In the 12th and 13th centuries table-cloths were called, in France, doubliers, doubtless because they were folded in two. This practice was eventually given up; and instead of a doubled cloth, the first was covered by a smaller one, and removed at the last course. Henry III. required this dessert cloth to be artistically plaited, so as to present pleasing designs.[XXXII_76]
Napkins were much used in Greece and Italy. In the time of Augustus, and many years after, each guest brought his own, as we bring our pocket-handkerchiefs. Catullus complains of a certain Asinius, who had stolen his. Martial brings a similar accusation against a parasite named Hermogenes.[XXXII_77]
Napkins were sometimes made of asbestos, and they were thrown into a brazier to clean them.[XXXII_78] But these rarities were seldom possessed by any but princes, for asbestos was as expensive as jewels.[XXXII_79]
The constitution of St. Ansegisius for the monastery of Fontenelle mentions plush napkins to wipe the hands, but they were only used before and after the repast. The town of Rheims was renowned in the middle ages for the manufacture of table linen. When Charles VII. made his entrance there they presented him with napkins, “very rich and curious by reason of the beautiful flowered work.”
XXXIII.
THE SERVANTS.
All the opulent families had a great number of servants, or slaves, whose low extraction,[XXXIII_1] the chances of war,[XXXIII_2] or the parental will,[XXXIII_3] subjected to the caprices of the rich as a mere thing possessed, a right, a property (res).
They were known, like the slaves of the Jews[XXXIII_4] in former times, by their ears, which were pierced with an awl;[XXXIII_5] an ineffaceable stigma, which always reminded the freed-man of his former humiliation. The slave was also often marked with a hot iron on the back, the hands, the cheeks, or the forehead; and the characters thus imprinted served the master as an evidence against his fugitive servant in whatsoever place he might find him.[XXXIII_6] It is, perhaps, to similar marks that the prophet Zechariah makes allusion, when he says: “What are these wounds in thine hands?”[XXXIII_7] Plautus, whose comic vein respects neither the power of the Gods nor the sanctity of misfortune, calls these unfortunate creatures “lettered slaves” (servos literatos).[XXXIII_8]
A house of any note could not do without a crowd of servants, to whom the steward (dispensator) apportioned the labour, the food, and the chastisements.[XXXIII_9]
In a lodge near the vestibule was the porter (ostiarius),[XXXIII_10] whose watchful eye observed every one who went in or out by day or night. They made sure of his vigilance by chaining him to his place.[XXXIII_11]
The hall (atrium) was guarded by an intelligent and confidential servant, whose functions raised him above the other slaves.[XXXIII_12] The atriensis—such was his designation—had the care of the arms, trophies, precious furniture, and books, which adorned this apartment. He had also to take extreme care of the paintings and wax figures there preserved from motives of vanity or by a sentiment of respect; and it was he who carried those images of venerated ancestors before the funeral procession of the head of the family when, in his turn, death had numbered him with his progenitors.[XXXIII_13]