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;

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—

—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,

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

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.