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                                  THE
                                BAYEUX
                               TAPESTRY
                              ELUCIDATED

                        JOHN COLLINGWOOD BRUCE,
                             LL.D., F.S.A.

                       LONDON, J. RUSSELL SMITH.

                      [Illustration: PLATE XVII.]

                                  THE
                            BAYEUX TAPESTRY

                              ELUCIDATED.

                                  BY

              REV. JOHN COLLINGWOOD BRUCE, LL.D., F.S.A.,

    CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES OF SCOTLAND,
     OF THE IMPERIAL SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES OF FRANCE, AND OF THE
       SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES OF NORMANDY; ONE OF THE COUNCIL OF
         THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES OF NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE; AN
         HONORARY MEMBER OF THE SURREY ARCHÆOLOGICAL SOCIETY;
             AND ONE OF THE COMMITTEE OF THE LITERARY AND
             PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY OF NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE.

              “ ...They burning both with fervent fire
              Their countrey’s auncestry to understond.”
                                  _Spenser._

                                LONDON:
                 JOHN RUSSELL SMITH, 36, SOHO SQUARE.

                              M.DCCC.LVI.

                         NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE:
           PRINTED BY J. G. FORSTER AND CO., CLAYTON STREET.

[Illustration: The Most Noble ELEANOR DUCHESS of NORTHUMBERLAND lineally
descended from a distinguished Companion of William of Normandy in the
Conquest of England This Work illustrative of the Title and Triumphs of
the Conqueror is with her Grace’s kind permission most dutifully &
gratefully inscribed.]

PREFACE.

England has performed, and is probably destined yet to perform, an
important part in the history of nations. The era treated of in this
work was doubtless the crisis of her fate. Happily, she survived the
shock of the Conquest, and was benefited by its rough discipline. All
true-hearted Englishmen must read with peculiar feeling this portion of
our country’s annals. Surrounding nations, too, have their share of
interest in it. When the Society of Antiquaries published the beautiful
copy of the Bayeux Tapestry, made, at their request, by Mr. Charles
Stothard, they testified the importance which they attached to the
document. As yet they have published no explanation of it. The world
still expects it at their hands. To supply, meanwhile, some little
assistance to the student of history, this work is published. It was
suggested by a holiday ramble in Normandy, amidst the scenes rendered
famous by the career of William the Conqueror. The plates have been
carefully reduced from those published by the Society of Antiquaries, by
Mr. Mossman, and printed in colours by the Messrs. Lambert, of
Newcastle-upon-Tyne. These gentlemen, and the Printers, have spared no
pains to render the volume creditable to the local press. In addition to
the authorities cited in the course of the work, _La Tapisserie de
Bayeux, édition variorum, par M. Achille Jubinal_, has been continually
before the eye of the writer.

_Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 13th of October, 1855,
    (Eve of the Anniversary of the Battle of Hastings.)_

THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY.

I. THE ROLL.

    “_There she weaves, by night and day,_
     _A magic web with colours gay._”

                       _Tennyson._

Master Wace, to whom we are indebted for “the most minute, graphic, and
animated account of the transactions”[1] of the Norman Conquest, thus
exalts the art of the chronicler--“All things hasten to decay; all fall;
all perish; all come to an end. Man dieth, iron consumeth, wood
decayeth; towers crumble, strong walls fall down, the rose withereth
away; the war-horse waxeth feeble, gay trappings grow old; all the works
of men perish. Thus we are taught that all die, both clerk and lay; and
short would be the fame of any after death if their history did not
endure by being written in the book of the clerk.”[2]

The pen of the writer of romance is not the only implement which confers
immortality upon man. The chisel of the sculptor, the pencil of the
painter, and the needle of the high-born dame, can confer a lasting
renown upon those whose deeds are worthy of being remembered. The work
which we are about to consider was effected by the simplest of these
implements--the needle.

One of the earliest modes of transmitting the history of important
transactions to posterity was by recording them in long lines of
pictorial representation. In the temples of Nimroud, in the sepulchres
of Egypt, in the sculptures which entwine the columns of Trajan and
Antonine at Rome, we have familiar examples of the practice. The Bayeux
record is a large roll of historic drawings rather than a piece of
tapestry; and it is remarkable as being the last example of this species
of representation which antiquity has handed down to us.

In the days of the Conqueror, and of some of his Saxon predecessors, the
ladies of Engle-land were famous for their taste and skill in
embroidery; and this species of lady-like manufacture was known
throughout Europe as English work.[3]

One effect of the Conquest was to bring the people of England and
Normandy into closer alliance than before. On the first occasion on
which William returned to Normandy, after the battle of Hastings, he
took with him, “in honourable attendance,” a considerable number of the
Saxon nobles,[4] who were doubtless accompanied by their wives and
daughters. Assisted by English ladies, as well as by those of her own
court, Matilda, the wife of the Conqueror, probably at this time
constructed the Tapestry which for many ages was preserved in the
Cathedral of Bayeux.

Never, perhaps, was so important a document written in worsted. It is a
full and a faithful chronicle of an event on which the modern history of
the world has turned. It is referred to as an historical authority by
nearly every writer who discusses the period. The way in which the
subject is treated, the spirit shown in its design, and the harmony of
its colouring, warrant us in pronouncing it to be a monument worthy of
its reputed author, and of the event which it is designed to
commemorate.

It is, however, a double memorial; it is a record of the love and duty
of William’s consort, as well as of the skill and valour of the great
hero himself. A loving wife sympathizes with her husband in all his
tastes. She takes an enthusiastic interest in his favourite pursuits;
and she had “lever far,” to use an expression of Lady Payson’s, that
success attended his efforts--that another leaf were added to his laurel
crown--“than that she should have a new gown, though it were of
scarlet.” Matilda could not bestride the war-horse, and do battle in the
field by her husband’s side; but she could commit his exploits to the
Tapestry. Surrounded by her ladies, all adroitly using their
many-coloured threads, she--

      Fought all his battles o’er again;
    And thrice [she] routed all his foes, and thrice [she] slew the slain.

Matilda was, during the greater part of her life, a loving wife.
William, too, was a devoted and faithful husband; though in one case he
cannot be recommended as a model to enamoured swains. It is said that
for seven long years he courted Matilda of Flanders, but in vain. Her
affections were set upon a Saxon nobleman, but were not reciprocated.
At length the Duke resolved to bring matters to a crisis. He repaired to
Bruges, and met the high-bred damsel as she returned from church through
the streets of her father’s gay capital. Having reproached her for her
long-continued scorn and cruelty, he seized her, and coolly rolled her
in the mud, to the no small injury of her trim and costly attire. Then,
after a few more striking proofs of his regard, which she must have
sensibly felt from such a hand, the lover rode away at full speed,
leaving her to account for this novel mode of courtship as best she
could. Strangely enough, she put a charitable construction upon his
actions; she regarded his blows as so many proofs of the violence of his
affection; she felt sorry for him; and then--all was over--in a very
brief space the nuptial ceremonies were solemnized with a splendour
becoming the greatness of the occasion.[5]

Thus did William win the hand of a lady who was to give to England a
race of monarchs more renowned than those of any other dynasty. She
herself, let it be observed, had the blood of Alfred in her veins.

Before proceeding further, it may be well to give a brief reply to the
question which will naturally arise in the minds of most--Has the Bayeux
Tapestry descended to us from a period so remote as that of the
Conquest? A minute examination of the work supplies the best answer to
this question. Montfaucon, whose knowledge of antiquities no one will
dispute, and who was the first to describe the Tapestry as a whole, was
quite satisfied that popular tradition was correct in ascribing it to
the wife of the Conqueror; and Thierry, the last and ablest writer upon
the Norman Conquest, though he hesitates to ascribe the work to Matilda,
has no doubt that it is contemporaneous with the Conquest, and
constantly refers to it as a document of unquestionable authenticity.[6]

Not, however, to settle the question by authorities, it may be
observed:--1st. That the fulness and correctness of its historical
details prove that it is a contemporaneous chronicle. Wace, as has
already been observed, treats more largely of the Norman invasion than
any of the writers of the Norman period; and, such is the general
agreement between the verses of the one and the delineations of the
other, that the Tapestry may be pronounced to be what in these latter
days would be called the “illustrations,” and the narrative of the
chronicler the “letter-press,” of an elaborate history of the Norman
Conquest.[7] And yet the one does not follow the other slavishly. Whilst
they agree in all the general facts, they differ in many minute details,
as all independent narratives will.

2. Again, the architecture, the dresses, the armour, the furniture, of
the Tapestry are those which prevailed at the period of the Conquest,
and at no other. It is at all times exceedingly difficult, whether by
writing or painting, to portray accurately the manners, language, and
modes of thought, of an anterior period. In mediæval times, however, the
attempt was seldom made. The draftsmen represented the manners “living
as they rose.” “It was the invariable practice with artists in every
country,” says Mr. Charles Stothard,[8] “excepting Italy, during the
middle ages, whatever subject they took in hand, to represent it
according to the manners and customs of their own time. Thus we may see
Alexander the Great, like a good Catholic, interred with all the rites
and ceremonies of the Romish church. All the illuminated transcripts of
Froissart, although executed not more than fifty years after the
original work was finished, are less valuable on account of the
illuminations they contain not being accordant with the text, but
representing the customs of the fifteenth century instead of the
fourteenth. It is not likely that in an age far less refined this
practice should be departed from. The Tapestry, therefore, must be
regarded as a true picture of the time when it was executed.” The
testimony of an earlier authority, Strutt, is to the same effect:--“To a
total want of proper taste in collecting of antiquities, and application
to the study of them, are owing the ignorant errors committed by the
unlearned illuminators of old MSS.; and so far were they from having the
least idea of any thing more ancient than the manners and customs of
their own particular times, that not only things of a century earlier
than their own era, are confounded together, but even representations of
the remotest periods in history. The Saxons put Noah, Abraham, Christ,
and King Edgar, all in the same habit, that is, the habit worn by
themselves at that time; and in some MSS., illuminated in the reign of
Henry the Sixth, are exhibited the figures of Meleager, Hercules, Jason,
&c., in the full dress of the great lords of that prince’s court. At the
latter end of one of these MSS., indeed, the illuminator, reading
something about a lion’s skin, has covered the shoulders of the beau
Hercules with that kingly animal’s hide over his courtly load of silk
and gold embroidery. Yet this is a lucky circumstance in the present
want of ancient materials; for though these pictures do not bear the
least resemblance of the things they were originally intended to
represent, yet they nevertheless are the undoubted characteristics of
the customs of that period in which each illuminator or designer
lived.”[9] A comparison of Master Wace with the Bayeux Tapestry will
furnish us with an illustration in point. Wace, after alluding to the
negotiations which took place before the armies closed at the decisive
field of Hastings, says, “As the Duke said this, and would have said
more, William Fitz Osbern rode up, _his horse all covered with iron_;
Sire, said he to his lord, we tarry too long, let us arm ourselves.
Allons! Allons!”[10] Now, if we look at the Tapestry, we shall find that
not a single horse is equipped in steel armour; and if we refer to the
authors who lived at that period, we shall find that not one of them
mentions any defensive covering for the horse. Wace, who flourished in
the days of Henry I. and Henry II., is the first writer who mentions
horse-armour, and, excepting from the passage which has just been
quoted, it could not be proved that it had been introduced even in his
day. Wace is therefore probably guilty of an anachronism, and describes
what happened at the close of his own time as having occurred in that of
his immediate predecessors.[11] This example shows how exceedingly
difficult it is to portray customs with accuracy a few years after the
period in which they prevailed. Had the Tapestry been made by Matilda
the Empress, as some contend, numerous similar anachronisms must have
occurred.

3. But the design of the Tapestry shows its early date. Its manifest
object is to prove the right of William to the throne of England, to
exhibit in strong colours the undutifulness and ingratitude of Harold in
attempting the usurpation of the crown, and to record the punishment
with which that disloyal and sacrilegious act was visited.[12] In the
latter days of the Conqueror such an undertaking would have been
valueless. He had planted his foot firmly upon the necks of the native
population; the barons, too, by whom he achieved the Conquest, had been
brought into subjection. He was king of England by the power of his
sword; he cared not then about the will of Edward the Confessor, the
oath of Harold, or the election of the nobles--he was king _de facto_,
and let them who durst deny it! These remarks, made with reference to
the close of the Conqueror’s reign, apply with still greater force to
the time of the Empress Matilda, to whom, as some conceive, we are
indebted for the Tapestry.[13] She would not have thought it necessary
to establish in so elaborate a manner her deceased grandfather’s right
to the throne, and to display at such length the obligations under
which Harold lay to him. The Brittany campaign would not have been given
in such detail excepting it had been quite a recent event. The Tapestry,
it will be observed, ends with the battle of Hastings. It does not even
include the subsequent coronation of William. It represents the first
act in the drama of the Conquest of England, and was doubtless intended
to prepare for the scenes which were to follow. It is difficult to
conceive that the Tapestry was designed at any period save that
immediately subsequent to the battle of Hastings. William had not then
assumed the character of an arbitrary monarch, which he subsequently
did. The Saxon ladies, full of reverence for the character of their
lately deceased monarch, Edward the Confessor, might naturally resent
the attempt of Harold to resist the evident wish of that monarch to
bequeath his crown to William, and, imbued with the superstition of an
ignorant age, regard the fatal results of the battle of Hastings as a
just judgment from God for the violation of an oath taken upon the
relics of the saints. Taking this view of it there was nothing
unpatriotic in their entering zealously into the views of their queen.
But if, after England had reaped the bitter fruits of the conquest; if,
after their fathers had been slain, their husbands driven into exile,
their children made to herd with the dogs of the Conqueror’s flock, they
had lent their skill to commemorate the desolation of their country and
their homes, they would have dishonoured their lineage and their name.
On these general grounds, therefore, we may conceive the Tapestry to be
of the era of the Conqueror, and to date from an early period in his
reign. Many opportunities of reverting to this subject will afterwards
occur.

But although it be admitted that the Tapestry is of the age of the
Conquest, it does not necessarily follow that it was wrought by the
Queen and her court. The opinion that Matilda presided over its
execution has been strongly controverted, chiefly by those, however, who
deny its early antiquity. The Abbé de la Rue, as formerly observed,
ascribes it to Matilda the Empress. Mr. Bolton Corney, in an able paper
entitled _Researches and Conjectures on the Bayeux Tapestry_, contends
that it was not executed until the year 1205, and that it was then done
at the expense of the Chapter. Dr. Lingard adopts Mr. Corney’s views,
and in a note appended to the first volume of his _History of England_
condenses his arguments. If, however, the Tapestry bear internal
evidence of an earlier date, these arguments are of little value.

No contemporary historian indeed tells us that the Tapestry was made by
Matilda. It is not mentioned in her will, or the Conqueror’s. The
inventory of the treasures of the church at Bayeux, bearing date 1369,
and which is the earliest document mentioning the Tapestry, contains no
allusion to Matilda. Another inventory, made in 1476, and professing to
be a descriptive catalogue of the jewels, ornaments, books, and other
valuables of the church, mentions the Tapestry, describes its form and
subject, and names the period of its public exhibition; but gives no
hint that it was made at the command of Matilda. It is difficult, it may
even be impossible, satisfactorily to account for the absence of all
allusion to the Queen in these documents, but negative arguments prove
little. Besides, the case is by no means singular. The compilers of
ancient documents seem to have left much to be taken for granted. Sir
Henry Ellis, in his _General Introduction to Domesday_, says, “Of Queen
Matilda’s gifts to foreign monasteries, two only are particularly
specified in the Survey; the land at Deverel in Wilts, which she gave to
St. Mary at Bee; and two hides at Frantone in Dorset, which she gave to
the Conqueror’s foundation of St. Stephen at Caen. _No mention occurs of
the Conqueror and his Queen having founded the monasteries of St.
Stephen and the Holy Trinity in that city_: although their lands in
England are specified.”[14] It is scarcely less difficult to account for
these omissions in the _Domesday Book_, than it is to account for the
absence of all allusion to the framer of the Tapestry by contemporary
writers. In the absence of direct evidence, we are thrown upon
probabilities. And what is more likely than that the opinion which
Montfaucon found prevailing at Bayeux when he discovered the Tapestry is
the correct one? As the Abbé de la Rue himself argues, “To have
undertaken this Tapestry would have required a considerable degree of
interest in the subject of it, and to have possessed the necessary
powers for its execution.”[15] Who can be supposed to have had so great
an interest in the establishment of the Conqueror’s right to the throne
of England as Matilda of Flanders, and who but herself would have been
at the trouble of asserting it in such full detail? Would any one but an
immediate connexion of the Duke’s have taken such prominent notice of
the rescue of Harold from his captivity in Ponthieu, and of his
subsequent friendly intercourse with William in Brittany; and would even
Matilda herself have done this if the Tapestry had been prepared after
the stupendous results of the battle of Hastings had fully developed
themselves?

Dr. Lingard, in appealing to the roll itself, says, “Nor does the
costliness of the work bespeak a royal benefactor.” “There is in it no
embroidery of gold, none of silver, none of silk, nothing worthy the
rank or the munificence of the supposed donor.” Had the article in
question been a royal robe, or sacerdotal vestment, the omission of the
precious metals might have been unaccountable; but in a piece of
embroidery of such extent, it is nothing wonderful. Neither should the
artistic value of the document be overlooked. Its figures may appear
uncouth in our eyes, but they are done in the very best style of the
period. A person of ordinary resources could not have commanded, to the
extent required, the services of the ablest artists of the day. The
preparation of the Tapestry must have been a costly and laborious
process, not at all unworthy of the wife of the victor of Hastings.[16]
What is more likely, then, than that the traditional opinion which
Montfaucon found prevailing in his day at Bayeux is well founded, and
that to the first of our Norman Queens we are indebted for this most
wonderful piece of needle-work?

Although the actual execution of the Tapestry devolved upon the ladies
of Matilda’s court, there can be no doubt that they wrought from a
design prepared by some draftsman. The priests were the principal
artists of that day. The Latin inscriptions prove that in that part of
their work, at least, the ladies had the assistance of some educated
person. The name of the designer has not come down to us; unless indeed
there be truth in the following statement made by Miss Agnes
Strickland:--“This pictorial chronicle of her mighty consort’s
achievements appears to have been, in part at least, designed for
Matilda by Turold, a dwarf artist, who moved by a natural desire of
claiming his share in the celebrity which he foresaw would attach to the
work, has cunningly introduced his own effigies and name,[17] thus
authenticating the Norman tradition, that he was the person who
illuminated the canvas with the proper outlines and colours.”[18] Though
ignorant of the individual who designed the Tapestry, the style of the
work induces us to believe that the artist was an Italian. The postures
into which many of the figures are thrown are not English or French, but
Italian.[19] The cordiality subsisting at the time of the Conquest
between the courts of Normandy and Rome, and the successful exhibition
of Norman prowess for some time previously on the plains of the Italian
peninsula, sufficiently account for the introduction of the
peculiarities of southern Europe into the Tapestry.

Perhaps, however, we have acted rashly in having ventured even thus
cursorily to touch upon the antiquity of the Tapestry. Miss Agnes
Strickland, who, in her _Lives of the Queens of England_, shows how
vigorously she can wield the pen, is rather indignant that any one who
is not learned in cross-stitch, should venture to discuss the subject.
Before we argue, she wants to know if we can sew. She says, “With due
deference to the judgment of the lords of the creation on all subjects
connected with policy and science, we venture to think that our learned
friends, the archæologists and antiquaries, would do well to direct
their intellectual powers to more masculine objects of inquiry, and
leave the question of the Bayeux Tapestry (with all other matters allied
to needle-craft) to the decision of the ladies, to whose province it
belongs. It is matter of doubt to us whether one, out of the many
gentlemen who have disputed Matilda’s claims to that work, if called
upon to execute a copy of either of the figures on canvas, would know
how to put in the first stitch.”[20] Few of the rougher sex would like
to be put to the_experimentum acus_, and therefore it may be as well at
once to exercise the best part of valour, and beat a hasty retreat.

The attention of the learned world was first, in modern times, called
to the Bayeux Tapestry by M. Lancelot, who in 1724 found a drawing of a
portion of it in the Cabinet of Antiquities at Paris. He was struck with
its appearance, and at once pronounced it to be of the age of William
the Conqueror, and intended to commemorate his exploits; but he was
unable to conjecture whether the drawing represented a bass-relief, a
piece of sculpture surrounding a choir of a church or a tomb, a painting
in fresco or upon a glass window, or even, he adds, if it be a piece of
tapestry. He conceived that the original would be found at Caen. In
consequence of his suggestion, Father Montfaucon made diligent
inquiries, and, after some trouble, found the Tapestry, not at Caen, but
at Bayeux. He ascertained that it was there popularly ascribed to Queen
Matilda.[21] M. Lancelot further informs us that it was ordinarily
called in the country _La Toilette de Duc Guillaume_. At that period,
and for long afterwards, it was kept in a side chapel of the cathedral,
rolled upon a kind of winch, and was exposed to public view only once a
year, on the festival of the relics (July 1), and during the octave. On
these occasions it was hung up in the nave of the church, which it
completely surrounded.

In the autumn of 1803, when Bonaparte, then First Consul of France,
contemplated the invasion of England, the Tapestry was brought from its
obscurity at Bayeux, and exhibited in the National Museum at Paris,
where it remained some months. The First Consul himself went to see it,
and affected to be struck with that particular part (_Plate VII._) which
represents the appearance of a meteor presaging the defeat of Harold:
affording an opportunity for the inference, that the meteor which had
then been lately seen in the south of France was the prelude to a
similar event. The exhibition was popular; so much so, that a small
dramatic piece was got up at the Theatre du Vaudeville, entitled _La
Tapisserie de la Reine Mathilde_, in which Matilda was represented
passing her time with her women in embroidering the exploits of her
husband, never leaving their work, except to put up prayers for his
success.

At present the Tapestry is preserved in the town’s library at Bayeux,
where it is advantageously exposed to view by being extended in eight
lengths from end to end of the room, and is at the same time protected
from injury by being covered with glass.

The Tapestry has originally formed one piece, and measures two hundred
and twenty-seven feet in length, by about twenty inches in breadth. The
groundwork of it is a strip of rather fine linen cloth, which, through
age, has assumed the tinge of brown holland. The stitches consist of
lines of coloured worsted laid side by side, and bound down at intervals
with cross fastenings; as is seen in the frontispiece, which represents
a portion of the Tapestry of the original size. The parts intended to
represent flesh (the face, hands, or naked legs of the men) are left
untouched by the needle. Considering the age of the Tapestry, it is in a
remarkably perfect state. The first portion of it is somewhat injured,
and the last five yards of it are very much defaced. The colours chiefly
used by the fair artists are--dark and light blue, red, pink, yellow,
buff, and dark and light green. On examining this interesting relic, I
was struck with nothing so much as the freshness of the colours; and can
entirely subscribe to the words of Mr. Hudson Gurney, in the
_Archæologia_, “the colours are as bright and distinct, and the letters
of the superscriptions as legible, as if of yesterday.”

Perspective and light and shade are wholly disregarded. An effort is
made, by varying the colours employed, to avoid the confusion arising
from this circumstance: thus, while the leg of a horse which is nearest
to the spectator is painted blue, the one more removed will be coloured
red; or if the one be pink, the other may be a greenish yellow. The
colours, owing probably to the restricted extent of them at the command
of Matilda, are employed somewhat fancifully, and we have horses
exhibited to us of hues which, could they be realized in living
specimens in Hyde Park now-a-days, would attract the envy and admiration
of all beholders. Notwithstanding the liberty thus taken, the harmony of
the colouring is such, that persons may look at the Tapestry for some
time without discovering that truth, in this particular, has been in any
degree violated. Mr. Dawson Turner remarks, that “in point of drawing,
the figures are superior to the contemporary sculpture at St. George’s
and elsewhere; and the performance is not deficient in energy.”[22] As
we examine the figures in detail, we shall have occasion to notice the
spirit and the expression which the artist has infused into his work.

Besides the principal subject, which occupies the central portion of the
Tapestry, there is an ornamental border at the top and bottom of the
field, which is filled with a variety of representations. Here the
artist has indulged in a considerable play of fancy. Figures of birds
and beasts which certainly never came out of Noah’s ark are admitted
into this menagerie. Probably many of these forms represent the
griffins, centaurs, and other fabulous creatures which occupy so
conspicuous a place in the romances of the period. Others clearly
represent animals, such as the camel and lion, with which the people of
that age could not be very familiar, but which would, on that account,
furnish subjects of thought and conversation all the more exciting.

In the lower border of the roll, near the beginning, are some
representations of the fables of Æsop. There is the crow and the fox,
the wolf and the lamb, the crane and the wolf, the eagle and the
tortoise, and some others. Besides these subjects, we have many of the
operations of husbandry, such as ploughing, sowing, and harrowing. The
sports of the field are not neglected. One man is seen shooting birds
with a sling. At this period the sling had quite gone into disuse as a
weapon of war, but was probably long afterwards retained for the
purposes of the sportsman. In one compartment, a man is seen fighting,
sword in hand, with a bear that is chained to a tree. In another, the
huntsman summons his dogs to the chase. In some portions of the Tapestry
the border has an evident reference to the main subject of the piece;
towards the end of the work the whole of the lower margin is filled with
the bodies of the slain, thus forming it, as it were, the foreground of
the general delineation.

The whole picture is divided into seventy-two compartments or scenes,
which are generally separated from one another by trees, or what are
intended to represent such. The artist, very modestly mistrusting his
own powers, has usually affixed an inscription, in Latin, to each
subject, the more fully to explain his intention. The letters, like the
figures, are stitched in worsted, and are about an inch in length.

That the Tapestry should from a period beyond all record have belonged
to the church of Bayeux is nothing surprising. Odo, the uterine brother
of William, who rendered the Conqueror such efficient assistance in the
battle of Hastings, and in the subsequent government of the kingdom, was
archbishop of that place. Matilda may, with great propriety have given
it to him in acknowledgement of his services, and he with equal
probability, for he was very munificent to his church, may have given it
to the Chapter. There is no other period at which it could with so much
probability have come into the possession of the ecclesiastics of Bayeux
as during the episcopate of Odo.[23]

II. THE COMMISSION.

    “All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter.”

                              _Macbeth._

Very frequently the means which we adopt to secure our ends are those by
which Providence designs to thwart them.

During that disastrous period when England was subject to the incessant
depredations of the Danes, Ethelred II. contracted a marriage with Emma,
a daughter of Richard I., Duke of Normandy. Ethelred’s conduct to his
wife proved that the match was not one of affection; his object
evidently was to obtain the assistance of the powerful house of Rollo in
resisting the attacks of the Vikings of the north. Instead of doing
this, the alliance resulted in arraying the Normans amongst the enemies
of England. Alfred and Edward, the sons of Ethelred and Emma, found an
asylum in the Norman court during the supremacy of Sweyn and Canute. At
one time an expedition was in readiness to leave the shores of Normandy,
with a view of placing by force a son of Ethelred on the throne of his
father. William of Malmesbury, speaking of the two youths, says--“I find
that their uncle Richard (II.) took no steps to restore them to their
country; on the contrary, he married his sister Emma to the enemy and
the invader. Robert, however, whom we have so frequently before
mentioned as having gone to Jerusalem, assembling a fleet and embarking
soldiers, made ready an expedition, boasting that he would set the crown
on the head of his grand-nephews; and doubtlessly he would have made
good his assertion, had not, as we have heard from our ancestors, an
adverse wind constantly opposed him: but assuredly this was by the
hidden counsel of God, in whose disposal are the powers of all kingdoms.
The remains of the vessels, decayed through length of time, were still
to be seen at Rouen in our days.”[24] Thus half a century before William
the Conqueror set out upon his expedition, a Norman invasion loomed in
the distance.

Whilst the ships of Robert were rotting in the harbour of Rouen, Alfred
and Edward, the sons of Emma, were being trained up in the court of
Normandy in those habits and feelings which eventually led to the
assembling of an armament which adverse winds were not destined to
baffle. Alfred visiting England, was barbarously murdered; the Norman
chroniclers assert that the cruel deed was instigated by Godwin. At
length, by the death of Hardicanute, a way was opened for Edward,
afterwards styled the Confessor, to the throne of his father. He was,
however, at the time of his accession, as Camden expresses it,
thoroughly Frenchified. He could scarcely speak a word of English. His
court was filled with Normans, who usurped most of the official
dignities. When advancing years compelled the monarch to take some steps
for securing a fitting successor to the throne, his mind reverted to the
court of

[Illustration: PLATE I.]

Normandy. His immediate heir, Edgar Atheling, was too feeble a youth to
be placed, in such turbulent times, in so responsible a position. When
the choice lay between Harold the Saxon and William the Norman, the
Confessor’s early predilections necessarily induced him to look
favourably upon the youthful head of his mother’s house. Independently
of any communications which the English king may have made to the young
Duke of Normandy, the partiality which he manifested towards him could
not fail to nurture in Duke William’s mind the most ambitious views.
Hence sprung the Norman invasion.

We are now prepared for examining in detail the scenes depicted in the
Tapestry.

The first compartment exhibits to us Edward the Confessor giving
audience to two personages of rank. The king is seated on a throne; his
feet rest upon a footstool. A crown, ornamented with _fleurs-de-lis_, is
on his head, and he holds a sceptre in his left hand. The robe of the
monarch is full, and is ornamented at the collar, the wrists, and down
the front, probably by needle-work of gold. Similar ornaments appear
upon his knees. The arms and feet of the throne, according to the usage
of the period, terminate in carvings of the head and feet of a dog. The
taller of the persons waiting upon the king is no doubt Harold, as the
face bears a strong resemblance to that of one of the horsemen in the
next group, which the inscription tells us is Harold. A general likeness
is preserved throughout the Tapestry, both in the case of William and
Harold, so that we may reasonably suppose that the delineations of
these personages bear some resemblance to the originals, and that they
were drawn by an artist who knew them both. Edward is in the attitude of
a king giving law to his subjects. Harold and his companion _stand_ in
the royal presence, both to betoken their reverence for their monarch,
and their readiness to depart on the instant in the performance of the
royal behests. They evidently pay earnest attention to the commands of
the king.

The subject of this interview is no doubt Harold’s intended expedition
to the court of William. Unhappily, there is no point in history
respecting which a greater diversity of statement exists among
contemporary writers, than the visit of Harold to the court of William.
Three views are taken of it:--one is, that Harold was commissioned by
Edward to inform the young Duke of Normandy that he had been nominated
by him as his successor to the throne; another is, that Harold, whilst
taking recreation in a fishing-boat, was accidentally carried out to
sea, and driven on the shores of Ponthieu; the third is, that Harold had
begged permission of Edward to go into Normandy, in order to release
from captivity two relatives, a brother and a nephew, who, after Earl
Godwin’s rebellion, had been placed as hostages in the hands of the
Norman duke. The question for us to consider is which is the view
countenanced by the Tapestry. Unfortunately, the inscription over the
group is simply EDWARD REX, and, so, gives us no definite information.
It will be well to examine the statements of the chroniclers, and then
compare them with the representations of our worsted work.

William of Malmesbury says, “King Edward declining into years, as he had
no children himself, and saw the sons of Godwin growing in power,
despatched messengers to the King of Hungary to send over Edward, the
son of his brother Edmund, with all his family; intending, as he
declared, that either he, or his sons, should succeed to the hereditary
kingdom of England, and that his own want of issue should be supplied by
that of his kindred. Edward came in consequence, but died almost
immediately. He left three surviving children; that is to say, Edgar,
who, after the death of Harold, was by some elected king; and who, after
many revolutions of fortune, is now living wholly retired in the
country, in extreme old age;[25] Christina, who grew old at Romsey in
the habit of a nun; and Margaret, whom Malcolm King of the Scots,
espoused.... The king, in consequence of the death of his relation,
losing his first hope of support, gave the succession of England to
William Earl of Normandy. He was well worthy of such a gift, being a
young man of superior mind, who had raised himself to the highest
eminence by his unwearied exertion; moreover, he was his nearest
relation by consanguinity, as he was the son of Robert, the son of
Richard the Second (of Normandy), whom we have repeatedly mentioned as
the brother of Emma, Edward’s mother. Some affirm that Harold himself
was sent into Normandy by the King for this purpose; others, who knew
Harold’s more secret intentions, say, that being driven thither against
his will by the violence of the wind, he imagined this device, in order
to extricate himself. This, as it appears nearest the truth, I shall
relate. Harold being at his country seat at Bosham, went for recreation
on board a fishing-boat and, for the purpose of prolonging his sport,
put out to sea; when a sudden tempest arising, he was driven with his
companions on the coast of Ponthieu. The people of that district, as was
their native custom, immediately assembled from all quarters; and
Harold’s company, unarmed and few in number, were, as it might easily
be, quickly overpowered by an armed multitude, and bound hand and foot.
Harold, craftily meditating a remedy for this mischance, sent a person,
whom he had allured by great promises, to William to say, that he had
been sent into Normandy by the King, for the purpose of expressly
confirming in person the message which had been imperfectly delivered by
people of less authority, but that he was detained in fetters by Guy,
and could not execute his embassy.... By these means Harold was
liberated at William’s command, and conducted by Guy in person.”[26]

Master Wace inclines to the opinion, that he went to rescue the
hostages. His statement is, “When his father (Earl Godwin) had died,
Harold, pitying the hostages, was desirous to cross over into Normandy,
and bring them home. So he went to take leave of the King. But Edward
strictly forbade him, and charged and conjured him not to go to
Normandy, nor to speak with Duke William; for he might soon be drawn
into some snare, as the Duke was very shrewd; and he told him that if he
wished to have the hostages home, he would choose some messenger for the
purpose. So at least I have found the story written. But another book
tells me, that the King ordered him to go for the purpose of assuring
Duke William, his cousin, that he should have the realm after his death.
How the matter really was I never knew.”[27]

Let us now attend to the questions, How are we to reconcile these
various statements, and what is the view taken by the draftsman of the
Tapestry?

We must at once abandon the fishing boat story. The preparation which
Harold makes for his expedition, and the numbers he takes with him, are
irreconcileable with this view. Besides, the ships do not seem to be
suffering from stress of weather, and, according to the inscription,
Harold appears to have made a prosperous voyage, ET VELIS VENTO PLENIS,
VENIT IN TERRAM WIDONIS COMITIS--And his sails being filled with the
wind, he came into the territory of Count Guy.

We must also abandon the view which represents him as going to procure,
_in a direct and open manner_, the hostages which William held. He knew
that William was as shrewd as he was ambitious, and would not be so
simple as to give up at his request, however reasonable it might be, the
only means he had of holding him in restraint. Besides, the Tapestry
represents the King, in the first compartment, in the attitude of one
giving a command, rather than administering advice. The interview which
Harold has with the King, on his return, strengthens this view. (_Plate
VII._) Harold comes into the presence of the Confessor like a guilty
person, deploring his misdeeds and craving pardon. An axe, carried by an
attendant on the left of the King, is turned towards him, apparently
betokening that he has committed an offence worthy of death. The King is
evidently reproving him sharply, but the attendant on the right of the
King having the edge of his axe turned away from Harold, shows that the
result of the interview was a pardon. The monarch was in fact too
powerless to adopt any rigorous steps towards so influential a subject
as the son of Godwin. If Harold had simply failed upon a private errand
of his own, but which the King had forewarned him would be a bootless
one, the King would have been more disposed to laugh at the trouble into
which he had brought himself than take such serious notice of his
conduct.

Besides, it is admitted on all hands, that Edward intended to appoint
William as his successor, and most of the chroniclers agree in asserting
that the Norman had already received some intimation of it. Further,
William, after procuring the kingdom, always claimed to hold it, amongst
other pleas, _Beneficio concessionis domini et cognati mei, gloriosi
Regis Edwardi_--By the devise of my lord and relative the glorious King
Edward.[28] Now, is it likely that a document which depicted the views
of the Norman court would neglect to insert so important a title?

Supposing it to be a point established, that in the first compartment
the Confessor is giving orders to Harold to inform William of the
honours that awaited him, and abandoning, for the reasons already
stated, the view of his being accidentally cast ashore on the coast of
Ponthieu, we are necessarily led to suppose that he designedly shaped
his course to that place, in order to promote his own ends. The Earl of
Ponthieu was jealous of William’s growing power, and had often been in
arms against him. He had on one occasion been imprisoned by him for two
years. Harold might readily suppose, that if he could obtain the
assistance of Guy, he might, by stealth or stratagem, get possession of
the persons of his brother and nephew. Hence, instead of going direct to
Rouen, he seems to have shaped his course more to the north. He might
argue with himself, that when once he had got possession of the
hostages, the wrath of William, which would no doubt be aroused by the
proceeding, would be easily allayed by his putting him in formal
possession of the fact of his being appointed by the present occupant of
the English crown his successor.

On the first view of the case, it seems strange that Harold should
undertake an errand which was apparently so much opposed to his
interests, or even that the King should intrust him with such a
commission. Harold, however, could have little objection to make it
known that it was the King’s wish that William should be appointed his
successor; for it was of some importance to him, having an eye to the
crown himself, that the direct heir should, at all events, be
superseded. Edgar Atheling, the next in the succession, was a rival in
the palace itself; William the Norman was separated from him and the
land of their mutual ambition by a barrier which was in those days a
very formidable one--the English Channel. If Harold entertained these
views, he would take care to inform the King of his acquiescence in his
well known intentions respecting the succession, and thus encourage him
to send him upon his present errand.

This method of reconciling the different views given by the chroniclers
upon this involved point of English history is, it must be confessed,
purely theoretical; at the same time, no better occurs.

Harold has received his commission from the King; let us see how he
fulfils it. He is first seen riding in company with several persons of
distinction (as their dress indicates) to the place of embarkation. The
legend here is, [U]BI HAROLD DUX ANGLORUM ET SUI MILITES EQUITANT AD
BOSHAM--Where Harold the English chief and his knights ride to Bosham.
Harold is represented twice in this group (by no means an unusual thing,
as we shall afterwards see); once, lifting up his hand, as if in the
attitude of command; and again, with his hawk upon his fist, to betoken
his high rank; a pack of hounds are scampering before him.

The hawk and the hounds require a few words of remark. It is well known
to persons conversant in antiquity, that the great men of those times
had only two ways of being accoutered when they set out upon a journey;
either in the habiliments of war, or for the chase. Harold, as going on
an errand of peace, we find here represented in the latter. The bird
upon the fist was a mark of high nobility. We see it frequently upon
seals and miniatures, of that age, of ladies as well as men; and so
sacred was this bird esteemed, that we find it prohibited in the ancient
laws for any one to give his hawk or his sword as part of his ransom.
Severe fines were laid on those who should steal another’s hawk. Harold,
it will be observed, is the only one of all his suite who has the bird
upon his fist.[29]

Several hawks are introduced in the course of the Tapestry, but in no
one case is the bird provided with a hood. The hood was introduced from
the East about the year 1200, and as after its introduction it was
considered an essential part of the equipment of the bird, its absence
in the Tapestry is conclusive evidence of its comparatively early
date.[30]

The three larger dogs have collars, provided with rings through which,
most probably, the leash passed; the other two are of a smaller breed.
The horses are hog-maned. Harold’s horse, in the more forward instance,
has some ornament entwined with its mane.

Bosham is a hamlet in Sussex, near to Chichester, which still retains
its ancient name. It was a sea-port of some consequence in Saxon times,
and we frequently read of its being the point of departure for persons
going to the Continent. Bosham was the property of Harold, having been
obtained by his father, Earl Godwin, from the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Among the endowed churches of England, that of Bosham was probably one
of the richest. In the reign of King Edward it had land belonging to it
to the extent of a hundred and twelve hides. The generality of church
endowments were infinitely smaller. Hence we find the church represented
in the Tapestry as a structure of considerable consequence.[31]

A tree closes the scene. It is of a species which does not flourish in
our modern woods, but which nevertheless grows very abundantly in the
MSS. of the tenth and eleventh centuries. Several of similar character
may be seen in the Illustrations to Cædmon’s _Metrical Paraphrase_,
executed in the tenth century.[32] These trees, like the lions and
leopards of the heralds of a subsequent date, were mere conventional
forms, and not intended to be correct representations of the objects
indicated.

The next compartment exhibits to us Harold and a companion (one no doubt
being used to represent all) entering the sacred structure, with the
view of seeking the divine blessing upon their enterprise. As the
humility of their posture, when inside, could not be represented, the
artist has exhibited them as entering it in a state of semi-genuflexion.
In this he follows a classical model. Among the Greeks and Romans the
act of adoration was expressed by the artists representing the body
inclined slightly forwards, the knees gently bent, and the right hand
touching the object of reverence.[33] Over the building which Harold and
his companion enter is written the word ECCLESIA.--the church.

It is not a little curious to observe, that in immediate contiguity with
the church in which our voyagers offer their devotions, is the festal
board at which they comfort their own bowels, and pledge each other in
goblets large as their own hearts. The scene is one of a truly Saxon
character. Our blue-eyed forefathers never did things by halves, and
whenever they sat down at the social table--and they did so as often as
convenient--they exhibited a refreshing earnestness.

The scene represents the end of the feast, and hence the drinking horns
rather than the platters are brought into requisition. Two of these are
magnificent specimens, and remind us of the horn of Ulphe preserved in
York Minster, and the Pusey horn. The individuals in the building are
evidently pledging each other, and the challenged and the challenger are
drinking in turn out of the same cup. Robert de Brunne refers to this
practice in the following lines:--

    “This is their custom and their gest
     When thei are at the ale or fest;
     Ilk man that loves, where him think
     Sall say wassail, and to him drink.
     He that bids, sall say wassail;
     The tother sall say again drinkhail.
     That said wassail drinkes of the cup,
     Kissand his felow he gives it up;
     Drinkhail, he says, and drinkes thereof,
     Kissand him in bord and skoff.”[34]

Besides horns, semicircular vessels, or mazer cups, appear among the
furnishings of the board. These vessels were generally of wood, but
occasionally of gold or silver. Our ancestors, who somewhat strangely
blended religion with their festivities, not unfrequently had mottos,
such as the following, inscribed upon their mazer bowls:--

    In the name of the trinitie
    Fille the kup and drink to me.

But the best of friends must part. A messenger, who has blown the horn,
to inform our voyagers that the boats are ready, till he is tired, comes
personally, horn in hand, to urge their departure.

The scene of the embarkation is curious. Harold, the most powerful
subject in England--if he can be called a subject--strips off his lower
garments, and wades into the sea. His companions follow him in similar
guise. Harold has, as usual, his hawk upon his fist, and he and his
companion (the representative of the rest), more careful of their hounds
than themselves, carry them dry-shod on board the ship that waits to
receive them.

No satisfactory explanation has been given of the peculiar implement
held in the left hand of the attendant who is next but one to Harold.
Can it be a ‘throw stick’ such as was generally used by the ancient
Egyptian sportsmen in fowling?[35]

Harold has two ships, and they are represented twice over--once at their
departure from the English coast, and again on their arrival at the
shores of France. But before attending to the adventures which befell
the Saxon Earl on the opposite side, it will be well to review the
ground already trodden, in order to gather up some fragments of
information respecting the tastes and habits of the ancient English.

The architectural delineations of the Tapestry are those of the
Conquest. Throughout the whole, the circular arch, which is
characteristic of the Saxon and Norman styles, prevails in its simplest
forms. Interlacing arches which occur so frequently in the later Norman
buildings, and which are supposed to have introduced the pointed or
Gothic-style, never occur. The palace of Edward the Confessor, in the
first compartment, is a large building as compared with the church and
manor-house of Bosham in the second. In some of its details it bears a
striking resemblance to the ‘heavenly abode’ in one of the early
illustrations of Cædmon’s Paraphrase.[36] Of the chequered work on the
face of the chief buttress tower many examples exist to this day in
Normandy. The chief feature of the church is the doorway, as is the case
with all Norman buildings up to a late period. The windows are small and
insignificant, and were probably unglazed. It is roofed with stone
shingles or tiles, rounded at the lower extremity, and fastened to the
framework with nails, as is conventionally represented in the drawing.
The roofs in the Saxon illustrations already referred to present a
precisely similar appearance. The traveller in Normandy will often be
reminded by existing buildings of these arrangements. The house in which
the voyagers take their farewell repast is worthy of observation. It is
constructed upon the plan of the ancient “peel houses” of the North of
England. The upper apartment has an independent entrance by stone steps
from the outside, and seems to be the place of greatest comfort and
security. The lower room is vaulted, and is divided into three
compartments, like the aisles of a church. This was not an unusual
arrangement in buildings of the Saxon and Norman period.[37]

The dress of the parties may be briefly described. It has manifestly
been derived from a Roman model. A garment, doubtless of woollen,
invests the body, and comes up to the neck. A tunic, having something of
the form of a frock coat, is put on over this, and is bound round the
waist by a girdle. In the horsemen, this tunic is brought below the
knees, and, for greater convenience in riding, is divided so as to form
two wide loose legs. Most of the men are furnished with hose, which fit
tightly, and come well up the thigh. Most of them also are furnished
with shoes, which seem to fit the foot naturally and easily. In addition
to these coverings, the superior orders wear a cloak, nearly resembling
the _chlamys_ of the Roman general, and which is fastened by a fibula,
or brooch, at the right shoulder.

All the figures, excepting those accoutred with crowns or helmets, are
bare-headed. This at first sight does not seem to be the case; the heads
of the parties appear as if they were enveloped with caps of various
colours. It will be observed, however, that, within doors as well as
without, their heads wear the same appearance. But the shaven crown of
the priests reveals the fact. These personages appear with hair as
indisputably red, and blue, and yellow, as the rest, yet they show the
bare poll in the centre. (_See Plates IV. and VII._) It may also be
observed that the hinder part of the heads of the Frenchmen is bare. In
France, at this period, an absurd custom prevailed of shaving the back
of the head. The men of Normandy and Ponthieu accordingly appear as if
they had caps stuck upon the front of their heads, leaving the back part
naked. All this seems to prove that, at the time of the Conquest, it was
not customary either in England or France for men to cover the head,
except for defensive purposes in the day of battle.

The Saxons are uniformly represented with mustaches; the French are not.
King Edward always appears with a beard. The Saxons were fond of
cultivating the hair, and exhibiting full and flowing locks. In the
youthful days of King Edward both razors and scissors were eschewed. In
process of time, however, through some silvery influence, men were
induced to denude their chins of nature’s covering. Frenchmen made a
clean sweep of it, but the Saxons held out for the mustache. King Edward
maintained the customs of his youth, and he is always represented on
coins, medals, and the Tapestry, with all the capillary attractions
which nature ever gave him. In these respects, the Tapestry is true to
history.

In ancient times, as well as in modern, fashions were subject to change.
In the reigns immediately succeeding the Conqueror’s, modes prevailed
different from those depicted in the Tapestry. The points of the shoes
were elongated, greater extravagance of dress was indulged in, and the
Normans, instead of shaving their hair like monks, suffered it to grow
ridiculously long; beards, too, were cultivated. The following summary
of the fashions of the late Norman period is to our present purpose:--

“During the reigns of Rufus and Henry I. the dress of the higher classes
became much more costly in material and extravagant in shape. Some most
ridiculous fashions are reprobated and caricatured by the historians and
illuminators of that period. The sleeves of the tunics were made long
enough to cover and hang considerably below the hand. Peaked-toed boots
and shoes of the most absurd shapes, some terminating like a scorpion’s
tail, others stuffed with tow and curling round like a ram’s horn, are
mentioned by the monkish historians. Ordericus Vitalis says they were
invented by some one deformed in the foot. The mantles and tunics were
worn much longer and fuller, and the former lined with the most
expensive furs. Henry I. is said to have had one presented to him by the
Bishop of Lincoln, lined with black sable with white spots, and which
cost £100. of the money of that day.

“The English now, both Saxon and Norman, suffered their hair to grow to
an immoderate length instead of being cropped ridiculously short; and
William of Malmesbury, who has previously complained of his countrymen
having imitated the latter fashion, now laments over the long hair, the
loose flowing garments, the pointed shoes, and effeminate appearance of
the English generally. Even long beards were worn during the reign of
Henry I.; and Ordericus Vitalis compares the men of that day to ‘filthy
goats.’

“Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, refused his benediction on Ash
Wednesday to those who would not cut their hair. Councils were held on
this important matter. The razor and the scissors were not only
recommended _ex cathedra_, but positively produced sometimes at the end
of a sermon against the sinfulness of long locks and curling mustaches.
Serlo d’Abon, Bishop of Seez, on Easter Day, 1105, after preaching
against beards before Henry I., cropped not only that of the king but
those of the whole congregation with a pair of scissors he had provided
for the occasion. But nothing could long repress these fashions, which
in the time of Stephen again raged to such an extent that the fops of
the day suffered their hair to grow till they looked more like women
than men; and those whose ringlets were not sufficiently luxurious added
false hair to equal or surpass in appearance their more favoured
brethren.”[38]

We can only account for the exact conformity of the manners and customs
depicted in the Tapestry with those prevailing during the Conqueror’s
reign, on the supposition that the Tapestry was then produced.

III. THE ENTANGLEMENT.

    “Sir, what ill chance hath brought you to this place?”

                               _Paradise Regained._

When Robert of Normandy went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, he named his
son William, then a boy seven years of age, his heir. His courtiers
expressing their fears that during his absence the estates would be left
without a head, he replied, “Not so, by my faith, not so! I will leave
you a master in my place. I have a little bastard here; he is little,
indeed, but he will grow; nay, by God’s grace, I have great hopes that
he will prove a gallant man; therefore I do pray you all to receive him
from my hands, for from this time forth I give him seisin of the duchy
of Normandy, as my known and acknowledged heir.” William, who was
destined never again to see his father, was committed to the
guardianship of his two uncles--“a lamb to the tutelage of wolves.”
When, at a very early age, he was compelled to take the reins of
government into his own hands, he had a difficult part to perform. As
the author of the _Roman de Rou_ informs us, “The feuds against him were
many, and his friends few; for he found that most were ill inclined
towards him; those even whom his father held dear he found haughty and
evil disposed. The barons warred upon each other;

[Illustration: PLATE II.]

the strong oppressed the weak, and he could not prevent it.”[39] The
success which attended his efforts made him an object of jealousy and
fear. In 1054 the King of France made war upon him, with the intention
of depriving him of his duchy. In the battle of Mortemer, William
overcame the forces of France, and, along with some others, took Guy
Count of Ponthieu prisoner.

Harold knew well the difficult part which his rival had to perform, and
doubtless thought to take advantage of it. If he could induce Guy to
interest himself in the fate of his brother and nephew, who were
detained as hostages at the court of Normandy, the assistance of the
King of France and of many of his great barons could easily be secured.
Such, probably, was the reasoning of Harold, as he stepped on board his
ship at Bosham. The territories of Guy lay immediately to the north of
those of William. Let us see how the voyager fares. No untoward accident
occurs on the passage across, but all is expectation and anxiety as the
ships approach the shore. One man from the top of the mast of the
hindermost vessel eagerly spies out the land, the whole of the crew are
standing up and looking anxiously toward it. They evidently discern
indications which make them doubtful of a hospitable reception. This
ship, however, bears no marks of having encountered a gale. Its sail is
fully extended, and is in good order.

The foremost vessel contains Harold alone, as the superscription,
HAROLD, informs us. He is in full dress, ready to pay his respects to
the Count of Ponthieu. He is, however, armed with a spear, which
evidently indicates that he has reason to fear that he is in an enemy’s
country.

The next group of figures reveals the plot. Guy, accompanied by a troop
of horsemen bearing sword and shield and spear, orders the arrest of
Harold and his companions. The Count is simply clad, but well armed; he
has not only a sword of portentous size attached to his side, but a
basilard, or hunting knife, suspended from his saddle. “As an instance
of that peculiar accuracy which is observed by the designer of the
Tapestry, even in seemingly unimportant particulars, and which makes the
work so much more interesting as a faithful depiction of the various
circumstances of the times, we find the Norman horses of this and other
groups are represented as being larger than the Anglo-Saxon. The hair of
the mane is also uncut, and falls on the neck; the saddle and its
accoutrements are similar.”[40] Harold, stripped, as before, for
disembarkation, is immediately seized. The first impression on the minds
of the party evidently is to resist. Their ordinary weapons, which have
for the moment been laid aside, are not at hand; but that weapon which a
Saxon never laid aside--that weapon, half knife, half dagger, with which
he divided his food at meals, which he had by him even during the hours
of sleep, and which was deposited in his grave when his warfare was
o’er--that weapon, the saxe, from which, according to the mediæval
rhymer Gotfridus Viterbiensis, the Saxons derived their name--

    “Ipse brevis gladius apud illos Saxo vocatur,
     Unde sibi Saxo nomen peperisse notatur.”[41]

--is clutched and drawn.

The latter figures of the group, by the hesitancy of their manner, seem
to say that resistance is useless; each has instinctively laid hold of
his weapon, but it rests midway in his girdle.

The inscription over this group is, HIC APPREHENDIT WIDO HAROLDUM ET
DUXIT EUM AD BELREM ET IBI EUM TENUIT.--Here Guy seized Harold, and led
him to Beaurain, where he detained him prisoner. The modern Beaurain is
situated a short distance from Montreuil, the capital of the ancient
province of Ponthieu. A tree closes the scene.

In the solitude of his prison Harold must have reflected bitterly upon
his rashness in committing himself to the hands of Guy without having
accurately ascertained his feelings towards him. Instead of a friend he
found in him a foe. Instead of furthering his views he involved him in
almost inextricable difficulties. The Count, probably, had too keen a
sense of William’s power again to run the risk of incurring his wrath;
he therefore resolved, to avoid all appearance of ambiguity, to detain
Harold as a prisoner, and to extract from his friends as large a sum as
possible in the shape of ransom. It gives us a curious insight into the
state of society in those days, to observe that no one disputed the
right of Guy to seize the person and property of a stranger, who,
without hostile intent, had ventured upon his shores, or, as some
believe, had been driven there by mischance. Harold had no friend at
hand to release him from his unpleasant position. His active and clever
rival, William of Normandy, hearing of his circumstances, immediately
put forth the most strenuous and apparently generous efforts to effect
his enlargement, thereby laying him under very serious obligations. It
is the object of the succeeding portions of the Tapestry to place these
efforts in a strong light, and by implication to show the ingratitude of
Harold in opposing William’s claims to the English throne.

The first scene represents Harold proceeding to the residence of his
captor. The expression given to the unlucky Earl is one of deep
dejection. He is stripped of the cloak which marked his nobility; and
though he carries his hawk upon his fist, its usual posture is reversed,
an intimation that his hawking days are over. Harold is well guarded by
a party of armed horsemen. Guy rides before, clad in the decorative
mantle of his rank, and having the falcon upon his fist, with its head
advanced as if ready to take wing. The artist has very successfully
portrayed in the countenance of Guy the chuckling conceit of this
heartless chieftain in the possession of so rich a prize as Harold.

The next group of standing figures is supposed to represent some of
Harold’s party, distinguished by the mustache, in custody of Guy’s
soldiers.

Harold, indignant at the unjust treatment which he had received,

[Illustration: PLATE III.]

sought an interview with the Count, no doubt feeling sure that he would
be able to make such a representation of his case, or to offer such
inducements, as would infallibly lead to his immediate release. An
interview was granted. The inscription over the next scene is “UBI
HAROLD ET WIDO PARABOLANT”--Where Harold and Guy converse. Guy is seated
(_Plate III._) with great pomp upon an elevated seat. His throne is less
ornate than that of the Confessor, to mark no doubt the difference
between a King and a Count, and it is without a cushion, but it is
decorated with dogs’ heads and claws, which are so frequently introduced
into all the work of that period. His feet, as is usual with persons of
rank, rest upon a footstool, having in this instance three steps. Guy
holds a naked sword with its point turned upwards; he is attended by a
guard, who is armed with a sword of prodigious size, and a spear. This
attendant touches the elbow of his chief with one hand, and with the
forefinger of the other points to some object, probably the messengers
of William, who are now approaching. Harold, though suffered to wear the
chlamys of nobility, comes into the presence of the haughty Count in a
slightly inclining posture. He feels he is at the mercy of his captor.
He has a sword, but its point is directed to the ground. His companion
has neither cloak nor sword. From the arrogant bearing of Guy in this
picture we cannot doubt that the unhappy Harold returned to his prison
more disconsolate than before.

But, help was at hand. There is a figure, which we have not observed, at
one extremity of the audience chamber. He is a very attentive but
apparently an unobserved witness of the interview. His party-coloured
dress and the vandyked fringe of his tunic have suggested the idea that
this personage is the court jester.[42] The court fool was usually a
very shrewd person, and having, on account of his presumed simplicity,
access to his master at all times, was a very convenient agent in court
intrigue. This wily personage seems to have found means to acquaint
William with the untoward position of the English ambassador, for the
next scene is entitled UBI NUNTII WILIELMI DUCIS VENERUNT AD
WIDONEM--Where the messengers of William came to Guy.

William on one occasion owed his life to the friendly interference of a
jester. Wace thus relates the story:--Guy of Burgundy, who was a near
relative of William’s, became envious of him, and resolved to disinherit
him. Assembling several powerful barons, who were as discontented as
himself, he said, “There was not any heir who had a better right to
Normandy than himself.... He was no bastard, but born in wedlock; and if
right was done, Normandy would belong to him. If they would support him
in his claim, he would divide it with them.” So, at length, he said so
much, and promised so largely, that they swore to support him according
to their power in making war on William, and to seek his disherison by
force or treason. Then they stored their castles, dug fosses, and
erected barricades, William knowing nothing of their preparations. He
was at that time sojourning at Valognes, for his pleasure as well as on
business; and had been engaged for several days hunting and shooting in
the woods. One evening, late, his train had left his court, and all had
gone to rest at the hostels where they lodged, except those who were of
his household; and he himself was laid down. Whether he slept or not, I
do not know, but in the season of the first sleep, a fool named Golet
came, with a staff slung at his neck, crying out at the chamber door,
and beating the wall with the staff; “_Ovrez!_” said he, “_ovrez!
ovrez!_ ye are dead men: _levez! levez!_ Where art thou laid, William?
Wherefore dost thou sleep? If thou art found here thou wilt die; thy
enemies are arming around; if they find thee here thou wilt never quit
the Cotentin, nor live till the morning!” Then William was greatly
alarmed; he rose up, and stood as a man sorely dismayed. He asked no
further news, for it seemed unlikely to bring him any good. He was in
his breeches and shirt, and putting a cloak around his neck, he seized
his horse quickly, and was soon upon the road. I know not whether he
even stopped to seek for his spurs, but he hasted on till he came to the
fords nearest at hand, which were those of Vire, and crossed them by
night in fear and great anger.[43]

Had the fool not thus opportunely aroused him--had he not acted with
peculiar promptitude--had he not received important assistance in the
course of his journey from a faithful vassal, who facilitated his
flight, and led his pursuers off the track--we should never have heard
of William the Conqueror. As it was, he got safely next day to his own
castle at Falaise. “If he were in bad plight,” says Wace, “what matters
it, so that he got safe.”

The result of the fool’s interference in behalf of Harold soon appears.
We are now introduced to two personages, sent by Duke William, who, in
their master’s name, demand the deliverance of the captive. Guy is
standing, and wears a haughty air. He holds an axe in his hand, by way
of asserting that he has the power of life or death over his prisoner.
He is partially habited in the costume of war. Under his chlamys he
wears a tunic of scale armour, probably composed of overlapping pieces
of leather. This dress, though not so secure as one of mail, would
nevertheless present considerable resistance to the stroke of a weapon.
Odo is represented as wearing a dress somewhat similar in the battle of
Hastings; also a figure which I take to be William approaching Mount St.
Michael. His hose are composed of party-coloured materials; several
other personages in the Tapestry, chiefly individuals of consequence,
are so adorned. The Saxons, and probably the Normans also, were in the
habit of protecting their legs in the day of battle by binding them
round with slips of leather or other material. Guy has an armed
attendant, standing aloof, but ready to act; and the two messengers of
William apparently press their mission with great vigour. The legend of
this is, UBI NUNTII WILIELMI DUCIS VENERUNT AD WIDONEM--Where the
messengers of Duke William came to Guy. The horses of the messengers
stand hard by, held by a _dwarf_, who, although he wears a beard, is
evidently a Norman, for his hair is shaven off the back of his head.
Over this little fellow, in the Tapestry, is written the word TUROLD.
Who this personage was we have no means of knowing. He may have been
some favourite with the ladies employed upon the embroidery, who adopted
this mode of conferring immortality upon him; or, as Miss Agnes
Strickland has suggested, he may have been the artist who was employed
to design the Tapestry, and who, though he could not with historic truth
be introduced into any of the principal scenes, yet, very laudably,
wished for a place upon the canvas. It is, however, important to
observe, that the son of a person named Turold occurs in the Domesday
Survey, among the under-tenants of Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, for the county
of Essex.[44] The celebrated Norman ballad _The Song of Roland_ seems to
have had for its author a person of the name of Turold, if we may credit
its concluding lines, “And so endeth the history sung of Turoldus.”[45]
This inscription bears upon the subject of the authenticity of the
Tapestry. Had the work been constructed some considerable period after
the events which it describes, it must have been compiled from historic
documents, and so have contained none but historic personages. As it is,
there are several individuals introduced to us in the Tapestry of which
we have no trace in the chronicles of the day, but with which the
draftsman takes it for granted that all are as familiar as himself--a
very natural and very common oversight. The house, divided into three
aisles after the manner of that in which Harold took his parting feast,
is probably intended to represent the palace of the Count.

These messengers having reported their ill success to Duke William, he
immediately sends two others, who gallop to Beaurain at the utmost
speed of their horses. Over them is the inscription, NUNTII
WILLELMI--The messengers of William. A watchman, elevated upon a tree,
observes the movements of this second embassy, probably with the view of
giving William the earliest intelligence respecting it. All this is
cleverly designed, in order to show the deep interest which William took
in the welfare of his captive friend, who was afterwards, according to
the court version of the story, to repay him with so much ingratitude.
These horsemen wear a threatening aspect; they are armed with spear,
shield, and sword; their spears are pointed threateningly towards the
place of their destination. Their shields bear a curious device, a
winged dragon whose tail is twisted in a peculiar manner. This object is
one of constant occurrence in the Tapestry, and seems to be one of
superstitious reverence. Harold’s standard is a dragon. The standard of
the Dacians, as depicted in Trajan’s Column, is a dragon. We have some
others introduced into the ornamental border of the Tapestry. In the
illustrations of _Cædmon’s Paraphrase_, the great dragon Satan is in two
instances figured in a guise nearly resembling these. Whilst in a
heathen state the Saxons and Normans doubtless made the evil one an
object of worship, as most heathen nations have done, and, long after
their reception of Christianity, may, though with questionable taste,
have retained for ornamental purposes the emblem which they had been
accustomed to regard with superstitious reverence.

The transactions we are now considering probably occurred in the spring
of the year at the close of which King Edward died. In the lower margin
of the scenes just reviewed the operations of husbandry peculiar to that
season are portrayed. One man is ploughing. The plough has wheels, and
is very similar to some that are figured in _Cædmon’s Paraphrase_. Next
comes a sower casting the seed into the ground. He conducts the
operation precisely as it has been conducted from that day to this. Next
follows a harrow, drawn by an ox, which wears the yoke upon its neck.
This method of yoking oxen is still common in Normandy.

We are not certain what means William used to bring Guy to his views.
Some chroniclers say he coaxed him, some say he threatened him, and
several maintain that he bribed him by giving him a large tract of land.
This however is certain, that he succeeded in inducing him to relax his
hold of Harold.

The next compartment of the Tapestry exhibits to us William seated on a
throne near his castle gate. He is receiving a messenger, who approaches
him on bended knees. The superscription is, HIC VENIT NUNTIUS AD
WILGELMUM DUCEM--Here a messenger came to Duke William. The peculiarity
of the spelling of the Duke’s name WILGELMUS need not surprise us. At
that day, and for long afterwards, the orthography even of proper names
was not fixed. The G would no doubt be sounded like _y_ or the diphthong
_ie_, as is still the case in certain words in some parts of the North
of England. Who the messenger is we are not informed; he is evidently a
Saxon, and is probably one of Harold’s companions, who has accompanied
William’s ambassadors to Rouen, by way of giving the Duke a pledge of
the success of their commission.

Guy having agreed to deliver up his prisoner, resolves to make a merit
of doing so, and conducts him in person to William’s court. The Duke,
desirous of doing all honour to his expected guest, goes out to meet
him. When the two parties approach, Guy very officiously introduces
Harold to the Duke, and seems to expect great commendations for his zeal
and activity. Harold himself follows Guy, having once again the mantle
of gentle birth on his left shoulder, and carrying his hawk upon his
fist, looking forward, in token of liberty. William sits firmly upon his
horse; his manner is quiet, but very decided; his figure is that of a
strong, square-built man. We know that his muscular powers were very
considerable; this is probably no fancy portrait.

The inscription over this compartment is, HIC WIDO ADDUXIT HAROLDUM AD
WILGELMUM NORMANNORUM DUCEM--Here Guy led Harold to William Duke of the
Normans.

William now accompanies his guest to his palace--probably at Rouen. A
man from a gateway tower looks out and receives the party. The palace of
William is a large and splendid structure. Both it and the castle we
last noticed contrast strongly with those we have previously seen. The
Normans were great builders. Whilst they were frugal in their household
expenditure, they erected elegant habitations for themselves; the Saxons
on the other hand (at least so say the chroniclers) did not care how
they were lodged, but laid out large sums in eating and drinking.[46]
William has a guard standing at his back. A Saxon is addressing him

[Illustration: PLATE IV.]

with considerable vehemence upon some business relating to the French
soldiers, to whom he points. The speaker is probably Harold; but what
the subject of conference is, can only be a subject of conjecture. Can
it be that he is requesting the assistance of an escort to accompany a
messenger of his to England to inform his friends of his happy release
from captivity?

In the border above the palace are a pair of pea-fowls. This is probably
intended to give us an idea of the splendour of William’s court. In the
middle ages no feast was complete excepting this bird made its
appearance on the table, arrayed, after being taken from the spit, in
all its gorgeous plumage. The feathers of this bird were in great
request among our Saxon nobles as a means of decorating their halls.

The next compartment presents great difficulties. It is headed, UBI UNUS
CLERICUS ET ÆLFGYVA--Where a clerk and Ælfgyva [converse]. It evidently
refers to a transaction with which the court of Duke William were well
acquainted, but of which the chroniclers have given us no account.

_Ælfgyva_ is a Saxon word, signifying a present from the genii.[47]
Emma, the wife of Ethelred, and some other English Queens, are
occasionally by Saxon authors styled Ælfgyva; hence the term has been
considered a descriptive title rather than a proper name. On this
account some writers conceive that Queen Matilda is the individual here
presented to our notice. If, however, the term Ælfgyva was a descriptive
one, and applicable only to a Saxon Queen, it could not at this period
of the narrative belong to her, for William had not then obtained the
English throne. Other authors consider that Agatha, a daughter of
William, is the lady in question. Her name is written by Wace, Ele; and
by some authors she is confounded with her sister Adeliza. When Harold
swore to support William in his pretensions to the throne, he agreed to
receive Agatha in marriage. This lady’s subsequent history is confused.
William of Malmesbury says she died before she was marriageable.
Ordericus Vitalis gives the following account of her--“His daughter
Agatha, who had been betrothed to Harold, was afterwards demanded in
marriage by Alphonzo, King of Galicia, and delivered to his proxies to
be conducted to him. But she, who had lost her former spouse, who was to
her liking, felt extreme repugnance to marry another. The Englishman she
had seen and loved, but the Spaniard she was more averse to because she
had never set eyes on him. She therefore fervently prayed to God that
she might never be carried into Spain, but that he would rather take her
to himself. Her prayers were heard, and she died a virgin while she was
upon the road.” She, however, cannot be the Ælfgyva of the Tapestry.
Making every allowance for the varities of her name, it would scarcely
have been so written in her father’s court; as she was never Queen, the
descriptive epithet could not with propriety have been applied to her;
and as at the time of Harold’s visit to Normandy she was but a child, we
cannot suppose that any formal embassage would be sent to her respecting
the release of the English Earl, or any other subject.

The lady in question is probably Algitha, the widow of Griffith King of
Wales, and sister to Edwin and Morcar, Earls of Mercia and
Northumberland, whom Harold must have married shortly after his return
to England, as his second wife.[48] Her name, as it is written by
Florence of Worcester, and some other chroniclers, differs but little
from Ælfgyva; besides, as Queen of England, she was entitled to the
epithet. If this supposition be correct, the force of the introduction
of this lady and the clerk into the Tapestry is considerable. The whole
object of this part of the drawing is to display in glowing colours the
generous kindness of William and the base treachery of Harold. Now if,
as we may reasonably suppose, Harold had set his affections upon this
lady before his departure for Normandy, and if, as we have conjectured,
he had, on being rescued, sent, by William’s assistance, messengers to
England to announce his safety, a special and loving message to the
queen of his affections would not be forgotten. The clerk certainly
approaches her in a jocose manner, and undoubtedly has some agreeable
intelligence to communicate. Now if Harold acted thus while enjoying
William’s hospitality, and solemnly undertaking to marry his daughter
Agatha as soon as she became of fitting age, his conduct was most
unjustifiable; and it was peculiarly suitable to the object for which
the Tapestry was prepared to expose it. Harold, before leaving England,
may have placed his lady for temporary protection in some nunnery, which
we may suppose to be indicated by the narrow and confined building in
which Ælfgyva stands. In this case none was so proper to approach her as
a priest. The employment of a person of the clerical order was moreover
necessary, as few of the laity could read or write. The individual in
the Tapestry has a shaven crown, but is dressed in ordinary attire.
William of Malmesbury tells us that the Saxon clergy were not fond of
any distinctive dress.

In the whole course of the Tapestry only three females are presented to
our view--Ælfgyva, a mourning relative by the dying bed of the
Confessor, and a woman forced by the flames from her dwelling at
Hastings. This circumstance surely proves the modesty and retiring
habits of the Saxon and Norman ladies.

As our ladies are scarce, let us pay them minute attention. The dress of
the Saxon women varied very little during the long period that elapsed
between the eighth and the end of the eleventh century; by thoroughly
enveloping the whole body, it consulted the modest feelings of the sex,
whilst its graceful folds gave considerable elegance to the person.
Antiquaries are inquiring men. They do not like to leave any subject
unexamined. That judicious inquirer, Strutt, finds some little
difficulty in investigating the undermost garment worn by the Saxon
ladies; he manages it, however, with great adroitness and delicacy. His
words are worth quoting:--

“In the foregoing chapter it has been clearly proved that the shirt
formed part of the dress of the men; and surely we cannot hesitate a
moment to conclude that the women were equally tenacious of delicacy in
their habit, and of course were not destitute of body-linen: the remains
of antiquity it is true afford not sufficient authority to prove the
fact; yet the presumptive argument founded upon female delicacy weighs
so strongly in the scale, that I conclude this supposition to be
consonant with the truth.”[49] Over this undermost garment came another,
which was only seen when the lower portion of the _gunna_, or gown, had
been pushed aside; it was made of linen or some other light material.
Next came the gown, consisting usually of some strong stuff. It fell
down to the feet, and was sometimes girt round the waist by a band. The
sleeves near the wrist were usually made very full, and hung down after
the manner lately in use among ourselves. A mantle was worn over this by
ladies of rank. It was probably fastened by a fibula, or brooch. The
woman coming out of the burning house (_Plate XI._) belongs probably to
the lower orders, for she has not a mantle. A head-cover, or kerchief,
was an indispensable part of the dress of Saxon ladies, whether high or
low. It enveloped the head, concealing the hair entirely; the ends of it
fell upon the shoulders.

In the time of Rufus and Henry I. the dress of the ladies, which had
remained so long stationary, felt the stimulus of the Conquest. “The
sleeves of their robes and their kerchiefs appear in the illuminations
of that period knotted up, to prevent their trailing on the ground. Some
of the sleeves have cuffs hanging from the wrist down to the heels, and
of the most singular forms.”[50] An ancient monk has drawn the evil one
attired in this way, in order no doubt to throw discredit upon the
fashion. The hair also was no longer concealed, but hung down in plaits
on each side of the person as far as the waist. A statue of Matilda,
wife of Henry I., on the west door-way of Rochester Cathedral, exhibits
this usage. Had the Tapestry been executed in the days of this Queen,
Ælfgyva’s sleeves would have been fuller than they are, and her hair
would have hung down in graceful ringlets.

IV. THE KNIGHTHOOD.

    “Young knight whatever, that dost armes professe,
     And through long labours huntest after fame,
     Beware of fraud”----

                              _Faerie Queene_

When Rollo and his brave companions, emigrating from Northern Europe at
the end of the ninth century, got a firm hold of Rouen and the
surrounding district, they were as far from being satisfied us ever.
They ravaged every part of France, carrying their arms even into
Burgundy. Charles the Simple, who had already yielded Normandy to them,
harrassed by these unceasing hostilities, sought to purchase peace by
the cession of another portion of his dominions. He offered Rollo the
land between the river Epte and Brittany, if he would become a Christian
and live in peace; but, though Charles threw his daughter into the
scale, Rollo would not agree, for the territory was too small, and the
lands uncultivated. He next offered him Flanders, which, by the way, was
not his to give; but Rollo rejected it because it was boggy and full of
marshes. He then offered him Brittany, which Rollo accepted.[51]
Brittany, however, claimed to be a free state, and its inhabitants were
a spirited and energetic race, not likely to yield allegiance where none
was due. In accepting Brittany, therefore, Rollo obtained little better
than an old quarrel. Continual wars, and a national enmity, between the
states, was the only result of the gift.

We can here scarcely help observing by what a rare conjunction of
circumstances it was that William, who from his boyhood had been at war
with all the neighbouring states, and who a few months before the
invasion of England, was engaged in active hostilities with the Count of
Brittany, had leisure to undertake the great event of his life, could
leave his duchy and drain it of his troops, without being exposed to the
devastations of angry neighbours, and, not only so, but could obtain for
his great enterprise the powerful assistance of those rival chiefs with
whom he had so often been at variance, not even excepting the Counts of
Ponthieu and Brittany. The most careless observer cannot but mark in
this the finger of Providence.

But to return to our worsted work. Conan Earl of Bretagne being at this
juncture at war with Duke William, and having drawn the Earl of Anjou
into alliance with him, the two naturally agreed upon a given day to
invade Normandy with their united forces. The Duke was however too much
upon his guard, and too lively, to wait for them in his own dominions.
He raised a considerable body of troops; and, knowing Harold to be a
brave soldier, and fond of showing his valour, invited him and his
companions to go with him upon this expedition; which Harold readily
agreed to do. This was a clever stroke of policy. He not only procured
the valuable assistance of Harold and his companions, all

[Illustration: PLATE V.]

the more valuable in consequence of the experience they had gained in
Wales, but obtained ample opportunities of studying the character of the
man whom he could not but look upon as his great rival. He had the
means, in their lengthened intercourse, of showing him great attentions,
and thus of apparently laying him under great obligations. But, above
all, he induced Harold by this step to excite the enmity of the men of
Brittany against himself. That William should make war upon them was no
more than the custom of the country, but what right had the Saxon to
interfere in their affairs? They could not, and did not, forget this on
the field of Hastings.

The campaign in Brittany is described more fully in the Tapestry than in
any of the chronicles, and some events are there depicted, such as the
surrender of Dinan, which are not mentioned in any of them. William and
his party setting out upon their expedition (_Plate V._) pass the
neighbourhood of Mount St. Michael. The inscription is, HIC WILLEM DUX
ET EXERCITUS EJUS VENERUNT AD MONTEM MICHAELIS--Here Duke William and
his army came to Mount St. Michael. This mount consists of a solitary
cone of granite rising out of a wide, level expanse of sand, which at
high tide is nearly covered by the sea. It is a very conspicuous object,
and is seen on all sides from a great distance. A little to the south of
St. Michael’s Mount, the river Coësnon, which forms the boundary between
Normandy and Brittany, joins the sea. At this point the waters of the
ocean, in consequence of the contracting boundaries of the bay lying
between Brest and Cape la Hogue, rise with great impetuosity and to a
great height. The fording of the river, therefore, in the vicinity of
the sea is often a hazardous undertaking. To add to the difficulties of
travellers, the sand which covers the plain around St. Michael’s Mount,
and extends some distance inland and along the bed of the river, is an
exceedingly fine, white, marly dust, which, when covered with water,
affords most treacherous footing. The beds of sand, moreover, frequently
shift according to the varying currents of the tide, so that even a well
accustomed traveller may get wrong. These statements have prepared us
for the disasters which befel the party in crossing into Brittany. The
legend here is, ET HIC TRANSIERUNT FLUMEN COSNONIS--And here they
crossed the river Coësnon--Most of the group, mistrusting the
treacherous ford, have dismounted. One individual more venturesome than
the rest reaps the consequences of his rashness. All those on foot do
not, however, entirely escape. Harold is represented rescuing two of
them from their difficulties; one he bears upon his back, the other he
drags by the hand. The inscription is--HIC HAROLD DUX TRAHEBAT EOS DE
ARENA--Here Harold the Earl dragged them out of the quicksand.

The fishes and the eels in the lower border are an appropriate ornament.
The draftsman has here indulged in a little play of fancy. A man, with
knife in hand, in trying to catch one of the eels, tumbles; his toe is
caught by a wolf, whose tail is in turn seized by an eagle, and so the
chapter of accidents proceeds.

The difficulty of the ford being got over, our party continued their
march towards Dol, which is here represented by a castle. The
inscription is, ET VENERUNT AD DOL--And they came to Dol. The present
town of Dol is a remarkable place, bearing thoroughly the aspect of
ancient days. Its walls are tolerably perfect. However antique its walls
and houses, its market presents us with traces of an antiquity greatly
exceeding theirs. Large quantities of pottery, resembling in form and
substance the commoner kinds used by the Romans, are here exposed for
sale. It is curious to see Roman taste, as exhibited in such fragile
articles, outliving the lapse of so many centuries.

As has been already stated, Conan intended to invade William, who,
however, anticipated him. The Duke moreover came upon him unexpectedly,
and found him engaged in settling a private quarrel with Rual, to whom
the seigneury of the city of Dol belonged. The moment the forces of
William made their appearance before the gates of Dol, Conan was
constrained to flee, and take refuge in Rennes, the capital of Brittany.
His army is represented in the Tapestry as fleeing to the city, pursued
by the troops of the Norman Duke. Over this scene is the legend, ET
CONAN FUGA VERTIT--And Conan betakes himself to flight.

Rual, the lord of Dol, was but little benefited by the retreat of Conan.
William’s forces scoured the country, and supplied their own wants at
the expense of the inhabitants. Rual very politely thanked William for
his deliverance, but hinted that if his army continued making such
depredations everywhere, it was the same to him whether his country was
ruined by Bretons or Normans. William issued orders prohibiting further
devastation. A man is seen in the Tapestry letting himself down by a
cord from the battlements of the castle; this, it has been conjectured,
is the messenger sent to Duke William. A castle represents the city of
Rennes, over which is inscribed the word REDNES.

We next meet with the town of Dinan. The inscription reads, HIC MILITES
WILLELMI DUCIS PUGNANT CONTRA DINANTES--Here the soldiers of William
attack Dinan. The place is undergoing all the calamities of a siege.
Some of William’s party are assailing it, but their onset is met by the
exertions of the garrison. Others apply flames to the structure. We
learn from the Tapestry that the castle was obliged to yield, and we see
that the act of surrender is conducted in a very formal manner (_Plate
VI_). An inhabitant of the town, probably Conan himself, (_ET CUNAN
CLAVES PORREXIT_--And Conan reached out the keys) is seen handing out
the keys upon a lance, and they are received in a similar way by one of
the chiefs of the attacking party. Both spears are adorned with a pennon
or banner.[52] As we have no account of this siege in the chronicles, we
can only gather its history from the stitches before us. Most likely
William was satisfied with the formal submission of Conan, and quietly
withdrew his forces. We do not in the Tapestry observe any of the
invading troops entering the town.

Before proceeding further, we may notice some of the prominent

[Illustration: PLATE VI.]

features of the castles which have been presented to our view. All of
them are built upon elevated mounds. This was certainly one of the
characteristics of an early Norman fortress. Further, we see that they
were surrounded by a fosse, the section of which, in the Tapestry, is
very boldly marked. In the case of Dinan, we have a barricade on the
outside of this entrenchment. Besides these outworks, the castles
consist of an outer fortification, or bailey, and of an interior
building, or keep. The colouring of these structures may be purely
fanciful, but I am disposed to think that the vertical stripes which we
see upon some of them represent timber. The remains of some castles in
Cornwall incontestably prove that, occasionally at least, the outside of
the walls was braced with timber.[53] The walls of Guildford Castle are
pierced with holes, which we are told were made for the scaffolding, and
in order to hasten the drying of the mortar were left unfilled, and have
since remained so. Is it not more likely that these cavities were
formerly occupied by bolts for fastening an outside timber-casing to the
walls?

But to proceed with Queen Matilda’s narrative. The campaign in Brittany
being brought to a satisfactory conclusion, the honours of knighthood
awaited the Saxon Earl. William himself confers upon him the envied
dignity. The superscription is HIC WILELMUS DEDIT HAROLDO ARMA--Here
William gave arms to Harold. Both parties are shown in the Tapestry
armed cap-a-pie. Harold holds in his hand the banner which, by virtue of
the rank now bestowed upon him, he is entitled to bear. William is seen
placing with one hand the helmet on Harold’s head, and with the other
bracing the straps of his hauberk.

The Norman Duke, in conferring the honour of knighthood upon his adopted
son in arms, doubtless exhorted him to fight valiantly in the cause of
God and the ladies, and especially to bear himself gallantly against any
one who should disparage the beauty of that one lady to whom he had
plighted his troth. In this way William strengthened the meshes which he
had already cast over Harold.

It has been noticed that the mode of conferring knighthood used on this
occasion is a compromise between the Norman and Saxon methods. Ingulphus
tells us that the ministrations of a priest were required when
knighthood was conferred among the Saxons, but that the Normans regarded
it entirely as a military ceremony.[54] Further, whilst the Normans,
whose military strength lay in cavalry, performed the ceremony on
horseback, the Saxons, who had no cavalry, always performed it on foot.
In the case before us the ceremony is performed on foot, but without the
agency of a priest. According to Wace, the ceremony of knighthood took
place before the commencement of the campaign in Brittany. This is one
of those variations which prove the independence of each authority.

William and Harold, who had been sojourning so long together, fighting
side by side, living in the same tent, eating at the same board, now
came to Bayeux (WILLELMVS VENIT BAGIAS--William came to Bayeux), and
here the Saxon Earl came under that obligation the breach of which
filled men’s minds with horror and indignation. William could not but be
aware that Harold intended to seize the crown of England on the death of
the Confessor; he resolved therefore to avail himself of the present
opportunity of throwing as many obstacles in his path as possible.
Considering that Harold had come over professedly to announce to William
that he was to be the successor to the Confessor, considering the very
friendly terms on which they had now for some time been, and the very
great obligations under which the Norman Duke had laid him, he could not
refuse to take the oath. He no doubt felt, moreover, that he was in
William’s power, and knew full well that unless he complied with his
demand he would not be allowed to return to his native shores. He
therefore swore to support his rival’s claims to the English throne. As
the perjury of Harold was one of the pleas most successfully urged by
William against his opponent, it invites our careful attention. Our
faithful chronicler Wace gives us a full account of the transaction.--

“To receive the oath William caused a parliament to be called. It is
commonly said that it was at Bayeux that he had his great council
assembled. He sent for all the holy bodies thither, and put so many of
them together as to fill a whole chest, and then covered them with a
pall; but Harold neither saw them, nor knew of their being there; for
nought was shown or told him about it; and over all was a philactery,
the best that he could select.... When Harold placed his hand upon it,
the hand trembled and the flesh quivered; but he swore and promised upon
his oath to take Ele to wife, and to deliver up England to the Duke; and
thereunto to do all in his power, according to his might and wit, after
the death of Edward, if he should live, so help him God and the holy
relics there! Many cried ‘God grant it!’ and when Harold had kissed the
saints and had risen upon his feet, the Duke led him up to the chest and
made him stand near it, and took off the chest the pall that had covered
it, and showed Harold upon what holy relics he had sworn; he was sorely
alarmed at the sight.”[55]

In this account there is a little inconsistency. We are told of Harold’s
amazement when he had seen the relics, but we were previously informed
that when he first placed his hand upon the chest “the hand trembled and
the flesh quivered.” If he did not know that dead men’s bones were under
the pall he must have suspected it; he must have known that this was the
customary mode of taking an oath.[56]

In the Tapestry, Harold stands between two objects. One of them is a
reliquary of the usual form, to which two staves are attached for the
purpose of carriage. This reliquary has, however, a _superaltare_
attached to it, such as is usually placed upon altars for the purpose of
containing the consecrated wafer. The other object is an altar of the
usual form and character. There does not seem to have been much
temptation to William to practise a trick upon Harold, for he had so
completely committed himself to the Duke that he could not avoid taking
the oath, even though no covering had concealed the bones. But whether
William did or did not practise this base artifice upon the Earl, it was
natural that the Tapestry, being the work of Matilda, should endeavour
to throw a veil over it. He is certainly in the Tapestry exhibited as
swearing by the relics in the chest and by the host upon the altar, and
he evidently touches them as if he knew they contained something very
dreadful--he could not approach red-hot iron much more charily. We can
readily conceive that after the ceremony William, by way of making as
lively an impression as possible upon the mind of his victim, displayed
the bones to him in all their sepulchral hideousness, and told them out
in full tale before him. In such a case Harold might readily shrink from
the exhibition, and be surprised at the number of martyrs which
William’s diligence had brought together. William was too brave a man to
attempt the mean artifice which historians ascribe to him. Harold never
accused him of it. When reminded before the battle of Hastings, by a
messenger of the Duke’s, of the oath he had taken, he sent this answer
back, “Say to the Duke that I desire he will not remind me of my
covenant nor of my oath; if I ever foolishly made it and promised him
any thing, I did it for my liberty. I swore in order to get my freedom;
whatever he asked I agreed to; and I ought not to be reproached, for I
did nothing of my own free will.”[57]

But after all, this oath of Harold’s was not in the estimation of the
men of that day the serious thing that has been represented. Men whom an
oath taken in the name and in the presence of the living God could not
bind, were not to be restrained by any moral influence. A little
ingenuity only was requisite to release a man from an oath taken upon
the relics. In the _Roman de Rou_ we have a case in point.[58] At Val de
Dunes the rebel lords of Normandy appeared in arms against the Duke.
Before the opposing hosts joined, Raol Tesson, who was arrayed against
William, was seen to act with hesitancy. His men besought him not to
make war upon his lawful lord, whatever he did, reminding him that the
man who would fight against his lord had no right to fief or barony.
Raol could understand this argument, but what was he to do? he “had
pledged himself, and sworn upon the saints at Bayeux to smite William
wherever he should find him.” The difficulty was however got over.
Ordering his men to rest where they were, “he came spurring over the
plain, struck his lord with his glove, and said laughingly to him, ‘What
I have sworn to do that I perform; I had sworn to smite you as soon as
I should find you; and as I would not perjure myself, I have now struck
you to acquit myself of my oath, and henceforth I will do you no farther
wrong or felony.’ Then the Duke said, ‘Thanks to thee!’ and Raol
thereupon went on his way back to his men.” Success attended the side
which Raol thus espoused, and we hear nothing of his perjury. Harold
fell on the hard-fought field of Hastings, and heaven and earth
resounded with cries of horror at the foul sin. Had he won, a new abbey,
or the re-imposition of Peter’s pence, would have cleared off the score.

Harold was now permitted to return home. The ship in which he sailed is
represented in the Tapestry. Over the scene is the inscription, HIC
HAROLD DUX REVERSUS EST AD ANGLICAM TERRAM--Here Harold the Earl
returned to England. His approach to the shore is anxiously looked for
by a watchman on the top of the gate-tower of his palace at Bosham. On
reaching the land of his nativity Harold lost no time in repairing to
court--ET VENIT AD EDWARDVM REGEM--And came to Edward the King. At the
beginning of Plate VII. we see him in the presence of his sovereign, who
reprimands him, as we have already observed (p. 28), for the miscarriage
of his Commission.

V. THE SUCCESSION.

    “Crowned but to die.”----

                      _Rogers._

The latter days of Edward the Confessor were embittered by the prospect
of those evils which he saw were coming upon England. On the Easter day
before he died he held his court at Westminster. William of Malmesbury
tells us that “While the rest were greedily eating, and making up for
the long fast of Lent by the newly-provided viands, he was absorbed in
the contemplation of some divine matter, when presently he excited the
attention of the guests by bursting into profuse laughter.” On earnest
enquiry being made of him as to this unusual circumstance, he said “that
the seven sleepers in Mount Cœlius, who had lain for two hundred years
on their right side, had now turned upon their left; that they would
continue to lie in this manner for seventy-four years, which would be a
dreadful omen to wretched mortals. Nation would rise against nation, and
kingdom against kingdom; earthquakes would be in divers places;
pestilence and famine, terrors from heaven, and great signs; changes in
kingdoms; wars of the gentiles against the Christians, and also
victories of the Christians over the pagans.”[59]

This was not the only vision he had. On one occasion he had lain two
days speechless; on the third, sadly and deeply sighing as he awoke from
his torpor, he said, that two monks from Normandy whom he had known in
his youth had appeared to him, and had spoken to the following
effect:--“Since the chiefs of England, the dukes, bishops, and abbots,
are not the ministers of God, but of the devil, God, after your death,
will deliver this kingdom, for a year and a day into the hands of the
enemy, and devils shall wander over all the land.”[60]

Borne down by these painful anticipations, Edward rapidly sank. Feeling
death approach, he hastened the completion of the abbey church of
Westminster, in which he designed that his body should be laid. He lived
to realize this his last care. Roger of Wendover says, “Edward King of
England, held his court at Christmas (1065) at Westminster; and, on the
blessed Innocents’ day, caused the church which he had erected from its
foundations, outside the city of London, to be dedicated with great pomp
in honour of St. Peter, the prince of the apostles; but both before and
during the solemn festival of this dedication, the King was confined
with severe illness.” At length “the pacific King Edward, the glory of
England, the son of King Ethelred, exchanged a temporal for an eternal
kingdom, in the fourth indiction, on the vigil of our Lord’s Epiphany,
being the fifth day of the week. The day after his death the most
blessed King was buried at London, in the church which he himself had
built in a new and costly style of architecture, which was afterwards
adopted by numbers.”[61]

The Tapestry exhibits to us the church of St. Peter at Westminster, and
the funeral procession of the recently departed monarch. The church is a
building of the Norman style in its greatest simplicity. As is usual in
cathedrals and conventual churches of the first class, it has its tower
in the centre, and is provided with transepts. The weathercock may
perhaps excite attention, as proving that this appendage of our churches
is no novelty. It appears in the Saxon illustrations of Cædmon. But what
is particularly worthy of our notice is, that a workman appears to be in
the act of affixing it. By this, the designer of the Tapestry means to
show that the church was but just completed when the interment of the
Confessor took place. A hand appears over the western end of the church
to denote the finger of Providence, and to indicate that it was the will
of God that the remains of the departed King should be deposited in that
building. A similar hand appears on the coins of some of the Roman
emperors, and in several of the sculptures of the catacombs at Rome.
This is another indication that the artist was acquainted with the Roman
method of treating such subjects.

We next meet with the funeral of the King. The circumstance which
chiefly strikes us in it is its simplicity. No gilded cross is borne
before the body. No candles, lighted or unlighted, are carried in
procession. The attendants, clerical and lay, wear their ordinary
dresses. Two youths go by the side of the bier, ringing bells. That the
persons who follow the bearers are ecclesiastics is evident from their
shaven crowns. Two of them have books, from

[Illustration: PLATE VII.]

which they chant some requiem. Only one of them has a mantle, betokening
him to be a person of importance. The body, agreeably to the Saxon
custom, has been wound up in a cloth, fastened with transverse
bandages.[62] It is carried head-foremost. At a date not long subsequent
to the Conquest it was usual to carry the bodies of princes to the grave
fully exposed to view, dressed in all the habiliments of state. The
body, on arriving at the place of sepulture, would be deposited in the
stone coffin that was prepared to receive it.[63] The legend here is,
HIC PORTATUR CORPUS EADWARDI REGIS AD ECCLESIAM SANCTI PETRI
APOSTOLI--Here the body of King Edward is carried to the church of St.
Peter the Apostle.

On proceeding to the next compartment we are surprised at being
introduced into the chamber of the dying King, whose remains we have
already seen conducted to the grave. Some writers think that here the
artist has been guilty of an oversight, or that the fair ladies who
carried out his design have been very inattentive to their instructions.
The seeming inconsistency is very easily explained. A new subject is now
entered upon, and that subject is the right of succession. One
important element in it is the grant of the King. The historian of the
Tapestry, in discussing this very important part of his design, found it
necessary to revert to the scenes which preceded the death of the
Confessor, and to the directions which in his last moments he had given.

The narrative which Wace gives us of the last hours of the King agrees
well with the Tapestry. “The day came that no man can escape, and King
Edward drew near to die. He had it much at heart that William should
have his kingdom, if possible; but he was too far off, and it was too
long to tarry for him, and Edward could not defer his hour. He lay in
heavy sickness, in the illness whereof he was to die; and he was very
weak, for death pressed hard upon him. Then Harold assembled his
kindred, and sent for his friends and other people, and entered into the
King’s chamber, taking with him whomsoever he pleased. An Englishman
began to speak first, as Harold had directed him, and said, ‘Sire, we
sorrow greatly that we are about to lose thee; and we are much alarmed,
and fear that great trouble may come upon us. No heir of thine remains
who may comfort us after thy death.... On this account the people weep
and cry aloud, and say they are ruined, and that they shall never have
peace again, if thou failest them. And in this I trow they say truly;
for without a king they will have no peace, and a king they cannot have,
save through thee.... Behold the best of thy people, the noblest of thy
friends; all are come to beseech thee, and thou must grant their prayer
before thou goest hence, or thou wilt not see God. All come to implore
thee that Harold may be King of this land. We can give thee no better
advice, and no better canst thou do.’ As soon as he had named Harold,
all the English in the chamber cried out that he said well, and that the
King ought to give heed to him. ‘Sire!’ they said, ‘if thou dost it not
we shall never in our lives have peace.’ Then the King sat up in his
bed, and turned his face to the English there, and said, ‘Seigniors! you
well know, and have oft-times heard, that I have given my realm at my
death to the Duke of Normandy; and as I have given it, so have some
among you sworn that it shall go.’ But Harold, who stood by, said,
‘Whatever thou hast heretofore done, sire! consent now that I shall be
King, and that your land be mine. I wish for no other title, and want no
one to do any thing more for me.’ So the King turned round and said,
whether of his own free will I know not,--‘Let the English make either
the Duke or Harold king, as they please; I consent.’ So he let the
barons have their own will.”[64] This narrative bears all the marks of
probability, and is quite consistent with the representations of the
Tapestry. The circumstance of the dying monarch’s having been
clamorously assailed, at a time when peace is most required, by the
adherents of Harold, in order to induce him to alter the arrangements he
had already made respecting the succession, was calculated to win for
the Duke the sympathy of all right-minded persons.

Still, the question remains, why should Harold have been so anxious to
be nominated the successor of the Confessor?

Three circumstances seem to have constituted a legal claim to the throne
among the Anglo-Saxons--heirship, the appointment of the departed
monarch, and the election of the nobles.

That heirship alone did not constitute a valid claim to the throne is
plain from the will of King Alfred, which has been preserved by Asser.
He there styles himself king of the whole of Wessex, by the consent of
the nobility, _nobilitatis consensu pariter et assensu rex_; and in the
same public act declares that he inherited the kingdom, after his two
brothers Ethelbald and Ethelred, by the will of his father, _de
hereditate, quam pater meus Ethelwulphus ... delegavit_. It is quite
evident, therefore, that a thoroughly valid claim to the crown was of
the triple nature now represented. As neither Harold nor William
belonged to the royal line of England, the remaining sources of right
became of the more importance to them.

Let us now revert to the Tapestry. The feeble condition of the King is
well represented. An attendant is supporting him behind with a pillow,
whilst he makes an attempt to speak. The blackness of death has settled
upon his shrunken countenance. A priest dressed in canonicals stands by,
whose uplifted hand and sorrow-stricken face seem to say that the grand
climax is at hand. A lady at the foot of the bed weeps; she is doubtless
the wife of the Confessor, the sister of Harold. Harold is eagerly
pressing his claim. The legend here is, HIC EADWARDUS REX IN LECTO
ALLOQUIT: FIDELES--Here King Edward on his bed addresses his faithful
attendants. Underneath is a scene, which the inscription explains, ET
HIC DEFUNCTUS EST--And here he is dead. A priest in canonicals is again
present, probably the one we saw above, and two attendants wrap up the
body for burial.

The compartment before us is the only one in the Tapestry in which two
scenes are given in one breadth. This is probably not without design.
The death and burial of Edward, and the election and coronation of
Harold, all took place within eight-and-forty hours. It was of great
importance to Harold to get actual possession of the crown before
William could put in his claim. It was usual in these times to perform
the ceremonies of coronation only at one of the great festivals of the
church. Edward died on the last day but one of Christmas, and for Harold
to wait till Easter, the next festival, was to throw away the important
advantage which he had gained over his rival. Hence the rapidity with
which the coronation of Harold followed the death of the Confessor. It
is to show, that no sooner had the vital spirit fled than preparations
for the burial were begun, that we have the two scenes in the same
compartment.

The next pictures represent the election and coronation of Harold.
William of Malmesbury says, “While the grief for the King’s death was
yet fresh, Harold, on the very day of the Epiphany, seized the diadem,
and extorted from the nobles their consent; though the English say, that
it was granted him by the King.”

In many respects the Tapestry is more candid than the Chroniclers. It
here says, HIC DEDERUNT HAROLDO CORONAM REGIS--Here they gave the crown
of the King to Harold; and the next legend is, HIC RESIDET HAROLD REX
ANGLORUM--Here is seated Harold, King of the English. One contemporary
writer denies that Harold was anointed at all, or had any claim but his
own usurpation. In the Doomsday Survey, Harold is mentioned as seldom as
possible, and when his name does occur it is not as King Harold, but
Harold the Earl. The Norman chroniclers, writing subsequently to the
time when William had established his conquest, seldom write his name
without appending some derogatory epithet to it, such as “the perfidious
and perjured King Harold.” All this seems to favour the idea that the
Tapestry was designed during the first visit of William to Normandy. He
had not then broken faith with the Saxon nobles who thronged his court;
he was not yet independent of their good will, so that in stating his
own claims to the crown, he found it necessary not entirely to ignore
their views. After he was firmly established, he cared not what women
stitched or clerks wrote.

The artist has managed the election-scene very adroitly. One nobleman,
in the name of the people, offers Harold the crown, which, as he
intimates by the finger directed towards the death-scene of Edward, he
has just taken from the head of that monarch. Harold looks most
wistfully at it. He seems to say--I should like very much to have it,
but I know it does not belong to me. For a moment he forbears to extend
his hand to grasp it. His right elbow is towards it, but his hand
remains upon his belt. On a line with the crown is an axe, held by
another nobleman, somewhat significantly turned towards Harold. Harold
has his own

[Illustration: PLATE VIII.]

axe in his left hand, and it too, though apparently by accident, is
turned towards himself. The Norman artist, in thus managing the subject,
manifestly serves the cause of William better than if he had altogether
disowned the fact of Harold’s election.

That Harold should have been elected by the people is nothing wonderful.
The native population had groaned under the domination of a crowd of
foreigners, brought over by Edward the Confessor. They must have felt
that under William, a Norman by lineage as well as education, the evil
would be perpetuated and increased. Hence they gave their voices most
cordially and unanimously for the Saxon. Most of the English chroniclers
distinctly state, that Harold was duly elected to the office by the
nobles. Thus Roger of Hoveden, following Florence of Worcester, writes,
“After his burial, the Viceroy Harold, son of Earl Godwin, whom before
his decease the king had appointed his successor, was elevated to the
throne by all the chief men of England, and was on the same day, with
due honour, consecrated king.”[65] That Harold did not thrust himself
upon the people, is abundantly proved by the fact that not one man of
Saxon blood deserted him upon the landing of William.

In our days the great reason which rendered a strictly hereditary
succession to the crown inexpedient does not exist. The adoption of that
wise maxim that a monarch can only rule by his ministers, renders the
personal qualifications of the monarch of less importance than in former
days. Still, even in our time, a remnant exists of the ancient form of
election. In the coronation service the king is directed, after
entering the church and attending to his private devotions, to take his
seat, not on the throne, but on the chair before and below the throne,
and there repose himself. Then the first part of the service, called the
“Recognition,” is to be proceeded with. In it the archbishop,
accompanied by the great officers of state, severally addresses the
assembly northwards and southwards, eastwards and westwards, saying,
with a loud voice, the king meanwhile standing up, “Sirs! I here present
unto you ---- the undoubted king of this realm: wherefore all of you who
are come this day to do your homage, are you willing to do the same?” It
is not until the people, thus severally addressed, have signified their
assent by crying out, “God save the king!” that the ceremony is
proceeded with.

Harold, though he well knew the dangers attending the step, accepted the
crown. Few could have rejected the tempting offer. He was moreover a
brave man, and thoroughly imbued with Saxon feeling. He was willing to
peril his life for the national peculiarities of his country. He was
accordingly straightway anointed, and the Tapestry next exhibits him
seated upon his throne, manifesting all the pomp and dignity of a king.
The throne is considerably elevated above the floor of the apartment.
The sceptre is in one hand, the ball in the other. His officers present
him with the sword of justice. On his left hand stands Stigand, in his
archiepiscopal robes. The superscription calls him Stigant, which seems
further to show that the artist was not an Englishman. Wace the
chronicler, who was a Norman, usually calls Harold, Heraut. The
inscription gives Stigand his title of Archbishop--ARCHIEPS, a
contraction for ARCHIEPISCOPUS. At a period later than that in which we
have supposed the Tapestry to have been prepared, he would not have been
so denominated. For a variety of reasons Stigand was distasteful to the
authorities of Rome. For some years prior to the Conquest, the payment
of Peter’s pence had been discontinued, and Stigand, in common with all
Englishmen, was looked upon coldly. Stigand, moreover, had succeeded the
Norman archbishop, Robert de Jumieges, who had been expelled the country
in the rising under Godwin. The Normans were at this time better
churchmen than the English. Stigand further, in common with the majority
of the Saxon clergy, was an advocate of “the older doctrine of the
eucharist;” Lanfranc, who superseded him, was, in common with the
authorities at Rome, an ardent maintainer of the doctrine of
transubstantiation. Under all these circumstances, Stigand, on being
made archbishop of Canterbury by the Confessor, was not very sanguine of
having the appointment confirmed by the Pope, and instead of making an
immediate application to Rome, quietly took possession of the _pallium_,
which his predecessor in his haste had left behind him. At length he did
apply, and Benedict X., for reasons arising out of his own peculiar
position, granted him the _pallium_. This, however, only made matters
worse. Benedict X. was speedily dethroned by an army from beyond the
mountains, and a new pope elected, who excommunicated his predecessor
and annulled all his acts. Stigand, therefore, found himself once more
without the _pallium_, accused of usurpation, and charged with a new
and much more serious crime, that of having solicited the favour and
countenance of a false and excommunicated pope. If the Tapestry had been
constructed after Lanfranc had planted his foot upon the necks of the
English clergy, Stigand would not have been denominated archbishop. When
William of Malmesbury has occasion to name him, he calls him “the
pretended and false archbishop.”