CSotD: Bayeux Leave
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The current distraction in Britain is that the Bayeux Tapestry is visiting from its home in France. The 11th Century tapestry is 70 meters long and 50 centimeters high, which wouldn’t fit in my livingroom but then it wasn’t designed for peasants. It depicts events leading to the conquest of Britain by William the Conqueror in 1066, though Schrank suggests that the whole business of foreigners showing up on Britain’s shores continues.
Which makes me think that perhaps before every event in England, somebody should stand up and explain that they’re currently occupying land that truly belongs to the Saxons or the Picts or somebody ancient, and that they are ashamed of themselves but sure as hell don’t intend to actually give it back.
Meanwhile, over in Ireland, they’ve found cave paintings down around Dingle that suggest that even the Fir Bolg are going to have to start making those speeches, because now there’s someone else who’s been pushed off their land. The article says the paintings “may indicate that people were there thousands of years before conventional views suggest,” which is funny because Irish history has thus far been immune to any conventional views.
Which reminds me of a time I was writing about the sea captain who founded Hogansburg, the town just outside Akwesasne. I finally found his old house and said to the Mohawk fellow currently living there that I thought there was supposed to be a historic marker.
He responded, “Oh, yeah, there was. They took it out when they widened the road and never put it back.” Pause. “It was a pain to mow around.”
Akwesasne is a unique place in that it’s still somewhat run by the Jay Treaty, which was signed in 1794. The US/Canadian border runs right through Akwesasne, though, if you ask them, no, it doesn’t.
Their insistence on upholding the treaty — militantly when necessary — gives the Kanien’keháka the enviable ability to shrug off those people who showed up on their land back sometime or other.
Anyway, the English or the British or the Sassenachs or whoever they are have this long bit of embroidery to remind them that the Normans not only showed up but took over, and they’re all going to line up and have a look, as well they might because it took a lot of work, and Mac includes one of the few facts in the whole thing that people actually remember, which is that poor old King Harold took an arrow in the eye.
Though at least Harold had a starring role, if not a winning one. Jeremy Banx points out that some people didn’t even get depicted, which suggests the pitiable sight of some guy who fought his best going up and down the 70 meters looking for himself in vain.
But who was he going to complain to, the Venerable Bede?
Anyway, if you’re over there, you may want to go have a look. Even a 960-year-old tapistry can’t last forever, you know.
Obviously, Charlie likes it, because he’s one of those Normans who won and got to take over, more or less. I went and looked it up and it appears to be true, but let’s just say it wasn’t exactly a direct line from William to Charles. Here’s Part One and here’s Part Two, but it seems as much a matter of belief as it is of strict genealogy, given that the two sides contending for the throne in 1066 were already related to each other in the first place.
Which reminds me of a story my grandfather told of working in the mines of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula back in the early days of the 20th century. One night when they were waiting to go down and start their shift, one of the Cornish miners — the Cousin Jacks — remarked that America was great because any boy could be president, while back in the UK, you had to be English.
My grandfather, who taught school until he was old enough to work underground, said, “The king isn’t English. He’s German.” Debate ensued and the mine captain promised to settle things.
He came back the next night and said, “The lad is right.”
Meanwhile, Donnie the Conqueror is on the verge of building a triumphant arch, though Anderson has an onlooker wonder what triumph it celebrates, since we’re bogged down in Iran and haven’t yet conquered Canada, either and the economy seems to be falling apart as well.
But as the fellow responds, Dear Leader has managed to conquer the government, despite the fact that some people would rather get an arrow in the eye than look at the tacky glitz and golden gilt he has spread over everything. We can still hope the official presidential portrait won’t be of a big-eyed child and, so far, there’s no giant salad fork on the walls of the Oval Office.
Not everyone is respectful of Dear Leader or his need to be remembered after he has left this mortal coil, and Noth suggests that people will remember what they choose to remember regardless of how many monuments are built and how many things are renamed.
Goris takes a less humorous approach to the same point, which is that, if Dear Leader’s plans go through, Arlington National Cemetery will be overshadowed by a monument to someone who not only cheated to avoid joining the people there, but holds them in contempt for their sacrifice.
However, Dear Leader has conquered as many of the right people as he needs to conquer, and he seems to have picked up that old bit of wisdom that it’s easier to seek forgiveness than to beg for permission.
If, for instance, you just tear down a wall of the White House, your minions will let you go ahead and build something new, because you probably can’t find all the old pieces anyway.
And even if the Chief Justice knows that what you’re doing is illegal, he can’t persuade a majority to agree with him. It’s complicated, but so much is these days.
However, in less that two months, we’ll see how a larger majority lines up.
Now here’s Norman’s greatest conquest:
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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