the cAstle In medIevAl englAnd

the cAstle In medIevAl englAnd Aesthetics, symbolism and status

Andy king

IT IS CHRISTMAS EvE, AND SIR GAWAIN, THE protagonist of the late-fourteenth century poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, is struggling across the desolate wilderness of the Wirral peninsula, pursuing a knightly quest. He prays to the virgin Mary to grant him shelter where he may celebrate the feast of Christmas. Looking up, he sees:

[A] castle most comely that ever a king possessed, Placed amid a pleasance, with a park all about it.

Approaching it, he observes that:

`e wall waded in the water wondrous deeply and up again to a huge height in the air it mounted, all of hard hewn stone to the high cornice fortified under the battlement in the best fashion and topped with fair turrets set by turns about … Many chalk-white chimneys he chanced to espy upon the roofs of towers all radiant white; so many a painted pinnacle was peppered about, among the crenelles of the castle clustered so thickly that all pared out of paper it appeared to have been.1

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight – one of the great masterpieces of English literature – tells of a series of games designed to put the courtesy and chivalry of Sir Gawain to the ultimate test. Set in the ‘historical’ world of King Arthur, the castle portrayed in the poem is nevertheless built to the very heights of contemporary fashion.2 And this passage encapsulates how castles were perceived in the Middle Ages in terms of aesthetics and status: the Green Knight’s castle is presented not as a forbidding, invincible stronghold; rather, it is a work of architectural refinement so graceful that it appears to be made of paper: an island of civilized gentility in the wilderness. Above all, it serves as a symbol, lovingly depicted, of the courtly status of its lord.

`e castle might perhaps be defined as a lordly residence provided with the architectural accoutrements of defence.3 While this may seem straightforward enough, the question of what constituted a castle has in fact been a matter of considerable controversy. For most of the twentieth century, historians of castles took the view that the primary function of a castle was defensive; therefore, buildings which lacked ‘serious’ fortifications were not ‘proper’ castles.4 And this led to long-running, and often rather acrimonious, disputes over whether particular buildings should be considered as ‘real’ castles or not; perhaps the most heated of these debates has concerned Bodiam, Sussex (see page 101), which has been described as an ‘old soldier’s dream house’.5 Contemporaries, however, took a much more catholic view of what constituted a castle; thus while historians have designated buildings such as Aydon, Northumberland, with terms such as ‘fortified manor houses’, on the grounds that they are too slightly fortified to count, they are generally referred to in medieval records straightforwardly as ‘castles’. Nevertheless, while definition was of no great consequence to those who inhabited them, designation was a matter of great importance. Just how important is revealed by a royal charter obtained by the Northumbrian squire William Heron in 1340; together with other markers of lordship such as a market and fairs, the king granted that ‘of special grace, and for good service rendered … [Heron] may hold his manor house of Ford, county Northumberland, which is enclosed with a high em-battled wall, by the name of a castle … for the defence of those parts against the attacks of the Scots, the king’s enemies’.6 In other words, Heron had gone to the trouble of obtaining royal confirmation that his fortified dwelling should be called a castle. Clearly, this did not make it a stronger fortress; rather, Heron was concerned about how it should be perceived.7

`is concern is demonstrated by royal writs (dubbed by historians ‘licences to crenellate’), granting permission for lords to fortify their residences. Some such 550 licences are recorded as being issued between 1200 (when the Crown started to keep records of its writs) and 1657. But licensing was not proscriptive; many castle builders never bothered to obtain one, yet very few faced any repercussions for their omission. Indeed, only very rarely, at times of prolonged political turmoil, did the Crown actively attempt to control the building of castles – mainly in the aftermath of the civil wars of the reigns of King Stephen (‘the Anarchy’, c.1138–c.1153) and King John (‘the Baron’s War’, 1215–17). Rather, it appears that demand for these licences originated with the builders of the castles themselves; and they served as what amounted to a royal foundation charter, bestowing both the cachet of royal recognition of a residence as a castle, and a declaration of the status of its lord.8 `e original licence to crenellate for

Warkworth Castle: the great tower displaying the Percy lion, the heraldic sign of its builder author’s photo

Chillingham Castle, Northumberland, is still displayed there for the edification of tourists; and it probably still fulfils much the same function as it did in 1344, when it was first issued.9

Clearly then, the medieval castle was far more than just a fortress; rather, it was a structure whose symbolic and aesthetic qualities were at least as important as its military and defensive function. And castles remained a vital marker of social standing throughout the Middle Ages. Medieval scholastic tradition held that society was divided into three estates, ordained by God: the oratores, those who pray; the bellatores, those who fight; and the laboratores, those who labour (a tripartite division embodied in the idealised pilgrims, the Priest, the Knight and the Plowman of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales). `e nobility were the bellatores; it is thus hardly surprising that their dwellings should have taken on a martial aspect. But more than this, castles were an embodiment of noble, knightly identity.

Castles were introduced to Britain by the Normans, the most common early form being a motte (or mound) with a tower at its summit, surrounded by a ditch, and with a bailey enclosed by a palisade and ditch. Such castles could be constructed quickly, and had an obvious defensive purpose. In the aftermath of the Conquest of 1066, such castles might, in the first instance, be intended to overawe the newly-subjected English tenants of a newly created lordship. And in this respect, a vital part of its function was symbolic: a tall tower on top of a motte served as a very visible sign of the lordship of its owner – and the fact that he could command the considerable resources and labour necessary to construct it (particularly as such labour was usually forced, so that tenants were obliged to erect these symbols of their own subjugation). Although, conditioned as we are by surviving masonry ruins, we now think of the castle as a construct of stone, most early castles were initially constructed with wood; and many were never rebuilt in stone. Unfortunately, only the earthworks of these wooden castles now survive, but archaeological digs have revealed that they could be very elaborate and impressive buildings.

However, just as the ecclesiastical dominion of the Church was marked out in cathedrals and abbeys of stone, so secular lords increasingly marked out their earthly dominion with castles of stone. Huge stone towers such as the Tower of London, built by William the Conqueror, Chepstow, constructed during William’s reign, or Dover, built by Henry ii in the 1180s, were intended to dominate their surroundings. `is is reflected in the very term donjon by which these towers were commonly referred to by contemporaries; it is derived from Latin dominus, meaning ‘lord’ (the English term ‘dungeon’ in turn derives from donjon, because of their frequent use as prisons).10

Great towers fell somewhat out of fashion after the end of the twelfth century, as increasingly elaborate and dramatic gatehouses came into vogue. But they continued to be built until the end of the Middle Ages. In the 1380s, Henry Percy, newly ennobled as earl of Northumberland, marked his advance by building a magnificent palatial new great tower at his castle at Warkworth, Northumberland. And as late as the 1440s, Ralph, Lord Cromwell, the former treasurer of the realm, built a spectacular new great tower at his ancestral castle at Tattershall, Lincolnshire, referred to in his building

Castle Rising: decorative blind arcading on the forebuilding of the great tower author’s photo Kenilworth: traceried window in John of Gaunt’s hall author’s photo

accounts as ‘le Dongeon’,11 though it was constructed in fashionable brick, rather than stone.

`e fine demeanour presented by Tattershall’s bright red brickwork highlights the importance of aesthetic efect in castle design. Like the Green Knight’s castle, with its ‘towers all radiant white’, many castles were painted with whitewash – notably the Tower of London, and White Castle (Monmouthshire), rebuilt in stone by Henry ii. Gatehouses often carried colourful displays of heraldry, marking out the lord’s lineage and standing in noble society; at Warkworth, carvings of the Percy lion prominently adorned both the outside of the great tower built by the first earl of Northumberland, in the 1380s (see previous page), and the porch of the hall (rebuilt by the fourth earl, in the 1480s). Castles might also be decorated with statuary, such as the eagles that topped the ‘Eagle Tower’ at Caernarfon (see page 104); or the stone guards that adorned the battlements of Marten’s tower at Chepstow, and a number of northern castles such as Alnwick. `e great tower at Norwich castle, built by William ii at the end of the eleventh century, is decorated with elaborate arcading, mirroring the detail of the city’s cathedral, which was being built at the same time. Similarly, the forebuilding of the great tower at Castle Rising in the same county, built in around 1140, is decorated with blind arcading (above, left), a feature frequently found in contemporary churches. Halls became increasingly splendid, often provided with impressive traceried windows, sometimes decorated with stained glass; particularly sumptuous was the palatial hall built by John of Gaunt at Kenilworth in the 1370s (above, right), fitting for his status as the son of Edward iii, Duke of Lancaster and titular king of Castile. Indeed, castle halls would have been far more colourful than their bare stone ruins now suggest; the wall-painting at Belsay, Northumberland, built by Sir John de Middleton at the end of the fourteenth century, is a very rare survival of what would once have commonplace (below).

But even before a visitor reached the castle gate, the authority, gentility and good taste of its lord would have been forcibly impressed upon them. Castles were generally set in a carefullycrafted landscape, designed specifically to this end, an intention skilfully evoked by the poet’s description of Sir Gawain’s first impression of the Green Knight’s castle.12 Parks, enclosed with walls or palisades, provided a picturesque background and a venue for hunting – that most noble of pastimes (they could

Belsay: fragments of fifteenth-century wall painting. Such decoration would have been common in castle halls and chambers author’s photo

also provide an economic resource; in the fifteenth century, venison from the deer park at Barnard Castle, Durham, seems to have been sold as far afield as London).13 Water features provided a suitably dramatic setting, and reflections on the water’s surface enhanced and heightened the visual impact of a castle. ornamental gardens served to enhance the aesthetic appeal of the castle; James i, King of Scots, imprisoned in England after being captured in 1406, praised the ‘garden fair’ and the ‘arbour green’ at Windsor castle.14 A church or a monastery associated with a castle emphasized both the piety of the lord, and the power and wealth that enabled such a display of piety. So Ralph Cromwell demolished the parish church at Tattershall, which lay beside his castle, and refounded it as an impressive new collegiate church, to complement his new great tower. Conversely, castles were sometimes fitted into a specific landscape. It is surely no coincidence that Cromwell, a prolific builder, chose to construct his tower at Tattershall in lowland Lincolnshire – there was no better place for him to make his mark, for it can be seen from Lincoln cathedral, some twenty miles away.

one of the grandest of these designed castle landscapes was Kenilworth (Warwickshire), first constructed in the 1120s, by Geofrey de Clinton, Henry i’s chamberlain, and a man on the make.15 It was furnished with a monumental great tower, and surrounded by carefully maintained artificial lakes, transforming it into a virtual island. Sited next to the castle were an Augustinian Priory and the borough of Kenilworth, both also founded by Clinton. `e castle and lake were surrounded by a huge park; and a large pleasance, or pleasure garden, was constructed by Henry v on the banks of the lake about half a mile from the castle. `e contemporary chronicler `omas Elmham made an allegory of Henry’s work:

`ere was a fox-ridden place overgrown with briars and thorns. He [the king] removes these and cleanses the site so that wild creatures are driven of. Where it had been nasty now becomes peaceful marshland; the coarse ground is sweetened with running water and the site made nice. So the king considers how to overcome the di2culties confronting his own Kingdom. He remembers the foxy tricks of the French both in deed and in writing and is mortified by the recollection.16

Kenilworth was undoubtedly a strongly defensible fortification: it withstood a six-month siege by Henry iii in 1266. But it was also designed to impress.

Such considerations remained true even where the needs of defence were urgent. `omas, Earl of Lancaster, the cousin of Edward ii, started work on his formidable castle at Dunstanburgh, Northumberland, in 1313–14, just a year or two after he had led a rebellion against Edward and put his hated favourite, Piers Gaveston, to death. `omas intended Dunstanburgh as a bolt-hole against Edward’s wrath. But it also reflected `omas’ pretensions, being furnished with a series of meres to highlight its dramatic setting, for the castle itself was spectacularly sited on top of a steep promontory by the sea; and the approach was carefully laid out so that visitors were presented with the most impressive views of the place. Even the name Dunstanburgh seems to have been specially coined from new, to lend `omas’ castle a spurious air of antiquity to match the venerable royal castle of Bamburgh, a few miles up the coast.17 An imagined antiquity became attached to many castles. `ere was a widespread late-medieval tradition that the Tower of London had been built by Julius Caesar. Similarly, in his Morte D’Arthur, Sir `omas Malory comments in passing of Lancelot’s castle Joyous Garde, that ‘some men say it was Alnwick, and some men say it was Bamburgh’.18 Some lords deliberately fostered the development of historical associations; when, in the fourteenth century, the Beauchamp earls of Warwick built a new tower at their castle at Warwick, they called it ‘Guy’s Tower’, after Guy of Warwick, the pseudo-historical Saxon hero of a chivalric romance.19 Such associations were intended to anchor a lord and his lineage in the historical traditions of their ‘country’, emphasizing the longstanding heritage to which they were the heirs. Castles provided a potent and enduring symbol of that heritage.

However, it was perhaps Edward i who went to the greatest lengths to evoke historical precedent. After conquering Wales in 1282–3, he began work on three gargantuan state-of-the-art castles at Harlech, Conwy and Caernarfon. All were designed to be invincible fortresses, intended to serve as fortifications to protect against Welsh rebellion. But Caernarfon, in particular, was also designed with deliberate symbolic reference to the past. `e castle was built with polygonal towers (instead of the more fashionable round towers employed at Conwy and Harlech), and the walls had bands of coloured stone, in imitation of Roman building styles. `is linked the castle with the ruins of the neighbouring Roman fort of Segontium, which was associated with tales of King Arthur, and of the Roman Emperor Constantine.20 `us Edward’s castle marked out his claim to be the rightful heir to the authority of Arthur and the Romans.

`e author of a contemporary English chronicle, `e Flowers of History, commented, ‘by God’s providence, the glory of the Welsh was transferred to the English’.21 Caernarfon castle was a powerful symbol of this transfer, set in stone. And if anyone missed the point, they could hardly miss the castle; like Conwy and Harlech, Caernarfon was one of the largest and most forbiddingly impressive buildings in Wales, dwarfing even the Welsh cathedrals – and especially (and pointedly) the castles of the Welsh princes.

`ose visiting a lord in his castle would approach it through his lands and estates. `ey would first see it, perhaps framed by a lake or mere, typically set within a landscape with the lord’s park, where he hunted; his church or abbey, where his ancestors might be buried and commemorated; and a village or town, inhabited by his tenants to provide for the castle’s needs. `e castle itself, with its martial panoply of towers and battlements, would mark out its lord’s membership of the chivalric classes, evoking the knightly achievements of his line. `e drawbridge over a deep ditch or moat would be lowered, and the portcullis raised, to allow the visitors into a gatehouse, decorated with its lord’s arms and banners. `eir horses would be stabled, and they would be ushered, perhaps across another moat and through another inner gatehouse, to a porch. Finally, after a suitable wait (depending on the visitors’ standing), they would be ushered into the presence of the lord himself, in a hall or reception chamber, perhaps in a great tower.

All hasped in his harness to hall they brought him, Where a fair blaze in the fireplace fiercely was burning. `en the lord of that land leaving his chamber Came mannerly to meet the man on the floor.22

`is scene epitomizes the symbolic and aesthetic purpose of the castle. It provided the stage for the enactment of knightly, chivalric lordship; perhaps more than anything else, the castle symbolized what it was to be a lord.

1. `e translation is that of J.R.R. Tolkien, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, ed. Christopher Tolkien (London, 1975), pp. 39–40. 2. M.W. `ompson, ‘`e Green Knight’s Castle’, in Studies in Medieval History Presented to R. Allen Brown, ed. Christopher Harper-Bill, Christopher Holdsworth and Janet L. Nelson (Woodbridge, 1989). 3. John Goodall, `e English Castle, 1066–1640 (New Haven and London, 2011), p. 6. 4. Charles Coulson, Castles in Medieval Society: Fortresses in England, France and Ireland in the Central Middle Ages (oxford, 2003), pp. 30–41. 5. D.J. Turner, ‘Bodiam, Sussex: True Castle or old Soldier’s Dream House?’, in England in the Fourteenth Century: Proceedings of the 1985 Harlaxton Symposium, ed. W.M. ormrod (Woodbridge, 1986). `e academic ‘battle of Bodiam’ is outlined by Robert Liddiard, Castles in Context: Power, Symbolism and Landscape, 1066 to 1500 (Macclesfield, 2005), pp. 7–10. 6. Calendar of Charter Rolls 1327–41, pp. 468–9 (my emphasis). 7. Andy King, ‘Fortresses and Fashion Statements; Gentry Castles in Fourteenth-Century Northumberland’, Journal of Medieval History, xxxiii (2007). 8. Philip Davis, ‘English Licences to Crenellate 1199–1567’, Castle Studies Group Journal, xx (2006–07); Charles Coulson, ‘Freedom to Crenellate by Licence – An Historiographical Revision’, Nottingham Medieval Studies, xxxviii (1994). For an alternative interpretation, stressing the defensive role of the castle, see Colin Platt, ‘Revisionism in Castle Studies: A Caution’, Medieval Archaeolon, li (2007). It should also be noted that there is some debate over what constitutes a ‘licence to crenellate’; some twelfth-century charters have been construed as such licences. 9. It is printed in Cadwallader Bates, `e Border Holds of Northumberland, Archaeologia Aeliana, 2nd ser., xiv (1891), p. 297; King, ‘Fortresses and Fashion Statements’, pp. 374–5. 10. Note that the term ‘keep’ was used to describe castle towers only from the sixteenth century. 11. Goodall, English Castle, p. 354. 12. oliver H. Creighton, Designs upon the Land: Elite Landscapes of the Middle Ages (Woodbridge, 2013). 13. David Austin, ‘`e Castle and the Landscape’, Landscape History, vi (1984), p. 75. 14. Creighton, Designs upon the Land, pp. 169–70. 15. Kenilworth is a much studied castle; see in particular Richard K. Morris, Kenilworth Castle (2nd edn, London, 2010); Matthew Johnson, Behind the Castle Gate: From Medieval to Renaissance (London, 2002), pp. 137–42; Goodall, English Castle, passim. 16. Translated by M.W. `ompson, ‘Reclamation of Waste Ground for the Pleasance at Kenilworth Castle, Warwickshire’, Medieval Archaeolon, viii (1964), p. 223. 17. Alastair oswald and Jeremy Ashbee, Dunstanburgh Castle (London, 2007); Andy King, ‘Lordship, Castles and Locality: `omas of Lancaster, Dunstanburgh Castle and the Lancastrian A2nity in Northumberland, 1296–1322’, Archaeologia Aeliana, 5th ser., xxix (2001). 18. Malory, Works, ed. Eugène vinaver, 3rd edn (oxford, 1977), p. 724 (spelling modernized). Malory was familiar with Alnwick and Bamburgh having accompanied Edward iv’s army which besieged them in 1462. 19. Goodall, English Castle, pp. 297–300. 20. Abigail Wheatley, ‘Caernarfon Castle and its Mytholon’, in `e Impact of the Edwardian Castles in Wales, ed. Diane M. Williams and John R. Kenyon (oxford, 2010). 21. Flores historiarum, ed. H.R. Luard, Rolls Series (3 vols, 1890), iii, 59. 22. Tolkien, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, p. 41.