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

by Thomas Wright

The usual age for sending a boy to foster appears to have been seven years. That was the age at which Fulke Fitz-Warine was sent to Joce de Dynan in Ludlow Castle. “The lady,” the narrative tells us, “became with child; when she was delivered, at the time ordained by God, they called the child Fulke. And when the child was seven years old, they sent it to Joce de Dynan to teach and nourish; for Joce was a knight of good accomplishment. Joce received him with great honour and great affection, and educated him in his chambers with his own children.” Fulke the younger, in the next generation, was taken as his foster-child by the king (Henry II.), and was nourished and educated with the young princes, of whom John, in the sequel, proved a bad foster-brother. The great barons sought to form alliances of this kind with the king, as well as with his great ministers and other men of power. In the romance of “Garin le Loherain” (vol. i. p. 62), king Pepin gives the two orphan sons of Hervis of Metz, Garin and Begon, as foster-children to the count Hardrés, and they thus become severally the foster-brothers, or, as they are termed in the old French, compains (companions), of his two sons, Begon being the foster-brother of Guillaume of Montclin, and Garin of Fromont. Although they belong to rival families, and are each other’s enemies through the turbulent scenes which form the subject of the story, the sentiment of the relationship by fostering often shows itself. This yearning after something beyond mere ordinary friendship seems to have been often felt in the middle ages, and led to various characteristic practices, among which one of the most remarkable was that of sworn brotherhood. Two men—they are generally knights—who felt a sufficiently strong sentiment towards each other, engaged, under the most solemn oaths, in a bond of fraternity for life, implying a constant and faithful friendship to each other. This practice enters largely into the plot of several of the mediæval romances, as in that of “Amis and Amiloun,” and in the curious English metrical romance of “King Athelston,” printed in the “Reliquiæ Antiquæ.” The desire for this true friendship was not unnaturally increased by the general prevalence of treacherous falsehood and hateful feuds. There is a beautiful passage in the romance of “Garin,” just quoted, which illustrates this sentiment, while it furnishes an interesting picture of domestic life. “One day,” we are told, “Begues was in his castle of Belin, and beside him sat the beautiful Beatris. The duke kissed her both on the mouth and on the cheeks, and very sweetly the duchess smiled. In the middle of the hall she saw her two sons, the eldest of whom was Garin, and the youngest was named Hernaudin; their ages were respectively twelve years, and ten. Along with them were six damoisels (gentlemen’s sons) of worth, and they were running and leaping together, and playing, and laughing, and making game. The duke looked at them, and began to sigh; which was observed by the lady, who questioned him—‘Ah! rich duke! why have you sorrowful thoughts? You have gold and silver in your coffers, falcons in plenty on your perches, and rich cloths, buildings, and mules, and palfreys, and baggage-horses; and you have crushed all your enemies. You have no neighbour within six days’ journey powerful enough to refuse to come to your service if you send for him.’ ‘Lady,’ said the duke, ‘what you say is true; but in one thing you have made a great oversight. Wealth consists neither in rich cloths, nor in money, nor in buildings, nor in horses but it is made of kinsmen and friends: the heart of one man is worth all the gold in a country.’”—

Dist li dus, “Dame, verités avez dit;
Mais d’une chose i avez moult mespris.
N’est pas richoise ne de vair ne de gris,
Ne de deniers, de murs, ne de roncins,
Mais est richoise de parens et d’amins;
Li cuers d’un homme vaut tout l’or d’un pais.”
—Garin le Loherain, ii. 218.

The incident of the younger, or even at times the elder, sons of feudal lords or landholders going to seek service is the groundwork of the romance of “Blonde of Oxford,” and of the story of “Courtois d’Arras,” printed by Meon in his collection of fabliaux and stories. The latter tale is a mediæval version of the scriptural story of the Prodigal Son. Youths of good family easily found service in this manner, and the service itself was not considered dishonourable, because lords and gentlemen admitted nobody to immediate attendance on their persons but sons of gentlemen—persons of as good blood as themselves. To be a good servant was a gentlemanly accomplishment, and the payment these gentlemanly servants received consisted ordinarily in their clothing and gifts of various kinds, rarely in money. I have already hinted that the intercourse between the male and female portions of the household was on a footing of familiarity and freedom, and at the same time on a tone of gallantry which could hardly produce a high degree of morality, but the details on this subject, though very abundant, are in great part of a description which cannot here be entered upon. This intercourse extended to what we should now call the privacy of the bed-chamber. It was usual, indeed, for the ladies to receive visits from the gentlemen, tête-à-tête, in their chamber. In the fabliau of “Guillaume au Faucon,” printed in Barbazan, the young “damoisel,” as the noble youth was usually termed, having fallen in love with the beautiful wife of the lord in whose service he was, took an opportunity of visiting her in her chamber, when he knew that all her maidens were employed in another part of the building. Without knocking, he opened the door gently, and found the lady sitting alone on her bed. The lady saluted him with “a sweet smile,” and told him to come in and sit on the bed by her side, and there “he laughed, and talked, and plaid with her, and the lady did the same”— Rit et parole et joe à li,
Et la dame tot autresi.
In the midst of these familiarities, Guillaume made his declaration of love, and was rejected, but his pursuit was ultimately successful. In another fabliau of the thirteenth century, that of “Gautier d’Aupais,” it is the daughter of his lord and lady with whom the young “damoisel” falls in love, and he takes the opportunity one morning, while the two latter are at church, to pay a visit to the young lady in her chamber. Although in bed on account of illness—and it has been already stated how people went to bed without any clothing—the lady is not surprised by Gautier’s visit, but invites him to sit on her bed, and tell her something to amuse her, and he finds the opportunity of making his love with more success than the hero of the other tale. In the same manner, the ladies are continually described as visiting the gentlemen in their chambers, both by day and by night. In “Blonde of Oxford,” a fashionable romance composed for the entertainment of the best society, Blonde thus leaves her bed, throwing only a mantle over her person, to pass whole nights with Jean of Dammartin, and their interviews are described in language which would not be allowed in any respectable book at the present day. The chevalier de la Tour-Landry, in his moral instructions to his daughters, tells them a story to illustrate the ill results of a quarrelsome temper. There was a young lady, he says, the daughter of “a very gentle knight,” who quarrelled at the game of tables with a gentleman who had no better temper than herself, and who, provoked by the irritating language she used towards him, told her that she was known to be in the habit of going by night into the men’s chambers, and kissing and embracing them in their beds without candle; and this is told, not in reproof of conduct which was unusually bad, but to show that people who speak ill of others run the risk of having their own failings exposed. Examples of this intercourse of persons of different sexes in their chambers, and of the results which frequently followed, from the mediæval romances and stories, might be multiplied to almost any extent.

In these stories, the ladies in general show no great degree of delicacy, but, on the contrary, they are commonly very forward. It is usual with them to fall in love with the other sex, and, so far from attempting to conceal their passion, they often become suitors, and make their advances with more warmth and less delicacy than is shown by the gentlemen in a similar position. Not only are their manners dissolute, but their language and conversation are loose beyond anything that those who have not read these interesting records of mediæval life can easily conceive, which was a common failing with both sexes. The author of the “Ménagier de Paris” (ii. 60), in recommending to his daughters some degree of modesty on this point, makes use of words which his modern editor, although printing a text in obsolete language, thought it advisable to suppress. It might be argued that the use of such language is evidence rather of the coarseness than of the immorality of the age, but, unfortunately, the latter interpretation is supported by the whole tenor of contemporary literature and anecdote, which leave no doubt that mediæval society was profoundly immoral and licentious.

On the other hand, the gallantry and refinement of feeling which the gentleman is made to show towards the other sex, is but a conventional politeness; for the ladies are too often treated with great brutality. Men beating their wives, and even women with whom they quarrel who are not their wives, is a common incident in the tales and romances. The chevalier de la Tour-Landry tells his daughters the story of a woman who was in the habit of contradicting her husband in public, and replying to him ungraciously, for which, after the husband had expostulated in vain, he one day raised his fist and knocked her down, and kicked her in the face while she was down, and broke her nose. “And so,” says the knightly instructor, “she was disfigured for life, and thus, through her ill behaviour and bad temper, she had her nose spoiled, which was a great misfortune to her. It would have been better for her to be silent and submissive, for it is only right that words of authority should belong to her lord, and the wife’s honour requires that she should listen in peace and obedience.” The good “chevalier” makes no remark on the husband’s brutality, as though it were by no means an unusual occurrence.

A trouvère of the thirteenth century, named Robert de Blois, compiled a code of instructions in good manners for young ladies in French verse, under the title of the “Chastisement des Dames,” which is printed by Barbazan, and forms a curious illustration of feudal domestic manners. It was unbecoming in a lady, according to Robert de Blois, to talk too much; she ought especially to refrain from boasting of the attentions paid to her by the other sex; and she was recommended not to show too much freedom in her games and amusements, lest the men should be encouraged to libertinism. In going to church, she was not to “trot or run,” but to walk seriously, not going in advance of her company, and looking straight before her, and not to this side or the other, but to salute “debonairely” all persons she met. She is recommended not to let men put their hands into her breasts, or kiss her on the mouth, as it might lead to greater familiarities. She was not to look at a man too much, unless he were her acknowledged lover; and when she had a lover, she was not to boast or talk too much of him. She was not to expose her body uncovered out of vanity, as her breast, or her legs, or her sides, nor to undress in the presence of men. She was not to be too ready in accepting presents from the other sex. The ladies are particularly warned against scolding and disputing, against swearing, against eating and drinking too freely at table, and against getting drunk, the latter being a practice from which much mischief might arise. A lady was not to cover her face when the went in public, as a handsome face was made to be seen, and it was not good manners to remain with the face covered before a gentleman of rank. An exception, however, is made in the case of ugly or deformed faces, which might be covered. There was another exception to the counsel just mentioned. “A lady who is pale-faced, or who has not a good smell, ought to breakfast early in the morning; for good wine gives a very good colour; and she who eats and drinks well must heighten her colour.” One who has bad breath is recommended to eat aniseed, fennel, and cumin to her breakfast, and to avoid breathing in people’s faces. A lady is to be very attentive to her behaviour in church, rules for which are given. If she could sing, she was to do so when asked, and not require too much pressing. Ladies are further recommended to keep their hands clean, to cut their nails often, and not to suffer them to grow beyond the finger, or to harbour dirt. In passing other people’s houses, ladies were not to look into them; “for a person often does things privately in his house, which he would not wish to be seen, if any one should come before his door.” For this reason, too, when a lady went into another person’s house, she is recommended to cough at the entrance, or to speak out loud, so that the inmates might not be taken by surprise. The directions for a lady’s behaviour at table are very particular. “In eating, you must avoid much laughing or talking. If you eat with another (i. e., in the same plate, or of the same mess), turn the nicest bits to him, and do not go picking out the finest and largest for yourself, which is not courteous. Moreover, no one should eat greedily a choice bit which is too large or too hot, for fear of choking or burning herself.... Each time you drink, wipe your mouth well, that no grease may go into the wine, which is very unpleasant to the person who drinks after you. But when you wipe your mouth for drinking, do not wipe your eyes or nose with the table-cloth, and avoid spilling from your mouth, or greasing your hands too much.” The lady is further, and particularly, recommended not to utter falsehoods. The remainder of the poem consist of directions in making love and receiving the addresses of suitors. The “Book” of the chevalier de la Tour-Landry contains instructions for young ladies, in substance very much like these, but illustrated by stories and examples.

The chamber-maidens also went abroad, like the young sons of gentlemen; but female servants who came as strangers appear not in general to have been well regarded, and they probably were, or were considered as, a lower class. The circumstance of their having left the country where they were known, was looked upon as prima facie evidence that their conduct had brought them into discredit there. The author of the “Ménagier de Paris” advises his daughter never to take any such chambrières, without having first sent to make strict inquiries about them in the parts from whence they came. This same early writer on domestic economy divides the servants, who, in a large household, were very numerous, into three classes: those who were employed on a sudden, and only for a certain work, with regard to whom the principal caution given is to bargain with them for the price of their labour before they begin; those who were employed for a certain time in a particular description of work, as tailors, shoemakers, butchers, and others, who always came to work in the house on materials belonging to the master of the house, or harvest-men, &c., in the country; and domestic servants who were hired by the year. These latter were expected to pay an absolute passive obedience to the lord and lady of the household, and to those set in authority by them. The lady of the house had the especial charge of the female servants, and the “Ménagier” contains rather minute directions as to her housekeeping duties. She was to require of the maid-servants, “that early in the morning the entrance to your hostel, that is, the hall, and the other places by which people enter and stop in the hostel to converse, be swept and made clean, and that the footstools and covers of the benches and forms be dusted and shaken, and after this that the other chambers be in like manner cleaned and arranged for the day.” They were next to attend to and feed all the “chamber animals,” such as pet dogs, cage birds, &c. The next thing to be done was to portion out to each servant her or his work for the day. At midday the servants were to have their first meal, when they were to be fed plentifully, but “only of one meat, and not of several or of any delicacies; and give them one only kind of drink, nourishing but not heady, whether wine or other; and admonish them to eat heartily, and to drink well and plentifully, for it is right that they should eat all at once, without sitting too long, and at one breath, without reposing on their meal, or halting, or leaning with their elbows on the table; and as soon as they begin to talk, or to rest on their elbows, make them rise, and remove the table.” After their “second labour,” and on feast-days, the servants were to have another, apparently a lighter, repast, and lastly, in the evening (au vespre), they were to have another abundant meal, like their dinner, and then, “if the season required it,” they were to be “warmed and made comfortable.” The lady of the house was then, by herself or a deputy on whom she could depend, to see that the house was closed, and to take charge of the keys, that nobody could go out or come in; and then to have all the fires carefully “covered,” and send all the servants to bed, taking care that they put out their candles properly, to prevent the risk of fire. In the English poem of the “Seven Sages,” printed by Weber, the emperor is described as going to his chamber, after the time of locking windows and gates— Whan men leke windowe and gate,
Themparour com to chambre late.
—Weber, iii. 60.
And it appears from a tale in the same collection, that the doors and windows were unlocked at daybreak—

Tho (when) the day dawen gan,
Awai stal the yonge man;
Men unlek dore and windowe.
—Ib., p. 87.

There was another duty performed by the ladies in the mediæval household, which was a very important one in an age of turbulence, and must not be overlooked—they were both nurses and doctors. Medical men were not then at hand to be consulted, and the sick or wounded man was handed over to the care of the mistress of the house and her maidens. The reader of Chaucer will remember the medicinal knowledge displayed by dame Pertelot in the “Nonne-Prestes Tale.” Medicinal herbs were grown in every garden, and were dried or made into decoctions, and kept for use. In the early romances we often meet with ladies who possessed plants and other objects which possessed the power of miraculous cures, and which they had obtained in some mysterious manner. Thus, in the Carlovingian romance of “Gaufrey,” when Robastre was so dangerously wounded that there remained no hope of his life, the good wife of the traitor Grifon undertook to cure him. “And she went to a coffer and opened it, and took out of it a herb which has so great virtue that whoever takes it will be relieved from all harm. She pounded and mixed it in a mortar, and then came to Robastre and gave it him. It had no sooner passed his throat than he was as sound as an apple” (“Gaufrey,” p. 119). So in “Fierabras” (p. 67), the Saracen princess Floripas had in her chamber the powerful “mandeglore” (mandrake), which she applied to the wounds of Oliver, and they were instantly healed. In the “Roman de la Violette” (p. 104), when Gerart, desperately wounded, is carried into the castle, the maiden who was lady of it took him into a chamber, and there took off his armour, undressed him, and put him to bed. They examined all his wounds, and applied to them ointments of great efficacy, and under this treatment he soon recovered. In the English romance of “Amis and Amiloun,” when sir Amiloun is discovered struck with leprosy, the wife of his friend Amis takes him into her chamber, strips him of all his clothing, bathes him herself, and then puts him to bed— Into hir chaumber she can him lede,
And kest of al his pover wede (poor clothes),
And bathed his bodi al bare;
And to a bedde swithe (quickly) him brought,
With clothes riche and wele ywrought;
Ful blithe of him thai ware.
—Weber, ii. 459.
To the knowledge of medicines was too often added another knowledge, that of poisons—a science which was carried to a great degree of perfection in the middle ages, and of which there were regular professors. The practice of poisoning was, indeed, carried on to a frightful extent, and it appears, from a variety of evidence, that women were commonly agents in it.

A great part of the foregoing remarks apply exclusively to the aristocratic portion of society, which included all those who had the right to become knights. Through the whole extent of this portion of society one blood was believed to run, which was distinguished from that of all other classes by the title of “gentle blood.” The pride of gentle blood, which was one of the distinguishing characteristics of feudalism, was very great in the middle ages. It was believed that the mark of this blood could never disappear; and many of the mediæval stories turn upon the circumstance of a child of gentle blood having been stolen or abandoned in its earlier infancy, and bred up, without any knowledge of its origin, as a peasant among peasants, or as a burgher among burghers, but displaying, as it grew towards manhood, by its conduct, the unmistakable proofs of its gentle origin, in spite of education and example. The burgher class—the merchant or tradesman, or the manufacturer—appear always as money-getting and money-saving people, and individuals often became very rich. This circumstance became a temptation, on the one hand, to the aristocrat, whose tendency was usually, through his prodigality, to become poor, and, on the other, to the rich man of no blood, who sought to buy aristocratic alliances by his wealth, and intermarriages between the two classes were not very unfrequent. In most cases, at least in the romances and stories, it was an aristocratic young lady who became united with a wealthy merchant, and it was usually a stroke of selfish policy on the part of the lady’s father. In the fabliau of the “Vilain Mire” (Barbazan, ii. 1)—the origin of Molière’s “Médecin malgré lui,”—and in one or two other old stories, the aristocratic young lady is married to an agriculturist. Marriages of this description are represented as being never happy; the husband has no sympathy for his wife’s gentility, and, according to the code of “chivalry,” the lady was perfectly justified in being unfaithful to her husband as often as the liked, especially if she sinned with men who were superior to him in blood.