Beef, Plum Pudding, and Ale: Victorian Christmas Food and Gifts

There seems to be nothing more important to people at Christmas other than gifts and food (and maybe festive television), so I thought it would be interesting to look back at the food and gifts on offer to the poor and working class in Victorian Peterborough.

Peterborough Workhouse often saw its numbers swell around Christmas, primarily due to the cold weather, but also at the chance of a warm meal and a little festive cheer. The Christmas menu in the workhouse was always the same in the early Victorian era. Inmates were given beef, plum pudding, and ale; a pint for the adults and a half pint for the children. In some years reference is made to the addition of potatoes, but it is almost always to beef alone. Tobacco and occasionally pipes were also provided, particularly to the sick and elderly (for comfort, not for evil intentions). These festive offerings were provided ‘by subscription’ – charity by those who could afford it. The guardians refused to pay out for the extravagance and stated in no uncertain terms that such events should not be paid from the money allocated to them. There was no mention of any gifts offered.

Elsewhere in Peterborough during the Victorian period residents of the city almshouses received gifts of tea, fabric, and coals, as well as the occasional offer of beef and small amounts of money. In the city jail the inmates were also provided with beef and plum pudding, but notably, no ale, because drunken Christmas brawls were for the streets, not the jail.

Wealthy landowners such as the Fitzwilliams gave presents of beef, money, coals and even slips and stockings to their employees and their families (the slips and stockings were for the women, of course). For those with large estates this meant presents for hundreds of people (1200 for the Fitzwilliams).

These gifts were more than affordable by the richest in society, so the offer of Christmas gifts ‘by persons who are moving in the middling sphere in life’ was noted in the paper in 1847.[1] Two employers offered gifts to their employees, one of coal to all of his staff, and the other ‘above thirty loaves of bread, eighty pounds of mutton, and a quantity of sixpences’. The giving of beef dominates the Christmas stories in the papers, so it is refreshing to find other gifts offered and to be offered by those who cannot so easily afford it but valued their staff.

By the last quarter of the nineteenth century the scene in the workhouse had changed somewhat and there was a more celebratory feel (or at least a change in reporting). The traditional beef and ale had been partnered with Yorkshire puddings and the dining room had been ‘very prettily decorated with evergreens and winter flowers. Crosses, triangles and other devices were suspended on the walls, together with mottoes and Christmas texts.’ [2] Interestingly, exactly the same text appeared in the 1878 and 1885 report in a newspaper, with the exception of the word ‘crosses’, which shows both a continuation of tradition and poor journalism. I think we can also assume the mottoes on the walls were a little more ‘Joy to the world’ than ‘Live, Laugh, Yule Log.’

Local dignitaries (the Vergettes, Buckles etc) attended to help with carving and handing out their Christmas gifts. Many gifts were given to the inmates, these included: plum cake, tobacco, tea, sweets, money, chocolate, books, nuts, toys, oranges, a Christmas letter ‘from a lady with a loving heart’ to every resident (in both years), and a peep show(!). The inmates also had a visit from the band of the Northants Engineers who played music to the residents during the festive season. All the well wishers went home satisfied the residents had enjoyed a very pleasant day, but also with the knowledge that they had helped with the festivities, not just financially, but with their time too.

These examples show how traditions change and also the varying face of gift giving and charity. We still decorate our houses with evergreens and we still gift chocolate, books, and money (but beware the friend who gifts you a bag of oranges and a peep show!).

Merry Christmas and thanks for your support this year. I hope you enjoy your Christmas festivities, whether it’s eating roast beef and drinking ale, or eating chocolate in your new stockings.

[1] ‘Christmas Gifts’, Cambridge Independent Press, 2 January 1847, p.3.

[2] ‘Christmas at the Workhouse’, Peterborough Standard, 28 December 1878, p.5., ‘Christmas at the Workhouse’, Peterborough Express, 29 December 1885, p.3.

 Images by Robert Owen-Wahl and Clker-Free-Vector-Images via Pixabay

The Greatford Hall Fire

 

We are fast approaching the 100^th anniversary of the fire at Greatford Hall, a Tudor manor in Greatford, Lincolnshire. The Greatford Hall estate sits at the west of the village of Greatford, near Bourne. The hall sits in close proximity to the 11^th century church of St Thomas of Canterbury and are both enclosed in the remains of a moat created by the splitting of the West Glen River.

Records state that the hall was early 16^th century (Tudor) but it was destroyed in a fire in 1922. Nearby Uffington House was also lost to such an event in 1904. But whereas Uffington House has been consigned to history, Greatford Hall is still lived in as a home

The hall was supposedly built in 1504 by John Fitzwilliam. The house was built in the characteristic H shape of the era and contained many beautiful features including wood panelling and a mantlepiece carved by John Fitzwilliam himself. It is best known as an insane asylum during the eighteenth century, when it was run by Rev. Dr Francis Willis along with neighbouring Shillingthorpe Hall which was located a couple of miles west of Greatford. Willis was famous for curing King George III and is buried in the neighbouring church.

As for the fire, we are told it started at around 4.30am on Tuesday 5^th September and was first spotted by a London architect who was visiting the house to discuss enlarging it. It started in the east wing and took hold quickly. Major Fitzwilliam and his family, who had only recently bought back the house, were able to escape on account of their rooms being on lower floors, however the servants were sequestered on the uppermost floors found themselves unable to escape the fire. They had no choice but to exit via the windows, some climbing down knotted bedding, one on a ladder, and two jumping. The two jumpers were Eva and Gladys Palmer, a cook and housemaid. They were both badly injured and were conveyed to Stamford Infirmary, one suffering an injury to her back. Fortunately, all of the household managed to escape with their lives that night.

Fire brigades were despatched from Stamford and Bourne, and did all they could to put out the flames, but it was said the house was completely consumed after only 15 minutes. All of the contents were lost, including the furniture, wood panelling, paintings, and everything in the gun room, which went up with a large explosion once the fire reached it! However, they did manage to save some China, which was a minor consolation for the loss. They did have insurance, but apparently for a sum not even close to the £50,000 required to cover the cost of the house and contents. The outer walls of the house to the south were still standing but said to be in such a poor state that they were useless for building with.

However, the story does not stop there. A few weeks later the papers revealed that insurers had been sifting through the ruins for any valuable items that had survived the blaze, specifically jewels that might have survived the intense heat. Thankfully, they discovered a large diamond brooch for their trouble.

Two people were congratulated for their courageous behaviour during the fire, both being presented with money from the Society for the Preservation of Life. Local man Jack Pask (not from Spalding as the papers claimed) whose parents ran the forge and Post Office, used a ladder to gain access to a bedroom where he found an unconscious woman amongst the smoke and flames. He gathered her up and spirited her down the ladder, saving her life. Another servant, Mabel Marsh, managed to escape the fire by shimmying down bedsheets that she had knotted, before running through the village in nothing but her nightdress calling out ‘fire!’ to gain the support of the villagers. In any other times she would have been severely admonished!

Pictures of the fire-ravaged house survive in many of the newspapers, sadly of poor quality, but they do show the remaining walls and provide before and after pictures for context. A picture of the destroyed hall even made it on to the back page of the Daily Mirror!

The house was thankfully rebuilt in 1925. Looking at the house now, it is difficult to believe that it has been rebuilt, the south face of the building looking largely unchanged. The front of the hall visible to the public is an architectural triumph, with improved windows in the two gable ends and two Hardwick Hall-like windows making the most of the views and summer sun. The hall may have been destroyed 100 years ago, but it wasn’t entirely lost, and you can still view the impressive early 16th century façade from the road. There aren’t too many Tudor buildings left in the area, and this is worth taking a look at, along with the other wonderful features of the village, which I will write about in another blog post.

 Acknowledgements:

Enormous thanks to Lynne Loder for supplying additional information on her grandfather Jack Pask via Frank Newbon's History of Stamford Facebook page. A timely reminder that local history is often family history, and we should ensure we record both.

References:

 £50,000 Fire Near Stamford, Lincolnshire Standard and Boston Guardian, 9 September 1922, p.5.

Greatford Hall Destroyed, Grantham Journal, 9 September 1922, p.7.

Maids’ Narrow Escape, Daily Mirror, 7 September 1922, p.16.

Jewels in Ashes, Weekly Dispatch (London), 24 September 1922, p.3.

Daring Fire Rescue, Nottingham Journal, 4 December 1922, p.5.