Most of us were created in one, many were born in one, and many have died in one. Most of us spend a third of our lifetime in one, where we read, converse, make love, sip a glass of evening wine or a cup of morning coffee. It is a hospice of health and restoration, a refuge where the anguished can weep alone, a protective castle to which small children flee in the middle of the night to escape the terrors and specters cloaked in the darkness. It is both bastion and battleground for husbands and wives. It is the vehicle that carries us from light, lucidity, and reason to a land of dreams and nightmares.
I refer, of course, to the bed.
This often unremarked piece of furniture is frequently a backdrop for literature and art. Indeed, in the fairy tale “The Princess and the Pea” and the classic “The Arabian Nights” the bed is center stage. In paintings from around the world, we find artists depicting sleepers, lovers, children, and the dying and the dead, each of them lying on a bed.
A Brief Look Back
The earliest humans were less concerned with a full 40 winks than with becoming a midnight snack for predators. Anthropologists speculate that these ancestors often made their resting places in the branches of trees.Gathering Places …
In many societies, bedrooms were often large shared spaces, even the sleeping quarters of kings. Poor families, for example, throughout the centuries fell asleep together in a single room, in part to save the costs of fuel. Moreover, for much of our history, cultures in many lands had a very different sense of privacy and communal living than we moderns do in our age of nuclear families and individuals living alone.
The epic poem “Beowulf,” for example, begins in a great hall, Heorot, and with a feast of meat and mead. King Hrothgar eventually takes his leave of the festivities, but the newly arrived Beowulf, his men, and the king’s retainers all bunk down in the hall, where Beowulf will that night do battle with the monster Grendel. Throughout the Middle Ages, it was not unusual for these great halls to perform this double service, with men slumbering on the same tables at which they had eaten.
… And Shared Spaces
Until after the Civil War, travel for many Americans also meant sharing rooms and sometimes the beds themselves with acquaintances or even strangers, a circumstance utterly foreign to today’s culture.
Rough Nights? It’s Not Just the Bed
In his short but delightful book “On Going to Bed,” novelist Anthony Burgess not only discusses the role of the bed in our culture but also brings us some colorful anecdotes about sleep: our dreams and night terrors, insomnia, somnambulism, and the sensation of sleeping in various types of beds from ship berths to army cots. Scores of images of beds and reproductions of famous paintings of scenes set around a bed enhance Burgess’s writing.
After a description of the elaborate beds of Egyptian Queen Hetep-Heres I and Tutankhamen, Burgess writes: “We may divine that kings and queens did not sleep any better on their ornate machines than peasants on their mud floors (Shakespeare is always going on about this), but the elaboration of a bed had nothing to do with somniference.”
The Slippery Definition of ‘Bed’
At the end of “On Going to Bed,” Burgess, despite writing such a book, tells his readers that he himself has not slept on a bed in his own house in years, but on a mattress on the floor. He has, he writes, a tendency to fall out of raised beds, plus he enjoys spreading around his mattress piles of books, “a tea-making apparatus,” a record player, and even a small refrigerator.Now for my own confession. For the last 18 months, I drift at night into a La-Z-Boy, a recliner tilted backward as far as possible. After my daughter and her family moved north for work and school, I in turn moved from the basement and bedded down on the first floor in this mechanical chair rather than establishing my quarters for sleep on the second floor. I feel more comfortable and secure knowing that I’d have access to three exits.
Does Burgess’s mattress qualify as a bed? Given that so many humans have spent their nights on mats or straw, it would certainly seem so. And the La-Z-Boy? Despite its silly name, I would say yes again. At any rate, like those cowboys who once claimed that months of stretching out on the ground made a feather bed impossible for sleep, I have come to prefer my somewhat cramped chair to the beds upstairs. To add a twist to an old adage, “I’ve made my non-bed and now must lie in it.”
As Burgess writes of his mattress: “This, being a place reserved for rest, sleep, love, writing, reading, listening to music, and other activities or non-activities which make no direct contribution to the wealth of the world, may well be considered to be a bed as we have so far, without tedium or definition, understood it.”
Perhaps, like our predecessors—the peasants who slept on dirt floors beneath thatched roofs or the nobles who snored in four-posters in manor houses—we might simply call a bed that place where we regularly lie down and seek respite in slumber.
And with that loose definition, good readers, I bid you good night. Sleep well.