The Death of Henry VIII
By Vanessa Lace, Second Year History
The Victorians were the first to go properly mad about the Tudors. By opening Hampton Court Palace to the public, Queen Victoria hoped to inspire industrial Britain to strive for a morally assured life, by learning the rags to riches story of its inhabitant Cardinal Wolsey.
Today however, the public is more interested in the exciting events of the Tudor monarchy, positively cemented by Hilary Mantel’s novel Wolf Hall, and its subsequent screen adaptation. Moreover, the period’s introduction as a compulsory part of the Key-Stage 2 curriculum has helped cultivate the obsession from a young age.
One of the most charismatic Kings in the line-up is Henry VIII. Son of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, he was kept away from public duty until his father’s untimely death in 1509 propelled him into power at just 18. Hans Holbein’s famous portrait enables us to picture him with unique clarity as a strong and imposing King, an impression Henry was keen to cultivate in order to rally support for his endeavours of conquest.
For much of his reign, Henry was a very athletic and charming man, eager to please everyone he met. But during a jousting tournament aged 44, Henry fell off and lay unconscious for two hours, arguably he was never the same again. Many have described the behaviour of his last decade as tyrannical, owning to the rudeness and anger with which he greeted anyone he conversed with. This was further exacerbated by the pain he suffered due to great boils covering his body from his non-stop indulgence in rich foods.
If you ask the public what they can tell you about Henry VIII, they will most likely tell you he was the one with the six wives. If they are of a certain age, then they will most likely also be able to tell you how each of these poor women died by quoting the famous Horrible Histories song. And those possessed of a musical disposition may even have seen the musical ‘Six’, in which their stories are brought to life in their own right.
The reason for this outrageous behaviour, in the eyes of the average sixteenth-century Englishman, was because Henry longed to fulfil his romantic notion of bearing a son to rule. In order to skirt around the minor impingement that as a Catholic, the Pope rightly denied Henry’s demand for divorce, he made the infamous ‘break from Rome.’ The Church of England was established and in true Henry fashion he declared himself ‘The Supreme Head’ of the structure.
In 1547 Henry met what he might have considered a rather undignified end. For a man who had grand plans of conquest, glory, and prestige, he would probably be disappointed that he died from gout, rather than by the sword.
Yet his representation on screen in particular is alive and well. There are the numerous Horrible Histories sketches, notwithstanding the screen adaptations of Mantel’s novels and ‘The Tudors’, the four-star hit rated portrayal of Henry and his court.
Whilst many regard the continual portrayal of the Tudors in television as a positive, we must also remember the implications of constantly staging their lives as epic dramas. As a field, we historians have a responsibility to find a balance between engaging the public in our discipline and presenting a historically accurate version of events.
Henry VIII by Hans Holbein The Younger, c.1537, The Tate