And So to Bed

Nicola here. 

“Margery slipped from the vast bed – it had almost engulfed her and the mattress was so soft…”

Last night as I was lying in my bed with soft feather pillows but a very hard mattress, I thought about beds in general and beds in historical romances in particular. I almost always model the beds in my stories on ones I’ve seen in stately homes so they are usually grand testers or fourposters with embroidered hangings. I tend to make them huge as well, which isn’t strictly accurate since the beds I’ve seen in the majority of grand houses are pretty small, possibly too small to share comfortably and so high you might roll out if you indulged in any strenuous activity!

Margery, the heroine of my new book Forbidden, out later this month, is a former maidservant. As such she has been accustomed to sleeping in a narrow bed in an attic room shared with other maids.
When she was promoted to be a lady’s maid she had her own small bedroom near that of her mistress. It is only when Margery goes to her grandfather’s stately home, Templemore, that she is given an entire suite of rooms of her own, and a bed like a huge galleon that she, a small woman, almost gets lost in. I used the suite of rooms that I stayed in at Coombe Abbey to inspire me. This was the bed (in the photo on the right) and I didn't get a wink of sleep because I fully expected the ghosts of previous occupants of the house to waft past at any moment!

 

In contrast, I’ve seen servants’ bedrooms at Ashdown House and they were tiny. In fact they weren’t really bedrooms at all, just narrow strips of space partitioned off from one large open attic. There was little privacy, but then no one expected it. This servant's bedroom in another National Trust house is palatial in comparison.

 The Tudor Bed

In Medieval and Tudor times the bed was one of the most valuable items in a household so when
Shakespeare left his best bed to his daughter and heir and only his second best bed to his wife that would have been totally understandable to his contemporaries. Beds from this period were usually “box beds” with rope stretchers that supported boards on which the mattress would lie. They had to be tightened regularly (from which we get the saying “sleep tight” and the bed itself was too complicated a contraption to move so it remained in the chamber whilst all the movable pieces – hangings, mattresses, pillows, bed linen – travelled around with the family. Servants tended to have pallet to sleep on in the same room or a truckle bed that pulled out from beneath the main bed. The hangings started off separate from the bed, hanging from hooks on the ceiling, but soon became a part of the bed structure. This is a picture of Mary Queen of Scots' bedroom from my recent visit to Holyroodhouse Palace. (Incidentally the "state bed" of a monarch was not a functional bed as such, but a representation of royalty. No one, whatever their rank, was allowed to lean on Henry’s VIII’s bedpost because it represented the royal person. The state bed was used for the ritual of going to bed in the evening and rising in the morning, but then the monarch would often slip away to a smaller, more comfortable bed elsewhere!)

The best mattresses were sacks of wool that were stuffed with down and feathers, although other stuffings including straw, gorse, seaweed and wigs (yes, really) have all been found in medieval mattresses. I’ve tried straw mattresses and found them very prickly. Gorse, I imagine would be unbearably scratchy and I can’t imagine anyone wanting to lie on it and even the best feather mattresses I have sampled from this period were very lumpy but then I am like the Princess and the Pea, a very poor sleeper.

Of course the average person had only a pallet on the floor of a cottage to sleep on. Babies slept in drawers and people shared beds not from choice but because they had no choice. I do wonder if I had been a medieval peasant whether I would have got used to sleeping in very cramped conditions. I suspect I would probably have been so tired all the time that I would have been able to sleep anywhere!

The Great Bed of Ware

One of my favourite beds is the "great bed of Ware", which was built in the Elizabethan period. It is almost ten feet wide and was probably built not to sleep in but as a tourist attraction for an inn in Ware, Hertfordshire. Shakespeare used is as a byword for hugeness in Twelfth Night and 26 butchers and their wives allegedy spent the night in it for a bet in 1689. It was made of oak and was therefore considered only "middling grand" because the best beds of the time were made of walnut.

 

The Regency Experience

 In a previous blog post I noted how surprised I was that when I visited the Georgian House in Edinburgh the main bedchamber was on the ground floor and also doubled up as a parlour for receiving guests. I also visited Newhailes, a Georgian country house on the outskirts of the city where the "best bedroom" was also on the ground floor in a room off the drawing room.  By the Regency period, however, most houses had all their bedrooms upstairs and had moved away from the idea of bedrooms as public spaces to ideas of privacy. (The photo shows one of the interconnecting bedrooms at Ashdown, built in the 17^th century when you would still expect someone to wander through your room on their way somewhere else!) Regency beds tended to be high because of the very fat mattresses and feather bolsters, and steps were provided to help you climb in.

A word about marriage beds (most appropriately for a historical romance blog.) The colour green was associated with Venus, the goddess of love, and therefore many bridal beds were hung with green. I also love the tradition of decorating the marriage bed with violets and jasmine. That would have smelled beautiful.

The last word on bedchambers goes to Margery, who is driven out of her bedchamber at Templemore when her bed hangings catch fire after she falls asleep reading in bed. The terrifying Dowager Lady Wardeaux offers her a new bedchamber:

"Eventually Margery was installed in the North Tower room, a circular chamber with walls covered in yet more family portraits and a spiral stair leading down to the ground.

“I wanted something smaller,” she wailed, feeling like a marble rattling around in a huge box.

“I’ve explained that there is nothing smaller,” Lady Wardeaux said with barely concealed exasperation. “We do not have small rooms here at Templemore.”

I hope I am not being too personal when I enquire into your sleep preferences! Do you sleep like a log or catnap lightly? Are you a feather mattress sort of person or would you like to try gorse (perfect for Scottish heroes and heroines?) Do you prefer Victorian brass or wooden fourposters?  

Comments

[Jenny Haddon]

I so want an Official Bed in which to receive visitors, tribute, chocolate . . .

[Jenny Haddon]

And a fab post, Nicola. Thank you.

I've often wondered about those Royal Beds. They don't look cosy to me. Am glad to hear the oppressed royal could nip off to get in his 8 hours somewhere more comfortable.

[Karen Specht]

I have a pillow top mattress and a Oak fourposter which I love. :)

[Nicola Cornick]

What a marvellous idea, Jenny. Bring back the Official Bed for the Receipt of Chocolate! So glad you liked the post. I was fascinated to discover that the state bed wasn't classified as a piece of furniture or used for sleeping. Henry VIII had three other beds, apparently, and those were just his own...

[Nicola Cornick]

Karen, that sounds absolutely blissful!

[Kate Hardy]

Fabulous post, Nicola - and, as always, a few lightbulb moments for me!

Re mattresses, I'm a total princess and it has to be a firm latex mattress (not memory foam - too soft and too hot). We had to switch beds in our holiday cottage because the one in the room with the en suite was impossible - put it this way, when DH turned over in bed, I got bounced out!

[Barbara Andrews]

I visited Castle Coombe (the village) in May. Is that where Coombe Abbey is? Is it a bed and breakfast or something?

[Pamela Hartshorne]

Really interesting post, Nicola. I was thinking about beds only yesterday and how many there seem to have been in some Tudor rooms according to some probate inventories. You have to wonder how they squeezed them all in.

Interesting about the marriage beds too. In Elizabethan times they sprinkled the sheets with rosemary to represent fidelity on the wedding night. Must have been a bit bumpy.

I'm a princess-and-the-pea sleeper myself, and am quite sure I would have made a terrible fuss about sleeping on a straw mattress. I quite fancy the Great Bed of Ware, although not with all the butchers.

[Nicola Cornick]

I'm snorting into my tea at your experience in the holiday cottage, Kate! So glad I'm not the only princess around when it comes to getting my sleeping quarters comfortable!

[Nicola Cornick]

Hi Barbara. Coombe Abbey is a country house hotel near Coventry and the most wonderful place to stay. As the name implies, it was originally a medieval abbey that was bought by the Harington family in the 16th century and subsequently sold to the Cravens. I went there to research Craven history and was lucky enough to get an upgrade to the best room, Elizabeth of Bohemia's suite.

Castle Coombe is an equally fabulous place to stay IMO. Lots of wonderful historical buildings there.

[Nicola Cornick]

That's fascinating about the probate inventories, Pam. Do you think there were so many beds because they were valued as status symbols?

I love the idea of sprinkling the sheets with rosemary although I imagine the reality might be less appealing, a bit like being in a stew.

Yes, I love the Great Bed of Ware but I certainly wouldn't want to get in there with lots of other people. It must have been the 17th century equivalent of how many people you can fit in a Mini!

[Keira Soleore]

Nicola, what a fun post. I'm admitting to prurient interest here, but whenever I visit palaces and/or country homes, I always like to peek into bedchambers. I'm curious what other people's notion of "comfort" is.

As for my bed, we have a platform bed, as is, no box spring (too saggy) but instead it's a flat wooden plank on which the main mattress sits. The mattress is very firm with a memory foam pillowtop--best of both worlds in terms of support and softness.

[Nicola Cornick]

So glad you liked the post, Keira. Thank you. I do think that you can get such an interesting insight into people's lives from poking around the bedchambers of stately homes, whether they be the state apartments or the servants' quarters.

We have a firm mattress that rests on wooden planks too. It's perfect - but I just can't seem to find the right pillows to go with it.

[LouisaCornell]

Another fascinating post, Nicola! I do remember the bed my brothers shared in our house in England. It was HUGE! My brothers were 3 and 6 when we moved to England and that bed served as a sailing ship, a football field and any number of imaginative places. Fortunately it was made of oak and beyond sturdy.

After years of sleeping on planes, in trains and in opera dressing rooms I can sleep almost anywhere. I do, however, have very fond memories of the feather mattress and down 'beddecke' in my cottage in Germany. It was like sleeping on a cloud.

These days it is a Civil War era iron bedstead with a modern mattress and box springs on it. Or the over-sized futon in my writing studio for me.

[Nicola Cornick]

How wonderful, Louisa. I love the way the old oak bed fired so many imaginative childhood adventures for you all! And I do envy you the ability to sleep anywhere.

[CateS]

We have a handcrafted Indiana cherry bed with solid head and foot boards.. with a SleepNumber mattress. I also love the photos of those marvelous bed/bedrooms ..

[Nicola Cornick]

Cate, that cherry bed sounds beautiful. I'm glad you like the photos. I must admit I love peeking into stately home bedrooms and getting a few pictures!

[Anne Gracie]

Lovely post, Nicola. I have a gorgeously comfortable bed but it's just a base and mattress on wheels, so nothing fancy to look at. I'd love a 4 poster, though I'm sure the hangings would get a bit dusty.

I have a gorgeous bed in my latest story and an old lady who holds court from it. Such fun.

I'm a light sleeper, but in my hiking days I used to be able to sleep on the hard ground with nothing except a groundsheet beneath me, so I do think one can get used to anything. Not gorse though!

[Karin]

Another princess and the pea here. I have to have just the right conditions for sleeping, in my case total quiet and darkness, a very soft feather pillow(nothing bouncy) and a firm platform bed. They say that people who have trouble sleeping should not read in bed, but that's where I do a lot of my best reading, and I've always got a stack of books next to the bed.

[Nicola Cornick]

Goodness, Anne, nothing but a groundsheet! That is impressive. Can't wait to read your old lady holding court from her bed. Wonderful!

[Nicola Cornick]

I hadn't heard that about not reading in bed if you aren't a good sleeper, Karin. You can imagine the cries of outrage if they tried to stop people doing that!

[Artemisia]

I was caught by the "interconnecting bedrooms." At one time my family was left temporarily homeless due to a fire, and my grandad finagled an apartment on the main street over retail stores. It was an odd place: to get from the front living room to the rear kitchen you walked through the bedrooms and dining room! Or you could go out the door to the hallway and into another door. The tenant across from us had a living room that was completely separate from the rest of her apartment - she had to walk across the stairway landing! All of those buildings are gone now, and I recently learned they were originally built to be sleeping quarters for railroad workers, not residential apartments at all.

[Nicola Cornick]

What a fascinating building that sounds, Artemesia. I do think that the arrangement of space in old buildings was sometimes very different. When we were moving house we looked at a number of old cottages from the 17th century where you had to walk through one bedroom to get to the next. At the time the house was built I daresay no one thought anything of it but it wouldn't suit most modern ideas of privacy.

[Connie Fischer]

I really enjoyed your in-depth descriptions of these different beds and sleeping arrangements over the years. I wish I could say that I sleep like a log every night, but unfortunately, I don't. I must remember to not drink tea too late in the evening! I prefer a fairly soft bed. I think our bones were meant to lie on something that gives a bit. While the look of Victorian brass is lovely, quite frankly trying to sit up in bed without a comfortable headboard would not be preferable.

[Nicola Cornick]

So glad you enjoyed the blog piece, Connie. I agree with you on the tea. I love a cup of tea in the evening but unfortunately it's both a stimulant and a diuretic! That's a good point about the headboard. We have a Victorian bed and the upright metal head is very uncomfortable to sit against whereas our oak headboard on the spare bed is lovely to lean on.

[Mary Jo Putney]

Wonderful post, Nicola! I've seen some of those beds, and try not to imagine sleeping in them. I didn't know that royalty sometimes snuck off into more comfortable, if less royal, beds. *G*

I'm definitely another in the princess and pea category. Not only do I have a pillow top mattress, but I have a luxurious deep wool filled pad over -that.- And I've become spoiled with a king sized bed--a queen seems a little cramped for two people.

As for giving up reading in bed? That's as ridiculous as not allowing the cats to sleep in the bed. The very idea of banishing them is unthinkable. *G* Not least because a cat standing on your chest to gently inform you that it's breakfast time is much more pleasant than the average alarm. *G*

[Karin]

Artemesia, the type of apartment you are talking about with the rooms all in a row and no hallway, was very common in urban NY and NJ, and they were known as railroad flats. I always thought the name was because the rooms are laid out in a line like railroad cars.

[Nicola Cornick]

Mary Jo, I completely agree that a Queen sized bed feels a little on the cramped side for two. I love my king-sized bed! Our cat doesn't sleep on the bed because she can't keep still for more than 10 minutes at a time and kept bringing in lovely little gifts for us, but she comes in every morning without fail and takes tea with us. Very civilised.

[Mary Jo Putney]

I must admit that if our cats were allowed out and returned with dead vermin to lay on the bed, there would be a rethinking of the situation. *G* The tea taking sounds rather nice.

The Elusive Lacey is now lying by my monitor and hopefully channeling creativity from the astral plane....

[Nicola Cornick]

We took the vermin gifts as a sign of her love for us but all the same we didn't want them dropped on us at 2am! Best wishes from Bob to The Elusive Lacey!

[Mary Jo Putney]

Nicola--

Being cats, Bob and Lacey would hate each other. Probably just as well there's an ocean between them. *G*

MJP, trying not to think of a dead mouse on the comforter at 2:00 am....

[maillot lakers]

Ma olen kindlasti teine printsess ja herne kategooriasse. Mitte ainult ma pean Kattemadrats, kuid mul on luksuslik sügav villa täis pad üle sellest. - Ja ma olen saanud riknenud koos kuningas suurusega voodi - kuninganna tundub veidi kramplik kaks inimest.

[Artemisia]

I'll add one more thing about the "railroad flats" and then I'll drop out: in the early 1900s our town barely existed as a town. There was a rail yard at the end of what became our street - quite a large one as it served both the Westinghouse works and nearby steel mills. The maps show a couple of hotels. By the time I was growing up there in the 50s, the rail yard was gone, (W) had expanded, and a school replaced the hotels. It had become a small town. But there was still a spur line servicing the (W) plants as rail was the only way to ship the big turbine generators they built there. It ran behind our house halfway up a hill, but after the first week we got used to it. I can still sleep through anything!
Pleasant dreams!