One dialogue, or Colloquye of Erasmus (entituled Diuersoria): Translated oute of Latten into Englyshe: And Imprinted, to the ende that the Judgement of the Learned maye be hadde before the Translator procede in the reste

In Short

This sixteenth-century dialogue serves as a comparative guide to the inns of Europe. Through a conversation between two travelers, Bertulphe and William, the reader is transported from the graceful, female-led hospitality of French taverns to the communal, chaotic, and often stubborn "stoves" of German lands. By juxtaposing these two distinct styles of lodging, the work explores themes of social hierarchy, hygiene, and cultural identity. It remains a fascinating historical snapshot, preserving the voices, prejudices, and domestic realities of travelers navigating the continent centuries ago.

The Story

The dialogue opens with Bertulphe and William, two travelers who have recently returned from journeys, comparing their experiences at different types of European inns. William speaks first, extolling the virtues of his stay in France, specifically in the city of Lyons. He describes the French inns as places of warmth and artful charm, where the host’s wife and daughter provide entertainment, conversation, and attentive service. To William, these women act as "sweet Mermaides" who make the traveler feel as though they have never left home, offering clean linens and a level of personal care that borders on kinship.

Bertulphe, unimpressed by what he views as potentially soft or overly ornate French customs, contrasts this with his own experiences in the German lands. He characterizes the German inn not as a place of comfort, but as a test of endurance. There, the traveler is greeted with cold indifference. Upon arrival, the guest must often coax a response from an innkeeper who peeks out from a window like a "snaile" from a shell. Once admitted to the stoue—a communal room heated by a furnace—the traveler finds no privacy. Instead, they are thrust into a crowded, stifling atmosphere where laborers, merchants, and noblemen sit together, stripping off their wet boots and clothing by the fire, regardless of the presence of strangers.

The narrative arc of the conversation highlights the rigidity of the German innkeeper’s social order. Bertulphe describes a system where the guest has no say in their comfort. Meals are served only when the room is full, ensuring a "community of life" that ignores class distinctions, for better or worse. He details the long, agonizing wait for food, the poor quality of the wine, and the haughty dismissiveness of the staff, who threaten to turn away any guest who dares to complain. As the evening progresses, the atmosphere descends into a cacophony of singing and shouting, culminating in an impersonal accounting system where a "grim" innkeeper demands payment with the stroke of a piece of chalk on a wooden trencher.

The story concludes with a final contrast. While Bertulphe remains committed to the austere, "manlike" stability of the German style, William views the lack of basic cleanliness and the potential health hazards—such as the risk of "the spanishe scabbe" or other infections—with alarm. When Bertulphe suggests they discuss the habits of Italy, Spain, and England, William is forced to decline, citing the pressing need to catch his ship. The dialogue ends on this note of unfinished business, leaving the two men to part ways before they can exchange further observations on the varying customs of the world.

How It Unfolds

The debate opens Bertulphe and William begin by discussing why travelers linger in certain cities, setting the stage for a critique of local hospitality. William immediately champions the French style, painting a picture of comfort and friendly engagement.

The French ideal William details the attentive, almost theatrical service provided by the women at his French inn. He emphasizes the ease of his stay, where the hostesses anticipated his needs and treated guests like family.

The German reality Bertulphe pivots to the German inn, describing a grim, detached experience where the traveler is ignored until he proves his worthiness. He depicts the stoue as a stifling, communal furnace that strips away the dignity of the individual.

A clash of manners The conversation turns to the social atmosphere, with Bertulphe describing a chaotic, noisy environment where class lines disappear. He highlights the innkeeper’s stubborn refusal to alter his routine, even when guests are physically uncomfortable.

The ritual of payment Bertulphe concludes his account with the stark, chalk-based tallying of the bill. The dialogue ends with William expressing concern over the health risks of such communal living, just before he must leave to catch his transport.

The People

Bertulphe acts as the sturdy, somewhat cynical advocate for the German style of living. He values consistency and "constancy" above the perceived daintiness of the French, viewing the lack of service as an honest, straightforward approach to life. He is observant, particularly of the hierarchies—or lack thereof—within the communal room, and he takes a grim pride in having survived such an intense, egalitarian environment.

William serves as the foil, representing the perspective of the traveler who appreciates refinement and social grace. He is easily charmed by the "pleasaunt talke" of his hosts in France and finds the German system not only uncomfortable but potentially dangerous. He is articulate and health-conscious, quick to point out the sanitary risks of sharing intimate space with strangers. By the end of the dialogue, he stands as the voice of reason who prefers the "civilized" manners of the South and West over the harsh, collective traditions of the North.

In Its Own Voice

"Some woman or other did alwayes attende vpon the table to cheere the company with pleasaunt talke and prety conceites."

William describes the pleasant and hospitable service he received during his travels in France.

"After you haue stoode cryinge oute at the doore a good while, at the length some one or other pereth out his hed at the stoue window like as a snaile should pepe out of his shell."

Bertulphe recounts the cold, indifferent reception that greets a traveler arriving at a German inn.

"There is as muche mingle mangle of parsons there, as was in the old time at the Towre of Babell."

Bertulphe illustrates the chaotic and crowded nature of the communal living space inside a German inn.

What It's Really About

At its core, this dialogue explores the tension between personal comfort and cultural tradition. It asks whether a traveler should expect the host to adapt to the guest’s needs, or if the guest must conform to the established, often rigid, social practices of the host country. Beneath the descriptions of food and lodging lies a deeper inquiry into "civility." Is it more civilized to offer a guest individual care, or to treat all people—rich and poor, master and servant—as equals in a shared space? The work questions the nature of hospitality itself, weighing the value of modern, refined manners against the stubborn, ancient customs that refuse to change, even when faced with the complaints of those passing through.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy historical travel writing or the nuances of early modern social customs will find this dialogue uniquely engaging. It provides a rare, grounded view of the past that sidesteps grand political narratives to focus on the grit of everyday life: the quality of the bread, the cleanliness of the linens, and the frustrations of language and social etiquette. The language is archaic and requires patience, as the spelling and vocabulary reflect the English of 1566, but the rhythm of the conversation is surprisingly modern and vibrant.

What stays with you is the humanity of the interaction. You feel the weariness of the traveler arriving in a strange land, hoping for a warm bed, only to be met with the bureaucratic stubbornness of a host who cares little for his comfort. It is a reminder that the anxieties of the road—uncertainty about where to sleep, the fear of poor food, and the desire for recognition—are truly timeless. This is not a book for someone seeking a fast-paced plot; it is a book for someone who wants to sit at a table in the sixteenth century and listen to two men argue over the best way to treat a stranger. The frankness of the complaints regarding public health and the "mingle mangle" of the crowded rooms offers a vivid, visceral experience that brings the period to life more effectively than many history texts.