CHAPTER IX.

THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY.--PART II.

"But bloody, bloody was the field, Ere that lang day was done."

Hardyknute.

"King William bithought him alsoe of that Folke that was forlorne, And slayn also thoruz him In the bataile biforne. And ther as the bataile was, An abbey he lite rere Of Seint Martin, for the soules That there slayn were. And the monkes well ynoug Feffed without fayle, That is called in Englonde Abbey of Bataile."

Immediately after the solemn ceremony described in the foregoing chapter, Harold is depicted as returning to England and presenting himself before the king, Edward the Confessor. "But the day came that no man can escape, and King Edward drew near to die." His deathbed and his funeral procession are both wrought in the tapestry, but by some accident have been transposed. His remains are borne in splendid procession to the magnificent house which he had builded (_i.e._ rebuilded), Westminster Abbey; over which, in the sky, a hand is seen to point as if in benediction. It is well known that the Abbey was barely finished at the time of the pious monarch's death, and this circumstance is intimated in an intelligible though homely manner in the tapestry by a person occupied in placing a weathercock on the summit of the building.

The first pageant seen within its walls was the funeral array of the monarch who so beautifully rebuilt and so amply endowed it. Before the high altar, in a splendid shrine, where gems and jewelry flashed back the gleams of innumerable torches, and amid the solemn chant of the monks, whose "Miserere" echoed through the vaulted aisles, interrupted but by the subdued wail of the mourners, or the emphatic benediction of the poor whose friend he had been, were laid the remains of him who was called the Sainted Edward; whose tomb was considered so hallowed a spot that the very stones around it were worn down by the knees of the pilgrims who resorted thither for prayer; and the very dust of whose shrine was carefully swept and collected, exported to the continent, and bought by devotees at a high price.

We next see in the tapestry the crown _offered_ to Harold (a circumstance to be peculiarly remarked, since thus depicted by his opponent's wife), and then Harold shows right royally receiving the homage and gratulations of those around.

But the next scene forbodes a change of fortune: "ISTI MIRANT STELLA," is the explanation wrought over it. For there appeared "a blasing starre, which was seene not onelie here in England, but also in other parts of the world, and continued the space of seven daies. This blasing starre might be a prediction of mischeefe imminent and hanging over Harold's head; for they never appeare but as prognosticats of afterclaps."

Popular belief has generally invested these ill-omened bodies with peculiar terrors. "These blasing starres--dreadful to be seene, with bloudie haires, and all over rough and shagged at the top." They vary, however, in their appearance. Sometimes they are pale, and glitter like a sword, without any rays or beams. Such was the one which is said to have hung over Jerusalem for near a year before its destruction, filling the minds of all who beheld it with awe and superstitious dread. A comet resembling a horn appeared when the "whole manhood of Greece fought the battaile of Salamis." Comets foretold the war between Cæsar and Pompey, the murder of Claudius, and the tyranny of Nero. Though _usually_, they were not _invariably_, considered as portents of evil omen: for the birth and accession of Alexander, of Mithridates, the birth of Charles Martel, and the accession of Charlemagne, and the commencement of the Tátár empire, were all notified by blazing stars. A very brilliant one which appeared for seven consecutive nights soon after the death of Julius Cæsar was supposed to be conveying the soul of the murdered dictator to Olympus. An author who wrote on one which appeared in the reign of Elizabeth was most anxious, as in duty bound, to apply the phenomenon to the queen. But here was the puzzle. "To have foretold calamities might have been misprision of treason; and the only precedent for saying anything good of a comet was to be drawn from that which occurred after the death of Julius Cæsar;" but it so happened that at this time Elizabeth was by no means either ripe or willing for her apotheosis.[38]

Comets, one author writes, "were made to the end the etherial regions might not be more void of monsters than the ocean is of whales and other great thieving fishes, and that a gross fatness being gathered together as excrements into an imposthume, the celestial air might thereby be purged, lest the sun should be obscured." Another says, they "signifie corruption of the ayre. They are signes of earthquake, of warres, chaunging of kyngdomes, great dearth of corne, yea, a common death of man and beast." So a poet of the same age:--

"There with long bloody hair a blazing star Threatens the world with famine, plague, and war; To princes death, to kingdoms many crosses, To all estates inevitable losses; To herdsmen rot, to plowmen hapless seasons, To sailors storms, to cities civil treasons."

But a writer on comets in 1665 crowned all previous conjecture. "As if God and Nature intended by comets to ring the knells of princes; esteeming the bells of churches upon earth not sacred enough for such illustrious and eminent performances."

No wonder that the comet in Harold's days was regarded with fearful misgivings.

It did not, however, dismay him. Duke William, as may be supposed, did not tamely submit to a usurpation of what he considered, or affected to consider, his own dominions--a circumstance which we see an envoy, probably from his party in England, makes him acquainted with. He holds a council, seemingly an earnest and animated one, which evidently results in the immediate preparation of a fleet; of which the tapestry delineates the various stages and circumstances, from the felling of the timber in its native woods to the launching of the vessels, stored and fully equipped in arms, provisions, and heroes for invasion and conquest.

William in this expedition received unusual assistance from his own tributary chiefs, and from various other allies, who joined his standard, and without whom, indeed, he could not, with any chance of success, have made his daring attempt. A summer and autumn were spent in fitting-up the fleet and collecting the forces, "and there was no knight in the land, no good serjeant, archer, nor peasant of stout heart, and of age for battle, that the duke did not summon to go with him to England; promising rents to the vavassors, and honours to the barons." Thus was an armament prepared of seven hundred ships, but the one which bore William, the hero of the expedition, shone proudly pre-eminent over the rest. It was the gift of his affectionate queen. It is represented in the canvas of larger size than the others: the mast, surmounted by a cross, bears the banner which was sent to William by the Pope as a testimony of his blessing and approbation. On this mast also a beacon-light nightly blazed as a _point d'approche_ of the remainder of the fleet. On the poop was the figure of a boy (supposed to be meant for the conqueror's youngest son), gilded, and looking earnestly towards England, holding in one hand a banner, in the other an ivory horn, on which he is sounding a joyful reveillee.

But long the fleet waited at St. Valeri for a fair wind, until the barons became weary and dispirited. Then they prayed the convent to bring out the shrine of St. Valeri and set it on a carpet in the plain; and all came praying the holy relics that they might be allowed to pass over sea. They offered so much money, that the relics were buried beneath it; and from that day forth they had good weather and a fair wind. "Than Willyam thanked God and Saynt Valary, and toke shortly after shyppynge, and helde his course towarde Englande."

On the arrival of the fleet in England a banquet is prepared. The shape of the table at which William sits has been the theme of some curious remarks by Father Montfaucon, which have been copied by Ducarel and others. It is in form of a half-moon, and was called by the Romans _sigma_, from the Greek +s+. It was calculated only for seven persons; and a facetious emperor once invited eight, on purpose to raise a laugh against the person for whom there would be no place.

"A knight in that country (Britain) heard the noise and cry made by the peasants and villains when they saw the great fleet arrive. He well knew that the Normans were come, and that their object was to seize the land. He posted himself behind a hill, so that they should not see him, and tarried there watching the arrival of the great fleet. He saw the archers come forward from the ships, and the knights follow. He saw the carpenters with their axes, and the host of people and troops. He saw the men throw the materials for the fort out of the ships. He saw them build up and enclose the fort, and dig the fosse around it. He saw them land the shields and armour. And as he beheld all this his spirit was troubled; and he girt his sword and took his lance, saying he would go straightway to King Harold and tell the news. Forthwith he set out on his way, resting late and rising early; and thus he journeyed on by night and by day to seek Harold his lord." And we see him in the tapestry speeding to his beloved master.

Meanwhile Harold is not idle. But the fleet which, in expectation of his adversary's earlier arrival, he had stationed on the southern coast, had lately dispersed from want of provisions, and the King, occupied by the Norwegian invasion, had not been able to reinstate it; and "William came against him (says the Saxon chronicle) unawares ere his army was collected." Thus the enemy found nor opposition nor hinderance in obtaining a footing in the island.

Taken at such disadvantage, Harold did all that a brave man could do to repel his formidable adversary. The tapestry depicts, as well as may be expected, the battle.

"The priests had watched all night, and besought and called upon God, and prayed to him in their chapels, which were fitted up throughout the host. They offered and vowed fasts, penances, and orisons; they said psalms and misereres, litanies and kyriels; they cried on God, and for his mercy, and said paternosters and masses; some the SPIRITUS DOMINI, others SALUS POPULI, and many SALVE SANCTE PARENS, being suited to the season, as belonging to that day, which was Saturday.

"AND NOW, BEHOLD! THAT BATTLE WAS GATHERED WHEREOF THE FAME IS YET MIGHTY.

"Then Taillefer, who sang right well, rode, mounted on a swift horse, before the duke.

"Loud and far resounded the bray of the horns, and the shocks of the lances, the mighty strokes of clubs, and the quick clashing of swords. One while the Englishmen rushed on, another while they fell back; one while the men from over sea charged onwards, and again at other times retreated. When the English fall, the Normans shout. Each side taunts and defies the other, yet neither knoweth what the other saith; and the Normans say the English bark, because they understand not their speech.

"Some wax strong, others weak; the brave exult, but the cowards tremble, as men who are sore dismayed. The Normans press on the assault, and the English defend their post well; they pierce the hauberks and cleave the shields; receive and return mighty blows. Again some press forwards, others yield, and thus in various ways the struggle proceeds."

The death of Harold's two brothers is depicted, and, finally, his own. It is said that his mother offered the weight of the body in gold to have the melancholy satisfaction of interring it, and that the Conqueror refused the boon. But other writers affirm, and apparently with truth, that William immediately transmitted the body, unransomed, to the bereaved parent, who had it interred in the monastery of Waltham.

With the death of Harold the tapestry now ends, though some writers think it probable that it once extended as far as the coronation of William. There can be little doubt of its having been intended to extend so far, though it is impossible now to ascertain whether the Queen was ever enabled quite to complete her Herculean task. Enough there is, however, to stamp it as one of the "most noble and interesting relics of antiquity;" and, as Dibdin calls it, "an exceedingly curious document of the conjugal attachment, and even enthusiastic veneration of Matilda, and a political record of more weight than may at first sight appear to belong to it." Taking it altogether, he adds, "none but itself could be its parallel."

Almost all historians describe the Normans as advancing to the onset "singing the song of Roland," that is, a detail of the achievements of the slaughtered hero of Roncesvalles, which is well known to have been, for ages after the event to which it refers, a note of magical inspiration to deeds of "derring do". On this occasion it is recorded that the spirit note was sung by the minstrel Taillefer, who was, however, little contented to lead his countrymen by voice alone. It is not possible that our readers can be otherwise than pleased with the following animated account of his deeds:[39]--

THE ONSET OF TAILLEFER

"Foremost in the bands of France, Arm'd with hauberk and with lance, And helmet glittering in the air, As if a warrior-knight he were, Rushed forth the minstrel Taillefer-- Borne on his courser swift and strong, He gaily bounded o'er the plain, And raised the heart-inspiring song (Loud echoed by the warlike throng) Of Roland and of Charlemagne, Of Oliver, brave peer of old, Untaught to fly, unknown to yield, And many a knight and vassal bold, Whose hallowed blood, in crimson flood, Dyed Roncesvalles' field.

"Harold's host he soon descried, Clustering on the hill's steep side: Then turned him back brave Taillefer, And thus to William urged his prayer: 'Great Sire, it fits me not to tell How long I've served you, or how well; Yet if reward my lays may claim, Grant now the boon I dare to name; Minstrel no more, be mine the blow That first shall strike yon perjured foe.' 'Thy suit is gained,' the Duke replied, 'Our gallant minstrel be our guide.' 'Enough,' he cried, 'with joy I speed, Foremost to vanquish or to bleed.'

"And still of Roland's deeds he sung, While Norman shouts responsive rung, As high in air his lance he flung, With well directed might; Back came the lance into his hand, Like urchin's ball, or juggler's wand, And twice again, at his command, Whirled its unerring flight.-- While doubting whether skill or charm Had thus inspired the minstrel's arm, The Saxons saw the wondrous dart Fixed in their standard bearer's heart.

"Now thrice aloft his sword he threw, 'Midst sparkling sunbeams dancing, And downward thrice the weapon flew, Like meteor o'er the evening dew, From summer sky swift glancing: And while amazement gasped for breath, Another Saxon groaned in death.

"More wonders yet!--on signal made, With mane erect, and eye-balls flashing, The well taught courser rears his head, His teeth in ravenous fury gnashing; He snorts--he foams--and upward springs-- Plunging he fastens on the foe, And down his writhing victim flings, Crushed by the wily minstrel's blow. Thus seems it to the hostile band Enchantment all, and fairy land.

"Fain would I leave the rest unsung:-- The Saxon ranks, to madness stung, Headlong rushed with frenzied start, Hurling javelin, mace, and dart; No shelter from the iron shower Sought Taillefer in that sad hour; Yet still he beckoned to the field, 'Frenchman, come on--the Saxons yield-- Strike quick--strike home--in Roland's name-- For William's glory--Harold's shame.' Then pierced with wounds, stretched side by side, The minstrel and his courser died."

We have dwelt on the details of the tapestry with a prolixity which some may deem tedious. Yet surely the subject is worthy of it; for, in the first place, it is the oldest piece of needlework in the world--the only piece of that era now existing; and this circumstance in itself suggests many interesting ideas, on which, did our space permit, we could readily dilate. Ages have rolled away; and the fair hands that wrought this work have mouldered away into dust; and the gentle and affectionate spirit that suggested this elaborate memorial has long since passed from the scene which it adorned and dignified. In no long period after the battle thus commemorated, an abbey, consecrated to praise and prayer, raised its stately walls on the very field that was ploughed with the strife and watered with the blood of fierce and evil men. The air that erst rang with the sounds of wrath, of strife, of warfare, the clangour of armour, the din of war, was now made musical with the chorus of praise, or was gently stirred by the breath of prayer or the sigh of penitence; and where contending hosts were marshalled in proud array, or the phalanx rushed impetuous to the battle, were seen the stoled monks in solemn procession, or the holy brother peacefully wending on his errand of charity.

But the grey and time-honoured walls waxed aged as they beheld generation after generation consigned to dust beneath their shelter. Time and change have done their worst. A few scattered ruins, seen dimly through the mist of years, are all that remain to point to the inquiring wanderer the site of the stupendous struggle of which the results are felt even after the expiration of eight hundred years.

These may be deemed trite reflections: still it is worthy of remark, that many of the turbulent spirits who then made earth echo with their fame would have been literally and altogether as though they never had been--for historians make little or no mention of them--were it not for the lasting monument raised to them in this tapestry by woman's industry and skill.

Matilda the Queen's character is pictured in high terms by both English and Norman historians. "So very stern was her husband, and hot, that no man durst do anything against his will. He had earls in his custody who acted against his will. Bishops he hurled from their bishoprics, and abbots from their abbacies, and thanes into prison;" yet it is recorded that even his iron temper was not proof against the good sense, the gentleness, the piety, and the affection of a wife who never offended him but once; and on this occasion there was so much to palliate and excuse her fault, proceeding as it did from a mother's yearnings towards her eldest son when he was in disgrace and sorrow, that the usually unyielding King forgave her immediately. She lived beloved, and she died lamented; and, from the time of her death, the King, says William of Malmsbury, "refrained from every gratification."

Independently of the value of this tapestry as an historical authority, and its interest as being projected, and in part executed, by a lady as excellent in character as she was noble in rank, and its high estimation as the oldest piece of needlework extant--independently of all these circumstances, it is impossible to study this memorial closely, "rude and skilless" as it at first appears, without becoming deeply interested in the task. The outline engravings of it in the "Tapisseries Anciennes Historiées" are beautifully executed, but are inferior in interest to Mr. Stothart's (published by the Society of Antiquarians), because these have the advantage of being coloured accurately from the original. In the study of these plates alone, days and weeks glided away, nor left us weary of our task.

FOOTNOTES:

[38] The Comet of 1618 carried dismay and horror in its course. Not only mighty monarchs, but the humblest private individuals seem to have considered the sign as sent to them, and to have set a double guard on all their actions. Thus Sir Symonds D'Ewes, the learned antiquary, having been in danger of an untimely end by entangling himself among some bell-ropes, makes a memorandum in his private diary never more to exercise himself in bell-ringing when there is a comet in the sky.--Aikin.

[39] By Thomas Amyot, Esq., F.S.A.--Archæol., vol. xix