The Medieval Art of Controlled Spitting
Picture this: you’re at a grand medieval banquet, and suddenly you need to spit. But wait—there’s actually a proper way to do it. Medieval table manners dictated that spitting at or across the dining table was rude, but spitting on the floor wasn’t. Daniel of Beccles said that burping was alright, but you had to look up at the ceiling as you did it. The idea of spitting being so normalized that it required specific etiquette rules might shock us today, but in medieval times, this was simply accepted bodily function management. In the Middle Ages it was also common, and so presumably not considered rude, for diners to pick their noses at the table. Think of it like having phone etiquette today—everyone had to learn the “proper” way to handle basic human needs. What’s fascinating is that they distinguished between “rude” spitting (across the table) and “acceptable” spitting (on the floor), showing that even disgusting habits had social hierarchies. This wasn’t chaos—it was organized chaos, with rules that everyone understood.
When Burping Required Looking Skyward
Medieval diners had to master the art of the polite belch, and it involved some peculiar choreography. Daniel of Beccles said that burping was alright, but you had to look up at the ceiling as you did it. This wasn’t just random advice—medieval people believed that looking upward while burping somehow made it more respectful, perhaps directing the offensive sound away from fellow diners or toward heaven. Compare this to today’s cultures where there are several countries where folks see belching as a compliment. These include China, Taiwan, Turkey, Egypt and some Middle Eastern countries, and you realize that burping etiquette has always been culturally specific. The medieval version was like a theatrical performance—you couldn’t just let one rip, you had to accompany it with the proper head movement. It’s almost endearing to imagine a great hall full of diners simultaneously tilting their heads back like synchronized swimmers whenever they needed to burp. This rule shows how medieval people tried to maintain dignity even during the most undignified moments.
The Bone-Throwing Myth That Never Was
Hollywood has completely fooled us about medieval dining habits, especially when it comes to bones. Do not throw your bones on the floor, but put them in a ‘voiding’ bowl. The popular image of Henry VIII throwing bones over his shoulder, or feeding them to his dogs, would mortify Tudor sensibilities. Bones were not wasted; they were kept for later use, given to servants or the poor to make stock. The reality was far more civilized and practical than the movies suggest. Medieval and Tudor people were actually quite resourceful—nothing went to waste, especially not valuable bones that could be turned into nutritious broth. Think of it like today’s farm-to-table movement, except they practiced reduce-reuse-recycle centuries before it became trendy. The ideas that we have of insatiable and gluttonous knights devouring their food, and spitting out bones onto the floor, are only seen in films. Indeed, Medieval knights aspired to more elegant and courtly ways: they would be expected to offer the best joints to their companion. The “voiding bowl” was essentially their version of a compost bin, showing that proper waste management was considered a mark of good breeding.
Tudor Napkins and the Devil’s Favorite Perch
The Tudors had some truly bizarre beliefs about where to place their napkins, and it involved spiritual warfare. Napkins were placed over the shoulder, as it was believed that was where the Devil sat. This wasn’t just about practicality—Tudor people genuinely believed that Satan liked to perch on people’s left shoulders, whispering evil thoughts into their ears during meals. So they’d drape their napkins there like a holy shield, protecting themselves from demonic influence while dining. The men would dine without their hats to show respect to the Master and women would cover their ears to shield themselves from the whisperings of the devil. It’s like having a security blanket that doubles as dining protection. Imagine explaining to a Tudor dinner guest that you forgot your napkin—you’d basically be telling them you were defenseless against Satan’s dinner-time temptations. This practice shows how deeply superstition was woven into everyday life, turning something as simple as napkin placement into a spiritual battleground.
The Thirteenth Guest Superstition and Kaspar the Cat
British dinner parties lived in mortal fear of the number thirteen, leading to some wonderfully absurd solutions. A tradition at British dinner parties was that it was bad luck to serve thirteen guests. If a party did have thirteen guests, many houses and establishments would have a dummy fourteenth guest. Napoleon even had a fourteenth diner on retainer to always avoid sitting down to a banquet with an unlucky number of guests. Since the 1920s, the Savoy Hotel in London has seated a black wooden cat, named Kaspar, as the extra diner in its private dining rooms. The Savoy’s solution is particularly charming—Kaspar the cat gets his own place setting, napkin, and even gets served each course, though he obviously doesn’t eat anything. It’s like having an imaginary friend, except this imaginary friend prevents supernatural doom at dinner parties. Napoleon’s approach was even more extravagant—having a professional fourteenth guest on payroll just in case. You’ve got to admire the commitment to superstition when you’re literally hiring someone whose only job is to prevent bad luck by eating dinner.
When Pets Were Part of the Place Setting
Medieval dinner parties often resembled modern pet cafés, except it wasn’t intentional entertainment. Everyone loves dogs and cats – even at suppertime. There are ancient Greek vases that depict dogs and cats in dinner scenes with humans. One medieval manners manual reminded children to not stroke dogs and cats at the dinner table. By the 17th century, feline pets had been banished from the dining table altogether, with one rule book specifically telling readers not to bring cats to supper. The fact that manuals had to specifically tell people not to pet animals while eating shows just how common this was. For centuries, though, from Ancient Rome to Victorian England (and probably even today for some people), having dogs at dinner was acceptable and even encouraged. Dogs lounging by the dining hall fire or sitting by the host’s feet, ready to gobble up scraps, was a familiar sight. Think of it as the original farm-to-table experience, complete with four-legged garbage disposals. The gradual banishment of cats suggests they were probably being more disruptive than helpful—anyone who’s owned a cat can imagine them walking across platters and knocking over goblets. Dogs, being more trainable and content to wait for scraps, got to keep their dining privileges much longer.
Anne Boleyn’s Royal Spitting Assistants
Even queens needed help with their bodily functions, and Anne Boleyn had perhaps the most bizarre royal assistance imaginable. In medieval and Tudor England, the disgusting habit of spitting was even more commonplace than it is today. Anne Boleyn, at her coronation banquet in 1533, had two ladies-in-waiting in attendance who were tasked with holding cloths up for her to spit into. This would have been seen as quite regal behaviour! Imagine being hired for that job—your royal duty is literally to be a human spittoon holder. But in Tudor times, this was considered the height of luxury service, like having your own personal tissue dispenser. The fact that she needed two ladies-in-waiting for this task suggests either she was a prolific spitter or they worked in shifts to ensure no royal spit ever hit the floor. This wasn’t considered gross—it was a status symbol. Only the wealthiest could afford dedicated spitting assistants, while common folk had to manage their own saliva disposal. It’s a perfect example of how extreme wealth can turn basic human functions into elaborate ceremonies requiring multiple staff members.
The Communal Cup and Pre-Sip Hygiene Rules
Before individual place settings became standard, medieval diners had to navigate the tricky etiquette of shared drinking vessels. Shared drinking cups were common even at lavish banquets for all but those who sat at the high table, as was the standard etiquette of breaking bread and carving meat for one’s fellow diners. The hygiene rules around this were surprisingly sophisticated. The mouth should be empty before drinking from a shared cup. This meant you couldn’t take a swig while still chewing your food—imagine the chunks floating in the communal wine! Empty and wipe your mouth before drinking. French sources recommend that when you are given a drink, either drink it all or dispose of any that is left. The English sources seem to indicate that it is rude to drink the whole thing. So you had to clean your mouth, take a polite sip (but not too much), and pass it along. It was like a medieval drinking game with very specific rules about courtesy and cleanliness. The French and English disagreement about finishing the cup shows that even basic etiquette varied by culture, creating potential diplomatic incidents over drink portions.
The Bread-Breaking Ceremony and Crumb Management
Medieval bread etiquette was surprisingly complex, involving both spiritual and practical considerations. How to properly enjoy bread was a matter not up for debate in Victorian table etiquette. From what I can tell, two things were expected: That a piece of bread never be cut before having a bite, and that each bit was torn from the slice or roll before being put into one’s mouth. This tearing rather than cutting was both practical and symbolic—bread was considered sacred, so it should be broken by hand like communion bread. It is considered vulgar to dip a piece of bread into the preserves or gravy upon your plate and then bite it. Medieval people took their bread so seriously that there were rules about crumb cleanup too. He had a special fingerbowl – heated in a chafing dish – and a designated napkin to protect his fine ‘manchet’ bread roll. When he had eaten enough, he stood and washed his hands while an usher brushed crumbs from his royal person. Henry VIII even had a personal crumb-brusher! This shows that proper bread consumption was considered an art form requiring specialized tools and techniques. The reverence for bread reflects its importance as the staff of life—wasting or mishandling it was almost a religious offense.
The Evolution of Fork Fear and Effeminacy Concerns
The introduction of forks to European dining caused a surprising amount of controversy and gender anxiety. During the Renaissance period in Europe, there were no forks. The custom of using forks began in Italy but it took a while for it to catch on. Forks were initially viewed almost to a fault as excessively refined. In the case of men, it was even considered a sign of effeminacy. Even then, only the wealthy could afford them throughout the 17th century. Men were literally afraid that using a fork would make them appear feminine—it was considered too delicate a tool for manly hands. Widespread use of forks did not take root until much later. In 1611, Thomas Coryat, an English traveler who adopted the custom of using a fork when in Italy, wrote how his compatriots made fun of him on his return. It was only in the 18th century that guides to manners required the use of a fork as an individual implement. Poor Thomas Coryat became the laughingstock of England for bringing back this “pretentious” Italian utensil. The resistance to forks shows how deeply conservative people were about changing their eating habits, and how something we consider essential was once viewed as unnecessary luxury and even a threat to masculinity.
What’s really striking is how these bizarre table manners reveal the complex social anxieties of their times—from supernatural fears to gender roles to class distinctions, all playing out over dinner plates?
