17/03/13

Although I am extremely reluctant to write this, Henry VIII had a real dilemma on his hands with the want, through Catherine of Aragon, of a male heir to the English throne. Catherine had suffered several miscarriages and only given him one daughter (Mary, destined, as a Catholic, to become Queen), and, given her advancing age, the prospects for a son were not too good. At that time a female sovereign, or queen, on the English throne was unheard of, all the previous monarchs having been kings. And so, under pressure to produce a son, Henry sought to divorce Catherine in order to remarry in the expectation of better results.

The Catholic Church, however, to which the king was attached, forbade divorce, no matter what the pretext, leaving Henry with little option but to divorce Catherine and marry again anyway, thereby incurring the penalty of excommunication. Ironically, although he did eventually secure a male heir in the person of Edward VI, who was too young to actually rule independently of a regency, it was his first daughter, Mary who, following the brief reign of Lady Jane Grey (appointed via her mother, Lady Brandon, by Edward in order to preclude Mary, a Catholic, from inheriting the throne), went on to rule from 1553-58, and largely because the Church that Henry founded, the Church of England, made it possible for England to be ruled by a female, albeit one in her case who, being Catholic, sought to undo, within the Anglican state, what her father had tried to establish. For Henry had had a problem with the Catholic Church and Catholicism in general, bearing in mind that loyalty to the throne could not be guaranteed from subjects who were mainly Catholic. Therefore he had set about disestablishing monasteries and other traditional religious sites not merely to avenge himself upon Rome for having excommunicated him but, more significantly, to ensure the continuance of his reign and of the Tudor line.

Art, not least religious art, was also a victim of Henry's reign, which is not altogether surprising since, quite apart from any moral objections one might conceive of (dubious at best), it would have been the product, by and large, of Catholic artists, not least from Italy and France, and therefore one could not establish, much less build, the new church, the Church of England, by continuing to employ the kinds of artists, sculptors, carvers, etc., largely, if not exclusively, responsible for what had gone before and who would not, in all probability, want to work for a heretic and apostate even if he had been stupid or naïve enough to invite them. They, too, were naturally banned from Henry's church, as he sought to distance himself from Rome and all things Catholic (which must have incurred Mary's resentment well before she ascended the throne and acquired the 'bloody' reputation for which she is still remembered).

As for his subsequent marital fate, it didn't really improve all that much, what with another daughter (Elizabeth, destined to succeed Queen Mary as Elizabeth I in 1558) from his third marriage (the second having given him Edward), while Katherine Parr, the last of the six (Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, and Catherine Howard having preceded her), was someone he apparently didn't have intimate relations with at all, although she outlived him (he died in 1547) and went on to marry again, this time a relative, if I'm not mistaken, of Catherine Howard.

So, all in all, King Henry VIII had, even without personal problems deriving from his corpulence, a hard time of it, and one should not look upon his excommunication from the Roman Catholic Church as retribution for an especially sinful or wayward disposition but, rather, as the inevitable course of unfortunate events in which the king felt he had no alternative, in the circumstances, but to divorce Catherine of Aragon and remarry in the, by then, desperate hope of securing a male heir to the English throne. His subsequent tendency towards serial monogamy, as I earlier described it, was not unconnected with this fundamental problem and in no way connected to his excommunication which, of course, resulted from his marriage to Anne Boleyn, who, happily, gave him a male child, namely Edward, before proving less than satisfactory in other respects. But, in all, he only had three children, two of whom were girls, one child from each of his first three marriages, Elizabeth, like Edward before her, being raised as a Protestant within the Anglican fold, but not destined to inherit the throne until after her half-sister Mary, who had of course been raised as a Catholic during his first marriage, had died in 1558 and, with Habsburg connections (Mary having married Philip I of Spain in 1554), paved the way for Spanish interest in the English throne and opposition to the Protestant Elizabeth, which culminated with the loss at sea and effective defeat of the Spanish Armada sent to invade England and resulted, ironically, in the continuing rule, until 1603, of Queen Elizabeth I, the real beneficiary of her father's reforms.

Although I have no compunction in pursuing metaphysical truth, indeed tend to write about it with an alacrity that sometimes astonishes me, given my general reluctance to put pen to paper, I am, as though by compensation, much more reluctant to get my facts straight, largely, I suspect, because I tend to distrust the extent to which certain things or claims are actually factual and not rather fiction in disguise, or fictions dressed up as facts. In fact, if truth be told, I often encounter a difficulty, coming from a literary background, in distinguishing fact from fiction anyway, quite apart from the amount of fact which is dressed up as truth when, in point of fact, it is further from truth than would be illusion or, rather, falsity.

As a matter of fact, I am equally reluctant to read fiction these days, much less write it, and usually steer well clear of novels and other fictitious writings that, no matter how preferable to unsublimated drama, also make claims upon truth when, in actuality, they would be further from truth than illusion and correspondingly closer – dare I say it? - to fact.