Michaelmas, the feast of St. Michael and All Angels, was one of the most important festivals in the medieval English calendar. Falling on the 29th of September, it marked both a religious commemoration and a turning point in the agricultural and social year. In medieval England, Michaelmas was more than a liturgical observance; it was deeply embedded in the rhythms of farming life, local economy, and community traditions.
Michaelmas was dedicated to St. Michael the Archangel, the heavenly angelic warrior who, according to tradition, cast Satan out of heaven. In medieval spirituality, Michael represented protection, justice, and the triumph of divine order over chaos. Churches and chapels were often dedicated to him, especially on hills or high places, symbolising his role as a defender of heaven.
In the liturgy, Michaelmas was celebrated with a special mass, prayers, and processions. It reminded medieval Christians of the unseen spiritual warfare that paralleled earthly struggles. Angels were venerated as messengers and protectors, and devotion to St. Michael was particularly strong among knights, soldiers, and those in positions of authority.
Michaelmas was one of the four ‘quarter days’ in the medieval year, alongside Christmas (25 December), Lady Day (25 March), and Midsummer (24 June). These days divided the year into quarters and were vital in the administration of rents, contracts, and legal agreements.
Tenants often paid their rents or dues at Michaelmas. Landlords would settle accounts, and servants or labourers were frequently hired or dismissed around this time. For many, Michaelmas represented a moment of transition: a new farming year, a change of employment, or the renewal of leases.
In practice, these financial and legal obligations gave Michaelmas a strong communal character. Whole villages might gather at manorial courts held near the feast day, where disputes were settled, fines collected, and agreements sealed in front of witnesses. Markets and hiring fairs sprang up in both towns and rural centres, where prospective servants carried tokens or tools to advertise their skills – shepherds might bring a crook, dairymaids a milking stool. These fairs could last for days, combining serious business with festive entertainments, food stalls, and games. In this way, Michaelmas was not only a hinge of the legal year but also a visible expression of medieval society’s interdependence and hierarchy, linking lords, tenants, craftsmen, and labourers in a shared rhythm of obligation and renewal.
Michaelmas fell near the end of harvest, when fields had been cleared and crops stored. It was both a celebration of God’s provision and a marker of the darker season ahead. The feast day symbolised the closing of summer’s abundance and the approach of winter’s scarcity.
In some traditions, it was believed that Michaelmas marked the last day of the year when blackberries could be picked. Folklore held that when Satan fell from heaven, he landed in a blackberry bush, cursed it, and spat upon it, making the berries unfit to eat after Michaelmas.
Like other medieval festivals, Michaelmas was marked by communal feasting. The traditional dish was a goose, known as the ‘Michaelmas goose.’ Goose-fairs were held in many towns, where people purchased birds for roasting. Eating goose was thought to bring prosperity and protection in the year ahead. In some regions, a goose was even presented to landlords as part of rent payment, a custom that blended feasting with feudal obligation.
For wealthier households, Michaelmas was an occasion for hosting lavish banquets with roasted meats, spiced dishes, and strong ale. Tables might be decked with apples, nuts, and honey cakes to celebrate the changing season. In monasteries and great houses alike, Michaelmas dining was not only a matter of consumption but also of display, showcasing abundance before the leaner months of winter. Guests at these tables might enjoy storytelling, music, and entertainments long into the night, while humbler folk joined together outside with simpler meals and communal merriment.
Michaelmas also had a charitable aspect. The feast provided an occasion for almsgiving, reminding Christians of their duty to care for the poor and needy as the cold months approached. Churches distributed food, and wealthier households might provide meals for tenants or villagers.
At the same time, Michaelmas reinforced the bonds of the medieval community. By synchronising religious devotion with social and economic life, the festival united the spiritual with the practical. It was a moment when sacred liturgy, agricultural rhythms, and folk tradition blended seamlessly.
Though its prominence has declined since the Reformation, the legacy of Michaelmas lingers in England. The legal and academic years still often begin around Michaelmas, with many universities and courts marking this day as the start of their sessions. Some fairs, traditions, and seasonal sayings survive; in Nottingham, the famous Goose Fair continues as a direct descendant of medieval Michaelmas markets, while rural sayings about the weather and harvest linger in farming lore. In Ireland and parts of Scotland, remnants of Michaelmas celebrations can still be found in folk customs involving bannocks, berries, and community gatherings. These survivals remind us how deeply the festival once shaped the rhythm of rural and urban life.
In medieval England, however, Michaelmas was not merely a date on the calendar – it was a vital hinge in the life of faith, labour, and festivity, a moment that bound together sacred devotion, economic reckoning, and the turning of the agricultural year. Its echoes endure, a faint but persistent reminder of a society once woven together by shared feasts and seasons.
At the Museum, we strive to keep these traditions alive, offering our visitors a glimpse into the past and a chance to participate in the customs that have shaped our rural heritage. Come visit and be part of something historic.
