The Return of Martin Guerre

“To be accepted by the village they had to take on some Languedoc ways. Daguerre became Guerre; if Pierre had used the Basque form of his name, Betrisanz or even Petri, he now changed it. Sanxi’s wife probably continued to carry baskets of grain on her head, but she restitched her headdress and the decorations on her skirt so as to fit in with her neighbors.” 

Davis presents the ordinary ways in which ordinary people change their identities, establishing early in the text that such changes are typical of this society at this time. These observations suggest that minor fabrications like the changing of one’s own family name are actually essential to ensuring smooth interactions between the members of this society. Already, Davis is showing sympathy for Arnaud, who later in the book changes his name and identity in a much more dramatic and fraudulent fashion than the Daguerres, with a clear intent to deceive the wife of the real Martin, other Guerre family members, and all of the villagers of Artigat.

“Martin dreamed of life beyond the confines of fields of millet, of tileworks, properties, and marriages.” 

Davis speculates here of the life that may have made Martin feel happier. Earlier in the book, Davis has characterized Martin as a man unsatisfied with his life, as it seemed not to belong to him in the first place. His marriage to Bertrande was arranged by his father, and proved to be disastrous. His relationship with Bertrande could not have been easy, and the eight years before the birth of his son may have been fraught for both husband and wife. Working the land and dealing with the family business and family properties may have bored him or overwhelmed him. So, within months of his son’s birth, Martin left for Spain. Davis presents evidence he worked as a lackey in a grand home and as a soldier, which suggests he wanted to escape the constraints of peasant domestic life.

“The realities of this peasant world encouraged not only the skills of a good farm wife, but the wife’s ability to get her way with the men and to calculate her advantages, say, in remaining a widow.”

Davis comments here on the patriarchy of peasant life in medieval France and the lack of agency many women experience while living within the constraints of this society. Within this rigid system of patriarchy, a woman must manipulate the rights that are accorded to her depending on her status as daughter, wife, and eventually, widow. Wives and widows have rights and advantages unique to their situation, and when Martin abandons Bertrande, she has neither set of privileges. Worse, she must return to her mother’s home with her child, which means that her stepfather, Pierre Guerre, is now the head of her household. This situation may have influenced her to be complicit in Arnaud’s fraud when he arrived to Artigat; though the new Martin was not her real husband, she may have seen him as an opportunity to live more freely and happily than under the roof of her stepfather.

“Bertrande’s status was much reduced by all these events. Neither wife nor widow, she was under the same roof as her mother again. Neither wife nor widow, she had to face the other village women at the mill, the well, the tileworks, and at the harvest. And there was no easy remedy for her in the law.”

When Martin leaves his wife and baby son behind, Bertrande’s situation changes dramatically for the worse. She no longer has the means to run her own household, and she must live indefinitely with uncertainty and the humiliation of knowing that everyone knows her husband has left her. Davis characterizes Bertrande as a stubborn woman who knew her own mind, so this situation may have been very difficult for her. As well, Bertrande was again under the same roof as her mother, which means that she was under the same roof as Pierre Guerre, who was married to her mother, and Davis characterizes him as a powerful personality. The subtext of this scenario suggests that a strong-minded woman like Bertrande may not have coped well with a similarly strong-minded man and head of house like Pierre.

“He became known as Pansette, ‘the belly,’ a man with big appetites, and he must have loved the carnivals, the costuming, the dancing, and all the games of the festive ‘youth abbeys’ (youth groups), which were so marked a part of village life in Gascony.” 

This early characterization of Arnaud sets him up more as a joker who enjoys playing with appearances, and less as a criminal with a tawdry past. Davis also presents Arnaud as a hedonist who enjoys life, and, often, this kind of light-hearted personality inspires fun in others. Arnaud may have had some attractive qualities that Bertrande may have preferred over her original husband, who clearly had a complicated personality. If Bertrande did indeed enjoy Arnaud’s company, then Davis would have more evidence to support Davis’s argument that Bertrande knew well that the new Martin was an imposter and chose deliberately to go along with his ruse. Bertrande did not have a very positive experience with Martin, and so she may have enjoyed the new Martin and found happiness and true passion in the fraudulent relationship.

“Was it so unusual for a man in sixteenth-century villages and burgs to change his name and fashion a new identity? Some of this went on all the time.” 

Davis’s casual tone and rhetorical question emphasizes her sympathy for Arnaud du Tilh. She clearly believes that his choice to take Martin Guerre’s identity and life is not unusual for the time and place. Her justification reassures the reader that Arnaud wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary by taking on Martin’s identity, and that he is in fact just an ordinary man trying to make his ordinary way in the somewhat fluid and open peasant world of sixteenth-century France. Davis normalizes Arnaud’s decision, perhaps to minimize the crime and the fraud in order; this act of minimalization could work to emphasize the idealized notion that Arnaud and Bertrande were entitled to their adulterous, phony marriage because they actually liked each other.

“But the obstinate and honorable Bertrande does not seem a woman so easily fooled, not even by a charmer like Pansette. By the time she had received him in her bed, she must have realized the difference; as any wife of Artigat would have agreed, there is no mistaking ‘the touch of the man on the woman.’ Either by explicit or tacit agreement, she helped him become her husband.”

Davis ponders Bertrande’s role as accomplice in the invented marriage in this passage, giving Bertrande’s character depth, intelligence, and a canny ability to remember the feeling of her physical relationship with the real Martin. This passage also foreshadows Arnaud’s recollections during his trial of various sexual episodes between Bertrande and Martin; in an attempt to prove that he was the actual Martin, he spoke of their sex life, which suggests that Bertrande had spoken openly with Arnaud about the sexual problems she experienced with Martin. Davis is convinced of Bertrande’s involvement in Arnaud’s fraud but her version of Bertrande contradicts the victim status Coras gave Bertrande in Arrest Memorable.

“It is possible, even probable, that the new Martin and Bertrande de Rols were becoming interested in the new religion, in part because they could draw from it another justification for their lives.”

Davis posits that Arnaud and Bertrande would have moved away from Catholicism and leaned towards Protestantism as a way to justify their adulterous, and in Bertrande’s case, bigamous, relationship. A Protestant couple engaged in an unlawful and sinful relationship may have been less fearful of their transgressions because Protestantism does not grant marriage the status of a sacrament. As well, Protestants do not have to partake in confession, a Catholic practice that ensures that believers unburden themselves of their sins and do their duties to atone to God. Perhaps not having to admit out loud to adultery and bigamy made the religious and legal violations somehow less worrying

“For Pierre Guerre, however, the new Martin had gone too far. It may be that he felt the circumstances of Martin’s absence did not entitle him to any rewards.” 

Davis suggests here that perhaps Pierre Guerre had suspected all along that the new Martin was an imposter and that Pierre had chosen to allow the new Martin to live peacefully, until a particular moment in time. This moment in time came when the new Martin attempted to capitalize on the property that Sanxi Guerre, Pierre’s brother, had left for his son Martin when Sanxi died. If Davis is correct, then Pierre may not have cared about Bertrande’s bigamy and adultery; after all, Bertrande and the new Martin had a daughter together, and because the first child, born months before Martin’s abrupt departure was a son, he would be the rightful heir to his father’s goods and properties. 

“If I were to hazard a guess about the Martin Guerre case, it would be that the local Protestant sympathizers tended to believe the new Martin and the Catholics tended to believe Pierre Guerre.” 

Davis makes a case here for the division of opinion amongst the villagers who eventually became witnesses at the trial in Toulouse. Unusually for Davis, she acknowledges that she is “hazarding a guess,” which is a departure from her more assertive style of creative interpretation. This clear statement of guesswork suggests that perhaps Davis’s arguments around Catholicism and Protestantism are not the strongest nor the most well-supported of the book.

“Not that Arnaud was the only liar in Artigat: we have just caught Pierre Guerre in a falsehood, and we will hear of others before we are done. But a big lie, a whopper—especially one imposed by a single person on others—has troublesome consequences both for personal feelings and for social relationships.” 

Davis compares Arnaud’s deception with Pierre’s and the lies of other villagers, and acknowledges that Arnaud’s lie was the biggest and the most impactful. Again, her word choice is noticeably forgiving: Arnaud’s lie is a “whopper,” a child’s term for a stretching of the truth, and the consequences aren’t criminal, they are simply “troublesome.” She associates Arnaud’s lies with those of Pierre Guerre, who lied to the court, claiming that Bertrande had sent him to make a complaint about a strange man who had stolen her husband’s rightful place in their marriage. Some may view Pierre’s lie as justifiable because his lie enabled the truth to become plain, but others may view Pierre’s lie as abominable because it ruined the imagined happiness of a possibly well-matched couple. 

“But how, in a time without photographs, with few portraits, without tape recorders, without fingerprinting, without identity cards, without birth certificates, with parish records still irregular if kept at all—how did one establish a person’s identity beyond doubt?”

The peasants of Artigat all found it relatively easy to believe Arnaud du Tilh when he insisted he was Martin Guerre and provided context for their shared experience. Without the objective devices of modern day to prove objectively a person’s identity, the whole notion of personal identity has fluidity, a fluidity that enabled Arnaud to do what he did. When Arnaud, who is characterized as a clever and opportunistic man, was mistaken for Martin Guerre in Mane, he saw his opportunity to take full advantage of his supposed resemblance to Martin Guerre. Arnaud seized his chance, and his brazenness was temporarily rewarded.

“She had to manipulate the image of the woman-easily-deceived, a skill that women often displayed before officers of justice any time it was to their advantage.”

Davis deepens her characterization of Bertrande as an astute and intelligent woman in charge of her own life and her future with this description. According to Davis’s research, peasant women knew how to operate within the confines of patriarchal society and use whatever opportunities came their way for their own benefit. Davis places her views of peasant women like a filter on Bertrande, and while it is possible that Bertrande had this particular skill, it is impossible to say with certainly if she actually did or not. This passage reflects the limitations of speculative history, which presents ideas that are difficult to prove, though they may be interesting to ponder.

“If the wife of Martin Guerre was divided, the new Martin seemed never so whole as during the trials.” 

Bertrande de Rols had to keep her wits about her throughout the trial, as Davis argues that she had to juggle two roles during the trial; Bertrande had to protect herself and her interests no matter the outcome of the ruling. If the new Martin was found guilty of fraud, she had to ensure her honor was intact and that she was an innocent and over-trusting victim of fraud. If the new Martin was found innocent and the charges against him were dismissed, Bertrande had to ensure that he never doubted her loyalty to their relationship. While Bertrande’s interests were split, Arnaud’s was singularly uniform, as he was on trial for both his assumed life and his actual life; if he was found guilty, he would be executed. Arnaud had many reasons to motivate him to present a whole picture of himself as the true Martin Guerre.

“The Chamber decided that Jean de Coras would be the reporter for the proceedings, which meant that he would look closely into the issues and finally prepare a report on all the arguments and make a recommendation for the sentence.” 

Though the role the Criminal Chamber invested in Coras suggests that he was a man respected for his legal acumen and keen sense of fairness, Davis considers Coras’s report flawed. Davis identifies exaggerations and omissions in Coras’s document, which suggests that the execution of Arnaud may have been unnecessary. Coras was also deeply sympathetic to Arnaud, calling his death and the outcome of the trial a tragedy, so it is likely that Arnaud and Bertrande would have continued their pretend marriage had the real Martin not interrupted the proceedings.

“The Criminal Chamber was about to make its final judgment of the case, opinions being ‘more disposed to the advantage of the prisoner and against the said Pierre Guerre and de Rols,’ when a man with a wooden leg appeared at the buildings of the Parlement of Toulouse. He said his name was Martin Guerre.”

The timing of Martin Guerre’s return was cinematic in its perfection. As soon as he became aware of the interloper, Arnaud du Tilh accused the real Martin of being a fake Martin who had been paid by Pierre Guerre to incriminate Arnaud. Arnaud’s protestations must have enhanced the drama of Martin’s entrance, according to Coras’s description of the episode. The Chamber was about to dismiss the charges against Arnaud and take action against Pierre Guerre for falsely accusing an innocent man so the irony of Martin Guerre’s timing was acute.

“The original Martin Guerre may have come back to repossess his identity, his persona, before it was too late"

Throughout the story of Martin Guerre, timing is everything. Davis states that it was unclear if Martin Guerre found out about the trial and then decided to return to Artigat, or if Martin was on his way home anyway, and arrived in the nick of time. Either way, had Martin appeared in Artigat after Arnaud’s case had been dismissed and he had resumed his place in society as the new Martin Guerre, it would have been too late. Pierre at this point would have been criminalized himself and found guilty of the crime of false accusation; Pierre also would have been made to look foolish, greedy, and inexplicably hostile.

“The accused seemed to have an air of magic about him. Trying to take him off guard, President de Mansencal asked him how he had involved the evil spirit that taught him so much about the people of Artigat. Coras said that he paled and for one hesitated, to the judge a sure sign of guilt. This reaction, I think, may have resulted not only from the defendant’s sense of danger, but also from anger that his natural skills were being so misrepresented.”

Throughout much of the book, Davis emphasizes Arnaud’s abilities to make Bertrande a happy wife while minimizing Arnaud’s sordid past as a thief and a hedonist. The negative sides to Arnaud’s character lessen in importance as his positive qualities take on heroic proportions. So, when Arnaud’s skills at posturing were described as magical, Davis actually employs some objectivity by suggesting that he took umbrage at being misunderstood as a magician and not as a clever man who had it in him naturally to fool everyone. This objective view of Arnaud implies that he is an egotist, which risks making him less appealing, an unusual choice for Davis.

“Lawyers, royal officers, and would-be courtiers knew all about self-fashioning—to use Stephen Greenblatt’s term—about the molding of speech, manners, gesture, and conversation that had helped them to advance, as did any newcomer to high position in the sixteenth century.” 

By mentioning the tendency of well-reputed men, like lawyers and courtiers, to self-fashion at this time in the history, Davis may be suggesting that Arnaud’s fraud is only slightly more egregious than the minor fraud of “self-fashioning” in general. These efforts at making oneself more presentable and more respectable were widely accepted, so perhaps Davis thinks that Arnaud’s sentencing of punishment by execution in front of the Guerre house in Artigat was much too harsh.

“Here one can approve the cuckolding of the once impotent and now faraway husband. Here Arnaud du Tilh becomes a kind of hero, a more real Martin Guerre than the hard-hearted man with the wooden leg. The tragedy is more in his unmasking than in his imposture.” 

Here, Davis’s sympathy for Arnaud du Tilh and for Bertrande de Rols, who lost her only chance at a happy marriage when Arnaud was found guilty of fraud and executed, is clear. She echoes Coras’s use of the word “tragedy” in this passage, as she idealizes Arnaud’s misrepresentation of himself. Davis, in her sympathy for his and Bertrande’s relationship, chooses to ignore the criminal behavior and, instead, she chooses to appreciate the genuine human warmth that she believes must have existed between Bertrande and Arnaud (and was clearly lacking in Bertrande’s marriage to Martin).

“Le Sueur’s work followed the expected path of a news account as it is printed and reprinted and transformed into a popular legend.”

Though Coras’s Arrest Memorable provided Davis with most of the facts detailing the events of the trial and the circumstances surrounding the trial, she credits Guillaume Le Sueur for writing the work that made the story of Martin Guerre a legend. The popularity of Le Sueur’s news report assured that the story would live on in the annals of marriage law and sixteenth-century French peasant history.

“The legs of Martin Guerre and Arnaud du Tilh had also been a source of controversy, but was even the man ‘arrived from Spain with a wooden leg’ all that clear a sign?”

When witnesses were called to testify in support of the new Martin or against him, some of them mentioned the physical characteristics of the man as proof of either his innocence or his guilt. Martin was remembered as having longer, more slender legs, which did not match the short, stocky stature of the new Martin, creating a controversy. Ironically, Martin’s arrival with a wooden leg may have drawn even more attention to this particular detail of the men’s physiques. 

“If she were an adulterer, then he was a cuckold…She had to live down her easy acceptance of the imposter, his irresponsible desertion of the family.”

Davis supposes that Martin and Bertrande resumed their life together after the execution of Arnaud du Tilh, and this passage addresses the terms of their reunion. Martin and Bertrande would have had to forgive each other for some difficult offenses, and Davis suggests that they are equally at fault and equally responsible for whatever challenges they faced while reconciling. Both Bertrande and Martin brought shame upon themselves and each other, which brings an interesting balance to their power dynamic as a married couple.