With Christmas itself past, it seems safe to take a post or two to address its complaints. Some of these can be found in a satirical piece from the first half of the seventeenth century - THE COMPLAINT OF CHRISTMAS AND THE TEARES OF TWELFETYDE By JOHN TAYLOR.
John Taylor was mostly known for his poetry and was well acquainted with the dramatic side of London through his occupation early in life. He was a Thames ferryman and so would bring Shakespeare and the like to and from the theatres, which by law had to be on the south side of the river; businesses, government and populace were generally housed on the north. This influence might be one of the reasons why the language would have been flowery but accessible and it certainly takes a tongue-in-cheek tone through most of this piece. The Complaint of Christmas was published in 1631, and Taylor had been a waterman on and off for some forty years; he had also been a sailor in one of the many campaigns against the Spanish, a travel writer by subscription and head clerk for the thousands-strong guild of boatmen. He had published All the Workes of John Taylor the Water-Poet, the year before, and ended up with over two hundred different works in print.
He had an obvious interest in food: in 1630, the same year as his collected works, he wrote The Great Eater, of Kent, or part of the admirable teeth and stomacks exploits of Nicholas Wood, of Harrisom in the county of Kent and, in 1638, Taylors Feast containing twenty-seven dishes of meat, without bread, drink, meat, fruit, flesh, fish, sauce, salads, or sweet-meats, only a good stomach, &c. Being full of variety and witty mirth. Despite the playfulness and outright mocking tone seen in those and in The Complaint, the overall message in the latter is seemingly quite serious. Well before elements of Christmas were made illegal during the rule of Parliament and Cromwell, Taylor bemoaned the loss of hospitality, often seen in lack of food, during the holidays.
In a parody of period dedications, the author writes to “the small number of Liberal and Charitable Housekeepers of Christendom” saying they have become “as rare as Phenixes, as scar[c]e as black Swans ...and as much to be held in admiration as Snow in July, Strawberries in December, the Sunshine at Midnight, or a blazing Star at Noon.” Even through such dedications, leading into the text of the piece itself, the writer always speaks in the voice of personified Christmas, saying next: “I assure you my brave worthy Benefactors, that I your ancient and yearly Guest (Christmas,) am heartily sorry to see your quondam [former] number so much shrunk.” While this is the general message of the piece, I would like to set that aside for the rest of today’s entry and talk a little about the food Christmas experiences in his travels through parts of the world that are not England.
Possibly drawing on travel writing experience, Taylor has Christmas recount his journeys before arriving in England on the 25th of December. For instance, he begins by saying that in the coldest time of the year, “I, Christmas, according to my old custom of 1600 years standing, visited the world; and like a quick Post, riding upon the wings of full speed, in ten days space I haunted the most Kingdoms and Climates of the Christian world. I was in the stewing-Stoves of Russia, Muscovia, Pollonia, Sweauia [Sweden?], Hungaria, Austria, Bohemia, Germania, and so many other num-cold teeth-gnashing Regions.” He says if he named all the lands he visited: “I should strike the Readers into such a shivering, and endanger their wits and bounties with a perpetual dead palsy or Apoplexy.” (Our weather is frigid presently, so this does not seem out of the range of possibilities.)
But it is the cuisine, not the climate, of these peoples that is our focus. In those places, Christmas was given as “cheer and entertainment... Pilchards, Anchovies, Pickled-Herring, white and red dried Sprats, Neats tongues, Stock fish, hang'd Beefe, Mutton, raw Bacon, Brand-wine, (alias Aqua vitae) Tantablins, dirty Puddings, and Flapdragons sowsd and carowsd with Balderdash”.
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| A later cartoonish representation of the game Flapdragon in the "Christmas Eve" entry in Robert Chamber's The Book of Days 1879 edition |
I will break down some of those foods that might be unfamiliar. “Pilchards” is another name for sardines; sardines are often the young versions of that fish. “Sprats” are another fish, often salted. We know neats or beef tongues and “stock fish” is a term I have heard used today for salt cod or the Italian Christmas tradition - baccala. There is a list of various preserved meats and then this “aqua vitae” would probably be brandy that was distilled multiple times, given that it is also called Brand-wine. “Tantablins” seem to be small and maybe fancy tarts or pies but it could also be slang for the insult “tart” or for what we called “cow pies” as kids. This might be related to the next one; I am unsure if he means something specific by “dirty Puddings” but a common period proverb meaning - you will take anything if desperate - was “hungry dogs eat dirty puddings.” “Flapdragons soused and caroused with Balderdash” can be taken in parts. Flap-(or Snap)Dragons was a game played especially on Christmas Eve; guests would snatch burning raisins from a bowl of lit brandy. The “flapdragons” in the phrase would be the raisins, being soused in the alcohol; caroused just meant drink a lot, so probably a poetic way of saying the same thing. This is because “balderdash,” probably before it meant nonsense, meant a, usually unappetizing, mix of wine and beer and other drink. Before moving from the North, the extreme seasoning of many of these dishes is not lost on Christmas, who says of the residents: “the men do naturally sweat salt, and the women doe weep brine.”
He goes into less detail in other regions. In Spain and Italy, the Holiday “was welcomed...with three Alphabets of salads at one meal, but all the meat upon five of their tables would scarce give a zealous Puritan his supper on good Friday.” However, in Rome itself, they “did out-Epicure the Epicure, and made Epicurisme seem sobriety, both in meat, music, perfumes, masques, or anything that might with delight fill the five senses.” In France, Christmas found a “great deal more meat and less sauce, but the most part of the Monsieurs were saucy enough of themselves.” The festive character, being written by an Englishman has little else good to say here but one comment touches close to the general message of the piece. “I observed” he says “that the miserable Country people durst not eat their own Beef or Mutton (except the tripe and offal) for there is a penalty laid upon them if they bring not their best to the Markets, either of Beast or Bird; the Gallant Monsieurs have a prerogative to have all.” He mentions no food in Germany, just gambling, but says “the Low-Countries, or Netherlands, the Dutch States feasted me in state.” Unfortunately, in Amsterdam, he gets nothing as he meets a Puritan there; “I told him my name was Christmas. At the very name of Mass, he leap'd from me like a Squirrell, as nimbly as if he had had neither gut in his belly, or stone in his breech.” Anything like a mass was shunned by the relatively new Protestant movement. Christmas voiced by a Church of England poet has nothing good to say back.
With a few exceptions, Christmas’ travels are not to his taste but what he finds in England is not much better and that will be our topic tomorrow.
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