Green Grow the Rushes O!

The previous two posts talked about the use of rushes on floors in churches and in dwellings, but raised the question of how messy they could be, especially considering Erasmus' description of English homes.

"Rushes" could come from several different plants, but the fact that the commonly used Sweet Flat (Acorus calamus) grew to more than two meters raises an interesting question: might they have woven the rushes into mats rather than just strew them about?

It's not a crazy hypothesis. Weaving was hardly an unknown practice, and Egyptians used woven mats of rushes thousands of years ago. The argument yesterday about rushes piling up because of long gowns has been countered by arguing that of course women would pick up the hem of their skirt while walking, as you would on stairs. But would you want to do that every time you walked across your living room? On the other hand, the more they were walked on, the flatter they became, so catching on clothing would (I guess) become less a problem over time, until it was time to bring in a new layer.

If loose rushes were used as late as Erasmus' time and beyond, why do no artists' renditions of living situations never show rushes on floors? Does the level surface of the floor mean the rushes were woven into flat matting? Erasmus refers to rushes being "renewed" and the "bottom layer," which could mean fresh woven matting laid on top of previous. Perhaps the goal was to continue to add rather than subtract in order to keep a soft surface for walking; also, removing the previously trodden on matting was perhaps not worth the hassle.

Author Liza Picard, in Elizabeth's London: Everyday Life in Elizabethan London, says

...the usual floor, especially on the upper stories, was wood, often covered with rushes and sweet-smelling herbs. Woven matting was replacing loose rushes by the end of the century. If you have visited an Elizabethan National Trust house early in the season, you will have noticed two pleasant aspects of the rush matting faithfully reproduced by the Trust. New rushes have a lovely smell, and they are quiet and comfortable to walk on.

Would it really have taken until the late 1500s for someone to say "Hey! What if we took these long tough leaves that are just like the ones we weave into baskets and weave them into floor coverings?" Were some doing this all along, and were references to "rushes" or "rush" on the floor simply verbal shorthand for "rush matting"?

It is clear that the rushbearing events for churches did not involve weaving the rushes, but that was not for a place that was lived in daily, and so I think matting would not be worth the investment in time. Homes are a different matter, however, if you'll excuse the pun.

It's a puzzle worthy of debate. Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves.

This blog is a journey of discovery for me as I do my research into each topic and find ways to link them to the previous and following topics. I want to acknowledge Julia for her interest in rush floors and knowing more about them, especially since it led me to realize the different ways that "rush floors" could be understood. The truth is, the ordinary practices of day-to-day living are unremarkable to those living through them, and rarely get written about. We are then left to try to interpret from stray references what was actually happening "way back when."

Given Erasmus' condemnation of the English flooring and unhealthy climate, I think medieval hygiene is worth looking at next. Oh, and if you want some rush matting for your own floors, try here.

Rush Floors

We've read about medieval dwellings having rushes on the floors, in order to provide something soft and clean to walk on instead of the compacted earth that would constitute the floor in cottages. The cold stone floors of castles would also benefit from rush flooring. The accounts for King Edward II show a purchase of "a supply of rushes for strewing the King's chamber" from one John de Carlford. It was also used for the floors of churches, and the practice of rushbearing has been adopted as a modern festival at some churches.

Many different plants could provide these rushes, but a common one was the Acorus calamus, pictured here. To the Middle Ages it was "Sweet Flag," although it had many other names (since it grows on every continent except South America and Antarctica). The leaves are flat blades that can grow to a height of 79 inches, and emit a pleasant odor when crushed.

The use of Sweet Flag did not start in the Middle Ages. A papyrus dating to 1300BCE mentions it for use in perfumes. But rushes on the floor are thought of now as a medieval European practice. Was that practical?

Think of a pile of long-bladed plants strewn all over a dirt or stone floor. Sure, when crushed they emit a sweet aroma, but how high-stepping would you have to be in your own home to crush them and not have them catching on your feet and ankles? How deeply were they spread? Wouldn't they also provide an environment for vermin?

In a castle, the situation would be worse: high-born ladies in long gowns walking across rushes "strewn" about? The front of your floor-length gown would create a pile-up of rushes. Where's the sense in that? It's one thing to deal with it in a church which you visit for a short time once or twice each week, but in day-to-day living?

The Dutch philosopher Erasmus (1466 - 1536) makes the perils of rush floors clear. He lived in England for 15 years and complained about his time as a professor at Queens' College, Cambridge, for the lack of good wine. He wrote about England:

The [floors] are, in general, laid with white clay, and are covered with rushes, occasionally renewed, but so imperfectly that the bottom layer is left undisturbed, sometimes for twenty years, harbouring expectoration, vomiting, the leakage of dogs and men, ale droppings, scraps of fish, and other abominations not fit to be mentioned. Whenever the weather changes a vapour is exhaled, which I consider very detrimental to health. I may add that England is not only everywhere surrounded by sea, but is, in many places, swampy and marshy, intersected by salt rivers, to say nothing of salt provisions, in which the common people take so much delight I am confident the island would be much more salubrious if the use of rushes were abandoned, and if the rooms were built in such a way as to be exposed to the sky on two or three sides, and all the windows so built as to be opened or closed at once, and so completely closed as not to admit the foul air through chinks; for as it is beneficial to health to admit the air, so it is equally beneficial at times to exclude it.

I have to assume that his experience of rush floors was limited. Here he describes (I assume) a lower-class household (of which there were many, to be sure), but his rooms at Cambridge would not be like this, nor a well-to-do household that could afford the regular refreshing of rushes. We cannot argue with an eyewitness, but his experience of rushes might not be universal.

There's another theory; I will, however, string this discussion of rushes along to a third day, and present a picture of a much more efficient use of rushes and tell you where you can still get them for your floors today. See you here tomorrow.

Rushbearing

The churches mentioned in this blog have been well-known Anglo-Saxon, Norman, or Gothic edifices, but there were numerous small churches in villages and hamlets, and many of them had something in common: dirt floors.

Not plain dirt: they would be packed down so they were smooth and level. But they were dirt; stone floors were expensive, and wooden planks were also an extravagance in many cases. There was a way to make the compacted earthen floor a little more palatable, and that was through the uses of rushes.

Rushes came from several plants, a common one being the Acorus calamus called "Sweet Flag" (and a dozen other names). It had medical uses according to Dioscorides, but its use to cover floors derived from its sweet aroma. People would use rushes for the floors at home (and I'll talk about that tomorrow), but the use of rushes in churches turned into a festival in its own right that is still celebrated in towns in England today (although the need for rushes on the floor is long past).

Rushbearing was the event when fresh rushes were brought to the church. It developed into a fall celebration, involving the whole town collecting and parading the rushes to the church to be strewn on the floors. Records from the 16th century show that church bells were rung on the day, and wine, ale, and cakes were provided to those bearing the rushes. Townspeople would also dress up in costumes during the celebration:

...some of them putting on womens aparrell, other some of them putting on longe haire & visardes, and others arminge them with the furnyture of souldiers, and being there thus armed and disguysed did that day goe from the Churche, and so went up and downe the towne showinge themselves. [Wilson, Richard; Dutton, Richard; Findlay, Alison (2003). Region, religion and patronage: Lancastrian Shakespeare]

The Puritans outlawed rushbearing festivals because of the absence of decorum and presence of drinking, but in 1617 the "Declaration of Sports" by James I listed rushbearing as one of the pursuits allowed on Sundays and Holy Days.

Sometimes the rushes were carried by townsfolk, sometimes they were brought on a rushcart. Often the festival would take place on the Sunday closest to the feast day of the saint for whom the church was named. In many cases, it was simply a harvest festival, connected with collecting rushes before the cold weather wiped them out.

No churches nowadays need rushes on the floors, but many towns still have (or have revived) the festival. If you want to see how one town celebrates it, check out https://rushbearing.com/, where the town of Sowerby Bridge has surpassed all others by owning the web domain!

But what about non-church use of rushes for floors? Huts and cottages would have surely had earthen floors. And what about castles? Did stone floors need rushes? Were people in the Middle Ages trampling on plants in their own homes? Let's figure this out together ... next time.