Inspirational homes (2) by Carolyn Hughes

“Inspirational homes” might suggest a strapline blazoned across the front of a glossy décor magazine. But the sort of inspiration I’m talking about here is where real-life ancient buildings “inspire” me in my descriptions of the homes of the characters in my novels, which are set in 14th century southern England.

Last month, I discussed two buildings, found at the Weald and Downland Open Air Museum in West Sussex, that are my inspiration for the homes of rural peasants. Today, I am going to discuss two houses of somewhat higher standing: one the home of a well-to-do farming family and the other that of a wealthy Southampton merchant.

Both of these wealthier homes have two storeys, with a main “hall” downstairs and a “solar”, a private area for the family, upstairs. Both have additional rooms and, by comparison with the cottages, are really very spacious. Yet such homes would still be draughty and cold underfoot, the hearth might still be in the middle of the floor (though chimneys were beginning to be installed in wealthier homes), and the windows might still be pretty small and were almost certainly unglazed.

The Bayleaf Farmstead, again at the Weald and Downland Museum, is a reconstruction of an early 15th century hall-house, and is typical of “Wealden” houses, common in the Weald of Kent and East Sussex, which were mostly built by prosperous yeoman farmers or well-off craftsmen and tradesmen in towns.

Keith Edkins / Bayleaf wealden house / CC BY-SA 2.0

Bayleaf comes from Chiddingstone, about 10 miles (16 km) north-west of Tunbridge Wells in Kent. The house is timber-framed with a tiled roof, and is constructed with four bays, two of which form the central hall, full height to the rafters. The outer bays are both two-storey, and the upper rooms have “jetties” to the front of the house. To one side of the central hall is what is referred to as the “parlour”, with a solar upstairs. On the other side of the hall are ground floor service rooms, with a large chamber on the first floor.

The main door of the house opens into a cross passage, which separates the central hall from the service rooms, and has a door at its other end leading to the rear of the house.

The central hall is significantly bigger than the two peasants’ cottages I described last month. It is open to the rafters, and has a rather grand double-height – but unglazed – window, with hinged and folding internal shutters, that provides good light for the dining table. Overall the effect is impressive. Nonetheless, this hall does still have a central hearth, shown as a rectangle of bricks more or less in the middle of the floor. Because, I suppose, the room is bigger than the halls in the peasant cottages, the smoke from the fire – which was burning nicely when I visited – did not seem quite so unpleasant. The smoke was rising upwards (rather than billowing), escaping perhaps through the small gabled opening in the roof ridge, although, as I have read elsewhere, it is possible that much of the smoke simply finds its way out through gaps between the roof tiles.

While this central hall is still the main living area, there are other “living rooms” (in contrast to the peasant cottages): the parlour to one side of the hall and the solar above it. The family was not obliged to spend their whole lives in this one room, grand as it is. It would certainly be the dining room, and where the family would receive guests, and where everyday domestic tasks might be carried out. But sleeping would be done elsewhere – probably upstairs – and perhaps family members could escape from each other occasionally to the parlour.

It is thought that initially some cooking may have taken place on the fire in the hall but, by the 16th century, the kitchen, used for brewing and baking as well as cooking meals, would have been in a separate building, for safety’s sake.

The furniture and furnishing in Bayleaf’s hall reflects the relative wealth of the occupants. The wide trestle table is laid with a cloth, the bench and stools are well made. There is a decorated cupboard, with pewter ware displayed, and a solid storage chest. Curtains hang on the walls behind the table, presumably for decoration but also to combat draughts.

On the other side of the cross passage, doors lead into the service rooms: the buttery, used mainly for storing vessels and utensils, and the pantry, used for storing food. A stairway at the back leads up to the chamber above, its original use being unknown, but perhaps used as a bedchamber for servants and/or the older children of the family.

At the other side of the hall, an opening by the high table – closed with a curtain rather than a wooden door – leads to the “parlour”. The downstairs room may have been used for sleeping, storage and work, such as spinning for the lady of the house and accounts for the master. The room upstairs, the “solar”, was probably where the family slept, that is, the master, his wife and their younger children. Older children might have slept in the parlour or perhaps in the service chamber at the other side of the house.

Interestingly, the upstairs solar is shown with its own privy. The museum says that the reconstruction of this privy is conjectural, but it is not unlikely. A small jetty at the back of the room indicates where the privy might have been. Typically, the latrine emptied onto the midden heap or into an open cesspit or a covered conduit. Sometimes such privies were installed in a room referred to as a “garderobe”, essentially a wardrobe, on the principle that the odour of urine kept pests away from valuable clothing. This doesn’t seem to be the case here. However, if the reconstruction is anything to go by, this privy was exceedingly draughty, but perhaps preferable to finding your way outdoors to the privy in the garden!

   

Oast House Archive / Jettied Toilet of Bayleaf House / CC BY-SA 2.0

Oast House Archive / Toilet of Bayleaf House / CC BY-SA 2.0

The furniture in the parlour and solar reflects the rooms’ most likely use, with beds and storage chests. The “best” bed in the solar chamber is a wonderful robust four-poster, with a ceiling (a “tester”) and curtains for privacy and to keep out draughts. The bed in the parlour is of a simpler design without the posts or hangings. The principal bed is shown with a truckle, a bed on wheels that slides underneath the larger bed, often used by the younger children.

Bayleaf is a beautiful house. I often have it in my mind when I’m thinking about the homes of the more well-to-do in my novels.

I also love the late 13th century Mediaeval Merchant’s House in French Street, Southampton, managed by English Heritage. The shape and style of this house sometimes merges with that of Bayleaf in my head when I’m thinking about the homes of my wealthier characters, although this merchant’s house is clearly more of a town house than Bayleaf.

Medieval Merchant's House, Southampton
By Geni - Photo by user:geni, CC BY-SA 4.0

The house was built in about 1290 by John Fortin, a prosperous merchant, and has survived largely intact. The main walls of the house were built of limestone but the overhanging bay at the front of the house is timber-framed. The roof is of Cornish slate.

This house does have some similarities with Bayleaf: it is spacious, has private family rooms and its furniture is well-made and relatively elaborate. But this house also acted as business premises for the owner, for it has a shop at the front and a room at the back that was probably used as an office, as well as an undercroft beneath the house for the storage of the merchant’s goods: barrels of wine! A wooden sign in the shape of a wine barrel hangs from the projecting upper chamber, alerting potential customers to the goods on offer here.

The front door beside the shop front leads into a narrow passage, with a door off it into the shop, and a door ahead leading into the private accommodation. The shop has unglazed windows but also shutters which can be let down to form a shop counter to the street. The shop itself is kitted out as a wine store, but I think that customers probably did not enter the shop, making their purchases from the counter.

Beyond the inner passage door, the passage leads on to an opening to the central hall, which, as with all the other houses, was the main living room, where the family ate and entertained, and carried out their everyday tasks. As with all the houses, the room is open to the rafters. It has relatively large windows, unglazed but protected by shutters. It has a 14th century chimney, although when the house was first built it would have had a central hearth. But wall fireplaces were becoming more common by the mid-14th century, perhaps particularly in towns. Relatively spacious as this room is, one cannot help but wonder at the inconvenience of having a fire in the middle of the floor, especially for the mistress of the house, as she swept past it with her long skirts, never mind the unpleasantness of the smoke! The arrival of chimneys must have seemed a wonderful innovation.

Medieval Merchant's House - HallBy Hchc2009 - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0

The passage continues on to a private room, probably used by the merchant as his office, which also has a fireplace. It is thought that a door led from this room to an external latrine.

The furniture in the hall consists of a long trestle table, a grand, painted throne-like chair for the master of the house, and a bench for his family. There is an elaborately carved and, surprisingly perhaps, brightly painted, cupboard, together with a couple of storage chests, hangings on the walls and an array of jugs and utensils on display. In the “office” is another table with stools, and yet another decorated cupboard and a chest.

Medieval Merchant's House - "Office"By Hchc2009 - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0

Rising from the central hall, a substantial staircase takes you upstairs to the solar, where there are two chambers, located either side of the open hall and connected by a gallery that overlooks the hall below. The room at the back of the house is probably the bedchamber for the family, the one at the front for guests and perhaps also used as a day room by the women of the family, where the light from the relatively large window would be good for spinning or sewing.

The back bedchamber is furnished as a place for the whole family to sleep. The beds have testers and curtains, like the principal bed in Bayleaf, there is a very sturdy rocking cradle, a stool and elaborately carved and painted storage chests. There might have been a door leading to the external latrine tower.

Medieval Merchant's House - BedchamberBy Hchc2009 - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0

So Bayleaf and the merchant’s house in Southampton represent the homes of comparatively wealthy mediaeval people. They afforded a little more privacy for their occupants than the peasant cottages, although children still slept with their parents, or perhaps with servants, so privacy remained limited. These two houses are also much lighter than the peasant cottages, with their larger windows, but the windows were still unglazed and therefore draughty until the shutters were closed, plunging the rooms into gloom. Heating in the merchant’s house, with two fireplaces downstairs, would no doubt have seemed a great improvement over the smoky central hearth of Bayleaf. But there was no heating in any of the upstairs rooms and I assume that all the downstairs rooms would have had floors of beaten earth so I am sure these houses must have been pretty chilly for all their relative sophistication. 

Nonetheless, they surely represented luxury compared to the peasant cottages we saw last month. Next month, I will look at one house that represents the homes of the gentry – a manor house, if a fairly grand one. True luxury, perhaps?

Inspirational homes (1) by Carolyn Hughes

“Inspirational homes” might put you in mind of a strapline blazoned across the front of a glossy interior décor magazine, but that’s not the sort of inspiration I’m going to talk about. In this post, and my next two, I thought I’d reveal a little about the real-life buildings that “inspire” me as I write about the homes in which my characters spend their lives.

In my novels, set in 14th century southern England, my characters are peasants, artisans of various sorts, and the gentry. The peasants might be poor or wealthy, and free or unfree, so some are on the lowest rung of village society, whereas others, even if they owe service to their lord, are well off enough to be the equivalent of a middle class.

Depending on their station in life, these people would have lived in:

• One-roomed cottages, barely better than hovels, in which every part of life for a family was spent in the same space;
• Bigger two- or three-roomed cottages, perhaps with a platform for sleeping and possibly small storage spaces;
• Houses with two storeys, a hall downstairs, and a solar upstairs for sleeping accessed by a narrow staircase;
• Large manor houses with several rooms, but still centred on a main great hall, and with a solar perhaps divided into chambers. Some manor houses might be fortified. 

Above and beyond the manor houses there were of course great castles, but I have none of those kind of aristocratic folk in my novels, so I need no castles to inspire me!

To get some idea of what 14th century homes might look – and indeed feel – like, I am very fortunate to have quite close by, in West Sussex, the Weald and Downland Open Air Museum, a living museum, whose mission is to rescue and conserve historic buildings from across the south of England. Buildings are saved from being demolished, or from simply falling down, by being carefully dismantled and rebuilt on the museum’s site. The museum has more than fifty buildings, spanning nine centuries. Most are open for you to go inside, so that you can get a real feel for what it was like to live and work in them. The museum is a wonderful resource.

As also is English Heritage, which manages over 400 historic monuments, buildings and other places of historical interest, including both some modest homes and wonderful castles.

The buildings I am going to discuss in these posts can be visited either at the Weald and Downland Museum or at an English Heritage site.

Today I am going to discuss the homes at the bottom end of the scale, peasants’ cottages. Because they were the homes of the poor, and were often built of materials that were given to decay – timber, wattle and daub, thatch – few such buildings survive to the present day. Of course some houses with origins in the Middle Ages are still standing, but they were likely to have been constructed of stone, and presumably will have been maintained and refurbished over the centuries to keep them structurally sound.

Two of the five mediaeval houses re-erected at the Weald and Downland Museum are the 13th century cottage from Hangleton in Sussex and a house from Boarhunt in Hampshire that dates from the 14th century. These are both small peasant houses.

Some peasant houses might have been designed to accommodate animals in one end of the building, but that is not the case with either of these. It must be presumed that animals would have been kept in a separate byre or barn.

The two-room cottage from Hangleton is a flint cottage reconstructed using archaeological evidence from excavation of the mediaeval village. The cottage was probably built in the 13th century and abandoned in the 14th. Hangleton itself, which is about 4 miles (6.5 km) north-west of Brighton, seems to have been already in decline by the middle of the 14th century as a result of the climatic and economic upheavals of the early part of the century. The arrival of what we call the Black Death in 1348-1350 might have been the last straw.

Oast House Archive/Mediaeval Cottage at Weald & Downland Museum,
Singleton, West Sussex/CC BY-SA 2.0

Although this is an entirely flint-built cottage, other cottages from the area were built with a framework of wooden posts, and the spaces between filled with wattle and daub, though later this was replaced with flint. The walls of this cottage are about three or four feet (one to one and a half metres) high. Above the eaves is the timber framework of the roof, which is covered in thick straw thatch, although apparently the roof could have been wooden shingles or turf, some other type of thatch, or possibly even clay tiles.

The cottage has two rooms. The main room is where the family – on average five people – would have lived their entire lives: cooking their food, eating it, sleeping and carrying out all the essential tasks of everyday life. It must have been very cramped! I don’t have the exact dimensions, but I don’t think it can be much more than 15 feet (3 metres) square.

The second room has an oven, which is not usual for an ordinary cottage at a time when villagers were expected to have their bread baked in the lord’s oven, but perhaps the occupier of this house was a baker...

Most of the homes at this time (even relatively wealthy ones) would have had a hearth in the middle of the floor of the main (or only) room, and this is true of the main room here. A circular stone hearth has been laid on the floor, not quite in the middle but somewhat to one side. The room is open to the rafters, and the smoke from the fire would have risen and found its way out through the thatch. Most people assume that there would have been a hole of some sort in the roof’s ridge through which the smoke escaped, but I have read that the gaps in the thatch would have provided sufficient egress. It is also said that the smoke was good for keeping the thatch insect free, though I daresay creepy-crawlies were pretty abundant in mediaeval cottages.

The museum has dressed the room with a couple of small tables, a bench and a few stools, a fairly strong-looking chest, perhaps for storing linen, clothes and any valuables, and an array of baskets, tubs and cooking and eating utensils. Tools and other items are shown hanging from the rafters, or stored on the top of the wall, but there is clearly little space for much in the way of furniture or possessions. No bed is shown here, so we must assume that the family would lay down their pallets when they were ready for bed, at a suitable distance from the open hearth.

There is just one small window and, of course, it is not glazed. It has vertical struts offering a measure of security, and a sort of blind – oiled cloth perhaps – has been installed to keep out the weather. I suppose that a shutter might have been added for greater protection, but one isn’t shown here. It must have been very dark indoors, even with the blind open, and exceedingly gloomy with it closed. Given that these poor folk’s only source of light after sundown was the fire and smelly tallow candles or feeble rushlights, one presumes that, as soon as evening came there was no point trying do anything other than rolling out their straw pallets and seeking sleep!

I have spent a day (well, more like a few hours) in this little cottage, dressed in medieval clothes, learning how to spin, crouching round that central hearth, making soup (“sowpys dorry”) and cheese pottage. I discovered how very hot and smoky it was inside, and thought that maybe I wouldn’t have much enjoyed being a 14th century peasant...

The author, enjoying being "mediaeval" for the day

The “hall house” from Boarhunt, 7 miles (11 km) north of Portsmouth, in Hampshire, dates from the late 14th century (1355–1390). It is a bit larger than the Hangleton cottage, having three bays, and is built with a cruck frame over the middle of the central hall. In the museum’s view, this building was particularly well constructed for its size.

Keith Edkins / Boarhunt Hall / CC BY-SA 2.0

The central bay is the main living room – the “hall” – again with the hearth in the middle of the floor. The hearth is shown as a rectangle, taking up a surprisingly large portion of the space available. The roof timbers in this central hall show the blackening effects of smoke from the open fire. Although this is a somewhat larger house than Hangleton, the main living area is still quite small, say 20 feet (just over 6 metres) square. The furniture used to dress the hall is much the same as for Hangleton, and again there is no sign of a bed.

It is thought that the bay to the right of the main entrance was probably a service or storage room, while the third room accessed by a door to the left of the hall is thought to be a “solar”, a private room. This inner room has no windows, so perhaps it was simply used for sleeping. It was also completely sealed off from the smoke-filled hall, whereas the service room was only separated from the hall by a screen below cross-beam level.

I have spent time in both these buildings so, when I am writing about peasant cottages in my novels, I can recall what it felt like to be inside them and I try to replicate that feeling in my descriptions of domestic life. Some of my peasant characters do live in one- or two-room cottages, while others' houses might be a little larger. I have seen it conjectured that some people might have constructed sleeping platforms under the rafters and, liking that idea, I have given one or two of my families that arrangement. It would seem to me to be a safer place to sleep than clustered around the hearth, though it would presumably be quite unpleasantly smoky up there!

I think it would be true to say that, for mediaeval peasants, their homes would mostly be cramped from lack of space, dark from a lack of windows, smoky from the central hearth and, in bad weather, cold, draughty and damp. But I suppose that, if you know no different, you would accept that level of discomfort as simply normal, and be grateful that at least you had a place of your own in which to eat and sleep and spend time with your family.

Next time, I will discuss homes of a somewhat higher standing: one belonging to a wealthy farmer and another built by a Souhampton wine merchant.

IN HIS OWN WORDS - DIARIST THOMAS TURNER, by Jane Borodale

It was hard trying to decide who, out of all the millions, might be my favourite person from the past – because apart from other considerations there is always the unbridgeable gap between who they actually were and what we have left of them. Diaries being possibly the nearest we can get to interior thoughts from the past – in the end I was torn between shopkeeper and diarist Thomas Turner, and Dorothy Wordsworth (intelligent, intriguing, influential sibling of William) – and (apologies, sisterhood) Turner won through on this occasion because I was more in the mood to be with him in Sussex.

In many ways Thomas Turner (1729-93) is the quintessential Mr Ordinary, Everyman, the man in the street. Literate, and having a pivotal role in the life of the village of East Hoathly in Sussex, he was at once shopkeeper, grocer, mercer, undertaker, tax-gatherer, writer of wills and accounts, overseer of the poor, churchwarden and more. But the remarkable or notable thing about him (in terms of posterity) is the diary itself. Two hundred and fifty years have passed since he began writing it, yet his character still jumps off every page; vibrant, busy, flawed, self-chastising, hypocritical, keenly-reading, drunken, generous, unhappily married.

The first surviving entry is soon after his marriage to Peggy Slater in 1754, when he was 24 years old, and the diary continues for the next 11 years, including the death of his wife and only child. The narrative finally breaks off just after the beginning of his second marriage, though he lived for another 28 years, fathering 7 children, and was buried in the churchyard at East Hoathly. The original manuscript is now held in the Sterling Memorial Library at Yale University, but a third of it is readily available to all in an edition published by OUP and edited by David Vaisey - and what an extraordinary, detailed record of vernacular 18th century life it is. It was a fantastic resource for me while I was writing my first novel The Book of Fires, because he lived very close to the childhood home of my central protagonist Agnes. There is nothing so vivid as reading pages of actual living set down by actual people from the period you are spending your days and nights dreaming about.

It’s far too difficult to sum up Thomas Turner in a nutshell so – enough of my version of him – he can speak for himself:

“Sat. 17 July [1756].  In the morn after breakfast went down to Mr. French’s to get him to bring me from Lewes half oz. cauliflower seed, and when I came there, I found Mr. French, his servants, and Tho. Fuller a-catching of rats; so I stayed and assisted them about 3 hours, and we caught near 20.

Sun. 18 July … After churchtime my wife and I went up to Mr. Jos. Burges’s and drank tea there and stayed till between 9 and 10. But I think I never saw children humoured more to their ruin than theirs, Mrs. Virgoe’s excepted.

Thurs. 22 July … Mr. F. Elless and I walked down to the Nursery. My business was to get some money out of Edmund Elphick, but could not. Never, never was money so scarce as now. We came home about 8 o’clock. As we went along, we laid 1lb. of gingerbread concerning the length of the church field footway. I laid it were 38 rods, and he that it was not. So accordingly as we came home, we measured it and found it to be 39 rod and 3 feet, so that I won this great but innocent wager. This day Mr. Porter’s daughter was baptized by the name of Elizabeth.

Fri. 23 July.  In the morn Mr. French and the keeper drawed the pond before our door and made us a present of a brace of carp. Afterwards we went down to the church to take Peter Adams’s bond out of the chest in the church to ask Mr. Poole’s advice on it. We went into Jones’s and spent 5d. apiece. Dined on a piece of pork and peas with a baked beggar’s pudding.

Sun. 25 July. … This day I had a sailor at the door who asked charity (and whom I relieved), who could speak 7 tongues.

Mon. 26 July.  My brother came over in the forenoon. I also went down to Mr. French’s to take the measure of Sam for a hat. In the afternoon, wrote out Mr. John Vine’s bills. This night our servant sat up with Joseph Mepham. Read part of Hervey’s Theron and Aspasio. This day gave Dame Dan a pair of stock and hand cards on the parish account.

Thurs. 29 July.  Paid the gardener at Halland 8d. for 1 gallon of currants for myself and 1 hundred of walnuts for my mother … Mr. Coates informed us that Admiral Byng was arrived at Spithead where he was under an arrest for cowardice and misbehaviour in the Mediterranean relating to the losing of the Isle of Minorca.

Weds. 7 Sept.  Mr. Burges has a sister to keep his house, whose name is Jael, and I think the greatest oddity I ever saw. It’s her misfortune to be deformed by nature; i.e. squint-eyed, a great stammering in her speech, and very much on one side. But yet her greatest misfortune is in her unhappy temper, for she even appears to [be] so miserable that we may justly say she is poor in the abundance of riches…

Mon. 12 Sept. … After breakfast Mr. Burges and I went down again to talk with Osborne’s servant about her being big with child, but she would give us no satisfactory answer.

Sat. 17 Sept. … I am come to a resolution, as I am so continually almost troubled with the inflammation in my eyes, to leave off during life (unless anything very material should intervene) eating any sort of meat, unless sometimes a bit of boiled lamb, mutton, or veal, or chick, or any such harmless diet; as also to refrain from all sorts of strong liquor.

Sun. 18 July.  My whole family at church in the morn, that is, myself, wife, maid and 2 boys … we dined on a piece of boiled beef, a currant suet pudding and carrots.

Thomas Turner's house, East Hoathly.
Photo: Simon Harriyott

Tues. 25 July [1758].  Oh what a misfortune it is upon me my wife’s being lame again, but let me not repine, since it is the Divine will. This is the twenty-ninth day on which we have had rain successively.

Weds. 2 Aug.  I completed the reading of Gay’s Fables, which I think contains a very good lesson of morality; and I think the language very healthy, being very natural.

Sat. 5 Aug.  I came home in company with Mr. Elless, about ten; but, to my shame do I say it, very much in liquor.

Sun. 6 Aug.  Pretty bad all day, with the stings of a guilty and tormenting conscience.

Fri. 22 Feb. [1760].  Paid John Cayley 2s. for the rent of our 2 seats in the church. Paid Tho. Burfield 7s. 6d. for 1 dozen beehives received by him today. We dined on a chicken roasted, a piece of boiled pork and turnips. At home all day. Very little to do all day; a most melancholy time – my poor heart is almost sunk with trouble! Dame Durrant made my wife a present of a fat goose.

Mon. 3 Mar.  In the even wrote my London letters. My wife went down to Mr. Porter’s, their youngest child being very ill.

Tues. 4 Mar. … In the even went down to Mr. Porter’s, to take instructions for the funeral of their little boy, who dies this morning about 8.20, aged about 9 months.

Tues. 7 Oct. … Dame Durrant and Mrs. Virgoe drank tea with my wife, who is extremely ill. In the even there was a rejoicing at Halland and a bonfire for our armies under the command of General Amherst having taken Montreal and all Canada from the French. All the neighbours were regaled with a supper, wine punch and strong beer. Today sent Thomas Durrant to Brighthelmstone for Dr. Poole, who came to my wife in the even, who is prodigious ill. At home all day and thank God pretty busy.”

I’d love to go on and on transcribing Thomas Turner's voice but time is up. Visit my website www.janeborodale.com to carry on in the vein of 18th-century Sussex, or better still, come along to a fabulous Historical Fiction Day at the Weald and Downland Open Air Museum near Chichester, on Sunday 5 August 2012, 10am-5pm. Speakers include Alison Weir, Maria McCann and Emma Darwin, and there are a few tickets still available for the day. More details on the Weald and Downland Museum site.