Multilingualism and crusade preaching: the narrative on Bernard of Clairvaux’s preaching in Germany^*

Abstract

This article examines a specific historiographical account relating how Bernard of Clairvaux (c.1090–1153) preached the second crusade (1145–9) in front of a German audience that was incapable of understanding the language of his sermon (depending on the version, Latin or French).¹ This story first appeared in the Vita of Bernard penned by Geoffrey of Auxerre (c.1115–after 1189), that is, the Vita Prima, an essential text for the abbot’s canonization in 1174 (in its second redaction, completed in the 1160s).² The story was recycled in other Vitae (those by Alan of Auxerre and John Pinus) as well as in several texts that were devoted to instructing preaching activities. It is present in two works of the important Parisian reformer Peter the Chanter (c.1130–97), the Verbum Abbreviatum and his collection of Distinctiones; and in three works of the well-known Gerald of Wales (c.1146–1223), the Gemma Ecclesiastica, his autobiography and a letter to the bishop of St. David’s.³

This was thus a popular story by the late twelfth century, critically among authors who were engaged in both the reform movement around the early university of Paris and the mobilization of the third crusade (1187–92).⁴ Its original author was still around at the time, based in the abbey of Clairvaux, and writing his sermons on John’s Revelation, which refer to crusading activities.⁵ It is plausible that he actively promoted the story; he did so with other materials both from and on Bernard. Geoffrey’s version is doubtlessly the earliest, and considering the Vita’s role for Bernard’s commemoration, one can safely assume that his text served the others as a source.⁶

Therefore, the story’s original context, the preaching of the second crusade, was certainly familiar to all the authors, even if they then resituated the story in another context. This article is devoted to comparing the different versions, since these reveal changes in meaning that indicate a shifting purpose. Deploying the principles of a discourse analysis, this considers how a new context may alter a text’s meaning.⁷ The article’s focus will be on the versions that place it in a new context; the two other Vitae are similar to the original and hence of minor interest. A discourse analysis understands texts as productive forces that shape a historical reality, that is, the perception of historical protagonists. Each discourse (and the texts belonging to it) stems from specific goals and interests; these are the very reason why these texts are produced. Two discourses will concern us in the following pages: the reputation of Bernard and the failure of the second crusade.

The disastrous outcome of the second crusade posed a providential enigma to contemporary observers, because clerics and most notably Bernard had presented the endeavour beforehand as God’s will. The failure called once again for answers by those who claimed to understand God’s ways.⁸ As will be shown, the story at stake entangles this issue with the multilingual challenges that crusade preachers encountered. In light of the pan-European dissemination of the recruitment effort, one wonders how communication worked beyond lingual borders and beyond the (educated) clergy – when Latin was not sufficient.⁹ Bernard, a French abbot, preached the crusade in Germany, since his popularity promised the potential for rich mobilization. However, he encountered the practical problem that he and his audience did not share a common language. The recipients of this story belonged to a highly international and multilingual milieu, and they had the goal of broadcasting their messages to a similarly broad spectrum of audiences. Yet the bulk of their addressees, including secular princes and the simple parish clergy, did not share their multilingual skills.¹⁰ It is also worth noting that multilingualism possessed negative connotations due to prevailing exegetical interpretations of the story of the tower of Babel (Gen. 11). Diversity of languages thus denoted a divine punishment; it marked the defective state of terrestrial existence, which had been generated by the Fall of Mankind.¹¹

Bernard had been the principal preacher of the second crusade, and therefore he became a target after its failure. Some authors even understood the expedition’s preaching as the work of the Antichrist.¹² As a result, the abbot’s canonization was by no means clear – and it took twenty years despite first efforts immediately after his death. Bernard, however, developed an explanation that threw the indictment back onto his accusers: the crusade had failed peccatis nostris exigentibus (due to our sins). God punished the Christians for not having been prepared spiritually. Victory in the Holy Land, which was equal to securing one’s personal salvation, would have been undeserved.¹³ Even though this explanation built on biblical roots (such as Jud. 11:8 or 2 Macc. 7:32) and was already used, for instance, for explaining the Islamic expansion in the seventh century,¹⁴ it generated novel and meaningful historical consequences when it was applied in this new context. Bernard’s powerful explanation redirected the attention towards the corruption within Christendom: to one’s own sins, to the shortcomings of an uneducated parish clergy and to inner enemies. It developed into the most important strategy for rationalizing misfortune in the East – even though there remains potential for clarifying whose sins were responsible or at precisely which point a crusade was doomed to fail. The following decades saw thus both the promotion of an elaborate reform agenda and first anti-heretical efforts: a broad range of Paris masters and Cistercians became engaged in such activities, the so-called circle of Peter the Chanter or biblical-moral school.¹⁵ This development unveils a notable tension between mobilizing for the East and the endeavour’s spiritual preparation in the West that would become constitutive for the crusade movement.¹⁶ This tension surfaces intriguingly in our story.

The strategies for rationalizing failure point to an idiosyncratic discourse: authors explained how the events could have developed in such a way, thereby reproaching specific circumstances or protagonists, but they rarely questioned the validity of crusading itself. This, however, has sometimes been claimed by modern scholars, notably Martin Aurell, who misread any shortcomings that authors addressed as an essentialist or pacifist critique of crusading (as epitomized in his book’s title).¹⁷ The idea is that these authors tried to minimize the phenomenon or to prevent people from participating, but the logic of peccatis nostris exigentibus says precisely the opposite: a new attempt is needed, but this time preceded by sufficient spiritual and liturgical preparation. This is evident with Bernard himself, who tried already in 1150 to organize a new expedition – though this did not succeed. It is also visible in his own argumentation in De consideratione (his defence written after the venture), where he compares the crusaders to the Old Testament Israelites, who, after failing twice on the battlefield against the tribe of Benjamin, were successful on the third attempt thanks to appropriate penitential preparations (a story found in Jud. 20).¹⁸ Authors disapproved of the ways and means of how a crusade unfolded, of the behaviour of specific participants, and of insufficient liturgical preparation (which was meant to diminish sin and to gain God’s favour), but they rarely went beyond that. The misguided scholarly perception represents an excellent example of how modern assumptions can obscure the approach to a historical phenomenon, which is always best understood according to its own idiosyncratic logics. The story addressed in the following pages delivers another example of where modern assumptions have engendered significant misunderstandings.

Prior to the second crusade, Bernard covered several regions in France and Germany for the purpose of recruiting participants. The Vita Prima offers the most extensive account of these activities, in particular books three to five, those parts penned by his close friend and secretary Geoffrey of Auxerre.¹⁹ Book three contains our story, that is, a short but significant tale of the preaching tour, before discussing some lines later the expedition itself. Book four, on the other hand, delivers an elaborate report of the tour that records numerous miracles. Nowhere else in this vast work occur more miracles than prior to the second crusade, a fact that Geoffrey underlines already in book three.²⁰ Beth Spacey argued that medieval texts interlocked a crusade’s preaching with miracles, in order to demonstrate divine approval.²¹ This finding thus unveils the providential nature Geoffrey ascribed to the venture, even after its failure – and he was not unique in this regard.²² His Vita secured his beloved teacher’s canonization, and it is telling that the second crusade’s preaching plays therein a prominent role. Its failure, however, does not; it is simply not present.²³ Yet it is difficult to imagine that later recipients did not have the disastrous outcome in mind when reading this tale, a memory that loomed so large that it diminished crusade efforts for decades, just as it left a stain on Bernard’s reputation.²⁴

The pertinent story is found at the outset of book three; it is preceded by an extensive praise of Bernard’s virtues, in particular his preaching skills. The story serves as an exemplum for these. It heralds a treatment of the second crusade, whereby Geoffrey shows what Bernard’s preaching was able to cause (expressed with, for example, uerbum hoc praedicauit Domino cooperante).²⁵ The paragraph that separates the story from the second crusade’s treatment continues with praising his preaching skills. This happens overall in a generic fashion, without referring to specific events or occasions. The only exceptions are when the text broaches the crusade purpose, for example, by stating that Bernard went ‘to war’, since such issues weighed heavily on the people at the time. He thus hoped to diminish their burden (processurus ad bellum, bellica arma sibi grauiora causatus est, utpote quibus multos suo praesertim tempore cerneret praegrauari).²⁶ Similarly, the text says that Bernard rarely left the monastery for the purpose of preaching – unless a specific occasion necessitated it (raro tamen, nec nisi ad loca proxima, ut praedicaret exiuit; sed quoties eum necessitas aliqua traheret), noting that a papal mandate prompted him to do so (ex mandato summi pontificis actitabat). This in all likelihood refers to Eugenius III’s encyclical that called for the second crusade.²⁷

The story’s context, therefore, emphasizes Bernard’s abilities and achievements, against the backdrop of the expedition’s failure – since his reputation was still under negotiation in the 1160s.²⁸ But now it is time to turn to the story itself:

Therefore, it happened that also the German people heard him preaching with wonderful passion. And it seemed that their devotion was edified more by Bernard’s sermon (which they could not understand inasmuch as they were people of another tongue) than by a most skilful person, who preached in the understandable speech of an eloquent interpreter. Bernard let them feel the virtue of his words: the fact that they beat their chests and shed tears displayed a firm approval of his cause.²⁹

Geoffrey notes that Bernard did not speak German, but thanks to a most skilful (peritissimus) translator, the audience understood the sermon. The relationship between the two is one of successful co-operation, but Bernard is more effective (expressed with magis quam), simply because he is Bernard and this is his Vita.³⁰ As discussed, the Vita conceives of the preaching tour in highly miraculous terms. This is clear in the first sentence: Bernard speaks miro affectu, wherefore they could ‘feel the virtue (or power) of his words’ (verborum sentire virtutem). The term virtus may likewise be translated as ‘miracle’.³¹ The audience’s emotional reaction was a firm approval (certa probatio) of Bernard’s mission. Geoffrey’s story insists that the crusade’s failure was inconceivable at this point.³²

It is certainly not a coincidence that Geoffrey included this story before addressing the delicate subject of the second crusade. His extensive treatment of the expedition demonstrates that its memory was omnipresent – Bernard’s reputation would doubtlessly have looked better omitting this episode, but the contemporary discourse did not permit this.³³ Consequently, Geoffrey includes a story showing how Bernard successfully preached the crusade: he co-operated with a translator, who did a good job, in Geoffrey’s opinion.³⁴ The story argues, therefore, that Bernard was not responsible for the crusade’s failure, but also, it seems, that he was not responsible for coping insufficiently with multilingual challenges. This was perhaps perceived as a cause for the expedition’s failure – we shall return to this. The story’s context reveals its entanglement with the providential problem of failure: as we will see below, this original context is key for understanding what other authors made of it. A few lines after having dealt with the second crusade, Geoffrey also refers to the Christian capture of Ascalon in 1153, which he attributes not to human but to divine virtue (non humana virtute capta est, sed divina).³⁵ The event serves him as providential evidence; it proves that the endeavour in the East was still God’s will – and that Bernard was thus right. Others have sinned; others have failed.³⁶ But who, exactly? The other versions may provide an answer.

Peter the Chanter, Verbum Abbreviatum:³⁷

In Holy Scripture, the deeds speak more than words: Deliver the deeds, and you will be safe. In Scripture, these also persuade more than words. This is demonstrated by Bernard’s example of preaching to nuns: In the beginning of his sermon, he fell silent by reason of their sins. After they had done penance and confessed (their sins), the shower of Holy Scripture rained on them from heaven. Similar is Bernard’s example of preaching to the German people and moving them to tears, even though they were unable to understand him. Thereafter, a certain monk, a most skilful interpreter, retraced his sermon – but as he was speaking, they were not moved at all. Thus, who is not on fire, does not inflame [an audience] – that is why God often closes the mouths of the prophets due to the sins of the people.³⁸

Peter the Chanter, Verbum Abbreviatum, Textus alter:

Similarly, in this matter, the example of the blessed Bernard of Clairvaux is compelling: While he preached to the Germans despite the fact that they did not understand him, he took hold of the eyes and hearts of everybody. After they had only heard his voice, but certainly not understood him, he moved them all to tears; therein worked the sanctity of life, as it has been identified in this man. A certain black monk explained his sermon in the German language, word for word and with a remarkable eloquence; and yet, he was mocked and ridiculed by everybody, since his words differed from his life … Therefore, God often closes the mouths of the preachers due to the sins of the people. The preacher often falls silent and his words belie him. Even though he is eloquent, his guilty conscience impedes his mission.³⁹

Peter the Chanter, Distinctiones:⁴⁰

Similarly, it is said elsewhere: Who teaches and preaches well, but lives badly, offers his tongue to God, but his soul to the devil. Nowadays, many teach with words, but they destroy everything through their example. Life teaches more than books; works teach more than words; good reputation more than speech. Therefore, the venerable Bernard, well remembered when he preached the word in Latin among the Germans, moved them all to tears – even though they did not understand his words. After he had finished his sermon, a well-educated man explained the same sermon very clearly, yet he moved nobody else to tears.⁴¹

Gerald of Wales, Gemma Ecclesiastica:

Similar is the example about the blessed Bernard who preached the word of the Lord to the Germans, using the Gallic language, with which they were thoroughly unfamiliar. He instilled in them such a devotion and remorse that a flow of tears was pouring out of their eyes, and at everything he advised them to do and to believe, he very easily softened the hardness of their hearts. But nobody was moved in any way at the sermon of the interpreter, who explained to them faithfully each of his words. It is thus obvious that Bernard also preached more on the basis of deeds than (vain) words.⁴²

The narrative’s overall shape and information remain the same, a fact that substantiates the hypothesis that they all used Geoffrey’s Vita. However, there are deviations in the details. Peter emphasizes that the translator was excellent (optimus interpres) and a well-educated man (quidam bene litteratus). Gerald similarly claims that he translated faithfully word for word (lingua sua singula fideliter exponere).⁴³ And yet, surprisingly, the transmission of Bernard’s message seems to fail in all the versions as opposed to Geoffrey’s original story. Instead of portraying an augmentation between a dreary translator and an inflamed Bernard, the later versions construct a sharp contrast between the two. This finds its sharpest expression in the Textus alter: the interpreter fails despite explaining word for word with remarkable eloquence (miro eloquio uerbo ad uerbum exposuit). The audience even mocks and ridicules him (habitus est ab omnibus derisui et ostentatui) – in the other versions, it remains simply unimpressed and passive. The fierce reaction in the one version indicates that this translator embodies some kind of serious issue.

Gerald’s account claims that Bernard’s listeners were able to understand ‘everything he advised them to do and to believe’ (cuncta quae suadebat vel facienda vel credenda) – despite speaking a different language. This is reminiscent of Geoffrey’s miraculous account. However, Gerald’s conclusion does not explain the incident as a miracle: Bernard was successful because he used not only (vain) words but ‘the things’ or ‘the deeds’ (rebus hic quoque plusquam verbis actum fuit). Vice versa, the interpreter translated faithfully, but he failed in transmitting the sense or message behind the words, since he was uninspired or merely technical, lacking the requisite passion.⁴⁴ The Verbum Abbreviatum heralds the story with the very same discussion; and the same impetus is visible in Peter’s Distinctiones: despite the fact that the translator explained the sermon very clearly (apertissime exposuit), nobody was moved to tears. This version is embedded into a discussion about the necessary qualities of preachers: they must not preach vain words but embody these words in their own behaviour. Otherwise, they destroy everything (totum destruunt).⁴⁵ The Textus alter agrees: attacking the translator, it concludes that his life did not concur with what he preached (vox a vita discordabat).⁴⁶ These arguments mirror widespread debates at the time: preachers must teach others verbo et exemplo, a meaningful phrase found in many contemporary texts.⁴⁷ As a result, underlining the necessity of res is not concerned with a preacher’s stage performance, but with constructing an intrinsic causality between attitude and teaching: the latter will only be efficient, if the two concur. As a result, not only the original preacher, but also the translator, must display the words uttered in his own behaviour; otherwise, the entire event betrays a hypocritical taste. The bottom line is that the translator did not secure proper instruction via preaching; he represents, therefore, the root of subsequent misfortune.

Importantly, Peter’s Distinctiones endow this idea with a providential dimension: who speaks and teaches well, but lives badly, offers the tongue to God, but the soul to the devil (qui bene docet et dicit, et male vivit, linguam offert deo, animam vero diabolo). The translator epitomizes this serious indictment.⁴⁸ Ideas that the devil’s agents scattered sin, disguised as good Christians or even priests, loomed large at the time, in particular when it came to explaining a crusade’s failure.⁴⁹ It is not a coincidence that we find such an accusation intertwined with this story, whose original version was placed alongside the second crusade’s failure. A devilish servant had contaminated the entire event and thus contributed to the disaster. The concluding clause in the passage from the Verbum Abbreviatum substantiates this: God closes the mouths of the preachers ‘due to the sins of the people’ (propter peccata populi).⁵⁰ This clearly resembles the argument of peccatis nostris exigentibus, which Bernard and others used for explaining the second crusade’s failure. Writers used the same argument for the loss of the True Cross and the conquest of Jerusalem in 1187, the events that unleashed the third crusade – precisely the time when Peter wrote his work.⁵¹ And some of them even used the same or very similar wording as Peter, including one of Pope Gregory VIII’s letters aiming at mobilizing Christians for the third crusade.⁵² Deploying this argument in conjunction with our story indicates the belief that God already initiated the failure before the expedition had even departed. The listeners were moved by the saintly Bernard, but they did not understand anything, neither from Bernard (in Latin) nor from the local cleric (God’s intervention). As two versions put it, they could experience only Bernard’s voice (sola voce audita nec tamen intellecta).⁵³ The expedition’s outcome was already decided in this critical moment; it depended on the correct transmission of Bernard’s message, and on the presence of sin, the measure according to which God decided whether to support or punish them.

Another passage from Peter’s Distinctiones corroborates this reading of the story. The work includes a section for the keyword labia (lips, but also speech, language), which straddles a subsection entitled Labia nostra sunt clausa quandoque (on the work’s nature, see also below). It lists three instances that close the lips: (1) due to sin (propter peccatum), (2) due to the depravity of audiences (propter indignitatem auditorum) and (3) due to the weakness of audiences (propter infirmitatem auditorum).⁵⁴ This list looks like a template for our story: it includes the element of sin, the cause for failing communication, just as it speaks of audiences, thereby evoking the situation of preaching. The subsequent section bears the title labia nostra polluuntur, proclaiming inter alia, ‘[Our lips are polluted] when speaking, just as when coercing and speaking dishonest words. Therefore, one says: Keep your tongue away from evil, and your lips shall not utter any deceit’.⁵⁵ Wrong words or dishonest words pollute a cause, they raise the necessity for divine punishment – a logic implemented in the story on Bernard. The crusaders went thus to the East without having been instructed properly and they failed accordingly. God punished them already a priori via a Babylonian multilingualism (he could also have supported them, permitting translingual understanding via miracles).⁵⁶ The inauthentic translator contaminated the entire event and diverted the audience to wrong ends. This is presented as an exemplum, a word used explicitly in several versions, at the time of the third crusade, when sin and moral reform were once again the topic of the day.

Subsequent to the second crusade, elaborate discussions unfolded that God had already announced its failure before its departure, while some accused Bernard that he was either blind for not observing or correctly interpreting these signs, or even served the Antichrist in consciously leading the Christians into the Eastern disaster.⁵⁷ This is the underlying premise of all the versions of the story. The authors who recycled it, however, clearly belonged to the camp that was pro-Bernard: they used the story for defending him, while blaming the fault on an anonymous translator. The annals of Würzburg seem to agree with this when noting the following for the year 1147 (precisely the time of Bernard’s preaching tour): ‘By reason of sin, God allowed the Western Church to be afflicted. And thereupon some pseudoprophets, sons of Belial, witnesses of Antichrist emerged, who seduced the Christians with their vain words. They convinced all of humankind with their vain preaching to wage war against the Saracens, in order to liberate the Jerusalemites’.⁵⁸ Preachers and pseudo-prophets have seduced the crusaders with vain preaching (vana predicatione) and vain words (inanibus verbis), the same argument as in our story: they failed in transmitting the sense behind the words. It is noteworthy that the writer of the annals does not speak of Bernard, but of preachers in the plural – this agrees likewise with our story – and he locates the cause in the classic exigentibus peccatis. Importantly, pseudo-prophets are an element that several biblical references colour in an apocalyptic light (for example, Matt. 7:15; 1 John 4:1; Rev. 19:20); close to the End of Times, the Antichrist would deploy such methods for leading Christians astray.⁵⁹ This speaks once again to the significant providential dimension behind explaining the second crusade’s failure.

Gerhoch of Reichersberg (c.1092–1169), one of the sharpest critics of the crusade (despite previously supporting it), went even further than the annals. His De investigatione Antichristi (1160s) includes an extensive treatment of the expedition, which climaxes in the following words: ‘God sent them a work of error so that they would believe in the lie and sentence everybody who had not believed in the truth, but consented to iniquity. At the time, thereupon, false signs and miracles occurred, which God multiplied with the help of those men who contributed to this calamity and even with the help of those fellows who pursue this most wicked way of life’.⁶⁰ Gerhoch emphasizes that God himself sent all those vain preachers and false miracles (misit eis Deus operationem erroris). Among others, this may refer to the dubious monk Ralph, who was infamous for broadcasting anti-Jewish ideas on the eve of the expedition, an activity that was criticized by other preachers including Bernard. God thus punished the Christians, not only on crusade, but already in its preaching, even proactively disseminating such phenomena (multiplicare), in order to make salvation even more difficult to attain. Gerhoch apparently needs such a radical explanation for coping with the disaster.⁶¹

*

In the service of a discourse analysis, the examination turns now to context. It contains four classic dimensions, a framework that proves to be helpful for our subject: immediate context, media context, institutional context and historical context.⁶² Looking first at the immediate context, the varying textual settings corroborates the argument that meaning shifted in-between the Vita Prima and the later versions. In particular, the works of Peter the Chanter embed the story in discussions about the purpose of preaching and the requisite virtues of preachers, contrasting good and bad examples. Bad preachers, as we have seen, are not only those who commit sin, but also those whose words in preaching diverge from their deeds in life. Indebted to the tradition of explaining failure in the Holy Land, the later versions used this exemplum for underlining what is needed for successful preaching and, thus, for a successful crusade – recalling that the latter represented the story’s original context and the well-commemorated shadow cast over Bernard’s sanctity. One may characterize this development as a ‘theological refinement’ of Geoffrey’s original story.⁶³ It is noteworthy how flexible authors used such a textual passage, placing it in an entirely different context compared to the original, and thereby shifting its purpose. For example, in the case of the version in the Gemma Ecclesiastica, the chapter that precedes the story deals with how clerical impurity pollutes the Eucharist. The chapter in which the story appears then provides examples. This context tackles the bond between crusading and its liturgical preparation, as it was strengthened at the time. The Christians represented a collective entity (the Corpus Christi), which had to be spiritually pure throughout if they wanted God’s support in the Holy Land.⁶⁴

The second dimension is the media context. The story appears in vastly different genres. The Vita Prima is a hagiographical text; its version aimed at the augmentation of Bernard’s reputation, in order to support the canonization process. The other texts, however, were entangled with preaching activities: their purpose was practical and didactic. The story was an exemplum and was meant to be recited in live sermons. Its usefulness for preaching is testified by its appearance in the Verbum Abbreviatum, a milestone in promoting preaching efforts.⁶⁵ The Distinctiones, a genre that belongs to the so-called preaching tools, provide even stronger evidence. Consisting of a collection of entries in alphabetical order, they offered resources for specific keywords and concepts (such as labia, as discussed above), and were thus meant to help in the drafting and delivery of a sermon. Significantly, Peter even includes the story in the entry for preaching, which bears the title In predicatione vel et in omni prolacione verborum IIII sunt attendenda (‘Four matters need to be considered in preaching just like in any other verbal expression’).⁶⁶ The entry underlines the necessity to preach, naming it as the duty of bishops and prelates, before it proceeds to the discussion that one must preach not only by words, but by example. Bernard’s story is added for illustrating the point; it forms the end or even climax of this elaborate entry. Whenever a preacher looked up something on the nature and goals of preaching in this popular collection, he would encounter Bernard’s preaching of the second crusade and the moral lesson it taught.⁶⁷ As Jessalynn Bird has underlined, these works were likewise resources for crusade preachers, even if ‘the crusade’ does not surface explicitly.⁶⁸ Medieval preaching materials did not draw a line between crusade preaching and other preaching occasions. It was obvious to contemporary recipients that Peter’s Distinctiones could have been used for the crusade purpose. For instance, the collection holds an elaborate entry on Jerusalem, which delivers many crusade-appropriate materials.⁶⁹

Third, the institutional context – why were our authors picking on a nameless interpreter, decades after the event? Primarily, it shows that they still felt an urge for defending Bernard; others probably still saw him in a different light. Eventually, however, both Bernard and the translator are to be understood in exemplary terms: the latter epitomized those clerics who were unfit for duty. Significantly, the story does not blame this figure for lack of education, but even worse, for lack of inspiration – this tackles the distinction of verba and res put forward by several of the texts. Contrariwise, all our authors belonged to the movement that was devoted to a moral reform of Christian society in general and clerical abilities in particular. They feared that too many clerics were incapable of attending their pastoral duties and would thus engender the collective damnation of Christendom. It is this institutional context that lets us understand both the story itself and why it was selected as an exemplary tale.⁷⁰ Similarly, this context explains why it appears in practical texts devoted to furthering preaching activities – and not in historiographical accounts. As we have learned, once again thanks to the groundbreaking research of Bird, most contemporary crusade preachers received their education in Paris and formed henceforth a network evolving around the city. This bears two important implications: first, they drew a direct line from studying the Bible to preaching the crusade (as epitomized in Peter the Chanter’s programmatic scheme of lectio – disputatio – praedicatio). Second, they believed that the matters of the East were causally entangled with various concerns in the West such as anti-heretical action or societal reform.⁷¹

The historical context suggests that Bernard served as a symbol for larger concerns too. The story claims that the failure was not his fault; this makes the crusade into a just cause. This still seems to have been an issue around the third crusade, the time when the later authors were active: reasserting Bernard’s cause apparently helped them in justifying their own. After the third crusade had failed, they may have feared they would face similar accusations to Bernard. His peccatis nostris exigentibus was already broadly used for explaining the losses of the True Cross and Jerusalem in 1187; it was thus applied not only for explaining failure with hindsight, but already for shaping a cause – plausibly a strategy for anticipating potential criticism after the expedition.⁷² Similarly, one observes a widely disseminated concern prior to the campaign for dealing with the apparent state of sin, in order to prevent a disaster like the second crusade. This is present, for example, in several papal encyclicals, the statutes of the Cistercian general chapter or the extensive efforts of the papal legate Henry of Albano (c.1135–89), who mobilized and spiritually prepared thousands for the crusade.⁷³ The historical context provides us with a sense of why the story was shaped the way it appears in the texts. It reveals a concern about multilingual challenges, which were understood as a potential cause for failure in the Holy Land. The Parisian reformers had a clear-cut idea about the message they intended to disseminate, but a sense of frustration transpires here, since this dissemination depended in multilingual Europe on local interpreters, who did not always live up to their high standards.⁷⁴

We turn now to a final version of the story, the one that Gerald cites in his letter to the bishop of St. David’s. This letter compellingly unites the traits discussed in this article, just as it powerfully blends Bernard’s preaching of the second crusade with that of the third crusade, thereby making the historical context of the later versions explicit:

However, we saw that venerable and holy man, Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury, enter Wales to preach the crusade, and with the labour of love go round and penetrate the inmost regions. Though the Welsh could not understand his language, almost every day he was continually preaching the word of salvation with his own lips, and afterwards had it expounded to them through faithful interpreters. And so he filled them with great devotion and induced a great number of them to take the cross – the purpose of his visit. I think it is not beside the point to draw a parallel with the example of Abbot Bernard, who preached to the Germans and moved them to tears and weeping, though they did not understand him. His sermon was translated after him by his interpreter, a monk, and when that man spoke, they were unmoved. It is clear from this that a man who is not on fire does not inflame his audience. In Sacred Scripture it is deeds, not words, which speak; as the poet says: ‘Fight on. You will be safe’. In this matter it is the deeds rather than the words that plead and persuade; for voices will beat on the outside and not penetrate, while it is the spirit that acts and works within.⁷⁵

The story looks similar to the other versions; interestingly, it is closest to the Verbum Abbreviatum (and not Gerald’s Gemma Ecclesiastica), and the context shows likewise that Gerald often quoted verbatim from Peter’s work. This is not surprising because Peter’s work delivers a quasi template that Gerald seeks to put into practice via this letter. Over several pages, he sharply criticizes his addressee, the bishop of St. David’s, reproaching that the diocese’s clerics are often corrupt and greedy, while they do not provide proper instruction and preaching to their flocks.⁷⁶ The programme developed in Paris, and the building blocks offered by works such as Peter the Chanter’s Distinctiones, are implemented here in a specific historical setting. Significantly, the passage cited is preceded by an attack on clerics who do not know how to preach, explicitly broaching translators, an expressive nexus to our story.⁷⁷

The tale about Bernard was so influential that it shaped other narratives. Gerald’s Itinerarium Cambriae reports on the preaching tour through Wales (March–April 1188), devoted to mobilizing participants for the third crusade (as it is also present in the previous passage).⁷⁸ One chapter boasts about Gerald’s own miraculous preaching:

Therefore, at Haverfordwest, first the archbishop [Baldwin of Canterbury] delivered a sermon, and then the archdeacon of Saint-David’s [Gerald of Wales], whose name this work’s title bears. After they had faithfully expounded on the word of the Lord, the bulk of the crowd was recruited, equally both soldiers and simple folk. In doing so, many considered it as a surprising moment and as if a miracle that – when the Lord’s word was elucidated by the archdeacon, and yet he spoke in the Latin and French tongue – not less than the others were those who understood neither of both languages moved to a flow of tears, just as they rushed in large numbers to the sign of the cross.⁷⁹

The climax resembles the story on Bernard, just as one observes some parallels. Despite Gerald preaching in Latin and French, the audience was moved by his words. Thanks to a miracle (miraculum), thanks to God’s intervention, they understood his sermon. This evidence is even more puzzling considering that he was a Welshman and thus capable of speaking the local vernacular.⁸⁰ Yet he decided (according to the narrative) to use languages the audience would not understand, trusting in God’s support.⁸¹ Given that the third crusade was likewise a failure, Gerald applies with hindsight a similar strategy as Geoffrey in the Vita Prima. He emphasizes that his own preaching was efficient, including a coping with multilingual challenges. God was on their side; a failure unforeseeable. The passage suggests that the tale about Bernard was so influential that it infused thinking and writing about preaching and its multilingual challenges – and if Gerald reports faithfully, it even influenced actual preaching.

*

This article investigated the narrative of how Bernard of Clairvaux preached the second crusade to a German audience. The comparison of its different versions demonstrated that the story’s purpose shifted: the Vita Prima was concerned with his canonization, defending him against accusations in the second crusade’s aftermath, while also paying tribute to the interpreter. The later sources, however, used the story for discussing the desirable qualities of preachers in general, constructing an antagonism between a virtuous Bernard and an inauthentic or even hypocritical translator, who contaminated the pending crusade. It is worth retracing the logic that the story uses for shaping the two pertinent discourses, Bernard’s reputation and the expedition’s failure:

• (1) God uses signs for communicating with the Christians, in particular regarding the Holy Land.

• (2) The crusade’s failure was willed by God, who thus punished the Christians for their sins.

• (3) The second crusade generated discussions that signs had already announced the failure beforehand; the venture had been doomed from the start. This was potentially related to its preaching – as visible in our story, but also in other sources such as the annals of Würzburg.

• (4) Entangling peccatis nostris exigentibus with translating issues helped preachers in making sense of the multilingual challenges they encountered. A recurring failure at these challenges suggested divine punishment, considering that God could also have assisted them via miracles (as the Vita Prima tries to applicate them despite the failure).

Blending crusading failure with multilingualism thus points to existing challenges, for which the reformers blamed local interpreters (and hence may have downplayed their own responsibility). These interpreters signify the broader shortcomings of a parish clergy, who was often uneducated but, as our story underlines, often also uninspired and morally depraved despite their education. They did not take enough interest in transmitting the reformers’ message. The story appears, therefore, not in chronicles, but in practical texts dedicated to instructing preaching and providing materials for the same purpose. New contexts shift its meaning compared to the hagiographic original. The authors use the multilingual challenges for dragging the fault away from Bernard: the argument works since he and his audience do not share a common language, a fact that allows them to blame the mediator in-between.⁸² Hence, there is a reason for why they chose this story (others were certainly available). It also speaks to the common clerical abhorrence for vernacular languages, rooted in the understanding that profound expression is possible only in Latin.⁸³

The story also invites us to reflect on the nature of such narratives; its development over some decades displays how meaning and context may shift. This allows the modern scholar to interpret its purpose in a specific text, but not to consider such a story as evidence for the second crusade’s preaching. The preachers visible in such narratives mostly belong to the highest political strata, in this case Bernard as the abbot of Clairvaux, close associate of the pope and popular preacher.⁸⁴ The translator, though being present, remains nameless and faceless. The story sensitizes us to the fact that such narratives represent the tip of an iceberg, while most preaching activities took place without being protocolled for historical commemoration.⁸⁵ This is an important point because modern historiography largely reproduced such narratives without reflecting on their specific nature, context and lack of representativeness.⁸⁶ Our story even represents the prime example for these flawed approaches: it has been cited in uncountable scholarly works, but this article is the very first attempt to contextualize it in its different versions. It clearly shows that such accounts tend to exaggerate in the service of specific goals and interests. It emphasizes Bernard’s performance and charisma. Many scholars took it (or similar narratives) as evidence for proposing that such traits were essential for mobilizing crusaders – while a sermon’s contents were of minor significance.⁸⁷ A close analysis, however, reveals how essential contemporary writers deemed the correct transmission of a message, the transmission of the sense instead of vain words – stemming from a requisite concurrence between verbum and exemplum, that is, a sermon’s message and the preacher’s own lifestyle. They even understood the lack of such a transmission as a cause for the crusade’s failure, the root of divine punishment – a misfortune that they were eager to avoid when masses of armed pilgrims started preparing for the third crusade. The story’s popularity bears witness to the fact of how heavy Bernard’s shadow laid on the shoulders of his successors, with whose reverend example they intended to instruct a new generation of preachers.

Footnotes

Author notes