The Bayeux Tapestry: Penis or Scabbard?

Dr Monk puts forward the artistic case for male genitalia and its significance to the Tapestry's narrative

Is 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 Tapestry

Our 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 genitals

One 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 stitching

It 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.