As you look forward to a giant nosh on 25th December, you will recollect that at least 2 popular items were unavailable in the Middle Ages. Potatoes and turkeys were late-comers to these islands and the birds have been regretting their arrival ever since. What DID they eat in the great mansions and castles?
On Christmas Day 1347 at Hunstanton in Norfolk, Sir Hamon le Strange and his household consumed bread, 2 gallons of wine (12d), 1 big pig for the larder (4s), 1 small pig (6d), a swan which was a gift from Lord Camoys, 2 hens given as rent and 8 rabbits of which 2 were gifts. If this does not seem much - read on.
The bread for the lord in any important dwelling would probably have been made with white flour, so precious that it was sometimes stored in a locked chest and the lower orders consumed brown rye bread. All roasted poultry and animals demanded specific ways of carving: a mallard was "unbraced"; a heron "dismembered"; a coney "unlaced" and a hen "spoiled." This delicate work was done by rushlight. Other ingredients might be venison, fawn, kid, bustard, stork, crane, peacock, sparrow, baked quinces, damsons in wine, and a range of vegetables used in sauces rather than served independently. The wine could be Rhenish, Gascon or Spanish and Sir Hamon seems almost teetotal when we recall that Chaucer was allowed a gallon every normal day. No wonder The Canterbury Tales rip along and were never finished!
Entertainment
William of Malmesbury relates how, on a Christmas night, 12 carollers (holding hands in a circle and skipping around the leader who sang) danced around a church and persuaded the priest's daughter to join them. He uttered a curse so that their hands became inseparably joined and, when the son ran out to save his sister, her arm broke off like a rotten stick. Better keep to Scrabble, say I.
Yet there would have been music, dancing and performances of "disguising games" - in these plays, the emphasis was on roles exemplified by masks rather than words and scripts. Heroes were pitted against evils such as legendary giants. Edward III was so enthusiastic about these that, for Christmas 1338, he ordered 86 plain masks, 14 with long beards, 15 baboons' heads of linen, 12 ells of canvas to make a forest, a wooden pillory and a cucking [sic] stool. In 1347 he required similar but with some masks as women, angels, dragons' heads, pheasant heads and wings, swan's heads plus starry tunics, whilst, in 1348, he took part in such a mumming himself, dressed as a giant bird. We are going to try all this ourselves this year instead of charades - I have bagsied the role of huge avian.
Role reversal etc
It is likely that this period, from Christmas to Epiphany, seemed particularly dreary, rainy and frost-bound and so was transformed into a long holiday. Services required of villeins were suspended and manorial servants received their "perquisites", bonuses of food, clothing, drink and firewood, their traditional seasonal due. On Christmas Eve the Yule log, a massive section of tree trunk, was brought in and kept burning for 12 days. If the tenants were invited, they ate food mostly provided by themselves on their own dishes. (Does this explain how Sir Hamon managed to be relatively miserly?) A bean was hidden in a CAKE or loaf and the finder became king of the feast.
If all this makes our dash to the supermarket seem a little soulless, remember that, in 1251, Matthew Paris complained that Henry III not only economised on Christmas expenses but demanded costly gifts from his subjects, staying in more lowly households which had to honour him with splendid entertainments and gold or silver cups or jewelled necklaces. I think I'll settle for the family crackers and quiz after all.
My personal memory of Christmas past
After midday dinner all my relatives would arrive by taxi as no-one had cars and we settled down to gambling at unsophisticated card games and a well-worn horse-betting set-up called Backeroo. Tea consisted of cold chicken sandwiches and trifle: even during post-WWII rationing, my mother managed these (although obtaining lard was problematic). What I remember, apart from losing my pennies - this was not a child-centred epoch - is the horrid, sticky nature of the cards which developed little black greasy circles through over-use because of the paper shortage. Even now I marvel that you can buy lovely glossy playing cards so cheaply and actually enjoy handling them. (When she was plucking and dressing the fowl, my mother gave the infant me a claw to play with and I would pull the tendons to make it clench and relax. I have grown up to be quite unsqueamish and averse to gambling.)
You can read about entertainment provided by Roland le Pettour in the household of Henry II or search using the appropriate button on this blog for information on several great houses and castles in Monmouthshire and beyond. 2018 could be the time to follow me on Twitter (New Year resolution?) @BarbaraDaniels6. There is an intimidating list of books I have consulted on the right of each article but here I am especially indebted to Ian Mortimer and Joseph and Frances Gies.
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