A secretary, thinking to deceive Bernard du Ha, was by him
cunningly deceived. (1)
1 The incidents of this story must have occurred subsequent
to 1527. The secretary is doubtless John Frotté. We have
failed to identify the Lieutenant referred to.—M. and Ed.
It chanced that when King Francis, first of the name, was in the city of
Paris, and with him his sister, the Queen of Navarre, the latter had a
secretary called John. He was not one of those who allow a good thing to
lie on the ground for want of picking it up, and there was, accordingly,
not a president or a councillor whom he did not know, and not a merchant
or a rich man with whom he had not intercourse and correspondence.
At this time there also arrived in Paris a merchant of Bayonne, called
Bernard du Ha, who, both on account of the nature of his commerce and
because the Lieutenant for Criminal Affairs (2) was a countryman of his,
was wont to address himself to that officer for counsel and assistance
in the transaction of his business. The Queen of Navarre's secretary
used also frequently to visit the Lieutenant as one who was a good
servant to his master and mistress.
2 The Provost of Paris, who, in the King's name,
administered justice at the Châtelet court, and upon whose
sergeants fell the duty of arresting and imprisoning all
vagabonds, criminals and disturbers of the peace, was
assisted in his functions by three lieutenants, one for
criminal affairs, one for civil affairs, and one for
ordinary police duties.—Ed.
One feast-day the secretary went to the Lieutenant's house, and found
both him and his wife abroad; but he very plainly heard Bernard du Ha
teaching the serving-women to foot the Gascon dances to the sound of a
viol or some other instrument. And when the secretary saw him, he
would have had him believe that he was committing the greatest offence
imaginable, and that if the Lieutenant and his wife knew of it they
would be greatly displeased with him. And after setting the fear of this
well before his eyes, until, indeed, the other begged him not to say
anything about it, he asked—
"What will you give me if I keep silence?"
Bernard du Ha, who was by no means so much afraid as he seemed to be,
saw that the secretary was trying to cozen him, and promised to give him
a pasty of the best Basque ham (3) that he had ever eaten. The secretary
was well pleased at this, and begged that he might have the pasty on the
following Sunday after dinner, which was promised him.
3 So-called Bayonne ham is still held in repute in France.
It comes really from Orthez and Salies in Beam.—D.
Relying upon this promise, he went to see a lady of Paris whom above all
things he desired to marry, and said to her—
"On Sunday, mistress, I will come and sup with you, if such be your
pleasure. But trouble not to provide aught save some good bread and
wine, for I have so deceived a foolish fellow from Bayonne that all the
rest will be at his expense; by my trickery you shall taste the best
Basque ham that ever was eaten in Paris."
The lady believed his story, and called together two or three of the
most honourable ladies of her neighbourhood, telling them that she would
give them a new dish such as they had never tasted before.
When Sunday was come, the secretary went to look for his merchant, and
finding him on the Pont-au-Change, (4) saluted him graciously and said—
"The devil take you, for the trouble you have given me to find you."
4 The oldest of the Paris bridges, spanning the Seine
between the Châtelet and the Palais. Originally called the
Grand-Pont, it acquired the name of Pont-au-Change through
Louis VII. allowing the money-changers to build their houses
and offices upon it in 1141.—Ed.
Bernard du Ha made reply that a good many men had taken more trouble
than he without being rewarded in the end with such a dainty dish. So
saying, he showed him the pasty, which he was carrying under his cloak,
and which was big enough to feed an army. The secretary was so glad to
see it that, although he had a very large and ugly mouth, he mincingly
made it so small that one would not have thought him capable of biting
the ham with it. He quickly took the pasty, and, without waiting for
the merchant to go with him, went off with it to the lady, who was
exceedingly eager to learn whether the fare of Gascony was as good as
that of Paris.
When supper-time was come and they were eating their soup, the secretary
said—
"Leave those savourless dishes alone, and let us taste this loveworthy
whet for wine."
So saying, he opened the huge pasty, but, where he expected to find
ham, he found such hardness that he could not thrust in his knife. After
trying several times, it occurred to him that he had been deceived; and,
indeed, he found 'twas a wooden shoe such as is worn in Gascony. It had
a burnt stick for knuckle, and was powdered upon the top with iron rust
and sweet-smelling spice.
If ever a man was abashed it was the secretary, not only because he had
been deceived by the man whom he himself had thought to deceive, but
also because he had deceived her to whom he had intended and thought
to speak the truth. Moreover, he was much put out at having to content
himself with soup for supper.
The ladies, who were well-nigh as vexed as he was, would have accused
him of practising this deception had they not clearly seen by his face
that he was more wroth than they.
After this slight supper, the secretary went away in great anger,
intending, since Bernard du Ha had broken his promise, to break also his
own. He therefore betook himself to the Lieutenant's house, resolved to
say the worst he could about the said Bernard.
Quick as he went, however, Bernard was first afield and had already
related the whole story to the Lieutenant, who, in passing sentence,
told the secretary that he had now learnt to his cost what it was to
deceive a Gascon, and this was all the comfort that the secretary got in
his shame.
The same thing befalls many who, believing that they are exceedingly
clever, forget themselves in their cleverness; wherefore we should never
do unto others differently than we would have them do unto us.
"I can assure you," said Geburon, "that I have often known similar
things to come to pass, and have seen men who were deemed rustic
blockheads deceive very shrewd people. None can be more foolish than
he who thinks himself shrewd, nor wiser than he who knows his own
nothingness."
"Still," said Parlamente, "a man who knows that he knows nothing, knows
something after all."
"Now," said Simontault, "for fear lest time should fail us for our
discourse, I give my vote to Nomerfide, for I am sure that her rhetoric
will keep us no long while."
"Well," she replied, "I will tell you a tale such as you desire.
"I am not surprised, ladies, that love should afford Princes the means
of escaping from danger, for they are bred up in the midst of so many
well-informed persons that I should marvel still more if they were
ignorant of anything. But the smaller the intelligence the more clearly
is the inventiveness of love displayed, and for this reason I will
relate to you a trick played by a priest through the prompting of love
alone. In all other matters he was so ignorant that he could scarcely
read his mass."
