The Bayeux Tapestry: an Epic Poem in Linen

                    by Peg Wheeler

 

This ancient telling tapestry from the feudal Bayeux Baptistry;

Image in textile, yes; true tapestry, high-warped, no.

But embroidery: -  -   coarser, subtler, simpler

–        skillfully rendered

 

Couched and laid-in wool, worked on creamy linen ground.

Eight long strips laid end to end; panels, seventy-nine.

Two-hundred thirty feet of Anglo/Norman style; Romanesque design

A masterwork, concisely stated;

                                                Cherished, protected, venerated.

 

This monumental undertaking, commissioned by Bishop Odo.

To preserve the storied William’s conquest,

                                                William, his brother older.

At the English seaport town of Hastings: 1066 ---; 14 October.

 

The Bishop wishes it to hang frieze-like in his palace hall.

Cries the craftsman:  “How can I possibly design this all?”

 

“It need must say so very much . . .

But then, I’m skilled;

                             Do it I will,  .  .  . and well

 

What have I to work with - - what must I show?

 

The players of this drama and their roles:

 

There’s William foremost, William of Normandy

          William the Bastard - - son of a tanner’s daughter.

          Bred to arms from childhood’s cradle;

          Cunning, vigilant, ruthless and formidable;

                                                William the Conqueror

 

And late there was Edward the childless; Edward the Confessor.

Half-Norman by birth but sans successor.

Good King Edward; full-Norman by upbringing

Bequeathed to Norman William, his lands in all England.     

 

          There’s Harold.  Harold Goodwinson of Wessex

          Harold the Usurper; pretending at the throne.

          His claim to royal blood was thin.

But his right to English rule, was tolerated then.

 

 

But history is more than a parade of characters;

It is one moment in time, marching on to the next

I want my drama to capture each moment, mid-march, mid-time.

 

I’ll portray Harold, traitor that he is, with respect.

I’ll show both sides as noble, heroic, honorable.

In the tradition of an old English poem,

A textile “Chanson de Geste” an epic on linen!

 

Horses!  I’ll do horses!  I love horses!

Magnificent horses! Careful attention to detail’

(de harness and de saddle too).  Decorated genitalia.

Contorted, tumbling battle scenes.  Lots of horses!

 

Feastings and coronations – Battles and bloodshed!

Heroic military figures, (Odo wants military figures).

The invasion by sea; many glorious square-rigged ships.

With wind-blown sails of Viking and Norse design.

 

I precede myself - - I first must find workers.

The best Embroidery workshops are in Canterbury.

Would Odo much mind if I hired foreigners .  .  .?

I’d supervise throughout - - for consistency of style.

 

And so it came to pass that this major work was done

Done in finely needled detail with understated irony.

Thought-wrought honor and immortal design.

One moment marching on – in noble storyline.

 

Woolen threads of warm, worn earth-tone hues

A burnished gold - - ‘most olive.

          A silver green - - ‘most gray.

                   A deep indigo; a sage-green blue.

                             And a warm rusty terra-cotta red.

A tribute all to the dye maker’s mordant skill

 

A tribute too to the patience and care of the stitch-takers

Keen of eye and finger with enduring devotion to craft and cloth.

 

But most of all, a tribute to the masterful designer

The world sees now, your love of story

Your passion, your purpose, your pleasure.

                                                                   Well done!  Well done!

 

Well done, your horses!

          Magnificent flanks and facial expressions.

Well done, your trees!

          Punctuating, stylized celtic-tangled filigrees.

Well done, your ships!

          The hulls and decks from bows to sterns.

Well done, your soldiers!

          Shielded chain mailed feudal forces.

 

But, tell us of your borders.  Sub-plots? Foreshadowings . . .?

Tendrelled foliate interlacings, mythological centaurs,

Phallic little men? Camels, birds and winged dragons?

Fabled Aesopean creatures, and a comet-star, ill-omened?

 

And so you have come down to us.

Much was lost, ‘tis true, but more remains.

You can’t have known the trials endured.

You can’t have known the pains.

 

The times we patched - - and patched the patches.

Tattererd, thread-bare warp and weft.

Frayed and shredded selvedge edges

Sometimes crumbling - - nothing left.

 

We don’t know when it was we lost the finis

Panels of William enthroned and victorious,

Some think they were stolen; some think merely worn.

But whatever the reason, they’re lost and they’re gone.

 

Nine-hundred years of wars were witnessed

-         and outlasted.

Very nearly a wagon cover in the Reign of Terror.

          Saved from revolutionaries by a loyal, local lawyer.

Napoleon exploited you for propaganda munition

          To argue his own version of a Normandy invasion.

Even Nazi art historians have studied you

          Between your story lines, examined you.

 

Now you rest, at last protected;

          Under glass and dimly lit.

For all to come to see your story;

          Clearer history was never writ.

 

This master’s work, concisely stated;

                             Cherished, protected, venerated.

Poetry in wool and linen lines.

                             This ancient telling tapestry from the feudal Bayeux Baptistry.

                                               

                                                          .  .  .  .  well done!

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