A History of Domestic Manners and Sentiments in England During the Middle Ages

by Thomas Wright

Having given these few examples of the general forms of the implements in use among the Saxons before their conversion to Christianity, as much to illustrate their manners as described by Beowulf, as to show what classes of types were originally Saxon, we will proceed to treat of their domestic manners as we learn them from the more numerous and more definite documents of a later period. We shall find it convenient to consider the subject separately as it regards in-door life and out-door life, and it will be proper first that we should form some definite notion of an Anglo-Saxon house.

No. 11. Germano-Saxon Knife.

We can already form some notion of the primeval Saxon mansion from our brief review of the poem of Beowulf; and we shall find that it continued nearly the same down to a late period. The most important part of the building was the hall, on which was bestowed all the ornamentation of which the builders and decorators of that early period were capable. Halls built of stone are alluded to in a religious poem at the beginning of the Exeter book; yet, in the earlier period at least, there can be little doubt that the materials of building were chiefly wood. Around, or near this hall, stood, in separate buildings, the bed-chambers, or bowers (búr), of which the latter name is only now preserved as applied to a summer-house in a garden; but the reader of old English poetry will remember well the common phrase of a bird in bure, a lady in her bower or chamber. These buildings, and the household offices, were all grouped within an inclosure, or outward wall, which, I imagine, was generally of earth, for the Anglo-Saxon word, weall, was applied to an earthen rampart, as well as to masonry. What is termed in the poem of Judith, wealles geát, the gate of the wall, was the entrance through this inclosure or rampart. I am convinced that many of the earth-works, which are often looked upon as ancient camps, are nothing more than the remains of the inclosures of Anglo-Saxon residences.

In Beowulf, the sleeping-rooms of Hrothgar and his court seem to have been so completely detached from the hall, that their inmates did not hear the combat that was going on in the latter building at night. In smaller houses the sleeping-rooms were fewer, or none, until we arrive at the simple room in which the inmates had board and lodging together, with a mere hedge for its inclosure, the prototype of our ordinary cottage and garden. The wall served for a defence against robbers and enemies, while, in times of peace and tranquillity, it was a protection from indiscreet intruders, for the doors of the hall and chambers seem to have been generally left open. Beggars assembled round the door of the wall—the ostium domûs—to wait for alms.

The vocabularies of the Anglo-Saxon period furnish us with the names of most of the parts of the ordinary dwellings. The entrance through the outer wall into the court, the strength of which is alluded to in early writers, was properly the gate (geát). The whole mass inclosed within this wall constituted the burh (burgh), or tun, and the inclosed court itself seems to have been designated as the cafer-tun, or inburh. The wall of the hall, or of the internal buildings in general, was called a wag, or wah, a distinctive word which remained in use till a late period in the English language, and seems to have been lost partly through the similarity of sound.[1] The entrance to the hall, or to the other buildings in the interior, was the duru, or door, which was thus distinguished from the gate. Another kind of door mentioned in the vocabularies was a hlid-gata, literally a gate with a lid or cover, which was perhaps, however, a word merely invented to represent the Latin valva, which is given as its equivalent. The door is described in Beowulf as being “fastened with fire-bands” (fyr-bendum fæst, I. 1448), which must mean iron bars.[2] Either before the door of the hall, or between the door and the interior apartment, was sometimes a selde, literally a shed, but perhaps we might now call it a portico. The different parts of the architectural structure of the hall enumerated in the vocabularies are stapul, a post or log set in the ground; stipere, a pillar; beam, a beam; ræfter, a rafter; læta, a lath; swer, a column. The columns supported bigels, an arch or vault, or fyrst, the interior of the roof, the ceiling. The hrof, or roof, was called also thecen, or thæcen, a word derived from the verb theccan, to cover; but although this is the original of our modern word thatch, our readers must not suppose that the Anglo-Saxon thæcen meant what we call a thatched roof, for we have the Anglo-Saxon word thæc-tigel, a thatch-tile, as well as hrof-tigel, a roof-tile. There was sometimes one story above the ground-floor, for which the vocabularies give the Latin word solarium, the origin of the later mediæval word, soler; but it is evident that this was not common to Anglo-Saxon houses, and the only name for it was up-flor, an upper floor. It was approached by a stæger, so named from the verb stigan, to ascend, and the origin of our modern word stair. There were windows to the hall, which were probably improvements upon the ruder primitive Saxon buildings, for the only Anglo-Saxon words for a window are eag-thyrl, an eye-hole, and eag-duru, an eye-door.

We have unfortunately no special descriptions of Anglo-Saxon houses, but scattered incidents in the Anglo-Saxon historians show us that this general arrangement of the house lasted down to the latest period of their monarchy. Thus, in the year 755, Cynewulf, king of the West Saxons, was murdered at Merton by the atheling Cyneard. The circumstances of the story are but imperfectly understood, unless we bear in mind the above description of a house. Cynewulf had gone to Merton privately, to visit a lady there, who seems to have been his mistress, and he only took a small party of his followers with him. Cyneard, having received information of this visit, assembled a body of men, entered the inclosure of the house unperceived (as appears by the context), and surrounded the detached chamber (búr) in which was the king with the lady. The king, taken by surprise, rushed to the door (on tha duru eode), and was there slain fighting. The king’s attendants, although certainly within the inclosure of the house, were out of hearing of this sudden fray (they were probably in the hall), but they were roused by the woman’s screams, rushed to the spot, and fought till, overwhelmed by the numbers of their enemies, they also were all slain. The murderers now took possession of the house, and shut the entrance gate of the wall of inclosure, to protect themselves against the body of the king’s followers who had been left at a distance. These, next day, when they heard what had happened, hastened to the spot, attacked the house, and continued fighting around the gate (ymb thá gatu) until they made their way in, and slew all the men who were there. Again, we are told, in the Ramsey Chronicle published by Gale, of a rich man in the Danish period, who was oppressive to his people, and, therefore, suspicious of them. He accordingly had four watchmen every night, chosen alternately from his household, who kept guard at the outside of his hall, evidently for the purpose of preventing his enemies from being admitted into the inclosure by treachery. He lay in his chamber, or bower. One night, the watchmen having drunk more than usual, were unguarded in their speech, and talked together of a plot into which they had entered against the life of their lord. He, happening to be awake, heard their conversation from his chamber, and defeated their project. We see here the chamber of the lord of the mansion so little substantial in its construction that its inmates could hear what was going on out of doors. At a still later period, a Northumbrian noble, whom Hereward visited in his youth, had a building for wild beasts within his house or inclosure. One day a bear broke loose, and immediately made for the chamber or bower of the lady of the household, in which she had taken shelter with her women, and whither, no doubt, the savage animal was attracted by their cries. We gather from the context that this asylum would not have availed them, had not young Hereward slain the bear before it reached them. In fact, the lady’s chamber was still only a detached room, probably with a very weak door, which was not capable of withstanding any force.

The Harleian Manuscript, No. 603 (in the British Museum), contains several illustrations of Anglo-Saxon domestic architecture, most of which are rather sketchy and indefinite; but there is one picture (fol. 57, v^o.) which illustrates, in a very interesting manner, the distribution of the house. Of this, an exact copy is given in the accompanying cut, [No. 12].[3] The manuscript is, perhaps, as old as the ninth century, and the picture here given illustrates Psalm cxi., in the Vulgate version, the description of the just and righteous chieftain: the beggars are admitted within the inclosure (where the scene is laid), to receive the alms of the lord; and he and his lady are occupied in distributing bread to them, while his servants are bringing out of one of the bowers raiment to clothe the naked. The larger building behind, ending in a sort of round tower with a cupola, is evidently the hall—the stag’s head seems to mark its character. The buildings to the left are chambers or bowers; to the right is the domestic chapel, and the little room attached is perhaps the chamber of the chaplain.

No. 12. Anglo-Saxon Mansion.