"It should be noted that chroniclers of the 11th and 12th century write of Godiva with respect as a religious woman, some mention her beauty, but significantly there is no mention of the ride by those of her contemporaries who knew her well. The Evesham chronicler refers to gifts of Leofricus and Godgiva and the creation of the church of Holy Trinity at Evesham and Godiva’s burial there but makes no mention of the ride. The fact that none of the contemporary chroniclers who wrote about Godiva mention anything about the ride is a substantial piece of evidence against the ride ever having taken place. Something so amazing, so shocking as the wife of one of the most powerful men in England riding naked or otherwise, through a small settlement would have required at least a mention. It has been suggested that Godiva may have been naked in the sense that she was unadorned by the jewels and the trappings of power, or that it may have been an unadorned pilgrimage as a display of piety. This would even so have been an event of note in the life of the famous lady and would have required some mention by her chroniclers, especially if as is claimed it resulted in taxation changes."
For more see: http://mysite.wanadoo-members.co.uk/parsonal/godiva.htm
1 comment:
Poor Godiva, misunderstood..reminds me of a poem. Sorry if a little tangential.
Even so distant, I can taste the grief,
Bitter and sharp with stalks, he made you gulp.
The sun's occasional print, the brisk brief
Worry of wheels along the street outside
Where bridal London bows the other way,
And light, unanswerable and tall and wide,
Forbids the scar to heal, and drives
Shame out of hiding. All the unhurried day,
Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives.
Slums, years, have buried you. I would not dare
Console you if I could. What can be said,
Except that suffering is exact, but where
Desire takes charge, readings will grow erratic?
For you would hardly care
That you were less deceived, out on that bed,
Than he was, stumbling up the breathless stair
To burst into fulfillment's desolate attic.
~ Philip Larkin
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