“Crowned but to die.”----
_Rogers._
The latter days of Edward the Confessor were embittered by the prospect
of those evils which he saw were coming upon England. On the Easter day
before he died he held his court at Westminster. William of Malmesbury
tells us that “While the rest were greedily eating, and making up for
the long fast of Lent by the newly-provided viands, he was absorbed in
the contemplation of some divine matter, when presently he excited the
attention of the guests by bursting into profuse laughter.” On earnest
enquiry being made of him as to this unusual circumstance, he said “that
the seven sleepers in Mount Cœlius, who had lain for two hundred years
on their right side, had now turned upon their left; that they would
continue to lie in this manner for seventy-four years, which would be a
dreadful omen to wretched mortals. Nation would rise against nation, and
kingdom against kingdom; earthquakes would be in divers places;
pestilence and famine, terrors from heaven, and great signs; changes in
kingdoms; wars of the gentiles against the Christians, and also
victories of the Christians over the pagans.”[59]
This was not the only vision he had. On one occasion he had lain two
days speechless; on the third, sadly and deeply sighing as he awoke from
his torpor, he said, that two monks from Normandy whom he had known in
his youth had appeared to him, and had spoken to the following
effect:--“Since the chiefs of England, the dukes, bishops, and abbots,
are not the ministers of God, but of the devil, God, after your death,
will deliver this kingdom, for a year and a day into the hands of the
enemy, and devils shall wander over all the land.”[60]
Borne down by these painful anticipations, Edward rapidly sank. Feeling
death approach, he hastened the completion of the abbey church of
Westminster, in which he designed that his body should be laid. He lived
to realize this his last care. Roger of Wendover says, “Edward King of
England, held his court at Christmas (1065) at Westminster; and, on the
blessed Innocents’ day, caused the church which he had erected from its
foundations, outside the city of London, to be dedicated with great pomp
in honour of St. Peter, the prince of the apostles; but both before and
during the solemn festival of this dedication, the King was confined
with severe illness.” At length “the pacific King Edward, the glory of
England, the son of King Ethelred, exchanged a temporal for an eternal
kingdom, in the fourth indiction, on the vigil of our Lord’s Epiphany,
being the fifth day of the week. The day after his death the most
blessed King was buried at London, in the church which he himself had
built in a new and costly style of architecture, which was afterwards
adopted by numbers.”[61]
The Tapestry exhibits to us the church of St. Peter at Westminster, and
the funeral procession of the recently departed monarch. The church is a
building of the Norman style in its greatest simplicity. As is usual in
cathedrals and conventual churches of the first class, it has its tower
in the centre, and is provided with transepts. The weathercock may
perhaps excite attention, as proving that this appendage of our churches
is no novelty. It appears in the Saxon illustrations of Cædmon. But what
is particularly worthy of our notice is, that a workman appears to be in
the act of affixing it. By this, the designer of the Tapestry means to
show that the church was but just completed when the interment of the
Confessor took place. A hand appears over the western end of the church
to denote the finger of Providence, and to indicate that it was the will
of God that the remains of the departed King should be deposited in that
building. A similar hand appears on the coins of some of the Roman
emperors, and in several of the sculptures of the catacombs at Rome.
This is another indication that the artist was acquainted with the Roman
method of treating such subjects.
We next meet with the funeral of the King. The circumstance which
chiefly strikes us in it is its simplicity. No gilded cross is borne
before the body. No candles, lighted or unlighted, are carried in
procession. The attendants, clerical and lay, wear their ordinary
dresses. Two youths go by the side of the bier, ringing bells. That the
persons who follow the bearers are ecclesiastics is evident from their
shaven crowns. Two of them have books, from
[Illustration: PLATE VII.]
which they chant some requiem. Only one of them has a mantle, betokening
him to be a person of importance. The body, agreeably to the Saxon
custom, has been wound up in a cloth, fastened with transverse
bandages.[62] It is carried head-foremost. At a date not long subsequent
to the Conquest it was usual to carry the bodies of princes to the grave
fully exposed to view, dressed in all the habiliments of state. The
body, on arriving at the place of sepulture, would be deposited in the
stone coffin that was prepared to receive it.[63] The legend here is,
HIC PORTATUR CORPUS EADWARDI REGIS AD ECCLESIAM SANCTI PETRI
APOSTOLI--Here the body of King Edward is carried to the church of St.
Peter the Apostle.
On proceeding to the next compartment we are surprised at being
introduced into the chamber of the dying King, whose remains we have
already seen conducted to the grave. Some writers think that here the
artist has been guilty of an oversight, or that the fair ladies who
carried out his design have been very inattentive to their instructions.
The seeming inconsistency is very easily explained. A new subject is now
entered upon, and that subject is the right of succession. One
important element in it is the grant of the King. The historian of the
Tapestry, in discussing this very important part of his design, found it
necessary to revert to the scenes which preceded the death of the
Confessor, and to the directions which in his last moments he had given.
The narrative which Wace gives us of the last hours of the King agrees
well with the Tapestry. “The day came that no man can escape, and King
Edward drew near to die. He had it much at heart that William should
have his kingdom, if possible; but he was too far off, and it was too
long to tarry for him, and Edward could not defer his hour. He lay in
heavy sickness, in the illness whereof he was to die; and he was very
weak, for death pressed hard upon him. Then Harold assembled his
kindred, and sent for his friends and other people, and entered into the
King’s chamber, taking with him whomsoever he pleased. An Englishman
began to speak first, as Harold had directed him, and said, ‘Sire, we
sorrow greatly that we are about to lose thee; and we are much alarmed,
and fear that great trouble may come upon us. No heir of thine remains
who may comfort us after thy death.... On this account the people weep
and cry aloud, and say they are ruined, and that they shall never have
peace again, if thou failest them. And in this I trow they say truly;
for without a king they will have no peace, and a king they cannot have,
save through thee.... Behold the best of thy people, the noblest of thy
friends; all are come to beseech thee, and thou must grant their prayer
before thou goest hence, or thou wilt not see God. All come to implore
thee that Harold may be King of this land. We can give thee no better
advice, and no better canst thou do.’ As soon as he had named Harold,
all the English in the chamber cried out that he said well, and that the
King ought to give heed to him. ‘Sire!’ they said, ‘if thou dost it not
we shall never in our lives have peace.’ Then the King sat up in his
bed, and turned his face to the English there, and said, ‘Seigniors! you
well know, and have oft-times heard, that I have given my realm at my
death to the Duke of Normandy; and as I have given it, so have some
among you sworn that it shall go.’ But Harold, who stood by, said,
‘Whatever thou hast heretofore done, sire! consent now that I shall be
King, and that your land be mine. I wish for no other title, and want no
one to do any thing more for me.’ So the King turned round and said,
whether of his own free will I know not,--‘Let the English make either
the Duke or Harold king, as they please; I consent.’ So he let the
barons have their own will.”[64] This narrative bears all the marks of
probability, and is quite consistent with the representations of the
Tapestry. The circumstance of the dying monarch’s having been
clamorously assailed, at a time when peace is most required, by the
adherents of Harold, in order to induce him to alter the arrangements he
had already made respecting the succession, was calculated to win for
the Duke the sympathy of all right-minded persons.
Still, the question remains, why should Harold have been so anxious to
be nominated the successor of the Confessor?
Three circumstances seem to have constituted a legal claim to the throne
among the Anglo-Saxons--heirship, the appointment of the departed
monarch, and the election of the nobles.
That heirship alone did not constitute a valid claim to the throne is
plain from the will of King Alfred, which has been preserved by Asser.
He there styles himself king of the whole of Wessex, by the consent of
the nobility, _nobilitatis consensu pariter et assensu rex_; and in the
same public act declares that he inherited the kingdom, after his two
brothers Ethelbald and Ethelred, by the will of his father, _de
hereditate, quam pater meus Ethelwulphus ... delegavit_. It is quite
evident, therefore, that a thoroughly valid claim to the crown was of
the triple nature now represented. As neither Harold nor William
belonged to the royal line of England, the remaining sources of right
became of the more importance to them.
Let us now revert to the Tapestry. The feeble condition of the King is
well represented. An attendant is supporting him behind with a pillow,
whilst he makes an attempt to speak. The blackness of death has settled
upon his shrunken countenance. A priest dressed in canonicals stands by,
whose uplifted hand and sorrow-stricken face seem to say that the grand
climax is at hand. A lady at the foot of the bed weeps; she is doubtless
the wife of the Confessor, the sister of Harold. Harold is eagerly
pressing his claim. The legend here is, HIC EADWARDUS REX IN LECTO
ALLOQUIT: FIDELES--Here King Edward on his bed addresses his faithful
attendants. Underneath is a scene, which the inscription explains, ET
HIC DEFUNCTUS EST--And here he is dead. A priest in canonicals is again
present, probably the one we saw above, and two attendants wrap up the
body for burial.
The compartment before us is the only one in the Tapestry in which two
scenes are given in one breadth. This is probably not without design.
The death and burial of Edward, and the election and coronation of
Harold, all took place within eight-and-forty hours. It was of great
importance to Harold to get actual possession of the crown before
William could put in his claim. It was usual in these times to perform
the ceremonies of coronation only at one of the great festivals of the
church. Edward died on the last day but one of Christmas, and for Harold
to wait till Easter, the next festival, was to throw away the important
advantage which he had gained over his rival. Hence the rapidity with
which the coronation of Harold followed the death of the Confessor. It
is to show, that no sooner had the vital spirit fled than preparations
for the burial were begun, that we have the two scenes in the same
compartment.
The next pictures represent the election and coronation of Harold.
William of Malmesbury says, “While the grief for the King’s death was
yet fresh, Harold, on the very day of the Epiphany, seized the diadem,
and extorted from the nobles their consent; though the English say, that
it was granted him by the King.”
In many respects the Tapestry is more candid than the Chroniclers. It
here says, HIC DEDERUNT HAROLDO CORONAM REGIS--Here they gave the crown
of the King to Harold; and the next legend is, HIC RESIDET HAROLD REX
ANGLORUM--Here is seated Harold, King of the English. One contemporary
writer denies that Harold was anointed at all, or had any claim but his
own usurpation. In the Doomsday Survey, Harold is mentioned as seldom as
possible, and when his name does occur it is not as King Harold, but
Harold the Earl. The Norman chroniclers, writing subsequently to the
time when William had established his conquest, seldom write his name
without appending some derogatory epithet to it, such as “the perfidious
and perjured King Harold.” All this seems to favour the idea that the
Tapestry was designed during the first visit of William to Normandy. He
had not then broken faith with the Saxon nobles who thronged his court;
he was not yet independent of their good will, so that in stating his
own claims to the crown, he found it necessary not entirely to ignore
their views. After he was firmly established, he cared not what women
stitched or clerks wrote.
The artist has managed the election-scene very adroitly. One nobleman,
in the name of the people, offers Harold the crown, which, as he
intimates by the finger directed towards the death-scene of Edward, he
has just taken from the head of that monarch. Harold looks most
wistfully at it. He seems to say--I should like very much to have it,
but I know it does not belong to me. For a moment he forbears to extend
his hand to grasp it. His right elbow is towards it, but his hand
remains upon his belt. On a line with the crown is an axe, held by
another nobleman, somewhat significantly turned towards Harold. Harold
has his own
[Illustration: PLATE VIII.]
axe in his left hand, and it too, though apparently by accident, is
turned towards himself. The Norman artist, in thus managing the subject,
manifestly serves the cause of William better than if he had altogether
disowned the fact of Harold’s election.
That Harold should have been elected by the people is nothing wonderful.
The native population had groaned under the domination of a crowd of
foreigners, brought over by Edward the Confessor. They must have felt
that under William, a Norman by lineage as well as education, the evil
would be perpetuated and increased. Hence they gave their voices most
cordially and unanimously for the Saxon. Most of the English chroniclers
distinctly state, that Harold was duly elected to the office by the
nobles. Thus Roger of Hoveden, following Florence of Worcester, writes,
“After his burial, the Viceroy Harold, son of Earl Godwin, whom before
his decease the king had appointed his successor, was elevated to the
throne by all the chief men of England, and was on the same day, with
due honour, consecrated king.”[65] That Harold did not thrust himself
upon the people, is abundantly proved by the fact that not one man of
Saxon blood deserted him upon the landing of William.
In our days the great reason which rendered a strictly hereditary
succession to the crown inexpedient does not exist. The adoption of that
wise maxim that a monarch can only rule by his ministers, renders the
personal qualifications of the monarch of less importance than in former
days. Still, even in our time, a remnant exists of the ancient form of
election. In the coronation service the king is directed, after
entering the church and attending to his private devotions, to take his
seat, not on the throne, but on the chair before and below the throne,
and there repose himself. Then the first part of the service, called the
“Recognition,” is to be proceeded with. In it the archbishop,
accompanied by the great officers of state, severally addresses the
assembly northwards and southwards, eastwards and westwards, saying,
with a loud voice, the king meanwhile standing up, “Sirs! I here present
unto you ---- the undoubted king of this realm: wherefore all of you who
are come this day to do your homage, are you willing to do the same?” It
is not until the people, thus severally addressed, have signified their
assent by crying out, “God save the king!” that the ceremony is
proceeded with.
Harold, though he well knew the dangers attending the step, accepted the
crown. Few could have rejected the tempting offer. He was moreover a
brave man, and thoroughly imbued with Saxon feeling. He was willing to
peril his life for the national peculiarities of his country. He was
accordingly straightway anointed, and the Tapestry next exhibits him
seated upon his throne, manifesting all the pomp and dignity of a king.
The throne is considerably elevated above the floor of the apartment.
The sceptre is in one hand, the ball in the other. His officers present
him with the sword of justice. On his left hand stands Stigand, in his
archiepiscopal robes. The superscription calls him Stigant, which seems
further to show that the artist was not an Englishman. Wace the
chronicler, who was a Norman, usually calls Harold, Heraut. The
inscription gives Stigand his title of Archbishop--ARCHIEPS, a
contraction for ARCHIEPISCOPUS. At a period later than that in which we
have supposed the Tapestry to have been prepared, he would not have been
so denominated. For a variety of reasons Stigand was distasteful to the
authorities of Rome. For some years prior to the Conquest, the payment
of Peter’s pence had been discontinued, and Stigand, in common with all
Englishmen, was looked upon coldly. Stigand, moreover, had succeeded the
Norman archbishop, Robert de Jumieges, who had been expelled the country
in the rising under Godwin. The Normans were at this time better
churchmen than the English. Stigand further, in common with the majority
of the Saxon clergy, was an advocate of “the older doctrine of the
eucharist;” Lanfranc, who superseded him, was, in common with the
authorities at Rome, an ardent maintainer of the doctrine of
transubstantiation. Under all these circumstances, Stigand, on being
made archbishop of Canterbury by the Confessor, was not very sanguine of
having the appointment confirmed by the Pope, and instead of making an
immediate application to Rome, quietly took possession of the _pallium_,
which his predecessor in his haste had left behind him. At length he did
apply, and Benedict X., for reasons arising out of his own peculiar
position, granted him the _pallium_. This, however, only made matters
worse. Benedict X. was speedily dethroned by an army from beyond the
mountains, and a new pope elected, who excommunicated his predecessor
and annulled all his acts. Stigand, therefore, found himself once more
without the _pallium_, accused of usurpation, and charged with a new
and much more serious crime, that of having solicited the favour and
countenance of a false and excommunicated pope. If the Tapestry had been
constructed after Lanfranc had planted his foot upon the necks of the
English clergy, Stigand would not have been denominated archbishop. When
William of Malmesbury has occasion to name him, he calls him “the
pretended and false archbishop.”
The Norman chroniclers, for the most part, agree with the Tapestry in
stating that Harold was crowned by Stigand, archbishop of Canterbury.
Florence of Worcester and Roger of Hoveden state, that the solemn
ceremony was performed by Aldred, Archbishop of York. Roger of Wendover
says that the King “placed the diadem on his own head.”
The dress of the archbishop nearly resembles that of a Roman Catholic
prelate of the present day. The _stole_ will be observed. The _pallium_,
which subsequently was made of pure white wool, is in Stigand’s case
purple.[66] The _maniple_ which, at a later period was worn upon the arm
of the priest, is in the Tapestry, and other contemporaneous drawings,
placed on the wrist. But the circumstance most observable in the costume
of Stigand is the absence of the mitre. This distinctive decoration of
the episcopal office seems not to have been known at this period. It is
not met with in the Catacombs of Rome. In the illustrations of the
_Benedictional of St. Æthelwold_ we have priests and apostles in great
numbers, but none of them wear a mitre, unless the circle round the head
of St. Benedict be one. The same remark applies to the illustrations of
the metrical _Paraphrase_ of Cædmon. The bishops of the Lewes chess-men,
which seem to have been executed about the middle of the twelfth
century, probably furnish us with the earliest British examples of a
mitre. The mitres worn by the ecclesiastics who support the head of the
sovereign on the tomb of King John, at Worcester, are also early
examples.[67]
In an apartment next to that in which the ceremonies of the coronation
are being solemnized several spectators are assembled, expressing by
their gestures surprise and apprehension. In the spring of the year 1066
an event occurred which filled the minds of men with alarm. At Easter a
comet appeared, which is noticed by nearly all the chroniclers. Wace
thus describes it:--“Now while these things were doing a great star
appeared, shining for fourteen days, with three long rays streaming
towards the earth; such a star as is wont to be seen when a kingdom is
about to change its king. I have seen many men who saw it, men of full
age at the time, and who lived many years after. Those who would
discourse of the stars call it a comet.” Our worsted astronomers have
produced a very brilliant meteor, with more than twice three streams of
fire issuing from it. Fear doubtless proved a multiplying glass in their
hands. This drawing is, however, remarkable, as furnishing us with the
earliest representation that we have of these erratic bodies.
The discoveries of modern science have attached a peculiar degree of
interest to this comet. Halley, the astronomer, having noticed that a
brilliant comet had been seen in the years 1531, 1607 and 1682,
conceived the idea that it was the same body which had appeared on these
several occasions, and ventured to affirm that comets, like the other
heavenly objects with which we are acquainted, obeyed the laws of
gravitation. The reappearance of this comet in 1759 established his
position, and proved that its periodic time was about seventy-seven
years. These facts, together with the subsequent accurate calculation of
the orbit of the body, enable us to carry back our reckonings, so as to
render it highly probable that the comet which alarmed our ancestors is
that which bears the name of Halley, and whose return in the year 1835
was looked forward to by the civilized world with so much delightful
anticipation. Mr. Hinde, in his recently published book on Comets, says,
“There is considerable probability in favour of the appearance of the
comet in the year of the Norman conquest, or in April 1066. This famous
body, which astonished Europe in that year, is minutely, though not very
clearly, described in the Chinese annals, and its path, there assigned,
is found to agree with elements which have great resemblance to those of
Halley’s comet.... It was equal to the full moon in size, and its train,
at first short, increased to a wonderful length. Almost every historian
and writer of the eleventh century bears witness to the splendour of the
comet of 1066, in which we are disposed to recognise the comet of
Halley.”[68] The legend to this part of the Tapestry is, ISTI MIRANT
STELLAM--These men wonder at the star.
The minds of men were not long kept in suspense. The next compartment
exhibits King Harold seated on his throne, bending down his ear very
eagerly to a messenger who has arrived with important intelligence. The
nature of it is explained by the dreamy-like flotilla which is shown in
the lower border.
Harold, on succeeding to the throne, neglected to dispossess of their
offices the Norman favourites whom Edward left behind him. He no doubt
thought, by conciliation, to procure their good will. He was mistaken. A
ship is immediately fitted out, and messengers sent to Normandy to
acquaint the Duke with the important events which had just transpired.
This is shown in the Tapestry (_Plate VIII._) in a scene which is
superscribed, HIC NAVIS ANGLICA VENIT IN TERRAM WILLELMI DUCIS--Here an
English ship came to the territory of Duke William.
William takes the news in terrible dudgeon. We see him in the next
compartment sitting erect upon his ducal throne wearing an air of great
indignation. His mantle seems to have partaken of the passion of its
wearer, and is expanded to its full dimensions.
Wace tells us, “The Duke was in his park in Rouen. He held in his hand a
bow, which he had strung and bent, making it ready for the arrow ...
when, behold!... a serjeant appeared, who came journeying from England
... who went straight to the Duke, and told him privily that King Edward
was dead, and that Harold was raised to be king. When the Duke had
listened to him ... he became as a man enraged, and left the craft of
the woods. Oft he tied his mantle, and oft he untied it again; and spoke
to no man, neither dared any man speak to him. Then he crossed the Seine
in a boat, and came to his hall and entered therein; and sat down at the
end of a bench, shifting his place from time to time, covering his face
with his mantle, and resting his head against a pillar. Thus he remained
long, in deep thought, for no one dared to speak to him; but many asked
aside, ‘what ails the Duke? why makes he such bad cheer?’”
Once, in more recent history, a man standing on the shores of France was
similarly agitated. Napoleon had ordered his fleets to the West Indies,
in order that they might lead Nelson into a pursuit, and suddenly
returning gain possession of the English Channel. Long and anxiously did
he watch the signals which were to tell him that his point was
gained--but he saw them not. When it was hinted that Villeneuve, instead
of forcing his way to Brest, might possibly have steered for Cadiz, he
gave way to successive gusts of passion, and read and re-read the
despatches of Villeneuve and of Lauriston. When told, at last, that
beyond a doubt Villeneuve was at Cadiz, strong excesses of passion again
ensued, and the Army of England was transferred from the heights of
Boulogne to the plains of Austerlitz.