[Illustration: The “Skittles” Inn, Letchworth, Herts]
“A seemly man our Hosté was withal. For to have been a marshall in a hall. A largé man he was with eyen stepe, A fairer burgess is there none in Chepe; Bold of his speech and wise, and well-y-taught And of manhood him lackedé right naught. Like thereto he was right a merry man.”
A model to all innkeepers was Our Hosté of the _Tabard_; a born leader of men, quick to understand each man’s individualities, and full of kindly sympathy for all. Ready of wit, he was ever careful to remove the sting before it could rankle. A man of education, he could adapt himself to his company and be skilful in devices for their comfort and recreation. Not least of his many qualifications as a landlord was his presence of mind in averting disputes by a judicious change of the subject.
We no longer send innkeepers to Parliament, nor do members of Parliament, as a rule, undertake the personal superintendence of hotels, as they often did in the fourteenth century. But the type of innkeeper portrayed as Harry Bailey of the _Tabard_, in Southwark, is by no means extinct. You may find him if you search well under many an old gable or Queen Anne cornice--sometimes even in a smart new red-brick hotel. Nor is he lacking on the great ancient trade routes that run right through Europe--not even in those establishments recommended by Baedeker or Bradshaw--though the new races of purse-proud tourists and Cook’s excursionists are fast expelling him in favour of the servile and mercenary business manager. In a humbler way, the village and wayside inns contain good men and true who follow in the footsteps of Harry Bailey. Such inns, often kept by retired tradesmen, blacksmiths or farmers, are a boon and a blessing to the neighbourhood. They are not only a centre of recreation for the village labourer; they tend also to educate and uplift him, ridiculous as the assertion may seem to those who have never put on an old coat and tramped through the by-ways into Arcady.
Diverse and sundry are the concerns in which the village innkeeper is called upon to give advice. He is the arbitrator in disputes, he solves weighty problems of rural etiquette. He knows the inner secrets of every home and can weigh the respective merits of his clientele to a nicety. To him it is that each one comes for help in trouble, social or financial, and his charity is given irrespective of politics or creed, given considerately as becomes a man of affairs, and without stint. The parish clergy know him as a valuable ally, and it is not unusual to find him acting as churchwarden. Nay, only the other day we saw a procession headed by the worthy village publican carrying the cross, and a manful and decorous crossbearer he proved himself.