For the first time in almost a millennium, the Bayeux Tapestry has crossed the English Channel. On September 10, the British Museum opened an exhibition dedicated to the 70-metre-long medieval embroidery, which was brought to London from the French medieval town of Bayeux after years of negotiations. Created in the 1070s, the work chronicles the Norman conquest of England in 1066—and, nearly 1,000 years later, remains one of the most remarkable visual records of medieval Europe. Tickets for the first months of the exhibition sold out within two days, with a virtual queue reportedly reaching 80,000 people.
The name is slightly misleading. The Bayeux Tapestry is not technically a tapestry but an embroidery: woollen threads stitched onto linen using several different techniques. Ten colours derived from natural dyes were used to create a restrained visual language. Blue-legged horses with yellow or red manes, carefully detailed ships, and recurring images of trees, buildings, and weapons give the narrative a clear visual rhythm, guiding the viewer from one episode to the next. Across its 70 metres are approximately 626 human figures, 41 ships, hundreds of animals, and 58 scenes accompanied by Latin inscriptions. The narrative moves from left to right, closer in structure to a monumental comic strip than to a conventional historical chronicle.
Characters recur throughout the sequence. They mount horses, cross the sea, enter palaces, swear oaths, and fight battles. Events unfold without a single fixed viewpoint or central protagonist. Its visual language still feels strikingly contemporary: centuries before cinema, photography, or the graphic novel, its makers had already found ways to convey movement, repetition, and narrative continuity. The historical information contained in the Bayeux Tapestry is extraordinary. It offers evidence of how 11th-century ships were constructed and how horses were transported across the Channel, how warriors dressed and fought, how fortifications were built, and how food was prepared during military campaigns. Palaces, churches, furniture, clothing, and hairstyles all appear within its frame.
Among the most famous details is the earliest known depiction of Halley’s Comet, which appeared in the sky in the spring of 1066. In the embroidery, several figures look towards it, apparently interpreting the celestial phenomenon as an omen. Elsewhere appears one of the earliest known representations of a harrow, placing the work unexpectedly within the history of agriculture as well. But the embroidery tells more than a story of conquest: it reflects the political order that William, Duke of Normandy, established after defeating Harold II at the Battle of Hastings on October 14, 1066. The traditional account holds that William’s maternal half-brother, Odo of Conteville, Bishop of Bayeux, commissioned the embroidery in the 1070s, possibly for the cathedral then nearing completion in the city. It was likely finished in time for the cathedral’s consecration in 1077. The craftsmen may have come from Canterbury, suggesting that the story of the Norman conquest was, at least in part, embroidered by the defeated.
The embroidery clearly legitimizes William’s conquest, yet it does not reduce the English to passive victims. Both sides are presented as formidable warriors. The Norman victory is celebrated, but the defeated are granted dignity and agency within the visual narrative. Almost 1,000 years later, the question of who made the work—and for whom—remains unresolved. The survival of the Bayeux Tapestry is remarkable in itself. Unlike many medieval treasures, it contains no gold or precious stones and may therefore have attracted less attention from looters. It survived the Huguenot sack of Bayeux and narrowly escaped destruction during the French Revolution, when it was almost cut apart to cover a military wagon. A local lawyer persuaded the soldiers to use ordinary fabric instead.
The embroidery was moved to Bayeux’s town hall in 1812, where it was displayed to visitors. During the German occupation of France in the Second World War, it was transferred to an underground shelter, with its condition monitored regularly. Its political afterlife is almost as complicated as its original subject. The embroidery has continued to acquire new meanings long after the events it depicts. In 1803, as Napoleon prepared for a planned invasion of Britain, it was exhibited at the Louvre, where its account of the successful Norman conquest of England took on a new meaning, although the invasion never happened. More than a century later, during the German occupation of France, Nazi scholars examined the work in search of evidence of Germanic origins in European culture. The same medieval object, which records a particular victory, has been repeatedly drawn into the political narratives of its time, while its own history has been rewritten by those who have possessed it.
The Bayeux Tapestry
September 10, 2026 – July 11, 2027
The British Museum