Le Menagier de Paris [The Goodman of Paris]

Have you ever wondered what life was like for the ordinary housewife in the Middle Ages?  How did she manage the daily round of cooking, cleaning, shopping and looking after her husband and children?  How do we know? 

One of the best sources of information we have is a book written by a man known to us as the Menagier de Paris, or the Goodman of Paris, in which he has described all the domestic duties in detail for his new young wife.  He was in his sixties and she was an orphan of good birth aged about fifteen.  This age difference was not considered outrageous in the 1390s when he was writing; in fact such a marriage was thought to be a good match for both parties: the elderly husband got a new lease of life and the young bride got a ready-made household and a husband who had achieved a good station in life.  The bride in this case, being an orphan, had had no mother to instruct her in the arts of housewifery but her husband had been wed before so knew exactly what he wanted in a wife.  He says in the Prologue that since her youth excuses unwisdom, he will write this book of instruction for her, saying magnanimously:

I would that you know how to give good will and honour and service in great measure and abundance more than is fit for me, either to serve another husband, if you have one, after me, or to teach greater wisdom to your daughters, friends or others, if you list and have such need.  For the more you know the greater honour will be yours and the greater praise will therefore be unto your parents and to me and to others about you, by whom you have been nurtured.

In other words, her excellence as a housewife in the future will reflect the very high standards of his instructions. 

The Goodman’s book is written in three sections.  The first, he says, is to instruct her how to gain the love of God and the salvation your soul and also to win the love of your husband and to give you in this world that peace which should be in marriage.  The second section is on how to run the household and tend the garden.  The third and final section, which he never quite finished, describes suitable pastimes and amusements, how to feed and fly a falcon and a selection of riddles – an odd assortment of topics, designed to keep a young lady out of mischief. Incidentally, although this book was written by a Frenchman, there was even less difference between a French household then than there is now; only his list of suitable and convenient Parisian butchers and poulterers could not have applied to an English housewife of the same period.  His examples of perfect wives, such as Patient Griselda, would have been familiar in England – the story of Griselda is one of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.  Of greatest importance to the Goodman of Paris were the 7th article of section 1 – on how to be careful and thoughtful of your husband’s person; and the 4th article in section 2 – on how to prepare viands.  These are the sections we shall be looking at her

Loving your husband

So, what has changed in six hundred years?

Christine de Pisan gives her own version of how to treat a husband in her book, The Treasure of the City of Ladies.  She is talking to the wives of well-to-do merchants who have not been kind, with a view to their ultimate inheritance of their husbands’ businesses when they die.  While awaiting this happy outcome, the wife should:

      … administer the household with great care and prudence and be able to instruct the servants in the proper performance of their tasks.  Her children should be well taught, unspoiled and not too noisy: their nurses should keep them clean and well behaved.  The house should be so attractive and peaceful that the husband would always be happy to return home with friends to be entertained, such occasions allowing her to show off the handsome linen she had sewn and embroidered herself.  The wife should not only go to mass early and say her prayers devoutly, but should ensure that nothing was ever wasted that might be given to the poor, and share her own meat and wine with them. 

This paragon of virtue would not only keep on good terms with all her neighbours but would not talk too much either.

Care of clothes and the home

The Goodman of Paris and his wife were quite well off; he instructs her how to hire, fire and keep the servants in order and it is likely they were well provided with bedding and such like.  For a glimpse of the likely range of household goods for an English merchant’s household, we have the will of Ellen Langwith, the widow of a fairly wealthy London tailor, drawn up in 1480 [Logge 22].  Oddly, Ellen, seeming to have no heirs, leaves the bulk of her possessions to a certain John Brown, brother of her late serving maid.  John Brown is to have: the best feather bed and bolster, two blankets, a mattress, two pairs of large sheets, two down pillows with pillow beres [cases], a stained [dyed] tester and curtains, a coverlet of tapestry work, and a set of hangings of green buckram.  That just covers the bedding; more of Ellen Langwith’s will later. 

All this bedding had to be kept clean and sweet.  In fine weather, the sheets could be washed, being spread to dry and bleach in the sun on the grass or draped along the hedgerows.  But all the heavy woollen blankets, fur coverlets etc. also had to be kept fresh and, most important, free of moths, bed bugs, fleas and suchlike.  The Goodman of Paris informs his wife of the best methods of keeping both bedding and clothing free of undesirable inhabitants:

The Goodman also instructed his wife in the removal of grease spots and stains from clothes, using vinegar and white wine.  For the better off, garments could be made of silk, velvet, damask, fur or other fabrics which could not be washed.  In this event, John Russell, in his Boke of Nurture, gives clear instructions.

Clothes that could be washed, like shirts, shifts and undergarments [men wore ‘drawers’ like baggy boxer shorts with a drawstring; women wore a shift from neck to ankle but no bra or knickers] were made of linen and usually home stitched and embroidered, sometimes even the linen fabric itself was home spun and woven.  Washing actually improved the linen, bleaching and softening it the more it was washed.  The tailor’s widow, Ellen Langwith, bequeathed to Mistress Bowyer of Northampton, a short gown of black medley [probably a wool mixture] furred with lamb.  Her best blue gown, furred with marten, went to her cousin, Mistress Bounesley of Nottinghamshire; and a blue silk girdle decorated with silver and gilt ornaments was bequeathed to Mary Jakes, a draper’s wife.  This kind of clothing would have to be kept in good shape by brushing, shaking out, regular airing and storing amongst lavender, dried rose petals and herbs to keep them sweet-smelling and, hopefully, moth free.

Buying and wearing clothes

Clothes were so expensive and highly regarded that even the queen’s exchequer accounts of Isabella, queen of Edward II, show that she had the worn out hems of her gowns replaced, rather than pay out for entire new gowns.  This was at the beginning of the 14th century but, by the late 15th century, well-to-do people like the Pastons were sending their menfolk to London, armed with lengthy shopping lists: 

Incidentally, one item of indispensable apparel for the housewife, rarely mentioned or illustrated, was the apron.  Every wife would have worn one every day and its quality and colour would have indicated her social status.  Forget the crisp, dazzling white starched affairs of Victorian maids; medieval women wore aprons to keep their precious clothes clean: they would have been serviceable and wrap-around.  The poor would have worn an apron of rough, hard-wearing frieze, probably in its natural undyed brownish colour.  The better-off wives would have worn coloured aprons of linen, blue ones, dyed with woad, being a favourite Sunday-going-to-church colour.  For the wealthy, who had the time, an embroidered garment would be favourite but not too elaborate – remember the garment would need to be washed frequently.  Aprons were the badge of respectability so London’s prostitutes were banned from wearing them.

The Goodman of Paris was quite particular about how his young wife should dress and behave in public:

      Know, dear sister, that if you wish to follow my advice you will have great care and regard for what you and I can afford to do, according to our estate.  Have a care that you be honestly clad, without new devices outrageous headgear and without too much or too little frippery.  And before you leave your chamber and house, take care first that the collar of your shift and of your blanchette, cotte and surcotte do not hang out, one over the other, as happens with certain drunken, foolish or witless women, who have no care for their honour, nor for the honesty of their estate or of their husbands, and who walk with roving eyes and head horribly reared up like a lion, their hair straggling out of their wimples, and the collars of their shifts and cottes crumpled, the one upon the other, and who walk mannishly and bear themselves uncouthly before folk without shame.

While we are on the subject of behaviour, an anonymous verse, known as How the Good Wijf taughte Hir Doughtir, has down-to-earth instructions for young women, the point being that they will be more likely to capture a better husband if they behave suitably:

*burrel = cheap home-spun cloth


Childcare

Until they were seven years old, children were thought to lack moral reasoning and were in need of particularly close attention; it was part of the duties of the godparents, as promised at baptism, to keep their godchildren safe from fire and water – in an age of open fires and unguarded pots of boiling water, accidents could and did happen so easily.  Fewer children appear in London’s coroners’ inquests than in the countryside because there were fewer children in London and they had fewer accidents.  Surprisingly, this was because London children were better supervised even though their risks of dying from disease were probably greater than for their country cousins.  Childcare in London wasn’t organised but the streets and houses were crowded with adults going about their business and parishioners and neighbours seem to have taken the responsibility for intervening in the case of a child in trouble.  In the city, there was always someone about, whereas in the countryside, the child might be left at home in the care of a young sibling or disabled relative while family and neighbours were all away, working in the fields.

Both urban and rural children spent much of their first year swaddled in the cradle.  Bearing in mind the chilling and damp living conditions, swaddling might well have helped prevent chills.  It was also a way of keeping an infant safe and immobile.  Risking having a baby crawl about on the floor by an unguarded fire or out of the door into the street was too dangerous.  Although few children died of cradle fires in London, such fires were more common for one and two year olds in the countryside where cradles were set too close to the fire.  Evidence from the rural areas suggests babies were not swaddled all the time but were allowed to crawl about and, in rooms, halls or gardens, the urban mum probably allowed her infant the same freedom.

The baby’s first few months were, naturally, passive with the mother as the primary carer but life could still be hazardous: Matilda la Cambestere and her one- month-old daughter slept on the shop floor.  They were already asleep by curfew, but Matilda had left a lighted candle on the wall.  The candle fell onto the straw of the shop floor and they suffocated and were burned before the neighbours knew anything about it.  Calendar for Coroners’ Rolls of the City of London, 1337.  Joan, also only a month old, the daughter of Bernard de Irlaunde, indicates another risk for children in London.  Her parents lived in a rented shop in Queenhythe ward.  An hour before vespers, her mother left her in her cradle and, since it was a pleasant May evening, her parents left the shop door open.  While they were away, a pig came in and mortally bit the right side of the child’s head.  Pigs were strictly forbidden to be allowed to wander loose in the London streets but they frequently did so.  At length, her mother returned and snatched up the said Johanna and kept her alive until midnight. [Calendar for Coroners’ Rolls, 1322.]

For toddlers, life was even more fraught with danger.  Three-year-old Petronilla de Wintonia was killed outside her father’s house in August 1301 by a spirited horse, uncontrolled by its rider.  Margery Lopechaunt wandered outside her parents’ house in January 1339.  It was so cold, she entered a neighbour’s house where, going too close to the fire, she fell into a vessel of scalding water.  Margery Hilton worked for a London baker and was forced to take her five year old with her to work.  One of the baker’s apprentices beat the child so severely that it died two days later.  What does become apparent from the statistics of child deaths is that, both in the city and in the country, boys tended to follow their fathers outside, suffering accidents with farm tools, falling out of trees or into ponds; girls tended to stay home with mother, suffering more burns and scalds though there are cases also of outdoor activities, collecting water from the well being a time of hazard for small girls, all too liable to fall in.

Discipline was considered most important and it was believed that only corporal punishment could impress upon a child correct behaviour, moral judgement and adequate respect for their elders.  A five year old boy was in a neighbour’s house when he took a piece of wool and put it in his cap.  The lady of the house, chastising him, struck the said John with her right hand under his left ear.  He cried out and Isabella, his mother, raised the hue and cry and carried him home where he died.  The jurors apparently felt that his death was misadventure, a necessary disciplinary action that unfortunately killed the boy, and did not bring an indictment for homicide.

Bear in mind that the incidents listed above which seem to show that children must have perished at every turn, come from Coroners’ Rolls.  For the majority of childhood mishaps, the outcome would not have been fatal – for every mortality there must have been dozens, perhaps hundreds of near misses, resulting in the usual scrapes and bruises experienced by all children every day.  However, the grim picture should not obscure the fact that children were looked after and cared for, not only by their mothers but by godparents, family, servants, apprentices and neighbours.  Everyone mourned and buried those who died but those who survived were loved, played with, trained and rewarded. 

Chaucer’s Wife of Bath:

Perhaps the most famous medieval housewife is Chaucer’s Wife of Bath:

This is Chaucer’s description of the formidable Wife of Bath in his Prologue to the Canterbury Tales.  In the prologue to her own tale, she tells us she is now eagerly awaiting husband number six.  Although she was a virgin when first she wed, she doesn’t see chastity as a virtue – what good is a man if he only uses his sely instrument to urinate when he should use it for engendrure?  Why else would God have made men and women as He did?  Her next husband will be sette a-werke, she says, as the others were before him so that many a night they songen ‘weilawey!’

Cleanliness

It is a common fallacy that medieval people were a dirty, smelly lot and, no doubt in the days before toilet soap and deodorants, sometimes that was the case.  But, as we have already heard, a husband expected to come home and have his feet bathed by his wife and clean socks afterwards.  Considering the difficulty in preparing sufficient hot water for a bath, lugging it to and fro and warming the room so the bather should not catch his death, bathing did not happen too often but was popular, especially in summer (King John took a bath once a fortnight even in winter as we know from his accounts: he usually paid his bathman 5d a day but 13d on bathnights).  John Russell gives instructions for preparing an upper class husband’s bath:

John Russell doesn’t suggest that a wife should share her husband’s bath but this was an enjoyable, popular and economic alternative in the great wooden tubs of the time.  For the poorest folk, a quick dip in the river in warm weather was probably the best they could do.  It was the later Tudors who decided bathing was all but suicidal, it was so dangerous to health, although Queen Elizabeth I did have a bath once a month ‘whether she needed it or not’.  Babies, since ‘diaper napkins’ were solely for use at table, were bathed quite frequently, needing far less water anyway.  But Medieval people were very particular about cleanliness at table too and it was good manners to wash your hands publicly both before, after and, if necessary, during the meal – after all, there were no forks.

Suggested reading for ‘Medieval Housewives’ and associated subjects.

[Chaucer]:  Alexander, Michael, ed., The Canterbury Tales: Illustrated Prologue, Scala Books 1996.Goldberg, PJP; Women in England 1275-1525, Manchester, 1995.
Hanawalt, Barbara A, Growing Up in Medieval London, Oxford UP, 1995.
Hopkins, Andrea; Most Wise and Valiant Ladies, Collins & Brown, 1997.
Jewell, Helen; Women in Medieval England, Manchester, 1996.
Labarge, Margaret Wade; Women in Medieval Life, Hamish Hamilton, 1986.
Langwith, Elene]: will no. 22 in TNA PROB 9/7, Register of the Prerogative Court of Canterbury (the Logge Register), to be published by the Richard III Society in 2006.
Leyser, Henrietta; Medieval Women, Phoenix, 1995.
Martin, Priscilla; Chaucer’s Women, Macmillan, 1996.
Mate, Mavis E; Women in Medieval English Society, Cambridge, 1999.
Power, Eileen; Medieval Women, Canto, 1997.
Power, Eileen; The Goodman of Paris, Folio Society, 1992.
Virgoe, Roger; Illustrated Letters of the Paston Family, Macmillan, 1989.