“Supper ibidem. List of dishes.”
In contemplating the luxury of these banquets, one must try to realise the incongruities of the functions of that time. Our British mind is apt, when we read of such events, to conjure up a vision of spotless damask, glittering plate, and shining glass; beautiful flowers, set in harmonious surroundings, crowned by the advent of a well-cooked dinner; of guests with dainty manners and charming personalities.
A rough, hand-woven cloth in the early sixteenth century was certainly forthcoming, and was laid on the wooden board, while the first thing that was placed upon it was the salt-cellar—this in accordance with a prevailing superstition. Plate abounded on the Royal tables, and pewter on those of the nobility. Knives and spoons were used. The guests arrived in gorgeous array. The greatest delicacies appeared in wild extravagance. The walls were sometimes hung with tapestry; but instead of velvet pile carpets the shoes of these gentlefolk rested on rushes, often not too clean. And, alas! there were no forks.
Although several forks were given to Queen Elizabeth, it is an accepted fact that she ate with her fingers. The introduction of these pronged articles was looked on as a great innovation, and one clergyman preached against them as “an insult to Providence not to touch one’s meat with one’s fingers.” Forks were brought from Italy, and the prejudice seems to have arisen from the word “furcifer” having been applied to slaves who bore a fork, or cross of torture.
Writers of the day, Ben Jonson included, held up these new-fangled implements to ridicule, and they did not come into general use for well-nigh a hundred years. As fingers were so much in favour the Ewerer attended to the provision of water and towels before and after each meal. The office came into prominence in the reign of Edward IV., and so important had it become in that of Elizabeth that she employed a sergeant, three yeomen, two grooms, two pages, and three clerks in her Ewrie. The custom was kept up to the middle of the seventeenth century.
In his curious Essays On Behaviour at Meals, Erasmus reminds his readers that it is “very rude to blow your nose on the table-cloth,” or “to wipe your fingers on your neighbour’s coat.” And then he goes on to remark:
“Never praise the results of your cook’s labours or press your guests to eat whether they like or not. Never criticise your host’s dinner unfavourably, even if it be badly cooked. Pass all these things over in silence. Do not give dogs your bones to crack under the table, or feed the cat, or encourage animals to jump on the table. This may offend your host, or lead to the soiling of his carpet,” and, above all, “do not lick your plate; it is an act that ill becomes a cat, let alone a gentleman!”
Some writers aver that until Elizabeth’s reign stews and hashes were the chief dishes. She it was who adopted the use of large joints, and the advent of the fork followed. Stews were eaten with spoons, but lumps of meat required other handling. Still, this theory scarcely stands against the records of feasts in earlier days, when the Saxons and Normans each had his knife and hacked from the roast itself.
Hyde Park, the cradle of manners, shared the favour of Henry in conjunction with similar pleasure-lands. Around London lay the parks of Richmond, Windsor, Hanworth, Hampton Court (after the death of Wolsey), and, farther afield, Oatlands, besides other Royal demesnes, while Greenwich had been a Royal Palace from the time of Edward I.—and Greenwich, his birthplace, he loved best of all.