Uniquely, this book, according to its jacket copy, “presents the hypothesis that the Bayeux Tapestry, long believed to have been made in England, came from the Loire valley in France, from the abbey of St. Florent of Saumur.” For those with more than just a general knowledge of the Tapestry (the assumed audience of this book), this claim will seem bizarre, if not mad! Beech, somewhat like Charles Darwin, “anticipated reactions of stupor and disbelief” (ix) before he put pen to paper, but preferred not to discuss his theory with friends and colleagues until after he had finished the book. Of course Darwin, unlike Beech, published his theory when he knew others were having similar thoughts. . . .

The book reads well and has a refreshing style. The hypothesis is presented in a clear, honest, and open way, which does much to warm the reader to the argument being made. Chapters are thoughtfully divided and sub-headings are useful, especially for those who are less familiar with the topic, who have lost their place, or who are simply using this book for reference. However, those wishing for suspense or surprises will be disappointed; throughout his text, Beech lays his cards out on the table for all to see.

The preface gives a useful summary of Beech’s hypothesis, which is expanded upon in the introduction, before the case is made in six relatively short chapters.

Chapter 1 outlines the evidence for “textile activity” at St. Florent at the time the Bayeux Tapestry was produced; Beech believes this was sometime in the 1070s or 1080s. The only documentary evidence for the production of textiles at St. Florent is a forty-three-line passage in the Historia Sancti Florentii (dated to the end of the twelfth century) that refers to Abbott Robert of Blois (985–1011) hiring workers and commissioning textiles. While there is no obvious reason to refute this account, we cannot assume (as Beech does) that such activity continued throughout the eleventh-century, even if hangings were made at nearby St. Hilaire/St. Florent in the second quarter of the twelfth century. More problematic, there are no extant eleventh-century textiles of this workshop—apart from (perhaps) the Bayeux Tapestry itself!

Chapter 2 seeks to highlight the relationship between Duke William of Normandy and Abbot William (fitz Rivallon) of St. Florent. Sometime in 1065 or 1066, William fitz Rivallon succeeded his father (Rivallon) as Lord of Dol. By this time Dol had become strategic to Normandy’s southern frontier; in 1064 Duke William had campaigned against Duke Conan II of Rennes in aid of Rivallon. Although by 1066 William fitz Rivallon had retired to follow the monastic life, Beech argues the two Williams had a “personal relationship . . . centering on their mutual long-term interests and leading to the bestowal of gifts and compensations,” though he knows of “no charter or narrative account placing the two men together at the same time” (19, 30). Appendix A elaborates on this, suggesting that “William the Conqueror had a personal role in William fitz Rivallon’s entry into the monastery of St. Florent and his selection as abbot in 1070” (103). The fact that these two men knew each other seems reasonable, but there is less evidence for a special relationship.

This theory is expanded in chapter 3, where it is suggested that William of Normandy gave gifts (including endowments of churches and land in England and Normandy) to St. Florent in recompense for producing the Bayeux Tapestry. It is claimed, “the acquaintance of these two men led William the Conqueror to commission the Bayeux Tapestry sometime after William fitz Rivallon became abbot of St. Florent in 1070” and before 1083 (33). Unsurprisingly, primary evidence to substantiate this is lacking. One wonders whether such endowments to St. Florent after 1066 might be better understood as penance for those killed during the Norman Conquest of England. As an aside Beech also entertains the possibility that Queen Matilda may have commissioned the Tapestry. He then swiftly considers this to be “highly unlikely” (36); further discussion following this line of enquiry is suitably relegated to Appendix B (107–9).

Chapter 4 considers the relationship between the Bayeux Tapestry and Romanesque art in western France. Since nothing of the church at St. Florent survives, nor manuscripts produced at its scriptorium, or textiles from its workshop (save perhaps the Bayeux Tapestry), Beech is forced to consider relationships with art in the locality of Saumur and surrounding regions. He highlights “stylistic similarities” between the Tapestry and Romanesque mural paintings and manuscript illumination in Anjou and Poitou, as well as Romanesque manuscript illumination at Mont Saint-Michel and sculpture from the Loire Valley and Poitou. In particular, Beech is fascinated by the similarity of the “unusual lion’s tails” found in both the Bayeux Tapestry and Romanesque sculpture from the Loire Valley and Poitou (but also found in England), along with the Tapestry’s “animal fables” (49), which he likens to those in an illuminated manuscript of Adémar of Chabanne’s (Leiden University Library, Voss Latin 8 15) dated to about 1034. Unfortunately these examples will do nothing to satisfy art historians aware of impressively close parallels for the Tapestry’s imagery found in manuscripts known to be in Canterbury libraries in the second half of the eleventh century—such as the Old English Hexateuch (British Library, Cotton Claudius B.iv), the Harley Psalter (British Library, Harley 603), and the St Augustine’s Gospels (Cambridge, Corpus Christi College 286)—as well as stylistic similarities with a host of others, including British Library, Cotton Cleopatra C.viii and (Oxford, Bodleian Library) Junius 11.

Fundamental to Beech’s hypothesis, chapter 5 explains the relevance of the Breton campaign (Scenes 16 to 21) in support of a St. Florent provenance for the Tapestry. Here Beech forwards the argument that, ”the Tapestry artist presents a more complete and more accurate story of what happened [in the Breton campaign] than did William of Poitiers [the only other account William’s campaign into Brittany, in support of Rivallon of Dol, against Count Conan of Rennes] because he [assuming the Tapestry designer/artist was at St. Florent] was closer to and more familiar with that part of Brittany and its history” (62). Therefore, the episode was included in the Tapestry to celebrate the military capabilities of Duke William of Normandy and justify the Lords of Dol. The fact that the Bayeux Tapestry gives so much space to the Breton campaign and that there are major differences between the accounts offered by the Tapestry artist and William of Poitiers is puzzling. The traditional interpretation is that the Tapestry’s rendition of the Breton campaign provides a context for Harold’s oath to William, although most presume the account has been executed in a much more favorable light (for William) than actually happened. Indeed, this has been used to support the view that the Tapestry designer was unfamiliar with Breton politics. Likewise, it seems unlikely the Tapestry’s renditions of Mont Saint-Michel and the Breton fortifications of Dol, Dinan, and Rennes are plausible likeness of the places they represent; contrary to what Beech suggests.

Chapter 6 moots the possibility that if the Bayeux Tapestry was embroidered at St. Florent it would help explain how Baudri of Bourgueil (writing between 1099 and 1102)—who describes a hanging of similar subject matter to the Bayeux Tapestry in a poem to Countess Adèle of Blois (daughter of Duke William)—saw the Tapestry while at Bourgueil; only twenty-five kilometres from Saumur. The suggestion is interesting, although clearly the tapestry (in the true sense of the word) described by Baudri was more impressive than the Bayeux one, since it was woven of gold, silver, and silk thread and encrusted with pearls and jewels. Of course it is also possible that multiple textiles depicting the Norman Conquest of England may have existed: another (also thought by some to be the Bayeux Tapestry) is mentioned in an inventory of the treasures held by the Dukes of Burgundy at Dijon, dated to 1420.

In the concluding chapter Beech anticipates that his hypothesis “will be greeted initially with scepticism if not disbelief” (91). Consequently he seeks to tackle such objections head on, but not before highlighting the “main elements in the St. Florent hypothesis” (92) for one last time. The “most serious objection” (96), as Beech (correctly) sees it, is, “how can this hypothesis be reconciled with the view now accepted by virtually all specialists on the subject, that the Tapestry was made in England?” (96) It seems even Beech acknowledges that the art-historical evidence for English hands being involved in the Tapestry’s production is so convincing that, as a compromise, he suggests that, “Abbot William could have engaged St. Augustine illuminators to come and work at the abbey [of St. Florent] either bringing their manuscripts with them, or drawings made to serve as models”! (98) There is no evidence to substantiate this belief, and frankly the same hypothesis could be given for most other scriptorium in Western Christendom.

The other main objection considered by Beech is, “how can a proposal that William the Conqueror himself (and/or, possibly Queen Matilda) commissioned the Tapestry be reconciled with the commonly held belief that [Bishop] Odo of Bayeux, his half-brother, was the patron?” (99) This time Beech makes little attempt at reconciliation, instead rejecting Odo’s role in the production of the Tapestry in favor of that of Duke William. While it is conceivable that William commissioned the Tapestry, Odo’s apologists will be quick to point out that no other account of the Norman Conquest (apart from the Bayeux Tapestry) credits him with such a major role in the narrative, mentions (otherwise relatively unimportant) individuals believed to have been vassals of the Bishop, or places the crucial oath of Harold at Bayeux; this is of course the cathedral that Odo founded, the place where the Tapestry is mentioned in an inventory of 1476, and also where the Tapestry was re-discovered in the late seventeenth century. Further, if we are to believe the Tapestry is influenced (in the very least) by Canterbury illuminators, then who better to access these libraries than Odo, Bishop of Bayeux and Earl of Kent?

Here, then, Beech recognizes two major flaws in his argument, though this contribution will surely be discussed for many years to come.