A new study offers a fresh way of thinking about one of the most famous works of medieval art by asking a deceptively simple question: where was the Bayeux Tapestry originally meant to be seen? Rather than assuming it was designed for display in a cathedral or a secular hall, the research suggests that the famous embroidery may instead have been created for a monastic refectory, where it could be viewed and interpreted during communal meals.
In an article published in Historical Research, Benjamin Pohl, Professor of Medieval History at the University of Bristol, examines a range of possible display contexts for the Bayeux Tapestry and argues that the walls of the refectory at St Augustine’s Abbey in Canterbury offer one of the most convincing settings for understanding how the artefact was meant to function.
Moving Beyond the Cathedral
The Bayeux Tapestry is a unique piece of medieval embroidery measuring around 68 metres in length and weighing approximately 350 kilograms. It famously depicts the events leading up to and including the Norman Conquest of England in 1066, when William of Normandy defeated King Harold II at the Battle of Hastings. Despite its fame, however, fundamental questions remain unresolved, including where the tapestry was originally displayed and how medieval viewers engaged with it.
For much of the twentieth century, scholars tended to assume that the Bayeux Tapestry was designed for Bayeux Cathedral, largely because it is first securely recorded there in an inventory dating from 1476 and because of the prominent role played in the embroidery by Odo, bishop of Bayeux and earl of Kent. More recent attempts to support this theory have focused on matching the tapestry’s length to reconstructions of the cathedral’s eleventh-century nave.
Pohl challenges this assumption by drawing attention to the practical and visual difficulties involved in hanging such a large and heavy textile in a Romanesque cathedral. Norman naves were broken up by arcades and columns, offering few long, continuous wall surfaces. Suspending the tapestry high above the floor would have made its fine details and inscriptions difficult, if not impossible, to read.
A Canterbury Context
There are no actual architectural remains of St. Augustine’s Norman refectory, but this photo shows the area where it would have once stood – Wikimedia Commons
Most scholars now agree that the Bayeux Tapestry was probably designed in Canterbury in the 1080s, at St Augustine’s Abbey, during the tenure of its first post-Conquest abbot, Scolland. A Norman monk formerly of Mont Saint-Michel, Scolland presided over an ambitious rebuilding programme and oversaw one of the most important monastic centres of learning and manuscript production in England.
While there is broad consensus that Odo of Bayeux was involved in the tapestry’s production in some capacity, opinions differ as to whether he acted as patron, commissioner, or sponsor. Pohl situates the embroidery within a wider monastic framework, emphasising that projects of this scale required abbatial authorisation, institutional resources, and collective labour. In this context, the tapestry appears less as a piece of aristocratic propaganda and more as a work shaped by monastic habits of historical thinking.
Why the Refectory?
If the Bayeux Tapestry originated in a monastic environment, Pohl asks where within the monastery it would have been most plausibly displayed. He argues that the refectory, or dining hall, offers a particularly strong candidate.
In Benedictine monasteries, meals were taken in silence while a designated reader read aloud from religious, historical, or moral texts. These readings were not purely functional but formed part of a broader culture of reflection and instruction. Across medieval Europe, refectories were often decorated with wall paintings or textile hangings that visually reinforced the narratives being read aloud.
Architecturally, refectories were also well suited to the display of large textiles. Unlike cathedral naves, they typically featured long, uninterrupted walls at eye level. The Norman refectory at St Augustine’s Abbey, built in the early twelfth century along the northern range of the cloister, offered enough continuous wall space to accommodate the Bayeux Tapestry, even allowing for the possibility that the embroidery was originally longer than it is today.
Comparable evidence survives elsewhere. The Norman refectory at Dover Priory, which remains largely intact, once featured a large mural of the Last Supper covering its eastern wall. Continental examples from places such as St Gall and Fulda show how text, image, and oral reading were combined in refectory settings to create immersive historical and moral experiences.
Reading the Tapestry Up Close
One of the most striking features of the Bayeux Tapestry is its extensive use of Latin inscriptions, or tituli, which identify figures, locations, and actions. These inscriptions are not decorative additions but an integral part of the narrative, frequently using demonstrative words such as hic (“here”) and ubi (“where”) to guide the viewer’s attention.
Pohl argues that these inscriptions only make full sense if the tapestry was meant to be viewed at close range. In a refectory, where the embroidery could be hung at or slightly above head height, monks and guests seated at the tables would have been able to follow both the images and the text while listening to a reader. This context also helps explain why the tapestry assumes a viewer with at least basic Latin literacy.
The refectory setting may also shed light on the tapestry’s tone. Rather than presenting a straightforward Norman triumphalist account, the embroidery offers a complex and sometimes ambiguous narrative. This ambiguity, Pohl suggests, is consistent with monastic approaches to history, which treated past events as sources of moral reflection rather than simple celebration.
What Can and Cannot Be Proven
Professor Benjamin Pohl. Image credit: Fox and Beau Photography
Pohl is careful to stress the limits of the evidence. As he notes, “The truth is: we simply do not know where the Bayeux Tapestry was hung – or indeed if it was hung anywhere at all – prior to 1476. My article offers a new explanation by arguing that the most suitable place for displaying and engaging with the Bayeux Tapestry would have been in the monastic refectory of St Augustine’s during mealtimes.”
He also acknowledges that there is no direct proof that the tapestry was ever displayed at St Augustine’s. “To be clear: we have no concrete evidence of the Bayeux Tapestry’s presence at St Augustine’s,” he explains, “though this may well be due a combination of circumstances which meant that the abbey’s new refectory designed in the 1080s – perhaps specifically to exhibit the Tapestry – was not completed until the 1120s. Consequently, the Tapestry might have been put in storage for more than a generation and forgotten about until it eventually found its way to Bayeux three centuries later.”
Nevertheless, Pohl argues that a monastic setting helps resolve several long-standing issues in the scholarship. As he puts it, “Many, and perhaps all, of these conflicts and contradictions can be resolved by embracing the refectory setting proposed in my new article.”
A Plausible Medieval Viewing Space
Rather than presenting a definitive answer, the study reframes the debate by asking which medieval spaces best fit the Bayeux Tapestry’s physical, textual, and narrative characteristics. In doing so, it shifts attention away from cathedral naves and towards a setting deeply embedded in monastic daily life.
“Just as today, in the Middle Ages mealtimes were always an important occasion for social gathering, collective reflection, hospitality and entertainment, and the celebration of communal identities,” Pohl notes. “In this context, the Bayeux Tapestry would have found a perfect setting.”
By situating the tapestry within the lived rhythms of monastic culture, the article invites a reassessment of how medieval audiences may have encountered one of the Middle Ages’ most famous works—not as distant spectators in a vast church, but as attentive viewers, seated in silence, engaging with history over a shared meal.
The article, “Chewing over the Norman Conquest: the Bayeux Tapestry as monastic mealtime reading,” by Benjamin Pohl, appears in Historical Research. Click here to read it.
A new study offers a fresh way of thinking about one of the most famous works of medieval art by asking a deceptively simple question: where was the Bayeux Tapestry originally meant to be seen? Rather than assuming it was designed for display in a cathedral or a secular hall, the research suggests that the famous embroidery may instead have been created for a monastic refectory, where it could be viewed and interpreted during communal meals.
In an article published in Historical Research, Benjamin Pohl, Professor of Medieval History at the University of Bristol, examines a range of possible display contexts for the Bayeux Tapestry and argues that the walls of the refectory at St Augustine’s Abbey in Canterbury offer one of the most convincing settings for understanding how the artefact was meant to function.
Moving Beyond the Cathedral
The Bayeux Tapestry is a unique piece of medieval embroidery measuring around 68 metres in length and weighing approximately 350 kilograms. It famously depicts the events leading up to and including the Norman Conquest of England in 1066, when William of Normandy defeated King Harold II at the Battle of Hastings. Despite its fame, however, fundamental questions remain unresolved, including where the tapestry was originally displayed and how medieval viewers engaged with it.
For much of the twentieth century, scholars tended to assume that the Bayeux Tapestry was designed for Bayeux Cathedral, largely because it is first securely recorded there in an inventory dating from 1476 and because of the prominent role played in the embroidery by Odo, bishop of Bayeux and earl of Kent. More recent attempts to support this theory have focused on matching the tapestry’s length to reconstructions of the cathedral’s eleventh-century nave.
Pohl challenges this assumption by drawing attention to the practical and visual difficulties involved in hanging such a large and heavy textile in a Romanesque cathedral. Norman naves were broken up by arcades and columns, offering few long, continuous wall surfaces. Suspending the tapestry high above the floor would have made its fine details and inscriptions difficult, if not impossible, to read.
A Canterbury Context
Most scholars now agree that the Bayeux Tapestry was probably designed in Canterbury in the 1080s, at St Augustine’s Abbey, during the tenure of its first post-Conquest abbot, Scolland. A Norman monk formerly of Mont Saint-Michel, Scolland presided over an ambitious rebuilding programme and oversaw one of the most important monastic centres of learning and manuscript production in England.
While there is broad consensus that Odo of Bayeux was involved in the tapestry’s production in some capacity, opinions differ as to whether he acted as patron, commissioner, or sponsor. Pohl situates the embroidery within a wider monastic framework, emphasising that projects of this scale required abbatial authorisation, institutional resources, and collective labour. In this context, the tapestry appears less as a piece of aristocratic propaganda and more as a work shaped by monastic habits of historical thinking.
Why the Refectory?
If the Bayeux Tapestry originated in a monastic environment, Pohl asks where within the monastery it would have been most plausibly displayed. He argues that the refectory, or dining hall, offers a particularly strong candidate.
In Benedictine monasteries, meals were taken in silence while a designated reader read aloud from religious, historical, or moral texts. These readings were not purely functional but formed part of a broader culture of reflection and instruction. Across medieval Europe, refectories were often decorated with wall paintings or textile hangings that visually reinforced the narratives being read aloud.
Architecturally, refectories were also well suited to the display of large textiles. Unlike cathedral naves, they typically featured long, uninterrupted walls at eye level. The Norman refectory at St Augustine’s Abbey, built in the early twelfth century along the northern range of the cloister, offered enough continuous wall space to accommodate the Bayeux Tapestry, even allowing for the possibility that the embroidery was originally longer than it is today.
Comparable evidence survives elsewhere. The Norman refectory at Dover Priory, which remains largely intact, once featured a large mural of the Last Supper covering its eastern wall. Continental examples from places such as St Gall and Fulda show how text, image, and oral reading were combined in refectory settings to create immersive historical and moral experiences.
Reading the Tapestry Up Close
One of the most striking features of the Bayeux Tapestry is its extensive use of Latin inscriptions, or tituli, which identify figures, locations, and actions. These inscriptions are not decorative additions but an integral part of the narrative, frequently using demonstrative words such as hic (“here”) and ubi (“where”) to guide the viewer’s attention.
Pohl argues that these inscriptions only make full sense if the tapestry was meant to be viewed at close range. In a refectory, where the embroidery could be hung at or slightly above head height, monks and guests seated at the tables would have been able to follow both the images and the text while listening to a reader. This context also helps explain why the tapestry assumes a viewer with at least basic Latin literacy.
The refectory setting may also shed light on the tapestry’s tone. Rather than presenting a straightforward Norman triumphalist account, the embroidery offers a complex and sometimes ambiguous narrative. This ambiguity, Pohl suggests, is consistent with monastic approaches to history, which treated past events as sources of moral reflection rather than simple celebration.
What Can and Cannot Be Proven
Pohl is careful to stress the limits of the evidence. As he notes, “The truth is: we simply do not know where the Bayeux Tapestry was hung – or indeed if it was hung anywhere at all – prior to 1476. My article offers a new explanation by arguing that the most suitable place for displaying and engaging with the Bayeux Tapestry would have been in the monastic refectory of St Augustine’s during mealtimes.”
He also acknowledges that there is no direct proof that the tapestry was ever displayed at St Augustine’s. “To be clear: we have no concrete evidence of the Bayeux Tapestry’s presence at St Augustine’s,” he explains, “though this may well be due a combination of circumstances which meant that the abbey’s new refectory designed in the 1080s – perhaps specifically to exhibit the Tapestry – was not completed until the 1120s. Consequently, the Tapestry might have been put in storage for more than a generation and forgotten about until it eventually found its way to Bayeux three centuries later.”
Nevertheless, Pohl argues that a monastic setting helps resolve several long-standing issues in the scholarship. As he puts it, “Many, and perhaps all, of these conflicts and contradictions can be resolved by embracing the refectory setting proposed in my new article.”
A Plausible Medieval Viewing Space
Rather than presenting a definitive answer, the study reframes the debate by asking which medieval spaces best fit the Bayeux Tapestry’s physical, textual, and narrative characteristics. In doing so, it shifts attention away from cathedral naves and towards a setting deeply embedded in monastic daily life.
“Just as today, in the Middle Ages mealtimes were always an important occasion for social gathering, collective reflection, hospitality and entertainment, and the celebration of communal identities,” Pohl notes. “In this context, the Bayeux Tapestry would have found a perfect setting.”
By situating the tapestry within the lived rhythms of monastic culture, the article invites a reassessment of how medieval audiences may have encountered one of the Middle Ages’ most famous works—not as distant spectators in a vast church, but as attentive viewers, seated in silence, engaging with history over a shared meal.
The article, “Chewing over the Norman Conquest: the Bayeux Tapestry as monastic mealtime reading,” by Benjamin Pohl, appears in Historical Research. Click here to read it.
See also 10 Little Details in the Bayeux Tapestry You May Have Missed
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