Caring for Your Husband's Person, Keeping His Secrets and Being Wise When He is Foolish

p .171

THE SEVENTH ARTICLE

The seventh article of the first section showeth how you should be careful and thoughtful of your husband's person. Wherefore, fair sister, if you have another husband after me, know that you should think much of his person, for after that a woman has lost her first husband and marriage, she commonly findeth it hard to find a second to her liking, according to her estate, and she remaineth long while all lonely and disconsolate and the more so still if she lose the second. Wherefore love your husband's person carefully, and I pray you keep him in clean linen, for that is your business, and because the trouble and care of outside affairs lieth with men, so must husbands take heed, and go and come, and journey hither and thither, in rain and wind, in snow and hail, now drenched, now dry, now sweating, now shivering, ill-fed, ill-lodged, ill-warmed and ill-bedded. And naught harmeth him, because he is upheld by the hope that he hath of the care which his wife will take of him on his return, and of the ease, the joys and the pleasures which she will do him, or cause to be done to him in her presence; to be unshod before a good fire, to have his feet washed and fresh shoes and hose, to be given good food and drink, to be well served and well looked after, well bedded in white sheets and nightcaps, well covered with good furs, and assuaged with other joys and desports, privities,

p. 172

loves and secrets whereof I am silent. And the next day fresh shirts and garments.

Certes, fair sister, such services make a man love and desire to return to his home and to see his goodwife, and to be distant with others. Wherefore I counsel you to make such cheer to your husband at all his comings and stayings, and to persevere therein; and also be peaceable with him, and remember the rustic proverb, which saith that there be three things which drive the goodman from home, to wit a leaking roof, a smoky chimney and a scolding woman. And therefore, fair sister, I beseech you that, to keep yourself in the love and good favour of your husband, you be unto him gentle, and amiable, and debonnair. Do unto him what the good simple women of our country say hath been done to their sons, when these have set their love elsewhere and their mothers cannot wean them therefrom. Sure it is that when fathers and mothers be dead and stepfathers and stepmothers that have stepsons rail at them and scold them and repulse them and take no thought for their sleeping, nor for their food and drink, their hose and their shirts, nor for their other needs or affairs, and these same children find elsewhere a good refuge and counsel from some other woman, that receiveth them unto herself and taketh thought to warm them by some poor gruel with her, to give them a bed and keep them clean and mend their hosen, breeches, shirts and other clothes, then do these same children follow her and desire to be with her and to sleep and be warmed between her breasts, and they be altogether estranged from their mothers and fathers, that before took no heed of them, and now be fain to

p. 173

get them back and have them again; but it may not be, for these children hold more dear the company of strangers that think and care for them, than of their kinsfolk that care no whit for them. Then they lament and cry and say that these same women have bewitched their children and that the lads be spell bound and cannot leave them and are never at ease save when they are with them. But, whatever they may say, it is no witchcraft, but it is for the sake of the love, the care, the intimacies, joys and pleasures that these women show unto them in all things and, on my soul, there is none other enchantment. For whoever giveth all its pleasure to a bear, a wolf, or a lion, that same bear, wolf, or lion will follow after him, and so the other beasts might say, could they but speak, that those thus tamed must be bewitched. And, on my soul, I trow that there is none other witchcraft than well doing, and no man can be better bewitched than by giving him what pleaseth him.

Wherefore, dear sister, I beseech you thus to bewitch and bewitch again your husband that shall be, and beware of roofless house and of smoky fire, and scold him not, but be unto him gentle and amiable and peaceable. Have a care that in winter he have a good fire and smokeless and let him rest well and be well covered between your breasts, and thus bewitch him. And in summer take heed that there be no fleas in your chamber, nor in your bed, the which you may do in six ways, as I have heard tell. For I have heard from several that if the room be strewn with alder leaves, the fleas will be caught thereon. Item I have heard tell that if you have at night one or two trenchers [of

p. 174

bread] slimed with glue or turpentine and set about the room, with a lighted candle in the midst of each trencher, they will come and be stuck thereto. The other way that I have tried and 'tis true: take a rough cloth and spread it about your room and over your bed, and all the fleas that shall hop thereon will be caught, so that you may carry them away with the cloth wheresoe'er you will. Item, sheepskins. Item, I have seen blanchets [of white wool] set on the straw and on the bed, and when the black fleas hopped thereon, they were the sooner found upon the white, and killed. But the best way is to guard oneself again those that be within the coverlets and the furs, and the stuff of the dresses wherewith one is covered. For know that I have tried this, and when the coverlets, furs or dresses, wherein there be fleas, be folded and shut tightly up, as in a chest tightly corded with straps, or in a bag well tied up and pressed, or otherwise put and pressed so that the aforesaid fleas be without light and air and kept imprisoned, then will they perish forthwith and die. Item I have sometimes seen in divers chambers, that when one had gone to bed they were full of mosquitoes, which at the smoke of the breath came to sit on the faces of those that slept, and stung them so hard, that they were fain to get up and light a fire of hay, in order to make a smoke so that they had to fly away or die, and this may be done by day if they be suspected, and likewise he that hath a mosquito net may protect himself therewith. And if you have a chamber or a passage where there is great resort of flies, take little sprigs of fern and tie them to threads like to tassels, and hang them up and

p. 175

all the flies will settle on them at eventide; then take down the tassels and throw them out. Item, shut up your chamber closely in the evening, but let there be a little opening in the wall towards the east, and as soon as the dawn breaketh, all the flies will go forth through this opening, and then let it be stopped up. Item, take a bowl of milk and a hare's gall and mix them one with another and then set two or three bowls thereof in places where the flies gather and all that taste thereof will die. Item, otherwise, have a linen rag tied at the bottom of a pot with an opening in the neck, and set that pot in the place where the flies gather and smear it within with honey, or apples, or pears; when it is full of flies, set a trencher over the mouth and then shake it. Item, otherwise, take raw red onions and bray them and pour the juice into a bowl and set it where the flies gather and all that taste thereof will die. Item, have whisks wherewith to slay them by hand. Item, have little twigs covered with glue on a basin of water. Item, have your windows shut full tight with oiled or other cloth, or with parchment or something else, so tightly that no fly may enter, and let the flies that be within be slain with the whisk or otherwise as above, and no others will come in. Item, have a string hanging soaked in honey, and the flies will come and settle thereon and at eventide let them be taken in a bag. Finally meseemeth that flies will not stop in a room wherein there be no landing tables, forms, dressers or other things whereon they can settle and rest, for if they have naught but straight walls whereon to settle and cling, they will not settle, nor will they in a shady or damp place. Wherefore

p. 176

meseemeth that if the room be well watered and well closed and shut up, and if nought be left lying on the floor, no fly will settle there.

And thus shall you preserve and keep your husband from all discomforts and give him all the comforts whereof you can bethink you, and serve him and have him served in your house, and you shall look to him for outside things, for if he be good he will take even more pains and labour therein than you wish, and by doing what I have said, you will cause him ever to miss you and have his heart with you and your loving service and he will shun all other houses, all other women, all other services and households. All will be as naught to him save you, who think for him as is aforesaid, and who ought so to do, by the ensample that you see of horsemen riding abroad, for you see that as soon as they be come home to their house from a journey, they cause their horses to be given fresh litter up to their bellies; these horses be unharnessed and made comfortable, they be given honey and picked hay and sifted oats, and they be better looked after in their own stables on their return than anywhere else. And if the horses be thus made comfortable, so much the more ought the persons, to wit the lords, to be so at their own expense on their return. Hounds returning from the woods and from the chase be littered before their master and he maketh their fresh litter himself before the fire; their feet be greased at the fire with soft grease, they be given sops and be well eased, for pity of their labour; and likewise, if women do thus unto their husbands, as men do unto their horses, dogs, asses, mules, and other beasts, certes all other houses, where

p. 177

they have been served, will seem to them but dark prisons and strange places, compared with their own, which will be then a paradise of rest unto them. And so on the road husbands will think of their wives, and no trouble will be a burden to them for the hope and love they will have of their wives, whom they will be fain to see again with as great longing as poor hermits and penitents are fain to see the face of, Jesus Christ; and these husbands, that be thus looked after, will never be fain to abide elsewhere nor in other company, but they will withhold, withdraw and abstain therefrom; all the rest will seem unto them but a bed of stones compared with their home; but let it be unceasing, and with a good heart and without pretence.

But there be certain old hags, which be sly and play the wise woman and feign great love by way of showing their heart's great service, and naught else; and wot you, fair sister, that the husbands be fools if they perceive it not; and when they perceive it, if the husband and wife be silent and pretend one with another, it is an ill beginning and will lead to a worse end. And some women there be, that in the beginning serve their husbands full well, and they trow well that their husbands be then so amorous of them and so debonnair that, trow they, those husbands will scarce dare to be wroth with them, if they do less, so they slacken and little by little they try to show less respect and service and obedience, but—what is more—they take upon themselves authority, command and lordship, at first in a small thing, then in a larger, and a little more every day. Thus they essay and advance and rise, as they think, and they trow that their

p. 178

husbands, the which because they be debonnair or peradventure because they set a trap, say nought thereof, see it not because they suffer it thus. And certes, it is an ill thought and deed, for when the husbands see that they cease their service, and mount unto domination, and that they do it too much and that by suffering ill good may come, then those women be all at once, by their husband's rightful will, cast down even as Lucifer was, that was the chief of the angels of Paradise, and that our Lord so loved that He allowed and suffered him to do his will, and he grew puffed up with overweening pride. He did and undertook so much that he went too far, and displeased our Lord that long had dissimulated and suffered him without a word, and then all at once He bethought him of all. So He cast him forth into the nethermost depths of hell, because that he continued not the service whereunto he was ordained and for the which he had in the beginning won the full great love of our Lord. Wherefore you should be obedient in the beginning and ever persevere therein, by this ensample.

p. 179

THE EIGHTH ARTICLE

The eighth article of the first section saith that you should be silent or at least temperate in speech and wise to keep and to hide your husband's secrets. Upon which, fair sister, wot you that he that groweth hot in speech is not temperate of mind, and know that it is a sovereign virtue to know how to set a rein to the tongue and many dangers be come of too much talk, and especially if it be with arrogant or hot-headed folk or courtiers. And do you above all take heed that you hold not speech with such people, and if perchance they should speak to you, do you make an end and leave them wisely and courteously and it shall be a sovereign good sense in you, and know that to do thus is verily necessary; and though it befall that your heart be hot within you, yet must you sometimes master it, and no man is wise who cannot do so; for there is a rustic proverb that saith how that none is worthy to have rule or lorship over any other who cannot rule himself.

Wherefore in this matter and in all others, you should so be master of your heart and tongue that they may be subject to your head, and take good heed before whom and to whom you shall speak; and I pray and charge you that, whether in company or at table, you do take heed that you speak not too much, for from too many words ill must needs sometimes arise, and sometimes there be joking words spoken in desport and in jest,

p. 180

which be afterwards remembered to the great scorn and mockery of those that have spoken. Wherefore take heed before whom and concerning what you speak and in what manner, and do you say what you have to say simply and to the point, and in speaking take thought that nothing cometh from your lips that ought not to come forth and that a bridle be in your mouth to keep you from too much speech. And be a good keeper of secrets and take heed ever to guard the secrets of your husband that shall be; first his misdeeds, vices or sins, if you know of any, do you conceal and cover them, even without his knowledge, that he be not shamed; for hardly ever will you find any man that hath a friend who perceiveth his sin, but henceforth he will look upon his friend less lovingly than before and will be shamed before him and hold him in fear. And likewise I counsel you that you never reveal those things which your husband saith unto you in discussion, to any person however privy with you, and in this you shall conquer your woman's nature, which is such (so it is said) that they—to wit the bad and wicked ones—can hide nothing. Concerning which a philosopher called Macrobius tells in the book of Scipio's Dream how that there was in Rome a child, a young boy, hight Papirius, who went one day with his father that was a senator of Rome into the hall of the senators, in which room the Roman senators held counsel together. And there they made oath that none should be bold to reveal their counsel on pain of losing his head. And when they had held counsel and the child returned home, his mother asked him whence he came and he replied that he had been at the meeting of the Senate

p. 181

with his father. His mother asked him what had there passed, and he answered that he dared not say, on pain of death. Then had the mother full great longing to know, and she began first to flatter and then to threaten her son, that he should tell her. And when the child perceived that he could not withstand his mother, he bade her first to promise that she should tell it to no man, and she promised him. Then he told her this lie, to wit that the senators had taken counsel together whether a husband should have two wives or a wife two husbands. When the mother heard this, she forbade him to tell it to any other, and then sped she to her gossips and told them the counsel in secret, and each told it to another, until at last they all knew the matter, each as her own secret.

So it befel in a short while that all the women of Rome came to the senate house, where the senators were assembled together, and cried oftentimes and full loudly that rather would they that a woman should have two husbands than a man two wives. The senators were all astonied and knew not what might be the meaning thereof, and looked at one another, asking whence it had arisen, until the child Papirius told them the story. And when the senators heard it, they were full of wrath and they made him a senator and ruled that nevermore should a child be of their company.

Thus appeareth it by this ensample that the boy child that was young knew how to hide and be silent and evaded, and the woman that was of meet age to have sense and discretion knew not how to be silent and conceal that which she had sworn and promised on

p. 182

her oath to hide, albeit a secret which touched the honour of her husband and her son. And again the worst of it is that when women tell a thing one to the other, always the last addeth a little more and increaseth the falsehood and setteth somewhat of her own thereto, and the next fill more. And concerning this there is a country tale of a good woman that was accustomed to rise early. One morning she rose not as early as was her wont, and her gossip feared lest she were ill, and went to her bedside and asked her ofttimes how she did. The good woman was shamed that she had sported long with her husband and knew not what to say save that she was very heavy and ill, and in such plight that she might not tell it. The gossip besought and prayed her for love of her to say, and swore, promised and bound herself never to reveal what she heard for anything in the world, to any living creature, father, mother, sister, brother, husband, confessor and any other. After the which promise and oath the good woman knew not what to say, and at last told her that she had laid an egg. The gossip was full astonied and feigned her to be in great agitation and swore more loudly than ever that not a word thereof should be revealed.

Shortly afterwards this gossip departed and on her way home she met another gossip who asked her whence she came and forthwith she answered that she had been to see a good woman that was ill and had laid two eggs, and prayed her to keep it secret and the other promised. The other met another and told her eight eggs, and so the number grew ever more and more. The good woman rose and learned that all through the town folk

p. 183

were saying that she had laid a whole basket full of eggs. Thus she perceived how that women be ill keepers of secrets, and what is worse make all things worse in the telling.

Wherefore, fair sister, know you to keep your secrets from everyone, save only your husband, and you shall show good sense thereby, for think not that another person shall hide for you that which you yourself have not been able to keep; wherefore be secret and discreet to all save to your husband, for from him ought you to conceal naught, but tell all to him, and he likewise to you. And it is said Ad Ephesios V°: Sic viri debent diligete uxores scilicet ut corpora sua. Ideo ibidem dicitur: Viri diligite uxores vestras; et Unusquisque uxorem suam diligat sicut se ipsum, that is to wit, a man should love his wife as his own body, and therefore you two, to wit man and wife, should be as one, and everywhere and in all things take counsel one with the other, and so do and should do all good and wise folk. And I would well that the husbands know they ought likewise to hide and cover the foolish deeds done by their wives, and gently guard against their foolish deeds to come. And thus was a good worthy man of Venice fain to do.

At Venice there was a wedded pair that had three children in marriage. Afterwards the woman lay upon her deathbed and confessed, among other things, that one of the children was not her husband's. The confessor at the end said to her that he would advise him what counsel to give her and would return to her. This confessor went then to the physician that tended her and asked the state of her illness and the physician

p. 184

said that she could not recover. Then came the confessor to her and told her how that he had considered her case and that he saw not how God might give her salvation, save if she sought pardon from her husband for the wrong which she had done him. She bade seek her husband, and caused the room to be cleared of all save her mother and her confessor, who set her and supported her upon her knees in the bed, and with hands clasped before her husband, she humbly besought his mercy for that she had sinned against the law of marriage, and had had one of her children by another than he; and she would have said more, but her husband cried out and said: "Ho! ho! ho! say no more!" Whereupon he kissed her and pardoned her, saying: "Never say you more, nor tell you to me nor to any other which of your children it is, for I would love them all with so equal a love that neither during your life, nor after your death shall you be blamed, for by your blame should I be shamed and your children and through them others, to wit our parents, should receive foul and perpetual reproach. Wherefore be silent: I wish to know no more, so that it shall never be said of me that I am doing ill by the other two. Whichever he be, I give him in free gift henceforward during my life, all that would come to him by the law of succession".

Fair sister, thus you see how the wise man softened his heart to save his wife's honour, which touched the honour of himself and his children, and so may you learn what wise men and wise women ought to do for each other to save their honour. And concerning this another ensample may be drawn.

p. 185

There was once a great and wise man that his wife left to go with another young man to Avignon, and when this young man was aweary of her he left her, as such young men are oftentimes wont to do. She was poor and without comfort and she became a common woman, because she had not wherewithal to live. Then it came to the knowledge of her husband and he was in full great distress and set thereto this remedy. He mounted his wife's two brethren upon horseback and gave them money and bade them go seek their sister that was even as a common woman in Avignon, and bade them clothe her in sackcloth, and hang her with cockle shells after the custom of pilgrims coming from St James [of Compostella], and mount her suitably and when she was a day's journey from Paris, send her to him. They set forth at once and the wise men spread abroad and told everyone how that he was full glad of heart because his wife was returning in good estate, gramercy, from the place where he had sent her, and when they asked him whither he had sent her, he answered that he had lately sent her to St James in Galicia, to make a pilgrimage on his behalf, that his father had laid upon him on his deathbed. All were full astonied at his words, seeing what men had hitherto said of her. When his wife was come to within a day's journey of Paris, he caused his house to be adorned with branches and green herbs and called together his friends to ride and meet his wife. He rode at their head to her, and they kissed, and both fell to weeping, and had great joy of each other. He caused his wife to be warned that she should speak gaily and proudly and boldly to all and to himself and

p. 186

before the household, and that when she came to Paris she should visit all her neighbours one after another and show them all a joyful countenance. And so the good man came back and kept his wife's honour.

And in God's name, if a man keep his wife's honour and a wife blame her husband or suffer him to be blamed, either covertly or openly, she herself hath blame thereby and with reason; for either he is wrongly blamed or he is rightly blamed; if he be wrongly blamed, then should she fiercely avenge him; if he be rightly blamed, then ought she graciously to cover and sweetly to defend him, for certain it is that if the blame remain and be not wiped out, the worse her husband is the worse shall be her own report and she shall share the blame because she is married to one so wicked. For even as he that playeth at chess holdeth long time his piece in his hand before he setteth it down, in order that he may advise him that he may set it in a safe place, even so ought a wife to hold her ready to consider and choose and set herself in a good place. And if she doth not so, it shall be a reproach unto her and she must share her husband's blame; and if he be blemished in aught, she should cover and conceal it with all her might. And behoveth the husband to do as much for his wife, as is said above and shall be said hereafter.

I knew a very famous advocate in Parliament, the which advocate had a daughter that he had got upon a poor woman, who put her out to nurse; and for want of payment, or of visits, or of the courtesies which men know not how to do to nurses in such cases, there was such talk thereof that the advocate's wife heard it,

p. 187

and she heard likewise that I was making the payments for this nurture, for to save the honour of her lord, to whom I was and am much beholden, may God keep him! Wherefore the wife of this same advocate came to me and said that I did great sin to allow her lord to be slandered and ill-famed, and that she was in better position to undertake the difficulty of this nurture than I, and bade me lead her to the place where the child was. And she put the child into the care of a sewingwoman, and caused her to be taught her trade, and then married her, and never did her husband know it by one sign of illwill, or one angry or reproachful word. And thus do good wives bear them to their husbands and good husbands to their wives when they are in error.

p. 188

THE NINTH ARTICLE

The ninth article showeth how that you shall be wise when your husband beareth him foolishly, as young and simple folk often do, and that you should gently and wisely draw him away from his follies. First, if he is in mind to be wroth and deal ill with you, take heed that by good patience and gentle words you slay his proud cruelty, and if thus you can do, you will so have vanquished him that he will rather be dead than do you ill, and he will remember him so often hereafter of your goodness, howbeit he saith no word thereof to you, that you shall have him wholly drawn unto you. And if you cannot move him that he turn his wrath from you, take heed that you make not plaint thereof to your friends or to others, so that he may perceive it, for he will think the less of you and will remember it another time; but go you into your chamber and weep gently and softly in a low voice and make your plaint to God; and thus do all wise ladies. And if perchance he be prone to wrath against another person less near unto him, do you wisely restrain him. . . .

Wherefore I say unto you that it behoveth good ladies, subtly, cautiously and gently, to counsel and restrain their husbands from the follies and silly dealings whereunto they see them drawn and tempted, and in no wise to think to turn them aside by lording over them, nor by loud talk, by crying to their neighbours or in the street, by blaming them, by making plaint

p. 189

to their friends and parents, nor by other masterful means. For all this bringeth nought but irritation and the making of bad worse, for the heart of man findeth it hard to be corrected by the domination and lordship of a woman, and know that there is no man so poor nor of so small value that would not be lord and master when he is wed.

Again will I not be silent concerning an ensample of how to reclaim a husband by kindness, the which ensample I once heard my late father—God rest his soul—tell; who said that there was a citizen's wife, dwelling at Paris, hight dame Jehanne la Quentine, that was wife to Thomas Quentin. She knew that the aforesaid Thomas her husband foolishly and lightly desported himself, and went with and sometimes lay with a poor girl that was a spinner of wool at the wheel, and for a long time, without seeming to be aware of it or saying a single word, the said dame Jehanne bore with it and suffered it very patiently; and at last she sought to find where this poor girl lived and sought so that she found out. And she came to the house and found the poor girl, who had no provisions of any kind, neither wood, nor tallow, nor candle, nor oil, nor coal, nor anything, save only a bed and a coverlet, her spinning wheel and full little furniture beside. Then she spoke to her saying: "My dear, I am bound to keep my husband from blame, and because I know that he takes pleasure in you and loves you and that he comes here, I pray you that you speak of him as little as you can in company, to spare him from blame and likewise me and our children, and that for your part you hide it; and I swear to you that you and he shall

p. 190

be well hidden for my part, for since it haps that he loves you, it is my intent to love you and help you and aid you in all that you have to do, and you shall perceive it well; but I pray you with all my heart that his sin be not revealed nor spread abroad. And because I know that he is of good birth and has been tenderly nurtured, well fed, well warmed, well bedded and well covered according to my power, and I see that you have little wherewith to do him ease, rather would I that you and I together should care for him in health, than that I alone should care for him in sickness. So I pray you that you love and keep and serve him so that by you he may be restrained and kept from leading a light life elsewhere in divers dangers; and without his knowledge I will send you a great pail that you may often wash his feet, and store of wood to warm him, a fair bed of down, sheets and coverlets according to his estate, nightcaps, pillows, and clean hose and linen; and when I shall send you clean ones, so shall you send me those that be soiled, and he shall know naught of all that is between you and me, lest he be shamed; for God's sake bear you so wisely and secretly towards him that he learn not our secret". Thus it was promised and sworn and Jehanne la Quentine departed and carefully sent all things as she had promised.

When Thomas came at eventide to the young girl's house, his feet were washed and he was laid in a fair bed of down, with great sheets spread and hanging on each side, very well covered and better than had been his wont, and on the morrow he had white linen, clean hose and fair new slippers. Greatly did he marvel at this new thing and was full of thought and went to

p. 191

hear mass as he had been wont and returned to the girl and charged her that these things were ill gotten, and very sharply accused her of evil, so that she in self defence should tell him whence they were come. For well he knew that he had left her poor two or three days before, and that she could not have grown so rich in so short a time. When she saw herself thus accused, and that she must answer in order to defend herself, she knew enough of this Thomas's conscience to know that he would believe what she told him; so she lied not but told him the truth concerning all that is aforesaid.

Then went the said Thomas all shamed to his house, more full of thought than ever, but no word said he to the said Jehanne his wife, nor she to him, but she served him very joyously and he and his wife slept together very sweetly that night, without saying a word to each other about it. The next day the said Thomas of his own will went to hear mass and confessed his sins, and soon afterwards returned to the girl and gave her what she had of his, and vowed continence and to abstain from all women save only his wife as long as he lived. And thus did his wife reclaim him by subtlety and very humbly and cordially loved him thereafter. And thus it behoveth good ladies to counsel and reclaim their husbands, not by mastery and pride, but by humility; and bad women know this not nor can their hearts endure it, therefore their affairs go often worse than before. And albeit many other ensamples thereof could be set down, the which would be long to write, nathless this should suffice you concerning this article, for you have no cause to take heed for this last matter and you know well how to avoid the danger.