No. 112. A Royal Feast.
There was much formality and ceremony observed in filling and presenting the cup, and it required long instruction to make the young cup-bearer perfect in his duties. In our cut [No. 111], it will be observed that the carver holds the meat with his fingers while he cuts it. This is in exact accordance with the rules given in the ancient “Boke of Kervyng,” where this officer is told, “Set never on fyshe, flesche, beest, ne fowle, more than two fyngers and a thombe.” It will be observed also that in none of these pictures have the guests any plates; they seem to have eaten with their hands, and thrown the refuse on the table. We know also that they often threw the fragments on the floor, where they were eaten up by cats and dogs, which were admitted into the hall without restriction of number. In the “Boke of Curtasye,” already mentioned, it is blamed as a mark of bad breeding to play with the cats and dogs while seated at table— Whereso thou sitt at mete in borde (at table),
Avoide the cat at on bare worde,
For yf thou stroke cat other dogge,
Thou art lyke an ape teyghed with a clogge.
Some of these directions for behaviour are very droll, and show no great refinement of manners. A guest at table is recommended to keep his nails clean, for fear his fellow next him should be disgusted— Loke thy naylys ben clene in blythe,
Lest thy felaghe lothe therwyth.
He is cautioned against spitting on the table— If thou spit on the borde or elles opone,
Thou shalle be holden an uncurtayse mon.
When he blows his nose with his hand (handkerchiefs were not, it appears, in use), he is told to wipe his hand on his skirt or on his tippet— Yf thy nose thou clense, as may befalle,
Loke thy honde thou clense withalle,
Prively with skyrt do hit away,
Or ellis thurgh thi tepet that is so gay.
He is not to pick his teeth with his knife, or with a straw or stick, nor to clean them with the table-cloth; and, if he sits by a gentleman, he is to take care he does not put his knee under the other’s thigh!
The cleanliness of the white table-cloth seems to have been a matter of pride; and to judge by the illuminations great care seems to have been taken to place it neatly and smoothly on the table, and to arrange tastefully the part which hung down at the sides. Generally speaking, the service on the table in these illuminations appears to be very simple, consisting of the cups, stands for the dishes of meat (messes, as they were called) brought by the cook, the knives, sometimes spoons for soup and liquids, and bread. Ostentatious ornament is not often introduced, and it was perhaps only used at the tables of princes and of the more powerful nobles. Of these ornaments, one of the most remarkable was the nef, or ship—a vessel, generally of silver, which contained the salt-cellar, towel, &c., of the prince, or great lord, on whose table it was brought with great ceremony. It was in the form of a ship, raised on a stand, and on one end it had some figure, such as a serpent, or castle, perhaps an emblem or badge chosen by its possessor. Our cut [No. 113], taken from a manuscript in the French National Library, represents the nef placed on the table. The badge or emblem at the end appears to be a bird.
| No. 113. The Nef. | No. 114. Gluttony. |
Our forefathers seem to have remained a tolerably long time at table, the pleasures of which were by no means despised. Indeed, to judge by the sermons and satires of the middle ages, gluttony seems to have been a very prevalent vice among the clergy as well as the laity; and however miserably the lower classes lived, the tables of the rich were loaded with every delicacy that could be procured. The monks were proverbially bons vivants; and their failings in this respect are not unfrequently satirised in the illuminated ornaments of the mediæval manuscripts. We have an example in our cut [No. 114], taken from a manuscript of the fourteenth century in the Arundel Collection in the British Museum ([No. 91]); a monk is regaling himself on the sly, apparently upon dainty tarts or patties, while the dish is held up by a little cloven-footed imp who seems to enjoy the spirit of the thing, quite as much as the other enjoys the substance. Our next cut ([No. 115]) is taken from another manuscript in the British Museum of the same date (MS. Sloane, No. 2435), and forms an appropriate companion to the other. The monk here holds the office of cellarer, and is taking advantage of it to console himself on the sly.
No. 115. Monastic Devotions.
When the last course of the dinner had been served, the ewer and his companion again carried round the water and towel, and each guest washed. The tables were then cleared and the cloths withdrawn, but the drinking continued. The minstrels were now introduced. To judge by the illuminations, the most common musical attendant on such occasions was a harper, who repeated romances and told stories, accompanying them with his instrument. In one of our cuts of a dinner party ([No. 112]), given in a former page, we see the harper, apparently a blind man, led by his dog, introduced into the hall while the guests are still occupied with their repast. We frequently find a harper thus introduced, who is sometimes represented as sitting upon the floor, as in the accompanying illustration ([No. 116]) from the MS. Reg. 2 B. vii. fol. 71, vo. Another similar representation occurs at folio 203, vo of the same MS.
No. 116. The Harper in the Hall.