The Battle of Hastings (20 page)

51
.  
Carmen
, eds Morton and Muntz, p. 6, ll. 53, 59, 63–4.

52
.  C. and G. Grainge, ‘The Pevensey expedition: brilliantly executed plan or near disaster?’,
Mariner’s Mirror
, 1993, pp. 261–73.

53
.  Gillmor, ‘Naval logistics’, p. 124; J. Gillingham, ‘William the Bastard at war’, reprinted in S. Morillo,
The Battle of Hastings
, Woodbridge, 1996, pp. 96–112, p. 109.

54
.  
Carmen
, eds Morton and Muntz, p. 6.

55
.  Wace, ed. Holden, ii, p. 124, ll. 6453–5.

56
.  Lemmon, ‘Campaign’, p. 89; Wright,
Hastings
, p. 52 quotes E.A. Freeman,
The History of the Norman Conquest in England
, 6 vols, Oxford, 1867–79, iii, p. 410. Wace, ed. Holden, ii, pp. 124–5; William of Poitiers, ed. Foreville, p. 164.

I
t is time to pause before we look at the actual conflict. We have already made use of most of the sources which give accounts of the battle.
1
Use of Wace, for example, has often been preceded by some modifying remark to warn of his relative unreliability. Some sources are clearly invaluable, and our whole look at the period depends on them. But now we come to the crux of our present business, the battle itself. Any modern account depends not only on the contemporary and near-contemporary sources, but also on interpretation of them. History is not a precise science. We never have perfect materials on which to work. The degrees between good, reliable material and difficult, unreliable material are many and slight along the way. Some works themselves are rather like the curate’s egg, good in parts. What each historian chooses to use or to disregard makes his own view individual. One historian will disagree with another, but there is no absolute right and wrong. However much care we take, we can get it wrong. Indeed, we do not truly know if we get it right or wrong; we can only do our best. It is necessary to make a careful evaluation of sources but, in the end, interpretation of them is subjective rather than objective, since none of us knows the absolute truth of what happened in the past.

The battle of Hastings is well covered as medieval battles go, and we know much more about it than most conflicts. It was quickly recognised as a major event, and was treated as such – headline news for any chronicler writing on the period. The major lack in the Hastings sources is of an eyewitness account. This is a serious gap, and we have no way of filling it. No one who was on the field of Hastings has left us an account of what happened. All our narratives are therefore at second hand. Even then, in nearly all cases, we can only guess at where the chronicler obtained his information, and how much reliance can be placed upon it. Our primary concern though must be to try and gauge which chroniclers were best placed to receive accounts from participants and give good information.

We also must try to determine the viewpoint of the writer, since we know how much this affects his account. We try to detect bias and partisanship, and it is often apparent; medieval writers made little attempt to be neutral as modern journalists sometimes pretend to be. And they were all human; each one lived a life which gave a particular view to the events at Hastings. One would be a monk, hearing accounts from knightly guests; one would be a chaplain in a noble or royal household, listening to the table chit-chat of battles past; another would grow up in a house where the elders told tales of valour in days gone by. In a way, the openness of these opinions is an advantage, because the bias is often clear, and allows us to counter it. At Hastings, the most obvious bias would be whether the writer was pro-Norman or pro-Saxon. As it happens, nearly all the sources for the battle are Norman in viewpoint, and this creates a problem in trying to make a fair balance.

The other major consideration (we do not have time to go beyond this in our discussion) is the date at which the writer was putting quill to vellum. Obviously the nearer to the event the more valuable the account tends to be. Unfortunately again, precision on dating is not always possible. We usually begin from undated manuscripts, sometimes only copies without originals, sometimes only printed copies with the originals lost. Dating manuscripts is a whole science on its own, and dating works where we do not possess the autograph work by the writer is even more difficult. That said, we can usually come to some conclusion, an approximate date which gives at least a suggestion as to the likely value of a source.

Let us then survey briefly our major sources, and try to give some indication of their main values and weaknesses. There is still a certain amount of dating debate over the two main Norman chronicle accounts, but they are both eleventh century. In most people’s estimation, the major source for Hastings and the Conquest is William of Poitiers’
Gesta Gulielmi Ducis Normannorum et Regis Anglorum
(Deeds of William, Duke of the Normans and King of the English).
2
The original manuscript belonging to Sir John Cotton was copied and printed by Duchesne in 1619 and never seen again. The original may have been burnt in a fire in 1731. For dating we must rely on evidence within the contents of the account. There is a good modern edition of this by Raymonde Foreville, with a French translation, and sections are printed with English translations in all modern collections of sources relating to the Conquest and the battle. The main reason for recognising its value is twofold: it is the most detailed account of events that we have, and it is by someone who was in a position to be well informed. William of Poitiers may be treated as virtually the mouthpiece of the Conqueror. It was also written down early, Foreville believes by 1074, most others would agree by 1077. We know a little about the writer: he came from a noble family in or near Préaux, related to the Beaumonts, and had apparently early in life been trained in military discipline. But his sister became an abbess, and he became a priest at about the age of thirty. He had been born in Normandy in about 1028 and for some time studied in Poitiers, hence his toponym. He had legal knowledge and was for a time Archdeacon of Lisieux. He entered the household of the Conqueror as a chaplain, and this of course is why his work has such value. He did not cross to England in 1066, but he did come at some slightly later date. He saw the Conqueror as a hero who could virtually do no wrong, which is where we treat him with some circumspection. What we have goes up to 1067, but his account up to 1075 is probably used and preserved by Orderic Vitalis.

The second important Norman source is the
Gesta Normannorum Ducum
(Deeds of the Dukes of the Normans) by William of Jumièges.
3
In contrast to William of Poitiers, this work does not concentrate on the Conqueror. It is a history of all the dukes. The early section is almost a direct copy from the work of Dudo of St-Quentin, which makes one wonder about William of Jumièges’ historical acumen. But it does come up to his own period, and he was writing in the early 1070s. He was a monk at Jumièges, a great Norman monastery with old links to England in its associations. His work was added to by other writers in the versions we have, in particular by Orderic Vitalis and Robert of Torigny. This has been known for some time, and there are two modern editions. The best and the most recent is by Elisabeth van Houts, and has an English translation with the Latin, and clear indications of whether the work we are reading is by William of Jumièges or one of the interpolators.

The chief English source for the Conquest is the
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle
, which is actually several different versions of a work begun in the time of Alfred the Great.
4
It is a year by year account of events. Additions to the annals were kept in several monasteries, and so different versions of the
Chronicle
developed. This became more complex over time, as one house borrowed a version from another house and then began to make its own additions. There are five main versions, known as A, B, C, D and E. The one which gives the fullest account of the Conquest is version D, the manuscript for which is written in a late eleventh-century hand. Both D and E may come from a version which had been made in York, sometimes called the northern recension. They are pretty well the same until 1031. D then continues with its interest predominantly in the north, probably still being kept at York. It continues till 1079. From 1031 E was probably being written up at Peterborough; it continued later than other versions of the
Chronicle
, until 1154. These versions, D and E, are therefore mainly from the point of view of northern and eastern England, where Scandinavian influence was strongest, not in the heartland of Godwin power. The writers are Benedictine monks but, so far as we know, without the major contacts that benefited William of Poitiers. Nevertheless, the D version in particular is valuable material as the main English view of what happened, and told in Old English. The easiest version of the
Chronicle
to use is that edited by Dorothy Whitelock and others, which places the versions side by side in columns so that comparison is easy; but for the original Old English one needs to go to other editions.

John of Worcester may be taken in conjunction with the
Chronicle
, since its earlier part is almost a Latin version of it.
5
The Anglo-Saxon material used to be called the work of Florence of Worcester, but his recent editor argues that we should call the work John of Worcester’s. Here we have another Benedictine house, Worcester, keeping an annal. The value of the Worcester account is that although close to version D on the Conquest, it is at least another English view of events.

The other major source for the Conquest is that invaluable and unique embroidery and document in one, the Bayeux Tapestry.
6
We all know that it is really an embroidery and not a tapestry as such, but it would be pedantic to call it by anything other than its familiar name. Those who view it in its present setting are often surprised that it is only 20 inches high, but also marvel at its 230 foot length, which cannot be appreciated in full in the usual book reproductions in separate plates. Indeed, the way the artist has designed the scenes to move fluently along from one event to the next is masterly. The backing is of bleached linen, and the embroidery is in five main colours of wool, with three less used colours. An artist sketched the scenes, and the embroiderers filled in the outlines with laid and couched work, stem stitch and outline stitch. It is made of eight sections pieced cunningly together so that one has to search hard to find the joins. The original end is lost, probably because of the manner in which it used to be kept rolled up. It is thought that perhaps 9 feet are lost, and that the missing section may have contained scenes of William’s entry into London and his coronation. The latter would be a fitting conclusion, since we have the Confessor on his throne at the start and Harold’s coronation in the centre. Apart from the main narrative beginning with Harold’s trip to Normandy and ending with the English flight after Hastings, there are top and bottom margins, which sometimes add to the main story, sometimes retail myths and fables, and also provide delightful illustrations of such things as harrowing, scaring birds, hunting and boat-building. It is now widely accepted that the work was made for Odo, Bishop of Bayeux. It is possible that some of the minor figures on the Tapestry – Wadard, Vital and Turold – were tenants of Odo, who soon became earl of Kent.

The Tapestry may have been specially made for display in Bayeux Cathedral at its dedication in 1077. Some critics have thought certain scenes on the Tapestry too bawdy to be intended for such an ecclesiastical setting, but this seems to come from modern rather than medieval sensibilities. Certainly, an inventory of 1476 shows that the Tapestry was at the cathedral then, and was put on view annually. Some efforts have been made to devalue the Tapestry. A recent suggestion was that the ‘kebabs’ were too modern and that the work dates from the nineteenth century. But although it is clear there were some repairs done to the original, we can still feel safe that it is an early and valuable contribution to our knowledge. Its particular value is that it gives pictorial versions, and therefore information not otherwise available. Indeed, it is not merely visual evidence but a great work of art.

The Tapestry also has a written legend, a brief account of the events portrayed. From its tone this is almost certainly the work of a Norman, or at least a pro-Norman, though it does have one or two interesting touches of English sympathy, such as the rescue carried out by Harold on the Brittany expedition. It completely ignores the invasion by Hardrada. The Tapestry magnifies the role of Odo of Bayeux, who barely appears in the chronicle accounts.

It was probably made in England and worked by English embroiderers, perhaps at Canterbury: some of the scenes seem to have been adapted from manuscript art in Canterbury works. English working seems evident in such places as the use of a crossed d in names and in the English version of the Hastings place-name.

A printed copy was published in 1730 by Montfaucon, the drawings done by A. Benoît. The original was nearly lost during the French Revolution, when it had to be rescued from being used to cover a wagon. It was taken to Paris, and returned for exhibition at the Hôtel de Ville in Bayeux in 1812. It is known that repairs were done in 1842, which can be recognised from the use of different colours in the wool, and restoration marks on the linen. Modern examination has included such details as stitch marks which suggest how the original looked.

Then there are a number of sources to which we choose to give a secondary place, either because there is some question mark over their reliability and/or because they are late in time compared to the sources already mentioned. The most interesting of this group is the
Carmen de Hastingae Proelio
(The Song of the Battle of Hastings).
7
This is a long poem about the battle. It is very detailed and many historians have considered it a prime source, and some still do. To a degree the jury is still out on the
Carmen
, though all would agree it has
some
value. The manuscript was rediscovered in 1826 by G.H. Pertz. There was no title on the manuscript, indeed its subject matter is really ‘The Norman Conquest’ rather than simply the battle. It was written by an educated person, with plenty of biblical and classical references. It has been thought that this was a work mentioned in the twelfth century by Orderic Vitalis, a poem about the Battle of Hastings by Guy, Bishop of Amiens. This being so, it would be an early source, earlier than William of Poitiers. But the surviving manuscripts, one main and one tributary, which come from Trier, have been dated to about
AD
1100 from the handwriting. If written by Guy, then it was by a respected and important noble, who came to England with the Conqueror’s wife a couple of years after Hastings. The poem retains a mysterious dedication with initial and not names: ‘L … W … salutat’ – which could be either L greets W, or W greets L. Those who name Guy as the author fill in ‘Lanfrancum Wido salutat’ (Guy greets Lanfranc (Archbishop of Canterbury, 1070-89)).