"It is my intention in the present work to write down a story whose frightfulness would be enough, indeed more than enough, either to make it completely unbelievable or at any rate to cast suspicion upon its reliability, were it not...Sicily....Some of these events I saw myself, and others I learnt about from trustworthy accounts..." (pp. 55-56). Thus "Hugo Falcandus" begins his history of Sicily during the reign of King William I (1154-66) and the early years of William II (1166-89). The reader quickly recognizes that what follows will be merciless. This is a disgruntled courtier's act of revenge, part of the grand tradition of righteous indignation, wronged innocence, and special pleading that has produced Tacitus' Annals, Procopius' Secret History and, more recently, Primary Colors.
The translation reviewed here was produced by Graham Loud, a historian, and Thomas Wiedemann, a classicist, a collaboration inspired by the lack of English translations of sources for the Norman Kingdom of Sicily and by the literary merits of the work itself (p. vii). The project was especially challenging because the author's Latin style is unusually classical, subtly allusive, arch, perhaps to some extent self parodying. Loud and Wiedemann have resisted any temptation to turn him into a Norman Oscar Wilde. They present a competent, toned down, relatively literal text.
In the introduction they discuss the historical background, the vexed question of the author's identity, classical resonances, the manuscript tradition, and some translation problems (pp. 1- 53). They present the History together with valuable annotations (pp. 55-218). They append translated sections from the principal alternative contemporary accounts: Romuald of Salerno's Chronicon (pp. 219-43); Boso's Life of Pope Hadrian IV (pp. 243-47); the text of the 1156 Treaty of Benevento (pp. 248-52); and a "Letter concerning the Sicilian Tragedy" whose style, interests, and manuscript tradition suggest composition by the author of the History himself (pp. 252-63). Useful supporting tools include maps of southern Italy and Palermo, five genealogical charts, and a concise bibliography of the major related sources and studies.
Who was the author? The name "Hugo Falcandus" is attested neither in Norman court records nor in the History's manuscripts. It appears for the first time in the Paris editio princeps of 1550. Loud and Wiedemann cite approvingly Evelyn Jamison's conjecture that it is an artifact created by the first editor's misreading of something written on the "rotten binding" about which he complains (p. 28). The author's claim to be a contemporary of the events he describes has been generally accepted not only because he knows the royal court's personnel, offices, and laws so well, but also because he views them so passionately. Contemporaneity is supported by the manuscript tradition, which includes Vatican lat. 10690, a copy from the early 13th century, which itself appears to be well removed from the original. Based on the absence of foreshadowing of any later events, Loud and Wiedemann place the History prior to the death of William II in 1189. But who was Pseudo-Hugo? The translators analyze the cases advanced for the two principal candidates--Robert of San Giovanni (d. prior to 1185) and Eugenius (perhaps still alive in 1202), the son of John the Emir--and find both "very unlikely." They presume that the mystery must remain unsolved, that the author "was probably a member of the court, but perhaps only a minor functionary, possibly someone whose name is entirely unknown to the historical record, or mentioned just in passing in one or two charters" (pp. 28-42, esp. P. 40).
More might be said. The author is placed within the court by his likes and dislikes: in his description of King Roger, "this wisest of kings," he reveals a concept of consultative monarchy that helps explain his opposition to the overmighty ministers he later vilifies (p. 57). He positions himself within the court factions by the way he hates Maio of Bari but tolerates Stephen of Perche. He may reveal even more. In a digression from his account of events around 1166, he gives an otherwise unparalleled source acknowledgement, contained in an anecdote which is poorly placed and off task: There was also another incident which I think I should mention: one day the great men of the court met the cardinal [John of Naples, d. 1182?], with other magnates and bishops. Among them was someone with a reputation as a chatterbox and a witty fool; his nonsense enabled him to attack the courtiers freely and sometimes extremely woundingly, and he constantly frequented the court. After having attacked everyone with his customary verbal insults, and having made some of them laugh, he finally left the rest alone and looked at John of Naples: 'Cardinal,' he said, 'how many miles do you think it is from the city of Rome to Palermo?' When he had received the reply that it was a journey of fifteen days, he said, 'When I saw you travelling such a difficult route so often in complete safety as though you didn't mind, I used to think that we could not be more than twenty miles from the Romans. But now I understand that you ignored all these dangers because you were led on by hope of gain ....' What he said pleased those who were standing round, and was quickly broadcast among the people. It excited much hostility against the cardinal, and was turned into a proverb: 'John of Naples reckons Rome to Palermo at twenty miles' (pp. 151-52). Why does the author offer such detail about the origin of this canard? What special significance might it have had for him? Is it a coincidence that its hero, the constant courtier with the mordant wit, shares the circumstances and character of the Pseudo-Hugo? The "witty fool" may well be the author himself, unable to resist telling how he personally had delivered one of his more effective gibes. If he had anticipated circulating his work among a selected sympathetic courtly audience, people who might have been members of the assembly described above, the self deprecation would have been an inside joke, scathing to the readers as well as to the author.
The History illuminates Sicilian life. For example, it hints that the origins of Mafia brotherhoods could be sought well before the Later Middle Ages when it describes how Admiral Maio of Bari and Archbishop Hugh of Palermo, "in accordance with the Sicilians' custom, formed an alliance of blood- brotherhood, and bound themselves with a mutual oath that each would support the other in every way, and that they would be of one mind and purpose both in good and in bad circumstances; anyone who harmed one would become the enemy of both" (p. 62). The History reveals that torture was unusually common. One of the distinctions of the Latin West has been said to be torture's relative absence.[1] But here it is impossible to count the number of blindings or to keep track of the amputations of hands, tongues, and "principal limbs."[2] At court, Latin scholarship was so valued that a carpetbagging northern clergyman could be condemned as "not marked out by any knowledge of literature" (p. 163). Nevertheless, this was a highly exotic world. The working bureaucracy was dominated by the "Emir of Emirs" (the "Admiratus Admiratorum") and various eunuchs. No other court in Europe had a chief minister sail off to join the Almohads, as Caid Peter did, nor can one envision anywhere else the court reaction to this event, which was to attack Peter's enemies for treating him badly (pp. 147- 51).
The History does not, however, fully support the stereotype that Norman Sicily was completely cosmopolitan. The Pseudo-Hugo believes that the French race "excels all others in the glory of war" (p. 58); he claims that the Caid Peter would have ruled well "if the vice of his race had not cancelled out his innate peaceableness and prevented him from genuinely abandoning his hatred of Christianity" (p. 139); he describes factions that sought to neutralize "the pride of men from across the Alps" (p. 141). Of course, it is possible that the atmosphere was a little more tolerant earlier in the twelfth century: Loud and Wiedemann suggest that some of the conflicts the Pseudo-Hugo describes may have resulted from demographic changes as Sicily moved toward a new Latin Christian majority (p. 12).
Loud has elsewhere hailed the History as "one of the foremost monuments of the twelfth-century Renaissance, written by perhaps the finest Latin stylist of the age."[3] Here he and Wiedemann are hardly less enthusiastic when they identify the author as "one of the finest and most compelling writers of the Middle Ages" (p. 42). True, this is a highly literary text, heavily influenced by Cicero, Sallust, and perhaps even Tacitus.[4] It is unusual for the twelfth century inasmuch as it reads more like a historical monograph than a chronicle. It features occasional gems such as its portrait of Archbishop Roger of Reggio, the ultimate lean and hungry conspirator: [Men] willingly accepted his advice because of his reputation for sanctity, a reputation not yet unmasked by his own hypocrisy. He was now of an age that was almost advanced, of tall stature, gaunt and worn by extreme fasting; with a voice that was so weak that it sounded like a whisper; a pale color mixed with dark marks covered his face and his whole body, so that he seemed to be more like the dead than the living, and his exterior color gave an indication of the man within. He thought that no labour was too hard if there was any hope of gain thereby; he put up with hunger and thirst beyond human capacity, if it could cut down his expenses; he was never cheerful when he dined at home, never sad at anyone else's dinner party; he frequently spent whole days in fasting waiting for someone to send him an invitation (for the bishop of Agrigento and others who knew his habits often used to invite him) (p. 143). Yet high medieval historians such as William of Malmesbury and Gerald of Wales need not fear for their laurels. The Pseudo- Hugo is limited as a historian because he is too trapped in his own paranoid world. His villains are too black, his heroes too few, his focus of interest too narrow. But he can be fun to read, and in this translation, with the aid of the introduction and annotations by Loud and Wiedemann, he provides an excellent entry into the political history of Sicily in the mid twelfth century.
NOTES
[1] Heinrich Fichtenau, Living in the Tenth Century: Mentalities and Social Orders, translated by Patrick J. Geary (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), pp. 420-21.
[2] For example, History of the Tyrants, pp. 73, 75, 76-77, 124, 126, 127, 191, 205, 224
[3] G. A. Loud, "William the Bad or William the Unlucky? Kingship in Sicily 1154-1166," The Haskins Society Journal 8 (1996): 100.
[4] Ibid., p. 101; History of the Tyrants, pp. 42-50.