The Deeds of God | Page 5

on the side of the Christians; the appearance
of the divine army,--led by three long-dead saints,[9] is another
example of divine support. Perhaps the most vivid example is the series

of visits Saint Andrew pays to Peter Bartholomew,[10] urging him to
dig up the Lance that pierced Christ's side.
Redirecting, or redistributing the credit for victory, then, was not a
radical contribution by Guibert. A far more noticeable correction,
however, was the result of Guibert's determination to correct the style
of his source:
A version of this same history, but woven out of excessively simple
words, often violating grammatical rules, exists, and it may often bore
the reader with the stale, flat quality of its language.
The result of his attempt to improve the quality of the Gesta's language,
however, is what has distressed some of the modern readers who have
tried to deal with Guibert's strenuously elaborate diction, [11] itself a
part of his general delight, perhaps obsession, with difficulty. The utter
lack of references to Guibert by his contemporaries may indicate that
earlier readers shared R.B.C. Huygens' recent judgement that it is
marred by an "affected style and pretentious vocabulary."[12]
Guibert seems to have anticipated such a response; at the beginning of
Book Five of the Gesta he claims to be utterly unconcerned with his
audiences' interests and abilities:
In addition to the spiritual reward this little work of mine may bring,
my purpose in writing is to speak as I would wish someone else,
writing the same story, would speak to me. For my mind loves what is
somewhat obscure, and detests a raw, unpolished style. I savor those
things which are able to exercise my mind more than those things
which, too easily understood, are incapable of inscribing themselves
upon a mind always avid for novelty. In everything that I have written
and am writing, I have driven everyone from my mind, instead thinking
only of what is good for myself, with no concern for pleasing anyone
else. Beyond worrying about the opinions of others, calm or
unconcerned about my own, I await the blows of whatever words may
fall upon me.[13]
However, anyone who reads the conventionally obsequious opening of
the dedicatory epistle to Bishop Lysiard would have difficulty
accepting the claim that Guibert has no concern for pleasing anyone
else:
Some of my friends have often asked me why I do not sign this little
work with my own name; until now I have refused, out of fear of

sullying pious history with the name of a hateful person. However,
thinking that the story, splendid in itself, might become even more
splendid if attached to the name of a famous man, I have decided to
attach it to you. Thus I have placed most pleasing lamp in front of the
work of an obscure author. For, since your ancient lineage is
accompanied by a knowledge of literature, an unusual serenity and
moral probity, one may justly believe that God in his foresight wanted
the dignity of the bishop's office to honor the gift of such reverence. By
embracing your name, the little work that follows may flourish: crude
in itself, it may be made agreeable by the love of the one to whom it is
written, and made stronger by the authority of the office by which you
stand above others.
We do not know whether Lysiard shared Guibert's fascination with
what is difficult, but the failure of any other medieval writer to mention
Guibert implies a negative reception in general for the Gesta Dei.
Not every modern reader, however, has been alienated by Guibert's
posture. Labande expresses some enthusiasm for "la virtuosité du
styliste,"[14] and declares that Guibert's various uses of literary devices
"mériteraient une étude attentive." Acknowledging the fact that
Guibert's language is somewhat "alambique" and "tarbiscoté," Labande
had argued in an earlier article, although only on the basis of the
historical material in the Monodiae, that Guibert deserved to be
appreciated as an historian, with some "modern" qualities.[15] Going
even further than Labande, Eitan Burstein admires "la richesse et l
complexité" of Guibert's diction.[16] One might also point out that
Guibert was not the first to compose a text of an historical nature in a
self-consciously elaborate, difficult style. A century earlier Dudo of
Saint Quentin had used such a style for his history of the Normans;[17]
Saxo Grammaticus' History of the Danes indicates that the acrobatic
style did not die out with Guibert.[18]
Translating into English the work of a deliberately difficult writer,
whose declared aspiration is to be as hermetic as possible, might
become a quixotic task, if Guibert's passion and energy had been
focused only on providing a performance worthy of Martianus Capella.
[19] The abbot of Nogent, however, also provides additional material,
excises or corrects stories that he considers