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The Stinky Middle Ages

Now do we really care how many times Mila Kunis bathes her children? Or for that matter, how many times Ashton Kutcher showers or the hygiene habits of any modern celebrity? (For our international friends, this has been a big topic of recent discussion on social media in our country.) I’m most concerned about the bathing habits of other people when I’m in Rome in mid-July on a hot and sticky day inside the Sistine Chapel packed with five thousand other people looking up at the ceiling.

Tourists craning their necks to admire the Sistine Chapel. Photo by anonymous (c. 2013). Daily Mail 21 May 2013. www.dailymail.co.uk
Tourists craning their necks to admire the Sistine Chapel. Photo by anonymous (c. 2013). Daily Mail 21 May 2013. www.dailymail.co.uk

I wrote a blog some time ago addressing medieval sleep habits (click here to read the blog, Medieval Sleep Number©️ Bed). The important question in that blog was “Why were beds so short back then?” It’s not what you might think but you’re probably close. So, today I believe we will discuss something most of us do after getting out of bed in the morning . . . namely, bathing habits. After the folks in the Middle Ages crawled out of their short beds, what was their daily hygiene process?

The answer as to whether people from the Middle Ages were, let’s say, aromatic is not clear cut. There are many opinions about bathing frequencies and types of bathing habits. Opinions are formed by studying medieval illustrations, written accounts, and pure conjecture. Some people believe bathing was done on a regular basis while others point to evidence supporting intermittent bathing. I have not run across anyone’s opinion that bathing was totally neglected. Like many historical questions, there is not one simple answer.

Husband and wife bathing. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).
Husband and wife bathing. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).


Did You Know?

Did you know that the French community of Illiers l’Évêque recently held a ceremony commemorating the crew of Stanley Booker’s Halifax bomber that went down near the town? Click here to watch the video. The ceremony also honored the seven airmen buried at Saint-André-de-l’Eure including Stan’s pilot, Sandy Murray, and W/O Taffy Williams. Stan and the other surviving downed airmen were taken in by some of the citizens of Illiers l’Évêque before making their way to Paris to join an evasion network. Unfortunately, Stan and others were betrayed and turned over to the Gestapo. His story is the subject of my blog, The Last Train Out of Paris (click here to read the blog)

A young RAF Flight Lieutenant Stanley Booker at the time he was flying during the Berlin airlift. Photo by anonymous (c. 1947). Stanley Booker private collection. Courtesy of Pat Vinycomb.
A young RAF Flight Lieutenant Stanley Booker at the time he was flying during the Berlin airlift. Photo by anonymous (c. 1947). Stanley Booker private collection. Courtesy of Pat Vinycomb.

Stan’s daughter, Pat, pulled together the ceremony and events with the help of Jean-Pierre Curato, a relative of one of the families that assisted Stan. It became an international event with representatives from the British, Canadian, and American embassies in attendance. The French military, local mayors, and community leaders also attended. Unfortunately, Pat and Stan were unable to make it, but they were well represented by several relatives along with retired air Commodore Barry Dickens and his wife.

Jean-Pierre Curato opening his present from Stanley Booker. It is a photo of a RAF Halifax bomber. Photo by anonymous (c. October 2021). Courtesy of Pat Vinycomb.
Jean-Pierre Curato opening his present from Stanley Booker. It is a photo of a RAF Halifax bomber. Photo by anonymous (c. October 2021). Courtesy of Pat Vinycomb.

Thank you to Pat for sharing the story of this event as well as the numerous images, videos, and other media coverage of the memorial ceremony.

I’d like to share it all with you, but I’ve chosen the following: Reception  Click here to watch the reception.

Royal Air Force Article  Click here to read the article.

Ceremony  Click here to watch the ceremony part 1. Click here to watch the ceremony part 2.

Stanley Booker Interview  Click here to watch the interview.


Middle Ages

The European Middle Ages are defined by three periods: Early (300−1000), High (1000−1300), and Late (1300−1500). (The term “Middle Ages” did not appear until the 15th-century.) The Early Middle Ages was previously referred to as the “Dark Ages” because few if any written records of that time have been discovered. Trust me, it was not “dark”⏤the sun came up every day. It is important to remember that there is a transitional period between the end of one historical era and the beginning of a new one. For example, historians commonly point to 500 A.D. as the end of the Roman Empire. In reality, the “end” was a decline over several centuries. So, even though the beginning of the Italian Renaissance supposedly signaled the end of the Late Middle Ages, there was no singular or fundamental break from the past. In other words, no one flipped a switch.

Nobles out for a ride. Notice the peasants swimming and bathing in the background. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown). De Berry Book of Hours.
Nobles out for a ride. Notice the peasants swimming and bathing in the background. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown). De Berry Book of Hours.

During the Early Middle Ages, medieval society was split into four parts: nobles, non-nobles, clergy, and non-Christians. During the High and Late Middle Ages, the working class and middle class were added to the non-noble classification. One of the key aspects impacting bathing and hygiene habits was the economic stratification of each class.

Man attended by wife or attendant (or someone) while bathing. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).
Man attended by wife or attendant (or someone) while bathing. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).

Bathhouses

Before the Middle Ages, the Roman Empire ruled much of the continent. The Romans believed in bathing regularly and built public bathhouses throughout their conquered territories. Many of the baths have survived two thousand or more years and one of the most famous (and still functional) is in Bath, England. The ruins of Roman baths can be seen on the Left Bank of Paris as part of the Musée national du Moyen Âge, or the Cluny Museum (click here to read the blog, Paris History Museums). While soap was invented by the Babylonians around 2800 BC, it became widely popular during the last five hundred years of the Roman Empire.

A Roman bath. Illustration by anonymous (c. 1903). Leonard A. Lauder collection of Raphael Tuck & Sons postcards. PD-Author’s life plus 70 years or fewer. Wikimedia Commons.
A Roman bath. Illustration by anonymous (c. 1903). Leonard A. Lauder collection of Raphael Tuck & Sons postcards. PD-Author’s life plus 70 years or fewer. Wikimedia Commons.

After the collapse of the Roman Empire, public bathing declined but the knights of the crusades revived the popularity of bathing and many of the surviving Roman public baths were used as well as newly constructed bathhouses. In Paris, public bathing was such a big business that the keepers of the bathhouses formed a guild to establish rules and regulations to ensure the longevity of their businesses. (By 1292, there were more than thirty public bath facilities in Paris and eighteen in London.) Some of the Paris guild’s rules were as follows:

  • No man or woman of the aforesaid trade may maintain in their houses or baths either prostitutes of the day or night, or lepers, or vagabonds, or other infamous people of the night.
  • No man or woman may heat their baths on Sunday.
  • Be it known that no man or woman may cry or have cried their baths until it is day, because of the danger which can threaten those who rise at the cry to go to the baths. (Huh?)

Now, in London, the public bathhouses were a place where not only could one get a regular bath but enjoy other earthly delights (if you get my drift). Although against the law, sex in the bathhouses was overlooked by the proprietors. The public facilities included steam baths, wooden tubs, and the opportunity to grab a bite to eat.

Scene of a public bath house. There’s that voyeur king again observing the debauchery going on. It’s good to be king but in this case, it’s better to be in the tub. Illustration by Master of Anthony of Burgundy (c. 1420). PD-Author’s life plus 70 years or fewer. Wikimedia Commons.
Scene of a public bath house. There’s that voyeur king again observing the debauchery going on. It’s good to be king but in this case, it’s better to be in the tub. Illustration by Master of Anthony of Burgundy (c. 1420). PD-Author’s life plus 70 years or fewer. Wikimedia Commons.
Knight bathing after a fight. Illustration by anonymous (c. 1300). Manesse Codex.
Knight bathing after a fight. Illustration by anonymous (c. 1300). Manesse Codex.

The early Christian church disapproved of communal bathing. Since it involved nudity, sexual freedoms had to be suppressed. (Bath water was heated and it was believed to inflame lust for the opposite sex.) Most of the monks and clergy saw washing as a sign of vanity and sexual corruption. Some monks only bathed twice a year (i.e., Christmas and Easter). That is, except for the monks of Westminster Abby who hired their personal bath attendant. In other words, the filthier you were, the humbler and more pious you could claim to be.

Double-dippers. Illustration by anonymous (c. 14th century).
Double-dippers. Illustration by anonymous (c. 14th century).

The number of European bathhouses began to decline in the 16th century. The Elizabethan era put a damper on bathing by declaring that cleaning oneself weakened the body while washing the skin left it more susceptible to infection. Pandemics represented another nail in the bathhouse coffin. Public bathing would not make a resurgence until the 18th century when spas became popular.

Public baths and private bedroom. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).
Public baths and private bedroom. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).
Wealthy citizen taking a bath while attended by a servant. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).
Wealthy citizen taking a bath while attended by a servant. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).

Social Status

If you were wealthy, not only could you afford a private bathtub, but you could probably pay other people to fill it, wash you, and dry you off (and maybe other stuff). However, most medieval citizens were not wealthy. Almost ninety percent were peasants and most of these people worked as laborers in the fields. They tended to wash once a day by wiping themselves down. A ewer (i.e., pitcher or jug) was filled with water, heated, and then poured into a large basin. No water or heat? No problem. It was likely a short walk to a river, stream, or other local water source. Whether you were wealthy or a peasant, bathing was quite a chore. Common sense says the peasants probably didn’t bathe as often as the rich folks.

A wealthy man stepping out of his private bath. He has three attendants and the furnishings indicate his higher social status. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).
A wealthy man stepping out of his private bath. He has three attendants and the furnishings indicate his higher social status. Illustration by anonymous (date unknown).

Yes, they used soap. But the wealthy also scented their bath water by throwing in herbs such as sage, rosemary, and thyme. (Simon and Garfunkel must have been fans of medieval bathing: click here to listen.) Deodorants were made from bay leaves, hyssop, or sage. Unfortunately, our medieval ancestors could not run down to the nearest Kroger, Carrefour, or Tesco to buy toilet paper. Their options were leaves, moss, a rag, or hay. If they were well-off, they could afford to wipe their bums with lamb wool. If you were king or queen, you employed the Royal Toilet Attendant. For the king, it was the “Groom of the Stool” or “Master of the Chamber” while the queen had her “Chief Gentlewoman.” As I’ve always said, “It is good to be king.” By the way, never jump into the moat that surrounds your castle. The plumbing system was designed to deposit all human waste into the waters of the moat. Refer to my blog, Thomas Crapper: Remembered from the Bowels of History (click here to read).

James Hamilton, 2nd Duke of Abercorn (1838−1913), the last Groom of the Stool in British history. Photo by anonymous (date unknown). Lafayette Photography Studio, London. PD-CC BY-SA 4.0.
James Hamilton, 2nd Duke of Abercorn (1838−1913), the last Groom of the Stool in British history. Photo by anonymous (date unknown). Lafayette Photography Studio, London. PD-CC BY-SA 4.0.
The rear view of the medieval garderobe toilets at Portchester Castle, UK, where the poop exited the castle into the moat. Photo by Colin Babb (date unknown).
The rear view of the medieval garderobe toilets at Portchester Castle, UK, where the poop exited the castle into the moat. Photo by Colin Babb (date unknown).
Every modern castle must have one of these. Photo by anonymous (date unknown).
Every modern castle must have one of these. Photo by anonymous (date unknown).

Bathing Habits of Celebrities

Reportedly, Queen Elizabeth I only bathed once a year. Queen Isabella of Castile beats that record. Reportedly, she only bathed twice during her lifetime: when she was born and the day she married Ferdinand of Aragon. On the other hand, Isabella’s daughter, Juana, was fanatical about bathing herself. Her husband thought she was killing herself by bathing and washing her hair so often. Although he was a bad king, King John wasn’t a dirty king. He travelled with the royal bathtub and his bath attendant. (King John may be remembered for having lost the English crown jewels but he never lost his bathtub.) After Thomas Becket was murdered, the monks found fleas and lice all over his body and clothes. It seems the archbishop of Canterbury never took a bath or washed. Becket was canonized and I heard somewhere that Kohler Co. adopted him as their patron saint. (Kohler makes bathtubs). While Napoléon I was not part of the Middle Ages, he ordered Josephine to stop bathing a week before he returned home from his military campaigns. (Hey, I don’t make this stuff up.)

Eleanor of Castile’s personal bathing tub. Tub is in excellent condition, and it should be. She didn’t often take a bath. Photo by anonymous (date unknown).
Eleanor of Castile’s personal bathing tub. Tub is in excellent condition, and it should be. She didn’t often take a bath. Photo by anonymous (date unknown).
Thomas Becket’s bloodied tunic. I couldn’t see any lice. Photo by anonymous (c. 2018). Daily Mail 4 November 2018. www.dailymail.co.uk
Thomas Becket’s bloodied tunic. I couldn’t see any lice. Photo by anonymous (c. 2018). Daily Mail 4 November 2018. www.dailymail.co.uk

My Conclusion

So, the question raised is whether the people of the Middle Ages took baths and how often did they wash? Some say the medieval people rarely bathed while others say most of them didn’t want to walk around stinking up the place. Who are we supposed to believe? Well, I decided to take the middle road. I have concluded that people bathed more often than the skeptics have postulated but not as much as those who believe it was a common occurrence. After “studying” many of the available illustrations, I am convinced washing up in the public bathhouses was quite enjoyable.

I found only one conclusion that every pundit and author agree upon: the medieval public bathhouses were an acceptable place to have sex.

Medieval steam rooms. Notice the royal voyeurs next door? Illustration by Guillaume Vrelant (c. 15th century). Frontispiece of Book IX by Valère Maxime. Bibliothèque nationale de France.
Medieval steam rooms. Notice the royal voyeurs next door? Illustration by Guillaume Vrelant (c. 15th century). Frontispiece of Book IX by Valère Maxime. Bibliothèque nationale de France.

★ Learn More About the Stinky Middle Ages 

Handley, Sasha. Sleep in Early Modern England. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016.

Newman, Paul B. Daily Life in the Middle Ages. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland and Co., 2001.

Roux, Simone. Translated by Jo Ann McNamara. Paris in the Middle Ages.

Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009. Originally published as Paris au Moyen Âge by Hachette Littératures.

Singman, Jeffrey L. The Middle Ages: Everyday Life in Medieval Europe. New York: Sterling, 2013.

Smith, Virginia. Clean: A History of Personal Hygiene and Purity. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.

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What’s New With Sandy and Stew?

Good news!

We have received the proof book from our printer. Final corrections have been made and Roy has sent the final file to Pollock Printing in Nashville.  According to Alex Pollock, there has been a disruption in the supply of paper (so what else is new?). We use very good quality paper stock for our books, and I suspect there may be a delay in obtaining what we need. Unfortunately, it’s out of our control but we have our fingers crossed that there is enough time between now and the end of the year to get this book printed and available for purchase. Stay tuned.

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I’d also like to thank Pat P. for introducing us to the story of Salon Kitty. He’s writing a novel using the story of this Berlin brothel. I did some preliminary research and I think there may be some fiction intermingled with fact. But it is such an interesting tale that I’ve decided to use the topic as our final blog in 2021.

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2 thoughts on “The Stinky Middle Ages

  1. Very entertaining tale of soap and water and related non-hygienic sports. Great read. Thanks, Stew.

    1. Thanks Greg! Good to hear from you. STEW

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