and stresses the power of the Eucharist (fols 291ra–293ra). 96 Anonymous, ‘Amice, comoda mihi tres panes’, BnF Lat. 14470, fols 293ra–94va, at fol. 294vb; J. de Vitry, ‘Feria tertia in rogationibus’, 515.

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on the power of almsgiving as a form of penance and a means of winning divine favour (as did his sermons for the crusade). However, he warned his audiences that in redeeming their sins with alms, they ought to give with discretion and utility in mind in order to earn advocates before God in the form of the grateful poor and Christ himself. His sermons attacked usurers, grain-hoarders, and the avaricious as unworthy of divine pardon and particularly urged the clergy and monasteries to be generous in giving alms as they lived from Christ’s patrimony. However, he followed his contemporaries (including those preaching the crusade responsible for collecting funds from the penitent) in warning against accepting tainted gifts from those who wished to appear penitent but refused to make restitution, including unsavory mercenaries (coterelli et roteri), arsonists, and presumably usurers.97

A Monastery on the Move? Rogational processions provided a ritual union between the Church Militant and Triumphant, an overt appeal to the intercession of the saints, reinforced by a procession which wended its way to local shrines, churches, and relics, tying the crusade to local saints often themselves linked to the Holy Land through their vitae or relics. The processions also united the concept of the defence of the faith and martyrdom. Rogational sermons cast light on the high value attached to prayers for the crusade effort, not only those of the regular religious, but for the laity and secular clergy, who were increasingly being called on to act as temporary regular religious through penitential observances to win divine favour for the crusade enterprise. That religious orders’ intercessions were prized by lay and clerical participants in the crusades is clear from surviving requests for the prayers of the Cistercian and Praemonstratensian Orders for the Albigensian and Holy Land crusades. The Cistercians were involved in liturgical support for the Holy Land crusade before 1193 and appear to have taken the Mass of the Holy Spirit utilized for the Holy Land clamour and applied it to the liturgical life of the Albigensian Crusade.98 The Cistercians and their Paris-trained allies including William of Pontde-l’Arches, who preached the crusade with Jacques de Vitry, Guy, abbot of Vaux-de-Cernay, Arnaud-Amaury, and Fulk, bishop of Toulouse, forged a spiritual army composed of crusading bishops, abbots, monks, and clergy, who clad in white vestments and with bare feet, bearing the relics of the 97 See nn. 6 and 93 above. 98 Linder, Raising Arms, 2–3, 26–7, 30–1, 41–3, 99; n. 1 above.

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saints and liturgical Crosses, called for divine aid by singing the Veni Creator Spiritus, Sanctus Spiritus, and Hostem repellas longius.99 They continually reminded the crusaders of the need to give alms, confess, pray, and celebrate Mass and used excommunication to symbolize the non-Christian state of their technically Christian foes.100 Simon de Montfort gave thanks for victories by processing with bare feet and deeding his horse and arms to the poor in alms.101 Conrad of Urach, a former Cistercian abbot and later legate for the crusade sent atrocity stories from the Albigensian Crusade to the Cistercian general chapter in 1221 with the result that a prayer was instituted for the crusade while Peter of Vaux-de-Cernay stressed the efficacy of the suffrages offered by the church for the crusaders’ military success, particularly those of his own Cistercian Order.102 During the campaign of the Fifth Crusade, Jacques of Vitry requested prayers from fellow crusade preachers, Paris masters including Philip the Chancellor and the mulieres sanctae and Cistercian nuns of Flanders– Brabant.103 The vitae of these women, who included Lutgard of Aywières, Marie of Oignies, and Christina Mirabilis illustrate the new emphasis being placed on the moral state and suffrages of those who could not participate in the military aspects of the crusade campaign. For example, the Virgin Mary appeared to Lutgard and told her that her son was being recrucified by heretics and wicked Christians. Lutgard must fast for seven years to avert divine ire.104 Christina Mirabilis foretold the taking of Jerusalem and the True Cross by Saladin and warned that divine vengeance threatened Christendom for its sins.105 Marie of Oignies was prevented by Jacques of Vitry and others from personally participating in the anti-heretical crusade, but her vita, which Jacques wrote for Fulk, bishop of Toulouse, as 99 Peter of Vaux-de-Cernay, Hystoria albigensis, ed. P. Guébin and E. Lyon, 3 vols (Paris, 1926–39), ii, 47–8, sect. 351. See also i, 96, sect. 95, and ii, 214–15, 218–21, sects. 520, 524, 526; The Song of the Cathar Wars, trans J. Shirley, (Aldershot, 1996), 57, laisse 114. 100 VDC, i, 271–2, sect. 276, and ii, 146–7, 149, 151–3, sects. 453–4, 457–8, 461–2. 101 VDC, ii, 157–8, sect. 466. 102 VDC, i, 252–3, 273–4, sects. 253, 277 and vol. 3, xxxvi–vii. 103 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 71, 75–6 (ep. 1), 79 (ep. 2), 101, 109–11 (ep. 4), 123, 131–3 (ep. 6), 134 (ep. 7). The ties between Paris reformers and the mulieres sanctae of Flanders–Brabant are too elaborate to detail here. The best introductions to the early beguines remain E.W. McDonnell, The Beguines and Beghards in Medieval Culture with special emphasis upon the Belgian scene (New Brunswick NJ, 1954); B. Bolton, ‘Mulieres sanctae’, in Sanctity and Secularity: the church and the world, ed. D. Baker, SCH, 10 (Oxford, 1973), 77–95; and n. 106 below. 104 Thomas of Cantimpré, Vita Lutgardis virginae, in AA SS June 3 (Antwerp, 1701), 234–52, trans. M.H. King, The Life of Lutgard of Aywières (Toronto, 1987), 21, 40. 105 Thomas of Cantimpré, Vita de Sancte Christina Mirabili Virgine, AA SS July 5 (Antwerp, 1727), 650–60; The Life of Christina the Astonishing, trans. M.H. King (Toronto, 1999), 28, 38–9.

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anti-heretical propaganda, stressed the power of her intercessory prayers, visions, and orthodox sanctity in combating heresy.106 Copious evidence also survives from Cistercian general chapter meetings and letters addressed to Gervase of Prémontré, head of the Praemonstratensian Order, from Simon de Montfort’s widow Alice107 and John of Brienne, king of Jerusalem,108 to harness the mighty network of Praemonstratensian houses to promote their crusades through prayers and preaching. In one letter written during the campaign of the Fifth Crusade, Gervase, having heard reports from returning crusaders, praises John for his perseverance and assures him that although his order cannot wield the material sword in his aid, they are offering with the ‘profoundest piety of the heart’ (intima devotione cordis) the sacrifice of their lips. Like Moses, with hands upraised, they will not cease besieging God with prayers until he fights on behalf of those believing in him.109

Conclusion The powerful effects of monastic prayer had long been prized by patrons and donors and the efficacy of these prayers was believed to be directly linked to the austerity of regular religious life. However, the idea that this 106 Bird, Heresy, ‘Crusade and Reform’, 86–119. For the vita, previous editions and translations have been superseded by Mary of Oignies: mother of salvation, ed. A. Mulder-Bakker (Turnhout, 2007). For Fulk of Toulouse, see N.M. Schulman, Where Troubadours were Bishops: the Occitania of Folc of Marseille (1150–1231) (New York, 2001). 107 Alice wrote from the siege of Toulouse just after Simon’s death in 1219. Gervase was very cautious about preaching the crusade without explicit papal or legatine authority. He appears to be trying to get Alice to procure from either the legate near him or the ‘lord cardinal’ (perhaps the legate Bertrand or Simon of Tyre) a letter addressed to him so he can cause the crusade to be preached and papal indulgences to be publicized by members of his Order. He deliberately interprets Alice’s request for prayers as a personal request for the deceased Simon whom he assures her has had the prayers and Masses owed to a full confrater and also other prayers and alms throughout the Order. See Gervase of Prémontré, Epistolae, in C.L. Hugo, ed., Sacrae antiquitatis monumenta historica, dogmatica, diplomatica (Étival, 1725), i, 86–7, no. 97. 108 Immediately after his election as king of Jerusalem, John of Brienne promised to send newsletters to the general chapter at Prémontré in return for the Order’s prayers. He received the prayer traditionally said in aid of the Holy Land with a special collect added for him in all Praemonstratensian churches said at the elevation of the Host at Mass, with the later addition of a collect of the Holy Spirit. He continued to send the order requests for prayers and bulletins on the situation in the Holy Land. See Gervase of Prémontré, Epistolae, ed. Hugo, i, 36–8, 76–7, 102–3 nos. 36–7, 86, 115. 109 Gervase of Prémontré, Epistolae, ed. Hugo, i, 102–3 no. 115.

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role of supportive prayer bolstered by the requisite disciplines of fasting, almsgiving, and at least temporary sexual continence could be assigned to the laity at large came through the application of the Lenten and rogational traditions to the crusade. Prayers instituted within the Mass and monthly processions were deliberately linked by Innocent III and his successors to the very efficacy of the crusade indulgence itself, which was tied less to the residual merits of the saints and Christ and the highly evolved doctrine of the treasury of merits (which only came about much later), and more to the current penitential means utilized by the crusader (the physical and financial hardships of the journey) and the community on his behalf in the suffrages (prayers, processions, fasting, alms) instituted by Innocent III for the crusade.110 Just as ecclesiastics expected crusaders on campaign to act in a quasiregular manner in order to earn divine favour through fasting, almsgiving, and prayers, often in a processional form which followed a deliberate attempt to reform the ‘society’ of the camp through banning prostitutes, gambling, etc., so the same quasi-regular forms of suffrages utilized by the crusaders on campaign and efforts to curb usury, sexual licence, and other vices were applied to the clergy and laity in western Christendom. Processions, fasting, alms, and prayer now defined the home as much as the military front: both were equally spiritually militarized, eroding the distinction between crusader and non-crusader. For with the wider availability of the crusading vow and partial indulgences granted to individuals who attended crusading sermons and processions, engaged in devout almsgiving, funded a substitute, or otherwise aided the crusade, the distinction between partial and plenary crusade indulgences (the latter originally earned through at least the intention of personal participation) began to crumble.111 The concepts of militia Christi and spiritual warfare adopted by regular religious as a communal opportunity for individual salvation were reapplied to a novel militia Christi, a new communal network providing the means for individual salvation, either as part of the crusading army in fulfilling one’s vow or 110 For the treasury of merits, see R.W. Shaffern, ‘Images, Jurisdiction and the Treasury of Merit’, Journal of Medieval History, 22 (1996), 237–47; R. Shaffern, The Penitent’s Treasury: indulgences in Latin Christendom 1175–1375 (Scranton NJ, 2007), esp. 79–113. On indulgences and the circle of Peter the Chanter, see Bird, ‘Heresy, Crusade and Reform’, 183–235; eadem, ‘Innocent III, Peter the Chanter’s Circle, and the Crusade Indulgence: theory, implementation, and aftermath’, in Innocenzo III, i, 503–24. 111 For the erosion of this distinction, which was a gradual and by no means inevitable process, see n. 110 above and J. Bird, ‘Vow and Privileges’, ‘Indulgences and Penance’, and ‘Finance of the Crusade’ in the The Crusades: an encyclopedia, ed. A.V. Murray, 4 vols. (Santa Barbara CA, 2006).

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participation in the suffrages of alms, fasting, prayers, and processions at home. It was this last which had been lacking in an organized sense for those who were deemed unfit to physically go on crusade. Even if their vows were commuted or they participated through donations, the communality element had been left to their imagination to construct. Innocent III and his preachers would construct the ‘monastery on the move’ for all of western Christendom to participate in.112 About the author: Jessalynn Bird, Saint Mary’s College, Notre Dame, IN

112 For ‘monastery on the move’, see Riley-Smith, The First Crusade, 84. For exchange of concepts between monastic and military communities, see Smith, War; W.J. Purkis, Crusading Spirituality in the Holy Land and Iberia, c.1095–c.1187 (Woodbridge, 2008); ‘Militia Christi’ e crociata nei secoli XI–XIII. Atti della undecima settimana internazionale di studio. Mendola, 28 agosto–1 settembre, 1989, Miscellanea del Centro di studi medioevali, 13 (Milan, 1992).

9. The Stones of Damietta: remembering the Fifth Crusade Megan Cassidy-Welch

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch9 Abstract This article examines the transformation of Damietta’s sacred space across the thirteenth century. In so doing, it shows how places were used by medieval commentators to convey particular stories about the past and how those stories underpinned contemporary ambitions. These stories, told both by eyewitnesses and by those far removed from the events of the crusades, also reveal something of how the Fifth Crusade itself was remembered after the early thirteenth century and during the Seventh Crusade. The city of Damietta was intrinsic to early memories of the crusade, but as the years went by and the Fifth Crusade receded into a distant past, the individual royal crusader – King Louis IX – came to embody and convey crusade memory. Keywords: Damietta; memory; Louis IX; Seventh Crusade; Fifth Crusade

In March 1220 the bishop of Acre, Jacques de Vitry, wrote a letter to Pope Honorius III in which he described in triumphant tones the capture of the Egyptian port city of Damietta. The city that was the glory of the pagans, the city that was the security of unbelievers, the city most heavily fortified and unconquered, besieged many times by many kings and people and never overcome, in our days He subdued it for the Holy Church and the army of Christians.1 1 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 123 (ep. 6): ‘civitatem glorie paganorum, civitatem fiducie incredulorum, civitatem munitissimam et inexpugnabilem, a multis regibus et populis olim pluries obsessam et nunquam superatam, in diebus nostris sancte ecclesie et exercitui christianorum subiecit’. All translations are the author’s own, unless otherwise indicated.

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Although he disclosed later in this letter that the horror of siege warfare weighed heavily on his mind, Jacques de Vitry wanted to communicate the miraculous and wonderful nature of this great victory for the armies of the Fifth Crusade. As with his contemporary Oliver of Paderborn, he wrote of the ‘cleansing’ of the city in the aftermath of the siege and described a lantern-lit procession which passed through streets recently cleared of corpses. This procession ended at a significant religious site – the main mosque of Damietta. On the Feast of the Purification (2 February), this mosque was transformed into a cathedral, dedicated to the Virgin and consecrated by the papal legate Cardinal Pelagius. It seems to have been one of a number of newly Christianized sites in Damietta: as Jacques writes: ‘many other churches were set up within the city limits with the expulsion of the faithless Muhammad’.2 Eyewitness accounts of the Fifth Crusade which described the cleansing of the city and the consecration of the former mosque as a cathedral laid the foundations for a number of medieval Christian claims to Damietta throughout the thirteenth century and beyond. During the Fifth Crusade, Damietta’s capture was narrated by witnesses such as Jacques de Vitry to assert general Christian ownership of Egypt, to illustrate the success of the crusade and to suggest the possibility of wide-reaching conversions. A few decades later in the mid-thirteenth century, when Damietta was captured once more, this time by troops on the Seventh Crusade, the city’s sacred landscape was consciously linked to the personal piety of Louis IX of France as an ideal crusader and defender of Christian property. By the fourteenth century (and subsequently), the Christianization of Damietta had been entirely absorbed into the cultural memory of the French royal house, as part of a longer tale of spiritual and monarchical achievement through military activity. This article examines how ideas about the transformation of Damietta’s sacred space shifted across time and context. In so doing, it shows how places were used by medieval commentators to convey particular stories about the past and how those stories underpinned contemporary ambitions. These stories, told both by eyewitnesses and by those far removed from the events of the crusades, also reveal something of how the Fifth Crusade itself was remembered across the decades after the early thirteenth century. The city of Damietta was intrinsic to early memories of the crusade, but as the years went by and the Fifth Crusade receded 2 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 127 (ep. 6): ‘Multis etiam aliis infra civitatis ambitum constitutes ecclesiis eiecto perfido Machometo’.

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into a distant past, the individual royal crusader came to embody and convey remembrance of the crusade. Places of crusade memory, then, came to be overshadowed by individuals with their own designs on the crusading past.

Conversions of Sacred Space The conversion of non-Christian sacred sites into Christian churches had a long history in the Middle Ages. An early missionary to the British Isles was reminded that ‘if the [pagan] temples are well built it is necessary that they should be converted from the worship of demons to the service of the true God’, rather than be destroyed.3 And although Martin, bishop of Tours, was famous for what has been colourfully described as ‘temple-smashing exploits’, his biographer tells us that Martin ‘immediately built a church or monastery at every place where he destroyed a pagan shrine’, thus retaining what had been delineated as sacred space but overlaying it with a new and Christian construction. 4 During the time of the crusades, the conversion of mosques into churches was particularly apparent in the Iberian peninsula, where the transformation of sacred space during the Spanish reconquest occurred over centuries. The process of conversion of a site started with its initial consecration after conquest and often ended, sometimes decades later, with the construction of a new building in place of the original.5 This process was not always uniform across the peninsula and with the complex shifting of power across the entire period of the Spanish reconquest, some sites changed hands several times. Nonetheless, the reconfiguration of mosques into churches seems to have remained a significant demonstration of Christian successes and it is not surprising that we find the same practice

3 Pope Gregory I, Epistola ad Mellitum, recorded in Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, ed. B. Colgrave and R.A.B. Mynors (Oxford, 1969), 108–9 (c. 30): ‘si fana eadem bene constructa sunt, necesse est, ut a cultu daemonum in obsequio veri Dei debeat commutari’. 4 Sulpicius, cited in Richard Fletcher, The Barbarian Conversion: from paganism to Christianity (Berkeley and Los Angeles CA, 1997), 47. 5 P. Buresi, ‘La conversion d’églises et de mosquées en Espagne aux XIe–XIIIe siècles’, Religion et société au Moyen Âge: études offertes à Jean-Louis Biget par ses anciens élèves, ed. P. Boucheron and J. Chiffoleau (Paris, 2000), 333–50. See also A.G. Remensnyder, ‘The Colonization of Sacred Architecture: the Virgin Mary, mosques, and temples in medieval Spain and early sixteenthcentury Mexico’, in Monks and Nuns, Saints and Outcasts: religion in medieval society, ed. S. Farmer and B. Rosenwein (Ithaca NY, 2000), 189–219 and J.A. Harris, ‘Mosque to Church Conversions in the Spanish Reconquest’, Medieval Encounters 3.2 (1997), 158–72.

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in both the Holy Land – famously the Al-Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem – and then in North Africa during the crusading period. The two main eyewitness sources for the consecration of the Damietta site are Jacques de Vitry’s letters and Oliver of Paderborn’s history of the capture of Damietta. Both men were concerned to narrate the history of the crusade as a providential and moralistic episode that could explain both victory and, eventually, defeat. At the same time, as eyewitnesses to the events they describe, both Jacques de Vitry and Oliver of Paderborn intended to communicate their own personal memories of what transpired in Egypt to a variety of audiences both immediate and future. Jacques de Vitry’s letters are particularly interesting in this regard as they report events as they were played out, thus ultimately reading as a story of anticipation, difficulty, triumph, and eventual defeat. Four of his six crusade letters were written and presumably sent from Damietta and it is in the letter conventionally numbered six (in Huygens’s edition) that he details the capture of the city and the consecration of the ‘new’ cathedral.6 This letter was, as were Jacques’s other letters, addressed to multiple recipients, in this case Pope Honorius III, Jean de Nivelles, and abbess Lutgard and the convent of Aywières in Brabant. Its opening tells a tale of providential victory in a combination of words and phrases from the Song of Songs, I Corinthians, and the Psalms – ‘[the Lord] has broken the gates of brass and cut the bars of iron asunder’, Jacques wrote, ‘He has cut off the horns of the wicked, opening a great door for us to subdue the infidels and spread the power of Christ’.7 The capture of Damietta would create ‘a new sort of plantation’ and ‘where so often was invoked the cursed name of the faithless Muhammad, a name to be abominated that the mouth of the Devil named, henceforth will be invoked the blessed name of Jesus Christ’.8 Jacques envisaged the conversion of the Egyptians, hoping that with the capture of Damietta, ‘from the West to the East, the light of truth shall return’.9 He then depicts not only the underhand attempts of the ‘Saracens’ to foster dissension and discord among the Franks by making duplicitous offers of peace but also the frailty of the inhabitants of the city under siege. In this 6 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 123–33 (ep. 6). 7 J. de Vitry, Lettres, 123 (ep. 6): ‘portas ereas contrivit et vectes ferreos confregit … cornua peccatorum confregit, aperiens nobis hostium magnum ad subiugationem inf idelium et ad ampliandum Christi imperium’. 8 Ibid., ‘novella plantatio’; ‘ubi tociens invocatum est nomen maledictum perfidi Machometi, nomen abhominabile, quod os demonis nominavit, invocetur amodo nomen benedictum Iesu Christi’. 9 Ibid., 124 (ep. 6), ‘ab Occidente ab Orientem lumen veritatis revertatur’.

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letter, he expatiates at some length on the human cost of siege warfare, recording that the remaining inhabitants of the besieged city ‘were very few; the others were dead or sick with hunger and disease’. Later that same month when the crusaders finally entered Damietta, they found only 3,000 of an 80,000 population still alive – too few to bury the many corpses that littered the streets of the city. ‘The stench of fetid air was too much for most people to bear’, he recalled.10 It was after clearing the city of the dead that the mosque was transformed into a church. The contrast between the enfeebled population of Damietta who even in battle were cowardly, stupefied by the strength of the crusader army, and panic-stricken (in stuporem, et pusillanimitatem conversi et confusi) and the strength of the ‘new plantation’ of Christian occupation was symbolized by the ceremony conducted in the old mosque.11 This was a memorial service of thanksgiving, conducted by the papal legate. Jacques reported that it was an emotional affair ‘with tears and intense popular devotion’ evident in the crowd that filled that great basilica, while the Divine Office was repeated ‘day and night without a break’ throughout the city.12 The gathering in the new cathedral commemorated a military and spiritual victory by providing a moment for thanks, by ritually cleansing the city of its past pollution (both physical and spiritual) and by delineating the building itself as a new venue for ongoing remembrance. The mosque was now the seat of an archbishopric and the centre of newly Christianized city, the lordship of which was formally entrusted to the king of Jerusalem. Spatial claims over Damietta were then extended: the houses of the city were divided up amongst the various crusading groups and the remaining population was either ransomed, enslaved, or in the case of some five hundred infants and children, were baptized and given away – some to Jacques’s friends.13 The occupation of the city was similarly recorded in other texts, which also noted that Damietta’s ‘high church, formerly the chief mosque’ was provided with a new archbishop and that various lords and princes were given ‘rich and handsome residences within Damietta’.14 The Rothelin Continuator also reported that the churches which had been mosques were furnished with rich adornments, and that ‘great care and 10 Ibid., 127 (ep. 6), ‘quod feterem et aeris corruptionem vix aliquis poterat sustinere’. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid., ‘cum lacrimis et magna populi devotione celebravit in qua etiam sedem archiepiscopalem instituit’. 13 Ibid., 128 (ep. 6). 14 Crusader Syria in the Thirteenth Century: the Rothelin continuator of the History of William of Tyre with part of the Eracles or Acre text, trans. J. Shirley (Farnham, 1999), 89.

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determination, great thought and judgment did the king apply to these things and to others by which the service of our Lord should be maintained in the city of Damietta and in that land, and the Christian faith be upheld and respected’.15 Another first-hand account is provided by Oliver of Paderborn. Like Jacques de Vitry, Oliver of Paderborn reported in his chronicle that the aftermath of the siege was horrific to witness. He provides a graphic account of the corpse-strewn streets of Damietta, the suffering of its inhabitants, and the decimation of the population. He links the fate of the people to prophecy, quoting Isaiah – ‘instead of a sweet smell there shall be stench, as rotten carcass shall not have company in burial’16 – and also numbers the dead at 80,000. The conversion of the mosque is narrated in more detail in Oliver’s account. He particularly emphasizes the scale of the mosque itself and tells us something of its interior architecture, describing the installation of new altars dedicated to St Peter, St Bartholomew, the Virgin, and the Holy Cross and recording the building’s grandiose scale. Oliver wrote: The mosque of Damietta, through the invocation of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, was converted into a church of the blessed and glorious Virgin Mary. Being built in square form, we can see almost as much of its width as we can of its length. It is supported by one hundred and forty-one marble columns, having seven porticoes, and in the middle a long wide-open space in which a pyramid ascends on high in the manner of a ciborium; beyond the west side a tower rises in the manner of a campanile. Four main altars are built in it: the first under the title of the Blessed Mary; the second of Peter, the Prince of the Apostles; the third of the Holy Cross; the fourth of blessed Bartholomew on whose feast the tower in the river was captured.17

Oliver of Paderborn’s account of the newly converted mosque is striking for a number of reasons, not the least of which is his overt attempt to connect the visual dimensions of the structure with familiar European and Christian architectural forms. The campanile-like tower, the ciborium-like pyramid – these are described in ways which not only resonate with western 15 Shirley, Crusader Syria, 89. 16 Isa. 3: 24 17 Oliver of Paderborn, 239–40. Translation in Crusade and Christendom, 192–3. See also D. Pringle, The Churches of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem: A–K. 1 (Cambridge, 1993), 203; J. Folda, Crusader Art in the Holy Land from the Third Crusade to the Fall of Acre, 1187–1291 (New York, 2005).

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observers of the built environment, but which also render the old mosque as a space devoid of any non-Christian visual history. The observer (in this case the reader of Oliver’s text) is invited to see a western structure in a newly Christianized landscape – not an unfamiliar building in an unfamiliar world. The deliberate familiarizing of the Egyptian environment is also emphasized in a later portion of Oliver’s text, where he describes the land surrounding Damietta in terms of its biblical associations. He notes that a church dedicated to the Virgin stands between Cairo and Babylon (Alexandria) some three days from Damietta, which was the place where Mary and Christ stopped to rest. He tells of a garden located one mile from Cairo in which Mary was said to have washed the clothes of the infant Christ, and which now contains a tree from which balsam emanates: ‘the master of this garden is a Christian’, writes Oliver, ‘having Christian and Saracen servants under him’.18 Others, including Jacques de Vitry, were also keen to connect the occupation of Egypt with a longer tale of Christian ownership described in the biblical accounts. The Egyptian landscape, where the undulating Nile seemed almost magical in its power to simultaneously flood and fertilize, was certainly strange to these writers of the Fifth Crusade. However, it was also a place that was also profoundly recognizable and constantly animated as a sacred space in the collective Christian imagination. Recent work by Amy Remensnyder has shown how consecrations of mosques as churches during the medieval and early modern periods were always acts of eradication intended to ‘remove the stain of Islamic idolatry’.19 This was effected by similar rituals throughout the Iberian peninsula and beyond which included procession around the exterior of the building, prayer, the physical acts of sprinkling the walls and floor with holy water and waving thuribles of incense throughout the space. Thirteenth-century commentators on the ritual of consecration noted the particular symbolism of sprinkling holy water: Jacobus de Voragine, for instance, was clear that there were three reasons for this liturgical effort – to drive out the Devil, to purify the space, and to remove all maledictions.20 Likewise, the specific dedication of the former mosque to Mary was particularly important. As an inviolate and chaste figure, Mary symbolized an enduring purity; as 18 Oliver of Paderborn, 262–3: ‘Magister huius horti christianus est habens sub se christianos et sarracenos ministros’. Jacques de Vitry also mentions the balsam plant, see Lettres, 103 (ep. 4), ‘vinea balsami unde sit chrisma’. 19 A. Remensnyder, La Conquistadora: the Virgin Mary at war and peace in the Old and New Worlds (Oxford, 2014), 29. 20 For a résumé of thirteenth-century commentators on the consecration ritual, see D.M. Hayes, Body and Sacred Place in Medieval Europe, 1100–1389 (New York/London, 2003).

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a figure of intercession Mary was also redemptive. This meant that any capture of a church dedicated to the Virgin was a particularly heinous violation, as William Durandus explained in the later thirteenth century. In his Rationale he wrote that consecration ‘appropriates the material church to God … it is endowed and becomes the proper spouse of Christ, which it is a sacrilege to violate adulterously’.21 In the specific context of Damietta, too, the presence of Mary in the biblical history of Egypt meant that she had a particularly meaningful association with the region and so offered it, in theory, her special protection. We know little of the conversion of other specific sites in Damietta, with two exceptions. To recognize the special role played by the English in the siege, two mosques were allegedly turned into churches dedicated to Edmund the Martyr and Thomas Becket respectively. The English sources for these churches are keen to stress the links between the martyrdom of Edmund and Becket, and the crusaders’ defence of the faith. A miracle of retribution occurred against a man who insulted St Edmund in the Damietta church, for instance, while the wall paintings in the building (now destroyed) depicted the death of the saint at the hands of the Vikings.22 Eyewitness accounts of the Fifth Crusade thus represented the capture and Christianization of Damietta as an act of territorial entitlement based on biblical association. The conversion of the main mosque into a cathedral was particularly symbolic as it demonstrated not only the present occupation of the city but also the displacement of Islam from Damietta’s spiritual landscape. This new cathedral represented the growing intent of thirteenthcentury crusaders to convert the wider population of Egypt and beyond. At the same time, it seems that the mosque was intended to serve memorial purposes. The building stood as a reminder to the remnant of the Muslim population that their world had now changed; while eyewitnesses such as Jacques de Vitry and Oliver of Paderborn were keen to assert that the city would be forever Christian. The cathedral was also a place where military and spiritual victories were commemorated and it provided a practical 21 Cited in Hayes, Body and Sacred Place, 13. For the critical edition of the Latin text, see Guillelmi Duranti Rationale divinorum officiorum, ed. A. Davril and T. Thibodeau, CCCM, 140, 140A, 140B (Turnhout, 1995–2000). For an overview of the medieval rite of consecration see D.I. Prat, ‘The Consecration of Church Space’, in Medieval Christianity in Practice, ed. M. Rubin (Princeton NJ, 2009), 95–102. 22 Memoriale fratris Walteri de Coventria: the historical collections of Walter of Coventry, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols, RS 58 (London, 1872–73), ii, 242–3; and Matthew Paris, Chronica majora, ed. H.R. Luard, RS 57, 7 vols (London, 1872–83), iii (1876), 164. For Edmund as a crusading hero, see A.J. Frantzen, Bloody Good: chivalry, sacrifice and the Great War (Chicago IL, 2004), 53–4.

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material environment for thanksgiving, ritual observance and ongoing commemoration of the events of 1220. Of course, this was not to last. It was only a year later, in September 1221, that the crusaders were forced to evacuate Egypt entirely, after their failed attempt to move to Cairo.

Damietta Reclaimed In June 1249, almost thirty years after the consecration of the Damietta mosque as a cathedral, another crusading army arrived in Egypt. This was the army of the Seventh Crusade, led by that rex christianissimus, Louis IX of France (1226–70). Like the Fifth Crusade, the Seventh managed to conquer Damietta but then lost the city some months later. Louis IX’s initial victory, however, was understood to be a significant commemoration of the earlier crusade triumphs and one of the first acts to invoke the memory of the Fifth Crusade was the reconsecration of the mosque (which by now had reverted to its original function) as a Christian cathedral. The chamberlain of France, Jean Sarrasin, reported this in a letter composed in June 1249: ‘the day after the Feast of St Barnabas the Apostle, the king led the entry into Damietta, had the main mosque and all the others in the city dismantled and rebuilt as churches dedicated to the glory of Christ’.23 Once again, the most significant site of Islamic worship in the city was given a new purpose and once again the other, smaller mosques dotted throughout Damietta were also Christianized. Sarrasin’s letter hinted at the material violence that accompanied these acts: not only were these buildings overlaid with a new religious identification, but they had been first ‘dismantled’. It is not clear from Sarrasin’s letter itself what this entailed in practical terms, and there is no evidence that the buildings were completely razed to the ground by the crusaders (although according to another eyewitness, the inhabitants of the city set fire to it as they abandoned it).24 Rather, it would seem that the practice of stripping the liturgical furnishings from the mosques as had been done during the Fifth Crusade was repeated. The pulpit, for instance, was removed, as were the bells and these seem to have been distributed beyond Damietta for 23 Sarrasin’s letter is translated in Crusade and Christendom, 354–60; see also J. Beer, ‘The Letter of Jean Sarrasin, Crusader’ in Journeys Toward God: pilgrimage and crusade, ed. B. Sargent-Bauer (Kalamazoo MI, 1992), 135–55. 24 Letter of Jean Beaumont, 25 June 1249, in P. Riant, ‘Six lettres relatives aux croisades’, Archives de l’Orient Latin, 1 (Paris, 1881), 383–92, at 390.

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other uses.25 The stripping of the mosque was certainly galling for the Muslim population of the city. As late as 1282 it was still remembered that the Franks had taken the pulpit from the great mosque at Damietta ‘and cut it up and sent a piece to each of their kings’. Ibn Wasil wrote that once the Muslims retook the city, they refused the Franks permission to take with them some ‘enormous masts for the ships’ until the damaged pulpit was returned. This was not done and Ibn Wasil noted that the Franks were forced to give up their claim to the masts.26 The liturgies of cleansing performed in 1220 were replicated in 1249. One eyewitness recorded that all the crusade faithful returned to the cathedral, ‘having shed in their rejoicing tears of gladness and devotion’, in a barefoot procession led by the legate (Eudes of Châteauroux), whilst chanting the Te Deum Laudamus. ‘Where the Christians long ago had been in the habit of celebrating Mass and ringing their bells, he purified the place and sprinkled it with holy water before having the Mass of the Blessed Virgin celebrated’.27 It was with wonder that Gui of Melun reflected that only three days earlier, this building had been the site for the glorification of ‘the most filthy Mahomet … with abominable sacrifices, cries from on high and the blast of trumpets’. In vivid contrast to the noise and chaos of Muslim worship, according to Gui, came the order of the Christian consecration ritual, accompanied not by shouts but by gentle weeping, with the building cleansed not with blood but with holy water. Gui represents the whole city as washed clean with the arrival of more Christians – ‘in the manner of a lake which is broadened as it is flooded by torrents’.28 But it was Louis IX who laid claim to the city and its surrounds. He was reported to have brought with him ‘ploughs, mattocks, drays, and other farming equipment’ and allegedly told the Sultan that ‘I made a vow and an oath to come here … but I took no vow or oath to leave; nor have I set a date for my departure. That is why I have brought with me the tools of cultivation’.29 Louis certainly knew the symbolic value of consecrating the 25 See Buresi, ‘La conversion d’églises et de mosquées’. 26 Crusade and Christendom, 236. 27 Letter of Gui de Melun (1249), in Matthew Paris, Chronica majora, vi, 160. See also a letter written by Blanche of Castile to Henry III in 1249 in which she reports that the Christian army entered the city barefoot, processing to the mosque ‘qui dudum in alia captione civitatis ejusdem ecclesia erat beatae Mariae Virginis’ (ibid., vi, 166–7). 28 Ibid., vi, 160, ‘exercitus Christianus ad instar stagni, quod ex torrentibus inundantibus suscipit incrementum, cotidie dilatatur’. 29 Ibid., vi, 163, ‘Vovi et juravi hec venire, et terminum prout in me erat praefixi; sed non vovi me nec juravi hinc recedere, nec terminum mei recessus assignavi. Ideo colonorum instrumenta mecum apportavi’.

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Damietta mosque. He issued a foundation charter in November 1249 in which he represented the occupation of the city as a gift from God and the act of consecrating the cathedral as an act of gratitude. Rejoicing that Damietta had been ‘utterly purged of the pagans’ filth’, Louis reclaimed complete possession of the city for Christianity, asserting that Damietta had been received from God’s hand ‘emptied of enemies’. Charters are intensely pragmatic documents and Louis’s foundation charter is no exception. Moving swiftly from the preamble praising God, it is then entirely concerned with the ordering and use of Damietta’s urban landscape.30 The mosque itself was surrounded by various buildings which Louis granted to the archbishop of the cathedral (‘two towers together with the neighbouring dwellings, the structure which was known as the “Mahomerie” and the courtyard that adjoins these towers’). The newly installed canons of the cathedral were granted ‘the compound that extends from the stone stairway ascending to the walls … as far as the street lying between the two houses which the Patriarch holds and the house of St Lazarus, along with all the dwellings and the courtyards included within it’. This occupation of urban space also involved administrative responsibilities and fiscal benefits. The archbishop and chapter, for instance, were granted the right to levy tithes ‘on all leases in the city and diocese of Damietta that would accrue to its lord’. This included tithes on mills, baths, fisheries, ovens, moneychanging and minting, port dues, weights and measures, bird snares, and salt springs – ‘in general all the revenues of the city’. The archbishop was to receive two-thirds of this revenue and the canons and ministers one-third. More gains were contingent on the whole of Egypt being ‘liberated from the infidels’, including the fiefs of ten knights who would serve the archbishop in perpetuity, and the grant of 10,000 besants of annual revenue to the archbishop, canons, and ministers of the cathedral. These were confident promises and Louis expected that once he returned to France, whoever was in charge of Damietta would ensure they were carried out – ‘we desire and command that if the above assignments are not made over by us to the same church in whole or in part before we depart from this side of the sea, whoever governs the country in our stead is bound to make them over in their entirety as detailed above’.31 30 For the Latin text of the charter, see J. Richard, ‘La fondation d’une église latine en Orient par saint Louis: Damiette’, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes, 120 (1962), 39–54. 31 Richard, ‘La fondation d’une église latine’, 54: ‘Volumus etiam et precepimus quod, si premissa a nobis assignata non fuerint eidem ecclesie, in toto vel in parte, priusquam a partibus recesserimus cismarinis, quicumque dominum terre habuerit loco nostri ea integraliter teneatur eidem ecclesie, prout expressa sunt superius, assignare’.

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A new discourse underpinned the conversion of the Damietta mosque in 1249. This was the notion that the crusaders of Louis IX’s army were retaking Christian property that was rightfully theirs. The formality of the charter did not only indicate how the urban landscape was to be possessed and administered but it also indicated how the king understood Christian occupation of the city to be legitimate. This is entirely in keeping with territorial claims increasingly made by crusaders from the mid-twelfth century, when recovering lands gained and then lost on previous crusades became sufficient motivation and justification for new holy wars to be launched. Damietta was no exception. Although the aim of Louis IX’s own crusade was to recover Jerusalem, its policy to destabilize Egypt first was both a military decision and a spiritual one. Remembering the occupation of Damietta during the Fifth Crusade was part of Louis’s crusade motivation and justification. Given Louis IX’s presence at Damietta and his personal intervention in the reorganization of the city space, it is perhaps not surprising that once the eyewitnesses to the battle and capture of the city had narrated the events in letters, later texts tend to dwell on the episode as part of Louis IX’s personal story of piety. This is evident in the various texts composed to support the king’s canonization in the late-thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, which craft the Damietta experience as one (significant) moment in the king’s glorious journey to sainthood. At Damietta, Louis’s victory is represented as deriving from God’s ‘great grace’, according to Jean de Joinville, who says that without this ‘we might not otherwise have been able to take [Damietta] except by starvation. And we can see this quite clearly since it was by starvation that King John took it in our father’s time’.32 But the capture of the city is simply the prelude to a longer account of the battle of Mansurah (1250) when the crusade army was decimated and Louis himself was taken captive. It was this episode of captivity that gave Joinville and others an opportunity to market Louis as a steadfast defender of the faith, resolute in rejecting conversion to Islam, and unmoved by the threat of violence against him.33 Geoffrey of Beaulieu wrote that even the ‘Saracens were struck by the king’s piety, truthfulness, and wisdom’ and Joinville noted that when the king was weakened by illness during 32 Jean de Joinville, Histoire de saint Louis, ed. J. Natalis de Wailly (Paris, 1872), c. 165: ‘Grant grace nous fist Nostre Sires de Damiete que il nous delivera, laquel nous ne deussiens par avoir prise sanz affamer; et ce poon-nous veoir tout cler, pour ce que par affamer la prist li roys Jeans ou tens de nos peres’. 33 See M. Cassidy-Welch, Imprisonment in the Medieval Religious Imagination, c.1150–1400 (London/New York, 2011), 101–23 for a fuller account of Louis IX’s captivity.

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his time as a captive, he nonetheless still ‘placed himself crosswise on the ground every time he left the tent and made the sign of the Cross all over his body’.34 Louis IX’s crusade almost perfectly coincided with a new interest in remembering and commemorating previous crusades and particularly the First Crusade. This may be seen in the production, from 1244, of the earliest illustrated texts of the Old French continuations of William of Tyre’s Historia rerum in partibus transmarinis gestarum. As Jaroslav Folda has argued, these continuations were consciously composed as a response to the final fall of Jerusalem in 1244 (which had prompted Louis IX’s decision to undertake a crusade) and its images were specifically designed to function as ‘memorials’ to the triumphs of the First Crusade.35 Hence, we find images of Peter the Hermit visiting the Holy Sepulchre; the first crusaders attacking Antioch; and images of the city of Jerusalem accompanying William’s text stating that the days of its capture should be held sacred and set apart from all others ‘in order that the memory of the event might be better preserved’.36 Later events such as the capture of Damietta were eventually included in the illustrated continuations of William of Tyre’s text: sometimes these are depictions of the 1249 expedition, and occasionally they show the 1219 crusade.37 But it is Louis IX himself who starts to dominate in texts and images of Damietta as the crusade is increasingly represented as a royal adventure. It seems that the memory of the Fifth Crusade was slowly giving way to another, dynastic story of Capetian prowess and piety that connected with heroic figures of the First Crusade in the more distant past. Corporeal identification of the crusade with the sacred body of the Capetian king shifted the importance of Damietta away from the sacralization of the city itself to the personal piety of the king, and an emphasis on the sacred space of Damietta then faded as a new royal narrative of the past began to unfold. 34 Geoffrey of Beaulieu, Vita Ludovivi Noni in RHGF, xx, 3–27: ‘Ita quod ipsi Sarraceni cum sanctissimum, ac veracissimum necnon sapientissimum reputabant’; Jean de Joinville, Histoire de saint Louis, c. 367, ‘quant il se partoit de la heberge, il prenoit sa croix a terre et seignoit tout son cors’. 35 J. Folda, ‘Commemorating the Fall of Jerusalem: remembering the First Crusade in text, liturgy, and image’, in Remembering the Crusades: myth, image, and identity, ed. N. Paul and S. Yeager (Baltimore MD, 2012), 125–46, at 138, ‘Even though western Christendom was universally lamenting the recent loss of Jerusalem, the dream of retaking the Holy City was still very much alive’. 36 Folda, ‘Commemorating the Fall of Jerusalem’, 137. 37 As in Paris, BnF, MS Français 2628, fol. 328v; Paris, BnF, MS Français 2634, fol. 382; Paris, BnF, MS Français 22495, fol. 268.

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Nowhere is this more apparent than in the famous illustrated chronicles produced in France known as Les Grandes Chroniques. This vernacular prose history had undergone various compilations and addenda since its first chapters were written by the monks of the royal abbey of St Denis in the thirteenth century and was circulated widely in various versions throughout the later Middle Ages and beyond. It is a text which, by the later Middle Ages, had come to trace the trajectory of glory that was French royal history, from the mythical foundations of France by Trojan refugees to the present day. The illustrations in the deluxe manuscripts of the Grandes Chroniques provided their readers, the French kings, with historical models of kingship that were to be reflected upon and emulated. By the fifteenth century, in the context of the Hundred Years’ War, these deluxe manuscripts also bore the evidence of not only ‘royal’ history, but also the stirrings of what has been described as ‘national’ history. Thus the usual pictorial representation of coronations and the death of kings are included, but we also find battle scenes, pious acts of French kings, such as crusading, the king meting out ‘good’ justice and so on. These are activities which integrate the traditional qualities of good kings (justice, strength, piety) with new images of defending territorial boundaries, expelling enemies, and expanding the frontiers of faith and territory.38 Louis IX is a key figure in many of these manuscripts, yet his crusade in Damietta is hardly incorporated, and the Fifth Crusade not at all.39 This is not simply because the 1249 crusade was ultimately unsuccessful. Rather, as Louis’s own personal sanctity was increasingly emphasized, his crusading activity was represented to make his unique and instructive piety a dominant model for present and future monarchs. 40 As something of a postscript to the long history of Damietta in the remembrance of the crusades, it seems that it was only in the early modern period that the landscape of the city and the battle for its capture in 1219 became significant once more in western Europe. This was, however, not in the context of French royal history, but in that of the civic history of Haarlem in the Netherlands where the role played by the Frisians in the construction of the siege tower during the Fifth Crusade was revived and used by the city council from the late sixteenth century onwards to create 38 See A. Hedeman, The Royal Image: illustrations of the Grandes Chroniques de France, 1274–1422 (Berkeley CA, 1991). 39 See for instance, Paris, BnF, MS Français 2813; Paris, BnF, MS Français 24948, fol. 56v; BnF, MS Français 10135, fol. 328v 40 Hedeman, The Royal Image, 677. See also M.C. Gaposchkin, The Making of Saint Louis: kingship, crusades and sanctity in the later Middle Ages (Ithaca, 2008).

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a story about civic concord. 41 In an environment of religious division, on this occasion between Catholics and Protestants, the prowess of the Frisian crusaders was promoted by the city council in both image and identification to remind the citizens that collective action was a quality that Haarlem citizens of that time could learn from the triumphant past of their crusading forebears. Representations of the capture of Damietta during the Fifth Crusade appear here as scenes of battle featuring the siege tower and the breaking of the harbour chain, in which individuals are not identified but the common endeavour of the group is exalted.

Remembering the Fifth Crusade There is no doubt that the capture of Damietta was the military highlight of the Fifth Crusade. Those who experienced the brief but dizzying excitement of the city’s capture sought to communicate their own experience and understanding of the events of 1219–20 as part of a longer narrative of biblical association based on the particular place of Egypt in Christian history. For writers like Jacques de Vitry and Oliver of Paderborn, telling the story of this signif icant spiritual landscape also meant telling the story of the end of Islam. Including the transformation of the Damietta mosque in their narratives was one way of signalling crusader success and imminent widespread conversion. By the time that Louis IX’s crusade arrived in the city nearly thirty years later, the mosque was still a signifier of conquest. But this conquest was now justified by more recent crusading history and Louis’s reconsecration of the mosque reclaimed what he understood to be already Christian space. This reconstituted crusader landscape swiftly eroded as the king’s own pious persona came to occupy later representations of the city and the crusade in both text and in late medieval visual culture. The story of Damietta also suggests that in thirteenth-century crusading discourse, locations were important in delineating the contours of remembrance. But this seems to have been mostly important in the initial stages of remembering, particularly by eyewitnesses to events. As places were not only lost to crusaders but also overshadowed by individuals, it seems that sites like Damietta lost much of their locational resonance over time. Although the history of the thirteenth-century crusades is often told as a tale 41 See W. Frihoff, ‘Damiette appropriée: la mémoire de croisade, instrument de concorde civique (Haarlem, XVIe – XVIIIe siècles)’, Revue du Nord, vol. 88. no. 364 (2006), 7–42.

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of the expansion of crusading to places often far removed from the Levant, it seems that such locations had a sometimes tenuous hold over crusading remembrance. In the case of Damietta, the careful Christianization of its sites eventually came to nothing; in 1250 it was reported that the Mamluks, in order to prevent any future claims to the city, tore it apart. The stones of Damietta, once bathed in holy water and claimed for Christendom, came thus to be thrown into the Nile. About the author: Megan Cassidy-Welch, University of Queensland, Australia

10. Pro Deo et Amore Marchionis: Honorius III, William VI of Montferrat, and the Fifth Crusade in Greece Ben Halliburton

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch10 Abstract The Fifth Crusade is well-known for the absence of Frederick II on it, despite its many other participants, but the Holy Roman Emperor was not the only Christian knight who had taken the Cross and then made alternate arrangements. Marquis William VI of Montferrat worked closely with Pope Honorius III and the future Pope Gregory IX to organize the Fifth Crusade in Italy, but eventually led an army of his own against Theodore Doukas in Greece instead. This article analyses the development and diversion of William’s crusade as a function of his relationships with Frederick and the papacy, demonstrating the climate of innovation and cooperation present in early thirteenth-century crusading. Keywords: Crusades, Holy Roman Emperor, papacy, Italy, Byzantium, Mediterranean

Near the end of the year 1225, John Apokaukos, the Greek Orthodox bishop of Naupaktos, referred in a letter to ‘the arrogant marquis whose ships filled the sea and whose horses the plains of Halmyros’.1 The marquis about whom he wrote, William VI of Montferrat, had died there suddenly on 17 September 1225. To hear the early modern chronicler Benvenuto Sangiorgio tell the tale, the cause of death was poison, but thirteenth-century contemporaries all 1 For this translation: D. Nicol, The Despotate of Epiros (1204–1261) (Oxford, 1957), 74 n. 43; for the original Greek: V.G. Vasilievsky, ‘Epirotica saeculi XIII’, Vizantiski Vremennik, 3 (1896), 241–99, at 296.

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attributed it to natural causes instead.2 With William ended an extraordinary episode in the history of the crusades in general and the Fifth Crusade in particular. Even before the 1983 publication of the 1224 carta di mutuo by Patrizia Cancian, William of Montferrat’s crusade to rescue his half-brother’s kingdom with papal and imperial support had attracted much interest from Italian historians including Mario Gallina and Aldo Settia. In recent years, those who study the crusades and the Latin East have also begun to share in some of that interest. Filip Van Tricht has discussed William’s crusade in the context of the political history of the Latin Empire, and Nikolaos Chrissis gave it an entire chapter in his book on the crusades as part of Latin–Byzantine relations after the Fourth Crusade. Chrissis is right to emphasize the uniqueness and significance of William’s 1225 crusade in the history of the institution, considering that it was the first to grant indulgences on par with those granted for the Holy Land and the first to preach the schismatic Greeks as enemies of Christendom. Likewise, others have been correct to emphasize the dynastic trappings of the crusade itself. However, those are but two of the approaches to be taken with the crusade, which remains largely disregarded in the general history of the institution. Accordingly, this article examines William’s crusade not as personal aggrandisement, but as part of a life spent in service to both pope and emperor. Although he was trying to preserve lands that were viewed as the property of his family, he did so explicitly in defence of the Church and implicitly in imitation of his liege, Emperor Frederick II. Consequently, William’s crusade ought not to be considered in opposition to or even in isolation from the traditional crusading establishment. Rather, as part of that very establishment that had come to encompass all of Europe by the first decades of the thirteenth century, it helps to demonstrate how dynastic, feudal, and religious motives intersected in crusading. Disparate though they were, these intersections reflect the fluidity of identities and relationships on the geographic, demographic, and institutional frontiers of medieval society. Although there are obvious reasons to begin with 1204, any account of the Montferrat crusade against Greece must go back at least to 1211. That year was when, among other things, a group of German princes met at Nuremburg to elect as their new liege Frederick II, last in a line of Staufer kings and 2 For the allegation of poison: Benvenuto Sangiorgio, Chronicon de Montisferrato, ed. G. Avogadro, HPM SS, iii (Turin, 1848), 1322; for death by natural causes: Richard of San Germano, Chronica, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS, xix, 321–84, at 345; Necrologium ecclesiae beati Evasii Casalensis, ed. G. Avogadro, HPM SS, iii, 453–510, at 496.

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emperors.3 Marquis William VI of Montferrat had ruled under that very line for almost a decade as vassal and as kinsman, as had his forefathers before him. His family’s meteoric rise after the Second Crusade had been made possible by the service of William the Old to the German emperor Frederick Barbarossa against the Lombard League, a relationship that was maintained by their respective heirs Boniface and Henry VI, particularly during the conquest of Sicily. William sought the same relationship with Henry’s brother Philip of Swabia at first, but once the assassination of the latter heralded the triumph of his rival Otto of Brunswick in the succession dispute that had broken out after the death of Henry, William had few qualms about switching to the winning side. However, despite participating in a campaign against the city of Cuneo and attending the Diet of Lodi, the presumed reward for William’s change of heart was not forthcoming. 4 Disaffection with Otto followed soon after, as it had already come for several others, including Pope Innocent III, who had crowned him emperor some years before. Frederick, derisively called ‘the boy from Sicily’ by his opponents,5 soon came to represent a fresh start for them all. When Frederick landed in Genoa on 1 May 1212, William was close at hand to guide him, along with the papal legate and several other Italian lords, initiating a relationship between the two men that eventually grew to resemble the one between their respective grandfathers sixty years prior. The party set out two and a half months later, with troops from Milan and Piacenza in close pursuit, and eventually succeeded in crossing the Alps into Germany.6 The sources then fall silent for a time, but when they do show William with Frederick again, it is at the Fourth Lateran Council three years later. There, William made a fiery denunciation of Otto to the assembled princes and prelates – yet another indignity for the disgraced emperor – but more importantly for the purposes of this article, Innocent proclaimed the Fifth Crusade, an event that would dominate the next ten years for William, the 3 For the election itself: Burchard of Ursperg, Chronicon, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS, xxiii, 333–83, at 373; for the international conspiracy between the German dukes, the king of France, and the pope that instigated it: T.C. Van Cleve, The Emperor Frederick II of Hohenstaufen, Immutator Mundi (Oxford, 1972), 73–5. 4 For the siege of Cuneo in 1210: Regesta imperii, ii/4, 1801 no. 12368; L. Bertrano, Storia di Cuneo: medio evo, 1198–1382 (Cuneo, 1898), 102; for the diet at Lodi in 1212: Regesta imperii i, 134 nos. 460–2 and iv/6, 8–9; Giovanni Codagnello, Annales Placentini, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SRG, xxiii, 39. 5 Annales Placentini, 41, ‘puer Sicilie’. 6 Annales Placentini, 39–41; Ottobon the Clerk, ‘Annales Ianuenses’, in Annali genovesi di Caffaro e de’ suoi continuatori, ed. L.T. Belgrano and C. Imperiale di Sant’Angelo, 5 vols (Rome, 1890–1929), ii, 46–7.

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last years of his life.7 Although not his last years, the crusade would also dominate the next fifteen years for Frederick, who had already surprised everyone by taking the Cross after being crowned at Aachen in the summer of 1215.8 The beginning of William’s involvement is somewhat harder to pin down. A poem by the troubadour Elias Cairel had rebuked William harshly for being unwilling to go on crusade in early 1209,9 but there is no other proof of intent, one way or another, until a letter from the summer of 1220, which lists an amount of money to be given to William by the papal Curia ‘when he has crossed beyond the sea’.10 In all probability, he had already taken his vow by that point, but was it in 1215, when general enthusiasm over the announcement had prompted Frederick’s own vow, or in 1217, when William was crowned co-king of Thessalonica by the pope? The precedent of William’s grandfather and subsequent actions by William himself recommend an earlier date, in concert with the emperor.11 In truth, despite the obvious implications of the crusading vows made by William and Frederick, the events taking place in the East remain oddly peripheral to the narrative of this article, at least up to the end of the Fifth Crusade. To be sure, the crusades had always been an integral part of Montferrat dynastic policy since the middle of the twelfth century, when William the Old accompanied his Burgundian kinsmen in the French contingent of the Second Crusade, but rarely were they a wholly positive force. Over the next sixty years, four of William the Old’s five sons gained crowns in the East by martial or marital means, and all four died as a result of holding those crowns. As has often been remarked in the historiography of the marquises of Montferrat, the Crusader States were a poisoned chalice for them – as they were for all but a few lucky families – and none more so than the Latin Empire, carved out of 7 For William’s speech, presented by the chronicler as the crux of the case against the emperor, see Richard of San Germano, Chronica, 338. 8 Renier of St Laurent, Annales, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS, xvi, 651–80, at 673; Chronica regia Coloniensis (Annales maximi Coloniensis), ed. G.W. Pertz, MGH SRG, xviii, 236. At this time, William was almost certainly still in Italy, barring a sudden and arduous journey north: S. Caccianottio, Summarium monumentorum omnium quae in tabulario municipii Vercellensis continentur ab anno DCCCLXXXII ad annum MCCCCXLI (Vercelli, 1868), 85–91. 9 E. Cairel, ‘Pois chai la fuoilla del garric’, in Il trovatore Elias Cairel, ed. G. Lachin (Modena, 2004), 177. 10 Epistolae selectae, i, 91, ‘cum transierit ultra mare’. All translations are the author’s own, unless otherwise noted. 11 For the question of William the Old’s second vow, which was probably intended to be taken in concert with Frederick Barbarossa in 1185, had not the emperor been delayed in his own vow: A. Settia, ‘“Postquam, ipse marchio levavit crucem”: Guglielmo V di Monferrato e il suo ritorno in Palestina (1186)’, Bollettino storico-bibliografico Subalpino, 98 (2000), 451–72.

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Byzantine territory in the wake of the Fourth Crusade. Its largest vassal state, the Kingdom of Thessalonica, had already weathered a revolt upon the death of its creator and king, Boniface, William’s father, and the minority of Boniface’s son Demetrius, William’s half-brother by the imperial widow Margaret of Hungary. Since then, the kingdom had been slowly losing a hard-fought battle against Epirus, one of the several Byzantine splinter-states that had sprung up after 1204, which brought both kingdoms to the attention of Pope Honorius III, who had succeeded Innocent in 1216. Immediately after his election and consecration, Honorius took the young Demetrius and his kingdom under papal protection, but this gesture, like the threats of excommunications that were meant to back it up, did not deter further Epirote aggression.12 Eventually, prompted by Peter of Courtenay, the new Latin emperor, and possibly by William’s recent vow to go on crusade, Honorius made the aforementioned decision in April 1217 to crown William as co-king with his half-brother,13 who was now close to his majority but still unable to rally his vassals against the enemy. For whatever reason, William made no move to dispossess Demetrius, even after the capture and execution of Peter by the forces of Epirus, so the situation remained roughly the same, which is to say worsening steadily, until the key city of Serres fell half a decade later, an event that threatened the kingdom of Thessalonica with total annihilation.14 Meanwhile, in the west, Frederick II was experiencing difficulties of his own, though none of them quite so dire yet. Contingents of the Fifth Crusade had landed in Egypt in May 1218 and were making progress up the Nile towards Cairo,15 but Frederick had been able to secure from the pope neither his son’s coronation as king nor his own as emperor, which he had stated as prerequisites for his departure.16 When Honorius started pressuring him to fulfil his vow anyway, Frederick opted to request delay after delay instead.17 During this time, when tempers might have been rising and sides might have been chosen, William continued to position himself where he could be of aid to both pope and emperor. Shortly after participating in Frederick’s Italian 12 For papal protection of the kingdom of Thessalonica: Hon. III opera, ii, 24–5, 362; Reg. Hon. III, ii, 89; for Epirus’s first brush with excommunication: ibid., i, 119–20, 146, 173–5; Nicol, Despotate, 52–4. 13 Hon. III opera, ii, 364–5. 14 For the demise of Peter of Courtenay: Richard of San Germano, Chronica, 338–9; Nicol, Despotate, 50–2. 15 Powell, Anatomy, 137–53. 16 Hist. Friderici, i, 628–9; Van Cleve, Frederick II, 112–16. 17 For the first three deferrals, all granted grudgingly by the pope: Hist. Friderici, i, 630–33, 691–3, 746–7.

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expedition in late 1220 to be crowned in Rome at last,18 William asked to serve as imperial vicar in Burgundy, expressly to help the Church ‘strengthen that kingdom from faithlessness to devotion’ by rooting out the Albigensian heresy reputed to be thriving there.19 Regrettably, as the latest but not the last in a long succession of rectors, vicars, and vassal-kings charged by the Hohenstaufen with forcing the region into submission, William did not excel at his task, in fact failing even to gain entrance into Burgundy.20 However, after writing to Honorius for aid, he became acquainted with Cardinal Ugolino di Conti, the future Pope Gregory IX, who had been making peace in Lombardy and Tuscany as papal legate since 1217.21 Since Ugolino promptly drafted a list of the money and manpower raised ‘for God and love of the marquis’ around the time of this meeting in April 1221, William’s intent to depart on crusade must have come up between them, but intent alone does not seem to have been enough.22 After an interval of two months, the difficulties that William was facing with his own preparations, mostly financial in nature, gained the attention of Honorius in Rome, who entrusted the deferral of William’s vow to Ugolino over the course of several letters.23 As might be expected, the vassal enjoyed much the same treatment as his liege.24 When the imperial army under Louis of Bavaria left for Egypt in May 1221, William remained behind, just like Frederick, with the blessing of the pope.25 Despite this delay, or perhaps even because of it, there quickly emerged a close relationship between cardinal and marquis. In July 1221, William 18 For the Italian expedition of Frederick: Van Cleve, Frederick II, 123–38; for William’s presence as witness: Monumenta Aquensia, ed. G.B. Moriondo, 2 vols, (Turin, 1789–90), ii, 559, 651, 780. 19 In the letter, Honorius reports to the prelates of the kingdom that Frederick had turned them over to William, who ‘regnum ipsum infidelitate imperii et Ecclesiae devotione desideret solidare’: Hon. III opera, iii, 595–6. 20 For a report of William’s setbacks: Registri dei Cardinali Ugolino d’Ostia e Ottaviano degli Ubaldini, ed. G. Levi (Rome, 1890), 12–13; for a dated but detailed history of imperial efforts to exert control over Burgundy: P. Fornier, Le royaume d’Arles et de Vienne (1138–1378): étude sur la formation territoriale de la France dans l’Est et le Sud-Est (Paris, 1891), 19–116. 21 For William’s request for assistance in Burgundy, which is tragically bland and empty of detail: Registri dei Cardinali, 10–11; for Hugolino’s legation in Italy: Potthast, i, 478, 483. 22 ‘qui pro Deo et amore marchionis crucem receperunt’, with contributions roughly totalling six hundred knights and 13,000 marks: Registri dei Cardinali, 128–33. 23 Ibid., 133–5. 24 Despite the pessimistic tone of his letters to Ugolino, Honorius continued to write to others, including the papal legate Cardinal Pelagius in Egypt, as if William’s arrival in the East were certain: Epistolae selectae, i, 122–3; only in early August 1221 does he confirm that Ugolino had granted William’s request for a deferral: Registri dei Cardinali, 140–1. 25 For the army under Louis of Bavaria: Oliver of Paderborn, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 256-7; Powell, Anatomy, 184–91.

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began to help Ugolino with negotiations to end the strife plaguing Frederick’s vassals in Italy, a group with which William had ample experience, as it was a group that included his own person.26 During the summer and autumn of that year, William personally secured the participation of Novara and Porto Torres in the crusade.27 On behalf of the papal Curia, he also made promises of money to various lords who were preparing to go on crusade, including William of Belfort, Guy of Briançon, and William of Auvergne.28 Even though his own departure had already been delayed to ‘another crusade’ sometime in the future, these activities by William reveal a commitment to the institution as a whole.29 Presumably, the hope was to remove obstacles from the emperor’s path as a means of also removing them from his own. Such a hope must have been shaken by the surrender of the Fifth Crusade on 8 September 1221.30 Although William had worked with Honorius and his legates to create a set of circumstances that would allow him and Frederick to fulfil their crusade vows, events had outpaced them all. However, the situation in the East, as described earlier, now offered pope, marquis, and emperor another way forward. When the fall of Serres to Epirote forces in early 1222 removed the final impediment to an encirclement and siege of the eponymous capital of the Kingdom of Thessalonica, its beleaguered king fled to the papal court.31 Frederick had arranged just recently to meet with Honorius at Verona in November 1222 to decide the future of his crusade, but when they finally did meet at Ferentino in March 1223, both William and Demetrius were also present to make their case.32 Whatever consensus was reached at that meeting has not been preserved in 26 The first instance is a letter from Ugolino to Niccolò Maltraversi, bishop of Reggio-Emilia and future legate of William’s crusade, regarding William’s dealings with Milan: Registri dei Cardinali, 118. 27 For Novara, in modern Piedmont: Registri dei Cardinali, 24; for Porto Torres, in northern Sardinia: ibid., 121–3. 28 For Belfort and Briançon: Reg. Hon. III, ii, 23; for Auvergne: Hon. III opera, iv, 67–8. 29 The phrases are ‘aliud passagium’ and ‘passagium proximum’, which are both quite vague but probably referred to the anticipated crusade of Frederick: Registri dei Cardinali, 133–4. 30 Oliver of Paderborn, Historia Damiatina, ed. Hoogeweg, 275-7; Powell, Anatomy, 175–91. 31 For the fall of Serres, the exact date of which is not known but must have been prior to an admonitory letter from Honorius in September 1222: Hon. III opera, iv, 229–30; for Demetrius’s first appearance in Italy: Reg. Hon. III, ii, 52; Leopoldo Usseglio, I Marchesi di Monferrato in Italia ed in Oriente durante i secoli XII e XIII, 2 vols (Turin, 1926), ii, 274–6. 32 For the planned meeting at Verona: Hist. Friderici, ii, 240–2; for the planned attendance of William: Monumenta Aquensia, ii, 651; for the actual meeting at Ferentino: Van Cleve, Frederick II, 159–60. This is known mostly through allusions in subsequent letters, but a charter for the church at Nordhausen gives the probable time and place, as well as naming William and Demetrius among the witnesses: Hist. Friderici, ii, 328–9.

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writing, but its outlines are clear from what ensued. By all appearances, it was a careful division of resources meant to satisfy the needs of all involved. Frederick set a final deadline in June 1225 for going on crusade and, in the interim, the forces and funds that had been raised in Italy for the now-defunct Fifth Crusade were allocated to a new one, this time to bring the Greeks to heel.33 The path was now clear for William to save his half-brother’s kingdom from destruction through fulfilment of his crusading vow, which may or may not have been his intention in the first place. Indeed, both marquis and emperor were able to look after their respective interests, while the pope made sure that two powerful princes who had been dragging their feet participated at last in expeditions that could potentially expunge the memory of Damietta. As James Powell put it, Honorius, as much as Frederick, acknowledged that ‘the best way to escape the blame attached to the failure of the Fifth Crusade was to commit themselves anew to the cause’.34 This time, the pope had done one better, making two crusades out of none. Though Honorius has often been judged to be ‘wanting in both the youthfulness and the astounding physical vigour of his predecessor’,35 the energy that he displayed in the wake of Ferentino is remarkable. From the very outset, it made William’s crusade against Greece radically different, in several respects, from those previously directed against heathens and heretics. For instance, when he proclaimed the crusade against Theodore Comnenus Ducas, the ruler of Epirus, Honorius used the opportunity to reiterate and reinforce the excommunication that was already outstanding against him, making this the first formal crusade to be declared and preached against Christians in order to depose an excommunicate ruling over them.36 As a testament to its novelty, Chrissis points out the rapid demonization of the crusaders’ reputed enemies – that is, the Greeks – in Honorius’s writings, moving from them ‘honouring him [Giovanni Colonna, cardinal and papal legate] devotedly and pleasingly’ in the September 1222 plea for Theodore to repent to ‘enemies of 33 For Frederick’s deadline: Richard of San Germano, Chronica, 342–3. 34 Powell, Anatomy, 196. 35 Van Cleve, Frederick II, 109. 36 For the excommunication, which dates to sometime before December 1220 and probably coincides with the beginning of the Epirote campaign against the Kingdom of Thessalonica: Reg. Hon. III, i, 473; for the reissue of the excommunication in April 1223: Hon. III opera, iv, 324–5. Scholarly discourse on the so-called crusade against Markward of Annweiler has been overwhelmingly restricted to the granting of indulgences against an excommunicate, but has proceeded to take that part for the whole: J. Strayer, ‘The Political Crusades of the Thirteenth Century’, in A History of the Crusades, II: the later crusades, 1189–1311, ed. K. Setton et al. (Madison, 1969), 343–77, at 346–50; E. Kennan, ‘Innocent III and the First Political Crusade: a comment on the limitations of papal power’, Traditio, 27 (1971), 231–49.

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God’ shortly after the May 1223 proclamation of the crusade against the latter.37 In a subsequent letter to the prince of Achaea, Honorius goes so far as to state explicitly that the objective of the crusade was for the Greeks to be crushed ‘in such a way that they will dare not raise a heel against the Latins or the Roman Church’.38 Furthermore, this crusade was the first of its kind to grant ‘the same indulgence for those coming to the Holy Land’ in general to those going elsewhere.39 Until then, indulgences had been granted individually to those fighting political enemies of the papacy and generally to those fighting Cathar heretics in southern France, but never before en masse to those fighting people who had hitherto been regarded as Christians fundamentally in good standing with the Church. The aforementioned shift in rhetoric probably went hand in hand with this particular innovation, if only to expedite William’s crusade, which made it more than a little ironic when both were later reworked by the papacy to deploy against Frederick, William’s own liege.40 Lastly, there were the means by which William’s crusade was financed, which were not quite as unprecedented in the history of the institution yet nonetheless notable. In the summer of 1220, a year before the disaster at Damietta, Honorius had allotted 15,000 marks – that is, fifty pounds of gold by weight – to William from the twentieth of clerical incomes levied for the Fifth Crusade, presumably in response to the f inancial diff iculties that had prevented the marquis from leaving for Egypt. 41 Later letters conf irm that this money had been disbursed by Ugolino with some difficulty and was still in William’s possession, although that possession was now contingent on him actually departing on crusade. 42 37 Hon. III opera, iv, 229: ‘ipsum devote tractasti, et in liberatione honorasti decenter, personam tuam’; Annales ecclesiastici ab anno 1198 usque ad annum 1565, ed. O. Raynaldi, 15 vols (Bar-le-Duc, 1870–9), i, 456: ‘ab inimicis Dei’. For the general escalation of crusading rhetoric along with crusading vows: N. Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece: a study of Byzantine–Western relations and attitudes, 1204–1282 (Turnhout, 2012), 74–5. 38 Reg. Hon. III, ii, 207: ‘humiliabuntur scismatici Romanie, quod de cetero contra Romanam Ecclesiam vel Latinos erigere calcaneum non presument’. 39 Reg. Hon. III, ii, 83: ‘in subsidium imperii venerint eamdem concedit indulgentiam, quae statute fuit in subsidium Terrae Sanctae transfretantibus’. 40 For a summary of the papal rhetoric ultimately used against Frederick: Van Cleve, Frederick II, 427–41, 487–97. 41 For the first mention of that sum, which was further supplemented over the next few years by various other amounts in assorted currencies paid out for expenses incurred in papal service, roughly totalling another 3,000 marks: Epistolae selectae, i, 91. 42 For the issues surrounding the money, chief among which seems to have been the stubbornness of Bolognese merchants: Registri dei Cardinali, 121–3, 133–5, 152–3; Reg. Hon. III, ii, 74; for evidence that William received the whole amount, at the latest by 7 Feb. 1224: ibid., ii, 206; for William’s oath to use the funds only to travel to the Holy Land: Registri dei Cardinali, 101.

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To this already substantial sum was later added 9,000 silver marks when William met with Frederick in Sicily to make a comprehensive list of his lands for mortgage to the emperor – this is the carta di mutuo that was referred to at the beginning of this article, the most complete look at the medieval marquisate of Montferrat. 43 Predictably, William was still in need of more money as the date of his departure drew near, despite what he had already received. 44 In the end, Honorius obliged him further with a bull to the clergy and military orders of the Latin Empire, levying the incredible sum of half their incomes for the crusade, although collecting that amount turned out to be more or less unworkable and was soon revised down to a quarter. 45 Regardless of the practical considerations, the scale of resources poured into William’s crusade by both pope and emperor was nothing short of exceptional, particularly considering the tensions that were mounting between these two potentates. Unfortunately, William did not quite measure up to the faith placed in him. Honorius’s bull had gone out less than two months after the meeting at Ferentino, instructing the prelates of Burgundy, Lombardy, and Tuscany to preach the Cross, but shortly after an advance party under Oberto of Biandrate, veteran of the Fourth Crusade, had departed in the summer of 1224, William fell ill with an unspecified disease which, as Leopoldo Usseglio speculated, was probably dysentery.46 Honorius, plainly crestfallen, was forced to explain and then excuse William’s failure to depart when he wrote to the clergy of the Latin Empire that winter, but in the meantime, he busied himself with equipping 43 For the text and an analysis of the charter see P. Cancian, ‘La carta di mutuo di Guglielmo VI di Monferrato a favore di Federico II: Un contributo paleografico alla toponomastica piemontese’, Bollettino storico bibliografico subalpino, 81 (1983), 729–50. F. Van Tricht suggests that Frederick’s money was meant to assert an implicit hegemony over the Latin Empire once it had been restored: The Latin ‘Renovatio’ of Byzantium: the empire of Constantinople (1204–1228) (Leiden, 2011), 385 n. 127. 44 Small amounts of money from various ecclesiastical sources continued to make their way into the war chest of the crusade until William’s departure in 1225: Hon. III opera, iv, 549–51; Reg. Hon. III, ii, 217. 45 For the proposed half of clerical revenues from the Latin Empire: A. Tâutu, Acta Honorii III (1216–1227) et Gregorii IX (1227–1241) (Rome, 1950), 172–5; for the revision down to a quarter, made without comment: Reg. Hon. III, ii, 298–300; for the only evidence of money being disbursed, namely 25 hyperpera from the bishop and archdeacon of Negroponte: W. Haberstumpf, Regesti dei Marchesi di Monferrato (secoli XI–XVI) (Genoa, 2009), 82. 46 For Honorius’s bull, which gave the full indulgence to crusaders with existing vows: Hon. III opera, iv, 349–50; for ensuing letters, which extended that indulgence to crusaders with new vows: Hon. III opera, iv, 350–1; for Oberto’s army, which Chrissis notes as the official beginning of the crusade in terms of indulgences: Reg. Hon. III, ii, 83; Chrissis, Crusading in Frankish Greece, 69 n. 45; for a brief assessment of William’s illness and the subsequent delays: Usseglio, Marchesi di Monferrato, ii, 276–7.

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the crusade with a fuller apparatus of support.47 He had already taken William and the other holdovers from the Fifth Crusade under papal protection in January, his first recorded act for the new crusade after its proclamation.48 He then reiterated his instructions for crusade preaching in the aforementioned regions and wrote to Blanche of Castile soliciting the involvement of the French crown, the latter albeit without success.49 In October, he assigned Niccolò Maltraversi, bishop of Reggio Emilia and close associate of Cardinal Ugolino, as papal legate to William and his army, with excommunication and confession specifically highlighted among his plenipotentiary powers.50 The copy of this letter sent to William even suggested that the marquis avail himself of this opportunity to perform ‘a healthful penance’, presumably in order to treat his physical infirmities with spiritual remedies.51 When William’s condition did begin to improve towards the end of 1224 – with or without the legate’s help – the pope announced the imminent departure of his crusade in the spring of 1225, now to recapture rather than rescue Thessalonica, which had just lately fallen to Epirote forces.52 The levy of clerical incomes from the Latin Empire, discussed above, may have covered for the delay as they gradually trickled in, but transport to and supply in Greece still had to be arranged. To that end, William contacted Alamanno da Costa, Genoese pirate and former count of Syracuse. A thousand silver marks, or the equivalent in knightly fiefs, were exchanged for his ships and men.53 For his part, Honorius wrote repeatedly to the doge of Venice, the prince of Achaea, the duke of Athens, the lords of Negroponte, and the emperor of Constantinople, asking them all to be ready to help the army that was sure to be coming soon.54 The letters continue through the first few months of 1225, but sometime after that, William and Demetrius sailed out from Brindisi and off the map.55 The next news of William is that he had died, 47 For Honorius’s apology for William’s illness: Tâutu, Acta Honorii III, 172–3. 48 Reg. Hon. III, ii, 197. 49 For the renewed preaching: Reg. Hon. III, ii, 205–6; for the fruitless letter to Blanche of Castile: ibid., 250–1. 50 Tâutu, Acta Honorii III, 169–71. 51 ‘Possit etiam per se ac per poenitentiarium sum vestras confessiones audire et iniungere vobis poenitentiam salutarem’: Tâutu, Acta Honorii III, 171. 52 For the fall of Thessalonica, probably in December 1224: K. Setton, The Papacy and the Levant (1204–1571), 5 vols (Philadelphia PA, 1976–84), i, 51; for the new timetable prompted for William’s crusade: Reg. Hon. III, ii, 304–5. 53 Ibid., 207. 54 Ibid., 286, 298–300, 304. 55 One letter from Feb. 1225 (ibid., 304), suggests that William had not yet departed; another from May 1225 (ibid., 333), suggests that he had.

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probably from the same illness that had delayed him in the first place. His army disintegrated on the fields of southern Thessaly, his half-brother fled to Frederick, and Epirus’s drive on Constantinople continued unchecked.56 Thus the 1225 crusade against Greece came to an end. What is to be made of this joint endeavour by marquis, pope, and emperor? Was it just a failure, one of the many curious but ultimately forgettable episodes in the history of the crusades? Many scholars have surmised as much. Malcolm Barber and Jean Richard pass over it entirely in their surveys.57 Peter Lock and Donald Nicol mention that a crusade was called, but not whether it met with any response.58 Kenneth Setton explicitly states that there was no response, owing in part to what he views to be William’s blatant grab for a crown, but still notes the assembly and departure of an army from Brindisi under the two brothers.59 Are they correct to be so dismissive? Certainly, the military contributions of the crusade to the defence of the Latin Empire in particular and to Christendom in general appear to have been negligible. There is an argument to be made that William’s brief appearance in Thessaly was a factor in Theodore Ducas’s decision to consolidate his hold on eastern rather than southern Greece, since even an abortive crusade belied the sort of weakness that typically drew the attentions of Epirus, but such an assessment of grand strategy is invariably speculative in character, especially when documented so poorly.60 The fact remains that, without any quantitative sources surviving on the recruitment for or participation in the crusade, the result must instead be taken on its own, and that result was the unchecked decline of Latin fortunes in Greece.61 56 For Demetrius’s return to the imperial court: Benvenuto Sangiorgio, 1322–1323; Hist. Friderici, iii, 205–6; Philip of Novara, Mémoires, 1218–1243, ed. C. Kohler (Paris, 1913), 15; for his death in 1230, contradicting Benvenuto Sangiorgio’s oft-cited date of 1227: Richard San Germano, Chronica, 362; for the remaining years of Theodore Ducas’s rule over Epirus: Nicol, Despotate, 64–71, 103–11. 57 M. Barber, ‘Western Attitudes to Frankish Greece in the Thirteenth Century’, Latins and Greeks in the Eastern Mediterranean after 1204, ed. B. Arbel et al. (London, 1989), 111–28, at 113–14; J. Richard, The Crusades, c.1071–c.1291 (Cambridge, 1999), 255. 58 P. Lock, The Franks in the Aegean, 1204–1500 (London, 1995), 61–2; Nicol, Despotate, 61–4. 59 In general, the implication repeatedly made by Setton, Papacy and the Levant, 27, 50–3, that William had always desired his half-brother’s kingdom, but was just astonishingly slow in making a move for it, is perplexing for its lack of support. 60 The closest thing to actual proof, as noted by Van Tricht (Latin ‘Renovatio’, 385 n. 128), is that Epirote forces ceased their incursions south into Boeotia and Attica for almost two decades following William’s crusade, with Halmyros itself falling only around 1246. 61 For instance, the best evidence that exists for participation is a remark by Richard of San Germano (Chronica, 344) that knights were gathering in Brindisi throughout 1224 for William’s crusade, but he is maddeningly vague about their number and provenance.

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However, if military successes were the only reason to study the crusades, it would be a far less active and less fruitful subject than it currently is. Fortunately, the conception, organization, and execution of the crusade also enable the relationships between various persons and institutions involved in it to be unpacked. For instance, from the available evidence, William can be seen to have approached crusading primarily as an act of fealty, to emperor as much as to pope. He made his preparations and possibly his vow at the same time as Frederick, he was active in the recruitment of fellow vassals of Frederick, and he did his utmost to coordinate his departure with Frederick, although the latter’s penultimate delay on 25 July 1225 definitely frustrated that part of William’s plan.62 Moreover, William’s crusade also appears to have informed later interactions between pope and emperor in several ways. The alacrity with which the crusade was brought into being – that is, proclaimed, assembled, and launched in just over two years – may have given Ugolino cause to be impatient when dealing Frederick as Pope Gregory IX. Historians have remarked upon Gregory’s break with the policies of his predecessor Honorius towards the German emperor, in which he had formerly been content to play a sizable and positive role, but perhaps the successes and failures he experienced with William as legate had altered his opinion of what was truly feasible.63 Likewise, the difficulties faced by William while trying to depart in good faith and in a timely fashion offer another perspective on Frederick and his troubled relationship with crusading, in addition to showing how the German emperor interacted with a powerful vassal of his own, possibly in order to use the marquis as leverage against the Latin emperor Robert of Courtenay. William and Frederick really had a great deal in common as crusaders, down to the fateful consequences of being prevented by illness from setting sail when planned.64 In a way, William represents an outer bound of possibility for Frederick as a Christian prince on crusade. Most of all, William’s crusade is yet another means by which to understand better the figure of Honorius, who has already begun to enjoy a more 62 Richard of San Germano, Chronica, 344–5. 63 For an example of Ugolino’s change in attitude towards Frederick after he became pope: B. Weiler, ‘Gregory IX, Frederick II and the Liberation of the Holy Land’, in The Holy Land: Holy lands and Christian history, ed. R.N. Swanson, SCH, 36 (2000), 192–206; for the confrontation between Gregory and Frederick over the latter’s long-delayed crusade: Powell, Anatomy, 198–9; Van Cleve, Frederick II, 194–201. 64 Good relations between Frederick II and Theodore Ducas are first attested in 1229, after Robert’s death, but tensions between the Catholic emperors of the East and West were probably already present, perhaps even before William’s crusade: Van Tricht, Latin ‘Renovatio’, 385 n. 127.

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favourable treatment in the historiography. Recent works by Thomas W. Smith and Pierre-Vincent Claverie have emphasized Honorius’ pragmatism, especially in his dealings with Frederick, and both James Powell and David Abulafia have characterized his pontificate as ‘a golden age of papal-imperial co-operation’.65 Such conclusions are supported entirely by the evidence of this article. In his constant push for expediency, Honorius inadvertently made William’s crusade into a test case for several policies that came to define the thirteenth-century crusading movement, yet he did it in support of the loyal vassal of an emperor with whom he did not enjoy particularly good relations. Whatever else is attributed to the much more charismatic Innocent, it is undeniable that it was not him, but Honorius, who presided over this brief but noteworthy period of conciliation, cooperation, and innovation. Through the crusade against Greece, the two universalizing powers of medieval Latin Christendom worked together to assert themselves as never before, and mere months before they were to begin a decades-long fight to the death. It was something only conceivable in the unique institutional climate surrounding the Fifth Crusade, the last of its kind. Of course, simply because it took place under a unique set of circumstances does not mean that William’s crusade itself was wholly unique. Many smaller-scale expeditions similar to it add up to form the ‘long tail’ of almost every major crusade, each of them with their own potential contributions to the historiography. Just as William’s crusade offers up something of a missing link to the later crusades of the thirteenth century, which were increasingly personal and political in character, there are others, often outside the scope even of exhaustive works such as James Powell’s Anatomy of a Crusade, that should be contextualized and analysed as part of the broader institution of crusading, in order that the continuity of development in that institution and its impact on medieval society as a whole be better understood. About the author: Ben Halliburton, Saint Louis University, MO

65 D. Abulafia, Frederick II: a medieval emperor (London, 1992), 162; for a similar assessment: Powell, Anatomy, 200–1; T.W. Smith, ‘Between Two Kings: Pope Honorius III and the seizure of the Kingdom of Jerusalem by Frederick II in 1225’, Journal of Medieval History, 41 (2014), 41–59; P.-V. Claverie, Honorius III et l’Orient (1216–1227). Étude et publication de sources inédites des Archives vaticanes (Leiden, 2013).

11. Tribute, Islamic Law, and Diplomacy: the legal background to the Tunis Crusade of 1270 Michael Lower

Bird, Jessalynn (ed.), Papacy, Crusade, and Christian-Muslim Relations. Amsterdam University Press, 2018 doi: 10.5117/9789462986312/ch11 Abstract Tributary relationships between Christian and Muslim states were a regular feature of medieval Mediterranean diplomacy. At first glance, these relationships would seem to challenge premodern Islamic legal theories of inter-religious relations, which were predicated on strict notions of separation and superiority. A closer examination of classical and medieval Islamic jurisprudence on paying tribute to nonbelievers, however, suggests that jurists were less rigid in this matter than the delineation of such dichotomies would suggest. This flexibility, in turn, allowed rulers such as the emir of Tunis Abu ʿAbd-Allah al-Mustansir to act pragmatically in times of crisis. Without violating the legal norms of his day, the emir agreed to pay tribute to secure the withdrawal of the last crusade of King Louis IX of France in 1270. Keywords: tribute; Islamic law; diplomacy; crusade; Tunis; King Louis IX of France

For many legal scholars of the formative age of Islamic jurisprudence (eighth to twelfth centuries), tribute was a crucial element in relations with the non-Muslim world. As they looked back on the conquest period, these jurists saw how some settled communities of non-believers had accepted a subordinate but protected status under the new Islamic regime in return for annual payments, which were called jizya, or sometimes kharaj. They used the same terms to describe the payments they believed ought to accompany peace treaties which Islamic authorities concluded with non-Muslim powers. They stressed that payment of tribute in either case was no mere financial

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transaction, but rather an acknowledgement of political subordination to Islamic power. In this crucial period of legal development, Muslim states were usually the subordinators, Christian powers the subordinated. This dynamic began to shift with the growth of European commerce and European expansion into the Mediterranean in the eleventh century. The change was particularly dramatic in North Africa, where European demands for tribute grew increasingly shrill from the thirteenth century onward. The main actors here were the Hafsid dynasty of Tunisia, which presided over a prosperous regional economy centred on Tunis, and its neighbours to the north: Sicily, and, further west, the Crown of Aragon, home to a vibrant Catalan commercial sphere. In his classic study of North African–Catalan relations, Charles-Emmanuel Dufourcq used the archives of the Crown of Aragon to analyse the political and economic motives that drove these tribute demands, the different forms they took, and the varied results they achieved.1 Since Dufourcq was primarily interested in the imperial nature of Aragonese–Catalan expansion into the western Mediterranean, he did not address the Tunisian perspective on the European drive for tribute. Thanks in no small part to the extraordinary depth of his research, it is now possible to pose broader questions about the western Mediterranean in the central and later Middle Ages. New lines of inquiry can explore how political and economic powers on both shores of the sea interacted within complex networks of intercultural and interreligious contact. Making sense of the diplomacy surrounding the Tunisian tribute within this wider framework entails a different set of questions than the ones Dufourcq had in mind: how did Tunisian rulers understand demands for tribute? How did they act upon them? And how did Islamic cultural and legal traditions inform their responses? Mikel de Epalza, an expert on al-Andalus, launched an inquiry along these lines in a pioneering 1982 study of ‘Political Attitudes of Tunis around 1282’. He focused on a period of intense Aragonese intervention in Tunisian domestic politics that began in the late 1270s. In addition to repeated demands for tribute, the Aragonese backed a series of rebellions against the central government, which culminated in 1282 with the dispatch of an expeditionary force to Hafsid Tunisia.2 Epalza argued that the Hafsids 1 C.-E. Dufourcq, L’Espagne catalane et le Maghrib au XIIIe et XIVe siècles: de la bataille de Las Navas de Tolosa (1212) à l’avènement du sultan mérinide Abou-l-Hasan (1331) (Paris, 1966), 110–31. 2 R. Brunschvig, La Berbérie orientale sous les Hafsides, des origines à la fin du XVe siècle, 2 vols (Paris, 1940–7), i, 81–2.

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responded to these Aragonese attempts to destabilize their regime in a consistent, internally coherent fashion that was governed by centuries old Islamic principles. These constants of medieval Islamic legal and political tradition regulated Hafsid policy. In the matter of tribute, for example, the Hafsids refused to pay it, no matter how great the pressure placed on them to do so, because Islamic tradition absolutely forbade it. The weight of this tradition was such that they found it impossible to disregard. Their outright refusal to offer tribute led to a diplomatic impasse that escalated Tunisian–Aragonese conflict into full-blown war in 1282.3 My aim in this paper is to build on Epalza’s work in two ways. First, I would like to revisit what Islamic legal traditions say about paying tribute to non-believers. Epalza’s discussion of the relevant law is suggestive but rather general. I propose to analyse specific authors and texts, identifying not only commonalities but also differences among them. Second, I would like to push back the chronological frame into the 1270s and expand the geographical frame beyond the Crown of Aragon. At the beginning of that decade a Franco–Genoese–Sicilian crusade attacked Tunis. Negotiations over tribute featured heavily in the lead up to and at the end of the expedition. Since Epalza does not discuss these negotiations, they represent additional evidence of the Hafsid attitude towards paying tribute to Christian states.

Muslims and Non-Believers Muslim jurists of the classical period shared a common vocabulary for understanding relations between Muslims and non-believers. They divided the world into two parts: the dar al-Islam, or house of Islam, where Islamic sovereignty prevailed; and the dar al-harb, or house of war, the lands that were not subject to Islam’s political authority. In theory, the house of Islam was engaged in constant struggle with the house of war, at least until the latter submitted. The instrument by which this submission was to be accomplished was the jihad. Muslims were obliged to wage jihad, to strive in God’s path, until the dar al-Islam encompassed the entire world. 4 3 M. de Epalza, ‘Attitudes politiques de Tunis dans le conflit entre Aragonais et Français en Sicile autour de 1282’, in La società mediterranea all’epoca del Vespro: XI congresso di storia della corona d’Aragona, 4 vols (Palermo, 1983–4), ii, 579–601, at 579, 595, 597. 4 For this normative vocabulary, see A.A. Sachedina, ‘The Development of Jihad in Islamic Revelation and History’, in Cross, Crescent and Sword: the justification and limitation of war in Western and Islamic tradition, ed. J.T. Johnson and J. Kelsay (New York, 1990), 35–50, at 35–40; F.M. Donner, ‘The Sources of Islamic Conceptions of War’, in Just War and Jihad: historical and

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Although conflict was the normal state of affairs, Muslims could make accommodations with non-believers. Any Muslim could grant a resident of the dar al-harb, or harbi, a safe conduct (aman), which would allow the harbi to enter the dar al-Islam. After entering, the harbi became a mustaʾmin, a legal category of person entitled to live peacefully in Islamic lands for up to a year.5 While the aman provided security to individuals, the Islamic state could also make peace with entire communities of non-Muslims. Here the jurists made distinctions based on whether the community in question lived inside or outside of the house of Islam and whether it adhered to a religion that followed a revealed scripture. In the conquest period, the jurists believed, Arab polytheists had been given the choice of Islam or the sword. To the ‘people of the book’ (ahl al-kitab), however, a third choice was available. Christians, Jews, and others who refused either to embrace Islam or to fight to the death could enter into a permanent covenant with Muslim authorities. The members of the community would become dhimmi, or protected people, who could retain their natal faith while residing peacefully in the dar al-Islam. In return, they would acknowledge their subordinate status by making an annual payment to the treasury, called the jizya.6 The jurists found justification for this arrangement in the Qur’an: ‘Fight those from among The People of the Book who believe not in Allah nor the Last Day, nor hold that forbidden which has been forbidden by Allah and His Messenger, nor acknowledge the Religion of Truth, until they pay the jizya out of hand, and they be humbled’.7 Because the verse linked the jizya to humiliation, the jurists understood the term to refer to a kind of tribute – a payment that subordinated one group of people to another. Historical reports about the dhimmi compacts of the Prophet Muhammad and the early caliphs conveyed the same meaning of the term. These reports describe the jizya as theoretical perspectives on war and peace in Western and Islamic traditions, ed. J. Kelsay and J. Turner Johnson (New York, 1991), 31–69, at 50–2; Khaled Abou El Fadl, ‘Islamic Law and Muslim Minorities: the juristic discourse on Muslim minorities from the second/eighth to the eleventh/seventeenth centuries’, Islamic Law and Society, 1 (1994), 141–87, at 142–3; B. Tibi, ‘War and Peace in Islam’, in Islamic Political Ethics, ed. S. Hashmi (Princeton, 2002), 175–93, at 175–8; Y. Friedman, Tolerance and Coercion in Islam: interfaith relations in the Muslim tradition (Cambridge, 2003), 54–86. 5 The Islamic Law of Nations: Shaybani’s Siyar, ed. and trans. M. Khadduri (Baltimore MD, 1966), 47–8. Unless otherwise indicated, as in this instance, all other translations are the author’s own. 6 A. Fattal, Le statut légal des non-musulmans en pays d’Islam (Beirut, 1958), 264–91; M. Levy-Rubin, Non-Muslims in the Early Islamic Empire: from surrender to coexistence (New York, 2011), 58–88. 7 This translation is based on An English Interpretation of the Holy Qur’an with Full Arabic Text, trans. A. Yusuf Ali, ix, 29, with emendations.

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a collective payment calculated according to the number of eligible payers. The pact with the Christians of Hira, for example, stipulated a payment of 60,000 dinars based on 6,000 contributors. In short, as Majid Khadduri has shown, the jizya in its earliest legal conceptualization was a collective tribute.8 It would only later take on the meaning of poll tax, which is how it is often translated in modern studies.9 This semantic distinction – between jizya as tribute and jizya as poll tax – is important because it informed the jurists’ approach to the final category of security agreement that Muslims could conclude with non-believers: the treaty with residents of the house of war. Jurists called this agreement a muwadaʿa, which could be confirmed by a formal written truce, a hudna. Because war was the normal state of affairs between the dar al-Islam and the dar al-harb, the peace could only be temporary.10 The fixed duration of the muwadaʿa distinguished it from the dhimmi pact, which was permanently binding on both parties.11 Another distinctive feature of the muwadaʿa is that it could be made not only with people of the book, as in the case of the dhimmi pact, but with polytheists as well. The locus classicus here was the Hudaybiya Treaty, which, as Islamic tradition reports, the Prophet Muhammad forged with the Quraysh tribe of Mecca in 628. Although the treaty was broken in 630, when Muhammad took possession of Mecca, the jurists saw in it a precedent for peacemaking with the enemies of Islam.12

Tribute in the Muwadaʿa There is no demand for tribute in the text of the Hudaybiya Treaty that has come down to us. For some jurists, though, tribute from non-believers was an important component of the muwadaʿa. Muhammad b. Idris al-Shafiʿi (d. 820), who wrote at the height of Abbasid power, maintained that Islamic 8 M. Khadduri, War and Peace in the Law of Islam (Baltimore MD, 1955), 183–4. 9 The precise meanings of jizya and kharaj in the early Islamic era have occasioned considerable scholarly commentary. In addition to Khadduri’s analysis in War and Peace (175–201), which I follow here, see also J. Wellhausen, Das arabische Reich und sein Sturz (Berlin, 1902), 171; D.C. Dennett, Conversion and Poll Tax in Early Islam (Cambridge MA, 1950), 14–16, 51–5; and F. Løkkegaard, Islamic Taxation in the Classic Period, with Special Reference to Circumstances in Iraq (Copenhagen, 1950), 128–43. 10 Jurists of the Shaf iʿi school gave estimates of the maximum length of a truce with the non-believers ranging from four months to ten years. See P.M. Holt, Early Mamluk Diplomacy (1260–1290) (Leiden, 1995), 4. 11 Khadduri, War and Peace, 219. 12 Holt, Early Mamluk Diplomacy, 4.

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authorities should grant peace treaties to Christian states on the condition that they conceded an annual tribute or surrendered part of their territory. If the Christian state agreed to these terms, it became part of what al-Shafiʿi called the dar al-suhl (house of peace) or the dar al-ʿahd (house of covenant).13 This was a third zone of the world, separate from the houses of war and Islam, where Christian polities enjoyed a temporary peace with their Islamic neighbors. Followers of the Hanafi school did not recognize the existence of a house of peace. In their view, the land of a non-Muslim treaty partner became part of the dar al-Islam.14 Some of them, though, shared al-Shafiʿi’s enthusiasm for incorporating tribute into the muwadaʿa. Shams al-Aʾimma al-Sarakhsi (d. 1090) argued that non-believers offered tribute as part of a muwadaʿa so that Muslims would not proceed in a war-like fashion against them. The non-believers give it freely ‘and the Imam of the believers accepts it in order to advance the religion and to humiliate the polytheists; thus it is a kind of kharaj and jizya’.15 By assimilating tribute with the payments owed by dhimmi in recognition of their subordinate status within Islamic society, al-Sarakhsi seemed to emphasize the unequal character of the muwadaʿa. But what was the precise relationship between tribute and peace with non-believers? Was the former an essential condition of the latter, or not? Al-Sarakhsi explored this issue in two scenarios. The first involves an Imam who wants to annul a treaty with non-believers before it has expired, even though he has already received the full measure of tribute. If he chooses to break the agreement immediately after making it, then certainly he must return the entire tribute he received from the non-believers.16 But what if he decides to annul the accord a year later, for example; must he still return all of it, or only a pro-rated share? To answer this question, al-Sarakhsi turned to grammatical analysis. If the muwadaʿa in question states that peace was granted ʿala (on) the condition of tribute payments being made in return, 13 Khadduri, War and Peace, 144–5; Muhammad b. Idris al-Shafiʿi, Kitab al-umm, ed. M. Zahri al-Najar, 7 vols (Cairo, 1961), iv, 182. For Shafiʿi’s biography, see J.E. Lowry, ‘Al-Shafiʿi (D. 204/820)’, in Islamic Legal Thought: a compendium of Muslim jurists, ed. O. Arabi, et al., (Leiden, 2013), 43–54. 14 Khadduri, War and Peace, 145. 15 Muhammad b. Ahmad b. Abi Sahl Abu Bakr Shams al-Aʾimma al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir [li-Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Shaybani], ed. Abu ʿAbd-Allah Muhammad Hasan Ismaʿil al-Shafiʿi, 5 vols in 3 (Beirut, 1997), v, 12; translated as Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Shaybani, Le grand livre de la conduit de l’état, commenté par Abu Bakr Muhammad ibn Abu Sahl Ahmad Chams al-Aʾimmah as-Sarakhsi (400–83 H./1009–90), trans. M. Hamidullah, 4 vols (Ankara, 1989), iii, 246. For an important discussion of the scholarly controversies surrounding both al-Sarakhsi’s biography and the textual history of the Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, see O. Taştan, ‘Al-Sarakhsi’, in Islamic Legal Thought, 239–43, 247–50. 16 Al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, v, 16 (trans. Hamidullah, iii, 251).

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then these payments were an integral part of the treaty and a sine qua non of its proper observance. The Imam must refund all the tribute paid, no matter how long the treaty might still have to run. However, if the muwadaʿa called for peace bi (‘for,’ ‘at the price of’) a certain sum of money, then the agreement takes on a different character, similar to that of an exchange contract or salary agreement. In this kind of arrangement, the tribute is not an essential condition and the Imam only needs to refund the part of the tribute that applied to the unfulfilled years of the treaty.17 So if he gave a three-year treaty for three thousand dinars, but then cancelled it after one year, he would have to return two-years’ worth of tribute, or two thousand dinars, to the non-believers.18 In this latter construction, tribute featured as an important but not necessarily indispensable feature of the muwadaʿa. The same understanding of tribute’s role emerged when al-Sarakhsi turned to the second scenario he used to explore the relationship between peace-making and financial compensation. The question here was which enemies of the Islamic State could receive a truce from the Imam in return for tribute. As a kind of kharaj or jizya, tribute could certainly be taken from non-believers when a treaty was forged with them. But al-Sarakhsi insisted that it should not be accepted from apostates, who merited the death penalty, or from idolators, who should be invited to embrace Islam or else fought if they refused.19 Abu Bakr b. Masud al-Kasani, a Hanafi jurist based in Aleppo in the mid twelfth century, shared al-Sarakhsi’s conclusion that tribute was too closely associated with the jizya of the dhimmi for it to feature in any muwadaʿa except one concluded with people of the Book. It was possible to make peace with Muslim rebels (against the Imam) ‘because what is allowed with unbelievers is allowed with Muslims’; but the rebels should not pay tribute in exchange for peace because ‘the jizya is only taken from the unbelievers’. If Muslim authorities receive wealth from the rebels in the course of hostilities, they must return it in full at the end of the conflict. By a similar logic, al-Kasani prohibits the extraction of tribute from Arab polytheists and apostates: tribute is a kind of jizya and only the people of the book were entitled to pay it. The sole choice available to the polytheists and the apostates should be Islam or the sword.20 17 Al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, ii, 113–14 (trans. Hamidullah, i, 410–12); see also the important analysis of al-Sarakhsi’s argument in H. Kruse, Islamische Völkerrechtslehre (Bochum, 1979), 119–21. 18 Al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, ii, 113, v, 16 (trans. Hamidullah, i, 411, iii, 251). 19 Al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, v, 12–15 (trans. Hamidullah, iii, 246–50). 20 Abu Bakr b. Masud al-Kasani, Kitab badaʾiʿ al-sanaʾiʿ fi tartib al-sharaʾiʿ, ed. A. Mukhtar ʿUthman’, 10 vols (Cairo, 1968–1972), ix, 4325; German translation in Kruse, Islamische

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If tribute was not an essential condition of the muwadaʿa, then treaties could be made without it. Al-Kasani glossed the Qur’anic injunction ‘And if they incline to peace, incline thou also to it’ (Q. 8. 61) to mean that ‘God … has allowed us [to make peace] with or without compensation’. 21 In advocating this position, al-Kasani was looking back towards an earlier generation of Hanafi jurisprudence. Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Shaybani (d. 808) left it to the Imam to decide whether to grant peace to residents of the house of war without obtaining tribute from them in return. If the Imam determined that the harbis were too strong to defeat and that it would be better for the Muslims to make a tribute-less peace, then he could do so.22

Paying Tribute to Christian Rulers Making a tribute-less peace was one thing; paying tribute for peace was another. This was a challenging proposition to the jurists, given their assimilation of tribute with jizya, the humiliating payment of the dhimmi. Even so, it was not an unknown practice in early Islamic history, especially among the Umayyads. In times of internal unrest, some caliphs had purchased the support, or at least the neutrality, of foreign powers with tribute. During his struggle with Ali, the Umayyad claimant Muʿawiya paid tribute to the Byzantine emperor Constans II in 658 in return for a peace treaty. Muʿawiya would make similar arrangements with other emperors once he became caliph.23 Caliph ʿAbd al-Malik also paid tribute to the Byzantines in exchange for peace when he was trying to suppress insurgencies in Iraq.24 The question was whether the shariʿa permitted such actions. Early Islamic legal scholars developed a system to classify human behaviour in relation to Islamic norms. There were some things a believer must do, such as daily prayer. These were fard (enjoined). There were other things a believer must never do, such as drink wine. These were haram (forbidden). Within these limits, there were activities that were neither mandatory nor forbidden. Some were recommended (mandub); some were objectionable (makruh); and some were morally neutral or merely permitted (jaʾiz) from the law’s point of view. Where did paying tribute to Christians fall on this scale? Völkerrechtslehre, Appendix A, 190. 21 Ibid. 22 Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Shaybani, al-Qanun al-dawli al-Islami: Kitab al-siyar li-l-Shaybani, ed. M. Khadduri (Beirut: Al-Dar al-Muttahida li-l-Nashr), 165; Shaybani’s Siyar, 154. 23 Kruse, Islamische Völkerrechtslehre, 90. 24 C.F. Robinson, ʿAbd al-Malik (Oxford, 2005), 28–9.

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Umayyad jurists were sensitive to the political exigencies their caliphs faced. ʿAbd al-Rahman al-Awzaʿi (d. 774), a distinguished jurist, who lived on into the Abbasid period, could not recommend paying tribute to a Christian state. During a period of internal unrest, however, necessity might demand it. In that situation, he said, ‘I do not see any harm in doing this, if such is the case’.25 The Umayyad sympathizer Sufyan al-Thawri (d. 778) took a similar view.26 For these jurists, the circumstances in which tribute was paid were paramount. Though usually not recommended, the practice was not objectionable in times of crisis. Sufyan al-Thawri spent much of his later life on the run from Abbasid authorities. As the new regime asserted itself against internal dissidents such as al-Thawri, it also began to make its presence felt on the international stage. In relations with non-Muslim states, the balance of power shifted in the Abbasids’ direction. At its height, during the reign of Caliph Harun al-Rashid (r. 786–809), the Abbasid empire made Byzantium its tributary. Empress Irene sent annual payments to Baghdad. When her successor Nicephorus tried to stop the payments and even demanded the return of past ones, Harun al-Rashid compelled him to maintain the tribute by force of arms.27 In this environment, we might expect jurists to take a dimmer view of tribute payments to Christian rulers. Further encouraging this tendency was the critical attitude of Abbasid jurists towards the Umayyad dynasty. The flowering of legal scholarship under the Abbasids is sometimes described as an extended commentary on Umayyad shortcomings. It is no surprise, therefore, to find some Abbasid jurists questioning the conclusions of their Umayyad predecessors on tribute payments. Al-Hasan b. Ziyad al-Luʾluʾi (d. 819) was a student of Abu Hanifa. In contrast to al-Awzaʿi and Sufyan al-Thawri, al-Luʾluʾi held that no political emergency was grave enough to justify tribute to non-believers. Even if the Imam believed Islam was vulnerable to attack, he should still go to war instead of paying tribute. Becoming a tributary to non-believers reversed the natural order of things, placing the Muslims in the degraded position reserved for the Christians who paid the jizya to them. It was better to fight than to become the dhimmi of the Christians.28 25 Abu Jaʿfar Muhammad b. Jarir al-Tabari, Das Konstantinopler Fragment des Kitab ihtilaf al-fuqaha, ed. J. Schacht (Leiden, 1933), 18; translated as Al-Tabari’s Book of Jihad: a translation from the original Arabic, trans. Y.S. Ibrahim (Lewiston ME, 2007), 84. 26 Ibid. 27 Khadduri, War and Peace, 217. 28 Al-Tabari, Kitab ihtilaf al-fuqaha, 19–20 (trans. Ibrahim, 86).

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Al-Luʾluʾi made a powerful case against paying tribute to Christian rulers, grounded in the conflation of tribute with jizya. As we have seen, other jurists accepted the identity of the two terms. None of them, though, saw in that assimilation a basis for categorically forbidding Islamic authorities from granting tribute to a non-Muslim state. In rejecting that possibility outright, al-Luʾluʾi proves to be the exception among the jurists. Al-Luʾluʾi’s contemporary, al-Shaf iʿi, shared some of his reservations about paying tribute to Christians, urging Muslim rulers to avoid it if they could. In particular, al-Shafiʿi argued, a Muslim ruler should never agree to a fixed schedule of annual payments. However, if the ruler and his troops found themselves confronted in the f ield by an absolutely superior enemy, which they had no hope of repulsing, then they could stop the battle by conceding tribute. He likened the embattled squadron to a Muslim captive, who could certainly be ransomed for money.29 AlShaybani also allowed concessions of tribute in wartime. His commentary on the question takes the form of a dialogue between al-Shaybani’s fellow Hanafi jurist, Abu Yusuf, who asks the questions, and Abu Hanifa himself, who answers them: I asked: If the Muslims were in a city besieged by the enemy and the enemy asked them to enter into a peace agreement for a period of years whereby they would pay the enemy a fixed annual tribute, do you think that it would be lawful for the Muslims to enter into such an agreement and pay the tribute to the unbelievers, if they were afraid of destruction and realized that an agreement would be better for them? He replied: Yes, that would be permissible in such circumstances.30

These Muslim soldiers fear for their lives, just as the men in Shafiʿi’s combat unit do. Al-Shaybani, however, offers his soldiers more latitude in their dealings with the enemy. To extricate themselves, they may offer more than the one-time windfall Shafiʿi allowed. Al-Shaybani permits his soldiers to conclude a muwadaʿa that provides fixed annual payments to non-Muslims over several years. Al-Shaybani allowed Muslim forces to concede tribute out of fear of destruction. Al-Sarakhsi envisioned a more active role for Islamic authorities. To be sure, they should only conclude a peace treaty in return for tribute out of fear of the polytheists and only necessity could justify such an 29 Al-Tabari, Kitab ihtilaf al-fuqaha, 18–19 (trans. Ibrahim, 85). 30 Al-Shaybani, Kitab al-siyar, 165 (trans. Shaybani’s Siyar, 154).

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arrangement.31 If the Muslims were superior in power to the non-believers, they should not give them tribute, ‘because in this there is an imposition of distrust, an imposition of humiliation. The believer is not allowed to humiliate himself, while God is still honouring him’.32 But if fear and urgent necessity had brought the Muslims low, then by all means they should pay tribute to save themselves: ‘If the Muslims fear the polytheists and demand a muwadaʿa from them, but the polytheists will not give them peace, unless the Muslims give them money for it, that is not to be condemned, if need is present’.33 As al-Sarakhsi saw it, it was better for Muslims to lose just their money to the non-believers, not their money and their lives. In support of his opinion, he cited a hadith in which the Prophet Muhammad said, ‘Place your goods before you, and yourself before your religion’.34 Besides allowing Muslims to be active partners in the muwadaʿa, alSarakhsi loosened the restrictions on paying tribute in another way as well. Muslims could pay tribute to save their wealth as well as their lives: ‘There is nothing wrong with paying some money … if one fears the loss of all of it’.35 Following this formulation, a Muslim ruler could pay tribute on the basis of a financial calculus. Al-Kasani also granted the authorities discretion in their treaty arrangements with Christians. In traditional fashion, he argued that there was nothing reprehensible about giving over money to the non-believers in exchange for peace when necessity demanded.36 But they could also conclude treaties involving tribute with longer-range goals in mind, such as providing a pause in hostilities that allowed the Muslims to regroup and later resume the jihad more effectively. Paying tribute could be ‘a way to prepare for the [soon to be resumed] struggle; thus it belongs to the direction of war with wealth and life and is therefore allowed’.37 The idea that paying tribute to non-believers could advance the holy war is far removed from the narrow exception Shafiʿi carved out of his general ban on the practice. Writing in twelfth-century Aleppo, al-Kasani had a first-hand view of the crucial role that tribute could play in inter-religious diplomacy. The Burid rulers of Damascus, for example, in response to the Zengid threat from the north, made a series of alliances with the kingdom of Jerusalem in the 31 Al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, v, 4 (trans. Hamidullah, iii, 238). 32 Al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, v, 5 (trans. Hamidullah, iii, 239). 33 Al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, v, 4 (trans. Hamidullah, iii, 238). 34 Al-Sarakhsi, Sharh al-siyar al-kabir, v, 5 (trans. Hamidullah, iii, 239). 35 Ibid. 36 Al-Kasani, Kitab badaʾiʿ al-sanaʾiʿ fi tartib al-sharaʾiʿ, ix, 4325 (trans. Kruse, 190). 37 Ibid.

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1140s. One of these called for paying the Franks 20,000 dinars per month.38 Al-Kasani’s legal scholarship accorded well with these political realities. He permitted Muslim rulers to do exactly as the Burids had done: pay tribute to non-Muslims not only in life threatening emergencies, as Shafiʿi had allowed, but over the course of multi-year peace treaties forged as part of long-term financial or political strategies.39

The Maliki School In the western Mediterranean, it was Maliki rather than Hanafi jurisprudence that became dominant.40 The Maliki school enjoyed great prominence under the Almoravids, the Sanhaja Berber dynasty that controlled much of the western Maghreb and al-Andalus from roughly the mid-eleventh to the mid-twelfth centuries. The early Almoravids grounded their legitimacy in adherence to Maliki fiqh, especially the school’s promotion of jihad and its injunction against collecting taxes not directly mentioned in the Qur’an. 41 This rigorist stance allowed the Almoravid amir Yusuf b. Tashfin to build a case for the occupation of al-Andalus, where the Christian kingdoms of the north were having their way with the region’s local Muslim powers, the so-called taʾifa (party, faction) kings. 42 These petty princelings were not only failing to prosecute the jihad, they were raising non-Qur’anic taxes in order to pay tribute to the Christian kings they were supposed to be f ighting, and upon whom they were actually relying for military aid against their co-religionists. 43 Ibn Tashfin secured fatwas from two distinguished scholars – the famous philosopher al-Ghazali and the Maliki faqih al-Turtushi – that legitimized military action against the taʾifa kings.44 38 On the Damascene tribute, see S. Heidemann, ‘Financing the Tribute to the Kingdom of Jerusalem: an urban tax in Damascus’, Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, 70 (2007), 117–42, at 126. 39 Al-Kasani, Kitab badaʾiʿ al-sanaʾiʿ fi tartib al-sharaʾiʿ, ix, 4325 (trans. Kruse, 190). 40 For an overview, see M.H. Mansour, The Maliki School of Law: spread and domination in North and West Africa 8th to 14th centuries C.E. (London, 1995). 41 R.A. Messier, The Almoravids and the Meanings of Jihad (Santa Barbara CA, 2010), xvi, 176. 42 On this period of Andalusian political history, see D. Wasserstein, The Rise and Fall of the Party Kings: politics and society in Islamic Spain 1002–1086 (Princeton NJ, 1985). 43 F. Clément, Pouvoir et légitimité en Espagne musulmane à l’époque des taifas (Ve/XIe siècle): l’imam fictif (Paris, 1997), 122–6. 44 María J. Viguera, ‘Las cartas de al-Ghazali y al-Turtusi al soberano almoravid Yusuf b. Tasufin’, Al-Andalus 42 (1977), 341–74. These documents are summarized in ʿAbd al-Rahman b. Khaldun, Kitab al-ʿibar wa-diwan al-mubtadaʾ wa-l-khabar fi ayyam al-ʿarab wa-l-ʿajam wa-l-barbar

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With the fatwas in hand, Ibn Tashfin occupied al-Andalus in a series of military campaigns in the 1080s and 1090s. 45 Later Almoravid rulers would develop more nuanced views on the constellation of issues – tribute, taxes, and Christian military aid – that was so crucial to their early ideology of expansion. By the 1130s, the dynasty was hiring Christian mercenaries to defend itself from the Almohads and was using non-Qur’anic taxes to pay the soldiers’ wages. 46 The question that concerns us here, of course, is how the Maliki jurisprudence that ostensibly underpinned the Almoravid project viewed these issues, especially that of tribute payments to non-Muslims. The fatwas that Ibn Tashfin solicited to justify his intervention in al-Andalus are of only limited help in this regard. Al-Ghazali certainly mentioned how Christians had obliged Andalusi Muslims to pay tribute, but he offered no legal analysis of the issue and even if he had it could not be taken as representative of the Maliki school since he was a leading exponent of the Shafiʿi tradition. 47 Al-Turtushi was a Maliki scholar, but he did not explicitly address the tribute issue in his letter to Ibn Tashfin, limiting himself instead to the expression of the generic hope that the Almoravid ruler would keep the Muslim community pure of religious innovations.48 A wider-ranging examination of Maliki teachings on tribute and inter-religious relations, suggests, in any event, that these were less absolute than Ibn Tashfin’s dealings with the taʾifa kings might lead one to believe. The formative early works of Maliki fiqh, Malik b. Anas’s Muwatta and Sahnun b. Saʿid’s Mudawanna, do not discuss jizya in the context of treaty making between Muslim and Christian powers. 49 Because so much later Maliki jurisprudence would take the form of commentaries on or summaries of these seminal works, the result of this absence is that the school in general has much less to say about tribute payments to non-believers than either the Hanafi school, the Shafiʿi school, or the jurists of the Umayyad period. The two fullest Maliki discussions are those of Ibn Abi Zayd al-Qarawani, wa-man ʿasarahum min dhawi al-sultan al-akbar, 7 vols (Beirut, 1956–61), vi, 384; translated as Histoire des Berbères et des dynasties musulmanes de l’Afrique septentrionale, ed. and trans. W. MacGuckin de Slane, 4 vols (Algiers, 1852–6), ii, 79–80. 45 Messier, Almoravids, 101. 46 F. Clément, ‘Reverter et son fils, deux officiers catalans au service des sultans de Marrakech’, Medieval Encounters, 9 (2003), 79–106, at 81. 47 Viguera, ‘Las cartas de al-Ghazali y al-Turtusi’, 357; E. Moosa, ‘Abu Hamid al-Ghazali (d. 505/1111)’, in Islamic Legal Thought, 261–83. 48 Viguera, ‘Las cartas’, 372. 49 Malik b. Anas, Al-Muwatta of Imam Malik Ibn Anas: the first formulation of Islamic law (New York, 1989); ʿAbd al-Salam b. Saʿid al-Sahnun, al-Mudawwana al-kubra li-Imam Malik ibn Anas al-Asbahi, 5 vols (Beirut, 1994), especially the Kitab al-jihad (i, 496–541).

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the tenth-century faqih, and Ibn Rushd (Averroës), the twelfth-century jurist and philosopher. Ibn Abi Zayd takes up the question of jizya in inter-religious diplomacy in the Kitab al-Nawadir, his major compendium of Maliki fiqh.50 He marshals a series of earlier Maliki authorities to make two key claims. First, jizya should only be received from non-Muslims in regions where Islamic sovereignty prevails. He quotes Ibn Habib (d. 852) to the effect that, ‘if they offer jizya, receive it from them if they are in a place in which the power and rule of Islam holds sway over them, or if the Muslims have won what was around them and what was behind them and [what] surrounded them’.51 With this principle in mind, he recalls the criticism that the Abbasid caliph al-Maʾmun apparently encountered from some legal scholars when he agreed to accept tribute payments from the Byzantines in return for peace. However, and this is his second point, if the Muslims lack the strength to fight their enemies, it is perfectly permissible for them to make peace without any monetary compensation, following the prophet’s example in the Treaty of Hudaybiya: ‘It is not objectionable that they [the Muslims] made peace in return for nothing being taken from them; the prophet made peace on the day of Hudaybiya in return for nothing’.52 Two main differences stand out when we compare Ibn Abi Zayd’s analysis to the Hanafi teachings examined above. The first is Ibn Abi Zayd’s preference for tribute-less agreements with the Christian powers of the dar al-harb. While the Hanafis allowed the Imam to make treaties with non-believers with or without the receipt of tribute in return, the Maliki jurist discouraged him from demanding money in exchange for peace. The second area of divergence relates to Muslim rulers paying tribute for a truce. Unlike the Hanafis, Ibn Abi Zar does not discuss this scenario at all. Neither he, nor indeed any of the other Maliki jurists cited in the Kitab al-Nawadir, explicitly permit or forbid the practice. The only explicit analysis of the issue from a Maliki author that I have found comes from Ibn Rushd’s treatise on legal reasoning, Bidayat alMujtahid.53 On the question of whether ‘the Imam can negotiate a truce 50 M. von Bredow, Der Heilige Krieg (Gihad) aus der Sicht der Malikitischen Rechtsschule, Beruiter Texte und Studien 44 (Beirut, 1994). This is a critical edition of the Kitab al-jihad, which forms one part of Ibn Abi Zayd’s Kitab al-nawadir and which contains his discussion of jizya in the context of inter-religious diplomacy. 51 Bredow, Der Heilige Krieg, 42. 52 Bredow, Der Heilige Krieg, 430–2. 53 Abu al-Walid b. Ahmad b. Rushd (Averroës), Bidayat al-mujtahid wa-nihayat al-muqtasid, 2 vols (Cairo, 1966); trans. I. Ahsan Khan Nyazee as The Distinguished Jurist’s Primer: a translation of Bidayat al-Mujtahid, 2 vols (Reading, 1994).

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with the unbelievers on the basis of the Muslims giving something to the unbelievers’, he discerns two schools of thought, one represented by al-Awzaʿi, the other by Shaf iʿi. For al-Awzaʿi, the Imam could pay tribute to avoid a greater trial or indeed if any other urgent need made it expedient to do so. As precedent, according to Ibn Rushd, al-Awzaʿi pointed to a hadith that described how Muhammad was prepared to give part of the produce of Medina to forces that had gathered to attack the city, a concession that ultimately proved unnecessary. Shafiʿi, in Ibn Rushd’s account, argued that the Imam should pay tribute for peace only if the Muslims feared being numerically overwhelmed by the enemy, or ‘because of a severe ordeal’ they were undergoing. Muslims in this situation were like prisoners, Shafiʿi argued, and just as it was permissible to pay ransom for Muslim captives, so too was it acceptable to concede tribute to save Muslim forces overwhelmed by an enemy. While al-Awzaʿi certainly allowed the Imam greater latitude than Shafiʿi, both jurists, in Ibn Rushd’s view, ultimately permitted the Imam to offer tribute for peace. As Ibn Rushd represented it, there was no divide in Islamic jurisprudence between those who allowed the payment of tribute to non-believers and those who forbid it. Instead, he presents the tradition as accepting the practice, with disagreement arising only over the circumstances under which tribute could be offered.54

The Tunisian Tribute Classical Islamic jurisprudence offered a range of views on tribute payments, from the outright rejection of al-Luʾluʾi, to the limited consent of Shafiʿi, the more permissive stances of al-Awzaʿi, al-Shaybani, al-Sarakhsi, and al-Kasani, the silence of Ibn Abi Zayd, and the measured analysis of Ibn Rushd. With this breadth of opinion in mind, we can return to the Hafsid rulers of Tunis and their relations with European states. In the absence of a general prohibition against paying tribute to Christians that would have ‘governed’ and ‘structured’ Hafsid inter-religious diplomacy, could the dynasty have actually paid tribute to Christians? In their studies of the Tunisian tribute, Epalza and Dufourcq focused on the Crown of Aragon and its financial demands. Despite working in the same source base, the two scholars came to opposite conclusions. Epalza’s belief that Islamic tradition discouraged such payments led 54 Ibn Rushd, Bidayat al-mujtahid, vol. i, 543–4 (trans. Nyazee, i, 463–4).

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him to deny that Tunis ever paid tribute to Christians.55 Dufourcq, by contrast, in his search for evidence of proto-colonial European domination of North Africa in the Middle Ages, found Tunisian tribute payments to the Aragonese almost everywhere he looked. Hafsid diplomats often brought gifts to the Aragonese court when they came to negotiate a treaty. For Dufourcq, these gifts were tributes in disguise. The Hafsids also employed a Christian mercenary guard. By the late thirteenth century, Catalan troops compromised the vast majority of recruits. The emirs paid a large annual sum to hire these mercenaries, which in Dufourcq’s opinion also constituted a form of tribute. So too, in his view, did the favourable customs arrangements the Aragonese negotiated in their commercial treaties with Tunis. The Aragonese frequently demanded, and sometimes received, a rebate on the customs duties their merchants paid in the Tunisian markets. Taken together, the gifts, the hiring of mercenaries, and the tax break meant that the emir had ‘somewhat taken the figure of a tributary’.56 What these contrasting assessments suggest is that, taken on its own, the Aragonese evidence does not provide a clear answer to whether Tunis paid tribute to a Christian state in the late thirteenth century. Islamic tradition may not have forbidden it, but the evidence Dufourcq marshals for such payments is not definitive. He groups together under the broad category of ‘tribute’ various financial exchanges that could just as plausibly be seen as discrete transactions. Tunisian authorities considered gifts, for example, a category of exchange distinct from tribute.57 To make the difference clear, the gifts usually took the form of objects – a deluxe tent, for instance – not cash. The exchange involving the mercenaries seems closer to a contract of hire than a tribute. Tributaries pay to avoid being attacked by the demander of tribute. They do not receive much more than that. But the emirs obtained a tangible return on their payments to the Crown of Aragon – Catalan soldiers who served them well in war and peace.58 The customs rebate was just that – a financial incentive to trade in Hafsid Tunisia. Other European maritime states received similar incentives, including some, such as Genoa, which could never be construed 55 Epalza, ‘Attitudes politiques de Tunis’, 595, 597. 56 Dufourcq, L’Espagne catalane et le Maghrib, 130. 57 C. Windler, ‘Tributes and Presents in Franco-Tunisian Diplomacy’, Journal of Early Modern History, 4 (2000), 168–99, at 175. 58 S. Barton, ‘Traitors to the Faith? Christian Mercenaries in al-Andalus and the Maghreb, c.1100–1300’, in Medieval Spain: culture, conflict, and coexistence: studies in honour of Angus MacKay, ed. R. Collins (Basingstoke, 2002), 23–45, at 34–8.

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as Tunisian overlords.59 It is not clear why the Crown of Aragon should be considered one for receiving these incentives either. Given how ambiguous the Aragonese material is, it is fortunate that additional evidence for the Tunisian tribute is available for the later thirteenth century. It comes from the peace treaty that concluded a Franco– Genoese–Sicilian crusade to Tunis in 1270 and it points to the Kingdom of Sicily as a recipient of tribute from the Hafsids.60 The agreement finalized between Tunis and the crusaders on 30 October 1270 marked the culmination of extensive negotiations between the emir of Tunis, Abu ʿAbd-Allah al-Mustansir, and the king of Sicily, Charles of Anjou, over the payment of tribute. Charles had taken up the issue shortly after his conquest of the island from the Hohenstaufen dynasty in 1266. As he consolidated his rule, he sought to exploit Hohenstaufen rights to lands and revenues wherever he could. One of these rights was to an annual tribute that Charles believed the first Hafsid ruler of Tunis, Abu Zakariya, had given to Frederick II of Hohenstaufen, emperor of Germany and king of Sicily, in the 1230s. There is little contemporary evidence for this initial round of payments. The only surviving Hohenstaufen–Hafsid peace treaty – which was agreed in 1221 – makes no mention of tribute.61 A southern French chronicle reports that a charter recording Abu Zakariya’s promise of tribute did exist and that Angevin officials found it when they searched the Hohenstaufen archives in Naples.62 If it ever existed, that charter does not survive today. That leaves the Sicilian chronicler Saba Malaspina as the sole exactly contemporary source for the Hohenstaufen tribute, which he describes as a fee the emir paid to ensure Tunisian access to the Sicilian wheat market.63 However uncertain the existence and character of these early payments were, Charles used them as the basis to claim the tribute anew from al-Mustansir in the

59 L. de Mas Latrie, Traités de paix et de commerce et documents divers concernant les relations des Chretiens avec l’Arabes de l’Afrique septentrionale au Moyen Âge (Paris, 1866), 122–5 (commercial treaty of November 1272 between Genoa and Tunis). 60 S. de Sacy, ‘Mémoire sur le traité fait entre le roi de Tunis et Philippe-le-Hardi, en 1270, pour l’évacuation du territoire de Tunis par l’armée des croisés’, Histoire et mémoires de l’Institut royal de France, Académie des inscriptions et belles-lettres, 9 (1831), 448–77; de Sacy’s French translation of the treaty is reprinted in Mas Latrie, Traités de paix, 93–6. My translation is based on Mohammed Talbi’s corrected French translation included in P. Garrigon-Grandchamp, ‘Documents divers relatifs à la croisade de Saint Louis contre Tunis (1270)’, Les cahiers de Tunisie, 25 (1977), 245–82. 61 Mas Latrie, Traités de paix, 153. 62 Majus chronicon Lemovicense, in RHGF, xxi, 776. 63 Saba Malaspina, Sallae, sive rerum Sicularum, liber VI ab anno Christi MCCL usque ad annum MCCLXXVI, in Rerum Italicarum Scriptores, ed. L.A. Muratori, 25 vols (Milan, 1723–51), viii, 860.

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late 1260s. It is with these claims that the Tunisian tribute emerges into the historical light of day. The registers of Angevin correspondence reveal a burst of Siculo-Tunisian diplomacy in 1269 and 1270. Over an eleven-month span, between May 1269 and April 1270, Charles and al-Mustansir exchanged several embassies.64 Our best source for what was discussed in the course of these exchanges is Pierre de Condé, who served King Louis IX of France on the Tunis Crusade and wrote letters to colleagues back home. During the crusade, Pierre apparently spoke several times to the envoy Charles had sent to Tunis in May 1269 and again in April 1270. This envoy told Pierre that on those occasions he had asked for a renewal of the tribute at its previous rate, along with payment of arrears ‘from the time of Manfred and Frederick’.65 The implication here is that al-Mustansir had initially carried on with Abu Zakariya’s tribute payments to Frederick but at some point had stopped them, perhaps at Frederick’s death in 1250 or during the brief reign of Frederick’s illegitimate son Manfred (1258–66). According to the envoy, al-Mustansir would only contemplate renewing the tribute from Charles’s own accession in 1266 and this proved a sticking point in the negotiations. By the time the envoy arrived in Tunis on his final mission, in April 1270, events were in train that neither Charles nor al-Mustansir anticipated. One month earlier, King Louis IX of France had raised the oriflamme at St Denis, signalling the start of his second crusade. For reasons that are still debated, this expedition found its way to Tunis, not the Near East, landing before the ruins of Carthage on 18 July 1270.66 As Louis’s brother, Charles was expected to join the crusade. But it took him a long time to get there. He did not arrive in the crusader camp until 25 August, the very day that Louis died of fever.67 In the absence of strong leadership from Louis’s son and heir, Phillip III, Charles took command of the crusade. Rather than trying to conquer the city, Charles immediately launched peace talks with al-Mustansir. These resulted in an agreement that was 64 R. Lefevre, La crociata di Tunisi del 1270 nei documenti del distrutto archivio angioino di Napoli (Rome, 1977), nos. 29 (18 August 1269), 84 (22 April 1270). These documents are also printed in I registri della cancelleria angioina ricostruiti da Riccardo Filangieri con la collaborazione degli archivisti napoletani, ed. R. Filangieri et al. (Naples, 1950– ), ii, nos. 247, 692; v, no. 190. 65 Pierre de Condé, Epistola Petri de Condeto, ad Matthaeum Abbatem, in Spicilegium: sive, collectio veterum aliquot scriptorum qui in Galliae bibliothecis delituerant, ed. L. d’Achéry, 3 vols (Paris, 1723), iii, 667–8. 66 For a survey of the literature, see M. Lower, ‘Conversion and St. Louis’s Last Crusade’, JEH, 58 (2007), 211-231 at 212-15. 67 Geoffrey de Beaulieu, Vita Ludovici noni, in RHGF, xx, 21, 24.

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finalized on 30 October 1270. On 5 November, al-Mustansir swore to observe the provisions of the treaty in the presence of Geoffrey de Beaumont, the chancellor of Sicily. The treaty was then recorded in Arabic and in a European language, either Latin or Old French, or perhaps both. The European version has not survived, but the Tunisian one has. What we have, then, is an authentic hudna that confirms a muwadaʿa between the emir of Tunis and the Christian princes who had invaded his lands.68 The talks that led to the agreement were multi-lateral, in the sense that they included King Philip III of France and King Thibaut of Navarre in addition to Charles and al-Mustansir. However, it is clear from even the Arabic version of the treaty, which presents the terms in as favourable a light as it can for its home audience, that Charles’s interests were front and centre in the negotiations. Al-Mustansir agreed to pay a war indemnity of 210,000 gold ounces, to be divided evenly between Charles, Philip, and Thibaut. Charles was also the beneficiary of the final clause of the treaty, which runs as follows: It is added to the present conventions that there will be paid to the illustrious Charles, by the grace of God king of Sicily, for the past f ive years, ending at the date of the present letter, that which was ordinarily paid to the emperor. It will be equally paid to the said illustrious king, counting from this day and in advance, each year, double what was paid to the emperor.69

Whether or not the Hafsids had ever actually paid money to the Hohenstaufen, al-Mustansir stated here that payments had been made and that he was now going to renew them at double the previous rate in addition to making up five-years worth of arrears. A fixed annual sum, payable in advance to a Christian state – this was a tribute in the eyes of the jurists we encountered above. Al-Mustansir honoured the tribute commitment he made in the Treaty of Tunis. Multiple entries in the Angevin registers in the years following the crusade acknowledge receipt of Tunisian tribute payments and Tunis remained a tributary of Sicily until al-Mustansir’s death in 1277.70 This was not something to be proud of and one Hafsid official, at least, may have 68 On the versions of the treaty, see de Sacy, ‘Mémoire’, 473–6; Mas Latrie, Traités de paix, 137–40. 69 De Sacy, ‘Mémoire’, 471, 466–7. 70 Registri della cancelleria angioina, vi, no. 1376; vii, no. 83; ix, nos. 9, 27, 39.

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disapproved of the treaty.71 Overall, though, the agreement was well received in popular and official circles. Ibn Khaldun reports that al-Mustansir did not hide the enormous indemnity he had paid to secure the crusaders’ withdrawal. ‘The Sultan demanded from his subjects the reimbursement of the sums he had just paid the enemy. He had given, it was said, 10 mule-loads of silver. The people eagerly reimbursed him this sum’.72 From Ibn Khaldun’s point of view, at least, the payment of money to Christians in return for peace had not exposed al-Mustansir to public disapproval. Moreover, two influential Maliki jurists signed the Treaty of Tunis as witnesses. These were Ibn Zaytun, who led a revival of the Maliki school in Tunis during al-Mustansir’s reign, and Ibn Abi al-Dunya, who founded a Maliki law school in Tripoli that he named al-Mustansiriyya in honour of the emir.73 The local response to the Treaty of Tunis – general favour combined with isolated disapproval – matches well with the range of views on paying tribute to Christians that we have seen among the jurists who studied the question.

Conclusion Tributary relationships between Christian and Muslim states were a regular feature of medieval Mediterranean diplomacy. At first glance, these relationships would seem to challenge classical Islamic legal theories of inter-religious relations, which were predicated on strict notions of separation and superiority. Paying tribute to Christian rulers implied the political subordination of believers, which was the opposite of what was supposed to happen: the spread of Islam until the entire world became its house. Nevertheless, the jurists proved less rigid in this matter than the delineation of such stark dichotomies would seem to suggest. With some exceptions (most notably al-Luʾluʾi), they tended to eschew hard-line stances in favour of a pragmatic approach. As Ibn Rushd recognized in his survey of the tradition, their main concern was to determine the precise conditions under which a Muslim ruler could agree to pay tribute without reproach. Recent scholarship on classical Islamic jurists has underscored their flexibility in the face of the many challenges that medieval Mediterranean life forced them to confront. Tribute payments were far from the only issue that troubled essentializing notions of dar al-Islam and dar al-harb at that 71 This was Ibn ʿAjlan, a ‘man of religion’: Brunschvig, Berbérie orientale, i, 63 n. 2. 72 Ibn Khaldun, Kitab al-ʿibar, vi, 671 (Histoire des Berbères, ii, 368–9). 73 Brunschvig, Berbérie orientale, i, 63 n. 2; ii, 291.

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time. When and how should jihad be prosecuted?74 Could Muslim rulers call upon non-believers for military aid?75 Were Muslims obliged to emigrate from non-Muslim lands?76 The answers the jurists gave to these questions – as well as many more – were not only diverse within and across the various legal schools, but also sensitive to the real-life predicaments in which Muslim rulers and their subjects found themselves. In the medieval Mediterranean, it was not just individual actors – the rulers who preferred diplomacy to war with the religious ‘other’, the merchants who crossed the religious divide in search of profit, and the mercenaries who cheerfully served ostensible religious rivals for pay – who were flexible and pragmatic. It is becoming increasingly clear that the norms and discourses of medieval Islam and Christianity themselves were more permeable and less fixed around ideologies of absolute religious difference than we previously believed. The result was that when al-Mustansir of Tunis acted pragmatically to save his city and his subjects, he did not have to violate the legal and religious norms of his day to do it. About the author: Michael Lower, University of Minnesota

74 C. Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic perspectives (New York, 2000), 89–161. 75 Wadad al-Qadi, ‘Non-Muslims in the Muslim Army in Early Islam: a case study in the dialogue of the sources’, in Conference on Orientalism: a dialogue of culture, ed. S.A. Khasawnih (Amman, 2004), 109–59. 76 K.A. Miller, ‘Muslim Minorities and the Obligation to Emigrate to Islamic Territory: two fatwas from fifteenth-century Granada’, Islamic Law and Society, 7 (2000), 256–88.

Index Abbasid(s): 229, 233–6, 238 ʿAbd al-Rahman al-Awzaʿi, Umayyad jurist: 233, 239 ʿAbd al-Rahman b. Khaldun, Maliki jurist: 236 n. 44, 244, 244 n. 72 Abraham, patriarch: 165–66, 171 Abu ʿAbd-Allah al-Mustansir, emir of Tunis: 225, 241–45 Abu Bakr b. Masud al-Kasani, Hanafi jurist: 231–32, 235–36, 239 Abu Zakariya, Hafsid ruler of Tunisia: 241–42 Acre bishop and bishopric of: 131–35, 135 n.16, 137–39, 141, 144, 146–47, 147 n. 85, 148–52, 154, 174, 195 city of: 99, 104–5, 105 n. 39, 107–10, 112, 114–15, 131-35, 135 n. 16, 137–39, 141–42, 144, 146–52, 154, 163 n. 23, 169, 174 see also Jacques de Vitry Adam of Perseigne, Cistercian abbot: 121 Adémar of Chabannes, monk: 25, 25 nn. 11–13, 27 n. 17, 36–37, 37 nn. 61–62 and 65, 38 n. 66, 42 Chronicon (Chronique): 25, 25 nn. 11–13, 36–37, 37 nn. 61–62 Sermones tres: 37, 37 n. 65 Translatio beati Martialis de Monte Gaudio: 37, 37 n. 65 Ad liberandam: 141, 153 Adso of Montier-en-Der, abbot: 84–86 Life of Antichrist 84–86, 86 n. 16 Albert of Aachen, canon of Aix-la-Chapelle: 90–91 Historia Ierosolimitana: 90, 90 n. 36, 91 nn. 39 and 41, 93 n. 48 Ai, city of: 141, 164–66 Aimery, patriarch of Jerusalem: 67–68, 70–71, 123; see also Jerusalem, patriarchs of Al-ʿᾹdil I, Ayyubid sultan of Egypt: 120; see also Saphadin Alain de Lille, master and Cistercian monk: 56 Summa de arte praedicatoria: 56 Alarcos, battle of: 119–20, 124 Albertanus of Brescia: 14, 23 Albigensian crusade: 16, 135, 148, 164, 164 n. 24, 165–69, 189–91, 216; see also Arnaud–Amaury; Cistercians; Fulk, bishop of Toulouse; Hélinand of Froidmont; heresy; heretics; Louis VIII; Philip the Chancellor; Odo of Châteauroux; Simon of Montfort Alexandria, city of: 16, 97, 99–116, 141, 159, 201 Alexius I Comnenus, Byzantine emperor: 101–02 Alexius III Angelus, Byzantine emperor: 15 n. 14, 114–15, 122 Alfonso VIII, king of Castile: 119

Al-Hasan b. Ziyad al-Luʾluʾi, Abbasid jurist: 233-34 Alice of Montfort: 191, 191 n. 107 Al-Kamil, Ayyubid sultan of Egypt: 14, 145, 171 Almoravid(s): 236–38 alms/almsgiving: 57, 155, 157, 161, 163, 165, 167, 169, 173, 176, 178–81, 179 n. 68, 184, 186–90, 187 n. 93, 191 n. 107, 192–93 Amalek, kingdom of: 165, 170, 176–77, 179–80 Amalfi, city of: 91, 99, 105 n. 39 Amalrich II, king of Jerusalem: 120 Amaury I, king of Jerusalem: 103–5, 111 Ambroise: see Estoire de la guerre sainte anathema: 33–34, 36, 126, 150 Antichrist: 43 n. 89, 81, 84–86, 89, 96 Antioch, city of: 86, 88–9, 88 n. 26, 95, 95 n. 54, 100–03, 149, 152, 154 n. 118, 207 Apocalypticism: 26, 28, 37 n. 62, 43 n. 89, 84–85; see also Antichrist Aragon, kingdom of: 226–27, 239–41 arengae, in papal letters: 15, 63–78, 123 Armenians: 81, 89; see also Eastern Christians Arnaud–Amaury, Cistercian abbot of Cîteaux: 49 n. 20, 51 n. 33, 52 n. 35, 59, 189; see also Cîteaux Ascension Day: 158, 158 n. 6, 159, 169, 172, 174 n. 48, 181, 186, 188 n. 95 Audita tremendi: 72, 78, 119–20, 124, 172 Augustine: 55–56 Baghdad, city of: 100, 233 Baldric of Dol: see Baudry of Bourgueil Baldwin I, king of Jerusalem: 81, 89–93, 94–96 Baldwin II, king of Jerusalem: 100 Baldwin III, king of Jerusalem: 101 n. 8, 103, 106 Baldwin IV, king of Jerusalem: 107, 112 Baldwin IX, count of Flanders/Hainaut: 125, 127, 127 n. 25, 128–29 Basil of Caesarea: 57, 58 Baudry of Bourgueil: 86 Historia Jerosolimitana: 86, 86 n. 17 bear, dancing: 91–92, 91 nn. 39-40, 92 n. 44 Beguines: 137, 152, 190 n. 103; see also Christina Mirabilis; Lutgard of Aywières; Marie d’Oignies; mulieres sanctae Bernard, abbot of Clairvaux, saint: 52, 118, 121, 121 n. 8, 123 Bernardo Maragone: 98 Gli annales Pisani: 98, 100 n. 6, 104 n. 32 Blanche of Castile, queen of France: 204 n. 27, 221, 221 n. 49 Boniface, marquis of Montferrat: 213, 215 Byzantium, empire of: 16, 89, 98–115, 122, 211–24; see also Alexius I Comnenus; Alexius III Angelus; Constantinople; Fourth Crusade; Greeks; Isaac II Comnenus; John

248 Index II Comnenus; Manuel I Comnenus; Latin Empire of Constantinople Capetians: 21, 24, 25, 38, 207 Carolingians: 21, 24–27, 30–31, 42–43, 169–70 Celestine III, pope: 67–70, 128 celibacy, clerical: 27, 40–41, 165 Charles of Anjou: 241–43 Charroux, council of: 22, 27 n. 18, 32–37, 40 Children’s Crusade: 161 Christ, imitation of: 27, 120, 166 Christina Mirabilis: 190 Cistercians: 48, 51, 51 n. 33, 54, 121, 121 n. 8, 125, 138, 158 n. 6, 164 n. 25; 176 n. 56, 180 n. 73, 186, 189–91; see also Adam of Perseigne; Alain de Lille; Arnaud–Amaury, abbot of Cîteaux; Bernard of Clairvaux; Cîteaux; Conrad of Urach; Fulk, bishop of Toulouse; Guy, abbot of Vaux-de-Cernay; Hélinand of Froidmont; Lutgard of Aywières Cîteaux, Cistercian monastery of: 48, 49 n. 20, 51, 59, 125; see also Arnaud–Amaury, abbot of Cîteaux clamour: 156, 156 n. 2, 159, 171, 172, 172 n. 41, 173, 175–77, 182–85, 189; see also litanies; liturgy; prayer, psalms; rogations Cluniac reform: 22, 28–29, 34–35, 38, 41, 43, 43 n. 91 Conrad, marquis of Montferrat: 108–12, 114 Constantinople, city of: 15, 15 n. 10, 16, 98, 99–101, 103–7, 109, 112–15, 160, 164, 219 n. 42, 222; see also Fourth Crusade; Greeks; Latin empire of Constantinople Corpus Christi: 181, see also Eucharist, host, Masses councils: 21–44, 49, 76–77, 106, 118, 122, 125–26, 135, 141, 143, 147, 153, 179, 208–9, 213, 217, 217 n. 32, 218, 220; see also Charroux; Ferentino; Laprade; Limoges; Fourth Lateran Council; Poitiers; Third Lateran Council Credo: 172–74 Daimbert, patriarch of Jerusalem: 100–101 Damascus, city of: 83, 90, 100, 235 Damietta, city of: 15–16, 23, 77, 133, 139–47, 154, 159, 166, 169–73, 182, 195–210, 218–19 dar al-harb: 227–29, 238, 244 dar al-Islam: 227–30, 244 David, king: 144–45; see also Prester John Deeds of Pope Innocent III: see Gesta Innocentii Tercii Demetrius of Montferrat: 215, 217, 217 n. 31, 218 n. 32, 222, 222 n. 56 dhimmi: 228–33 Dominicans: 13, 47, 49, 51–52, 53 n. 42, 135 n. 15 Eastern Christians: 81, 89, 93 nn. 46–47, 147; see also Armenians, Jacobites, Syrians Edessa, crusader state of: 89, 91, 95

Egypt: 14, 16, 76 n. 42, 92, 94, 97–99, 102–16, 129–30, 139–47, 163, 170–74, 177, 195-210, 215–16, 219; see also Alexandria; Damietta; Fifth Crusade; Frederick II; Louis IX; Seventh Crusade Eli, priest: 187, 187 n. 91 Ernoul, chronicle of: 135, 143, 146 Estoire de la guerre sainte: 98, 109, 110 n. 71 Eucharist: 188 n. 95, 156 n. 1, 180, 185–86; see also corpus Christi; Host; Mass Eudes of Châteauroux: see Odo of Châteauroux Eustorgius, archbishop of Nicosia: 145, 147 excommunication: 21, 33, 36, 39–42, 106, 126, 129, 144, 150, 164, 173, 190, 215, 215 n. 12, 218, 218 n. 36, 221 fasting: 143, 156–58, 160–63, 166–67, 169–82, 184, 186–87, 190, 192–93 Ferentino, council of: 76–77, 147, 217, 217 n. 32, 218, 220 Fifth Crusade: 14, 16, 23, 46, 60 n. 69, 64 n. 2, 68–71, 74–78, 131-224 First Crusade: 16, 30 n. 31, 81, 83–90, 95, 99–100, 124, 157 n. 5, 159, 165, 169–70, 207 Flodoard of Reims, annalist: 25–26 florilegia: 45, 55 n. 47, 57; see also Liber scintillarum fondaco/fondaci: 102, 105 n.44, 115 Fourth Crusade: 15, 15 n. 14, 71–74, 98, 101 n. 14, 106 n. 43, 115, 115 n. 107, 117–30, 212, 215, 220; see also Byzantium; Constantinople; Greeks; Latin Empire of Constantinople Fourth Lateran Council: 47 n. 6, 49, 60 n. 68, 135, 139 n. 33, 141, 141 n. 44, 153, 154 n. 118, 179, 213; see also Ad liberandam; Vineam Domini Francis of Assisi: 14, 23 Franciscans: 13, 133, 133 n. 10 Frederick Barbarossa, emperor: 103, 114, 119, 213, 214 n. 11 Frederick II, emperor: 13, 14, 16, 64 n. 2, 76–77, 97 n. 1, 112, 120 n. 7, 122, 145, 147–50, 211–24, 241–42 Fulcher of Chartres: 88–89, 91, 94–96, 169 Historia Hierosolymitana: 88–89, 88 nn. 24, 26–28, 91 nn. 37, 39, 41, 94–96, 94–96 nn. 52–55, 58, 169 Fulk, bishop of Toulouse: 189–91, 191 n. 106 Fulk Nerra of Anjou: 26, 38 Fulk of Neuilly: 121, 125, 125 n. 19, 156, 159 Genoa, city of: 90, 98–100, 102, 102 n. 19, 103 n. 30, 105 n. 39, 106, 108, 116, 138, 140, 213, 240, 241 n. 59; see also Genoese Genoese: 90, 96, 98, 102–4, 110–15, 144, 147, 221, 227, 241; see also Genoa, city of Geoffrey of Beaulieu: 206 Vita Ludovici Noni: 206 n. 34 Geoffrey of Villehardouin, chronicler: 125–27, 129 George, saint: 159, 159 n. 9, 172

Index

Gervase of Chichester, abbot of Prémontré: 137, 191, 191 nn. 107–09 Gesta Innocentii Tercii: 68, 68 n. 18, 118 n. 1, 122–23, 126 n. 23, 127 n. 25, 128, 128 nn. 26–27, 129; see also Innocent III Gilbert of Poitiers: 172, 184–85 Commentary on the Psalms: 172 n. 41, 184–85, 185 nn. 85–86 Godfrey of Bouillon, king of Jerusalem: 85, 91, 91 n. 40, 100 Graves orientalis: 73–75, 77, 123 Greek(s): 89, 93, 107, 211–12, 218–19; see also Byzantium; Constantinople; Fourth Crusade Gregorian reform: 27–28, 27 n. 18, 40; see also Cluniac reform; reform, monastic; reform, moral Gregory I (the Great), pope: 45, 47 n. 4, 49 n. 20, 51, 52 n. 39, 54, 56, 56 n. 52, 56 n. 55, 57, 57 n. 55, 58, 58 nn. 59-60, 158, 160, 179 n. 69, 186, 197 n. 3 Gregory VIII, pope: 72, 78, 119, 156; see also Audita tremendi Gregory IX, pope: 15, 45, 65 n. 6, 137, 147, 151, 151 n. 106, 152, 152 n. 114, 174, 211, 216, 223; see also Ugolino dei Conti Guibert de Nogent, monk and chronicler: 89–94 Dei gesta per Francos: 89–90, 90 nn. 32–33, 91, 91 nn. 39–41, 92, 92 nn. 43–44, 93–94, 94 nn. 49–51 Gui of Melun, letter of: 204, 204 n. 27 Guy, abbot of Vaux-de-Cernay, Cistercian monk: 159, 189 Guy, count of Anjou and bishop of Le Puy: 29–30 Guy of Lusignan, king of Jerusalem: 109–11 Hafsid(s): 226–27, 239–43 harbi: 228, 232 Hattin, battle of: 78, 81, 83, 107, 112, 115–16, 119–20, 169, 177, 184, 186 Hélinand of Froidmont, Cistercian monk: 158 n. 6, 164, 176, 180, 183 Henry, count of Champagne, king of Jerusalem: 110–14 Henry II, king of England: 83 n. 5, 119 Henry VI, emperor: 70, 119, 213 Heraclius, patriarch of Jerusalem: 82–84, 93 heresy: 27, 43 n. 89, 119, 155, 164, 167–68, 180, 185, 187, 191, 216; see also Albigensian crusade; Eastern Christians; heretics; schismatics heretics: 43 n. 89, 86, 89, 163–64, 166–68, 175–76, 180, 183–84, 189–91, 218–19; see also Albigensian crusade; Eastern Christians; heresy; schismatics Holy Sepulchre: 90, 90 n. 35, 96, 164, 180–81, 207 Honorius III, pope: 14–16, 45–80, 132–224 Crusade of William VI of Montferrat and: 15, 211–24 Fifth Crusade and: 14–16, 131–224

249 Frederick II and: 13, 14–16, 64 n. 2, 76–77, 97 n. 1, 112, 120 n. 7, 122, 145, 147–50, 211–24, 241–42 papal correspondence: 14–15, 63–80, 132-54, 211–24; see also Iustus Dominus in peace and: 14, 15–16 reform and: 14, 15–16, 132–93 sermons of: 15, 45–62 Hospitallers: 68, 124, 147, 149; see also military orders Host, consecrated: 191 n. 107, 173, 174, 178, 181; see also corpus Christi; Eucharist; Mass hostages: 21, 25, 30, 32, 40–41, 146 Hubert Walter, archbishop of Canterbury: 125–26, 128-29, 128 nn. 27-28, 181, 181 n. 75 Hugh Capet, king of France: 25, 38 Hugues of Pierrepont, bishop of Liège: 138, 151 Ibn Abi Zayd al-Qarawani, Maliki jurist: 237–38, 238 n. 50, 239 Ibn Rushd (Averroës), Maliki jurist and philosopher: 238–39, 244 Ibn Wasil, Muslim historian: 204 imitatio Christi: see Christ, imitation of indulgences: 121, 128, 128 n. 27, 164, 173, 191 n. 107, 192, 192–3 nn. 110–11, 212, 218 n. 36, 219, 220 n. 46 Innocent III, pope death of: 132 Fifth Crusade and: 74–78, 131–94; see also Fourth Lateran Council; Quia maior Fourth Crusade and: 15, 71–74, 117–130, 156, 158–59; see also Graves orientalis; Post miserabile moral reform and: 14–15, 117–122, 130, 132–93; see also Fourth Lateran Council papal correspondence: 63–80, 117–130; see also Graves orientalis; Iustus et misericors; Post miserabile; Quia maior; Vineam Domini peace and: 14–15 sermons of: 15, 45–62 see also Gesta Innocentii Tercii interdict: 21, 42, 126, 129, 129 n. 29 Isaac II, Byzantine emperor: 101 n. 10, 113–15 Isabella, queen of Jerusalem: 110 Isabelle of Brienne: 148–50 Isidore of Seville: 57–58 Islamic law: 225–45; see also jurists, Islamic Italian communes: 13, 23, 97–116, 144; see also Amalfi; Genoa; Genoese; Italy; Lombard League; Pisa; Pisans; Venice; Venetians Italy: 14, 16, 97–116, 125, 211, 214 n. 8, 216 n. 21, 217, 217 n. 31, 218; see also Amalfi; Genoa; Genoese; Italian communes; Lombard League; Pisa; Pisans; Venice; Venetians Iustus Dominus in: 70, 76–78 Iustus et misericors: 128–29

250 Index Jacobites: 89, 93 n. 46, 147; see also Eastern Christians; Syrians Jacques de Vitry: 16, 131–54, 161–62, 166, 170–73, 175, 183, 186–87, 190-91, 195–96, 198–202, 209 Historia Occidentalis: 133, 134 n. 13, 186, 187 n. 92 Historia Orientalis: 133, 134 n. 13, 145, 145 n. 73, 149, 187 n. 92 letters of: 131–54, 166 n. 29, 170 nn. 37–38, 171 n. 29, 172 n. 41, 173, 173 n. 44, 195–96, 198–202, 209 sermons of: 126 n. 21, 133, 134 n. 13, 135 n. 15, 147 n. 87, 148–49, 148 n. 89, 149 n. 92, 161 n. 18, 162 n. 20, 166 n. 29, 175 n. 49, 183 n. 81 Vita Mariae Oigniacensis: 147 n. 87, 190–91, 191 n. 106 James of Vitry: see Jacques de Vitry Jean de Joinville: 159, 206–07 Life of Saint Louis: 159, 159 n. 10, 206–07, 206 n. 32, 207 n. 34 Jean Sarrasin, letter of: 203, 203 n. 23 Jericho, city of: 165, 170, 177 Jerusalem: city of: 28, 60 n. 69, 72, 82–88, 90–91, 94, 94 n. 51, 120, 156, 161, 164, 175, 180–85, 187, 198, 206–07, 207 n. 35; see also Holy Sepulchre Latin kingdom of: 16, 63–210, 224 n. 65, 235, 236 n. 38; see also Outremer Latin patriarch of: 67–68, 68, 70–71, 82, 100, 123, 143, 146–48, 151 n. 106, 153, 169, 170, 173; see also Aimery; Daimbert; Heraclius; Raoul king of: 68, 81, 85, 89–93, 94–96, 100, 101 n. 8, 103, 106, 107, 108–12, 114, 120, 191, 191 n. 108, 199; see also Amaury I; Amalrich II; Baldwin I; Baldwin II; Baldwin III; Baldwin IV; Conrad, marquis of Montferrat; Godfrey of Bouillon; Guy of Lusignan; Henry, count of Champagne; John of Brienne jihad: 82, 227, 235–36, 245 jizya: 225, 228–29, 229 n. 9, 230–34, 237–38, 238 n. 50; see also kharja; poll tax John Beleth: 156, 164 Summa de ecclesiasticis officiis: 156, 157, n. 3, 158 n. 6, 161 n. 17, 162 nn. 20–21, 164, 164 n. 25, 178 n. 64, 183 n. 79, 183 n. 81, 186 n. 88 John of Abbeville, master: 184 John of Brienne, king of Jerusalem: 68, 191, 191 n. 108, 199 John II Comnenus, Byzantine emperor: 101, 103 n. 29 Joshua: 163, 165–70, 177, 179 jurists, Islamic: 225–45 Abbasid school of: 229–30, 233–36 Hanafi school of: 229–32, 234–39 Maliki school of: 236–38, 244

Umayyad school of: 233–36, 239 See also jihad; jizya; kharaj; poll tax; tribute kharaj: 225, 229 n. 9, 231; see also jizya. Lambert of Saint-Omer: 85, 96 Liber floridus: 85, 85 nn. 12–13, 96 Laprade, council of: 22, 29–32 Las Navas de Tolosa, battle of: 160, 163, 226 n. 1 Latin Empire of Constantinople: 211–24; see also Byzantium; Constantinople; Fourth Crusade; Greeks; Peter of Courtenay Les Grandes Chroniques: 208 Letaldus of Micy: 32–34 Delatio corporis s. Juniani: 32–34 Liber scintillarum: 45, 57–58 Limoges, council of: 22, 28 n. 24, 36–39 litanies: 155–94; see also clamour; liturgy; prayer; psalms; rogations liturgy: 155–94; see also clamour; litanies; prayer; psalms; rogations Lombard League: 150, 152, 213; see also Italian communes Lotario dei Conti dei Segni, cardinal: 118 n. 1, 119–20; see also Innocent III Louis of Blois, count: 125, 127, 127 n. 25, 128, 129 Louis VII, king of France: 83 Louis VIII, king of France: 164, 166–68 Louis IX, king of France: 120 n. 7, 159, 195–96, 203–09 first crusade of: 16, 159, 195–96, 203–09; see also Seventh Crusade second crusade of: 225, 242–44 Lutgard of Aywières, Cistercian abbess: 138, 152, 190, 190 n. 104, 198 Lutgard of St Trond: see Lutgard of Aywières Mahumeth: 90–91 Manuel I Comnenus, Byzantine emperor: 103–04 Marie d’Oignies: 147, 147 n. 87, 151 n 103, 152, 152 n. 111, 190–91, 190–191 n. 106; see also Beguines; mulieres sanctae Mark, saint: 159, 159 n. 9 Mary Magdalene: 52 n. 39, 59 n. 66, 188 Mary, Virgin: 163, 166–67, 181, 190, 196, 197 n. 5, 200–02, 201 n. 19 Masses, celebration of: 27, 33, 41, 41 n. 79, 139, 156, 156 n. 1, 162, 168, 169, 174–81, 189, 190, 191 nn. 107–08, 192, 204; see also corpus Christi, Eucharist, host massacres: 86–87, 94, 107, 115 mendicant orders: 13–14; see Dominicans; Franciscans military orders: 13, 121, 140, 147, 148, 149 n. 92, 164, 169, 220; see also Hospitallers; Templars militia Christi: 192, 193 n. 112 miracles: 22, 28, 32, 34, 37, 120, 174, 202 missions: 14, 136–39, 197

251

Index

Moses: 163, 165, 167, 170, 172, 174, 176–77, 179, 179 n. 68, 180, 191 Muhammad, prophet: 85, 94, 196, 198, 204, 228-29, 235, 239; see also Qur’an Muhammad b. al-Hasan al-Shaybani, Hanafi jurist: 232, 234, 239 Muhammad b. Idris al-Shafiʿi, Abbasid jurist: 229–30, 230 n. 13, 234–36 mulieres sanctae: 137, 152, 190 nn. 103–05; see also Beguines; Christina Mirabilis; Marie d’Oignies; Lutgard of Aywières muwadaʿa: 229–32, 234–35, 243 Ninevites: 158, 160, 163, 170, 180 Nivelon, bishop of Soissons: 158–60, 160 n. 20 oaths: 21–22, 29, 30, 32, 38, 41–42, 128, 204, 219 n. 42 Odo of Cheriton, master: 162, 175, 178–80, 182 Odo of Châteauroux, OFM and papal legate: 165, 168, 204 Oliver of Paderborn, master: 126 n. 21, 139 n. 33, 140–43, 163, 166, 169-71, 174, 178, 182, 196, 198, 200–02, 209 Historia Damiatina: 141 n. 44, 166 n. 29, 170 nn. 37–38, 171 nn. 39–40, 173 n. 44, 200 n. 17, 201 n. 18, 216 n. 25, 217 n. 30 Historia de ortu Jerusalem: 166 n. 29 Historia regum Terre Sancta: 169 n. 36 letters: 140–41, 163 n. 22 Otto IV of Brunswick: 213 Outremer: 16, 81–83, 89, 93, 131, 133, 136, 147, 150, 187; see also Jerusalem, Latin kingdom of Pactum Warmundi: 100, 108 papal correspondence: see arengae; Ad liberandam; Graves orientalis; Honorius III; Innocent III; Iustus Dominus in; Iustus et misericors; Post miserabile; Quantum praedecessores; Quia maior; Vineam Domini Paris, schools of: 50, 55–56, 56 n. 50, 117, 120–21, 123, 125, 134, 136, 138, 142, 153–93 Paternoster: 161, 173–75, 179, 181 peace: 14, 16, 21–44, 82, 160, 168, 174–75, 180–81, 183, 198, 216, 225, 228–45 Peace of God: 14, 21–44 peccatis exigentibus: 73 n. 34, 121, 185–87, 187 n. 92 Pelagius, cardinal and papal legate: 141–44, 146, 146 n. 80, 147–48, 166, 171–74, 182, 196, 216 n. 24 Peter, archbishop of Caesarea: 144, 146, 148–50 Peter Lombard, master: 158, 158 nn. 6–7, 179, 179 n. 70, 180, 180 n. 72, 182, 182 n. 77 Peter of Courtenay, Latin emperor of Constantinople: 215, 215 n. 14 Peter of Roissy, master: 156, 156 n. 3, 158 n. 6 Manuale de mysteriis ecclesiae: 156 n. 3, 158 n. 6

Peter the Chanter, master: 134, 142, 164, 179, 184–85, 187, 192 n. 110 Commentary on Daniel: 172 n. 41 Commentary on Ezekiel: 179 n. 70 Commentary on the Psalms: 185 n. 85 Petrus Capuanus, cardinal: 124, 127–28, 156 Philip Augustus, king of France: 72, 75 Philip the Chancellor, master: 165–68, 177, 180–81, 188–89, 190 Philip III, king of France: 243 Philippe Mousket: 147–48 Chronique rimee: 147–48 pilgrims: 28, 38, 42, 82, 84, 86, 91, 93, 106, 109, 113, 129, 143, 160–61, 161 n. 18, 166, 166 n. 29, 178 Pisa, city of: 16, 97–116; see also Pisans Pisans: 16, 97–116, 144, 147; see also Pisa poll tax: 229; see also jizya Poitiers, council of: 22, 39–41 Post miserabile: 71, 71 n. 26, 73–78, 123–24, 123 n. 15, 172 Praemonstratensians: 137, 189, 191, 191 nn. 107–09; see also Gervase of Chichester prayers: 16, 27, 55, 105 n. 44, 139, 143, 155-93, 201, 232; see also clamour; litanies; liturgy; psalms; rogations preaching: 13–14, 16, 31, 45–61, 86, 117, 120–21, 124–28, 131–40, 143, 145, 148, 150, 152–93; see also sermons Prester John: 144–45; see also King David processions: 16, 22, 28, 37, 143, 155–93, 196, 201, 204, 204 n. 27 prostitutes: 102, 166, 173, 192 psalms: 57, 59, 68, 68 n. 20, 72, 76, 159, 161, 162 n. 20, 167–68, 168 n. 32, 169–72, 172 nn. 41–42, 173, 175, 175 n. 54, 176 n. 57, 180, 182, 183 n. 79, 184, 184 n. 83, 185, 185, nn. 85–86, 198 Quantum praedecessores: 124 Quia maior: 74–77, 162 Qu’ran: 85, 228, 232, 236–37; see also Muhammad Radulfus Niger, English cleric: 82–84, 83 n. 5, 93 De re militari: 82–83 Rainier, bishop of Bethlehem: 143–44, 147 Raoul, patriarch of Jerusalem: 68, 141, 143, 144 n. 68, 146–48, 169–70, 171, 173; see also Jerusalem, patriarchs of Raoul Glaber, monk: 25, 43 Historiarum: 25, nn. 11-13, 43 n. 90. reform, monastic: 22, 27–43; see also Cluniac reform; reform, moral reform, moral: 14, 16, 117–30, 132, 134, 135–36, 139, 142, 153–54, 155–93; see also Cluniac reform; reform, monastic relics: 21, 22–23, 25, 27–28, 32–33, 36–37, 41–43, 147, 160, 163, 169, 169–71, 173, 174, 177, 189; see also saints; True Cross

252 Index Revelations of Pseudo-Methodius: 84 Richard de Templo Itinerarium peregrinorum et gesta regis Ricardi: 98, 109 Richard I, king of England: 107, 110, 110 n. 74, 111, 113, 119 Richard of San Germano Chronica: 142 n. 55, 212 n. 2, 214 n. 7, 215 n. 14, 218 n. 33, 222 n. 56, 222 n. 61, 223 n. 62 Richer of Saint-Remi: 25 Histories: 25 n. 11, 25 n. 13, 26 n. 15, 38 n. 69 Robert de Courson, cardinal: 136, 136 n. 24, 137, 140, 142–43, 153, 178, 182 rogations: 155, 158–59, 164–65, 172, 174 nn. 47–48, 175 n. 49, 176–78, 180–81, 183, 185, 187–89, 192; see also clamour; litanies; prayer; psalms Roger of Howden Chronica: 69 n. 22, 98, 110 n. 74, 123, 129, 129 n. 29 Saint-Martial, monastery of: 35–37 saints: 22, 25, 28, 28 n. 22, 34, 36, 42, 55, 57, 60, 85, 120, 121, 158, 160, 168, 169, 172, 174–75, 183, 185, 189–90, 192, 202, 206; see also litanies; relics Saint-Victor, canonry of: 158–59, 160 n. 11, 164 n. 26, 166, 182 Saladin, Ayyubid sultan of Syria and Egypt: 83, 105, 105 n. 44, 106–09, 111, 116, 120, 177, 185, 190 Santa Maria Maggiore, church of: 48, 49, 51, 53, 53 n. 41, 59, 61 Saphadin, Ayyubid sultan of Egypt: 120; see also al-ʿᾹdil I schismatics: 93, 122, 175, 184, 212; see also Byzantium; Eastern Christians; Greeks; heresy; heretics Second Crusade: 83, 121, 121 n. 8, 213, 214 sermons: 13–14, 16, 31, 45–61, 63–64, 78, 86, 117–18, 120–21, 124–28, 131–40, 143, 145, 148–50, 152–93; see also preaching Seventh Crusade: 16, 159, 195–96, 203–09; see also Louis IX, first crusade of Shams al-Aʾimma al-Sarakhsi, Hanafi jurist: 230–31, 230–31 nn. 15–19, 234–35, 234–35, nn. 31-34, 239 Sicard of Cremona: 156, 156 n. 2, 156–57 n. 3, 158 n. 6, 161 n. 17, 162 nn. 20–21, 164, 177 Mitrale: 156–57 n. 3, 158 n. 6, 161 n. 17, 162 n. 21, 164 n. 25, 176 n. 55, 176 nn. 57–58, 177 n. 61, 178 n. 63, 183 n. 81 Sicily, kingdom of: 16, 97, 103, 119, 123, 213, 220, 226, 241–43 Simon of Montfort: 160, 190–91, 191 n. 107 simony: 27, 40, 184, 187 Sixth Crusade: see Frederick II Stephen Langton: 50, 52 Commentary on Exodus: 166 n. 29, 184 n. 83

Glossa in Biblia: 187 n. 91 sermons: 50, 52 Sufyan al-Thawri, Umayyad jurist: 233 Syrians: 89, 93, 93 n. 47, 147; see also Eastern Christians; Jacobites taxes: 32, 101, 103, 105, 106, 108–10, 112–14, 229, 236–37, 240 for the crusade: 124, 166–67, 219, 220 n. 45, 221 Templars: 68, 81, 83, 112, 124, 144 n. 68, 148–49; see also military orders Theodore Comnenus Ducas, ruler of Epirus: 218, 222, 222 n. 56, 223 n. 64 Thessalonica, kingdom of: 214–15, 215 n. 12, 217–18, 218 n. 36, 221, 221 n. 52 Thibaut, count of Champagne/Brie: 117, 125, 127, 127 n. 25, 129 Third Crusade: 70, 72, 102, 107, 113, 119–20, 122 Third Lateran Council: 106, 126 Thomas of Cantimpré: 147–48, 151 Supplementum ad Vitam Mariae Oignacensis: 134 n. 13, 147–48, 151 Vita de Sancte Christina Mirabili Virgine: 190 n. 105 Vita Lutgardis virginae: 190 n. 104 tournaments: 117, 125–26, 126 n. 21, 128 n. 27, 178 trade, Christian–Muslim: 97–116, 240 treaties: 16, 25, 100–01 n. 8, 101, 105–06, 112, 114, 146, 225–45 tribute: 16, 225–45; see also poll tax True Cross, relics of: 32, 90 n. 35, 143, 169–71, 174, 177, 184, 186, 190 Tunis Crusade of Louis IX: 225, 242–44; see also Louis IX Tunis/Tunisia: 225-245 Tyre, city of: 88, 100–01, 103, 105, 105 n. 39, 107–09, 111–13, 147–48, 152 n. 109 Ugolino dei Conti, cardinal: 147, 152, 216–17, 216 nn. 20–21, 24, 217 n. 26, 219, 221, 223 n. 63; see also Gregory IX Umayyad(s): 232–33, 237 Urban II, pope: 89 Urban III, pope: 119 Usama ibn Munqidh: 93 usurers/usury: 176, 179, 181–2, 184–85, 187, 187 n. 93, 188–89, 192 Venice, city of: 99–101, 105 n. 39, 106, 108, 115–16, 129, 140, 149, 151–52, 152 n. 109, 221; see also Venetians Venetians: 98, 100, 102–04, 108, 113–15, 117, 127, 127 n. 25, 128, 141, 144, 149; see also Venice, city of Villehardouin: see Geoffrey of Villehardouin Vineam Domini: 122; see also Fourth Lateran Council

253

Index

vow, crusading: 119-20, 124–26, 128, 128 n. 27, 129, 136–38, 164, 167–69, 179, 192, 192, n. 111, 193, 204, 211, 214, 214 n. 11, 215–18, 219 n. 37, 220 n. 46, 223 William IV, Iron Arm, count of Poitou and duke of Aquitaine: 26, 32, 34–36, 35 n. 56 William V, count of Poitou and duke of Aquitaine: 35–42, 35 n. 56 William VI, count of Montferrat: 211-24 William of Tyre: 88, 96, 98, 107–08, 111, 118, 169, 207

Chronicon: 91 n. 38 women: 29, 38, 40, 72, 93, 102, 110, 139, 152, 165–67, 173, 184, 191–92, 215; see also Alice of Montfort; Beguines; Blanche of Castile; Christina mirabilis; Isabella, queen of Jerusalem; Isabelle of Brienne; Lutgard of Aywières; Marie d’Oignies; Mary Magdalene; Mary, Virgin; mulieres sanctae; prostitutes Yusuf b. Tashfin, Almoravid ruler: 236–37