The following details, which we borrow from Monteil’s excellent work,[XXIX_108] give us some idea of the style of living in the mansions of France during the 14th century:—
“Whenever there is a dinner of ceremony, the clerks of the church are requested to bring holy water. The repast is commenced and concluded with fruit. The bread eaten is in loaves of nine ounces only. Every bason of meat is surrounded with sage, lavender, or other aromatic herbs; and on Sunday, or any holiday, negus is given. The sideboard, or buffet, is always in the middle of the room, covered with jugs and large drinking cups of gold and silver.
“The cellars, store-rooms, kneading troughs, dairies, and fruit-stores, are filled and emptied unceasingly—take who will, when he will, and as much as he will. Provisions of every kind are heaped up with a profusion that announces magnificence allied with riches.
“The great number of nobles, knights, huntsmen, falconers, pages, kitchen servants, butlers, bakers, the numerous valets, workmen, gardeners, harbingers, door-keepers, porters, and guards are not equal to the task of consuming so much. From all sides come relations, allies, neighbours, friends, pilgrims, and travellers, all of whom remain or depart at will, being feasted as if it were the morrow of a wedding, or a patronal festivity.
“The kitchen chimney-places are not less than twelve feet in width. One man would not have strength sufficient to use the tongs or the shovels. The andirons do not weigh less than a hundred pounds, the trivets forty pounds; copper saucepans of thirty pounds are common, and so are spits of eleven and twelve pounds. One roast is composed of one, two, or three calves, two, three, or four sheep, besides game, venison, and poultry. The boiling of the saucepans, the exhalations from the grease, render the atmosphere so fat, so thick, that it is only necessary to breathe in it to feed. A person would not dare enter one of those kitchens on the eve of a feast day, for fear, as it were, of breaking his fast.
“In the 16th century persons washed their hands at the commencement of a repast, and a second time when it was concluded. When the master of the house was particular on the point of civility, he had a bason sent round at this second ablution, filled with perfumed water.[XXIX_109]
“When the person seated in the chief place was a guest of distinction, politeness made it indispensable to present him with water to rinse his mouth.[XXIX_110]
“One of the most difficult points of French civility in the 16th century was to drink to a person’s health, or return the compliment in a proper manner.[XXIX_111] A guest at one end of the table held up his glass, and called out: ‘Mr. Such-a-one, to your health!’ He replied: ‘I love it from you!’[XXIX_112] During the whole of the repast, healths were bandied to and fro, in every sense. At the end they touched glasses together at a central point, which created a very singular kind of clash, and, at the same time, the arms underneath formed a sort of fasces of sleeves and cuffs.”[XXIX_113]