Shutters
As many readers probably know, the English word for window derives from the Anglo-Saxon ‘vindr eage’, meaning the ‘wind’s eye’, which in Tudor times really did mean that: a windy hole in the wall.
Glass was the preserve of the extremely wealthy. The process was painstaking and it could only be produced in tiny pieces that were then fashioned together with strips of lead, a look that we now know as ‘lead lights’ – developers in the 1920s and 1930s were rather fond of ‘mock’ Tudor houses and gifted their new homes vast swathes of lead-light windows.
But the reality for the average medieval house dweller was a chilly one. Fireplaces were huge in an attempt to compensate for the fact that they were literally heating the street. Wooden boards were used to cover the windows to stem some heat loss and to keep out those sent half insane by lack of social or medical care.
In merchants’ houses, the top half of the ‘windows’ might have been glass, with the bottom half covered with a shutter that could be opened to ‘air’ the house. Alastair Hendy’s house on All Saints Street in the Old Town is a perfect example. Visitors on open day are able to marvel at two tiny upper panes that have survived almost 500 years, with fireplaces big enough for a freezing man to sit in.
Mercifully, by the time Rock House was built, glass manufacturing had moved on and the Georgians had embraced the full-length window look. When Elizabeth Blackwell bought the house in 1879, she had sliding, New England-style, louvred shutters fitted to the front four windows. Her neighbours probably thought she was more than a little odd, preferring to stick to the traditional solid interior shutters fitted with iron bars they could fasten for security.
Elizabeth however, having been the first woman to be placed on the UK Medical Register, was very keen on the healing properties of fresh air and the windows would have been left open, with the louvres allowing the draughts to blow through. As I look at having them renovated, I would like to think that on rare summer days, I might follow her example and let the outside in. But perhaps not without a trip to the locksmith first.
Next week: Is lino a four-letter word?
Glass was the preserve of the extremely wealthy. The process was painstaking and it could only be produced in tiny pieces that were then fashioned together with strips of lead, a look that we now know as ‘lead lights’ – developers in the 1920s and 1930s were rather fond of ‘mock’ Tudor houses and gifted their new homes vast swathes of lead-light windows.
But the reality for the average medieval house dweller was a chilly one. Fireplaces were huge in an attempt to compensate for the fact that they were literally heating the street. Wooden boards were used to cover the windows to stem some heat loss and to keep out those sent half insane by lack of social or medical care.
In merchants’ houses, the top half of the ‘windows’ might have been glass, with the bottom half covered with a shutter that could be opened to ‘air’ the house. Alastair Hendy’s house on All Saints Street in the Old Town is a perfect example. Visitors on open day are able to marvel at two tiny upper panes that have survived almost 500 years, with fireplaces big enough for a freezing man to sit in.
Mercifully, by the time Rock House was built, glass manufacturing had moved on and the Georgians had embraced the full-length window look. When Elizabeth Blackwell bought the house in 1879, she had sliding, New England-style, louvred shutters fitted to the front four windows. Her neighbours probably thought she was more than a little odd, preferring to stick to the traditional solid interior shutters fitted with iron bars they could fasten for security.
Elizabeth however, having been the first woman to be placed on the UK Medical Register, was very keen on the healing properties of fresh air and the windows would have been left open, with the louvres allowing the draughts to blow through. As I look at having them renovated, I would like to think that on rare summer days, I might follow her example and let the outside in. But perhaps not without a trip to the locksmith first.
Next week: Is lino a four-letter word?