A hole in the wall with a view to the sea
On the windswept coastlines of Europe, many medieval castles still stand as silent witnesses of a bygone age. Their towers and walls speak of battles, sieges, and noble courts, yet tucked away within the stonework lies an often-overlooked feature: the garderobe, the medieval toilet. At first glance, it seems crude—simply a hole carved into stone, sometimes extending out in a wooden shaft, dropping waste into the moat, the earth, or, as in the case of coastal fortresses, directly into the sea. Yet, in its simplicity lies remarkable ingenuity. The sea would wash away human waste, creating a natural sanitation system long before modern plumbing was even conceived.

Origins and design
The garderobe emerged in the early medieval period, around the 12th century, when castles began to grow in scale and complexity. These toilets were strategically placed on the outer walls of towers or keeps, ensuring that waste would fall outside the living quarters. Some garderobes emptied into cesspits or ditches, while others, especially in castles by the sea, emptied directly into the waves. The design was functional but also surprisingly thoughtful: garderobes were often narrow stone chambers with small seats or slabs featuring a circular hole, sometimes with multiple “stalls” for communal use. In many cases, they were situated along windy walls, allowing air circulation to reduce odors.

Garderobe and daily life
For the inhabitants of castles—nobles, knights, guards, and servants—the garderobe was a necessity of daily life. While banquets, hunts, and courtly rituals dominate our romanticized vision of medieval life, the reality of human existence required practical solutions. The garderobe, though humble, represented a step toward more hygienic living conditions compared to open defecation. Still, the standards of cleanliness were far from what we expect today. Waste pits often needed to be cleaned manually, a task given to the lowest-ranking servants or laborers. Diseases such as dysentery, cholera, and parasites were common, underscoring the precarious relationship between medieval societies and sanitation.

A symbol of social hierarchy
Interestingly, not all garderobes were equal. The nobles often had private garderobes within their chambers, while soldiers and servants shared communal facilities. In grand castles, garderobes might be decorated, with wooden seats and stone ledges, while in humbler keeps, they were little more than rough holes. This division reflected the broader medieval hierarchy: even in basic human functions, privilege and status shaped experience. A king or lord might relieve himself in relative privacy with a view of the sea, while his garrison endured cramped, smelly chambers. Sanitation, like feasting or clothing, became another marker of class.

Clothing and the “garderobe” connection
The word “garderobe” itself is fascinating. In Old French, it literally means “wardrobe” or “room to guard robes.” Why the connection between clothing and toilets? Historians suggest that garderobes often doubled as storage rooms for garments, since the pungent ammonia from human waste could repel lice, moths, and other pests. Thus, the very air of the garderobe acted as a crude form of fumigation. This dual use highlights the resourcefulness of medieval life, where spaces and functions overlapped in unexpected ways.

Sieges, war, and vulnerability
In times of siege, garderobes could become both a lifeline and a weakness. On one hand, they allowed inhabitants to maintain some level of sanitation when trapped within walls for months. On the other hand, attackers sometimes exploited garderobes as entry points, climbing through shafts to infiltrate castles. This vulnerability even gave rise to the military tactic of “sapping the garderobe.” Fortification architects, aware of this risk, later designed more secure waste chutes or located garderobes above sheer cliffs, inaccessible to enemies.

Comparison with common people
While castles boasted garderobes, the majority of medieval people lived in villages and towns where sanitation was far more primitive. In rural communities, open pits or simple wooden privies sufficed, while in cities, chamber pots were emptied directly into the streets, leading to foul-smelling, disease-ridden environments. In London, for instance, laws against throwing waste from windows were often ignored, creating hazardous conditions. By comparison, the garderobe of a castle—despite its simplicity—represented a relative luxury: privacy, structure, and the natural flushing of tides or moats. This contrast again highlights the deep divide between the lives of nobles and peasants.

The slow march toward modern plumbing
The garderobe remained a fixture of castles until the late medieval period, gradually evolving into more sophisticated latrine systems in monasteries, palaces, and later Renaissance estates. Yet the leap to modern plumbing, with running water and sewage systems, would not occur until the 16th to 18th centuries, and only widely in the 19th century. In this sense, the garderobe was a transitional invention—a step between the wilderness and the flush toilet, bridging ancient necessity with future innovation.

Legacy and fascination today
Today, preserved garderobes intrigue both historians and tourists. They remind us that medieval life, though often romanticized, was grounded in the same human needs we face today. To peer through the hole of a stone garderobe, with waves crashing below, is to experience a strange intimacy with the past. It is humbling to realize that knights and kings, queens and soldiers, all paused in these tiny chambers to perform the most basic act of life. Beyond castles, the study of garderobes offers valuable insight into medieval architecture, health, and social history. They reveal how people adapted to their environments, how necessity shaped innovation, and how even in fortresses designed for war, the rhythms of everyday life endured.

Conclusion: necessity and ingenuity
The garderobe of medieval castles was far more than a hole in the wall. It was a solution born of necessity, an example of medieval engineering that balanced practicality with the constraints of stone and mortar. It reflected social hierarchies, architectural ingenuity, and the ever-present tension between survival and comfort. Above all, it reminds us that history is not only written in battles and treaties but also in the quiet, humble spaces where people lived, loved, and relieved themselves. To study garderobes is to encounter medieval humanity in its most intimate and unfiltered form—a reminder that across centuries, despite grandeur or poverty, the human condition remains profoundly the same.