Politically embarrassing to politically powerful: how the Bayeux Tapestry became a tool of diplomacy

The Bayeux Tapestry was created to justify William the Conqueror’s invasion of England – but its political message may have been outdated almost as soon as it was finished. As the embroidery goes on display at the British Museum, David Musgrove examines its new role in Anglo-French diplomacy

Andy Burnham and Emmanuel Macron are pictured in front of an enlarged image of the Bayeux Tapestry. Burnham looks towards the smiling French president, while a scene from the medieval embroidery fills the background.

Published: September 8, 2026 at 5:07 PM

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Britain’s new prime minister Andy Burnham made a droll observation at the British Museum, during the speeches to commemorate the visit of King Charles III and President Emmanuel Macron to the Bayeux Tapestry exhibition on Wednesday 2 September. But it didn’t really make sense.

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He talked about how the Tapestry shows “a new leader emerging from a northern territory travelling to the south of England in search of the crown. Clearly something that couldn’t happen today”.

Obviously, he was drawing a knowingly self-deprecating comparison to his own recent journey to power, though I’m not sure who he was actually comparing himself to. Presumably he was thinking of William the Conqueror, though Normandy is to the south of England, so the northern territory he’s thinking of is, I guess, an acknowledgment of the Scandinavian origins of the Normans (the foundation story of Normandy, of course, goes back to the year 911 and Rollo, a Norse warlord, being granted the duchy from the king of France). If that’s the case, our new prime minister is well-informed about northern European early medieval history, so that’s great to hear.

However, what he overlooked was the fact that the Tapestry pointedly omits an actual northern leader invading in 1066, but failing in his bid to secure the crown. The Norwegian king Harald Hardrada led a force into Yorkshire, along with Tostig, the disaffected brother of England’s King Harold.

Hardrada won one battle against the Anglo-Saxons, at Fulford, but then was soundly defeated in a second clash, at Stamford Bridge, by King Harold himself. Both Hardrada and Tostig died on the field, along with a huge number of their men, so much so that the river ran red with their blood. Neither Fulford nor Stamford Bridge is shown in the embroidery.

A very selective history

We tend to think that the Bayeux Tapestry gives a full account of the events of 1066. It is, after all, almost 70 metres long, so has ample space to cover the details. However, that’s clearly not the case, as its exclusion of these two northern battles shows. That is because it’s designed with a very specific political purpose in mind – namely to offer a justification for William’s invasion of England.

The Tapestry sets up the story of 1066 as a binary clash between Harold and William, with Harold perjuring himself after making a sacred oath to support William’s claim to the throne, and thus giving William the reason he needed to launch his invasion fleet. Including any other possible contenders to the throne, such as Hardrada or indeed Edgar Ætheling (the closest blood relative to the previous king, Edward the Confessor), would have muddied the picture that the Tapestry was presenting.

King Charles III, Emmanuel Macron and Andy Burnham examine the Bayeux Tapestry displayed in a glass case. The three men stand alongside the medieval embroidery, with the King leaning forward to inspect its scenes.

Andy Burnham, Emmanuel Macron and King Charles III attend a preview of the British Museum’s Bayeux Tapestry exhibition on 2 September 2026. All three men spoke of the close ties between the UK and France in speeches to the media | Credit: Getty Images

So it’s always had this political dimension, and clearly the current story of the loan has a political dimension too. President Macron has been the driving force behind making it happen. It required, in his words, a “willing suspension of disbelief” to get it done, in the face of substantial concern about the wisdom of allowing such a venerable and fragile artefact to travel across the Channel.

It’s fascinating, then, to see current politics play out with the Tapestry as the backdrop. The loan is part of a coming-together of Anglo-French relations in the aftermath of Brexit, and an effort to salve the wounds after the bitter recriminations it produced on both sides of the Channel.

Bringing enemies together

Would the original Tapestry designers have imagined it might have brought people in Britain and France together almost a millennium after they made it? I doubt it, but there is a theory that the embroidery’s original intent was to allow a space for both the vanquished and the victors of 1066 to come together and find common ground after the battle. It might have been part of an effort by Duke William and one of his leading lords, Odo of Bayeux (William’s half-brother and the most likely candidate to have been the Tapestry’s patron), to get the Anglo-Saxons on side in the new Norman regime.

The deliberate vagueness of the Tapestry’s narrative – and its very terse Latin captions – allows for multiple interpretations of the same scenes, depending on how the viewer wants to see what’s shown. England’s Harold gets a pretty positive portrayal in the first half of the Tapestry, at least (before he makes his fateful oath), so there is a world in which you can imagine military men from both sides of the conflict assembling inside some Norman keep to look at the Tapestry and reflect together on what they’ve been through, but with space for all to remember what happened slightly differently.

A scene from the Bayeux Tapestry shows Harold Godwinson seated on a throne after being crowned king of England in 1066. Archbishop Stigand stands beside him, while figures to the left acclaim the new king.

A scene from the Bayeux Tapestry depicts Harold being enthroned as king – an act that, according to the Norman version of events, broke an oath he had previously sworn supporting William’s claim to the English throne | Credit: Bayeux Museum

If Brexit has taught us anything, it’s that you need to fudge things to get through challenging and complex relationships, and the Tapestry offers a masterclass in fudgery. How else could people move on from the massive social dislocation that resulted from Hastings, if not by skirting around some of the issues and allowing recollections to vary of what had just happened?

Past its sell-by date

There was only a brief window of time in which William was interested in bringing together the defeated and the winners. It probably wasn’t long before he had become less interested in justifying why he was right to depose Harold, and more interested in dealing with the aftermath of his actions.

The Norman Conquest was not a one-and-done thing (even though the Bayeux Tapestry might have us believe that), and there were numerous rebellions against Norman rule by the restless Anglo-Saxons. After a brief period of trying to accommodate and understand, by the end of the 1060s, William was laying down a very heavy hand on his new subjects. The Harrying of the North was the ultimate response, and the campaign of destruction wrought on northern England in 1069 and 1070 left the area devastated for years.

So it’s quite possible that the Tapestry was politically obsolete as soon as it was finished. We don’t know how long it took to make, but if we consider that the Ladies of the Leek Embroidery Society spent a year or so on their replica version in the 1880s (and they had a design to work off and weren’t operating in a war-torn environment), then it surely can’t have been any faster for the original embroiderers.

That replica is now on show in Reading Museum, and is worth a visit if you can’t get to the British Museum (or do both in a day with a quick trip along the Elizabeth Line). If the stitching work started as early as 1067, by the time it was finished, the situation on the ground might well have moved on markedly, and perhaps the Tapestry was politically redundant as the last panels were being embroidered.

A conservator wearing protective gloves works on the Bayeux Tapestry as it is suspended from a metal frame. Scenes from the medieval embroidery, including figures and ships, are visible beneath her.

A worker helps prepare the Bayeux Tapestry for its transfer to the British Museum in September 2025. Concerns were raised that removing the embroidery from Bayeux risked damaging the historic artefact | Credit: Getty Images

That might explain why the Tapestry has survived today. Maybe it was just quietly put in a chest and forgotten about, because it wasn’t hitting the right vibe in the fast-moving world of Anglo-Norman relations. It could have been quietly shipped off to Bayeux straight away, put in the corner of some quiet room, and largely forgotten about for the next few centuries.

I was asked to commentate for BBC News and Sky on the visit of King Charles and President Macron as they toured the Tapestry. I’ve never tried my hand at punditry, but it was fascinating to listen in on the chat that the two heads of state had as they walked down the line.

The king cracked a gag about the French bringing wine with them on their invasion fleet, and the president nodded appreciatively. I did wonder whether this would have been the sort of chat expected from Anglo-Saxon earls and Norman lords in the 1060s, too, as they studied the embroidery.

But if this sort of bonhomie was intended in the 11th century, perhaps it never happened if the Tapestry was indeed past its sell-by date as soon as it was finished. I was a little disappointed that none of the dignitaries seemed to make reference to the graphic sex scenes in the Tapestry, as I’m sure that the post-Hastings viewers would have acknowledged the various nude vignettes.

Anyway, in the speeches after the tour, much was made by both sides of how the Tapestry is a symbol of the long and durable Anglo-French relationship. It undoubtedly is that, so it was fascinating to think about how the original conflict story might have been designed to encourage comradeship too – but a comradeship that didn’t come to pass.

Macron’s masterstroke

President Macron is clearly a wily political operator. He’s been in place in the Élysée Palace for the entire story of the Bayeux Tapestry loan. He announced it back in 2018, and he’s outlived a succession of British prime ministers. He’s rightly recognised that the Tapestry means a lot more to us here in the UK than it does to much of France.

I’ve been asked by a few perplexed French journalists to explain why we’re getting so excited about the Tapestry coming here, because if they were asked to pick a key date in their national story, the people of France would, I’m sure, plump for 1789 over 1066. William of Normandy is a peripheral figure in the French historical narrative.

Emmanuel Macron delivers a speech from a lectern promoting the Bayeux Tapestry exhibition, surrounded by French, British and European Union flags. An image from the medieval embroidery appears on the front of the lectern.

President Emmanuel Macron delivers a speech at the British Museum on 2 September 2026. The French leader first announced plans to loan the Bayeux Tapestry to the UK in 2018 | Credit: Getty Images

So Macron has clocked that this means a lot to us, and he’s expended a bit of his own political capital in making the loan happen – the “willing suspension of disbelief” that he talked about is surely code for having to deal with a lot of objections on his side of the Channel. But he’s done it with purpose because he has seen the soft power of this artefact, and the diplomatic win he’s got from it is surely going to give him leverage in moving forward with a more productive Anglo-French relationship.

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So, if the Tapestry’s miraculous survival today is in part due to it being politically embarrassing in the 11th century, it’s all the more interesting that it’s being used as a tool to get over recent political embarrassments in the 21st century. More power to the Tapestry.

Authors

Dr David Musgrove, FSAContent director

David Musgrove is the content director at HistoryExtra

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