In trying to compose the present small work, I have placed my faith
not in my literary knowledge, of which I have very little, but rather
in the spiritual authority of the history events themselves, for I
have always been certain that it was brought to completion only by
the power of God alone, and through those men whom he willed.
Likewise, the story undoubtedly was written down by whatever men,
even if uneducated, God willed. I am unable to doubt that He who
guided their steps through so many difficulties, who removed the many
military obstacles that lay before them, will implant within me, in
whatever manner he pleases, the truth about what happened, nor will
he deny to me the ability to choose the correct and fitting words. 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. It
works well enough for the less learned, who are not interested in the
quality of the diction, but only in the novelty of the story, nor is
it the case that the author should have spoken in a way that they do
not understand. Those, moreover, who think that honesty nourishes
eloquence, when they see that the words have been chosen less
carefully than the narrative demands, and that the story is told
briefly where the elaborate variety of mollifying[44] eloquence was
appropriate, when they see the narration proceed bare-footed, then,
as the poet says, they will either sleep or laugh.[45] They hate a
badly performed speech, which they judge should have been recited in
a much different way. The style of writers should fit the status of
the events: martial deeds should be told with harsh words; what
pertains to divine matters must be brought along at more controlled
pace. In the course of this work, if my ability is equal to the task,
I should perform in both modes, so that haughty Gradivus[46] may
find that his lofty crimes have been represented in matching words,
and, when piety is the subject, gravity is never violated by
excessive cleverness.[47] Even if I have been unable to follow these
standards, nevertheless I have learned to admire or praise for the
most part what is done well by someone else. Therefore I confess
that I, with shameless temerity, but out of love of faith, have run
the risk of being criticized by judges whom I do not know because,
when they find that I have taken up this project with a vow to
correct a previous work, they may value the second less than the
first. Since we see a passion for grammar everywhere, and we know
that the discipline, because of the number of scholars that now exist,
is now open to the worst students, it would be horrid thing not to
write, even if we write only as we are able, and not as we should,
about this glory of our time, or even to leave the story hidden in
the scabbiness of artless speech. I have seen what God has done in
these times--miracles greater than any he has ever performed--and now
I see a gem of this kind lying in the lowest dust. Impatient with
such contemptuous treatment, I have taken care, with whatever
eloquence I have, to clean what was given over to neglect more
preciously than any gold. I have not boldly done this entirely on my
own initiative, but I have faithfully promised others, who were eager
for this to be done. Some asked that I write in prose; but most
asked that it be done in meter, since they knew that I had, in my
youth, performed more elementary exercises in verse than I should
have. Older and more responsible, however, I thought that it should
not be done with words designed to be applauded, or with the clatter
of verse; but I thought, if I may dare to say this, that it deserved
being told with greater dignity than all the histories of Jewish
warfare, if God would grant someone the ability to do this. I do not
deny that I set my mind to writing after the capture of Jerusalem,
when those who had taken part in the expedition began to return; but
because I did not want to be importunate, I put the task off.
However, because, with the permission (I do not know if it is in
accordance with the will) of God, the chance to carry out my wishes
came about, I have gone forward with what I had desired piously,
perhaps only to be laughed at by everyone, yet I shall transcend the
laughter of some, as long as I may occupy myself with the daily
growth of my creation, no matter what objections others may bark. If
anyone does laugh, let him not blame man who has done what he was
able to do, whose intentions were sound; may he not instantly
cauterize the fault in my writings, but if he utterly despises them,
let him lay aside the war of words, rewrite what was badly done, and
offer his own examples of correct writing. Furthermore, if anyone
accuses me of writing obscurely, let him fear inflicting on himself
the stigma of weak intellect, since I know for certain that no one
trained in letters can raise a question about whatever I may have
said in the following book.
In proceeding to offer a model to correct (or perhaps to corrupt) the
history, I have first attempted to consider the motives and needs
that brought about this expedition, as I have heard them, and then,
having shown how it came about, to relate the events themselves. I
learned the story, related with great veracity, from the previous
author whom I follow, and from those who were present on the
expedition. I have often compared the book's version of events with
what was said by those who saw what happened with their own eyes, and
beyond a doubt I have seen that neither testimony was discordant with
the other. Whatever I have added, I have learned from eye-witnesses,
or have found out for myself. If anything described is false, no
clever critic may rightly accuse me of lying, I say, since he cannot
argue, as God is my witness, that I have spoken out of a desire to
deceive. How can it be surprising if we make errors, when we are
describing things done in a foreign land, when we are clearly unable
not only to express in words our own thoughts and actions, but even
to collect them in the silence of our own minds? What can I say then
about intentions, which are so hidden most of the time that they can
scarcely be discerned by the acuity of the inner man? Therefore we
should not be severely attacked if we stumble unknowingly in our
words; but relentless blame should be brought to bear when falsity is
willfully woven into the text, in an attempt to deceive, or out of a
desire to disguise something. Furthermore, the names of men,
provinces, and cities presented me with considerable difficulties; I
knew some of the familiar ones were written down incorrectly by this
author, and I do not doubt that in recording foreign, and therefore
less known, names, errors were also made. For example, we inveigh
every day against the Turks, and we call Khorasan[48] by its new name;
when the old word has been forgotten and has almost disappeared, no
use of ancient sources, even if they were available, has been made: I
have chosen to use no word unless it were in common use. Had I used
Parthians instead of Turks, as some have suggested, Caucasus and not
Khorasan, in the pursuit of authenticity, I might have been
misunderstood and laid myself open to the attacks of those who argue
about the proper names of provinces. In particular, since I have
observed that in our lands provinces have been given new names, we
should assume that the same changes take place in foreign lands. For
if what was once called Neustria is now called Normandy, and what was
once called Austrasia is now, because of a turn of events, called
Lotharingia, why should one not believe that the same thing happened
in the East? As some say, Egyptian Memphis is now called Babylon.
Instead of using different names, thereby becoming obscure or
participating in polemics, I have preferred to make use of the common
word. I was in doubt for a long time about the name of the bishop of
Puy, and learned it just before finishing this work, for it was not
in the text from which I was working. Please, my reader, knowing
without a doubt that I certainly had no more time for writing than
those moments during which I dictated the words themselves, forgive
the stylistic infelicities; I did not first write on wax tablets to
be corrected diligently later, by I wrote them directly on the
parchment, exactly as it is, harshly barked out. I inscribed a name
that lacks arrogance, and brings honor to our people: The Deeds of
God through the Franks. Here ends the preface to the history which
is called the Deeds of God through the Franks, written by the
reverend Dom Guibert, abbot of the monastery of Saint Mary at Nogent,
which is located near Coucy, in the district of Laon.--