Image via Wikipedia

As a younger man, he was a court rock star. As an older man, he shared the same girth as that famous rap star. Ladies, power, bling, talent, anger management issues … there’s a reason Henry VIII elicits both admiration and disgust, sometimes simultaneously. 

It’s about 500 years later and the man is still analyzed, lionized, criticized.  On one hand, who goes to such measures simply for a son? What’s wrong with girls? Maybe one of them would even amount to something great, who knows? And the whole smashing-up-the-monasteries thing, religious persecution, and battling it out with the Vatican … for what?

For England, maybe. Or for his ego. Perhaps for a little of both: for his bloodline. Henry VIII’s era followed decades of feuding and finally his father’s resolution to the Wars of the Roses. Henry was raised as a second son, never meant to be king, and yet there he was after the untimely death of his older brother. The beloved, charming boy needed to become the powerful ruler. Surrounded by friends, women, toadying courtiers, and low-lying enemies, he needed to navigate the waters and somehow pass on his genetic code to the more respected sex, having boys and lots of them.

 As we all know, it got messy. Maybe that’s the way we like it; it’s where our fascinations lie. The man is a legend after all these centuries partly because of the dichotomy that existed within him. Just when we think he could be okay, we remember he was a monster. And just when our anger over this furious, egostical maniac has topped out, we remember he was a product of his time period and environment. His reputation precedes him, and yet we are drawn to his backstory and psyche.

“Biggie” in size, reputation, and influence, Henry VIII is probably the most notorious Tudor of all. And in a dynasty teeming with power struggles, drama, murder, and lust, that’s no small feat.