Henry the VIII

A mnemonic to remember the wives of Henry the VIII: Divorced, Beheaded, Died, Divorced, Beheaded, Survived

Even though he was a lecherous old goat, I get a kick out of Henry the VIII. I have to respect somebody who said, "You won't let me divorce? Fine. I'll go start my own flippin' church then." Of all the events of the Renaissance, none other was so influential, yet so driven by personal greed. There was no religious fervor, only the desire of a man in hot pursuit of the next young thing and a son to secure his kingdom.

I love the Tudor dynasty in general. They fascinate me. Elizabeth's delicate juggling of foreign invaders-cum-suitors; poor, twisted, demented Mary trying to avenge her mother and her overwhelming desire for a baby that would never come; Edward, the fading child-king...has there ever been such a collection of personalities in one family?

I enjoy most of the British monarchy, at least the ones long gone. History of England was one of my favorite classes in undergraduate. That was probably due to the teacher. I think most history classes probably sink or swim based on the teacher.

Back to Henry...
I like the fact that he was interested in a lot of things. I wonder what he was like before he got old and sick. I wonder if he really wrote Greensleeves. I bet he was one of the most arrogant creatures ever to walk the earth. Who wouldn't be when taught from birth that your will is an extension of the will of God?

One thing always makes me feel badly for him: Catherine Howard. I know she was probably forced into marriage with him, but all the records say he was truly in love with her. I wonder if he'd ever been in love before in all his life. Then to have her abandon him for a younger lover must have been beyond heartbreaking. I'm sure he knew he wasn't physically attractive anymore. I'm sure he never really expected marriage to anything other than a means of procreation. Somehow, though, he truly came to love her and was betrayed. Maybe it's this one moment of genuine emotion that makes him real to me.

I stood in the hallway at Hampstead Court that Catherine Howard supposedly raced down to plead with him at prayers. I could almost see him kneeling at the rail, head in hands, heart torn, pride wounded, making the decision to cloak himself in royal anger and wreak destruction on the sources of his pain. I wonder if he ever turned to the door where she was screaming for her life.

One of my favorite doodads from my recent trip to the UK is a tiny sterling silver charm of Henry. I got it at St. Paul's Cathedral in London. It's a fairly detailed and heavy piece. I smile every time I put on. I don't know how he would have felt about being reduced from divine-right sovereign to kitschy silver souvenir, but I like to think maybe, just maybe, he'd have been amused.