- **Site**: BBC, BBC - **By**: [[Zaria Gorvett]] - **Date Published**: 2022-01-10T01:00:00Z, 2024-01-11T14:00:00Z - **Date Read**: [[2024-12-14]] - **[Read Original](https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20220107-the-lost-medieval-habit-of-biphasic-sleep)** - **Tags**: #History #Sleep **Note:** Below is the text from the article, with any ==highlights== done by me. None of the writing below is by me. # Article text  For millennia, people slept in two shifts – once in the evening, and once in the morning. But why? And how did the habit disappear? I It was around 23:00 on 13 April 1699, in a small village in the north of England. Nine-year-old Jane Rowth blinked her eyes open and squinted out into the moody evening shadows. She and her mother had just awoken from a short sleep. Mrs Rowth got up and went over to the fireside of their modest home, where she began smoking a pipe. Just then, two men appeared by the window. They called out and instructed her to get ready to go with them. As Jane later explained to a courtroom, her mother had evidently been expecting the visitors. She went with them freely – but first whispered to her daughter to "lye still, and shee would come againe in the morning". Perhaps Mrs Rowth had some nocturnal task to complete. Or maybe she was in trouble, and knew that leaving the house was a risk.  Either way, Jane's mother didn't get to keep her promise – she never returned home. That night, Mrs Rowth was brutally murdered, and her body was discovered in the following days. The crime was never solved. Nearly 300 years later, in the early 1990s, the historian [[A. Roger Ekirch]] walked through the arched entranceway to the Public Record Office in London – an imposing gothic building that housed the UK's National Archives from 1838 until 2003. There, among the endless rows of ancient vellum papers and manuscripts, he found Jane's testimony. And something about it struck him as odd.  Originally, Ekirch had been researching a book about the history of night-time, and at the time he had been looking through records that spanned the era between the early Middle Ages and the Industrial Revolution. He was dreading writing the chapter on sleep, thinking that it was not only a universal necessity – but a biological constant. He was sceptical that he'd find anything new.   So far, he had found court depositions particularly illuminating. "They're a wonderful source for social historians," says Ekirch, a professor at Virginia Tech, US. "They comment upon activity that's oftentimes unrelated to the crime itself." But as he read through Jane's criminal deposition, two words seemed to carry an echo of a particularly tantalising detail of life in the 17th Century, which he had never encountered before – "first sleep". "I can cite the original document almost verbatim," says Ekirch, whose exhilaration at his discovery is palpable even decades later.  In the Middle Ages, communal sleeping was entirely normal – travellers who had just met would share the same bed, as would masters and their servants (Credit: British Library) In her testimony, Jane describes how just before the men arrived at their home, she and her mother had arisen from their first sleep of the evening. There was no further explanation – the interrupted sleep was just stated matter-of-factly, as if it were entirely unremarkable. "She referred to it as though it was utterly normal," says Ekirch. A first sleep implies a second sleep – a night divided into two halves. Was this just a familial quirk, or something more? **An omnipresence** Over the coming months, Ekirch scoured the archives and found many more references to this mysterious phenomenon of double sleeping, or "biphasic sleep" as he later called it. Some were fairly banal, such as the mention by the weaver Jon Cokburne, who simply dropped it into his testimony incidentally. But others were darker, such as that of Luke Atkinson of the East Riding of Yorkshire. He managed to squeeze in an early morning murder between his sleeps one night – and according to his wife, often used the time to frequent other people's houses for sinister deeds. When Ekirch expanded his search to include online databases of other written records, it soon became clear the phenomenon was more widespread and normalised than he had ever imagined. For a start, first sleeps are mentioned in one of the most famous works of medieval literature, Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales (written between 1387 and 1400), which is presented as a storytelling contest between a group of pilgrims. They're also included in the poet William Baldwin's Beware the Cat (1561) – a satirical book considered by some to be the first ever novel, which centres around a man who learns to understand the language of a group of [terrifying supernatural cats](https://www.thegreatcat.org/cats-early-modern-period-literature-beware-cat-1570/), one of whom, Mouse-slayer, is on trial for promiscuity. But that's just the beginning. Ekirch found casual references to the system of twice-sleeping in every conceivable form, with hundreds in letters, diaries, medical textbooks, philosophical writings, newspaper articles and plays. The practice even made it into ballads, such as "Old Robin of Portingale. "…*And at the wakening of your first sleepe, You shall have a hot drink made, And at the wakening of your next sleepe, Your sorrows will have a slake*…" [[Biphasic sleep]] was not unique to England, either – it was widely practised throughout the preindustrial world. In France, the initial sleep was the "*premier somme*"; in Italy, it was "*primo sonno*". In fact, Eckirch found evidence of the habit in locations as distant as Africa, South and Southeast Asia, Australia, South America and the Middle East.  Like many Romans, the historian Livy may have been a practitioner of biphasic sleep – he alludes to the method in his magnum opus, The History of Rome (Credit: Alamy) One [colonial account](https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4763365/) from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in [[1555]] described how the Tupinambá people would eat dinner after their first sleep, while another – from 19th Century Muscat, Oman – explained that the local people would retire for their first sleep before 22:00. And far from being a peculiarity of the [[Middle Ages]], Ekirch began to suspect that the method had been the dominant way of sleeping for millennia – an ancient default that we inherited from our prehistoric ancestors. The first record Ekirch found was from the 8th Century BC, in the 12,109-line Greek epic The Odyssey, while the last hints of its existence dated to the early 20th Century, before it somehow slipped into oblivion. How did it work? Why did people do it? And how could something that was once so completely normal, have been forgotten so completely? **A spare moment** In the 17th Century, a night of sleep went [something like this](https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/At_Day_s_Close/bWDDZKG8DOMC?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover). From as early as 21:00 to 23:00, those fortunate enough to afford them would begin flopping onto mattresses stuffed with straw or rags – alternatively it might have contained feathers, if they were wealthy – ready to sleep for a couple of hours. (At the bottom of the social ladder, people would have to make do with nestling down on a scattering of heather or, worse, a bare earth floor – possibly even without a blanket.) At the time, most people slept communally, and often found themselves snuggled up with a cosy assortment of bedbugs, fleas, lice, family members, friends, servants and – if they were travelling – total strangers. To minimise any awkwardness, sleep involved a number of strict social conventions, such as avoiding physical contact or too much fidgeting, and there were [designated sleeping positions](https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/At_Day_s_Close/bWDDZKG8DOMC?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover). For example, female children would typically lie at one side of the bed, with the oldest nearest the wall, followed by the mother and father, then male children – again arranged by age – then non-family members. A couple of hours later, people would begin rousing from this initial slumber. The night-time wakefulness usually lasted from around 23:00 to about 01:00, depending on what time they went to bed. It was not generally caused by noise or other disturbances in the night – and neither was it initiated by any kind of alarm (these were only invented in 1787, by an American man who – somewhat ironically – needed to [wake up on time](https://iopscience.iop.org/article/10.1088/1757-899X/160/1/012101/meta) to sell clocks). Instead, the waking happened entirely naturally, just as it does in the morning. The period of wakefulness that followed was known as "the watch" – and it was a surprisingly useful window in which to get things done. "\[The records\] describe how people did just about anything and everything after they awakened from their first sleep," says Ekirch. ![Communal sleeping meant that people usually had someone to chat with when they woke up for "the watch" (Credit: Getty Images)](https://ychef.files.bbci.co.uk/976x549/p0bfytvc.jpg "Communal sleeping meant that people usually had someone to chat with when they woke up for "the watch" (Credit: Getty Images)") Communal sleeping meant that people usually had someone to chat with when they woke up for "the watch" (Credit: Getty Images) Under the weak glow of the [Moon, stars](https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4763365/), and oil lamps or "rush lights" – a kind of candle for ordinary households, made from the waxed stems of rushes – people would tend to ordinary tasks, such as adding wood to the fire, taking remedies, or going to urinate (often into the fire itself). For peasants, waking up meant getting back down to more serious work – whether this involved venturing out to check on farm animals or carrying out household chores, such as patching cloth, combing wool or peeling the rushes to be burned. One servant Ekirch came across even brewed a batch of beer for her Westmorland employer one night, between midnight and 02:00. Naturally, criminals took the opportunity to skulk around and make trouble – like the murderer in Yorkshire. But the watch was also a time for religion.   For Christians, there were elaborate prayers to be completed, with specific ones prescribed for this exact parcel of time. One father called it the most "profitable" hour, when – after digesting your dinner and casting off the labours of the world – "no one will look for you except for God”. Those of a philosophical disposition, meanwhile, might use the watch as a peaceful moment to ruminate on life and ponder new ideas. In the late 18th Century, a London tradesman even invented a special device for remembering all your most searing nightly insights – a "nocturnal remembrancer", which consisted of an enclosed pad of parchment with a horizontal opening that could be used as a writing guide.   But most of all, the watch was useful for socialising – and for sex. As Ekirch explains in his book, [At Day's Close: A History of Nighttime](https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/At_Day_s_Close/bWDDZKG8DOMC?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover), people would often just stay in bed and chat. And during those strange twilight hours, bedfellows could share a level of informality and casual conversation that was hard to achieve during the day. For husbands and wives who managed to navigate the logistics of sharing a bed with others, it was also a convenient interval for physical intimacy – if they'd had a long day of manual labour, the first sleep took the edge off their exhaustion and the period afterwards was thought to be an excellent time to conceive copious numbers of children. Once people had been awake for a couple of hours, they'd usually head back to bed. This next step was considered a "morning" sleep and might last until dawn, or later. Just as today, when people finally woke up for good depended on what time they went to bed.  The Public Record Office was home to thousands of criminal depositions from the medieval era, which are now kept at The National Archives in Kew (Credit: Getty Images) **An ancient adaptation** According to Ekirch, there are references to the system of sleeping twice peppered throughout the classical era, suggesting that it was already common then. It's casually dropped into works by such illustrious figures as the Greek biographer Plutarch (from the First Century AD), the Greek traveller Pausanias (from the Second Century AD), the Roman historian Livy and the Roman poet Virgil. Later, the practise was embraced by Christians, who immediately saw the watch's potential as an opportunity for the recital of psalms and confessions. In the Sixth Century AD, Saint Benedict required that monks [rise at midnight](https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/At_Day_s_Close/bWDDZKG8DOMC?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover) for these activities, and the idea eventually spread throughout Europe – gradually filtering through to the masses.         But humans aren't the only animals to discover the benefits of dividing up sleep – it's widespread in the natural world, with many species resting in two or even [several separate stretches](https://www.sleepfoundation.org/animals-and-sleep). This helps them to remain active at the most beneficial times of day, such as when they're most likely to find food while avoiding ending up as a snack themselves.  One example is the ring-tailed lemur. These iconic Madagascan primates, with their spooky red eyes and upright black-and-white tails, have remarkably similar sleeping patterns to preindustrial humans – they're "cathemeral", meaning they're up at night and during the day. "There are broad swaths of variability among primates, in terms of how they distribute their activity throughout the 24-hour period," says David Samson, director of the sleep and human evolution laboratory at the University of Toronto Mississauga, Canada. And if double-sleeping is natural for some lemurs, he wondered: might it be the way we evolved to sleep too?  Ekirch had long been harbouring the same hunch. But for decades, there was nothing concrete to prove this – or to illuminate why it might have vanished. Then back 1995, Ekirch was doing some online reading late one night when he found an article in the New York Times about a [sleep experiment](https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1365-2869.1992.tb00019.x) from a few years before. The research was conducted by Thomas Wehr, a sleep scientist from the National Institute of Mental Health, and involved 15 men. After an initial week of observing their normal sleeping patterns, they were deprived of artificial illumination at night to shorten their hours of "daylight" – whether naturally or electrically generated – from the usual 16 hours to just 10. The rest of the time, they were confined to a bedroom with no lights or windows, and fully enveloped in its velvety blackness. They weren't allowed to play music or exercise – and were nudged towards resting and sleeping instead.  Ekirch wonders if today people might remember fewer dreams than our ancestors did, because it's less common to wake up in the middle of the night (Credit: Alamy) At the start of the experiment, the men all had normal nocturnal habits – they slept in one continuous shift that lasted from the late evening until the morning. Then something incredible happened. After four weeks of the 10-hour days, their sleeping patterns had been transformed – they no longer slept in one stretch, but in two halves roughly the same length. These were punctuated by a one-to-three-hour period in which they were awake. Measurements of the sleep hormone melatonin showed that their circadian rhythms had adjusted too, so their sleep was altered at a biological level. Wehr had reinvented biphasic sleep. "It \[reading about the experiment\] was, apart from my wedding and the birth of my children, probably the most exciting moment in my life," says Ekirch. When he emailed Wehr to explain the extraordinary match between his own historical research, and the scientific study, "I think I can tell you that he was every bit as exhilarated as I was," he says.  For much of human history, those who couldn't afford a bed had to sleep on straw or other dried vegetation (Credit: Getty Images) More recently, Samson's own research has backed up these findings – with an exciting twist. Back in 2015, together with collaborators from a number of other universities, Samson recruited local volunteers from the [remote community of Manadena in northeastern Madagascar](https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/ajhb.22979) for a study. The location is a large village that backs on to a national park – and there is no infrastructure for electricity, so nights are almost as dark as they would have been for millennia. The participants, who were mostly farmers, were asked to wear an "actimeter" – a sophisticated activity-sensing device that can be used to track sleep cycles – for 10 days, to track their sleep patterns. "What we found was that \[in those without artificial light\], there was a period of activity right after midnight until about 01:00-01:30 in the morning," says Samson, "and then it would drop back to sleep and to inactivity until they woke up at 06:00, usually coinciding with the rising of the Sun." As it turns out, biphasic sleep never vanished entirely – it lives on in pockets of the world today. **A new social pressure**  Collectively, this research has also given Ekirch the explanation he had been craving for why much of humanity abandoned the two-sleep system, starting from the early 19th Century. As with other recent shifts in our behaviour, such as a move towards [depending on clock-time](https://www.open.edu/openlearn/history-the-arts/history/history-science-technology-and-medicine/history-technology/the-industrial-revolution-and-time), the answer was the Industrial Revolution.  In the 17th Century, wealthy elites usually slept in four-poster wooden beds with curtains, to keep the occupant warmer and exclude the prying eyes of visitors (Credit: Alamy) "Artificial illumination became more prevalent, and more powerful – first there was gas \[lighting\], which was introduced for the first time ever in London," says Ekirch, "and then, of course, electric lighting toward the end of the century. And in addition to altering people's circadian rhythms. artificial illumination also naturally allowed people to stay up later." However, though people weren't going to bed at 21:00 anymore, they still had to wake up at the same time in the morning – so their rest was truncated. Ekirch believes that this made their sleep deeper, because it was compressed. As well as altering the population's circadian rhythms, the artificial lighting lengthened the first sleep, and shortened the second. "And I was able to trace \[this\], almost decade by decade, over the course of the 19th Century," says Ekirch. (Intriguingly, Samson's study in Madagascar involved a second part – in which half the participants were given artificial lights for a week, to see if they made any difference. And this case, the researchers found that it had no impact on their segmented sleep patterns. However, the researchers point out that a week may not be long enough for artificial lights to lead to major changes. So the mystery continues…) Even if artificial lighting was not fully to blame, by the end of the 20th Century, the division between the two sleeps had completely disappeared – the Industrial Revolution hadn't just changed our technology, but our biology, too. **A new anxiety** One major side-effect of much of humanity's shift in sleeping habits has been a change in attitudes. For one thing, we quickly began shaming [those who oversleep](https://ottawacitizen.com/health/the-history-of-insomnia-when-waking-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-was-completely-normal), and developed a preoccupation with the link between waking up early and being productive. "But for me, the most gratifying aspect of all this," says Ekert, "relates to those who suffer from middle-of-the-night insomnia." He explains that our sleeping patterns are now so altered, any wakefulness in the middle of the night can lead us to panic. "I don't mean to make light of that – indeed, I suffer from sleep disorders myself, actually. And I take medication for it… " But when people learn that this may have been entirely normal for millennia, he finds that it lessens their anxiety somewhat.   However, before Ekirch's research spawns a spin off of the Paleo diet, and people start throwing away their lamps – or worse, artificially splitting their sleep in two with alarm clocks – he's keen to stress that the abandonment of the two-sleep system does not mean the quality of our slumber today is worse. Despite near-constant headlines about the prevalence of sleep problems, Ekirch has previously argued that, in some ways, the 21st Century is a [golden age](https://www.huffpost.com/entry/my-q-and-a-with-roger-ekirch_b_7649554) for sleep – a time when most of us no longer have to worry about being murdered in our beds, freezing to death, or flicking off lice, when we can slumber without pain, the threat of fire, or having strangers snuggled up next to us. In short, single periods of slumber might not be "natural". And yet, neither are fancy ergonomic mattresses or modern hygiene. "More seriously, there's no going back because conditions have changed," says Ekirch.  So, we may be missing out on confidential midnight chats in bed, psychedelic dreams, and night-time philosophical revelations – but at least we won't wake up covered in angry red bites. *\* The image of [The Dream of the Magi](http://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/onlineex/illmanus/roymanucoll/t/largeimage76571.html) is used with the kind permission of the British Library, where it forms part of their Catalogue of Illuminated Manuscripts.* *\--* *If you liked this story,* [*sign up for The Essential List newsletter*](https://cloud.email.bbc.com/SignUp10_08?&at_bbc_team=studios&at_medium=Onsite&at_objective=acquisition&at_ptr_name=bbc.com&at_link_origin=featuresarticle&at_campaign=essentiallist&at_campaign_type=owned) *– a handpicked selection of features, videos and can't-miss news, delivered to your inbox twice a week.*  *For more science, technology, environment and health stories from the BBC, follow us on [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/BBCFuture/), [X](https://x.com/BBC_Future) and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/bbcfuture_official/).* ; ## The lost ancient practice of communal sleep (Image credit: Getty Images)  Until the mid-19th Century, it was completely normal to share a bed with friends, colleagues and even total strangers. How did people cope? And why did we stop? I In 1187, a medieval prince slipped into his grand wooden bed, accompanied by a new companion. With a thick mane of auburn hair and [strapping frame](https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/Lionheart_and_Lackland/-lyiNj3Z6J0C?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover), Richard the Lionheart was the ultimate macho warrior, renowned for his formidable [leadership on the battlefield](https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Richard_the_Lionheart.html?id=5JOXQgAACAAJ&source=kp_book_description&redir_esc=y) and knightly conduct. Now he had formed an unexpected friendship with a former enemy – Philip II, who ruled over France from 1180 to 1223. Initially, the two royals had forged a purely pragmatic alliance. But after spending more time together, eating at the same table and even [out of the same dish](https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/The_Annals_of_Roger_de_Hoveden.html?id=fjEIAAAAQAAJ&redir_esc=y), they had become close friends. To cement the [special relationship](https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Richard_I.html?id=1Q4lh8KLi1YC&redir_esc=y) between themselves and their two countries, they agreed to a peace treaty – and slept alongside each other, [in the same bed](https://olh.openlibhums.org/article/id/9349/). Despite the modern connotations of two men sharing a bed, at the time this was entirely [unremarkable](https://rsj.winchester.ac.uk/articles/10.21039/rsj.340) – appearing almost as a casual aside in a [contemporary chronicle](https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/The_Annals_of_Roger_de_Hoveden.html?id=fjEIAAAAQAAJ&redir_esc=y) on the history of England. Long before the expectation of night-time privacy or more recent ideas about manliness, many historians view the two royals' nightly partnership as a sign of [trust and brotherhood](https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/medieval-masculinity-richard-i-philip-ii/). This is the forgotten ancient practice of communal sleep. For thousands of years, [it was completely normal](https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20220107-the-lost-medieval-habit-of-biphasic-sleep) to flop down in bed each night alongside friends, colleagues, relatives – including the entire extended family – or travelling pedlars. When on the road, people routinely found themselves lying next to total strangers. If they were unlucky, this outsider might come with an overwhelming stench, deafening snoring – or worse, a preference for sleeping naked. Sometimes, "social sleeping" was simply a pragmatic solution to a shortage of beds, which were highly valuable pieces of furniture. But even the nobility actively sought out bedfellows for the [unparallelled intimacy](https://books.google.com/books/about/At_Day_s_Close.html?id=bWDDZKG8DOMC&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1) of night-time chats in the darkness, as well as warmth and a feeling of security. How did people navigate a night of communal sleeping? And why did this ancient practice stop?  In the medieval era, the Biblical Magi – the Three Wise Men from the Christian Bible – were often depicted sleeping in the same bed (Credit: British Library) **An ancient tradition** In 2011, a team of archaeologists uncovered an unusually well-preserved layer of prehistoric sediment at Sibudu Cave, South Africa. It contained the fossilised remains of leaves from the forest tree *Cryptocarya woodie,* which formed the "top sheet" of a foliage [mattress](https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/science.1213317) constructed in the Stone Age, some 77,000 years ago. As project leader Lyn Wadley speculated at the time, the mattress may have been large enough for a whole family group. Direct evidence for communal sleep is hard to come by, but it's thought that this practice is [truly ancient](https://books.google.com/books/about/What_We_Did_in_Bed.html?id=SpKsDwAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1) – in fact, from a historical perspective, the modern preference for sleeping alone and in private is [deeply weird](https://books.google.com/books/about/What_We_Did_in_Bed.html?id=SpKsDwAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1). After a brief lapse in antiquity, during which even married members of the upper classes [slept alone](https://helda.helsinki.fi/items/0c866a3e-506e-462f-bea8-84642e8e97e7), the practice made it through the medieval age more or less intact.   However, records of this activity are most abundant in the early modern period – roughly from 1500 to 1800. In this era, bedsharing was extremely common. "For most people, with the exclusion of aristocrats and well-to-do merchants, as well as some members of the landed gentry, it would have been unusual not to have had a bedmate," says Roger Ekirch, a university distinguished professor of history at Virginia Tech, Virginia, and the author of [At Day's Close: A History of Nighttime](https://books.google.com/books/about/At_Day_s_Close.html?id=bWDDZKG8DOMC&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1). Apart from anything else, the vast majority of households had too few beds for private sleeping, says Sasha Handley, a professor of early modern history at the University of Manchester and the author of the book [Sleep in Early Modern England](https://books.google.com/books/about/Sleep_in_Early_Modern_England.html?id=Z-S7DAAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1). "Even for the middle and upper classes when they're traveling, which is a lot of the time, they're obviously forced to spend time in lodging houses and inns and taverns, where sharing a bed is a pretty common practice," says Handley.  Around 1590, a small Hertfordshire town became famous for the Great Bed of Ware, acquired for the White Hart Inn. This formidable piece of oak furniture – measuring [2.7m high (9ft), 3.3m wide (11ft) and 3.4m (11ft) deep](https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/great-bed-of-ware) – features elaborate carvings of lions and satyrs draped in almost theatrical hangings of red and yellow. It would have been available for travellers to share. According to legend, [26 butchers and their wives](https://www.vam.ac.uk/articles/100-facts-about-the-va) – a total of 52 people – slept there together in 1689 for a bet. Sharing a bed did not have the same sexual connotations that it does today. In the medieval era, the Three Wise Men from the Christian bible were often depicted sleeping together – [sometimes nude, or even spooning](https://notchesblog.com/2014/01/06/three-wise-men-in-a-bed-bedsharing-and-sexuality-in-medieval-europe/) – and experts contend that any suggestion they were engaging in carnal acts would have [been absurd](https://notchesblog.com/2014/01/06/three-wise-men-in-a-bed-bedsharing-and-sexuality-in-medieval-europe/).  From the mid-19th Century, communal sleeping went into gradual decline in the Western world (Credit: Getty Images) Sociable sleeping was so desirable, it even transcended the usual barriers of social class. There are numerous historical accounts of people bunking down each night with [their inferiors or superiors](https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/Sleep_in_Early_Modern_England/Z-S7DAAAQBAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover) – such masters and their apprentices, domestic helpers and their employers, or royalty and their subjects. In 1784, a [parson](https://www.google.co.uk/books/edition/The_Diary_of_a_Country_Parson_1758_1802/Yx8oFCcVxl8C?hl=en&gbpv=1&printsec=frontcover) wrote in his diary that a visitor had specifically requested to sleep next to his servant. Night-time tussles over blankets and hours of strange bodily noises tended to afford a certain equality that didn't exist outside of the bedroom. **A better night's sleep** One of the most detailed records of communal sleep can be found within the diaries of Samuel Pepys , which provide a portal to life in the 17th Century. Their pages – which he had bound into hardback volumes for posterity – can still be found on the oak shelves of his [library in Cambridge, UK](https://www.magd.cam.ac.uk/pepys/building) to this day. Pepys wrote in them nearly every day for nine years, starting in 1660. In addition to the minutiae of daily life and frequent lewd descriptions of womanising, the diary records just how often he slept in the same bed as friends, colleagues, and perfect strangers. And they reveal the many nuances of successful – and unsuccessful – bedsharing. On one occasion in Portsmouth, Pepys went to bed with a doctor who he worked with at the Royal Society in London. In addition to lying "[very well and merrily](https://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/1662/04/23/)" together, presumably talking late into the night, the doctor had the added advantage of being peculiarly delicious to fleas, who consequently left Pepys alone. (It's also been speculated that the pests [didn't like his blood](https://www.rmg.co.uk/stories/blog/curatorial/god-preserve-us-all-samuel-pepys-great-plague) – and perhaps this helped him to avoid catching the plague.) Tucked up under several layers of blankets, with their nightcaps resting on their heads, Ekirch explains that well-suited bedfellows might exchange stories well into the early morning – perhaps even waking to analyse their dreams between their first and second sleeps. (*Learn more about [the forgotten medieval habit of biphasic sleep](https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20220107-the-lost-medieval-habit-of-biphasic-sleep).*) These hours spent chatting in the blackness of night helped to strengthen social bonds and provided a private space to exchange secrets. Handley cites the example of Sarah Hirst, a young gentlewoman and tailor's daughter, who had several favourite sleeping partners for whom she developed great affection. When one of her regular bed mates died, she wrote a poem expressing her grief.  The Great Bed of Ware – reputedly big enough for four couples to share – was a popular tourist attraction for centuries, and even referenced by Shakespeare (Credit: Alamy) Though she had many beds at her disposal, it's thought that Queen Elizabeth I [never slept alone](https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=Ytw_AQAAQBAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA1&dq=elizabeth+I+never+slept+alone+bedfellow&ots=2n4Vfz37v5&sig=yVVq1PD7xqDXgPj7ndxSxTeFm4U) once during her 44-year reign. Each night, she retreated to her bedchamber with one of her trusted attendants, with whom she would unburden herself and dissect the day's activity at court. These women also provided her with protection. As the historian Anna Whitelock explains in the book [The Queen's Bed: An Intimate History of Elizabeth's Court](https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/The_Queen_s_Bed.html?id=9bNRAQAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y), intrusions from men weren't unheard of – such as in the queen's younger years, when [the man who married her stepmother would burst in](https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/resources/elizabeth-monarchy/princess-elizabeth-to-dowager-queen-katherine/) and slap her on the buttocks. These incidents had the power to be particularly damaging, because she needed to protect her virginity. **A matter of etiquette** In an era where bedsharing was utterly routine and often unavoidable, it was helpful for people to follow proper etiquette to ensure that everyone had a comfortable night's sleep – and avoid fights from breaking out in the night. Bedfellows were expected to [avoid talking excessively](https://books.google.com/books/about/At_Day_s_Close.html?id=bWDDZKG8DOMC&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1), respect one another's personal space, and avoid fidgeting. But things clearly didn't always go to plan. Late at night on 9 September 1776, two US Founding Fathers – Benjamin Franklin and John Adams  –  found themselves in the midst of a fierce debate while sharing a room, and a bed, at an inn in New Brunswick. The discussion had started when Adams went to close the window. "'Oh!’ says Franklin, 'don't shut the window. We shall be suffocated.' I answered \[that\] I was afraid of the evening air," Adams later recalled in his diary. Franklin thus began a long rant about his new theory of colds, which he believed (correctly) were not caught from cool fresh air, but by recycling old air in a stuffy room. Adams was "so much amused" by this unexpected lecture that he promptly [fell asleep](https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/01-03-02-0016-0187).  Such was the problem of dealing with unruly bedfellows that one French phrase book from the early modern era provided English travellers with a few choice words with which to [lambast their sleeping companion](https://books.google.com/books/about/At_Day_s_Close.html?id=MmltPgAACAAJ). The volume, which Ekirch discovered while researching his book, suggested translations for: "you do nothing but kick about", "you pull all the bedclothes", and "you are an ill bedfellow".  During the nine years in which Samuel Pepys was writing his diary, he often shared a bed when travelling or visiting friends (Credit: Alamy) "There are lots of quite fun anecdotes I came across where people ranked the quality of their co-sleepers by their ability to tell a good story, or not to snore," says Handley. She cites one example of a disgruntled schoolmaster who compared his bedfellow – a rector – to a pig, after he went to bed drunk and made a "hideous noise". Pepys had a few [run-ins with his bedmates](https://books.google.com/books/about/Sleep_in_Early_Modern_England.html?id=Z-S7DAAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1), one of whom he kicked out of bed after they "fell to play with one another", causing him to complain that he had to [lay alone all night](https://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/1660/08/15/). But there were also conventions which aimed to avoid more serious consequences. In most circumstances, it was unusual for unmarried men and women to share a bed with someone outside their own family. When it did happen, there were attempts to minimise the risks. Ekirch came across one observer's account of the [strict arrangement of sleeping positions](https://books.google.com/books/about/At_Day_s_Close.html?id=bWDDZKG8DOMC&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1) at an Irish household in the early 19th Century. The eldest daughter aways slept next to the wall farthest from the door, followed by her sisters in descending age order, then the mother, father, and sons, also in age order. Finally, strangers "whether the travelling pedlar or tailor or beggar", would sleep at the end, where they were farthest away from the female family members. This practice was known as “to pig”. There were also cases where male and female domestic workers were required to sleep together due to a bed shortage. "It was a common belief and source of humour – at least for those whose servants were not involved – that this sometimes resulted in pregnancies," says Ekirch. When sharing with strangers, there was the ever-present risk of sexual violence or murder. In the opening chapter of the 1851 novel Moby Dick, the main character is alarmed to discover that the only bed available at an inn would require sleeping with a mysterious – and possibly dangerous – whale harpooner who was in town to sell some shrunken heads. And there were other, less appealing sides to communal sleep. For all the romance of confidential chats in the dark, and the mutual affection bedfellows developed after years of sharing physical warmth, many shared beds were hotbeds of pests and disease. With so many people crammed onto the same mattress – many of which provided ideal hiding places for insects – they often became infested with fleas, lice or bedbugs.  For nearly a century until the 1950s, many married couples chose to sleep in twin beds rather than sharing (Credit: Alamy) Sometimes, sleepers were overcome with the disgusting, overwhelming smells from unwashed bedfellows, ancient bedding and used chamber pots. In one incident Ekirch uncovered, two women accused each other of causing a foul stink, until they realised there was a toilet at the head of their beds. **A gradual decline** By the mid-19th Century, bedsharing began to fall out of fashion – even for married couples. It all began with an influential American physician. William Whitty Hall, who had strong opinions on many subjects, became a passionate advocate of the idea that communal sleep was not only unwise – but "[unnatural and degenerative](https://books.google.com/books/about/Sleep.html?id=f09HAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1)". In his book, [Sleep](https://books.google.com/books/about/Sleep.html?id=f09HAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1), published in 1861, Hall invoked a similar argument to Benjamin Franklin in his tussle over the inn windows: the air in a room occupied by more than one sleeper can quickly become polluted. Moreover, he contented, "it is lowering, because it diminishes that mutual consideration and respect which ought to prevail in social life". Thus, sleeping in the same bed as a companion was not just unhygienic and unhealthy – it was immoral. He even went so far as to suggest it brought people closest to the "vilest" animals in the animal kingdom. Those elderly couples who had survived the great perils of bedsharing for decades of married life had simply been lucky, he suggested. As the historian Hilary Hinds explains in the book [A Cultural History of Twin Beds](https://books.google.com/books/about/A_Cultural_History_of_Twin_Beds.html?id=nUQHEAAAQBAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=kp_read_button&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=1), this marked the beginning of the rise of individualist sleeping. Families began to abandon the ancient practice of communal sleep – and for nearly a century, many married couples slept apart, in twin beds. This was only reversed in the 1950s, when people began to view separate beds as a sign of a failing marriage. But social sleeping never returned with its previous popularity in other contexts. So, are we missing out? Should modern politicians swap the photo-opportunity handshake for a symbolic night's sleep, like Richard the Lionheart and Philip II? Or would tourists benefit from sharing a bed with total strangers, as historical travellers did? "I think people tend to sleep much better when they're sleeping alone for all kinds of reasons… Once you get past the kind of the psychological comfort that sharing beds can bring you, most people benefit from having a sleeping environment that they can fashion for their own bespoke needs," says Handley. *\* This article has been updated to clarify that it was the husband of Katherine Parr, Queen Elizabeth I's stepmother, who would burst into the young Queen's bedroom.* \-- *If you liked this story,* [*sign up for The Essential List newsletter*](https://cloud.email.bbc.com/SignUp10_08?&at_bbc_team=studios&at_medium=Onsite&at_objective=acquisition&at_ptr_name=bbc.com&at_link_origin=featuresarticle&at_campaign=essentiallist&at_campaign_type=owned) *– a handpicked selection of features, videos and can't-miss news delivered to your inbox every Friday.* *Join one million Future fans by liking us on* [*Facebook*](https://www.facebook.com/BBCFuture/)*, or follow us on* [*Twitter*](https://twitter.com/BBC_Future) *or* [*Instagram*](https://www.instagram.com/bbcfuture_official/)*.* ;