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1066: The Hidden History in the Bayeux Tapestry

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For a single day's battle, it is hard to think of any that is greater in consequence than the Battle of Hastings in October 1066. If it had gone the other way, and it was a very near thing, we would, for instance, be using a different language now, the descent of royalty in England would have been decidedly altered, and English and European (and therefore world) history would be unrecognizable from where we are now. The classical depiction of the battle is on a long piece of linen, and the cloth's story is told in _1066: The Hidden History in the Bayeux Tapestry_ (Walker Books) by Andrew Bridgeford. Everyone who has looked at this extraordinary work of art has tried to see one scene after another, as if it were some epic graphic novel, to tell the story of the invasion. If you don't know much about the history that has been taught from the tapestry, Bridgeford makes this a fascinating introduction, examining each scene and coordinating it with the written histories of the time. He is not, however, a professional historian, but a lawyer, and he has a case to argue. The tapestry has been interpreted the wrong way, he explains, and he means to set the matter straight. There is a good deal of guesswork and supposition in his explanation, but it is generally well-argued, and will make little difference to those who come to the tapestry without having been drilled in the old interpretations. Bridgeford does bring the tapestry to life, with its depictions of valor and brutality, and anyone reading his work is going to want to get to France someday to see the real thing.

The tapestry is not a tapestry at all, really, but an embroidery; the pattern is not in the weave of the fabric, but stitched into the linen. The illustrations consist of hundreds of human figures, plus horses, falcons, and dogs, set within forests, churches, castles, and ships. It is about 75 yards long and one yard wide, and was sewn almost a millennium ago. The battle depicted in the tapestry was brought about by the death of Edward the Confessor in December 1065, an event depicted about a third of the way along the tapestry. William of Normandy expected to be made king, but Harold Godwinson was given the nod by the dying Edward. William set forth to get the throne he thought was his, and of course when Harold fell in the Battle of Hastings, he succeeded. The view of the tapestry ever since has been that because the Normans won, and because victors get to write the histories, the tapestry is "a work of Norman triumphalism," made by Normans who wished to celebrate their just conquest. Bridgeford has taken scholarly works of the latter twentieth century to demonstrate that the tapestry necessarily tells of the Norman victory, but it gives an English version of events. For instance, the tapestry never refers to William's claim to the throne, showing Harold's nomination as lawful; Harold is not the usurper whose actions would have justified invasion. Harold is referred to as King Harold when he is depicted, but he was almost always in other Norman documents referred to by his former title Duke.

There is an enormous amount of evidence for this new hypothesis, attractively arranged and argued with legal skill. Part of the problem is that the tapestry is from so long ago, there are no written documents from its own time that refer to its story or how it was made, and there is an enormous amount of confusing and strange inclusions on the cloth. It thus has many panels that can be interpreted in various ways. Bridgeford knows this, and wisely includes many times a phrase like, "One further piece of intriguing evidence should be mentioned, though its import is unclear." The case, full of suppositions about spears that point to particular letters and animals on the cloth's border that illustrate a fable from Aesop that might apply in some way to the goings-on in the main pictures, is an interesting one, but for most people, the new ideas Bridgeford presents will be secondary. His book primarily serves as an excellent introduction to the tapestry and how mysterious it is, with many large voids of information about and within it. He also has drawn from other sources to describe a strange and turbulent time, and his descriptions of side issues, like the process of becoming a knight, are useful to the main story. The book is illustrated with small pictures to show the whole cloth, and enlargements of the panels to which Bridgeford pays particular attention. As an appreciation of a spectacular work of art, the book is fine guide, particularly in its explanation of symbolism that appealed to the medieval mind.

As Bridgeford carefully explains, of course, the Bayeux Tapestry is really not a tapestry, but instead an embroidery, created something more than 900 years ago to tell the story of, and the story behind, the Battle of Hastings, in which Willaim the Bastard became William the Conqueror of England. Although the Tapestry is certainly famous, its origins and even the meanings of certain of its embroidered scenes are mysterious. In this book Bridgeford provides persuasive, if not necessarily final, answers to many of the old questions, including who was the patron who had the Tapestry created (Bridgeford believes it was Count Eustache of Boulogne, as a sort of peace offering to Bishop Odo, William's half-brother, who might have been just a little unhappy after Eustache had attacked the bishop's castle at Dover), who was Aelfgyva and what was she doing with that cleric (Aelfgyva was a rather popular name at the time, but Bridgeford argues that the Tapestry's Aelfgyva was the mother of Norway's Harold Harefoot, a rival contender for the English throne, and it was a reference to an old scandal, made to undermine the legitimacy of Harold's claim), and who the dwarf Turold was (Bridgeford speculates that the horse-holding Turold may have been the artist-designer of the Tapestry and the author of the famous Chanson de Roland). This is a book worth reading about one of the great art treasures of Europe and about one of the critical turning points of European history.

When I was living in Europe as an army brat in the late 1950s -- a period that cemented a deep interest in history, which became a career -- I had the opportunity to spend an entire day studying the 300-foot-long embroidered panels (miscalled a "tapestry") that is almost our only near-contemporary source documenting the Norman conquest of Anglo-Saxon England. I've been fascinated by it ever since, I read everything published about it, and about the Conquest, and this is one of the best studies I've ever seen. The author is an English attorney, not an academic historian, which means this is not a scholarly publication, but it's nevertheless a very well written, thoroughly judicious, extremely well-informed treatment of a well-trodden subject. He begins at the beginning, with the first scene depicted on the tapestry: King Edward on his throne, followed by Duke Harold (he was actually an earldorman, but this is a French work, after all) and the beginning of his visit to the Continent that would lead to the battle at Hastings. Bridgeford summarizes all the past interpretations of depicted events and weighs each in the light of later discoveries, notes the effect of 19th century repairs to the needlework which "rewrote" some of the tapestry's scenes, and discusses the accuracy (or not) of the later ballads and poems. He also makes an excellent case for the tapestry being in part a piece of pro-French (not pro-Norman) propaganda. Two extensive sets of color plates -- of the tapestry as a continuum and as a series of key scenes -- make the text very easy to follow. Highly recommended for anyone with an interest in the Conquest.

I found this to be a very interesting and worthwhile book. To briefly summarize, the author examines the famous Bayeux Tapestry, traditionally thought to be a work celebrating the Norman conquest of England in 1066, and comes up with a very interesting theory concerning its origins and meanings. I won't spoil the work for you by revealing what the author's theories are, but he does make (for the most part) an interesting case for them.

Although the author does describe the history of the tapestry itself, which is fascinating (an odd bit of ironic trivia: the Bayeux Tapestry nearly was destroyed on more than one occasion and suffered its greatest threat from the French themselves, during their revolution. The occupying Germans, during WWII, seemed to treat it with the most respect), the bulk of the book is taken up with scene by scene retelling of the Norman Invasion, using the art of the tapestry as a text. I found this section very enjoyable. It was rather like a favorite uncle going through a photo album and embellishing the pictures with fantastic stories. It was fascinating to see how much the author was able to read into the artwork of the tapestry, filling the woolen characters with action and personality. Bridgeford really was able to make the times, and the tapestry, come alive with action and life.

Are his theories true? I have no idea, and as the author himself admits, there will never be a way to know for sure about any of it. I can tell you this, though; he makes his case with vigor and it will really make you think about a time and people nearly a thousand years passed.

That's what good history writing is supposed to do.

A true delight in print, Andrew Bridgeford's "1066: The Hidden History in the Bayeux Tapestry" reads more like a well-written mystery book than a history text. Many a past author has tried to make history "interesting" with unusual and sometimes ludicrous literary devices, but this book doesn't stoop to such silliness. Instead, the history we read here is indeed real history, but woven with a most intriguing claim, transforming the story of the Bayeux Tapestry into a page-turner of scholarship from start to finish.

The main contention of the work, which I will present here without spoiling the details and supporting evidence for the reader, is that the prevailing view concerning the Tapestry, commonly reckoned a work of Norman propaganda supporting William the Conqueror's claim to the English throne, is incorrect. Rather, Bridgeford argues, the Tapestry is actually a truly English (not Norman) work which gives more credit to a Frenchman (not a Norman) for the 1066 battle victory, and was created to serve as continual reminder that William's taking of the English throne may have been successful, but was not morally just. In this sense, the Tapestry can, in a way, be considered a "subversive" work, because its message of the invalidity of William's ascent was played out in full view under the noses of all the Norman entourage, and indeed, full public scrutiny, without detection. The makers of the Tapestry could only do this by creating a work that passes the "scratch and sniff" test for supporting the Norman cause, but only for those wishing to read that preconceived notion into what they see in the work, and for creating a series of images that, on its superficial elements, appears to do just that. But woven into the threads of this work is a contrary view that becomes apparent if one rejects the temptation to skim over and "read into" each of the Tapestry's scenes, and it is a message quite different that it might at first appear to be.

Bridgeford's prose is consistently up to this challenging task. Each page of the text further illuminates our understanding, not only of what we already know about 1066, but of those things we "know" that really may not "fit" into the Tapestry's message, if we but took the time to further reflect on it. After carefully considering each of the pieces of evidence presented, we come to feel there is good reason to support the author's claims. In fact, the book at times lays out its evidence and persuasion much like a lawyer might do in court, and if we find ourselves in this jury of opinion, we tend to find ourselves convinced. And although the reader here might think the author will have to resort to fantastic claims and that we'll have to check credulity at the front cover, we quickly find we can rest easy. The author's case is logical, cogent, and reasonable; the work never veers outside of accepted scholarship for evidence, and rejects many surrounding claims even if some of those might further buttress the argument. This is a solid book that is a fascinating addition to the library of works surrounding the Tapestry.

Bridgeford's text begins by laying out what must be considered an epic drama of the history of the Tapestry itself, a history which begins in the 11th century but, much like an Indiana Jones movie, finds itself the target of Nazi's, governments, and various nefarious forces throughout the centuries. Once we have followed the Tapestry's journey throughout the years, we settle into an examination of the tapestry itself, a scene by scene look at each element with the work. Thankfully, the entire Tapestry is photographically reproduced in full color with additional scene numbers and annotated text to translate the Latin so that we can refer to the Tapestry itself while the author makes his points and explanations. Historical background is provided within the narrative whenever necessary, helping us understand the possible motivations for the prime characters and serving as a historical backdrop to the story. Bridgeford makes his case scene by scene, and is not unconvincing. It is a true adventure to pry open the explanations of each of the scenes, and regardless of how convinced the reader may be of the ultimate assertions of the book, the result is likely to be a newfound interest in the Tapestry itself, and perhaps even a desire to make a trip to see the Tapestry in person.

But much of the charm of this book remains in the prose which relates Harold's and William's story, with characters whose motives and intentions come alive, settings that jump out of the past, and the ebb and flow of history once again surging past us when we thought it was already finished. And that is indeed, according to the author, the whole purpose of those enigmatic creators of the Bayeux Tapestry: to serve as a constant witness of historical fact that would hopefully guide those of future generations who were willing to listen to its message. They may well have succeeded. It's now approaching 1,000 years since the Tapestry was woven, and we are still here examining, debating, and enjoying it.

Many years ago I saw the Bayeux Tapestry while on holidays in Europe. My lasting impression of the work is the sheer size of it. It was much larger than I would have believed based on the odd picture seen in a book I'd come across before leaving home. I now wish I'd been able to read a book like this one before I'd viewed the Tapestry (or embroidery actually).

This book takes you scene by scene through this massive work of art - and a different picture slowly emerges than the one you might have read about in other books on the subject. This embroidery is the work of a conquered people - and to please their new masters it superficially shows their success in the conquest. However, the events, and how the artist chooses to highlight them brings out another story, and its not the same one that the Normans told of their "right" to conquer England. The Tapestry also brings into focus formerly obscure people that never feature in any other period work on the conquest - and the author of this book has done some research into these named individuals and dug up some very interesting information indeed.

If you have any interest in the Bayeux Tapestry or the Norman conquest of England in 1066 this is a book you should read. The author is a Lawyer by trade and not a historian but he has done dome very impressive and detailed research with this book. I didn't know much about either the Tapestry or the Norman conquest before reading this book, so even if you don't know much about this period this is still a good read as the author tracks down the mysteries in the Tapestry that many other writers gloss over.

I have always been fascinated with the Bayeux Tapestry and avidly devour any written material I can get my hands on that pertain to it. This book puts a new spin on the accepted presumption of who sponsored the work on the tapestry and offers speculation as to a subversive counter story hidden within the images. The tapestry is actually a 70 meter long piece of linen (comprised of 8 sections) upon which is embroidered the tale of King Edward the Confessor and Harold Godwinson (Harold II) of England and the invasion of England by William the Conqueror that ended in his victory at the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Although some of the theories posed in this book may or may not be valid, it is well written, provides an excellent birds-eye view of the political situation at the time and engrosses the reader from the very start.

My only complaint is that the images in the book are in black and white and are so small that it is sometimes difficult to make out the details. To solve that problem, I recommend that the reader refer to larger color images of the tapestry when reading the book. I read it simultaneously with my Thames and Hudson edition of The Bayeux Tapestry, With Commentary by David M. Wilson, which has full color plates of the complete tapestry that are so large that you can see the individual stitches.

I would highly recommend this book to anyone remotely interested in English history or in the Bayeux Tapestry.

I would like to rate this as five stars for enjoyability as a reading experience. But I can only give it three stars on content.

Andrew Bridgeford repeatedly puts forward his thesis, which is two-part: that the Bayeux Tapestry "patron" was probably not Odo of Bayeux, but possibly count Eustace II of Boulogne; and that the artist(s) had a secret agenda. This second part of his thesis is more firmed up in the author's mind, and the more important part to him. His final comments on the subject show how much he has bought into his own detective work:

"If the question of patronage is less certain than it has previously been thought, it has become clear that the tapestry's content is far removed from the 'Norman propaganda' of conventional myth. Whoever was the patron and whatever the genesis of the idea, it is clear that the artist was playing a delicious and thoroughly dangerous game. The picture of the Bayeux Tapestry that has emerged in this book is one of an artistic masterpiece of intellectual brilliance, shot through with multiple layers of meaning. The purpose of Harold's voyage, the significance of Ælfgyva, Harold's oath, the meaning of the word 'French' in the battle scenes and the death of Harold are all treated by the artist in a way that deliberately teases the audience with ambiguity. At one level all of these scenes can be read as consistent with the Norman story. Ultimately, however, the artist's underlying meaning is revealed by subtle and persistent pictorial clues. He flattered Bishop Odo, but at the same time stitched ingeniously into the embroidered story are veiled statements of the English point of view and coded clues as to the role of Count Eustace and his men in the downfall of Harold, even an indication that Eustace himself struck the fatal blow that brought the last Anglo-Saxon king to his knees. The tapestry tells us that the Norman claim to the throne was built on a lie. It was the lie that near the end of his reign King Edward sent Harold to Normandy in order to confirm William's status as the next king. In fact, Harold had journeyed to the continent on his own account but foolishly he swore an oath in William's favor in order to extract himself from his prolonged and dangerous stay in Normandy. When Harold...ascended the throne..., God's judgement was not long in falling upon him... Instrumental in the enforcement of God's will were not the Normans but rather Count Eustace II of Boulogne and his Frenchmen... Elsewhere the English viewpoint was being silenced and censored, and the role of non-Norman Frenchmen minimised, but Odo would be taking back to Normandy a work of art that, unbeknownst to him, subtly undermined Norman propaganda in almost every respect. The Bayeux Tapestry emerges from all this not as a Norman work or even a purely English one but as a truly Anglo-French production foreshadowing the age that dawned with the Norman Conquest, but in ways quite unexpected."

The fact that Bridgeford felt it necessary to recap his thesis by rementioning the basics (as if the reader hadn't picked up the arguments, even by the end of the book) indicates that he is still convincing himself.

There are just a few points to make, to show that his thesis of "subversion" of Norman propaganda is a bigger stretch than the standard (almost consensus) explanation of what the tapestry was made for -- both panegyric of the new Norman king, and a propaganda piece to justify the invasion and conquest.

Taking his first point, that the tapestry's content is "far removed" from the Norman propaganda it supposedly lays out: making this claim in the first place is introducing more complexity in order to explain the tapestry than is required. In other words, Bridgeford is chucking Occam's Razor in order to indulge in his own imagination. This is more the province of the historical mystery writer than the pragmatic historian. Throughout his book, he brings in extra "what if's" then explores outside evidence that could be interpreted to support his ideas. But these ideas are always more convoluted than the standard straight-forward explanations that have stood for several generations of extensive, almost exhaustive, scholarship.

The "delicious and thoroughly dangerous game" supposedly played by the artist fails on two points: each of the so-called hidden messages has a straight-forward explanation; and, there would have been no audience for the tapestry's artist to play to! With the tapestry in Normandy, gone is the only potential audience (the English people) that might even "get it". For us to finally "get it" after well over 900 years (because Bridgeford pointed it out to us) is proof that the artist of the tapestry's asserted hidden agenda of subversion of Norman propaganda was a complete failure: it was TOO subtle for any of his contemporaries, even especially his enemies. Even if the tapestry had gone around the kingdom of England on display, nobody, no rustics from the countryside, would have seen anything but a pictorial account of the final days of their last native monarchs and aristocracy.

The reason why the tapestry's obvious story ("at one level all of these scenes can be read as consistent with the Norman story") is the "official" truth, is because there is no other level of story telling going on. The English elements in it -- such as the style of artistic detailing, and calling Harold "King Harold" and the invaders "French" -- are easily explained by the fact that the workers of the threads were in fact Englishmen and Englishwomen working under the instructions of their Franco-Norman masters: all of whom were seen by the English as "French". There is no subtle anti-Norman messaging contained within the scenes of the Bayeux Tapestry, just a straightforward retelling of one version of the story of the end of the English dynasty: a version that was evidently sufficiently accurate to satisfy the requirements of the "French" (Normandy to the English was just a part of the French king's realm), and especially of William the Conqueror himself.

One parting comment on the "Eustace II was the patron" idea: the details that Bridgeford puts forward as evidence of Eustace II's emphasis in the tapestry would not even be picked up by studying the tapestry, if it were not for outside works such as The Carmen de Hastingae Proelio of Guy Bishop of Amiens (Oxford Medieval Texts), where Eustace does play an emphasized role. In the tapestry alone, his blatant mention is exactly once, and even that is only known because of an interpretation of a badly damaged segment that has been restored to read "Eustatius". Aside from the obvious possibility that "Eustatius" was simply a common name back then (and could be an otherwise unknown captain or vassal of duke William's -- we do, after all, have only a handful of actual participants, out of an army of many thousands of lost names), we have nothing within the tapestry itself to indicate that this figure holding a fancy banner is doing anything more than pointing the viewer to William of Normandy, much as he appears to be doing for the benefit of the soldiers of both sides: "Here's the MAN, the conqueror, still alive, and he's here to kick butt!" That's all "Eustatius" is doing in the tapestry. Everything else that Bridgeford says is going on is created out of snippets of outside evidence to build his thesis of Eustace II as the patron. None of that thesis would be visible or make any sense to someone looking at the tapestry in situ. (Parenthetically, it is also possible that "Eustatius" is not even the original name of the figure: for instance, "Turstinus/Turstius" is also possible: the segment was so badly damaged that interpreting the first letter as "E" could have been mistaken.)

In fact, Bridgeford has fallen for the temptation to rewrite history and come up with a new thing to discredit the old. It seems to be the main quest of aspiring historians, who are disappointed that all that can be said on a historical subject has in fact been said. He admits again and again throughout his book that "Clearly... we are at the very limit of what is knowable. Sufficient evidence is simply not available to give anything like a definitive answer to these questions." He raises the questions himself, offers a collection of evidence to support an alternate, more complex, "subtle" theory on what was really going on, then reminds the reader that it's all an imaginative construct; more appropriately found in a historical mystery novel or a clever screen play than in a work of genuine scholarship.

I found Bridgeford's writing style easy on the eyes. He pulled me along very nicely. His love of detailed examination revealed many little rewarding facts throughout. By way of example, one of my favorites was the illustration of how rich Odo of Bayeux was, arriving at an estimation of his English fortune as £43.2 billion in modern terms. He ranks as the fourth-richest non-monarch to have lived in England since 1066 (three out of the top four were followers of William the Conqueror, the other two being Robert, Odo's brother, and William of Warrene). But when you add in his revenues as bishop of Bayeux, Odo is probably, "...as far as evidence permits, to be regarded as the richest non-monarch ever to have lived in England during the whole of the last millennium." The entire book is laced with such delightful observations and facts.

Anyone fascinated with the subject of the Norman Conquest, and history in general, ought to find Bridgeford's book a rewarding experience....

This is a fascinating, well-written book with a huge blindspot: Apparently there were no women behind the Bayeux Tapestry. It has now been well established that the tapestry (or embroidery) was not done by Queen Matilda and her ladies in waiting. Since that apochryphal tale has long been discarded, it has been largely accepted that the tapestry was commissioned by Bishop Odo. Bridgeford carefully and systematically shows why this second hypothesis is also most likely incorrect. However, he then proposes in an extremly convoluted way that the actual patron of the tapestry was Count Eustace of Boulogne. In fact, a much more compelling case is made by Carola Hicks in The Bayeux Tapestry: The Life Story of a Masterpiece that the patron of the tapestry was Queen Edith, the widow of Edward the Confessor. Hicks states, "Edith's ... particular skills and experience, and the shifting loyalties of her own life, can all be paralleled in the making and the ultimate ambiguities of the hanging." In the end I felt cheated by Bridgeford in that he did not use his formidable skills as a researcher to consider this possibility. I would recommend this book because it is so well done, but be forewarned about the glaring absence of women and their history in relation to this enigmatic tapestry.

1066 is definitely recommended for those interested in Anglo-Saxon and Norman history, the history of embroidery, and even just those looking for a fun interpretive history about this famous Tapestry. He covers the tapestry's story and the theories about its origins. But, he also provides a wealth of background story about the major players pictured in the Tapestry or its production. I haven't seen this kind of info in this depth gathered in any other books I've read on this subject. The author's writing style is journalistic, making the book an enjoyable read, and his interpretations of what the Tapestry shows and how that was manipulated by both its patrons and its artisans seems plausible.