Myths About Henry VIII

Whenever there are historical things about, there are people who know nothing but myths, people who THINK they know, and people – like me – who have actually researched it.

Henry was a difficult man to parse. There is the outer Henry, the one most of us see in history books or depicted for good or ill in dramas – a vane, vicious man, and absolute monarch, single-minded in his need for a male heir. But as with most people, there is the inner Henry, a much more complicated individual. He was staunchly religious, even being called Fidei Defensor, ‘Defender of the Faith’ by Pope Leo X. He wrote treatises on the Catholic religion, and even against Martin Luthor and his Protestantism. That soon waned when Henry’s ‘Great Matter’ –that of his divorce from his first wife, Catherine of Aragon—could find no foothold in Rome. Catherine couldn’t give Henry a son as heir, and this became what he felt was an obstacle to a successful reign; that he couldn’t leave a king after him, only a woman to be queen. (And why was this a problem? It hadn’t been done in England except for the twelfth century Empress Matilda, the daughter of Henry I, William the Conqueror’s son – and a civil war ensued to depose her. A queen might also be at the mercy of whatever husband she chose, the man being the head of the household. Naturally, Englishmen didn’t want to be ruled by a foreign prince, especially if the queen died in childbed. Probably chiefly one of the reasons Elizabeth I never married.)

So let’s get to it.

 

Henry VIII was fat.

Not true. When Henry began his reign, he cut quite a dashing figure. He was a very handsome man, six foot one, young and strong, a poet, a composer of music, a patron of the arts. “His goodly personage, his amiable visage, princely countenance, with the noble qualities of his royal estate, to every man known, needeth no rehearsal, considering that for lack of cunning, I cannot express the gifts of nature that God hath endowed him withal.” So says lawyer and Tudor chronicler Edward Hall. He loved hunting, riding, wrestling, jousting. It was only later in life, after a jousting accident, he hurt his leg rather badly. It became ulcerated and never did heal, so he couldn’t enjoy any of the physical activities he used to do. What was left for him was philandering…and eating. And eat he did. And got fatter.

 

As mentioned above, Henry composed music. And he wrote the famous Greensleeves song we know today, whose tune is sometimes called What Child is This at Christmas time.    

Though it was true he wrote music, and very popular they were even on the Continent, he didn’t write Greensleeves. It was thought he did, but was later proven he hadn’t. An unknown musician created that song, and, possibly because it had been attributed to Henry VIII, it came down to us today, though we also have his other songs.

Henry had a terrible jousting accident that threw him into unconsciousness for two hours! That’s why he got so medieval on his wives.

Henry did have a terrible jousting accident, but it didn’t put him out for two hours. Henry was trying out new armour in the tiltyard, fell from his horse which reportedly landed on him, and supposedly was out cold for two hours. This titbit of news was conveyed by a Dr. Ortiz who was in Rome at the time and not an eyewitness to events. It was shared by a French ambassador, who also was not an eyewitness. Strangely, this version seemed to have stuck even to this day. I’ve even heard famed historians spout this. However, Eustace Chapuys, the ambassador to the Holy Roman Emperor who was at court at the time, stated, ‘On the eve of the Conversion of St. Paul, the King being mounted on a great horse to run at the lists, both fell so heavily that everyone thought it a miracle he was not killed, but he sustained no injury.’ (Italics are mine). This account was verified by the English court chronicler – also at court – Charles Wriothesley. Henry, apparently, was not knocked out cold for two hours, because Chapuys would have feasted on those tidings hither and yon. So the theory that Henry received a brain injury that changed his personality, was false. There were enough brutal executions before the fall as after. And no one seems to be accounting for his counsellors who had their own agendas, urging him to do this or that. Remind you of anyone?

And another thing, when a knight mounted a horse, it didn’t take a crane to do it. That was people misunderstanding armour. A knight needed to be able to get on and off his horse while in full armour — which can weigh about 45-65 pounds. I’ve known backpacks to weigh as much. They could run, do somersaults, and, most importantly, fight. If that was used at all for Henry, it would have been in his fat later years. Mostly, it’s a Victorian hoax.

When Henry ate he threw the bones on the floor.

I really hate this one, because it’s a myth about the whole Middle Ages, and it probably came from the 1933 film THE PRIVATE LIFE OF HENRY VIII starring Charles Laughton as Henry.

People did NOT throw their bones on the floor. Would you? They were smarter than that. They knew that it would attract all manner of vermin, and uncleanliness was definitely NOT medieval. Yes, read that again. In the Middle Ages, uncleanliness was associated with sin, and cleanliness was associated with holiness, so they washed their hands before they ate, they often shared the wine goblet with their neighbour and so it was definitely impolite to drink with your mouth full, or to wipe your hands on your clothes. That’s what the tablecloth was for, you barbarian!

 

Henry executed all his eight wives.

Two fallacies there. He did not execute all his wives. Only two. And did you catch it? He didn’t have eight wives. He only had six (still unprecedented, but still). That’s because people are focused on Henry the EIGHTH, and that number sticks in their heads. Six wives. He divorced his first wife Catherine of Aragon with whom he was married for 23 years, because his councillors whispered in his ear about having no male heir (he did have an acknowledged illegitimate son Henry Fitzroy by his mistress Bessie Blount – the last name means ‘son of the king’, so it’s a moniker rather than a name – but he died at age 18 in 1537).

There’s a little school children’s rhyme to help you remember the wives (and no, it didn’t come form the musical SIX. It is far older than that);

Divorced / Beheaded / Died / Divorced / Beheaded / Survived

Catherine of Aragon was the first to be divorced from Henry on the grounds that he illegally married the widow of his brother. It was a biblical prohibition and he was made to believe he couldn’t have sons because of it, though the Scriptures say specifically no children would be born, which, as we see from Princess Mary just wasn’t true. Besides, he got that papal dispensation to marry her. Oh well.

 Anne Boleyn was beheaded because of trumped up charges of adultery – even with her own brother. None of it was true, but Henry was tired of having female heirs and one of the true villains in the piece, his Councillor of the Exchequer Thomas Cromwell, created the lies that took her to trial and her execution (because adultery in a royal marriage is treason).

Jane Seymour died 12 days after giving birth to Henry’s only legit son, Edward VI. This was not the love of his life, as many had proposed simply because he was buried beside her. She fulfilled a function, but she – a rather quiet, domestic wife, a peacemaker and wanted Henry to return Princess Mary back into the line of succession – was not the kind of woman he really liked.

Anne of Cleves, the only imported wife from another country. She didn’t speak English, she didn’t understand English ways, and Henry mistook this for ignorance. He publicly expressed that he couldn’t get it up for her, and so it was an easy annulment. Henry seemed to like it best when he knew the women he mistressed and married. All his other wives were Maids of Honour serving under the current queens. She had it the best, I suppose and outlived him and all his other wives, and was the only one to be buried in Westminster Abbey.

 Catherine Howard was 17 to Henry’s fat 49. She was a player, and it was summarily discovered. Very clearly committing adultery/treason. It was a huge blow to Henry, who thought this young creature truly loved him.

Catherine Parr was the last wife, the nursemaid wife. She cared for the aging and dying Henry in his last years. But this was not her first marriage. She had been married to Sir Edward Burgh (1529–1533). He died. Then she had a second marriage to John Neville, 3rd Baron Latimer (1534–1543). He was an older gentleman and he died. Parr then married Henry VIII in 1543 to his death in 1547.

Parr was on course to have a lovely life after Henry died, marrying for the fourth time the love of her life, Sir Thomas Seymour. Young, sexy, it was finally her time. (There’s a lot that happened in between all this but we can’t go into it all here). Parr gave birth to her only child (after three previous marriages), Mary Seymour on 30 August 1548. Catherine died on 5 September 1548. So much for that longed-for happy life.

As you can see, all the drama leaves a lot for me to unspool and work with for my King’s Fool Mysteries, one book per wife. The latest is book 4, Devil’s Gambit.