The scandalous tale of Lady Godiva’s ride has been in circulation for nearly ten centuries. In that time, it has provided inspiration for innumerable poets, painters, and sculptors. Inevitably, Lady Godiva is depicted as naked on horseback, covered only by her long hair, as she rides through the town of Coventry. But did such a ride ever take place? According to some sources it did.
The legend was first recorded in Roger of Wendover’s 13th century Flores Historiarum (Flowers of History). Since then, it has been listed as fact in several other historical texts, including both Charles Knight’s A History of England and Chambers’ Encyclopaedia.
According to the legend, Lady Godiva was so distressed about the high taxes levied on the citizens of Coventry that she appealed to her husband, Leofric, Earl of Mercia, to give them relief. In response to her plea, Leofric informed her that he would not lower taxes unless she stripped naked and rode through the town on horseback. Taking him at his word, Lady Godiva did just that.
In more recent years, the tale has come to be regarded as “Only one of many legends of the Middle Ages—a relic of the simplicity and credulity of our early ancestors.” The 1888 issue of American Notes and Queries has a particularly compelling rationalization for the legend. It reads in part:
“Coventry, or Coventria, was a village so named because a convent, of which Saint Osburga formerly was Abbess, existed there; it was burned down when Eadrick ravaged the country.
“This spot had become the property of Earl Leofric, and he chose the site of the ruined convent, at the earnest solicitation of [Lady] Godiva, for the building of a magniﬁcent abbey. The determination once formed, the muniﬁcent founders lost no time in putting their design into execution; for Oderic Vitalis records that Lady Godiva gave to the good work all her treasures, and sending for goldsmiths she devoutly distributed all the gold and silver that she possessed, to make the sacred books, and texts, and crosses, and images of saints, and other marvelous church furniture. She also endowed the convent with much land and possessions, both in that and other parts of the country. In a word, she literally denuded or stripped herself of all her possessions to build this convent. This was in 1043 or 1044.”
Another version of this explanation reads:
“The people were heavily taxed with sin, and felt the weight thereof; they cried out for relief which could only be had by religious teaching. Churches were necessary for this religious teaching, and Lady Godiva, from the goodness of her heart, and, in loving sympathy for these people, appealed to her husband, Earl Leofric, for relief for them, by erecting a church. The earl responded that if she had such sympathy and would prove it by stripping herself of all her luxuries and earthly possessions, and so go through life, he would build the convent with them, and thus relieve the people. The result was one of the grandest churches of that time.”
To make the people appreciate the great personal sacrifice made by Lady Godiva in stripping herself of all her possession in order to fund a church, the priests illustrated the story with a picture that represented a woman riding naked through the streets. It was this picture which caught the imagination of future historians, like 13th century chronicler Roger of Wendover, as well as artists like John Collier and poets like Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
What do you think? Is the Legend of Lady Godiva based on fact? Or are the depictions of her naked on horseback a mere symbol of her great personal sacrifice to build one of the grandest churches of her time? Let me know in the comments! In the meanwhile, I leave you with Tennyson’s famous poem, Godiva (1840).
I waited for the train at Coventry;
I hung with grooms and porters on the bridge,
To watch the three tall spires; and there I shaped
The city’s ancient legend into this:
Not only we, the latest seed of Time,
New men, that in the flying of a wheel
Cry down the past, not only we, that prate
Of rights and wrongs, have loved the people well,
And loathed to see them overtax’d; but she
Did more, and underwent, and overcame,
The woman of a thousand summers back,
Godiva, wife to that grim Earl, who ruled
In Coventry: for when he laid a tax
Upon his town, and all the mothers brought
Their children, clamoring, “If we pay, we starve!”
She sought her lord, and found him, where he strode
About the hall, among his dogs, alone,
His beard a foot before him and his hair
A yard behind. She told him of their tears,
And pray’d him, “If they pay this tax, they starve.”
Whereat he stared, replying, half-amazed,
“You would not let your little finger ache
For such as these?” — “But I would die,” said she.
He laugh’d, and swore by Peter and by Paul;
Then fillip’d at the diamond in her ear;
“Oh ay, ay, ay, you talk!” — “Alas!” she said,
“But prove me what I would not do.”
And from a heart as rough as Esau’s hand,
He answer’d, “Ride you naked thro’ the town,
And I repeal it;” and nodding, as in scorn,
He parted, with great strides among his dogs.
So left alone, the passions of her mind,
As winds from all the compass shift and blow,
Made war upon each other for an hour,
Till pity won. She sent a herald forth,
And bade him cry, with sound of trumpet, all
The hard condition; but that she would loose
The people: therefore, as they loved her well,
From then till noon no foot should pace the street,
No eye look down, she passing; but that all
Should keep within, door shut, and window barr’d.
Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there
Unclasp’d the wedded eagles of her belt,
The grim Earl’s gift; but ever at a breath
She linger’d, looking like a summer moon
Half-dipt in cloud: anon she shook her head,
And shower’d the rippled ringlets to her knee;
Unclad herself in haste; adown the stair
Stole on; and, like a creeping sunbeam, slid
From pillar unto pillar, until she reach’d
The Gateway, there she found her palfrey trapt
In purple blazon’d with armorial gold.
Then she rode forth, clothed on with chastity:
The deep air listen’d round her as she rode,
And all the low wind hardly breathed for fear.
The little wide-mouth’d heads upon the spout
Had cunning eyes to see: the barking cur
Made her cheek flame; her palfrey’s foot-fall shot
Light horrors thro’ her pulses; the blind walls
Were full of chinks and holes; and overhead
Fantastic gables, crowding, stared: but she
Not less thro’ all bore up, till, last, she saw
The white-flower’d elder-thicket from the field,
Gleam thro’ the Gothic archway in the wall.
Then she rode back, clothed on with chastity;
And one low churl, compact of thankless earth,
The fatal byword of all years to come,
Boring a little auger-hole in fear,
Peep’d — but his eyes, before they had their will,
Were shrivel’d into darkness in his head,
And dropt before him. So the Powers, who wait
On noble deeds, cancell’d a sense misused;
And she, that knew not, pass’d: and all at once,
With twelve great shocks of sound, the shameless noon
Was clash’d and hammer’d from a hundred towers,
One after one: but even then she gain’d
Her bower; whence reissuing, robed and crown’d,
To meet her lord, she took the tax away
And built herself an everlasting name.
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