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Once upon a time, a hundred years and more agone, there lived a rich
villein; his name I know not for certain, but he was rich as beseemeth
a great lord in woodland, stream and meadow, and in whatsoever else
longeth to a puissant man. And to tell you the sum thereof, his manor
was so goodly no town, or burg, or castle hath its like, for to tell
you true, in all the world is none other so fair and delectable; and if
any were to show you its form and fashion, the tale would seem to you
but fable, for none, methinketh, could ever make such a keep, or so
mighty a tower. Round about it ran a river, encircling all the close,
that the orchard, which was of great price, was all walled in by wood
and water. Wise was the gentle knight who contrived it, but from him it
went to his son, who sold it to this villein; so passed it from hand to
hand: and wit ye well, an ill heir ofttimes bringeth thorpe and manor
into dishonour.
Fair as man can desire was that orchard, and therein grew many an herb
whose name I know not; yet may I tell you of a truth there were roses
and flowers that gave forth a strong and pleasant fragrance; and such
manner of spices grew there that if any creature, suffering from
sickness and infirmity, were brought thither in a litter, and lay in
that orchard but for the space of a single night, he would go forth
healed and strong; so rich it was in goodly herbs. And the meadow was
so level even that in it was neither hill nor hollow, and all the
tree-tops were of one height; no other orchard close so fair was there
in all the world. Ask ye not of its fruit, for none such shall ye find;
but in the garden they ripened in every season. Wise was he who contrived
it, and by enchantment he wrought it, whereof within was many a proof.
Full great was the orchard and wide, like a round ring in its form; and
in its midst was a fountain whose waters were clear and fresh, and ran
so swiftly they seemed to boil in fury, yet was it colder than marble.
A goodly tree gave shade there, wide reaching were the branches and
cunningly trained; good store of leaves there were, for in the longest
day of summer, when came the month of May, ye could not see a ray of
the sun, so leafy was it. Full dear should that tree be held, for its
kind was such that it kept its leaves in all seasons, and neither wind
nor storm had might to strip its bark or its branches.
Pleasant and delectable was that green tree; and to it twice each day,
and no more, came a bird to sing, in the morning namely, and again at
eventide. So wondrous fair was the bird it were over long to tell you
all its fashion. More small it was than the sparrow, yet somewhat
greater than the wren, and it sang so sweetly and fairly that know
ye of a sooth, not nightingale, nor merle, nor mavis, nor starling,
methinketh, nor voice of lark or calender, were so good to hear as was
its song. And it was so ready with refrains and lays and songs and
new tunes, that harp, or viol, or rebec were as nought beside it. So
wondrous was its song that never before was its like heard of living
man, for such was its virtue that no man might be so sorrowful, but if
he heard it sing, he must straightway rejoice, and forget all heaviness
and grief; and though he had never before spoken of love, now was he
kindled by it, and deemed himself worshipful as king or emperor, though
he were but villein or burgess; and even had he passed his hundredth
year, if, as he yet lingered in the world, he heard the song of the
bird, he deemed himself then but as a youth and a stripling, and so
comely, he must be loved of ladies and maids and damsels. But yet
another wondrous virtue had it; for that orchard might not endure, if
the bird came not thither to sing its sweet refrain; for out of song
issueth love, which giveth their virtue to flower and tree and coppice;
whereas, if the bird were gone, the orchard would straightway wither,
and the fountain run dry, for that they kept their virtue only by
reason of the song.
Now it was the wont of the villein, who was master there, to come twice
each day to hear this sweetness. So on a morning, he came to the fountain
beneath the tree to wash his face in the waters; and from the branches
the bird sang to him loud and clear a song of most delectable cadence;
good was the lay to hear, and ensample might one draw therefrom whereby
one were bettered at the last. For in his language the bird said:
"Listen ye to my song, both knight and clerk and layman, all ye who have
to do with love, and suffer his torments; and to ye likewise I speak, ye
maids fair and sweet, who would have the world for your own. And I tell
you of a sooth, ye should love God before all things, and hold his law
and his commandments; go ye with good heart to the minster, and give
heed to the holy office, for to hear God's service cometh not amiss to
any man; and to tell you true, God and love are of one accord. For God
loveth honour and courtesy, and true Love despiseth them not; God hateth
pride and treachery, and Love likewise holdeth them in despite; God
giveth ear to sweet prayer, and from it Love turneth not away; and above
all else God desireth largesse, for in him is nought of ill, but good
only. The misers are the envious hearted, and it is the jealous who
are the covetous; the churlish are the wicked, and the traitors are the
vile; but wisdom and courtesy, honour and loyalty uphold Love; and if ye
hold to this ye may have both God and the world." So sang the bird his
lay.
But when he saw the churl, who was cruel and envious, sit listening
beneath the tree, then sang he in another manner: "Flow ye no more,
O river; waste to ruin, ye donjons; and towers, fall ye down; fade, ye
flowers; dry and wither, ye herbs; bear no more fruit, ye trees; for
here, of old, clerks and knights and ladies were wont to give ear to me,
who held the fountain full dear, and drew delight from my song, and
loved the better _par amors_; and by reason of it they did much largess,
and practised courtesy and prowess, and upheld chivalry; but now am I
heard only by a churl, who is full of envy, and to whom silver and gold
are more dear than the service of Love; the knights and ladies came to
hear me for delight, and for Love's sake, and to lighten their hearts,
but this man cometh only that he may eat the better and drink the
better."
And when the bird had so sung it flew away; and the churl, who yet
lingered there, bethought him if he might not take it; easily might he
sell it full dear, or, if he could not sell it, he would shut it up in a
cage that it might sing to him early and late. So he contrived a device,
and arranged it; he sought and looked and spied until he made sure of
the branches whereon the bird sat oftenest; then he maketh a snare and
spread it,--well hath he contrived the thing. And when eventide came,
the bird returned again to the orchard, and so soon as it lighted on
the tree was straightway taken in the net. Thereupon the villein, the
caitiff, the felon, climbeth up and taketh the bird. "Such reward hath
he ever that serveth a churl, methinketh," saith the bird. "Now ill
hast thou done in that thou hast taken me, for of me shalt thou get
small ransom." "Yet shall I have many a song of this capture," quoth the
villein; "before, ye served according to your own will, but now shall ye
serve after mine."
"This throw is evilly divided, and the worser half falleth to me,"
saith the bird. "Of old, I had field and wood and river and meadow,
according to my desire, but now shall I be prisoned in a cage; never
again shall I know joy and solace. Of old, I was wont to live by prey,
now must I, like any prisoner, have my meat doled out to me. Prithee,
fair, sweet friend, let me go; for be ye sage and certain never will
I sing as prisoner." "By my faith, then I will eat you up; on no other
terms shall ye escape." "Poor victual shall ye find in me, so small and
slight am I; and if ye kill so frail a thing, in no wise shall your
worship be increased. To slay me were very sin, but it were a good deed
to set me free." "By my faith, ye speak idly, for the more you beseech
me the less will I do." "Certes," saith the bird, "ye say well, for so
runneth the law; and often have we heard it said that fair reasoning
angers the churl. But a proverb teacheth and showeth us that necessity
is a hard master; here my strength may not avail me, but if you will
set me free, I will make you wise with three wisdoms that were never
yet known to any man of your lineage, and which would much avail you."
"If I may have surety thereof, I will do it straightway," saith the
villein. "Thereto I pledge you all my faith," the bird made answer;
and forthright the villein let him go.
So the bird that had won his freedom by ready speech, taketh flight to
the tree; all spent he was, and ruffled, for he had been rudely handled,
and all his plumage turned awry. With his beak as best he might, he
smoothed and ordered his feathers; but the churl, who was fain of the
three wisdoms, admonished him to speak. Full of craft was that bird, and
he saith: "If thou givest good heed, great lore shalt thou learn: _Set
not thy trust in all thou hearest._" But the villein frowned in anger:
"That knew I already," quoth he. "Fair friend, henceforth hold it well
in mind, and forget it not." Quoth the churl: "Now in sooth may I look
to learn wisdom! He who biddeth me bear this in mind, doth but jibe;
but certes, when you escape me again, no man else shall you mock:--but
I brag over late. Wherefore, now tell me the next wisdom, for this one
I know well."
"Give good heed," saith the bird, "fair and goodly is the second: _Weep
not for that thou hast never had._" Then the churl could not hold his
peace, but answered all in anger: "Thou hast belied thy pledge to me;
three wisdoms thou wert to teach me--so thou didst promise me--that were
never yet known to any of my kin; but every man knoweth this, for there
is none so foolish, or ever was, that he would weep for what was never
his. Sorely hast thou lied to me." Thereupon the bird made answer:
"Wouldst thou that I say them over to thee lest thou forget them? Ye are
so ready of speech I fear for thy memory; methinketh ye will not bear
the wisdoms in mind." "I know them better than you yourself," quoth the
churl, "and long ago knew them. Foul fall him who shall ever thank you
for showing him that in which he was already wise. By my head, I am not
so untaught as ye deem me, and it is but because ye have escaped me that
ye now mock me. But if ye hold by your covenant with me, ye will tell
me the third wisdom, for of these two I have full understanding. Now
speak out at your will, in that I have no power over you; tell me its
substance, and I will give heed to it."
"Listen well, and I will tell you: the third is of such a nature that
whosoever knoweth it will never be a poor man." Greatly the churl
rejoiced when he heard the virtue of that wisdom, and saith: "This I
needs must know, for riches I dearly desire." Lo, how he urgeth the
bird, and saith: "It is time to eat, so tell me now speedily." And when
the bird heard him, it maketh answer: "I warn thee, churl, that ye _Let
not fall to your feet that which you hold in your hand_." All angry was
the villein: for a long time he spoke not, and then he asketh: "And is
there nought else? These are the sooth-sayings of children, for well
I ween that many a man poor and in want knoweth this, even as thou
knowest; ye have duped me and lied to me, for all that ye have shown
me I was wise in before."
Then the bird maketh answer: "By my faith, and if thou hadst known this
last wisdom, never wouldst thou have let me go, for if thou hadst killed
me as thou didst think to do, never, by my eyes, had there dawned a day
ye had not been the better for it." "Ha, in God's name, what good had ye
been?" "Ahi, foul churl, ill son of an ill race, thou knowest not what
hath befallen thee; thou hast sorely miscarried. In my body is a gem of
great worth and price, and of the weight of three ounces; its virtue is
so great that whoso hath it in his possession may never wish for aught,
but straightway he hath it at his hand."
Now when the churl heard this, he beat his breast, and tore his
garments, and rent his face with his nails, and cried out woe and alas.
But the bird, who watched him from the tree, had great joy thereof. It
waited until he had torn all his raiment, and wounded himself in many a
place; then it said to him: "Wretched churl, when thou didst hold me in
thy hand I was smaller than sparrow, or tit, or finch, which weigheth
not so much as half an ounce." And the villein who groaneth in anger,
saith: "By my faith, ye say true." "Churl, now mayest thou see well I
have lied to thee concerning the gem." "Now I know it of a sooth, but
certes, at first I believed thee." "Churl, now have I proved to thee on
the spot thou knewest not the three wisdoms; and, for what thou didst
say to me, that no man is, or ever was, so foolish he would weep for
that he had never had, now, meseemeth, thou thyself makest lament for
what was never thine and never will be. And when you had me in your
snare, then did you cast down to your feet that which you held in your
hand. So have you been brought to shame by the three wisdoms; henceforth,
fair friend, hold them in mind. Good it is to learn goodly lore, for
many a one heareth yet understandeth not, many a one speaketh of wisdom
who is yet no whit wise in thought, many a one speaketh of courtesy who
knoweth nought of the practice thereof, and many a man holdeth himself
for wise who is given over to folly."
Now when the bird had so spoken, it took flight, and departed, never to
return again to the garden. The leaves fell from the tree, the orchard
failed and withered, the fountain ran dry, whereby the churl lost all
his delight. Now know ye one and all that the proverb showeth us clearly
that he who covets all, loses all.
_explicit_ li Lais de l'Oiselet.