Chapter I

INTRODUCTORY.--THE ANGLO-SAXONS BEFORE THEIR CONVERSION.--GENERAL
ARRANGEMENT OF A SAXON HOUSE.

Much has been written at different times on the costume and some other circumstances connected with the condition of our forefathers in past times, but no one has undertaken with much success to treat generally of the domestic manners of the middle ages. The history of domestic manners, indeed, is a subject, the materials of which are exceedingly varied, widely scattered, and not easily brought together; they, of course, vary in character with the periods to which they relate, and at certain periods are much rarer than at others. But the interest of the subject must be felt by every one who appreciates art; for what avails our knowledge of costume unless we know the manners, the mode of living, the houses, the furniture, the utensils, of those whom we have learnt how to clothe? and, without this latter knowledge, history itself can be but imperfectly understood.

In England, as in most other countries of western Europe, at the period of the middle ages when we first become intimately acquainted with them, the manners and customs of their inhabitants were a mixture of those of the barbarian settlers themselves, and of those which they found among the conquered Romans; the latter prevailing to a greater or less extent, according to the peculiar circumstances of the country. This was certainly the case in England among our Saxon forefathers; and it becomes a matter of interest to ascertain what were really the types which belonged to the Saxon race, and to distinguish them from those which they derived from the Roman inhabitants of our island.

We have only one record of the manners of the Saxons before they settled in Britain, and that is neither perfect, nor altogether unaltered--it is the romance of Beowulf, a poem in pure Anglo-Saxon, which contains internal marks of having been composed before the people who spoke that language had quitted their settlements on the Continent. Yet we can hardly peruse it without suspecting that some of its portraitures are descriptive rather of what was seen in England than of what existed in the north of Germany. Thus we might almost imagine that the “street variegated with stones” (_stræt wœs stân-fáh_), along which the hero Beowulf and his followers proceeded from the shore to the royal residence of Hrothgar, was a picture of a Roman road as found in Britain.

It came into the mind of Hrothgar, we are told, that he would cause to be built a house, “a great mead-hall,” which was to be his chief palace, or metropolis. The hall-gate, we are informed, rose aloft, “high and curved with pinnacles” (_heáh and horn-geáp_). It is elsewhere described as a “lofty house;” the hall was high; it was “fast within and without, with iron bonds, forged cunningly;” it appears that there were steps to it, and the roof is described as being variegated with gold; the walls were covered with tapestry (_web æfter wagum_), which also was “variegated with gold,” and presented to the view “many a wondrous sight to every one that looketh upon such.” The walls appear to have been of wood; we are repeatedly told that the roof was carved and lofty; the floor is described as being variegated (probably a tesselated pavement); and the seats were benches arranged round it, with the exception of Hrothgars chair or throne. In the vicinity of the hall stood the chambers or bowers, in which there were beds (_bed æfter búrum_).

These few epithets and allusions, scattered through the poem, give us a tolerable notion of what the house of a Saxon chieftain must have been in the country from whence our ancestors came, as well as afterwards in that where they finally settled. The romantic story is taken up more with imaginary combats with monsters, than with domestic scenes, but it contains a few incidents of private life. The hall of king Hrothgar was visited by a monster named Grendel, who came at night to prey upon its inhabitants; and it was Beowulf’s mission to free them from this nocturnal scourge. By direction of the primeval coast-guards, he and his men proceeded by the “street” already mentioned to the hall of Hrothgar, at the entrance to which they laid aside their armour and left their weapons. Beowulf found the chief and his followers drinking their ale and mead, and made known the object of his journey. “Then,” says the poem, “there was for the sons of the Geats (Beowulf and his followers), altogether, a bench cleared in the beer-hall; there the bold of spirit, free from quarrel, went to sit; the thane observed his office, he that in his hand bare the twisted ale-cup; he poured the bright sweet liquor; meanwhile the poet sang serene in Heorot (the name of Hrothgar’s palace), there was joy of heroes.” Thus the company passed their time, listening to the bard, boasting of their exploits, and telling their stories, until Wealtheow, Hrothgar’s queen, entered and “greeted the men in the hall.” She now served the liquor, offering the cup first to her husband, and then to the rest of the guests, after which she seated herself by Hrothgar, and the festivities continued till it was time to retire to bed. Beowulf and his followers were left to sleep in the hall--“the wine-hall, the treasure-house of men, variegated with vessels” (_fættum fáhne_). Grendel came in the night, and after a dreadful combat received his death-wound from Beowulf. The noise in the hall was great; “a fearful terror fell on the North Danes, on each of those who from the walls heard the outcry.” These were the watchmen stationed on the wall forming the chieftain’s palace, that enclosed the whole mass of buildings (_of wealle_).

As far as we can judge by the description given in the poem, Hrothgar and his household in their bowers or bed-chambers had heard little of the tumult, but they went early in the morning to the hall to rejoice in Beowulf’s victory. There was great feasting again in the hall that day, and Beowulf and his followers were rewarded with rich gifts. After dinner the minstrel again took up the harp, and sang some of the favourite histories of their tribe. “The lay was sung, the song of the gleeman, the joke rose again, the noise from the benches grew loud, cup-bearers gave the wine from wondrous vessels.” Then the queen, “under a golden crown,” again served the cup to Hrothgar and Beowulf. She afterwards went as before to her seat, and “there was the costliest of feasts, the men drank wine,” until bed-time arrived a second time. While their leader appears to have been accommodated with a chamber, Beowulf’s men again occupied the hall. “They bared the bench-planks; it was spread all over with beds and bolsters; at their heads they set their war-rims, the bright shield-wood; there, on the bench, might easily be seen, above the warrior, his helmet lofty in war, the ringed mail-shirt, and the solid shield; it was their custom ever to be ready for war, both in house and in field.”

Grendel had a mother (it was the primitive form of the legend of the devil and his dam), and this second night she came unexpectedly to avenge her son, and slew one of Hrothgar’s favourite counsellors and nobles, who must therefore have also slept in the hall. Beowulf and his warriors next day went in search of this new marauder, and succeeded in destroying her, after which exploit they returned to their own home laden with rich presents.

These sketches of early manners, slight as they may be, are invaluable to us, in the absence of all other documentary record during several ages, until after the Anglo-Saxons had been converted to Christianity. During this long period we have, however, one source of invaluable information, though of a restricted kind--the barrows or graves of our primeval forefathers, which contain almost every description of article that they used when alive. In that solitary document, the poem of Beowulf, we are told of the arms which the Saxons used, of the dresses in which they were clad; of the rings, and bracelets, and ornaments, of which they were proud; of the “solid cup, the valuable drinking-vessel,” from which they quaffed the mead, or the vases from which they poured it; but we can obtain no notions of the form or character of these articles. From the graves, on the contrary, we obtain a perfect knowledge of the form and design of all these various articles, without deriving any knowledge as to the manner in which they were used. The subject now becomes a more extensive one; and in the Anglo-Saxon barrows in England, we find a mixture, in these articles, of Anglo-Saxon and Roman, which furnishes a remarkable illustration of the mixture of the races. We are all perfectly well acquainted with Roman types; and in the few examples which can be here given of articles found in early Anglo-Saxon barrows, I shall only introduce such as will enable us to judge what classes of the subsequent mediæval types were really derived from pure Saxon or Teutonic originals.

It is curious enough that the poet who composed the romance of Beowulf enumerates among the treasures in the ancient barrow, guarded by the dragon who was finally slain by his hero, “the dear, or precious drinking-cup” (_dryncfæt deóre_). Drinking-cups are frequently found in the Saxon barrows or graves in England. A group, representing the more usual forms, is given in our cut, No. 1, found chiefly in barrows in Kent, and preserved in the collections of lord Londesborough and Mr. Rolfe, the latter of which is now in the possession of Mr. Mayer, of Liverpool. The example to the left no doubt represents the “twisted” pattern, so often mentioned in Beowulf, and evidently the favourite ornament among the early Saxons. All these cups are of glass; they are so formed that it is evident they could not stand upright, so that it was necessary to empty them at a draught. This characteristic of the old drinking-cups is said to have given rise to the modern name of tumblers.

That these glass drinking-cups--or, if we like to use the term, these glasses--were implements peculiar to the Germanic race to which the Saxons belonged, and not derived from the Romans, we have corroborative evidence in discoveries made on the Continent. I will only take examples from some graves of the same early period, discovered at Selzen, in Rhenish Hesse, an interesting account of which was published at Maintz, in 1848, by the brothers W. and L. Lindenschmit. In these graves several drinking-cups were found, also of glass, and resembling in character the two middle figures in our cut, No. 1. Three specimens are given in the cut No. 2. In our cut, No. 5, (see page 8), is one of the cup-shaped glasses, also found in these Hessian graves, which closely resembles that given in the cut No. 1. None of the cups of the champagne-glass form, like those found in England, occur in these foreign barrows.

We shall find also that the pottery of the later Anglo-Saxon period presented a mixture of forms, partly derived from those which had belonged to the Saxon race in their primitive condition, and partly copied or imitated from those of the Romans. In fact, in our Anglo-Saxon graves we find much purely Roman pottery intermingled with earthen vessels of Saxon manufacture; and this is also the case in Germany. As Roman forms are known to every one, we need only give the pure Saxon types. Our cut, No. 3, represents five examples, and will give a sufficient notion of their general character. The two to the left were taken, with a large quantity more, of similar character, from a Saxon cemetery at Kingston, near Derby; the vessel in the middle, and the upper one to the right, are from Kent; and the lower one to the right is also from the cemetery at Kingston. Several of these were usually considered as types of ancient British pottery, until their real character was recently demonstrated, and it is corroborated by the discovery of similar pottery in what I will term the Germano-Saxon graves. Four examples from the cemetery at Selzen, are given in the cut No. 4. We have here not only the rude-formed vessels with lumps on the side, but also the characteristic ornament of crosses in circles. The next cut, No. 5, represents two earthen vessels of another description, found in the graves at Selzen. The one to the right is evidently the prototype of our modern pitcher. I am informed there is, in the Museum at Dover, a specimen of pottery of this shape, taken from an Anglo-Saxon barrow in that neighbourhood; and Mr. Roach Smith took fragments of another from an Anglo-Saxon tumulus near the same place. The other variation of the pitcher here given is remarkable, not on account of similar specimens having been found, as far as I know, in graves in England, but because vessels of a similar form are found rather commonly in the Anglo-Saxon illuminated manuscripts. One of these is given in the group No. 6, which represents three types of the later Anglo-Saxon pottery, selected from a large number copied by Strutt from Anglo-Saxon manuscripts. The figure to the left, in this group, is a later Saxon form of the pitcher; perhaps the singular form of the handle may have originated in an error of the draughtsman.

Among the numerous articles of all kinds found in the early Anglo-Saxon graves, are bowls of metal (generally bronze or copper), often very thickly gilt, and of elegant forms; they are, perhaps, borrowed from the Romans. Three examples are given in the cut No. 7, all found in Kent. They were probably intended for the service of the table. Another class of utensils found rather commonly in the Anglo-Saxon barrows are buckets. The first of those represented in our cut, No. 8, was found in a Saxon barrow near Marlborough, in Wiltshire; the other was found on the Chatham lines. As far as my own experience goes, I believe these buckets are usually found with male skeletons, and from this circumstance, and the fact of their being usually ornamented, I am inclined to think they served some purposes connected with the festivities of the hall; probably they were used to carry the ale or mead. The Anglo-Saxon translation of the Book of Judges (ch. vii. ver. 20), rendered _hydrias confregissent_ by _to-bræcon tha bucas_, “they broke the buckets.” A common name for this implement, which was properly _buc_, was _æscen_, which signified literally a vessel made of ash, the favourite wood of the Anglo-Saxons. Our cut, No. 9, represents a bucket of wood with very delicately-formed bronze hoops and handle, found in a barrow in Bourne Park, near Canterbury. The wood was entirely decayed; but the hoops and handle are in the collection of lord Londesborough. Such buckets have, also, been found under similar circumstances on the Continent. The close resemblance between the weapons and other instruments found in the English barrows and in those at Selzen, may be illustrated by a comparison of the two axes represented in the cut, No. 10. The upper one was found at Selzen; the lower one is in the Museum of Mr. Rolfe, and was obtained from a barrow in the Isle of Thanet. The same similarity is observed between the knives, which is the more remarkable, as the later Anglo-Saxon knives were quite of a different form. The example, cut No. 11, taken from a grave at Selzen, is the only instance I know of a knife of this early period of Saxon history with the handle preserved; it has been beautifully enamelled. This may be taken as the type of the primitive Anglo-Saxon knife.

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.

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.

It is evidently the intention in this picture to represent the walls of the rooms as being formed, in the lower part, of masonry, with timber walls above, and all the windows are in the timber walls. If we make allowance for want of perspective and proportion in the drawing, it is probable that only a small portion of the elevation was masonry, and that the wooden walls (_parietes_) were raised above it, as is very commonly the case in old timber-houses still existing. The greater portion of the Saxon houses were certainly of timber; in Alfric’s colloquy, it is the carpenter, or worker in wood (_se treo-wyrhta_), who builds houses; and the very word to express the operation of building, _timbrian_, _getimbrian_, signified literally to construct of timber. We observe in the above representation of a house, that none of the buildings have more than a ground-floor, and this seems to have been a characteristic of the houses of all classes. The Saxon word _flór_ is generally used in the early writers to represent the Latin _pavimentum_. Thus the “variegated floor” (_on fágre flór_) of the hall mentioned in Beowulf (l. 1454) was a paved floor, perhaps a tessellated pavement; as the road spoken of in an earlier part of the poem (_stræt wæs stán-fáh_, the street was stone-variegated, l. 644) describes a paved Roman road. The term upper-floor occurs once or twice, but only I think in translating from foreign Latin writers. The only instance that occurs to my memory of an upper-floor in an Anglo-Saxon house, is the story of Dunstan’s council at Calne in 978, when, according to the Saxon Chronicle, the _witan_, or council, fell from an upper-floor (_of ane úp-floran_), while Dunstan himself avoided their fate by supporting himself on a beam (_uppon anum beame_). The buildings in the above picture are all roofed with tiles of different forms, evidently copied from the older Roman roof-tiles. Perhaps the flatness of these roofs is only to be considered as a proof of the draughtsman’s ignorance of perspective. One of Alfric’s homilies applies the epithet _steep_ to a roof--_on tham sticelan hrofe_. The hall is not unfrequently described as lofty.

The collective house had various names in Anglo-Saxon. It was called _hús_, a house, a general term for all residences great or small; it was called _heal_, or hall, because that was the most important part of the building--we still call gentlemen’s seats halls; it was called _ham_, as being the residence or home of its possessor; and it was called _tún_, in regard of its inclosure.

The Anglo-Saxons chose for their country-houses a position which commanded a prospect around, because such sites afforded protection at the same time that they enabled the possessor to overlook his own landed possessions. The Ramsey Chronicle, describing the beautiful situation of the mansion at “Schitlingdonia” (Shitlington), in Bedfordshire, tells us that the surrounding country lay spread out like a panorama from the door of the hall--_ubi ab ostio aulæ tota fere villa et late patens ager arabilis oculis subjacet intuentis_.