SLOW PROGRESS OF SOCIETY IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY.--ENLARGEMENT OF
THE HOUSES.--THE HALL AND ITS FURNITURE.--ARRANGEMENT OF THE TABLE
FOR MEALS.--ABSENCE OF CLEANLINESS.--MANNERS AT TABLE.--THE PARLOUR.
The progress of society in the two countries which were most closely
allied in this respect, England and France, was slow during the
fifteenth century. Both countries were engaged either in mutual
hostility or in desolating civil wars, which so utterly checked all
spirit of improvement, that the aspect of society differed little
between the beginning and the end of the century in anything but dress.
At the close of the fourteenth century, the middle classes in England
had made great advance in wealth and in independence, and the wars of
the roses, which were so destructive to the nobility, as well as the
tendency of the crown to set the gentry up as a balance to the power of
the feudal barons, helped to make that advance more certain and rapid.
This increase of wealth appears in the multiplication of furniture and
of other household implements, especially those of a more valuable
description. We are surprised, in running our eye through the wills
and inventories during this period, at the quantity of plate which
was usually possessed by country gentlemen and respectable burghers.
There was also a great increase both in the number and magnitude of the
houses which intervened between the castle and the cottage. Instead of
having one or two bedrooms, and turning people into the hall to sleep
at night, we now find whole suits of chambers; while, where before, the
family lived chiefly in the hall, privacy was sought by the addition
of parlours, of which there were often more than one in an ordinary
sized house. The hall was in fact already beginning to diminish in
importance in comparison with the rest of the house. Whether in town
or country, houses of any magnitude were now generally built round an
interior court, into which the rooms almost invariably looked, only
small and unimportant windows looking towards the street or country.
This arrangement of course originated in the necessity of studying
security, a necessity which was never felt more than in the fifteenth
century. We have less need to seek our illustrations from manuscripts
during this period, on account of the numerous examples of buildings
which still remain in a greater or less state of perfection, but still
an illumination now and then presents us with an interesting picture
of the architectural arrangements of a dwelling-house in the fifteenth
century, which may be advantageously compared with the buildings that
still exist. One of these is represented in our cut No. 234, taken from
an illuminated copy of the French translation of Valerius Maximus (MS.
No. 6984, in the National Library at Paris). The building to the left
is probably the staircase turret of the gateway; that before us is the
mass of the household apartments. We are supposed to be standing within
the court. At the foot of the turret is the well, a very important
object within the court, where it was always placed in houses of this
description, as in the troubles of those days the household might be
obliged to shut themselves up for a day or two and depend for their
supply of water entirely on what they could get within their walls.
[Illustration: _No. 234. Court of a House of the Fifteenth Century._]
The cut here given (No. 234) is a remarkably good and perfect
representation of the exterior, looking towards the court, of the
domestic buildings. The door on the ground floor to the right is
probably, to judge by the position of the windows, the entrance to the
hall. The steps leading to the first floor are outside the wall, an
arrangement which is not uncommon in the existing examples of houses of
this period in England. We have also here the open gallery round the
chambers on the first floor, which is so frequently met with in our
houses of the fifteenth century. It is probable that within the door at
the top of the external flight of steps, as here represented, a short
staircase led up to the floor on which the chambers were situated.
Perhaps it may have been a staircase into the gallery, as the opening
round the corner to the right seems to be a door from the gallery into
the chambers.
[Illustration: _No. 235. A Knight at the Door._]
In another illumination in the same manuscript (cut No. 235), a knight
is represented knocking at the door of a house into which he seeks
admittance. The plain knocker and the ring will be recognised at once
by all who have been accustomed to examine the original doors still
remaining in so many of our old buildings, but why the person who thus
signifies his wish to enter should hold the ring with his right hand,
and the knocker with his left, is not very clear. The knocker, instead
of being plain, as in this cut, was often very ornamental. This is, of
course, the outer door of the house, and our readers will not overlook
the loophole and the small window through which the person who knocked
might be examined, and, if necessary, interrogated, before the door was
opened to him.
Let us now pass through the door on the ground floor, always open by
day, into the hall. This was still the most spacious apartment in
the house, and it was still also the public room, open to all who
were admitted within the precincts. The hall continued to be scantily
furnished. The permanent furniture consisted chiefly in benches, and in
a seat with a back to it for the superior members of the family. The
head table at least was now generally a permanent one, and there were
in general more permanent tables, or tables dormant, than formerly, but
still the greater part of the tables in the hall were made for each
meal by placing boards upon trestles. Cushions, with ornamental cloths,
called _bankers_ and _dorsers_, for placing over the benches and backs
of the seats of the better persons at the table, were now also in
general use. Tapestry was suspended on the walls of the hall on special
occasions, but it does not appear to have been of common use. Another
article of furniture had now become common--the buffet, or stand on
which the plate and other vessels were arranged. These articles appear
to have been generally in the keeping of the butler, and only to have
been brought into the hall and arranged on the buffet at meal times,
for show as much as for use. The dinner party in our cut No. 236, taken
from an illumination of a manuscript of the romance of the “Comte
d’Artois,” formerly in the possession of M. Barrois, a distinguished
and well-known collector in Paris, represents a royal party dining
at a table with much simplicity. The ornamental vessel on the table
is probably the salt-cellar, which was a very important article at
the feast. Besides the general utility of salt, it was regarded with
profoundly superstitious feelings, and it was considered desirable
that it should be the first article placed on the table. We have still
a feeling of superstition with regard to the spilling of salt. A
metrical code for the behaviour of servants, written in the fifteenth
century, directs that in preparing the table for meals, the table-cloth
was first to be spread, and then, invariably and in all places, the
salt was to be placed upon it; next were to be arranged successively,
the knives, the bread, the wine, and then the meat, after which the
waiter was to bring other things, when each was called for:--
_Tu dois mettre premierement_
_En tous lieux et en tout hostel_
_La nappe, et apres le sel;_
_Cousteaulx, pain, vin, et puis viande,_
_Puis apporter ce qu’on demande._
In our last cut (No. 236) it will be seen that the “nappe” is duly
laid, and upon it are seen the salt-cellar, the bread (round cakes),
and the cups for wine. Knives are wanting, and the plates seldom
appear on the table in these dinner scenes of the fifteenth century,
any more than in the previous period. This, no doubt, arose from the
common practice at that time, of people carrying their own knives
with them in a sheath attached to the girdle. We find, moreover, few
knives enumerated in our inventories of household goods and chattels.
In the English metrical “Stans Puer ad Mensam,” or rules for behaviour
at table, written by Lydgate, the guest is told to “bring no knyves
unskoured to the table,” which can only mean that he is to keep his own
knife that he carries with him clean. The two servants are here duly
equipped for duty, with the towel thrown over the shoulder. The table
appears to be placed on two board-shaped trestles, but the artist has
forgotten to indicate the seats. But in our next cut (No. 237), a very
private party, taken from a manuscript of the early French translation
of the Decameron (in the National Library at Paris, No. 6887), are
placed in a seat with a back to it, although the table is still
evidently a board placed upon trestles. It may be remarked that in
dinner scenes of this century, the gentlemen at table are almost always
represented with their hats on their heads.
[Illustration: _No. 236. A Dinner Scene at Court._]
[Illustration: _No. 237. A Private Dinner._]
As we have already hinted, the inventories of this period give
us curious information on the furniture of houses of different
descriptions. We learn from one of these, made in 1446, that there
were at that time belonging to the hall of the priory of Durham, one
dorsal or dorser, embroidered with the birds of St. Cuthbert and the
arms of the church, five pieces of red cloth (three embroidered and two
plain), no doubt for the same purpose of throwing over the seats; six
cushions; three basins of brass; and three washing-basins. A gentleman
at Northallerton, in Yorkshire, who made his will in 1444, had in
his hall, thirteen jugs or pots of brass, four basins, and two ewers
(of course, for washing the hands), three candlesticks, five (metal)
dishes, three kettles, nine vessels of lead and pewter, “utensils of
iron belonging to the hall,” valued at two shillings--probably the
fire-irons, one dorser and one banker. An inventory of a gentleman’s
goods in the year 1463, apparently in the southern part of England
(printed in the “New Retrospective Review”), gives, as the contents of
the hall,--a standing spear, a hanging of stained work, a mappa-mundi
(a map of the world) of parchment--a curious article for the hall, a
side-table, one “dormond” table (a permanent table), a beam with six
candlesticks.
A vocabulary of the fifteenth century (“Volume of Vocabularies,” p.
197) enumerates, as the ordinary furniture of the hall, a board, a
trestle, a banker, a dorser, a natte (table-cloth), a table dormant, a
basin, a laver, fire on a hearth, a brand or torch, a yule-block, an
andiron, tongs, a pair of bellows, wood for the fire, a long settle,
a chair, a bench, a stool, a cushion, and a screen. The permanent
or dormant table, is shown in the scene given in our cut No. 238,
taken from the beautifully illuminated manuscript of the “Roman de
la Violette,” at Paris, some facsimiles from which were privately
distributed by the comte de Bastard, from whom I had the honour of
receiving a copy. We have here also the seat with its back, and the
buffet with its jugs and dishes. In our cut No. 236, we had the waits
or trumpeters, who were always attached to the halls of great people to
announce the commencement of the dinner. Only persons of a certain rank
were allowed this piece of ostentation; but everybody had minstrelsy
to dinner who could obtain it, and when it was at hand. The wandering
minstrel was welcome in every hall, and for this very reason the class
of ambulatory musicians was very numerous. In the scene given in this
cut (No. 238), the wandering minstrel, or, according to the story, a
nobleman in that disguise, has just arrived, and he is allowed, without
ceremony or suspicion, to seat himself at the fire, apparently on a
stool, beside the two individuals at dinner.
[Illustration: _No. 238. Reception of the Minstrel._]
The floor of the hall was usually paved with tiles, or with flag
stones, and very little care appears to have been shown to cleanliness,
as far as it was concerned, except that it was usual to strew it with
rushes. Among the various French metrical “Contenances de Table,” or
directions for behaviour at table, of the fifteenth century, the person
instructed is told that he must not _spit upon the table_ at dinner
time--
_Ne craiche par dessus la table,_
_Car c’est chose desconvenable_,
which is necessarily an intimation that he must spit upon the floor.
In another of these pieces he is told that when he washes his mouth at
table, he must not reject the water into the basin--
_Quant ta bouche tu laveras,_
_Ou bacin point ne cracheras._
The reason for this rule was evidently the circumstance that one basin
might serve for all the company; but the alternative again was of
course to spit the water out upon the floor. Again, in one of these
codes, the learner is told that when he makes sops in his wine, he must
either drink all the wine in the glass, or throw what remains on the
floor:--
_Enfant, se tu faiz en ton verre_
_Souppes de vin aucunement,_
_Boy tout le vin entierement,_
_Ou autrement le gecte à terre._
Or, as it is expressed in another similar code more briefly--
_Se tu fais souppes en ton verre,_
_Boy le vin ou le gette à terre._
There can be no doubt that all this must have made an extremely dirty
floor. Another rather _naïve_ direction shows that no more attention
was paid to the cleanliness of the benches and seats; it is considered
necessary to tell the scholar always to look at his seat before he sits
down at table, to a assure himself that there is nothing dirty upon
it!--
_Enfant, prens de regarder peine_
_Sur le siege où tu te sierras,_
_Se aucune chose y verras_
_Qui soit deshonneste ou vilaine._
The fireplace at the side of the hall, with hearth and chimney, were
now in general use. An example is given in our last cut; another will
be seen in our cut No. 239, and here, though evidently in the hall, and
a monastic hall too, the process of cooking is pursued at it. The monks
appear to be taking a joyous repast, not quite in keeping with the
strict rule of their order, and the way in which they are conducting
themselves towards the women who have been introduced into the
monastery does not speak in favour of monastic continence. This picture
is from a manuscript bible, of the fifteenth century, in the National
Library at Paris (No. 6829).
Manners at table appear to have been losing some of the strictness and
stiffness of their ceremonial, while they retained their rudeness.
The bowl of water was carried round to the guests, and each washed
his hands before dinner, but the washing after dinner appears now to
have been commonly omitted. In one of the directions for table already
quoted, the scholar is told that he must wash himself when he rises
from bed in the morning, once at dinner, and once at supper, in all
thrice a day:--
_Enfant, d’honneur lave tes mains_
_A ton lever, à ton disner,_
_Et puis au soupper, sans finer;_
_Ce sont trois foys à tout le moins._
And again, in another similar code,--
_Lave tes mains devant disner,_
_Et aussi quant vouldras soupper._
[Illustration: _No. 239. A Monastic Feast._]
Still people put their victuals to their mouth with their fingers,
for, though forks were certainly known in the previous century, they
were not used for conveying the food to the mouth. It was considered,
nevertheless, bad manners to carry the victuals to the mouth with the
knife--
_Ne faiz pas ton morsel conduire_
_A ton coustel qui te peult nuire._
Another practice strictly forbidden in these rules was picking your
teeth with your knife while at table. From the use thus made of the
hand, in the absence of forks, it may be supposed that we should have
directions for keeping it clean during the process of eating. One of
these appears droll enough to us at the present day. It is directed
that a person sitting at table in company is not to blow his nose with
the hand with which he takes his meat. Handkerchiefs were not yet in
use, and the alternative of course was that, if any one felt the need
of performing the operation in question, he was to lay down his knife,
and to do it with the hand which held it. In one of the French codes
this direction is given rather covertly, as follows:--
_Ne touche ton nez à main nue_
_Dont ta viande est tenue._
But in another it is enunciated more crudely, thus:--
_Enfant, se ton nez est morveux,_
_Ne le torche de la main nue_
_De quoy ta viande est tenue;_
_Le fait est vilain et honteux._
All these circumstances show a state of manners which was very far from
refined.
Among other directions for table, you are told not to leave your spoon
in your platter; not to return back to your plate the food you have
put in your mouth; not to dip your meat in the salt-cellar to salt it,
but to take a little salt on your knife and put it on the meat; not to
drink from a cup with a dirty mouth; not to offer to another person
the remains of your pottage; not to eat much cheese; to take only two
or three nuts, when they are placed before you; not to play with your
knife; not to roll your napkin into a cord, or tie it in knots; and not
to get intoxicated during dinner-time!
Our next cut (No. 240) represents one of the backed seats, after a
pattern of this century. It is taken from a manuscript of the romance
of Launcelot du Lac, in the National Library at Paris (No. 594).
It is probable that this seat belonged to the parlour, or, as the
name signifies, conversation room. The custom still continued of
making seats with divisions, so that each person sat in a separate
compartment. A triple seat of this kind is represented in our cut No.
241, taken from a manuscript of the French Boccaccio in the National
Library at Paris.
[Illustration: _No. 240. A Domestic Scene._]
[Illustration: _No. 241. A Triple Seat._]
The parlour seems to have been ornamented with more care, and to have
been better furnished than the hall. This apartment appears to have
been placed sometimes on the ground floor, and sometimes on the floor
above, and large houses had usually two or three parlours. It had often
windows in recesses, with fixed seats on each side; and the fireplace
was smaller and more comfortable than that of the hall. As carpets
came into more general use, the parlour was one of the first rooms to
receive this luxury. In the inventory I have already quoted from the
“New Retrospective Review,” the following articles of furniture are
described as being in the parlour--
_A hanging of worsted, red and green._
_A cupboard of ash-boards._
_A table, and a pair of trestles._
_A branch of latten, with four lights._
_A pair of andirons._
_A pair of tongs._
_A form to sit upon._
_And a chair._
This will give us a very good idea of what was the usual furniture of
the parlour in the fifteenth century. The only movable seats are a
single bench, and one chair--perhaps a seat with a back like that shown
above. The table was even here formed by laying a board upon trestles.
The cupboard was peculiar to this part of the house; many of my readers
will probably remember the parlour cupboards in our old country houses,
the branched candlestick of metal, suspended from the ceiling, and the
tongs and andirons for the fire.
The principal articles of furniture in the parlour are all exhibited
in illuminations in manuscripts of the same period. The “hanging of
worsted” was, of course, a piece of tapestry for the wall, or for some
part of the wall, for the room was in many, perhaps in most, cases,
only partially covered. Sometimes, indeed, it appears only to have
been hung up on occasions, perhaps for company, when it seems to have
been placed behind the chief seat.[50] The wall itself was frequently
adorned with paintings, in common houses rude and merely ornamental,
while in others of a better class they represented histories, scenes
from romances, and religious subjects, much like those exhibited on
the tapestries themselves. In the cut annexed (No. 242), taken from a
beautifully illuminated manuscript of the romance of “Lancelot,” in
the National Library at Paris, No. 6784, we have a representation of a
parlour with wall paintings of this kind. Morgan le Fay is showing king
Arthur the adventures of Lancelot, which she had caused to be painted
in a room in her palace. Paintings of this kind are very often alluded
to in the old writers, especially in the poets, as every one knows
who has read the “Romance of the Rose,” the works of Chaucer, or that
singular and curious poem, the “Pastyme of Pleasure,” by Stephen Hawes.
Chaucer, in his “Dream,” speaks of--
_A chamber paint_
_Full of stories old and divers,_
_More than I can as now reherse._
[Illustration: _No. 242. Morgan le Fay showing king Arthur the
Paintings of the Adventures of Lancelot._]
There was in the castle of Dover an apartment called Arthur’s Hall,
and another named Guenevra’s Chamber, which have been supposed to be
so called from the subjects of the paintings with which they were
decorated; and a still more curious illustration of the foregoing
drawing is furnished by an old house of this period still existing
in New Street, Salisbury, a room in which preserves its painting in
distemper, occupying the upper part of the wall, like the story of
Lancelot in the pictures of the room of Morgan le Fay. We give a sketch
of the side of this room occupied by the painting in the accompanying
cut (No. 243). It occupies the space above the fireplace, and the
windows looking into the street, but it has been much damaged by modern
alterations in the house. The subject, as will at once be seen, was of
a sacred character--the offering of the three kings.
[Illustration: _No. 243. Wall-Paintings still remaining in a House at
Salisbury._]
The window to the left of the fireplace, which is one of the original
windows of this house, has a deep sill, or seat, which was intended as
one of the accommodations for sitting down. This was not unfrequently
made with a recess in the middle, so as to form a seat on each side,
on which two persons might sit face to face, and which was thus more
convenient both for conversation, and for looking through the window
at what was going on without. This appears to have been a favourite
seat with the female part of the household when employed in needlework
and other sedentary occupations. There is an allusion to this use of
the window sill in the curious old poem of the “Lady Bessy,” which is
probably somewhat obscured by the alterations of the modern copyist;
when the young princess kneels before her father, he takes her up and
seats her in the window:--
_I came before my father the king,_
_And kneeled down upon my knee;_
_I desired him lowly of his blessing,_
_And full soon he gave it unto me._
_And in his arms he could me thring,_
_And set me in a window so high._
The words of our inventory, “a form to sit upon, and a chair,” describe
well the scanty furnishing of the rooms of a house at this period. The
cause of this poverty in movables, which arose more from the general
insecurity of property than the inability to procure it, is curiously
illustrated by a passage from a letter of Margaret Paston to her
husband, written early in the reign of Edward IV. “Also,” says the lady
to her spouse, “if ye be at home this Christmas, it were well done ye
should do purvey a garnish or twain of pewter vessel, two basins and
two ewers, and twelve candlesticks, for ye have too few of any of these
to serve this place; I am afraid to purvey much stuff in this place,
till we be surer thereof.” As yet, a form or bench continued to be the
usual seat, which could be occupied by several persons at once. One
chair, as in the inventory just mentioned, was considered enough for
a room, and was no doubt preserved for the person of most dignity,
perhaps for the lady of the household. Towards the latter end of this
period, however, chairs, made in a simpler form, and stools, the latter
very commonly three-legged, became more abundant. Yet in a will dated
so late as 1522 (printed in the “Bury Wills” of the Camden Society),
an inhabitant of Bury in Suffolk, who seems to have possessed a large
house and a considerable quantity of household furniture for the
time, had, of tables and chairs, only “a tabyll of waynskott with to
(_two_) joynyd trestelles, ij. joynyd stolys of the best, a gret joynyd
cheyre at the deyse in the halle--the grettest close cheyre, ij. fote
stoles--a rounde tabyll of waynskott with lok and key, the secunde
joynyd cheyer, ij. joynyd stolys.” The ordinary forms of chairs and
stools at the latter end of the fifteenth century are shown in our
cut No. 244, taken from a very curious sculpture in alto-relievo on
one of the columns of the Hôtel-de-Ville at Brussels. At this time we
begin to find examples of chairs ingeniously constructed, for folding
up or taking to pieces, so as to be easily laid aside or carried away.
Some of these resemble exactly our modern camp-stools. A curious
bedroom chair of this construction is represented in our cut No. 245,
taken from a fine illuminated manuscript of the romance of the “Comte
d’Artois,” of the fifteenth century, in the collection of M. Barrois
of Paris, but now, I believe, in the library of lord Ashburnham. The
construction of this chair is too evident to need explanation. It
explains the phrase, used in some of our old writers, of unfolding a
chair.
[Illustration: _No. 244. Sculpture from the Hôtel-de-Ville, Brussels._]
[Illustration: _No. 245. A Bedroom Chair._]
[Illustration: _No. 246. A Chandelier._]
At this time much greater use appears to have been made of candles
than formerly, and they seem to have been constructed of different
substances and qualities. Candlesticks, made usually of the mixed metal
called laton or latten (an alloy of brass), were found in all houses;
they appear to have been still mostly made with a spike on which the
candle was stuck, and sometimes they were ornamented, and furnished
with mottoes. John Baret, who made his will at Bury, in 1463, possessed
a “candylstykke of laten with a pyke,” two “lowe candylstikkez of a
sorth,” (_i.e._ to match), and three “candylstykkes of laton whereupon
is wretyn _grace me governe_.” A testament dated in 1493 enumerates
“a lowe candilstyke of laton, oon of my candelstykes, and ij. high
candilstykes of laton.” In the will of Agas Herte of Bury, in 1522,
“ij. belle canstykes and a lesser canstyke,” occurs twice, so that they
seem to have formed two sets, and there is a third mention of “ij. bell
canstykes.” We also find mention at this time of double candlesticks,
which were probably intended to be placed in an elevated position to
give light to the whole apartment. Our inventory of the contents of the
parlour contains “a branch of latten, with four lights,” which was no
doubt intended for this purpose of lighting the whole room (a sort of
chandelier), and appears to have been identical with the candlebeam,
not unfrequently mentioned in the old inventories. A widow of Bury,
named Agnes Ridges, who made her will in 1492, mentions “my candylbeme
that hangyth in my hall with vj. bellys of laton standyng thereon,”
_i.e._ six cups in which the candles were placed. Our cut No. 246
represents a candlebeam with four lights. It is slung round a simple
pulley in the ceiling, by a string which was fixed to the ground. It
is taken from a manuscript of the “Traité des Tournois” (treatise of
tournaments), by king René, in the National Library at Paris, No.
8352; and as the scene is represented as taking place in a princely
hall, which is fitted up for a festive entertainment, we may take it
as a curious proof of the rudeness which was still mixed up with the
magnificence of the fifteenth century. In a fine illumination in a
manuscript of Froissart in the British Museum (MS. Reg. 18 E. 2),
representing the fatal masque at the court of Charles VI. of France,
in 1393, in which several of the courtiers were burnt to death, we
have, in the king’s palace, a chandelier exactly like that in our last
cut, except that each candlestick on the beam contains two candles--a
“double candlestick.” This manuscript is of the latter part of the
fifteenth century. It had been the custom, on festive occasions, or in
ceremonies where large apartments required to be lighted, to do this by
means of torches which servants held in their hands. This custom was
very common, and is frequently spoken of or alluded to in the mediæval
writers. Nevertheless, the inconvenience and even danger attending it,
led to various plans for superseding it. One of these was, to fix up
against the walls of the room frames for holding the torches, of which
an example is given in the accompanying cut (No. 247), representing
a torch-frame, still preserved in the Palazzo Strozzi at Florence.
One of the group, it will be observed, has a long spike, intended to
hold a large candle. Candlesticks fixed to the wall in various manners
are seen in manuscripts of the fifteenth century; and an example is
given in our cut No. 248, taken from a part of the same illumination
of Froissart mentioned before. The candle is here placed before a
little image, on the upper part of the fireplace, but whether this was
for a religious purpose or not, is not clear. In this cut, the three
princesses are seated on the large chair or settle, which is turned
with its back to the fire. This important article of furniture is now
found in the parlour as well as in the hall.
[Illustration: _No. 247. Candle and Torch-holders._]
[Illustration: _No. 248.--Ladies Seated._]