The Bayeux Tapestry

Every Englishman knows which year the Normans invaded. But I'm sure far fewer know the actual date. After all, we're talking about an event that happened nearly 1000 years ago, so what's a day here or there? 

The Battle of Hastings, 14 October 1066

Thanks to Wikipedia, I now know the fateful day fell on September 28 - two days (and 946 years) before my birthday. The place Duke William landed - Pevensey, not Hastings as many people imagine - is not far from where I was born and grew up. Very handy for school trips!

The pesky Normans arrive at Pevensey, 28 September 1066

Even though it happened nearly 1000 years ago, 1066 is indelibly etched on our national consciousness. I suspect a lot of it stems from a lingering resentment about those pesky Frenchies getting one over us. Even though the Normans were as much Viking as French and nearly all of us will have a Norman ancestor or three lurking somewhere down the family tree. I suspect the disconcerting ginger patch in my beard is the ghost of some distant Norman antecedent. And I'm pretty sure our family nose is. I'd like to think it was a nobleman, but no doubt it was just a grubby soldier getting his end away with some poor Anglo-Saxon wench.

The thing I find most remarkable about the Norman Conquest (and its fascinating lead-up) is the way it was all captured in glorious, panoramic technicolor on the Bayeux Tapestry. It's an extraordinary artifact - a hand-stitched account of the key events in the lead up to Duke William's invasion that's nearly 70 metres long and in almost pristine condition. 

Edward the Confessor send Harold, Earl of Wessex, to Normandy

The Tapestry's tale begins in 1064 with the aging English king Edward sending the Earl of Wessex - Harold Godwinson - to Normandy. Common myth still has it that his mission was to confer the crown of England on the Norman Duke William when Edward died, and swear fealty. But neither the Tapestry nor our knowledge of contemporary kingmaking protocol support this. Either way, the mission didn't go according to plan, and Harold ended up being held hostage by the Normans.

Harold swears an oath to William over a casket of holy relics

Somewhere along the line, Harold ends up swearing allegiance to the Norman Duke William and, importantly, his claim to the English throne when Edward died. Silly boy! Soon after his return to Blighty, Edward died and, as the most powerful nobleman in England, Harry ended up bagging the crown. In all the excitement, he forgot his sacred promise to William. But while Harry was busy measuring the curtains in Winchester, on the other side of the Channel William was choking on his onions.

King Harold is crowned

As every good schoolboy will remember, it is at this point that the Tapestry preempts Harry's foolishness. For no sooner had the crown been placed on the young king's head than an omen of doom shot across the sky. It's Halley's comet, on one of its rare visits to the Earth's atmosphere. And, in those suspicious times, a dreadful portent of things to come. At the bottom right of the panel, a fleet of ghostly ships seem to warn of the impending invasion.

The appearance of Halley's comet soon after
was a bad omen

You see, with his heady combination of Continental excitability and the Viking fondness for berserking, William was a poor choice of person to piss off. Within the year he'd rustled up an army and set sail for Sussex. As we now know from Wikipedia, he landed on a deserted beach at Pevensey on 28 September and made his way to nearby Hastings, where he set about building a castle. Harry, meanwhile, was at he other end of the country fighting another would-be contender for the throne, Harald with an 'a'.

William builds a castle at hastings

On hearing of William's invasion, Harry hightailed it back down south. They met at a field (now the town of Battle) just outside Hastings - William's army fresh and well-positioned, Harry's somewhat disheveled and disadvantaged. The tired Englishmen, fighting on foot, were no match for the mounted Normans. 

The mounted Norman soldiers make mincemeat of the English
at the Battle of Hastings

The second to last panel of the Tapestry is probably the most memorable. I'm sure things are rather different nowadays, but when I was a young whippersnapper, the goriest thing I'd seen by the age of nine (when you generally get on to the Normans) was poor King Harold getting an arrow in the eye. 

The money shot: Good King Harry gets it in the eye

SPOILER ALERT: Rather disappointingly, I just found out today that the arrow was only added in the 18th century (albeit in the place of something far older that may have been a lance). According to Wiki, it was common medieval iconography that a perjurer was to die with a weapon through the eye. So, the tapestry might be said to emphasize William's rightful claim to the throne by depicting Harold as an oath breaker. Whether he actually died in this way remains a mystery and is much debated.

Goblin Market

Christina Rossetti's 1862 poem 'Goblin Market' was one of the first pieces of proper poetry I was exposed to. I must have been about six when I first heard it. It was in a children's magazine called Storyteller and, like many things from that collection, it has stuck with me ever since. You'll immediately see why from reading just the first 30 or so lines:

Morning and evening

Maids heard the goblins cry:

'Come buy our orchard fruits,

Come buy, come buy:

Apples and quinces,

Lemons and oranges,

Plump unpecked cherries,

Melons and raspberries,

Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,

Swart-headed mulberries,

Wild free-born cranberries,

Crab-apples, dewberries,

Pine-apples, blackberries,

Apricots, strawberries;

All ripe together

In summer weather,

Morns that pass by,

Fair eves that fly;

Come buy, come buy:

Our grapes fresh from the vine,

Pomegranates full and fine,

Dates and sharp bullaces,

Rare pears and greengages,

Damsons and bilberries,

Taste them and try:

Currants and gooseberries,

Bright-fire-like barberries,

Figs to fill your mouth,

Citrons from the South,

Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;

Come buy, come buy.

If there's a more sumptuous, evocative opening stanza for a poem, I've yet to hear it.

It's only recently that I've discovered the 30 or so lines published in Storyteller represent just a fraction of the original poem, which runs to an impressive 568 lines! Rossetti wrote the poem for children, so one can only imagine they had longer attention spans back then. 

But Storyteller may well have had another good reason for abridging the work...it's wonderfully dark (an innocent child corrupted and enchanted by a band of devilish goblins)and just a wee bit racy! The imagery,  which is sumptuous throughout, gets decidedly sexual in places. Says one sister to another: 

"Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices"

The story is one of decadence, decline and redemption. A foolhardy acceptance of proffered fruit inviting obvious parallels with the Garden of Eden. It's also a story of unconditional love. The abstemious Lizzie puts her life on the line for her fallen sister.

Carol Rumen discussed the poem recently in the Guardian and, while she acknowledged the eroticism and allegory, she played  this down in favour of a more innocent interpretation. I tend to agree with her - I think the poem is so gorgeously rich and engrossing that to focus too much on either the biblical or bacchanalian aspects of it does it a great disservice.

I'll leave you with one of her more vivid descriptions of the goblins, preparing to ensnare the second sister with their enchanted fruits:

Laughed every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes

The complete works of Christina Rossettti are available for free download through the fantastic Project Gutenburg.

Illustration for Christina Rossetti's Goblin Market (1862). Dante Gabriel Rossetti. University of South Carolina. http://www.sc.edu/library/spcoll/kidlit/kidlit/kidlit3.html