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From The Inns of the Middle Ages, by W. C. Firebaugh, Chicago: Pascal Covici; 1924; pp. 157-171.
[This book is primarily composed of an uncredited translation of Histoire des hotelleries, cabarets, hotels garnis, restaurants et cafés, et des anciennes commonautés et confréries: d’hoteliers, de marchands de vins, de restaurateurs, de limonadiers, etc., etc., by Francisque Xavier Michel and Edouard Fournier, Paris: Librarie Historique, Archéologique, et Scientifique de Seré, 1851. — Elf.Ed.
THE INNS OF THE MIDDLE AGES
[257]In the ages that had gone before, the people had lived more on the produce of the land than upon the beasts of the field, and their beverages were milder in proportion. Fish was consumed to a much greater degree in the older times, and dairy products as well. Tillage on a small scale, as for example, amongst the tenant-farmers on all the great landed estates, produced abundance of cereals at a moderate cost, and green vegetables graced the tables of the lowly as well as the wealthy. It was not an age in which preserved foods were used, as they were then unknown. Bacon was generally in use in place of beef, and the fact that bread was cheap and butcher’s meat dear augured well for the public health of the state. Grain-beer, ale, and ciders were the drinks of the laboring classes, and the vintages of Spain and France were known only to the nobles or to the money lending classes.
When, however, we reach the middle of the sixteenth century, we are confronted with one of those mysterious phenomena of evolution upon which the fate of nations depends. It is not easy to account satisfactorily for this change which took place, this social renaissance, which so much resembles our own American problem of the day, in which the current sets toward the cities and away from the land. Agriculture was slowly displaced and grazing began to be the calling most in vogue. Grains advanced in [258] price, while coarse meats came down. Bacon and fish were less in demand; game and poultry came to be considered as luxuries, and vegetables were practically never seen in the green state.
The masses were nourished on salt beef, or upon inferior mutton, poorly roasted. The meal and flour were weevily or mouldy, full of grit; such rye as was available was probably spurred and caused much sickness. All this ill-balanced diet, which was subject to little change, was washed down with potent liquor, even the ale undergoing a change for the worse, and the composition of a tankard of strong ale was as elaborate as the brewing of pot of burnt sack or negus.
In former times, the monarchs of England had exerted the whole power of the realm to protect their title to Gascony and the Southwest of France. The external trade was heavy, as Froissard has pointed out, and if, at that time, as many as three hundred vessels cleared from English ports for Bordeaux, we may well believe that the cargoes carried consisted largely of wines of the occupied provinces. Hence Chaucer’s allusion to the sailor’s smuggling is no mere chance statement. Though the English fought hard, in the Hundred Years War, to over-run France, they fought still hare to prevent their own expulsion from the southern provinces, and the wine famine that was certain to ensue among the elect.
With the signing of the peace, there arrived a better understanding with Spain and Italy, and the clarets of France gave place to the luscious and fiery vintages of the new allies, and the crown proceeded to [259] lease to favored individuals, certain rights in the customs, a classical example being the wine licenses issued to Sir Walter Raleigh. When Henry VIII invaded France, his army was well supplied with the vintages of Spain, and the Peace of the Cloth of Gold resulted therefrom.
The light French vintages that had been so much in demand amongst the robust yeomanry of Edward III, such as were consumed by Chaucer and his party at the Tabard, were not of sufficient potency for their mouthier descendants, who served Shakespeare as the models from which he drew Bardolph and Pistol; they were but “thin potations” to Mrs. Quickly’s guests at the Boar’s Head. When she informs Doll Tearsheet that her canary is a “marvellous searching wine,” she at least sticks as closely to the truth as was her wont.
We have spoken above of the usefulness of taverns in matters of espionage; it remains to say that the taverns, though they pandered to many of the vices of society, covered much its naked hideousness. The sanctuaries of the past made admirable penitentiaries, the monastic [hospitian] anticipated the needs of the poor-houses, and the ancient ale-houses were the snares in which criminals were often caught red-handed.
Though tavern brawls have resulted in the death of many famous authors, yet these frays very seldom had a fatal ending, and when some bully did break the head of an enemy, he rarely escaped the full penalty of his crime, and society was doubly benefited.
Though it would probably be impossible at this [260] time to estimate the number of taverns and ale-houses, in [portion ? should be proportion?] to the needs of the population, and in an earlier age they were certainly not in excess of the wants of the traveller, yet we may gain a vague idea by the returns from a few of the counties, returns which were procured to enable the government, at its wits end for money, to re-impose a license on every such establishment. Thus the Council in 1577, ordered exact statistics on the number of taverns and ale-houses in the entire country, in order that it might annul the licenses in force and issue new ones at half a crown each. This was to be used to complete the harbor improvements at Dover. Exactions of this sort, while highly profitable at the time, were also excellent precedents for future action, and not long after, the citizens of Canterbury petitioned the crown for a grant out of the impositions on ale-houses, as they were the tippling houses of the times, and the inn or tavern, when not used primarily as a wine cellar, seems to have been the genuine descendant of the hospice of former ages.
We come at last to the furnishings of the taverns of those times, and we shall take Chaucer’s Tabard as our model.
The “darke parlour” is on the ground floor, facing the street, and on this same floor are a hall and a general reception room called the “parlour,” which was probably the dining-room of the house, as it led into the kitchen. Underneath the “darke parlour” was a cellar, and in storey above the first floor were three rooms, the “middle chamber,” “the corner [261] chamber,” and another known as Maister Hussyes’ chamber,” with garrets or cook-lofts above.
The story over the “great parlour” contained another room; and there were also an “entry chamber,” a “newe chamber,” a “flower de luce,” and one other, the location of which is not specified in the legal description of the inn. There was also a warehouse, probably under a separate roof, a coal-hole, an oven-house, a double stable with an oat-loft over it, and a similar stable with a hay-loft over it.
In the matter of furniture, the host and guests would not have been as well off as today, but the tastes were not as difficult to please then, as at the present time. We must remember that, aside from any Roman baths, the first hot water plumbing in England was due to Wellington, and that there are still many rural districts in which there is no plumbing whatsoever.
There would be a great variety of kettles, both of copper and brass, pans, pots and basins. Brass or latten candlesticks, a chafing-dish and a mortar, tongs, pot-hooks, and irons; waffle-iron, skillet, dripping-pan, and steamer, all would be in evidence, and in the pantry we would find a complete graduation of pewter pots, from the pottle down to the gill; glasses, stone galley-pts, and trenchers.
It is the linen closet, however, which will startle even a modern boniface; by the profusion with which it is provided, and by its excellent quality and variety.
[262]A contemporary establishment boasted the following:
Sheets ------------------- 13
Tablecloths (damask) ------------------- 15
Doilies (damask) ------------------- 15
Cupboard Cloths ------------------- 3
Table Napkins ------------------- 62
Napkins (damask) ------------------- 72
Hand Towels ------------------- 22
Towels (damask) ------------------- 11
Pillow-cases ------------------- 11
An incredible quantity of fine unbleached linen, whether plain or figured, for curtains and drapes.
The sleeping accommodations were not inadequate; joined bedsteads, with feather beds, flock, standing, or trundle-beds; bolsters, such as they called the “Dutch widow,” pillows, blankets, and coverlets; these latter often being ornamental in the extreme, and the room was sure to have a multitude of hangings. The other furniture consisted of cupboards, side-boards, chests, tables, chairs, stools and benches. The floors were generally covered with rushes, but sometimes they were sanded. Often there were pictures, generally on religious pageantry, and it is worthy of note that at this time, the conventional Christ of our modern art, came into being on the continent.
In bringing our account of the taverns of the Middle Ages to a close, we will discuss briefly, one other powerful but obscure phase of the host’s influence in the community.
The keepers of the hedge pothouses on the continent, and the ale-houses in England were generally squalid merchandisers whose power for evil was limited by their opportunities for action. This was far from being the case, however, with those wily bonifaces who conducted pretentious establishments [263] in the larger cities and shire towns. The host in places such as these, unless he were a professional vintner or caterer, was often a member of some other trade guild, for example, that of the weavers, in which case he left the supervision of the tavern to his active partner, who was generally his wife. AS banking was in the hands of the workers of precious metals, in those times, and as their corporation was closed, a landlord of a profitable inn or tavern often had excellent opportunities to loan funds on the intangible security of future expectations, and thus secure not only the patronage of his silly dupes, but also their inheritance when they came into property.
He lodged and boarded these social butterflies, advanced them money encouraged them in dissipation, took an active interest n their affairs, to prevent his security from being made subject to dangerous mortgages, other than his own, transacted their legal business, and superintended their property. The case of Orlando, in “As You Like It,” and that of Gamelyn, are cases in point. This rosy cheeked and patient taverner would perform all these services for his gun the strength of a certain security, but when his time had arrived, when the heir came into his own, or when the bond could no longer be renewed with safety or profit, the darling of fortune had cause to repent him of his ways. Cases of this kind were extremely common; a silk clad courier, with a moustache which was the despair of every bird of paradise in the district, would run up a bill at the Rose and Crown, the Hare and Hounds, the Cauliflower, or some other establishment, and his clothes [264] and trinkets would be sequestered, valued at the host’s appraisal, and sold to satisfy the debt.
Then again there were sinister entanglements, such as often threatened the titles to properties.
The proprietor of the Castell Inn, near Smithfield Bars, was fortunate possessor of a favorable lease. The owner of the property was a gentleman well along in years, and perhaps not difficult of approach. He frequently visited his tenant’s place of business; in fact, he spent his declining years there, and received every care and attention. The boniface lent him money, and the hostess made all sort of savory roasts and caudles for him a time when spices were extravagantly costly. They ordered runlets of Rhenish wine, “and besides did serve his torne and occupye and dispose herself at his pleasure.”
Slanderous tongues were silenced by the statement that their honored guest had not, like Falstaff, “practiced upon the easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her serve his use both in purse and in person;” he was old, and whatever his inclinations, he was powerless to minister to them. After his death, the same delicate courtesies were bestowed upon his heir, the latter receiving money to bury his father, more cash was advanced to the young wife who accompanied her husband to London, and the young couple, with their retinue of servants and horses lodged and entertained to their hearts’ content.
When it was discovered that the family mansion was out of repair, that the roof and gutters needed replacing, and the out-buildings re-tiling, it was the landlord of the Castell Inn who saw to everything [265] and paid the bills. Coal and wood were provided lavishly, and everything made cosy and snug, all at the expense of this jolly host.
Furthermore, this same good Samaritan defrayed a the costs of administration, and when he himself was too ill to go in person, he hired an agent, “who travailed at his affairs in my stead, being then visited with sickness.”
At last, when everything had been done, when the heir was comfortably settled, the long suffering host presented his bill of account for all the disbursements made on behalf of the father and the son. The heir found this document so little to his taste that he called his benefactor an out an out usurer, and refused to pay, whereupon it is reasonable to suppose that, as all the host’s policy had been dictated by his yearning to own and possess the property adjacent to the Castell Inn, took such steps as caused this bit of land to revert to him and his in perpetua.
Another case of the kind happened in the fine old town of Chester. A youthful profligate was maintained and financed by a tavernkeeper, who reckoned on his guest’s future expectations to discharge the debt. The guest was lodged with a mercer, but he took his meals at the innkeeper’s table, and the host was also forced to furnish the money for the lodgings and for the silks and popinjay purchased of the mercer. This state of affairs continued for two years, the taverner standing all the expense, and in addition, paying for a saddle horse, and for the keeping and shoeing of another animal as well. Loans were of frequent occurence, and in addition [266] there were the costs of an action levied against the youthful prodigy, and these the host defrayed.
On the memorable occasion of the cock-fight at Wryme Hill, more funds were needed, and still more in order that he might go “to the boules to my coz. Mannering.”
Another item that bulked large in the score was ale, and there were several payments because a servant had been ordered to ride into Leicestershire, for the purpose of bringing back some “white hose lined with sarsenett.”
In summing up the situation, we may safely say that the masses must have some outlet for the energy that boils within them, and the various countries tolerated the unseemly taverns and stews for the same reason that the Chinese authorities tolerated opium dens. What has been said of these, applies also to Shakespeare’s reasons for writing “Measure for Measure,” and this may be one of the reasons why we, who are so far advanced that we tolerate nothing, “look back with curious eyes on those venerable institutions whose like can hardly now be endured amongst us.* [ no footnote for this ]
Such were the standards of hospitality in the past, and who are we to cavil at their lack of modern conveniences, and the ignorance of the sanitary practise of today? Let us end by summing up the situation as did an acute observer and an experienced traveller, in a newspaper article, bearing the date of April 28, 1924.
“What I went to your hostelry for, and what nine out of ten men go there for, is hospitality. And that’s one thing we don’t find.
[267]I found two things in your inn; obsequiousness and indifference,
“The obsequiousness was displayed by that portion of the help that was looking for tips; the indifference by those you couldn’t tip.
“Alow and aloft, venality and subservience stuck out all over these persons. Their acts and manners dumbly shriek, ‘how much is this fellow going to give us?”
“The impression I got was not that I was there to be made comfortable, but that I was there to be fleeced. I was not a guest, I was prey.”**
We have seen the tavern yield place to the [coffee house] and the tea shop in Merrie England, and we ourselves are at present undergoing the same change from the older order. We have also seen the [coffee-house] and its ilk yield place to the better class of taverns, and is it unpatriotic to hope that some sweet day, we may yet see a tankard of fine German brew with a collar of foam as thick and rich as cream, and, while we sip it, listen to the lovely woods of Ravinia, to Walter Damrosch as in the good old days?
* no footnote listed
** Chicago Herald and Examiner, April 28, 1924.
FINIS. (268) [BLANK]Note
1 Athenaeus, Lib. I, 61, Yonge’s translation.
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