Galbert's Taken: A Summary
To What Extent Can Galbert of Bruges’s The Murder of Charles the Good be Taken as an ‘Utterly Artless’ Account?
Although Galbert of Bruges’s De multro, traditione, et occisione gloriosi Karoli comitis Flandriarum (hereafter De multro) may initially appear to the historian to be a straightforward contemporary eyewitness account of events surrounding the murder of Count Charles the Good of Flanders, questions surrounding its authorship have divided scholarly opinion. In his 1891 translation to the text, Henri Pirenne referred to Galbert both as a ‘naïve’ author and a ‘transparent everyman’ who simply relayed factual information that he had seen first-hand. This belief led Pirenne to argue that Galbert’s account of the murder of Charles the …show more content…
Good was; ‘written under the strong and immediate influence of the events it records [and] was not revised by its author. This means that it is utterly artless, written in absolute good faith. Its narrator speaks with an open heart. Nowhere does he try to denature the events. He notes them exactly as they are reported to him.’[1]
Pirenne’s thoughts would go on to influence James Bruce Ross – author of the only English translation of the text first published in 1959,[2] who saw the source as an ‘impersonal narration’ and noted Galbert’s ‘transparent honesty, loyalty and Christian piety.’ In creating his account.[3] Indeed, as Jeff Rider notes, this view of Galbert’s source as representing a neutral and unmediated account of events probably remains the predominant general perception of Galbert’s account.[4]
However, due to the rise of the study of narratology in the past few decades,[5] scholars have more recently begun to argue – especially within the Dutch historiography, that Galbert’s account is not as ‘utterly artless’ as Pirenne once thought.[6] This progression of thought has even led Rider to view Galbert’s De multro as a text that is so well crafted that its narrative devices appear unnoticeable; ‘The transparency of Galbert’s accounts is not the product of his not having reshaped what he perceived, but of his having reshaped it so completely; it is the transparency not of immediate perception, but of an ordered mind to itself.’[7]
There seems, therefore, to be an historiographical dichotomy towards the interpretation of Galbert’s De multro. On the one hand, historians of the Pirenne camp argue that Galbert’s account is representative of an author relaying historical events as he saw them in a purely objective way and with no mediation. Whilst on the other hand, historians such as Rider argue that the account is a wholly mediated one in which Galbert employs various narrative devices to manipulate the meaning of his account. This essay will therefore attempt to explore these two claims through an investigation of the extent to which the De multro can be seen to contain examples of narrative techniques and the effect that these devices have upon the audience’s interpretation of Galbert’s narrative.
It is significant to stop at this juncture and highlight the relevance of studying issues surrounding narrative theory within Galbert’s De multro. Most narratologists agree with the simple definition of an historical narrative as a representation of a series of factual events, which are mediated through the narrator’s use of literary devices.[8] Narratologists agree that it is this use of various narrative techniques that influences a reader’s interpretation of an historical representation. Indeed, as Hayden White notes, if a narrative does not include the narrative device of closure, for example, then it moves from an historical narrative simply to a chronicle; ‘it does not so much conclude as simply terminate.’[9] This then becomes important when we consider that through his rejection of Galbert’s work as a mediated narrative, Pirenne also rejects the De multro as being representative of a work of history.[10] The essay will therefore attempt to work on two levels. We will attempt to identify the extent to which Galbert’s account includes examples of narrative techniques, through which we will determine whether it is valid to view the text as a work of historical writing or, on the other hand, simply as a chronicle of events surrounding the murder of Charles in 1127.
However, as with any essay attempting to deal with such a broad issue as narrative theory, it becomes important here to delineate the boundaries of the study by establishing a clear programmatic. It is prudent to note that due to the complexity of the field of narratology, it would be impossible to cover all aspects of narrative theory within the constraints of this essay and for this reason we will be investigating only a few of the more prominent narrative devices that can be highlighted through specific examples within Galbert’s account. It is also important to note that as there is no single paradigmatical methodology through which to analyse a narrative,[11] the establishment of this essay’s programmatic is therefore wholly subjective. The essay will begin by examining the background Galbert’s De multro and his methodology in constructing the text before moving on to explore issues relating to the author’s use of narrative techniques. These include Galbert’s normalization of events through the establishment of a central conflict, his manipulation of time and space within the narrative, his use of motifs as proleptic devices throughout the text and finally an examination of Galbert’s own role as narrator within the De multro. It must also be pointed out that the essay will not attempt to explore the theoretical extremities of the field of narratology, but will instead attempt to pick out specific aspects of the theory that can be applied to examples within Galbert’s text.
Although scholarly views towards Galbert’s manipulation of his narrative are disputed, historians are in agreement that the De multro is unique in that it is the first and only journalistic history to emerge from the twelfth century. Indeed, Rider qualified it as ‘formally bizarre’[12] and Beryl Smalley labelled it a ‘precious freak of historiography’.[13] This is because Galbert’s account is made up of a prologue and 122 chapters, the bulk of which take the form of chronologically dated journal entries in which Galbert records the day-to-day events of the period directly after the murder of Count Charles the Good. The importance of the De multro’s form as a journalistic history becomes evident when we consider the methodology used in constructing the account. Very little is known about Galbert and his work outside of what he tells us mid-way through the source itself; ‘And it should be known that I, Galbert, a notary, though I had no suitable place for writing, set down on tablets a summary of events; I did this in the midst of such a great tumult and the burning of so many houses… and in the midst of so much danger by night and conflict by day. I had to wait for moments of peace during the night or day to set in order the present account of events as they happened, and in this way, though in great straits, I transcribed for the faithful what you see and read.’[14]
This is our first indication of Galbert’s awareness of his influence upon his account and the effect that his authorship has on the meaning of his narrative. The passage alerts the reader to the fact that the De multro was not simply written ‘under the immediate influence of events’ as Pirenne would have it, but was instead composed within an unmentioned time-period that Galbert notes as ‘moments of peace’. Rider points out Galbert’s own distinction between noting events down (notavi) on his wax tablets before later returning to write up these notes (scribendi) onto a parchment manuscript.[15] This is representative of the fact that Galbert implemented and was aware of a process of editing in the creation of his narrative. This editorial process is more explicitly mentioned in the same chapter when Galbert tells the audience that ‘I have not set down individual deeds because they were so numerous and so intermingled but only noted carefully what was decreed and done by common action…’[16] Galbert’s self awareness of his position as editor in the mediation of his narrative is similar to other medieval historians, such as when Suger tells the audience that ‘the full telling of it would need much detail, but we shall narrate it briefly to avoid being tedious…’ in his own account of the same events in Flanders in 1127.[17]
Another issue concerning Galbert’s creation of the De multro comes about when we consider the way in which the source was initially put together. As Ross notes in her useful introduction to the English translation Galbert composed the text in at least three distinct phases. The original day-to-day account of events beginning with the murder of Charles on 2 March 1127 and ending with the punishment of the traitors on 22 May 1127 was written at the time and constitutes chapters 15-67 and 72-85.[18] Once the ‘great tumult’ in Flanders had come to an end after 22 May 1127, Galbert then returned to revise his account in December of that year, adding an introduction, chapters 1-14 (a brief survey of Charles’s reign), chapters 68-71 (a genealogical interpolation explaining the familial backgrounds of Charles and the Erembalds) and an ‘epilogue’ concerning events that had occurred in the direct aftermath of the punishment of Charles’s murderers.[19] After civil strife returned to Flanders in the Spring of 1128, Galbert resumed his day-to-day account of events and added chapters 93-121 to his work, with the final chapter ‘undoubtedly’ being added later.[20] We can therefore see that the De multro cannot be considered as a text that was written ‘under the immediate influence of the events it records’. Even though the day-to-day journalistic entries may appear to be so, an investigation of the De multro reveals how this original account was revised and added to once Galbert knew the beginning, middle and end of the events (fabula) that he was representing.
An analysis of these revisions that Galbert made to his account in December 1127 after he knew this ‘end of the story’ – so to speak, reveals how he intended to ‘normalize’ the tumultuous events that took place between March and May through the establishment of a central conflict (agon). As most narratologists agree, narratives require an explanation of causation, normalization and closure to bring a sense of coherence and meaning to a representation of events.[21] Through the revisions that Galbert made to his account in the Winter of 1127, he was able to impose a sense of coherence and meaning to the events that he had recorded through the characterisation of Count Charles – and subsequently Gervaise de Praat as the protagonists and the Erembald clan and their accomplices as the antagonists that Galbert is able to frame his narrative and shape the meaning of the events that occurred in the wake of the count’s murder. Galbert’s own manipulation of his narrative in order to explain the causation of Charles’s murder on 2 March 1127 through this creation of the agon becomes particularly clear when we study the introductory chapters that he added to the text after the original fabula had ended – at least apparently to Galbert himself, after 22 May. Here Galbert’s establishment of the agon is particularly explicit through his use of emotive language and the audience is immediately made aware that this will be a narrative framed by the struggle between Charles (and later Gervaise) and the Erembalds and also between God and the Devil. ‘Those murderers and drunkards and whoremongers and slaves of all vices in our land certainly did not deserve to have as ruler such a good prince, devout and strong, Catholic, the supporter of the poor, the protector, after God, of the churches of God, the defender of the fatherland, and one in whom the residue of earthly authority assumed the form of ruling well and the substance of serving God. When the Devil saw the progress of the Church and the Christian faith, as you are about to hear, he undermined the stability of the land, that is, of the Church of God, and threw it into confusion by guile and treachery and the shedding of innocent blood.’[22]
The above example of the establishment of a central conflict in the text is therefore clearly demonstrable of how Galbert uses the narrative device of the agon to shape and frame the events that he witnessed in the Spring of 1127.
As we have alluded to in the previous example, Galbert’s portrayal of a moral message within his narrative is directly attributed to God’s pervasive influence upon the events throughout the text. The moral itself is explicitly mentioned by Galbert himself in the introduction he added to the text in his revisions, which again notifies us of the way in which he manipulates his narrative, adding meaning to the events that he accounted earlier that Spring; ‘Therefore I ask and admonish anyone who happens upon this dry style and this little handful of a book not to make fun of it or condemn it but to read with fresh wonder what is written down and what came to pass by the ordinance of God only in our time. And let no one renounce or betray earthly rulers whom we are bound to believe were placed over us by the ordinance of God, as the apostle says: “Let every soul be subject to every power, either to the king as supreme or to governors as sent by God.”’[23]
Galbert enhances the impact upon the audience of his intended message by tapping into the recognisable Biblical trope of divine vengeance being enacted to avenge old sins. This is particularly apparent in the genealogical interpolation that Galbert added to the De multro in December 1127 after a passage dealing with the siege of the castle of Oudenaarde on 17 April. In this four-chapter interlude, Galbert describes Robert the Frisian’s treacherous accession to the countship half a century prior to events surrounding Charles’s murder.[24] Here Galbert tells the audience how Robert had betrayed the young Count Arnold, who was slain by his own servants and is explicit in notifying the audience to the direct bearing that this has in explaining the murder of his relative Count Charles; ‘In connection with this deed the prophecy concerning past treachery should be noted: “Since God is wont in the severity of his punishment to correct the iniquities of the fathers unto the third and fourth generation.”’[25]
This is a clear example within the text of how Galbert went about manipulating the narrative in order to normalize the day-to-day events that he had recorded between March and May 1127. The fact that the interpolation was added to the account only once Galbert knew the ‘conclusion’ to the events surrounding the aftermath of Charles’s murder in December 1127 and the strong moral message that it carries shows us Galbert’s desire to normalize these events through his imposition of a sense of causality to the narrative.
It must also be pointed out that this notion of divine vengeance upon sins committed by the characters’ ancestors is also extended to the Erembald clan and is used to explain their own demise. After explaining the cause behind Charles’s own murder, Galbert, in the very same interpolation, applies the same reasoning to the eventual execution of the antagonists. In the short chapter, Galbert tells us how the clan’s ancestor and patriarch Erembald gained the castellany of Bruges through adulterous and treacherous means, by murdering Boldran, the castellan of Bruges; ‘This was done, in fact, while the others were asleep, and no one but the adulterer knew what had become of the castellan who had been drowned without heirs.’[26]
As with Charles’s murder, Galbert goes on to make explicit the link between Erembald’s treachery and the divine vengeance that was enacted upon his successors, the antagonists of his tale; ‘On Erembald’s return he married the adulteress, and bought the office of castellan with the plentiful resources of his lord. By this time he begot the provost, Bertulf, and Hacket, Wulfric Cnop, Lambert Nappin, the father of Borsiard, and also Robert, castellan after him in the second place. After Robert, his son Walter succeeded as heir to the office of castellan in the third place. After him, Hacket was castellan, in whose time Count Charles was betrayed. In this fourth degree, therefore, the earlier precipitation of Boldran was punished in the persons of Erembald’s successors by this new precipitation which was accomplished for the sins of their parents, as it is read in Exodus, where God speaks to Moses in the thirty-fourth chapter of the same Exodus where God gives out the laws for all saying: “I, the lord your God, am a jealous God , visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the sons, even unto the third and fourth generation of those who hate me.’”’[27]
Although the De multro contains many other examples of Galbert’s us of normalization within his narrative, it is this example his explanation of the murder of Charles and the execution of the Erembalds through his use of the Biblical trope of divine retribution that best demonstrates Galbert’s own manipulation of his the events he recorded within his narrative when he came back to revise his original day-to-day account.
An analysis even of the day-to-day accounts reveals that they are not simply written in the style of a chronicle, but are instead carefully crafted and shaped using narrative devices.
One of the most prominent examples of these is Galbert’s manipulation of time and the diegetic space within his account. This is particularly visible in the chapter relating to the direct aftermath of Charles’s murder when the Erembalds and their accomplices are searching throughout the castle of Bruges for their remaining enemies. Galbert’s narratological art is perhaps best seen here through the way in which he extends what Chatman calls the internal ‘chrono-logic’[28] with his protracted description of the death of Themard, the castellan of Bourbourg. This strange and drawn out account of the castellan’s death begins with Galbert simply telling us that; ‘They also killed the castellan of Bourbourg. First wounding him mortally, they afterward dragged him ignobly by his feet from the gallery into which he had gone up with the count, to the doors of the church and dismembered him outside with their swords. This castellan, however, after making confession of his sins to the priests of that very church, received the body and blood of Christ according to Christian
custom.’[29]
After leaving the castellan ‘at the point of death in the gallery’, Galbert describes how the murderers moved out of the church to pursue their enemies in the castle before returning the narrative focus back to the unfortunate castellan; ‘At the same moment, there fell into the hands of the traitors two sons of the castellan of Bourbourg who meanwhile was confessing his sins to the priests in the gallery of the church…As soon as they had heard of the murder of the count and their father they tried to flee…’[30]
However, Galbert yet again returns to the death of the castellan in the following chapter when after pursuing their enemies through Bruges, the murderers search for their most hated enemy, Walter of Loker; ‘For when the nephews of the provost and that most criminal of men, Borsiard, with their accomplices, returned to the castle immediately after the flight of their enemies, he and his knights hunted for Walter of Loker whom they hated most of all…Now they rushed through the doors into the church, and running around with their swords bare and still dripping, with great noise and clash of arms, they searched among the chests and benches of the brothers of the church, calling Walter by name, and they found the castellan of Bourbourg, whom they had mortally wounded in the gallery, still breathing. Then they finally killed him, after dragging him by the feet to the doors of the church. While he was dying in the gallery he had given his ring to the abbess of Origny to bear to his wife as a sign of his death and as a token of the requests which he had made, through the abbess, to his wife and sons, whose death he did not know about until after his own death.’[31]
It cannot therefore be argued that Galbert’s account is an artless one as the chronology of the death of the castellan of Bourbourg is manipulated so as to allow other aspects of the narrative to come through. After we are simply told that ‘they also killed the castellan of Bourbourg’ at the start of chapter 16, Galbert protracts his death so as to interweave the various other narratives of the murderers searching around the castle for their enemies, the pursuit of his own sons around Bruges and the capture and murder of Walter of Loker. Even then, Galbert later returns to show the dying castellan giving his ring to the abbess of Origny, which as Rider notes, would have been the sign through which Galbert himself would have known of the castellan’s death.[32] If it were true that Galbert’s De multro was utterly artless, then the first line of the passages shown above would have sufficed in telling the audience that the castellan of Bourbourg was murdered. Instead, Galbert uses his death as a narrative device through which to open up and interconnect a series of other narratives.
Chapters 16 and 17 also reveal Galbert’s use of diegetical space and the way in which he uses smaller narratives and selectively orders them so as to propel his overarching narrative. As we have mentioned above, the death of the castellan of Bourbourg was punctuated by a series of pursuits by the murderers of their enemies. It is interesting to note the way in which Galbert is able to chop and change the focus of his narrative through close use of these interwoven pursuit narratives and through the sense of distance away from the castle that they create before returning the focus to events in the castle. The first of these narratives involves Henry, who does not make it out of the castle itself; ‘They pursued into the count’s house a certain knight named Henry whom Borsiard suspected of the death of his brother Robert. He threw himself at the feet of the castellan, Hacket, who had just gone into the house with his men to take possession of it and who now took Henry and the brother of Walter of Loker under his protection and saved them from their attackers.’[33]
Galbert’s second pursuit narrative then takes the audience diegetically to the outer walls of Bruges; ‘At the same moment, there fell into the hands of the traitors two sons of the castellan of Bourbourg…As soon as they had heard of the murder of the count and their father they tried to flee, but the wretched traitors, going after them on horseback, pursued them to the Sands at the exit of the town. A wicked knight named Eric, one of those who had betrayed the count, pulled one of the brothers off the horse on which he was fleeing and then together with the pursuers slew him. The other brother, who was rushing in flight to the threshold of his lodgings, they came upon face to face and pierced him through with their swords.’[34]
The diegetical distance from the castle is then extended even further in the third and final pursuit where Richard of Woumen is chased ‘for a mile’ and then escapes capture. It is at this point that Galbert’s art is revealed, as he uses this failed pursuit to shift the narrative focus back to events within castle of Bruges; ‘The traitors, frustrated in their pursuit, returned to the castle where the clergy and people of our place had poured in and were wandering around, stunned by what had happened.’[35]
Through an analysis of how these pursuits fit into the narrative, we can clearly see them as devices used by Galbert. As Rider notes, there must surely have been more than three pursuits, but Galbert selects them and more importantly then orders them so as to create an increasing the diegetical distance from the castle before using the failed capture of Richard and the subsequent ‘frustration’ of the pursuers to return the narrative focus back to events in the castle.[36]
Another literary device that is often central to narratives is that of prolepsis, or the foreshadowing of events.[37] When analysing the De multro we can see Galbert’s use of prolepsis through the inclusion of certain motifs that run throughout the text. The inclusion of these motifs is a fundamental indicator of Galbert’s revisions to his original account in December 1127, as prolepsis as a narrative device cannot be achieved without first knowing the outcome of certain events and then returning to foreshadow these outcomes earlier in the text. Although there exist many examples of this use of prolepsis in the De multro we have chosen to look at two specific examples in detail, the motif of the silver cup and that of the Erembalds’ death by precipitation.
We are first exposed to the motif of the silver cup in chapter 16, when Galbert tells us how Count Charles had bought a silver cup in the market of Ypres; ‘…the count had bought from them for twenty-one marks a silver vessel which was marvellously made so that the liquid which it held disappeared as one looked at it.’[38]
The fact that Charles had bought a silver cup at first seems to the audience to be an aside by Galbert, but it as his narrative progresses it becomes clear that it is a motif through which he directs a critique of the ignorance, greed and venality of certain clergy members. The first return of the silver cup motif then comes when Louis IV of France searches for Count Charles’s lost treasure. Galbert uses the motif to mock the credulity of certain clergy when Helias, the dean of Saint Donatian hides Charles’s treasure with a priest after he had been given the vessels by the treacherous provost, Bertulf, tricking him into believing that the silver cup is instead a saint’s relic; ‘The dean had entrusted that chest to the care of a certain simple priest, Eggard, in the church of the Holy Saviour, indicating that it should be venerated as though it contained the most precious relics. How devoutly, in fact, that simple priest had received the chest and how, having placed it in the sanctuary, he poured forth prayers and begged for the salvation of his soul…every night he placed before it tallow candles, wax candles, and lights and lighted lamps, believing he could not venerate those relics enough. (That priest had really done enough to deserve a drink or more of good wine from those vessels when they were handed over to the new count!)[39]
Galbert then brings back the silver cup motif later in his narrative to expose what he perceives as the corruption of the same dean Helias; ‘On May 7, Saturday, the dean, Helias, handed over to the new count the silver vessel and the golden goblet, with the golden cover, belonging to Count Charles which the provost, Bertulf, had entrusted to the dean when he took flight…Many people marvelled at the artlessness of the dean Helias, how he had feigned the appearance of sanctity and simplicity, for although he had lived heretofore as if he were rigorous in sanctity, he had certainly strayed from the path in receiving this loot, since it is forbidden by the authority of God: “You shall not touch the unclean.” For he gave the treasure up unwillingly to the count, showing in this way how much he had loved his loot. He also said that the provost Bertulf had given those vessels to Saint Donatian for the salvation of his soul, believing he could in this way plead his innocence. In this matter we all knew perfectly well that the provost had received the count’s vessels for his own use in the division of the treasure, and when he was unable to carry them with him in flight, he left that wretched loot to his dean.’[40]
It is when we consider that Galbert would only have discovered about the story of the silver cup upon the revelations concerning the count’s treasure of 21 May 1127 in chapter 85 that we can see how he must have inserted the apparent paratext of Charles buying the cup at Ypres back in chapter 16 as a proleptic device. Although it is possible that the initial aside mentioning the cup could have been coincidental, it is much more plausible to argue that it is actually a carefully crafted motif with the purpose of foreshadowing certain events that occur later in the account.
Another clear example of Galbert’s use of prolepsis can be seen through the use of the motif of falling which foreshadows the antagonists’ deaths by precipitation. As with the motif of the silver cup, this motif could only have been added to the De multro in Galbert’s revisions, once he had been witness to the execution of the Erembalds on 22 May 1127 by this ‘novel’ form of death.[41] The principal example of this motif can bee seen when Galbert describes the original sin committed by the ancestor Erembald, whose crime is used to foreshadow the punishment of his successors; ‘When the silence of night had fallen, and the castellan had gone to the rim of the ship to urinate, Erembald, running up behind, precipitated his lord into the depths of the rushing water, far from the ship.’[42]
Of course, it is highly implausible to suggest that Galbert would have known that Erembald had ‘precipitated’ Boldran from the ship and we must therefore argue that the passage (which we already know was added to the account as a later revision) is a cleverly crafted motif used by the author to foreshadow the deaths of the traitors.
This proleptic falling motif is also employed by Galbert at various other points throughout the text to signify the moral and the eventual physical precipitation of the antagonists. In chapter 26, Galbert tells us of the antagonists that; ‘…God had so blinded them that they no longer possessed any reason or prudence, but, cast down into every kind of evil and drunk with wrath and rage, they went astray in fear and dread, both those who had betrayed the count, and those who were lending them aid.’[43]
The antagonists’ death by precipitation is further pre-empted in chapter 41 when one of the traitors, Gilbert, tries to flee, but instead slid over the castle walls and fell to his death.[44] Galbert uses his motif so explicitly that he even introduces a prophetic omen to his account of the siege of the perpetrators in the castle; ‘Now when the bowmen among the besieged were aiming their arrows at the workmen from their position on the summit of the tower and the strings of the drawn bows were vibrating, a certain bow with its arrow in place fell from the hands of a bowman just in the act of drawing. This was observed by the knights, who were standing by… and they prophesised a most unlucky consequence of the fall of the bow and arrow from the besieged.’[45]
Galbert’s use of the falling motif in his account is both so frequent and explicit that he creates in the audience a sense of inevitability towards the murderers’ death by precipitation by the time it actually comes around in chapter 81.[46]
As we noted in the introduction, there is an existing view in the scholarship that argues Galbert’s position as a neutral and objective narrator. However, close analysis of the way that Galbert attempts to influence the meaning of his narrative places Pirenne’s belief that he wrote under the immediate influence of events under scrutiny. The most striking example of this is when Galbert assumes the role of omniscient narrator in trying to exculpate Robert the Young from the murder, as he was loved by the people of Bruges and by Galbert himself. In one of the introductory chapters added when Galbert sat down and revised his original account, he describes how Robert was effectively tricked into the plot surrounding the murder of Charles; ‘Then the provost and his nephews withdrew into an inner room and summoned those whom they wanted… and they summoned the young Robert to join the crime, urging him to pledge his hand that he would share with them what they were about to do… But the noble young man, forewarned by the virtue of his soul and perceiving the gravity of what they were urging upon him, resisted them, not wishing to be drawn unwittingly into their compact until he could find out what it was they had bound themselves to do.’[47]
After being threatened by Isaac and William and coerced into joining the pact, Galbert tells us how Robert was informed of their plot to murder the count to which; ‘…the young man, struck with terror and dissolved in tears, cried out: “God forbid that we should betray one who is our lord and the count of the fatherland. Believe me, if you do not give this up, I shall go and openly reveal your treachery to the count and to everyone, and, God willing, I shall never lend aid and counsel to this pact!”’[48]
Again, it would be highly improbable to suggest that Galbert had actually witnessed the events surrounding the forming of the plot to murder Count Charles, therefore we must view his exculpation of Robert as a way of influencing the meaning of day-to-day account of events that he had recorded through his addition of this introductory passage. It is when we consider that Walter of Thérouanne’s[49] contemporary account that was written outside of Bruges itself does not project the same sympathy towards Robert that we can clearly see Galbert’s influence upon the meaning of his narrative through his attempt to exculpate Robert, whom he was so fond of.
This notion of Galbert’s fabrication of events to suit the intended message of his narrative can also be applied to his inclusion of direct speech at various points throughout the text. One such example comes when Galbert describes how Walter of Loker pleaded with his captors before being thrown to the serfs to be killed; ‘Walter, now captive and sure of death, went along crying, “Have pity on me, oh Lord!” They answered him, saying: “We must repay you with the kind of pity you have deserved from us!”’[50]
Whether Galbert was actually present at the capture of Walter is highly dubious and so we must therefore argue that he once again assumes here the position of omniscient narrator. Through appropriating the direct speech of the characters of Walter and his captors, Galbert is able to use it to suit his intended message. By showing Walter crying out piously to God, Galbert establishes Walter as the hero figure and through the same use of direct speech, shows his captors as mocking him mercilessly. The same appropriation of direct speech can be seen with the capture of Fromold Junior and is representative of Galbert’s mediating influence as narrator within his text.
It is also interesting to note the dramatic effect that Galbert’s use of language creates within the text, as it shows us that this is not an artless account, but instead a carefully fashioned one. Instead of merely reporting factual events in the form of a chronicle, we have seen how in previous examples Galbert’s use of language has a diegetical effect and thus shapes the audience’s interpretation of these events. In the opening chapters we are told how the conspirators sealed the plot ‘safe in the cover of darkness’.[51] The audience is then placed directly within the text through the diegetical effect of Galbert’s language in his account of Walter of Loker’s hiding and subsequent capture that we have already mentioned above. Galbert makes the audience aware of Walter’s feelings of anxiety and confusion by placing the narrative voice itself within the organ case that he is hiding in. This is achieved through the diegesis that is created through Galbert’s vivid description of the ‘noise of arms’ of the murderers that would have been audible to the terrified Walter.[52] Such a vivid description of events does not fit with the view of the source as utterly artless, but instead, when considered carefully, reveals that Galbert’s use of language is intended to create a strong diegetical effect.
Finally, we must return to the structure of the De multro to shed light on Galbert’s narrative authority over his account. It is when we consider that the secondary account of day-to-day events that Galbert resumed in 1128 only constitutes 25 pages of the De multro compared to the 102 page account of 1127 that we can clearly see the extent to which Galbert came back to and revised his original account of events in 1127. Although the reasons behind this difference in length has been attributed to Galbert’s eventual failure by 1128 to secure patronage for his work,[53] its importance for the purposes of this essay can be seen simply in the fact that the account of 1127 is a carefully revised and therefore crafted one, compared to the more unrefined account of 1128.
In conclusion, therefore, where then does the argument of Galbert’s De multro being an utterly artless account of the murder of Charles the Good stand? Although this study could not hope to investigate every aspect of the text, the specific examples we have selected are demonstrable of Galbert’s deployment of a wide array of narratological devices in his account through which he influences the meaning of his narrative. We have clearly seen that Galbert attempts to normalize the events of 1127 in particular by explaining them through divine providence, is able to manipulate the internal chronology of his narrative and uses the narratological device of prolepsis to foreshadow future events through his use of distinct motifs. Although the constraints of the essay have limited the wider study of Galbert’s position as narrator within the text, we have pointed to his clear subjectivity leading to his manipulation of the narrative through the example of his exculpation of Robert the Young. We must argue that Galbert’s ability to impose a sense of causality, normalization and closure amongst many other narrative devices within his account lead us to view the text as a carefully crafted history rather than simply a chronicle of the events in Flanders in 1127-1128. Where then does this place us within the historiographical dichotomy of Pirenne and Rider’s views? It is perhaps true to suggest that the earlier historians such as Pirenne, Ross and Smalley have tended to confuse the journalistic format of Galbert’s De multro with the fact that it is a thoroughly revised and mediated work. Although it is true to refer to the source as a ‘precious freak of historiography’, one should not therefore assume that Galbert was simply influenced by the events surrounding him. On the contrary, whereas it is perhaps too far to follow Rider’s view as the De multro as a ‘seamlessly’ crafted work,[54] it remains true to counter Pirenne’s argument that instead of being directly influenced by events, it was Galbert himself who exercised an influence over the events of 1127-1128 through his deployment of various narrative devices.
Word Count: 4,725 (without quotations)
Bibliography
Primary Sources:
Galbert of Bruges, The Murder of Charles the Good, trans. J. B. Ross (Toronto, 1982).
Suger, The Deeds of Louis the Fat, trans. R. C. Cusimano and J. Moorhead (Washington, DC, 1992).
Secondary Sources:
H. P. Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative (Cambridge, 2002).
M. Bal, Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative (Toronto, 1985).
R. Barthes, ‘Introduction to the Structural Analysis of Narratives’, in S. Sontag (ed.), A Barthes Reader (New York, 1982), pp.251-95.
J. Dhont, ‘Medieval “Solidarities”: Flemish Society in Transition, 1127-1128’, in F. L. Cheyette (ed.), Lordship and Community on Medieval Europe (New York, 1975), pp.268-289.
J. Dunbabin, France in the Making 843-1180, 2nd edn (Oxford, 2000).
G. Genette, Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method, trans. J. E. Lewin (New York, 1980).
A. Green and K. Troup, The Houses of History: A Critical Reader in Twentieth-Century History and Theory (Manchester, 1999).
N. J. Housley, ‘Crisis in Flanders, 1127-1128’, History Today (October, 1986), pp.10-16.
L. W. Marvin, ‘“Men Famous in Combat and Battle…”: Common Soldiers and the Siege of Bruges, 1127’, Journal of Medieval History, 24 (1998), pp.243-58.
R. I. Moore, ‘Guibert of Nogent and his World’, in H. Mayr-Harting and R. I. Moore (eds.), Studies in Medieval History Presented to R. H. C. Davis (London, 1992), pp.107-17.
D. Nicholas, Medieval Flanders (London, 1992).
A. P. Norman, ‘Telling it Like it Was: Historical Narratives on Their Own Terms’, History and Theory, 30 (1991), pp.119-35.
H. Pirenne, Histoire du meutre de Charles le Bon, Comte de Flandre, 1127-1128 (Paris, 1891).
G. Prince, A Dictionary of Narratology (Lincoln, 1987).
G. Prince, Narratology: The Form and Functioning of Narrative (The Hague: Mouton, 1982).
J. Rider, God’s Scribe: The Historiographical Art of Galbert of Bruges (Washington, DC, 2001).
J. B. Ross, ‘Rise and Fall of a Twelfth-Century Clan: The Erembalds and the Murder of Count Charles of Flanders, 1127-1128’, Speculum, 34 (1959), pp.367-90.
B. Smalley, Historians in the Middle Ages (London, 1974).
P. J. M. Sturgess, Narrativity: Theory and Practice (Oxford, 1992).
R. C. Van Caenegem, ‘Law and Power in Twelfth-Century Flanders’, in T. N. Bisson (ed.), Cultures of Power: Lordship, Status, and Process in Twelfth-Century Europe (Philadelphia, 1995), pp.149-71.
H. White, The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation (London, 1989).
-----------------------
[1] H. Pirenne, Histoire du meurtre de Charles le Bon, Comte de Flandre, 1127-1128 (Paris, 1891), pp.viii, xiii.
[2] Galbert of Bruges, The Murder of Charles the Good, trans. J. B. Ross (Toronto, 1982). Hereafter Ross, trans.
[3] Ross, trans., pp.63, 75.
[4] J. Rider, God’s Scribe: The Historiographical Art of Galbert of Bruges (Washington, DC, 2001), p.5.
[5] P. J. M. Sturgess, Narrativity: Theory and Practice (Oxford, 1992), p.3.
[6] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.7.
[7] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.111.
[8] H. P. Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative (Cambridge, 2002), pp.12, 16.
[9] H. White, The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation (London, 1989), p.5.
[10] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.4.
[11] Sturgess, Narrativity, p.5.
[12] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.1.
[13] B. Smalley, Historians in the Middle Ages (London, 1974), p.107.
[14] Ross, trans., p.164.
[15] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.31.
[16] Ross, trans., p.164.
[17] Suger, The Deeds of Louis the Fat, trans. R. C. Cusimano and J. Moorhead (Washington, DC, 1992), p.138.
[18] Ross, trans., p.64.
[19] Ross, trans., p.65.
[20] Ross, trans., p.65.
[21] Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction, p.40; White, Content, pp.3-5.
[22] Ross, trans., p.81.
[23] Ross, trans., p.80.
[24] Ross, trans., pp.231-40.
[25] Ross, trans., p.237.
[26] Ross, trans., p.239.
[27] Ross, trans., pp.239-40.
[28] Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction, p.40; White, Content, p.14.
[29] Ross, trans., p.121.
[30] Ross, trans., p.121.
[31] Ross, trans., pp.125-26.
[32] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.95.
[33] Ross, trans., p.121.
[34] Ross, trans., pp.121-22.
[35] Ross, trans., p.122.
[36] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.96.
[37] G. Genette, Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method, trans. J. E. Lewin (New York, 1980), p.40.
[38] Ross, trans., p.124.
[39] Ross, trans., pp.219-20.
[40] Ross, trans., pp.253-54.
[41] Rider, God’s Scribe, pp.82-83.
[42] Ross, trans., pp.239.
[43] Ross, trans., p.148.
[44] Ross, trans., p.175.
[45] Ross, trans., p.214.
[46] Ross, trans., p.250.
[47] Ross, trans., p.109.
[48] Ross, trans., pp.109-10.
[49] Walter of Thérouanne, “Vita Karoli comitis, auctore Waltero archidiacono Tervanensi.” Edited by R. Köpke, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores 12 (Hannover, 1856), pp.537-61.
[50] Ross, trans., p.127.
[51] Ross, trans., p.110.
[52] Ross, trans., p.126.
[53] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.184.
[54] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.111.
Although Galbert of Bruges’s De multro, traditione, et occisione gloriosi Karoli comitis Flandriarum (hereafter De multro) may initially appear to the historian to be a straightforward contemporary eyewitness account of events surrounding the murder of Count Charles the Good of Flanders, questions surrounding its authorship have divided scholarly opinion. In his 1891 translation to the text, Henri Pirenne referred to Galbert both as a ‘naïve’ author and a ‘transparent everyman’ who simply relayed factual information that he had seen first-hand. This belief led Pirenne to argue that Galbert’s account of the murder of Charles the …show more content…
Good was; ‘written under the strong and immediate influence of the events it records [and] was not revised by its author. This means that it is utterly artless, written in absolute good faith. Its narrator speaks with an open heart. Nowhere does he try to denature the events. He notes them exactly as they are reported to him.’[1]
Pirenne’s thoughts would go on to influence James Bruce Ross – author of the only English translation of the text first published in 1959,[2] who saw the source as an ‘impersonal narration’ and noted Galbert’s ‘transparent honesty, loyalty and Christian piety.’ In creating his account.[3] Indeed, as Jeff Rider notes, this view of Galbert’s source as representing a neutral and unmediated account of events probably remains the predominant general perception of Galbert’s account.[4]
However, due to the rise of the study of narratology in the past few decades,[5] scholars have more recently begun to argue – especially within the Dutch historiography, that Galbert’s account is not as ‘utterly artless’ as Pirenne once thought.[6] This progression of thought has even led Rider to view Galbert’s De multro as a text that is so well crafted that its narrative devices appear unnoticeable; ‘The transparency of Galbert’s accounts is not the product of his not having reshaped what he perceived, but of his having reshaped it so completely; it is the transparency not of immediate perception, but of an ordered mind to itself.’[7]
There seems, therefore, to be an historiographical dichotomy towards the interpretation of Galbert’s De multro. On the one hand, historians of the Pirenne camp argue that Galbert’s account is representative of an author relaying historical events as he saw them in a purely objective way and with no mediation. Whilst on the other hand, historians such as Rider argue that the account is a wholly mediated one in which Galbert employs various narrative devices to manipulate the meaning of his account. This essay will therefore attempt to explore these two claims through an investigation of the extent to which the De multro can be seen to contain examples of narrative techniques and the effect that these devices have upon the audience’s interpretation of Galbert’s narrative.
It is significant to stop at this juncture and highlight the relevance of studying issues surrounding narrative theory within Galbert’s De multro. Most narratologists agree with the simple definition of an historical narrative as a representation of a series of factual events, which are mediated through the narrator’s use of literary devices.[8] Narratologists agree that it is this use of various narrative techniques that influences a reader’s interpretation of an historical representation. Indeed, as Hayden White notes, if a narrative does not include the narrative device of closure, for example, then it moves from an historical narrative simply to a chronicle; ‘it does not so much conclude as simply terminate.’[9] This then becomes important when we consider that through his rejection of Galbert’s work as a mediated narrative, Pirenne also rejects the De multro as being representative of a work of history.[10] The essay will therefore attempt to work on two levels. We will attempt to identify the extent to which Galbert’s account includes examples of narrative techniques, through which we will determine whether it is valid to view the text as a work of historical writing or, on the other hand, simply as a chronicle of events surrounding the murder of Charles in 1127.
However, as with any essay attempting to deal with such a broad issue as narrative theory, it becomes important here to delineate the boundaries of the study by establishing a clear programmatic. It is prudent to note that due to the complexity of the field of narratology, it would be impossible to cover all aspects of narrative theory within the constraints of this essay and for this reason we will be investigating only a few of the more prominent narrative devices that can be highlighted through specific examples within Galbert’s account. It is also important to note that as there is no single paradigmatical methodology through which to analyse a narrative,[11] the establishment of this essay’s programmatic is therefore wholly subjective. The essay will begin by examining the background Galbert’s De multro and his methodology in constructing the text before moving on to explore issues relating to the author’s use of narrative techniques. These include Galbert’s normalization of events through the establishment of a central conflict, his manipulation of time and space within the narrative, his use of motifs as proleptic devices throughout the text and finally an examination of Galbert’s own role as narrator within the De multro. It must also be pointed out that the essay will not attempt to explore the theoretical extremities of the field of narratology, but will instead attempt to pick out specific aspects of the theory that can be applied to examples within Galbert’s text.
Although scholarly views towards Galbert’s manipulation of his narrative are disputed, historians are in agreement that the De multro is unique in that it is the first and only journalistic history to emerge from the twelfth century. Indeed, Rider qualified it as ‘formally bizarre’[12] and Beryl Smalley labelled it a ‘precious freak of historiography’.[13] This is because Galbert’s account is made up of a prologue and 122 chapters, the bulk of which take the form of chronologically dated journal entries in which Galbert records the day-to-day events of the period directly after the murder of Count Charles the Good. The importance of the De multro’s form as a journalistic history becomes evident when we consider the methodology used in constructing the account. Very little is known about Galbert and his work outside of what he tells us mid-way through the source itself; ‘And it should be known that I, Galbert, a notary, though I had no suitable place for writing, set down on tablets a summary of events; I did this in the midst of such a great tumult and the burning of so many houses… and in the midst of so much danger by night and conflict by day. I had to wait for moments of peace during the night or day to set in order the present account of events as they happened, and in this way, though in great straits, I transcribed for the faithful what you see and read.’[14]
This is our first indication of Galbert’s awareness of his influence upon his account and the effect that his authorship has on the meaning of his narrative. The passage alerts the reader to the fact that the De multro was not simply written ‘under the immediate influence of events’ as Pirenne would have it, but was instead composed within an unmentioned time-period that Galbert notes as ‘moments of peace’. Rider points out Galbert’s own distinction between noting events down (notavi) on his wax tablets before later returning to write up these notes (scribendi) onto a parchment manuscript.[15] This is representative of the fact that Galbert implemented and was aware of a process of editing in the creation of his narrative. This editorial process is more explicitly mentioned in the same chapter when Galbert tells the audience that ‘I have not set down individual deeds because they were so numerous and so intermingled but only noted carefully what was decreed and done by common action…’[16] Galbert’s self awareness of his position as editor in the mediation of his narrative is similar to other medieval historians, such as when Suger tells the audience that ‘the full telling of it would need much detail, but we shall narrate it briefly to avoid being tedious…’ in his own account of the same events in Flanders in 1127.[17]
Another issue concerning Galbert’s creation of the De multro comes about when we consider the way in which the source was initially put together. As Ross notes in her useful introduction to the English translation Galbert composed the text in at least three distinct phases. The original day-to-day account of events beginning with the murder of Charles on 2 March 1127 and ending with the punishment of the traitors on 22 May 1127 was written at the time and constitutes chapters 15-67 and 72-85.[18] Once the ‘great tumult’ in Flanders had come to an end after 22 May 1127, Galbert then returned to revise his account in December of that year, adding an introduction, chapters 1-14 (a brief survey of Charles’s reign), chapters 68-71 (a genealogical interpolation explaining the familial backgrounds of Charles and the Erembalds) and an ‘epilogue’ concerning events that had occurred in the direct aftermath of the punishment of Charles’s murderers.[19] After civil strife returned to Flanders in the Spring of 1128, Galbert resumed his day-to-day account of events and added chapters 93-121 to his work, with the final chapter ‘undoubtedly’ being added later.[20] We can therefore see that the De multro cannot be considered as a text that was written ‘under the immediate influence of the events it records’. Even though the day-to-day journalistic entries may appear to be so, an investigation of the De multro reveals how this original account was revised and added to once Galbert knew the beginning, middle and end of the events (fabula) that he was representing.
An analysis of these revisions that Galbert made to his account in December 1127 after he knew this ‘end of the story’ – so to speak, reveals how he intended to ‘normalize’ the tumultuous events that took place between March and May through the establishment of a central conflict (agon). As most narratologists agree, narratives require an explanation of causation, normalization and closure to bring a sense of coherence and meaning to a representation of events.[21] Through the revisions that Galbert made to his account in the Winter of 1127, he was able to impose a sense of coherence and meaning to the events that he had recorded through the characterisation of Count Charles – and subsequently Gervaise de Praat as the protagonists and the Erembald clan and their accomplices as the antagonists that Galbert is able to frame his narrative and shape the meaning of the events that occurred in the wake of the count’s murder. Galbert’s own manipulation of his narrative in order to explain the causation of Charles’s murder on 2 March 1127 through this creation of the agon becomes particularly clear when we study the introductory chapters that he added to the text after the original fabula had ended – at least apparently to Galbert himself, after 22 May. Here Galbert’s establishment of the agon is particularly explicit through his use of emotive language and the audience is immediately made aware that this will be a narrative framed by the struggle between Charles (and later Gervaise) and the Erembalds and also between God and the Devil. ‘Those murderers and drunkards and whoremongers and slaves of all vices in our land certainly did not deserve to have as ruler such a good prince, devout and strong, Catholic, the supporter of the poor, the protector, after God, of the churches of God, the defender of the fatherland, and one in whom the residue of earthly authority assumed the form of ruling well and the substance of serving God. When the Devil saw the progress of the Church and the Christian faith, as you are about to hear, he undermined the stability of the land, that is, of the Church of God, and threw it into confusion by guile and treachery and the shedding of innocent blood.’[22]
The above example of the establishment of a central conflict in the text is therefore clearly demonstrable of how Galbert uses the narrative device of the agon to shape and frame the events that he witnessed in the Spring of 1127.
As we have alluded to in the previous example, Galbert’s portrayal of a moral message within his narrative is directly attributed to God’s pervasive influence upon the events throughout the text. The moral itself is explicitly mentioned by Galbert himself in the introduction he added to the text in his revisions, which again notifies us of the way in which he manipulates his narrative, adding meaning to the events that he accounted earlier that Spring; ‘Therefore I ask and admonish anyone who happens upon this dry style and this little handful of a book not to make fun of it or condemn it but to read with fresh wonder what is written down and what came to pass by the ordinance of God only in our time. And let no one renounce or betray earthly rulers whom we are bound to believe were placed over us by the ordinance of God, as the apostle says: “Let every soul be subject to every power, either to the king as supreme or to governors as sent by God.”’[23]
Galbert enhances the impact upon the audience of his intended message by tapping into the recognisable Biblical trope of divine vengeance being enacted to avenge old sins. This is particularly apparent in the genealogical interpolation that Galbert added to the De multro in December 1127 after a passage dealing with the siege of the castle of Oudenaarde on 17 April. In this four-chapter interlude, Galbert describes Robert the Frisian’s treacherous accession to the countship half a century prior to events surrounding Charles’s murder.[24] Here Galbert tells the audience how Robert had betrayed the young Count Arnold, who was slain by his own servants and is explicit in notifying the audience to the direct bearing that this has in explaining the murder of his relative Count Charles; ‘In connection with this deed the prophecy concerning past treachery should be noted: “Since God is wont in the severity of his punishment to correct the iniquities of the fathers unto the third and fourth generation.”’[25]
This is a clear example within the text of how Galbert went about manipulating the narrative in order to normalize the day-to-day events that he had recorded between March and May 1127. The fact that the interpolation was added to the account only once Galbert knew the ‘conclusion’ to the events surrounding the aftermath of Charles’s murder in December 1127 and the strong moral message that it carries shows us Galbert’s desire to normalize these events through his imposition of a sense of causality to the narrative.
It must also be pointed out that this notion of divine vengeance upon sins committed by the characters’ ancestors is also extended to the Erembald clan and is used to explain their own demise. After explaining the cause behind Charles’s own murder, Galbert, in the very same interpolation, applies the same reasoning to the eventual execution of the antagonists. In the short chapter, Galbert tells us how the clan’s ancestor and patriarch Erembald gained the castellany of Bruges through adulterous and treacherous means, by murdering Boldran, the castellan of Bruges; ‘This was done, in fact, while the others were asleep, and no one but the adulterer knew what had become of the castellan who had been drowned without heirs.’[26]
As with Charles’s murder, Galbert goes on to make explicit the link between Erembald’s treachery and the divine vengeance that was enacted upon his successors, the antagonists of his tale; ‘On Erembald’s return he married the adulteress, and bought the office of castellan with the plentiful resources of his lord. By this time he begot the provost, Bertulf, and Hacket, Wulfric Cnop, Lambert Nappin, the father of Borsiard, and also Robert, castellan after him in the second place. After Robert, his son Walter succeeded as heir to the office of castellan in the third place. After him, Hacket was castellan, in whose time Count Charles was betrayed. In this fourth degree, therefore, the earlier precipitation of Boldran was punished in the persons of Erembald’s successors by this new precipitation which was accomplished for the sins of their parents, as it is read in Exodus, where God speaks to Moses in the thirty-fourth chapter of the same Exodus where God gives out the laws for all saying: “I, the lord your God, am a jealous God , visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the sons, even unto the third and fourth generation of those who hate me.’”’[27]
Although the De multro contains many other examples of Galbert’s us of normalization within his narrative, it is this example his explanation of the murder of Charles and the execution of the Erembalds through his use of the Biblical trope of divine retribution that best demonstrates Galbert’s own manipulation of his the events he recorded within his narrative when he came back to revise his original day-to-day account.
An analysis even of the day-to-day accounts reveals that they are not simply written in the style of a chronicle, but are instead carefully crafted and shaped using narrative devices.
One of the most prominent examples of these is Galbert’s manipulation of time and the diegetic space within his account. This is particularly visible in the chapter relating to the direct aftermath of Charles’s murder when the Erembalds and their accomplices are searching throughout the castle of Bruges for their remaining enemies. Galbert’s narratological art is perhaps best seen here through the way in which he extends what Chatman calls the internal ‘chrono-logic’[28] with his protracted description of the death of Themard, the castellan of Bourbourg. This strange and drawn out account of the castellan’s death begins with Galbert simply telling us that; ‘They also killed the castellan of Bourbourg. First wounding him mortally, they afterward dragged him ignobly by his feet from the gallery into which he had gone up with the count, to the doors of the church and dismembered him outside with their swords. This castellan, however, after making confession of his sins to the priests of that very church, received the body and blood of Christ according to Christian
custom.’[29]
After leaving the castellan ‘at the point of death in the gallery’, Galbert describes how the murderers moved out of the church to pursue their enemies in the castle before returning the narrative focus back to the unfortunate castellan; ‘At the same moment, there fell into the hands of the traitors two sons of the castellan of Bourbourg who meanwhile was confessing his sins to the priests in the gallery of the church…As soon as they had heard of the murder of the count and their father they tried to flee…’[30]
However, Galbert yet again returns to the death of the castellan in the following chapter when after pursuing their enemies through Bruges, the murderers search for their most hated enemy, Walter of Loker; ‘For when the nephews of the provost and that most criminal of men, Borsiard, with their accomplices, returned to the castle immediately after the flight of their enemies, he and his knights hunted for Walter of Loker whom they hated most of all…Now they rushed through the doors into the church, and running around with their swords bare and still dripping, with great noise and clash of arms, they searched among the chests and benches of the brothers of the church, calling Walter by name, and they found the castellan of Bourbourg, whom they had mortally wounded in the gallery, still breathing. Then they finally killed him, after dragging him by the feet to the doors of the church. While he was dying in the gallery he had given his ring to the abbess of Origny to bear to his wife as a sign of his death and as a token of the requests which he had made, through the abbess, to his wife and sons, whose death he did not know about until after his own death.’[31]
It cannot therefore be argued that Galbert’s account is an artless one as the chronology of the death of the castellan of Bourbourg is manipulated so as to allow other aspects of the narrative to come through. After we are simply told that ‘they also killed the castellan of Bourbourg’ at the start of chapter 16, Galbert protracts his death so as to interweave the various other narratives of the murderers searching around the castle for their enemies, the pursuit of his own sons around Bruges and the capture and murder of Walter of Loker. Even then, Galbert later returns to show the dying castellan giving his ring to the abbess of Origny, which as Rider notes, would have been the sign through which Galbert himself would have known of the castellan’s death.[32] If it were true that Galbert’s De multro was utterly artless, then the first line of the passages shown above would have sufficed in telling the audience that the castellan of Bourbourg was murdered. Instead, Galbert uses his death as a narrative device through which to open up and interconnect a series of other narratives.
Chapters 16 and 17 also reveal Galbert’s use of diegetical space and the way in which he uses smaller narratives and selectively orders them so as to propel his overarching narrative. As we have mentioned above, the death of the castellan of Bourbourg was punctuated by a series of pursuits by the murderers of their enemies. It is interesting to note the way in which Galbert is able to chop and change the focus of his narrative through close use of these interwoven pursuit narratives and through the sense of distance away from the castle that they create before returning the focus to events in the castle. The first of these narratives involves Henry, who does not make it out of the castle itself; ‘They pursued into the count’s house a certain knight named Henry whom Borsiard suspected of the death of his brother Robert. He threw himself at the feet of the castellan, Hacket, who had just gone into the house with his men to take possession of it and who now took Henry and the brother of Walter of Loker under his protection and saved them from their attackers.’[33]
Galbert’s second pursuit narrative then takes the audience diegetically to the outer walls of Bruges; ‘At the same moment, there fell into the hands of the traitors two sons of the castellan of Bourbourg…As soon as they had heard of the murder of the count and their father they tried to flee, but the wretched traitors, going after them on horseback, pursued them to the Sands at the exit of the town. A wicked knight named Eric, one of those who had betrayed the count, pulled one of the brothers off the horse on which he was fleeing and then together with the pursuers slew him. The other brother, who was rushing in flight to the threshold of his lodgings, they came upon face to face and pierced him through with their swords.’[34]
The diegetical distance from the castle is then extended even further in the third and final pursuit where Richard of Woumen is chased ‘for a mile’ and then escapes capture. It is at this point that Galbert’s art is revealed, as he uses this failed pursuit to shift the narrative focus back to events within castle of Bruges; ‘The traitors, frustrated in their pursuit, returned to the castle where the clergy and people of our place had poured in and were wandering around, stunned by what had happened.’[35]
Through an analysis of how these pursuits fit into the narrative, we can clearly see them as devices used by Galbert. As Rider notes, there must surely have been more than three pursuits, but Galbert selects them and more importantly then orders them so as to create an increasing the diegetical distance from the castle before using the failed capture of Richard and the subsequent ‘frustration’ of the pursuers to return the narrative focus back to events in the castle.[36]
Another literary device that is often central to narratives is that of prolepsis, or the foreshadowing of events.[37] When analysing the De multro we can see Galbert’s use of prolepsis through the inclusion of certain motifs that run throughout the text. The inclusion of these motifs is a fundamental indicator of Galbert’s revisions to his original account in December 1127, as prolepsis as a narrative device cannot be achieved without first knowing the outcome of certain events and then returning to foreshadow these outcomes earlier in the text. Although there exist many examples of this use of prolepsis in the De multro we have chosen to look at two specific examples in detail, the motif of the silver cup and that of the Erembalds’ death by precipitation.
We are first exposed to the motif of the silver cup in chapter 16, when Galbert tells us how Count Charles had bought a silver cup in the market of Ypres; ‘…the count had bought from them for twenty-one marks a silver vessel which was marvellously made so that the liquid which it held disappeared as one looked at it.’[38]
The fact that Charles had bought a silver cup at first seems to the audience to be an aside by Galbert, but it as his narrative progresses it becomes clear that it is a motif through which he directs a critique of the ignorance, greed and venality of certain clergy members. The first return of the silver cup motif then comes when Louis IV of France searches for Count Charles’s lost treasure. Galbert uses the motif to mock the credulity of certain clergy when Helias, the dean of Saint Donatian hides Charles’s treasure with a priest after he had been given the vessels by the treacherous provost, Bertulf, tricking him into believing that the silver cup is instead a saint’s relic; ‘The dean had entrusted that chest to the care of a certain simple priest, Eggard, in the church of the Holy Saviour, indicating that it should be venerated as though it contained the most precious relics. How devoutly, in fact, that simple priest had received the chest and how, having placed it in the sanctuary, he poured forth prayers and begged for the salvation of his soul…every night he placed before it tallow candles, wax candles, and lights and lighted lamps, believing he could not venerate those relics enough. (That priest had really done enough to deserve a drink or more of good wine from those vessels when they were handed over to the new count!)[39]
Galbert then brings back the silver cup motif later in his narrative to expose what he perceives as the corruption of the same dean Helias; ‘On May 7, Saturday, the dean, Helias, handed over to the new count the silver vessel and the golden goblet, with the golden cover, belonging to Count Charles which the provost, Bertulf, had entrusted to the dean when he took flight…Many people marvelled at the artlessness of the dean Helias, how he had feigned the appearance of sanctity and simplicity, for although he had lived heretofore as if he were rigorous in sanctity, he had certainly strayed from the path in receiving this loot, since it is forbidden by the authority of God: “You shall not touch the unclean.” For he gave the treasure up unwillingly to the count, showing in this way how much he had loved his loot. He also said that the provost Bertulf had given those vessels to Saint Donatian for the salvation of his soul, believing he could in this way plead his innocence. In this matter we all knew perfectly well that the provost had received the count’s vessels for his own use in the division of the treasure, and when he was unable to carry them with him in flight, he left that wretched loot to his dean.’[40]
It is when we consider that Galbert would only have discovered about the story of the silver cup upon the revelations concerning the count’s treasure of 21 May 1127 in chapter 85 that we can see how he must have inserted the apparent paratext of Charles buying the cup at Ypres back in chapter 16 as a proleptic device. Although it is possible that the initial aside mentioning the cup could have been coincidental, it is much more plausible to argue that it is actually a carefully crafted motif with the purpose of foreshadowing certain events that occur later in the account.
Another clear example of Galbert’s use of prolepsis can be seen through the use of the motif of falling which foreshadows the antagonists’ deaths by precipitation. As with the motif of the silver cup, this motif could only have been added to the De multro in Galbert’s revisions, once he had been witness to the execution of the Erembalds on 22 May 1127 by this ‘novel’ form of death.[41] The principal example of this motif can bee seen when Galbert describes the original sin committed by the ancestor Erembald, whose crime is used to foreshadow the punishment of his successors; ‘When the silence of night had fallen, and the castellan had gone to the rim of the ship to urinate, Erembald, running up behind, precipitated his lord into the depths of the rushing water, far from the ship.’[42]
Of course, it is highly implausible to suggest that Galbert would have known that Erembald had ‘precipitated’ Boldran from the ship and we must therefore argue that the passage (which we already know was added to the account as a later revision) is a cleverly crafted motif used by the author to foreshadow the deaths of the traitors.
This proleptic falling motif is also employed by Galbert at various other points throughout the text to signify the moral and the eventual physical precipitation of the antagonists. In chapter 26, Galbert tells us of the antagonists that; ‘…God had so blinded them that they no longer possessed any reason or prudence, but, cast down into every kind of evil and drunk with wrath and rage, they went astray in fear and dread, both those who had betrayed the count, and those who were lending them aid.’[43]
The antagonists’ death by precipitation is further pre-empted in chapter 41 when one of the traitors, Gilbert, tries to flee, but instead slid over the castle walls and fell to his death.[44] Galbert uses his motif so explicitly that he even introduces a prophetic omen to his account of the siege of the perpetrators in the castle; ‘Now when the bowmen among the besieged were aiming their arrows at the workmen from their position on the summit of the tower and the strings of the drawn bows were vibrating, a certain bow with its arrow in place fell from the hands of a bowman just in the act of drawing. This was observed by the knights, who were standing by… and they prophesised a most unlucky consequence of the fall of the bow and arrow from the besieged.’[45]
Galbert’s use of the falling motif in his account is both so frequent and explicit that he creates in the audience a sense of inevitability towards the murderers’ death by precipitation by the time it actually comes around in chapter 81.[46]
As we noted in the introduction, there is an existing view in the scholarship that argues Galbert’s position as a neutral and objective narrator. However, close analysis of the way that Galbert attempts to influence the meaning of his narrative places Pirenne’s belief that he wrote under the immediate influence of events under scrutiny. The most striking example of this is when Galbert assumes the role of omniscient narrator in trying to exculpate Robert the Young from the murder, as he was loved by the people of Bruges and by Galbert himself. In one of the introductory chapters added when Galbert sat down and revised his original account, he describes how Robert was effectively tricked into the plot surrounding the murder of Charles; ‘Then the provost and his nephews withdrew into an inner room and summoned those whom they wanted… and they summoned the young Robert to join the crime, urging him to pledge his hand that he would share with them what they were about to do… But the noble young man, forewarned by the virtue of his soul and perceiving the gravity of what they were urging upon him, resisted them, not wishing to be drawn unwittingly into their compact until he could find out what it was they had bound themselves to do.’[47]
After being threatened by Isaac and William and coerced into joining the pact, Galbert tells us how Robert was informed of their plot to murder the count to which; ‘…the young man, struck with terror and dissolved in tears, cried out: “God forbid that we should betray one who is our lord and the count of the fatherland. Believe me, if you do not give this up, I shall go and openly reveal your treachery to the count and to everyone, and, God willing, I shall never lend aid and counsel to this pact!”’[48]
Again, it would be highly improbable to suggest that Galbert had actually witnessed the events surrounding the forming of the plot to murder Count Charles, therefore we must view his exculpation of Robert as a way of influencing the meaning of day-to-day account of events that he had recorded through his addition of this introductory passage. It is when we consider that Walter of Thérouanne’s[49] contemporary account that was written outside of Bruges itself does not project the same sympathy towards Robert that we can clearly see Galbert’s influence upon the meaning of his narrative through his attempt to exculpate Robert, whom he was so fond of.
This notion of Galbert’s fabrication of events to suit the intended message of his narrative can also be applied to his inclusion of direct speech at various points throughout the text. One such example comes when Galbert describes how Walter of Loker pleaded with his captors before being thrown to the serfs to be killed; ‘Walter, now captive and sure of death, went along crying, “Have pity on me, oh Lord!” They answered him, saying: “We must repay you with the kind of pity you have deserved from us!”’[50]
Whether Galbert was actually present at the capture of Walter is highly dubious and so we must therefore argue that he once again assumes here the position of omniscient narrator. Through appropriating the direct speech of the characters of Walter and his captors, Galbert is able to use it to suit his intended message. By showing Walter crying out piously to God, Galbert establishes Walter as the hero figure and through the same use of direct speech, shows his captors as mocking him mercilessly. The same appropriation of direct speech can be seen with the capture of Fromold Junior and is representative of Galbert’s mediating influence as narrator within his text.
It is also interesting to note the dramatic effect that Galbert’s use of language creates within the text, as it shows us that this is not an artless account, but instead a carefully fashioned one. Instead of merely reporting factual events in the form of a chronicle, we have seen how in previous examples Galbert’s use of language has a diegetical effect and thus shapes the audience’s interpretation of these events. In the opening chapters we are told how the conspirators sealed the plot ‘safe in the cover of darkness’.[51] The audience is then placed directly within the text through the diegetical effect of Galbert’s language in his account of Walter of Loker’s hiding and subsequent capture that we have already mentioned above. Galbert makes the audience aware of Walter’s feelings of anxiety and confusion by placing the narrative voice itself within the organ case that he is hiding in. This is achieved through the diegesis that is created through Galbert’s vivid description of the ‘noise of arms’ of the murderers that would have been audible to the terrified Walter.[52] Such a vivid description of events does not fit with the view of the source as utterly artless, but instead, when considered carefully, reveals that Galbert’s use of language is intended to create a strong diegetical effect.
Finally, we must return to the structure of the De multro to shed light on Galbert’s narrative authority over his account. It is when we consider that the secondary account of day-to-day events that Galbert resumed in 1128 only constitutes 25 pages of the De multro compared to the 102 page account of 1127 that we can clearly see the extent to which Galbert came back to and revised his original account of events in 1127. Although the reasons behind this difference in length has been attributed to Galbert’s eventual failure by 1128 to secure patronage for his work,[53] its importance for the purposes of this essay can be seen simply in the fact that the account of 1127 is a carefully revised and therefore crafted one, compared to the more unrefined account of 1128.
In conclusion, therefore, where then does the argument of Galbert’s De multro being an utterly artless account of the murder of Charles the Good stand? Although this study could not hope to investigate every aspect of the text, the specific examples we have selected are demonstrable of Galbert’s deployment of a wide array of narratological devices in his account through which he influences the meaning of his narrative. We have clearly seen that Galbert attempts to normalize the events of 1127 in particular by explaining them through divine providence, is able to manipulate the internal chronology of his narrative and uses the narratological device of prolepsis to foreshadow future events through his use of distinct motifs. Although the constraints of the essay have limited the wider study of Galbert’s position as narrator within the text, we have pointed to his clear subjectivity leading to his manipulation of the narrative through the example of his exculpation of Robert the Young. We must argue that Galbert’s ability to impose a sense of causality, normalization and closure amongst many other narrative devices within his account lead us to view the text as a carefully crafted history rather than simply a chronicle of the events in Flanders in 1127-1128. Where then does this place us within the historiographical dichotomy of Pirenne and Rider’s views? It is perhaps true to suggest that the earlier historians such as Pirenne, Ross and Smalley have tended to confuse the journalistic format of Galbert’s De multro with the fact that it is a thoroughly revised and mediated work. Although it is true to refer to the source as a ‘precious freak of historiography’, one should not therefore assume that Galbert was simply influenced by the events surrounding him. On the contrary, whereas it is perhaps too far to follow Rider’s view as the De multro as a ‘seamlessly’ crafted work,[54] it remains true to counter Pirenne’s argument that instead of being directly influenced by events, it was Galbert himself who exercised an influence over the events of 1127-1128 through his deployment of various narrative devices.
Word Count: 4,725 (without quotations)
Bibliography
Primary Sources:
Galbert of Bruges, The Murder of Charles the Good, trans. J. B. Ross (Toronto, 1982).
Suger, The Deeds of Louis the Fat, trans. R. C. Cusimano and J. Moorhead (Washington, DC, 1992).
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J. Dhont, ‘Medieval “Solidarities”: Flemish Society in Transition, 1127-1128’, in F. L. Cheyette (ed.), Lordship and Community on Medieval Europe (New York, 1975), pp.268-289.
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J. B. Ross, ‘Rise and Fall of a Twelfth-Century Clan: The Erembalds and the Murder of Count Charles of Flanders, 1127-1128’, Speculum, 34 (1959), pp.367-90.
B. Smalley, Historians in the Middle Ages (London, 1974).
P. J. M. Sturgess, Narrativity: Theory and Practice (Oxford, 1992).
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[1] H. Pirenne, Histoire du meurtre de Charles le Bon, Comte de Flandre, 1127-1128 (Paris, 1891), pp.viii, xiii.
[2] Galbert of Bruges, The Murder of Charles the Good, trans. J. B. Ross (Toronto, 1982). Hereafter Ross, trans.
[3] Ross, trans., pp.63, 75.
[4] J. Rider, God’s Scribe: The Historiographical Art of Galbert of Bruges (Washington, DC, 2001), p.5.
[5] P. J. M. Sturgess, Narrativity: Theory and Practice (Oxford, 1992), p.3.
[6] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.7.
[7] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.111.
[8] H. P. Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative (Cambridge, 2002), pp.12, 16.
[9] H. White, The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation (London, 1989), p.5.
[10] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.4.
[11] Sturgess, Narrativity, p.5.
[12] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.1.
[13] B. Smalley, Historians in the Middle Ages (London, 1974), p.107.
[14] Ross, trans., p.164.
[15] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.31.
[16] Ross, trans., p.164.
[17] Suger, The Deeds of Louis the Fat, trans. R. C. Cusimano and J. Moorhead (Washington, DC, 1992), p.138.
[18] Ross, trans., p.64.
[19] Ross, trans., p.65.
[20] Ross, trans., p.65.
[21] Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction, p.40; White, Content, pp.3-5.
[22] Ross, trans., p.81.
[23] Ross, trans., p.80.
[24] Ross, trans., pp.231-40.
[25] Ross, trans., p.237.
[26] Ross, trans., p.239.
[27] Ross, trans., pp.239-40.
[28] Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction, p.40; White, Content, p.14.
[29] Ross, trans., p.121.
[30] Ross, trans., p.121.
[31] Ross, trans., pp.125-26.
[32] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.95.
[33] Ross, trans., p.121.
[34] Ross, trans., pp.121-22.
[35] Ross, trans., p.122.
[36] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.96.
[37] G. Genette, Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method, trans. J. E. Lewin (New York, 1980), p.40.
[38] Ross, trans., p.124.
[39] Ross, trans., pp.219-20.
[40] Ross, trans., pp.253-54.
[41] Rider, God’s Scribe, pp.82-83.
[42] Ross, trans., pp.239.
[43] Ross, trans., p.148.
[44] Ross, trans., p.175.
[45] Ross, trans., p.214.
[46] Ross, trans., p.250.
[47] Ross, trans., p.109.
[48] Ross, trans., pp.109-10.
[49] Walter of Thérouanne, “Vita Karoli comitis, auctore Waltero archidiacono Tervanensi.” Edited by R. Köpke, Monumenta Germaniae Historica, Scriptores 12 (Hannover, 1856), pp.537-61.
[50] Ross, trans., p.127.
[51] Ross, trans., p.110.
[52] Ross, trans., p.126.
[53] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.184.
[54] Rider, God’s Scribe, p.111.