See Bayeux Tapestry Without A Ticket

The hottest event of this very hot summer seems to be the arrival of the Bayeux Tapestry at The British Museum with record breaking ticket sales and feverish interest. It is the fastest selling and most popular exhibit in the museum's history.

It has been marketed as the first, and perhaps only, chance for the British public to truly engage with the tapestry on British soil.

But if you live in or near Reading there is a simple irony to this frenzy since the frieze telling the epic story of William the Conqueror and the ill-fated Harold Godwinson has not been inaccessible at all. In fact, an exquisite, full-scale replica of this medieval masterpiece has been residing in the Reading Museum for over a century, quietly telling the same tale of conquest, betrayal, and destiny to anyone who walks through its doors.

The fascination with the Bayeux Tapestry is not surprising; the 230-foot-long work is the medieval equivalent of a blockbuster movie - a graphic depiction from the 11th century telling the story of the most seminal moment in the making of England. But how did a full copy end up in the Reading Museum ?

Well, this is the story of a remarkable woman who made it possible for us to study this global treasure without ever jumping on a train and queue, let alone cross the channel.

The Origin Of The Bayeux Tapestry

To understand why both the original in Bayeux and the replica in Reading carry such immense weight, you must first revisit the events of 1066. The original tapestry, a masterpiece of Romanesque art, was probably commissioned by Bishop Odo of Bayeux, the half-brother of William the Conqueror. It served as a brilliant piece of propaganda, designed to legitimize William’s claim to the English throne and tell the story of the Battle of Hastings from the Norman perspective. To the conqueror the spoils and in the middle ages this was the equivalent of a media or social influencer campaign.

Bishop Odo needed to justify the invasion of England to the Pope and to his own Norman constituency. The scenes of Harold Godwinson’s oath-taking on holy relics are pivotal in this regard. By depicting Harold swearing fealty to William, the tapestry turns the English king into a perjurer, thereby framing William’s invasion not as an act of aggression, but as a righteous crusade to enforce an oath and restore order.

The embroidery itself depicts the complex political web that led to the death of Edward the Confessor, the election of Harold Godwinson, and the subsequent invasion of England from the eyes of the conquerors.

Technically, the tapestry is a set of embroidered linen strips, stitched with woollen threads in ten different colors. The artists - likely English needlewomen working under Norman supervision - used a variety of stitches, including stem stitch and laid-and-couched work, to create depth and movement. It is a work of immense ambition, documenting not just the violence of the battlefield, but the logistics of the invasion: the building of ships, the felling of trees, the preparation of a feast, and the crushing defeat of the English army. Every time one looks at the original, new details emerge - the expressions of the horses, the armor of the soldiers, and the subtle, often ignored borders filled with Aesop-like fables and mythical beasts that provide a commentary on the main event.

Frankly, like a good movie or book, it is a narrative you can return to time and again, learning something new on each occasion.

The Reading Replica

While the original has survived fires, threats of destruction by Napoleon, and the chaos of the French Revolution. Since 1983 it has been on display at a former seminary Musée de la Tapisserie de Bayeux (Centre Guillaume le Conquérant in the town of Bayeux in Normandy. The tapestry spent roughly the first seven centuries of its life primarily stored in the treasury of Bayeux Cathedral. Historically, it was taken out and hung inside the cathedral annually for a single week to celebrate the Feast of St. John the Baptist. During the French Revolution, it was seized as public property. It narrowly escaped being cut up to cover military wagons and was later taken to Paris in 1803 to be displayed at the Musée Napoléon as propaganda for Napoleon's planned invasion of Britain. After Napoleon abandoned his invasion plans, the tapestry was returned to Bayeux, where local officials eventually put it on display in a special room at the public library starting around 1842. During the Second World War, fearing wartime destruction and foreign confiscation during the German occupation of France, the tapestry was moved to multiple secret underground locations and bunkers for safekeeping. In the final days of the occupation in 1944, it was temporarily seized by Nazi authorities and taken to the Louvre in Paris. After Paris was liberated, it was briefly exhibited at the Louvre before being safely returned home to Bayeux in 1945.

The 'Reading Copy'

In 1885 Elizabeth Wardle, a talented embroiderer and the wife of a silk dyer from Leek in Staffordshire, decided that the people of Britain deserved to see the tapestry in England. She was an advocate for the art of needlework, believing that it was a serious craft that deserved preservation and study. Wardle did something truly audacious: she mobilized a group of thirty-five local women from the Leek Embroidery Society to recreate the tapestry in its entirety.

This was not a task for the faint of heart. These women spent over a year meticulously copying every stitch, every color, and every nuance of the original. They visited Bayeux, they measured, they traced, and they stitched. 

To appreciate the magnitude of what the Leek Embroidery Society achieved, one must dive deeper into the technical demands of the tapestry. The original Bayeux Tapestry is an embroidery, not a woven tapestry in the modern sense. This distinction is crucial. It requires thousands of hours of work, with each section presenting unique challenges—from the intricate patterns of the chainmail to the expressive, often grotesque faces of the combatants. The needlewomen in Bayeux likely worked on eight separate panels of linen, which were later joined together. This modular approach is something that Elizabeth Wardle and her team had to replicate perfectly to maintain the scale and narrative integrity of the piece.

In the Reading replica, the attention to detail is staggering. The team at Leek did not merely guess the patterns; they studied the original with a level of scrutiny that would satisfy a modern forensic historian. They replicated the 'outline stitch' that defines the figures and the 'laid-and-couched' work that provides the textured fill.

The resulting replica is a testament to the Victorian dedication and craftwork. It's a fitting homage to the anonymous needlewomen who created the original work almost eight centuries prior. When the work was completed in 1886, it began touring the country. It was first shown at the Nicholson Institute in Leek in June 1886, then travelled around British towns and cities for roughly ten years, including trips to Germany and America. The point of the touring was commercial - the Leek Embroidery Society was trying to recoup what it had put into the project by charging admission.  But takings never came close to matching the labour involved, and no permanent home turned up. However, somewhat ironically, at a time when the original was barely known outside Normandy, the Leek copy is what put the tapestry on the international map.

The tour reached Reading Town Hall in June 1895, and Hill, by then an alderman, offered to buy it and give it to the borough. Elizabeth Wardle had reservations about it leaving Leek, but the Society voted to accept £300 for the embroidery, its viewing supports, and a stock of printed guides. It became one of the first exhibits in the museum’s new Art Gallery in 1897, and was taken to Windsor Castle so Queen Victoria could see it after Reading acquired it.

Arthur Hill (1829–1909) was a banker’s son who worked as a railway constructor before moving to Reading and taking over a coal-dealing business. He became a councillor in 1879 and served as mayor from 1883 to 1887, paying for public concerts out of his own pocket. On retiring from public life in 1907 he was given the Freedom of the Borough. He also modernised the town’s public finances and sewerage, founded its first children’s library, and was an early backer of Reading University College. He was also half-brother to Octavia Hill, the social reformer and co-founder of the National Trust.

Comparing The Embroideries

One might assume that a copy is just a copy, but when comparing the Reading replica to the original in Bayeux, the nuances are fascinating. While the Reading version is famously accurate in scale and color, it bears the hallmarks of its Victorian creators. The materials used in 1885 differ slightly from the 11th-century originals, as you would expect. The wools have aged differently, and the linen, while high quality, possesses the texture of a late 19th-century weave rather than the medieval weave of the original. There are also subtle differences in the 'hand' of the work. The Leek embroiderers, while incredibly skilled, brought their own Victorian sensibilities to the execution of the faces and the flow of the garments.

Historians often point out that the Reading replica acts as a time capsule not just of 1066, but of 1885. It captures the way in which the Victorians viewed the Middle Ages—with a mixture of reverence, romanticism, and intense scholarly precision. Interestingly, some details in the Reading copy are actually easier to see than in the original. Because it has not been subjected to the same centuries of environmental stress as the original, the colors in the Reading replica, while faded, maintain a consistent clarity that allows the narrative flow of the scenes to be traced easier than on the original. It still remains a primary reference point for researchers who wish to understand the physical construction of the tapestry without the protective casing that currently houses the original.

The Narrative

Both the original and the Reading copy follow the same epic progression. The story begins with Harold Godwinson’s fateful trip to Normandy, an event that sets the tragedy in motion. Through the scenes of the voyage, the oath-taking, and the return to England, the viewer is drawn into a narrative of inevitability. One of the most gripping aspects of both tapestries is the depiction of the English and Norman camps. You can see the preparations for war: the smithies working at full tilt, the mail coats being hauled onto ships, and the tense meetings between the men who would determine the fate of nations.

Then, the focus shifts to the battle itself. The depiction of the Battle of Hastings is, for many, the highlight of the work. The chaos of combat, the archers letting fly their arrows, and the legendary moment of Harold’s death—whether by an arrow to the eye or the sword of a knight—are all rendered with a visceral intensity that transcends language. The border scenes, which continue throughout, include depictions of dead soldiers and horses, adding a grim sense of reality to the spectacle. These stories are not just about the victory of William; they are about the cost of power, the fragility of kingship, and the way in which history is ultimately a construct shaped by those who hold the needle.

Reading Museum

Our local museum serves as a vital reminder that local institutions hold treasures of national significance. The replica is displayed in a way that allows the viewer to walk alongside it, matching the experience of the original’s intended display in a cathedral nave. There is no urgency of a ticketed time slot; there time to study, contemplate and understand that is not possible in the rather frenzied surroundings of the British Museum. The fact that the Reading Museum has been host to this replica for well over a century is a testament to the foresight of those who realised that local stewardship is as important as national curation.

Over the last thousand years, the original tapestry has led a life of adventure. It has been lost, stolen, and hidden during times of conflict. During the Second World War, it was stored in the cellars of the Louvre and later under the control of the SS, who were reportedly interested in its propaganda value. In contrast, the Reading replica has had a much quieter, yet equally significant journey. Its arrival in Reading in the late 19th century coincided with the rise of the Arts and Crafts movement, which championed traditional skills like embroidery. The tapestry became a centrepiece of local cultural pride.

There is a wonderful story about a visitor in the early 20th century who was so moved by the Reading replica that they insisted it was the 'true' original that had been smuggled out of France. While this is, of course, historically inaccurate, it speaks to the quality of the work created by Elizabeth Wardle and her team. They didn't just copy the stitches; they captured the spirit. 

Wardle's contribution to English heritage is often overlooked in favor of the 'great men' of history, but she was a pioneer. By organising the Leek Embroidery Society to undertake this project, she was making a statement about the capability of women and the importance of preserving historical narratives through craft. Her vision ensured that when the original was under threat or simply too distant for the average Briton to visit, the story of 1066 remained a part of the English identity.

Today, in our digital era, the physical presence of the tapestry serves as an anchor. It reminds us that once, everything was made by hand, slowly, and with great intention.