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 Dr Monk puts forward the artistic case for male genitalia and its significance to the Tapestry's narrativeIs the appendage dangling below the tunic of the little fellow on the right, found in the bottom border, the ‘missed penis’ of the Bayeux Tapestry? Or is it a scabbard? First, some context is needed. The 'debate' Back in 2016, I published an essay about the meaning of naked figures in the Bayeux Tapestry borders.[1] I explained that previous commentators seemed to have missed the genitals of this running, club-wielding man. Also, I made the case for how the appearance in the border of a penis (and its appurtenances, the testicles) works artistically as a visual metonym, or shorthand, for overt or excessive masculinity, as it creates a dialogue with the events depicted in the main, central register of the Tapestry. Put more plainly, when one sees the genitals, one also sees the machismo observable in the big story of Harold and William. In 2018, Professor George Garnett wrote a fascinating piece for History Extra in which he counted the number of penises in the Bayeux Tapestry, human and equine. He tallied them at 93, but did not count the one under scrutiny here. (By the way, I have never counted the penises myself.) He has subsequently stated that he believes it isn’t a penis but, rather, a scabbard for a sword or dagger, with a yellow blob at the end, representing brass. Bayeux Tapestry Penises do not have yellow blobs at the end, he argues. The scenes in the Bayeux TapestryOur running man in the lower border, and let’s not forget his less noticeable friend, are woven – or should that be stitched? – into one of Aesop’s fables, The Wolf and the Kid. You can find it in full at the online Bayeux Museum, scenes 6-7. I summarised the fable in my essay thus (p. 57): In this story, the young goat wanders away from his mother and the safety of the flock, guarded by dogs, and is confronted by a ravenous wolf. The kid is saved when it persuades the wolf to allow him to sing Mass before he is eaten. The wolf agrees but as a consequence the singing attracts the dogs, which subsequently chase him off. The depiction of our two men, with their clubs aloft and joining the chase, adds artistic flare to the original story and also gives the opportunity for, shall we say, further augmentation, that is, from my perspective, the notorious dangling manhood. As it happens – though it really is no coincidence – the main narrative of the Tapestry shows from this point the account of Harold being captured by the predatory Guy of Ponthieu and his subsequent rescue by two of Duke William’s men – big, strapping fellows that they are (scenes 6-11). In my essay, I spelt out how I saw the border scene and the connection to the main event (pp. 57-8): The two men stride out as if running, and both bear aloft their clubs, adding a sense of bravado to the actual menace of the chasing pack of hounds. It is in this context of aggressive confrontation, then, that the genitals act as a mode of emphasis. Exposed male genitals articulate the machismo of chasing down the wolf […]. Just as William’s men charge with alacrity to confront and overrule Guy, so the two border figures chase off the predator. A more testosterone-soaked scene is hard to find. Well, truthfully, there are plenty of scenes of political aggression and posturing in the Bayeux Tapestry: it reeks of male hormones! And often these are accompanied by human penises, which was the thrust of my essay; and, moreover, the reason that horses are sometimes shown with erections, something that Professor Garnett alludes to and which, importantly, Dr Sarah Larratt Keefer wrote about way back in her 2005 study, ‘Body Language: A Graphic Commentary by the horses of the Bayeux Tapestry’.[2] Now for the all-consuming question: penis or scabbard? To answer this is straightforward, because all we need to do is look to the artistic harmony of the Tapestry itself. Why it’s not a scabbard Two things: scabbards are not shown in the Bayeux Tapestry with ornamentation at their bottom end – no ‘blobs’; and the position of the dangling appendage is completely wrong for a scabbard. There are so many examples of scabbards we could look at (please go to the online Bayeux Museum to take a gander) all confirming the above, but here are two of the best: Scene 9  Here, Harold is taken to Duke William. And what a beautiful scabbard he has. But, crucially, there’s no ornamentation at the pointy end. No ‘blob’, alas. Scene 53  I’ve chosen this scene to show you not only which way scabbards point when worn, but because the man is running, just as our little fellow in the border is. As you see, the non-blobby scabbard is pointing backwards, away from the running man; it does not point as we see the offending article doing in the border figure; in fact, it’s almost completely in the opposite direction. In short, then, scabbards neither look, nor behave elsewhere in the Bayeux Tapestry as does the thing beneath our man’s tunic. Why it must be a penis – well, more accurately, male genitalsOne of the most important things when studying detail in early medieval/Anglo-Saxon artwork is to observe patterns. In the case of male genitalia in the Bayeux Tapestry, human and equine, there are patterns for a penis, we might say (just as there are for scabbards). They are ‘drawn’ consistently. I will, though, acknowledge one particular human, rather serpentine penis that brooks the trend – the penis, minus testicles, comes from his belly! – due to it being reconstructed stitching, as I’ve previously blogged about here and here. The handful of human genitalia depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry include this full-frontal on this fully naked fellow in the lower border: Scene 15  Note that he has the full package of testicles, penis shaft and head. And take a look at this chap’s partially obscured genitals in the upper border: Scenes 47/48  What we should observe here is the close similarity between his visible testicles and the circular bits of our running man's appendage.  Equine genitalia Particularly helpful when looking for patterns are the depictions of horses’ genitalia. There is some variety, as you will see for yourself, should you wish to spend an hour or more exploring equine bits at the Bayeux Museum (maybe use the online one). For example, colours vary significantly, but that is a feature of the Tapestry generally, as colour is often not used realistically. Certain things, nevertheless, reoccur. And most importantly for my argument is that male horses are shown to have testicles (one often overlapping the other), a shaft (sometimes short, sometimes long), and the shaft has a head, or glans. Sounds familiar already, no? Here are my favourite horse genitalia (should I re-phrase that?): Scene 10  This one, rather pertinently, is on one of the horses that Duke William’s men ride to chase off Guy of Ponthieu. Testicles, shaft and head all present and correct. Scene 12  Just a little further along, in the lower border, a club-wielding man rides a well-endowed stallion in another chasing scene. A single testicle this time, and the shaft and head are shown. And finally: Scene 57  Most famously, the man himself Duke William is presented with his horse who has a prodigiously long penis shaft, complete with its head, and two testicles. As I am sure you can see with these examples, male equine genitalia share the same three characteristics as human male genitalia. And, most relevant, the dangling appendage of our running man fits the same pattern rather well. A note on the stitchingIt should be noted, as I’ve explained in a few replies on social media, that the stitch-work of the ‘missed penis’ is a mixture of original stitches and nineteenth-century reconstruction. This was explained to me by medieval embroidery expert, Dr Alexandra Makin, whom I consulted for my essay. To quote a footnote on this (n. 27): [...] the black stitches of the penis shaft and the outline of the testicles are restorations; the infilling of the testicles is likely original stitch-work; and the penis head is also possibly original. I suspect the tiny size of what was being restored and the condition of the linen may have made the restoration rather tricky, and so we should forgive the perhaps messy appearance of the dangling member. End of the 'debate'?I hope that the above has put an end to the academics-at-loggerheads debate, as it’s been rather amusingly characterised by the UK press. Male genitals, not a scabbard. That’s where the internal, art historical evidence points. I’m well aware, however, that firm conclusions are a rarity when it comes to interpreting the Bayeux Tapestry. New ideas and theories rise up frequently. Or, put another way, one should never count one’s penises too quickly.  Notes[1] Christopher J. Monk, ‘Figuring out nakedness in the borders of the Bayeux Tapestry’, Making Sense of the Bayeux Tapestry: Readings and Reworkings, ed. Anna C. Henderson with Gale R. Owen-Crocker (Manchester University Press, 2016), pp. 54-74. [2] Sarah Larratt Keefer, ‘Body language: A graphic commentary by the horses of the Bayeux Tapestry’, in King Harold II and the Bayeux Tapestry, ed. Gale R. Owen-Crocker (Boydell, 2005), pp. 93-108.
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 Textus Roffensis, folios 32v-37r. The opening of King Athelstan's Grately Code, recently translated by Dr Monk. Image courtesy of the Chapter of Rochester Cathedral. Blessed ones, Dr Monk's translations of the early English laws from the Textus Roffensis manuscript are now available via the Kent Archaeological Society's (KAS) website.
Dr Monk produced a new video about Textus Roffensis, which was shown as the keynote address at the 2024 annual CALCA (Cathedral Archives, Libraries & Collections Association) conference, held at Rochester Cathedral on June 7th. As well as giving an overview of the importance of this legal encyclopaedia, Dr Monk digs into some of its details, taking a closer look at the way thieves were punished in early medieval England. King Athelstan's treatment of young offenders is chilling! New Exhibition at Rochester Cathedral  Blessed ones, The other Monk of this website, Dr Christopher Monk, asked me to pass on some information about a new exhibition he has been working on. Well, I know he's been very industrious this last couple of months, so I said yes. One has to be gracious.  The Rochester Bible. British Library, Royal MS 1 C VII, folio 55v, detail. Rochester Cathedral has opened its crypt exhibition space to three British Library Manuscripts: the Rochester Bestiary, the Rochester Bible, and Elizabeth Elstob's 18th-century copy of excerpt from the 12th-century Textus Roffensis. The manuscripts are in the exhibition until the end of October 2023. Entitled 'Beauty and the Beasts', the exhibition explores its theme broadly, not only presenting the visitor with the beautiful illustrations of beasts from the three manuscripts, but also presenting material about the importance of beasts – domestic farm animals, in particular – to the lives of the monks that lived in the medieval cathedral priory at the time when the very manuscripts they were producing (from animal skins) were being prepared and crafted. My role as the primary consultant was to write both hard copy for the physical exhibition and online material for 'Learn More' activities. You can find my commentary on the Rochester Bible and Elstob's excerpts, along with that of other contributors on the Beauty and the Beasts web pages. For information relating to the importance of domestic animals in the history of Rochester Priory, head to the Farming and Food pages.
The Medieval Monk casts his eye over the new translation of King Æthelstan's laws Æthelstan’s Grately Code. It begins with the title ‘Æþelstanes gerænesse’, ‘Æthelstan’s laws’, in red ink at the bottom of the left page (see detail below). Textus Roffensis, folios 32v-33r, Dean and Chapter of Rochester Cathedral. The Grately Code continues for a further eight pages, as far as folio 37r. Screenshot of digital facsimile, Manchester, John Rylands Library.  Blessed ones, I bring you a bounteous supply of Old English laws. What more could you ask for? Don't answer. The other Monk of this website, Dr Christopher Monk, has been busy transcribing and translating more material from Textus Roffensis, the fullest set of early medieval English laws written in the vernacular. There are three new translations, the main one being the major set of laws by King Æthelstan, 'king of the Anglo-Saxons and Danes', 924/925-927, and 'king of the English, 927-939. This text is known today as the Grately Code. The other two laws, produced around the same time as the Grately Code, are anonymous and much shorter: Be blaserum ⁊ be morðslihtum, which is all about dealing with nasty arsonists and murders; and Forfang, a fragment from a law concerning the reward for retrieving stolen property. Now Dr Monk, in his introduction to the Grately Code, highlights a couple of important aspects of Æthelstan's foundational law. He talks about trial by ordeal and the phrase 'disobedience to the king'. Yes, yes, all very good. But to my mind there are two really important laws that seemed to have escaped his notice. So read on, beloved ones. Selling horses No person may sell any horse overseas, unless he wishes to gift it. (Grately Code) Now, let me tell you a story. Our tenth-century 'king of the English' didn't mind accepting a gift horse, or even ‘many’ a gift horse, from over the gannets' bath, or whale road, or whatever you want to call the sea. Indeed, according to William of Malmesbury, writing in the 1120s, Hugh the Great, ‘king of the Franks’ – well, actually, he was a duke, Willy – wanted to wed Æthelstan’s half-sister, Eadhild. So to seal the deal with this princess, ‘in whom the whole mass of beauty, of which other women have only a share, had flowed into one by nature’ – you can see Willy Malmesbury setting things up here very nicely, can’t you? – Hugh sent an embassy across the swan road to the king to strike a bargain for the betrothal, not troubling himself in person, of course. Well, Willy tells us his delegation ‘produced gifts on a truly munificent scale, such as might instantly satisfy the desires of a recipient however greedy’ – what’s he saying about our good king? Well, anyway, what did Æthelstan get in return for handing over his beloved, all-too-beautiful sister? ... the fragrance of spices that had never before been seen in England; noble jewels (emeralds especially, from whose green depths reflected sunlight lit up the eyes of the bystanders with their enchanting radiance); many swift horses with their trappings, ‘champing between their teeth’, as Virgil says, ‘the tawny gold’; an onyx vessel so modelled by the engraver with his subtle art that one seemed to see real ripples in the standing grain, buds really swelling on the vines, men’s figures really moving, shining with such a polish that it reflected the face of the beholder like a mirror; the sword of Constantine the Great, etc, etc, etc, etc.’ And I thought I went on some times! But if you're desperate to know what else was given... There was one of the nails of the cruxifiction, attached to the pommel of Constantine's sword; Charlemagne's lance; the banner of Maurice the martyr; a piece of the Cross enclosed in crystal; a bit of the crown of thorns; and a solid gold crown which was 'yet more precious from its gems, of which the brilliance shot such flashing darts of light at the beholders that the more anyone strove to strain his eyes, the more he was dazzled and obliged to give up'! Oh, for Heaven's sake, Willy! We get it! Dazzling stuff. Thankfully, Willy does eventually tell us that King Æthelstan was delighted with his gifts – though the horses did make a mess in his court, though no one noticed because of all the dazzling going on (I made that bit up). In response, the king reciprocated ‘with gifts that were scarcely less’ – of course he did. And, moreover, he ‘comforted the passionate suitor’ – so passionate he couldn’t bear the journey himself – ‘with the hand of his sister’. Aw, lovely. So, there you go. Gifting and receiving gifts of horses was fine. But no horse trading overseas. Why exactly, we are not told in the Grately Code. Possibly it was something to do with the importance of horses to the internal economy of England; or it was that horses were in short supply and needed by the army (Cronenwett, p. 109). Sunday tradingAnd [we declared] that there be no trading on Sunday. If then anyone does this, he should forfeit the goods, and pay 30 shillings as a fine. (Grately Code) Now, there are the crimes of arson, murder by witchcraft, and treachery to one’s lord, but Sunday trading! Well, that really takes the biscuit, as the other Monk would put it. I do hope his biscuits weren’t bought on the Sabbath day. He didn't say. You see, what could be more unchristian than labouring – nay, trading – on the Lord’s day? Never mind treachery to one’s earthly lords, I think that such behaviour amounts to far worse. And if I had written the Grately Code for Æthelstan, I would have sent all offenders straight to the threefold ordeal (you can learn more about that from Dr Monk’s introduction). That’s all I have to say on the matter. Now, where did he put those biscuits? Chocolate, gluten free, they were. Cited works Cronenwett, Philip Nathaniel, 'Basileos Anglorum: a study of the life and reign of King Athelstan of England, 924-939' (Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Massachusetts Amherst, 1974); available here. William of Malmesbury, The Deeds of the English Kings, edited and translated by R. A. B. Mynors (London: The Folio Society, 2014).
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