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  If the book had been created by the end of the eighth century, it fortuitously survived the rapaciousness and barbarism of invaders. In 795 Norsemen began a series of attacks on Iona in search of booty. They came again in 802, and four years after that, and again two decades later. In their raids they not only took various relics but destroyed certain objects and slaughtered monks. By 880 all the monks’ relics had been removed from Iona, mostly to Ireland.

  The Great Gospel of Columcille was taken to the village of Kells, in the central eastern part of Ireland. It was kept in the cathedral there, and the worshipers made pilgrimages to the village to see this relic. Its reputation spread, and of course it was an object of temptation to plunderers. In 1007 a robber stole the one-volume manuscript and its case from the cathedral at Kells. He extracted its gold cover festooned with valuable gems (never since found) and discarded the pages. Many of the leaves were found eleven weeks later submerged in sod, a discovery recorded in the Annals of Ulster. The manuscript remained at Kells until the 1650s, when it was taken to Dublin. (This was at a time of political instability because of the civil war in England and the rise to power of the Puritans and Oliver Cromwell.) After 1661 the manuscript was taken for safekeeping to Trinity College, where only once did it suffer a casualty—the result of ineptness rather than deliberate mutilation. In 1821 a binder cropped the manuscript in various places, cutting off sections of the design. In 1953 the Book of Kells was separated into its individual Gospels and bound into four volumes.

  Within a hundred years after the invention of printing around the mid-1400s, the golden age of illuminated manuscripts came to an end. Over the centuries many superb artifacts were lost in Europe in such conflicts and calamities as the Crusades, the Black Death, the Hundred Years’ War, the Wars of the Roses, the Napoleonic Wars, and much more. But as turmoil ravaged much of the outside world, the Book of Kells was kept sequestered in quiet rooms, perhaps not unlike the scriptoria in which it was created. The pages of this majestic work show the artistic genius of the medieval monks who, as much as they brilliantly illuminated the pages, created a work for the ages, one that owing to the good graces of serendipity and careful preservation will shine on for posterity.

  LOCATION: Trinity College Library, Dublin, Ireland.

  THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY AND THE DOMESDAY BOOK

  DATE: Circa 1070s, Bayeux Tapestry; 1086, Domesday Book.

  WHAT THEY ARE: The Bayeux Tapestry is an embroidery that pictorially depicts the conquest of England by William, the duke of Normandy. The Domesday Book is William’s exhaustive survey of landholdings and livestock in England, made twenty years after he became the ruler of the country.

  WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE: The Bayeux Tapestry measures almost 20 inches wide and 230 feet long. It is embroidered on linen with dyed wools of different colors. Latin inscriptions accompany the various scenes. The Domesday Book is in two parts: Great Domesday (split into two volumes in 1986), a survey of thirty-one counties, containing nearly 400 folios written in two columns; and Little Domesday, a survey of three counties, containing 450 folios written in a single column, and only slightly smaller. Both are written on parchment made from sheepskin, and the text is in Latin.

  The lack of a clear successor to a childless king set the stage for a momentous medieval drama. Inevitably, the denouement was bloody, but it was also surprisingly swift; in the measure of a fleeting moment, the social fabric of a nation and the course it would take through the currents of history were altered dramatically. The story of the last conquest of England by an outsider and the conqueror’s vivid accounting of his new kingdom, both unique records that are intertwined historically, are remarkably preserved in two separate artifacts of the day.

  The future of England lay in darkness in January 1066, when King Edward the Confessor died and left no child to inherit his coveted realm. When the very next day the earl of Wessex, Harold Godwineson, hastily installed himself on the royal seat, thoughts of conquest began fomenting in the minds of powerful men in surrounding lands. Tostig, Harold’s exiled brother in Flanders, wanted to return to his homeland and take the throne for himself. King Harold Hardraade of Norway, ever on the lookout to expand his empire, also coveted England. And William, duke of Normandy, believed himself the rightful heir of Edward, claiming the king had promised him the crown and that Harold had sworn a sacred oath to support William as Edward’s successor after William obtained his release when he was taken prisoner in France and held for ransom.

  While Harold Godwineson tended to the tasks facing the new royal administration, what was really on his mind were the hostile fleets he knew would press through the seas and land on the shores of England. Anticipating a major assault by Duke William, he mobilized his forces on England’s southern coast. Tostig was the first to launch an attack, however, and he was repelled by Harold’s superior troops.

  By August the English army grew tired of waiting for William—who was delayed by unfavorable winds—and with its provisions nearly exhausted, it disbanded. Then the Norwegians attacked at Stamford Bridge—joined by Tostig, who had taken refuge in Scotland—and defeated the men serving the earls of that area. Harold summoned his available forces north, and they crushed the aggressors.

  By now William was anxiously awaiting the right winds to launch his ambitious campaign. Realizing the formidable task of taking on the English militia on their own grounds, he assembled the most potent army he could. He appealed to Norman aristocrats and prelates for financial support. He denounced Harold’s violation of his sacred oath and received the blessing of the papacy in Rome. Professional warriors throughout Europe were attracted to his mission for the booty that the conquest promised.

  Sometime after dark on September 27, William and an army of approximately eight thousand warriors and a large number of horses on hundreds of vessels set sail from St.-Valéry-sur-Somme, arriving the next morning at the English coastal town of Pevensey. The troops immediately proceeded to Hastings, a more strategic location; from there they pillaged the surrounding countryside, baiting Harold to expedite orders to march his troops south. Several days later an army of English soldiers, exhausted and hungry, arrived from Stamford Bridge near York and made camp. The following morning, the fourteenth of October, 1066, William launched an attack at Hastings. The encounter was a brutal affair, fought with metal maces, battle-axes, lances, swords, spears, clubs, and arrows, and William defeated Harold. He continued his campaign north and finally gained recognition of his claim to the English throne.

  Probably within a decade of the Battle of Hastings, work began on a wall hanging recording the events that caused William to invade England and the conquest itself. It is not known for certain who made or commissioned the work. Traditionally, it was held that King William’s wife, Matilda, stitched it as a tribute to her husband, with the help of her attendants. This theory was discounted by nineteenth-century investigators, however, who believed the work was commissioned by William’s half-brother, Odon de Conteville, a bishop in the French town of Bayeux. The evidence does indeed point to the bishop, given William’s largesse to Odon; the tapestry’s premise being skewed in favor of William, justifying his attack on England; the featuring of Odon in the work; the home of the tapestry being the same town as Odon’s; and other factors. If this is true, it is also quite ironic for two reasons: the tapestry was probably made in England, whose people were conquered by the leader it glorifies, and Odon eventually fell out of favor with William and by his orders was imprisoned.

  The Bayeux Tapestry is on eight pieces of cloth and in the eighteenth century was divided into fifty-eight scenes. Its extended length and narrow width give it the appearance of an enlarged ribbon, and what a colorful one it is. People, animals, boats, weapons, trees, buildings, and other objects are stitched in action scenes in brightly colored wools against a light background; the Latin inscriptions appear above the action near the top. The craftsmanship is of extremely high quality: the artwork is detailed (facial expressions are apparent
, for example, and costumes are decorative), the stitching brings out contrast and depth, and the text is woven clearly.

  A panel scene from the Bayeux Tapestry: Duke William of Normandy issuing commands to his soldiers after Harold, the emissary of the king of England, is captured in France.

  The story illustrated and narrated in the Bayeux Tapestry begins with King Edward in conversation. By some accounts, he is ordering Harold to go to Normandy to announce to William that he has chosen him as his successor. The English duke, Harold, and his soldiers set off on their journey on horseback, with a pack of hounds in front of them. At Bosham church (which can still be found in Sussex) Harold prays for divine blessing in his mission. Later, Harold and his men are dining when word comes that the wind is favorable. Harold and his crew board their ships. A storm blows Harold’s fleet off course. Instead of landing on the coast of Normandy, the ships land on the coast of Ponthieu. The crew disembarks, and Harold is taken prisoner by the owner of the land, Count Guy de Ponthieu. Harold is taken to the count’s palace and held for ransom. Representatives of Duke William, who heard about Harold’s abduction, come to Guy’s palace. Failing to obtain Harold’s release, they report back to the duke, who dispatches a couple of knights to effect Harold’s emancipation. Count Guy delivers his prisoner to William, who brings the Englishman to his castle, where they talk. William is said to promise one of his daughters to be betrothed to Harold. Then William leads an army of Normans, with Harold joining them, in a mission to expel the duke of Brittany, Conan, a disloyal subject. Along the route horses fall in the quicksands of Mont-St.-Michel bay. The Norman soldiers attack the enemy. In defeat, Conan turns over the city keys to William. William knights Harold, then brings him to Bayeux, where the English duke takes a sacred oath to support William as Edward’s successor.

  Harold returns to England and reports to King Edward, who dies shortly thereafter. Saxon nobles offer Harold the crown of England, and Harold becomes king. People sight a comet, commonly believed to be a harbinger of disaster; astrologers say the comet portends bad luck for Harold.

  Messengers leave by ship to tell Duke William of Harold’s ascension. By William’s orders, men chop down trees to build a fleet. Weapons are gathered and carried to the ships. By horse and by foot, William’s massive army travels to the vessels. They cross the Channel and arrive at Pevensey. The horses are let off the ships, and the army rushes to Hastings, where the men prepare a meal, blessed by Bishop Odon.

  William receives a message that Harold’s troops are coming. William’s soldiers leave Hastings and ready for war. Scouts inform both William and Harold about the opposing army’s position, and William urges his men to fight bravely and intelligently.

  Arrival at the English port of Pevensey by Duke William's ship.

  The battle begins. Many Englishmen are cut down, including Harold’s brothers Lewine and Gyrd. The casualties mount on both sides. William raises his helmet to let his men know he is still alive, and his troops are spurred on. Saxon soldiers are killed, and then Harold, king of England, is himself mortally wounded. The remaining Saxon soldiers flee, and William, duke of Normandy, has conquered England.

  The Bayeux Tapestry took about ten years to make. By the time it was finished, William was firmly implanted as the king of England, and many of his soldiers had become permanent residents of a new land.

  As mighty as William the Conqueror was, much of his reign was spent quelling rebellions and warding off invasions by foreigners. To the English, William himself was a foreigner, a Norman. The rewards he gave to his soldiers and Norman supporters came at the expense of staunch Anglo-Saxons. Resentful old English nobility, regarded as a threat to the new king’s power, were killed or compelled to flee the country.

  William performed quite competently in defending his realm, as Normans and Anglo-Saxons melded under one feudal system. But on Christmas 1085, almost twenty years after he was crowned, at a meeting convened at the royal court in Gloucester, William held “very deep speech” with his witan (counselors) about English land and its ownership. For complex reasons, including the need to assess geld (land tax) liability (particularly in view of William’s need to buttress his army in the face of more likely foreign invasions) and the king’s desire for a written record of his feudal kingdom and its wealth, he decided to conduct a survey of his realm.

  The survey commenced in 1086. Commissioners, or legati, were dispatched to hold inquests in the country’s shires. It was the task of the king’s representatives to compile detailed accounts of how much land and livestock everyone had and what their values were; what land William had in the country; and what taxes he should collect annually from each shire.

  According to a later medieval document, the commissioners requested much information:

  The name of the estate; who held it in the time of King Edward; who holds it now; how many hides [units of land ownership]; how many ploughs on the demesne [the lord’s land]; how many among the men; how many villeins [free peasants in between cottars and sokemen in status); how many cottars [lowest subordinate peasants]; how many slaves; how many freemen; how many sokemen [free peasants]; how much wood; how much meadow; how much pasture; how many mills; how many fishponds; how much has been added or taken away; how much, taken altogether, it used to be worth and how much now; how much each freeman or sokeman had or has. All this [to be given] three times, that is, in the time of King Edward, as it was when King William first gave the estate, and as it is now; also whether it is possible that more [revenue] could be taken from the estate than is being taken now.*

  The Domesday Book actually consists of two books, Great Domesday (in back) and Little Domesday.

  The survey was referred to by various names over the next century. But Domesday, meaning judgment day, dominated popular usage. This was no doubt because of tales of woe passed on about the inquests, which were conclusive and dreaded affairs that consumed the lives of Englishmen for the better part of a year.

  Information obtained by the king’s authorities was turned over to the royal treasury at Winchester, where it is believed a single scribe transferred the information into a single volume, Great Domesday. Little Domesday was written in the hand of several men during the period of the inquests and probably not transferred to Great Domesday because of the death of William in 1087.

  Domesday is not a perfect document. There are errors, inconsistencies, and omissions; northern counties and large towns such as London and Winchester were not included in the survey. No doubt its imperfections are due, in part, to William’s desire to accomplish the survey quickly.

  On the surface, the Domesday volumes appear as simple inventories of properties. Yet between the lines they contain a wealth of data to which scholars have devoted lifetimes of study. They are an invaluable treasury of information on medieval life, cryptic in part, with new jewels constantly being brought to the surface.

  Both the Bayeux Tapestry and the Domesday Book are remarkable eleventh-century historical works. The tapestry presents a fascinating chronicle of the last conquest of England, and the Domesday Book offers a vivid portrait of feudal England that sheds light on every layer of English society, from slaves and shepherds to knights and barons and King William himself. That such massive undertakings were executed and carried out so methodically is as astonishing as their preservation through the centuries.

  LOCATIONS: Bayeux Tapestry: William the Conqueror Center, Bayeux, France.

  Domesday Book: Public Record Office, London, England.

  Footnote

  *From Domesday: A Search for the Roots of England by Michael Wood (New York: Facts on File Publications, 1986).

  THE HOLY CHILD OF ARACOELI

  DATE: Circa 1490s.

  WHAT IT IS: A small statue of a child, venerated for working miracles.

  WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE: The statue is 20½ inches high and made of wood, and has a 4-inch-high crown. It is dressed in a gown bedecked with golden chains, pins, lockets, and other jewels given by peopl
e as expressions of gratitude.

  The letters pour in daily: supplications from the sick and needy, confessions from the contrite, appeals for solace from the bereaved. From around the world, the faithful send missives to a little statue known as the Holy Child. The correspondents expect no earthly acknowledgment of their prayers and entreaties but devoutly believe their letters will be answered in a more ethereal way.

  The story of the Holy Child of Aracoeli is part fact and part legend, the latter an unavoidable consequence of time and reverence becoming intertwined with the subject. The saga begins in Jerusalem at the close of the fifteenth century, when a Franciscan friar fashioned a wooden statue in the image of a young Jesus Christ, the wood allegedly from an olive tree in Gethsemane, the garden tended by the Franciscans. The Garden of Gethsemane, the New Testament tells us, was where Jesus went after the Last Supper, entered into an intense time of prayer, was strengthened by an angel, and then arrested prior to the Crucifixion.

  The friar ran into trouble when it came time to paint the carved figure, because he lacked the desired coloring materials. Having commenced this project with great enthusiasm, the friar was deeply distressed and prayed fervently for help. Then, as legend has it, he fell asleep, during which time an angel appeared and painted the statue. Word of the miracle spread, and people came from all over to see Il Santa Bambino, the Holy Child.