the TUDOR TUTOR
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The Throne is Empty; Get in Line
Tomorrow is a wild and crazy date in Tudor history — On 28 January 1457, Henry VII was born and on 28 January 1547, Henry VIII died. Two kings in a row, father and son, same date, birth for one, death for the other, two transposed numbers at the end. Wicked!
The popular rumour (and you know how I feel about those) is that Henry VIII’s last words were “Monks! Monks! Monks!” But in reality Henry was speechless at the end of his life, although he did give Archbishop Cranmer’s hand a little squeeze when the Archbishop asked the king for a sign that he trusted in the Lord.
The only people around him in his last days were the Archbishop and the men from his Privy Council and Privy Chamber. He’d called for his last wife, Catherine Parr, a few days earlier but that was her final goodbye. The king was 55 years old at the time of his death.
I wanted to share with you the opening credits of the series finale of “The Tudors” for a few reasons. First, it is just beautifully done, as was the entire series. You can’t deny the aesthetics of that show, no matter if you think there were too many inaccuracies, too much nudity, not enough nudity! or whatever your reasons may be.
Also, you’ve got to love the Curtain Call of the Dead at the very end. The series actually did this with every episode, the final flashes of the opening credits being those we’d lost up until that point in the story. For the finale, we start with an extended shot of Katherine Howard and her girls, marvelling out the window at a snowfall, and then flash by the rest of the dearly departed favourites: Thomas Cromwell, Catherine of Aragon, Thomas More, Anne Boleyn, and Cardinal Wolsey. (Jane Seymour is earlier in the credits.)
The most poignant touches, however, are the shots of Charles Brandon (who was actually dead by then, but nevermind), Princess Mary, Edward Seymour, and Catherine Parr standing beside The Empty Throne. If you watched the series, you know that the throne motif in the opening set the tone for Henry’s place in life for that season.
For Season One, he’s in control, young, hot, doing the flashing-eyes thing, flanked by admirers and accepting reassuring touches from his loyal queen, Catherine of Aragon. For Season Two, he’s all eyes-flashing again but taking The Touch from Anne Boleyn this time round. My personal favourite is for Season Three, where he does the standing-up “surprised to see you” bit that reminds me so much of Christopher Walken’s “The Continental” skit on Saturday Night Live. “Come! Sit and have some sham-PAHN-yah!”
This weekend, you may want to raise a glass of sham-PAHN-yah yourself, first for Henry VII who started this whole big shebang, and second for Henry VIII. He may have left England with a mess to clean up after his death, but his life, loves, and legacy were so complex as to inspire books, movies, songs, documentaries, blogs, Facebook pages, and similar gates to immortality. 
My Apologies to Holbein…
So I had a bit of fun this morning with the famous Henry VIII portrait, as you can see above. You’ll need to click on the image for the full effect.
Okay, okay, back to work for me!
Occupy Hampton Court
- Copyright: The Tudor Tutor
Mediocre Expectations
Charles Dickens was a man of many words. Many, many, many, many words. I don’t know how well his books would go over if they were newly-released today because most people have the attention span of a gnat. But part of his appeal, at least to me, is the gorgeous way he serves up succulent sentences full of the finest detail.
I love me some Charles Dickens, but the man could not say the same about our Henry VIII, apparently. In his Child’s History of England (used in British schools well into the 20th century), Mr. Dickens had these many, many words for the much-married monarch:
“Bluff King Hal [was]…one of the most detestable villains that ever drew breath…He was a big, burly, noisy, smelly, small-eyed, large-faced, double-chinned, swinish looking fellow in later life (as we know from the likenessess of him, painted by the famous Hans Holbein), and it is not easy to believe that so bad a character can ever have been veiled under a prepossessing appearance…He was as most intolerable ruffian, a disgrace to human nature, and a blot of blood and grease upon the History of England.”
So, no questions then?
You can read Dickens’ history book online here; if you are only interested in the Tudor bits, they fall between pages 145 and 193.
A Spare is Born
520 years is a big number, so let’s start the party early! Tomorrow, 28 June, marks the 520th anniversary of Henry VIII’s birth. What we have to remember is that his older brother, Arthur, was the boy upon whose shoulders the Tudor future rested. Little Henry was simply “the spare.” The above sketch was made when the boy was but two years old.
Although he wasn’t groomed to be king, he collected quite a few titles before the age of four: Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Duke of York, Knight of the Garter, All-Around Lovely Chap.
His education was well-rounded; the kid was immersed in the classics, maths, reading, writing, and French. Music was his forte, one that would follow him to adulthood. (But no, he probably didn’t write “Greensleeves.“) Tennis, archery, jousting, fencing, wrestling … there was no shortage of physical activity for the little prince.
Who knew that the spare would not only step up to the plate when the heir dropped out, he would also rock the monarchy (and the institution of marriage) in an unprecented way? But for now, let’s think back to a more innocent time, when Henry VIII: Tyrant / Serial Husband / Big-Boned Gastronome was merely an adored little newborn in the royal Tudor household.
Henry VIII’s Annus Horribilis
I didn’t want to get started on reviewing books; I first dipped my toe into that water when I ranted about Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire and her spoiled crew. I still plan on leaving book reviews to others, but there is a relatively new book I believe you should add to your queue, Tudor fans!
This isn’t as much a review (I don’t feel I’m qualified as a book reviewer) as it is a recommendation for the book I read just after that one, which I have recently finished, and that is 1536: The Year That Changed Henry VIII by Suzannah Lipscomb.
One of the tragedies of Henry VIII’s character is his change from charming, athletic prince to paranoid, gross, and cruel king. Dr. Lipscomb explores the events of 1536 and puts forth why that year was a crucial turning point in the change we see. She easily conveys her vast knowledge of the subject in a well-organized and conversational manner, making 1536 a pleasure to read. It is only 209 pages, perfect for getting your Tudor fix during a long day at the beach or during a quiet weekend!
Dr. Lipscomb has been a research curator at Hampton Court, and a university lecturer. She’s now the subject convenor and Senior Lecturer for history at New College of the Humanities in central London. The complete goods, including video clips, can be found on her website. And if you are on Twitter, give her a follow! @sixteenthCgirl
Recap: “Inside the Body of Henry VIII”
Image via Wikipedia
Last night, National Geographic channel re-ran their special “Inside the Body of Henry VIII” and I finally caught the whole thing. I’d seen clips but I wanted the whole enchilada, and have recapped it for you…
The aim of the program seems to be, as Jerry Seinfeld might muse, “Henry VIII…What’s the deal with him??” Our hosts are on a mission to find out, combining history, science, and medicine. They are Dr. Lucy Worsley, historian with adorable bobbed haircut and barrette, Robert Hutchinson, Henry VIII biographer, and Dr. Catherine Hood, medical doctor.
The questions up for grabs are: Did Henry have diabetes? How about syphilis? A hormonal disorder? What effect did those jousting injuries have? Why couldn’t his wives conceive or stay pregnant? Why was he so fat? Why was he so angry?? They start with …
Family History — Henry was the third child of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York. As a little boy, he was well-built and healthy. Soon his father contracted tuberculosis, which we have treatment for these days but then it meant you were probably a goner. Dad may have passed it to his heir, Prince Arthur, who died soon after. Next up, Henry! At the age of 17, he had the crown but no TB. Whew!
Infections – Henry was a strong teen king, athletic and all that. But London was a filthy, rat-infested mess at that point. Five years into his reign he comes down with a fever, which was probably smallpox. Dr. Hood talks about the pustules and shows us gruesome pictures. To review: vaccines are good, mmmkay?
At nearly 30, he gets another fever. This was probably malaria, which was going around due to all the marshes in the area to host all those mosquitoes. Henry suffered repeated bouts of the disease and it’s thought to have contributed to his paranoia, which turned to flat-out hypochondria. Luckily for him, he wasn’t able to Google the heck out of his symptoms at the time which surely would have made things 10 times worse.
At this point, Dr. Worsley is standing in front of a bit of [the Thames?] river with the most gorgeous blackening English sky overhead. Love! On we go to …
Sporting Injuries – We see Henry’s armor, which gives us a good idea of his size, and the obnoxious codpiece, which gives us a good idea of his, well, moving on. Henry was 6’1″, a virtual giant for Tudor times. His calves were divine, which was part of his appeal. Whereas today, Men’s Health magazine seems to run the same “great abs” cover story every month, at that time they would be most interested in lovely legs on a man.
Right, so on to the head injury he got in a moment of temporary stupidity/distraction as he forgot to lower his mask in a game that involves a long, pointy lance. Henry was lucky to have only sustained minor injury, as he could have lost his eye or worse. His migraines can be traced back to this particular event.
This sporty guy also enjoyed squash and tennis, which led to another injury in 1527, a wrenched foot. For some time afterward he had to baby his foot by wearing soft slippers; his faithful courtiers followed suit in sympathy. Awww.
At age 36 he developed a varicose ulcer, brought on by those fashionable but constrictive garters. Today this kind of thing heals very slowly, so it’s a wonder he didn’t die of blood poisoning at the time. As it were, his docs still went by the whole four-humours thing, examining stools, tasting urine, employing the most recent advances in medical science. Bring on medical historian Steve Bacon, dressed as a Tudor physician and bearing glistening black leeches. He places them on some victims/volunteers, and they claim it feels like a pinprick. Apparently leeches leave an anticoagulant under your skin when they are removed, so you keep bleeding. I learn something new every day!
Sexual Health – Where the bloody hell is a son for this guy?? That is the question the hosts are now trying to answer. Poor sanitation may have contributed to Cat of Aragon’s mostly-unsuccessful pregnancies but did syphilis also play a role? The Tudor cure for that STD was mercury (the stuff we can no longer use in thermometers so now I’m forced to make do with a flexible digital gadget which is always at least 2.5 degrees off). For six weeks, the afflicted would be confined to bed and treated with mercury, which made them sweat and salivate. There’s no record of Henry VIII being out of commission for so long, or of having the telltale skin rotting (ew) syphilis brings. Biographer Hutchinson concludes that, while the king may have been a carrier of the disease, this is a “case not proven.”
By his mid-40s, Henry still has no son. HEIR FAIL. So “The Great Matter” comes about and he imposes his will and his new church on the country. And then we have…
Back to Injuries – January 1536, another jousting accident, but this is The Big One. The armoured king is racing with his armoured horse at top speed, and the latter lands atop the former. That’s gotta hurt. In fact, Henry is unconscious for two hours. To drive home the point of how disastrous this was, the Royal Marines Trauma Surgeon recreates the event by dropping a 1500 pound weight from a crane onto a big fat pig from 14 feet above. I have to wonder where PETA is. Although the pig is already dead, the organization can usually find something to crow about in similar situations.
The surgeon deduces that the king survived only because of his armor, and even then I am gobsmacked that he survived at all. Certainly, though, his brain rattled around sufficiently in his skull. If his frontal lobe were affected, the team mentions, his personality was most definitely affected by this.
His leg ulcers stopped draining which made him black in the face, so his docs would cauterise the wounds with hot irons so they could drain. The monarch who once displayed stunning legs now had gams covered in runny sores which could be smelled from three rooms away. Gah!
Costumed Steve Bacon returns to show us the scary medieval amputation devices of the day. Only 10 percent of amputees survived back then, so no one wanted to take the chance with Henry. He therefore got to keep his nasty, stinking leg.
Diet – Between his 20s and his 50s, the tall king went from a 32″ waistline to a 52″ one, from a 39″ chest to a 53″ one. He was now nearly 400 pounds! So Dr. Worsley takes us for a trip around the supermarket for “Henry’s weekly shop.” This is fantastic. She piles beef, lamb, chicken, pork, and rabbit into a cart while we learn he also ate peacock and swan. Tesco may have been out of those. She heaves 70 pints of ale and lots of wine in as well, and tops it off with what looks like 24 bags of white bread. By-passing the produce section, she states this was food for peasants so the [constipated] monarch ate none of it, although he did fancy strawberries.
In the virtual autopsy, we see just what kind of a number this diet did on Henry’s insides. There’s a thick subcutaneous layer of fat, of course, and a fatty liver. His enlarged heart pumps furiously in his chest, and he’s clinically obese — at high risk for high blood pressure and type-2 (late-onset) diabetes. In fact, diabetes seems to be a definite to this crew, and I have to agree.
The program airs again on Tuesday, the first of February at 6:00 pm ET. Check this link for more updated info.
Shakespeare’s Secret
The Folger Theater’s production of the oft-hidden “Henry VIII” is part of the happy hoopla surrounding the 500th anniversary of Henry VIII’s accession, along with the Vivat Rex! exhibit in the same building. I’ve seen the exhibit, and this past Saturday night, I was thrilled to take in the show. (There’s an official trailer here.)
Maybe it is out of superstition, since the Globe Theater burned down during a performance of “The Famous History of the Life of King Henry VIII” (or maybe because it’s a subject we’ve seen in a thousand different places so why should Shakespeare’s version stand out?) but the Shakespeare/John Fletcher take on the Tudors between the Duke of Buckingham’s arrest and Princess Elizabeth’s birth (spanning the dates from early 1521 to September 1533) is scarcely seen on the stage.
Since the play is called “Henry VIII,” you would expect the Big Guy to be the strongest character. Not so much. Henry, as played by Ian Merrill Peakes, has his intimidating moments and does a fair amount of storming the stage (and turning on the charm), but overall this is a more tame Henry than we might expect. This isn’t a slam against the terrific Peakes, but rather a fact of the character. Henry is the reason for the events in the play, but not usually the focus of the action. Plus, Shakespeare was not about to offend the memory of his patron: Henry’s daughter, Elizabeth I.
Louis Butelli (who made me envision a hypothetic love child of Michael Stipe and a gangly Brad Pitt) is delightful as top jester Will Sommers, a character not in the original play. Sommers is the portal into the events: He plops down on the edge of the stage from time to time and uses puppets to clue us in to the coming drama, breaks that 4th wall regularly, and dons various other hats (literally) to play an old lady, a cardinal, and even Cromwell. See video of Butelli’s fool here.
Catherine of Aragon, as played by Naomi Jacobson, is both regal and grounded, has both gravity and sweetness. Her court scene puts the audience into, well, the courtroom audience and is one of the best moments of the play. Her downfall is, of course, nothing less than heartbreaking.
The undeniable standout, however, is Anthony Cochrane as Cardinal Wolsey. His strength and confidence are a marvel through most of the play, but it’s his breakdown that is a true work of art. When you’ve got the Royal Shakespeare Company on your resume, I expect no less! A true Renaissance man, Cochrane is also the composer and sound designer, and here I have to praise the powerful use of music in this “Henry VIII.”
I wish I could say good things about Karen Peakes, who plays a modern-day favorite from the Tudor era, Anne Boleyn. Whereas, say, Genevieve Bujold and Natalie Dormer really brought Anne’s charm, wit, and magnetism to audiences, Peakes is stiff as wood. Charmless. A real disappointment. Is this because she is opposite her real-life husband? Well, apparently they’ve shared the stage over a dozen times before, so someone must think this is a good idea. I’m not one of them, though.
The show’s outstanding and effective set design (below) is another star. The traditional Tudor design of the theater takes on a slightly dark and gothic tone with the iron side “curtains” and simple cross serving as a powerful centerpiece on the back wall. The huge iron chandelier above is also used as an acting space. The costumes are equally impressive (and heavy!); a true treat for the eyes. Here’s a 4-minute video on Ian Merrill Peakes’ costume.
Before the play began, and during intermission, it was a nice treat to pop into the Great Hall, just outside the theater doors, for another look at the Golden Gospels of Henry VIII and the rest of the Vivat Rex! exhibit. A true evening with Henry VIII it was, thanks to the Folger Theater, Shakespeare, and well, John Fletcher!
* A few glimpses of the play can be seen in a video review at the bottom of this page, and in the official trailer.
* The cast gives an awesome summary of the play in under a minute here.
Look What They Found in Ye Olde Tudor Family Attic (Part 3)
Welcome to the final installment in the Vivat Rex! exhibit posts — I’ve realized that I’d been giving away a lot in these posts and don’t want to ruin the experience for anyone who can get to the Folger Shakespeare Library for this super spread. But I can’t resist mentioning a few more gems …
* A pre-Reformation case holds a little devotional book which Henry had given to Lord Protector Somerset, and which was then passed on to Mary I. She was lucky to have gotten it at all, as her fanatical brother (takes one to know one, I guess) had most books such as this destroyed. Under an illustration of the Blessed Virgin Mary is the queen’s careful, round handwriting: “Marye the quene Ave Maria.” Around these words, she drew a few simplistic crosses, with tiny dots at the tips. I found this touch endearing! (Photos of this piece are not allowed.)
* In the case regarding the king’s Great Matter (his obsessive need to give Cat of Aragon the boot because he was surely being punished by God for marrying his brother’s wife), there hangs a large letter from Cat to her nephew, Charles V. Charles was the Holy Roman Emperor (as well as being Charles I of Spain) and a huge proponent of nixing the Reformation, so part of her February 1531 letter was thanking him for having her back in this matter. Anyway, what struck me most about it was her chicken-scratch handwriting, complete with cross-outs and overwrites. I imagine stress and desperation had a lot to do with this; it was a bit painful to look at in that respect. (Again, photos not allowed.)
* In one of the “Break with Rome” cases, there is a prayer book (below; click for a larger image) that belonged to a Reformer. You can see that certain passages have been crossed out, and the word “pope” is scratched out (left page, sixth line down).
The gift shop at the rear of the exhibit hall is a treasure trove of Tudor-era goodies. Lots are geared toward Henry VIII specifically and range from the serious (such as David Starkey books, books on the Reformation, and informative DVDs) to the flat-out-fun (such as the “disappearing wives” mug, a House of Tudor board game, and a set of plush Christmas ornaments featuring the monarch and all his lovely maidens). It being the Folger Shakespeare Library, there are also lots of neat Shakespearean-themed gifts, including Elizabeth I items.
The docents’ desk at the entrance has great activity flyers for kids, such as a Tudor family tree with space for children to fill out their own tree. Hopefully they will not need to include family members who have been beheaded!
**Special thanks to docents Jennifer Newton and Michael Neuman for their time, assistance, and knowledge.
Look What They Found in Ye Olde Tudor Family Attic (Part 2)
I spent yesterday morning at our local mall, strolling beneath the tinsel and red baubles to the sounds of Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album. It’s only the first week of November! But I adore Christmas so I can’t complain, and I got a tiny bit of shopping done as well.
Who knows how long I’d have been there if my list were as long as Henry VIII’s from New Year’s Day 1539! (click for a larger view)
On display as part of the Vivat Rex! exhibition, the scroll is 8 1/2 foot long scroll and lists recipients from most to least important. In the top pic it is easy to see three “to” sections: The first is to “the Lorde Prince [Eddie],” the next is to “the Lady Mariee,” and finally ”to the Lady Elizabeth.”
Because of the wrinkle, it is difficult to see “to the Lady Margret Doughtles” after that, followed by the list of bishops. I’m able to make out “Canterbury,” “York,” “Lincoln,” and “London.” Maybe you can figure out more? The second pic (below) is the lower half of the scroll, and lists the goods for dukes and lords, earls, and duchess and countesses.
Near this scroll is a bittersweet spot in history, the account of another New Year’s Day, that of 1511. In Holinshed’s Chronicles, we see the whole shebang celebrating the birth of Henry and Cat of Aragon’s son, Prince Henry (who died nearly two months later).
The noted festivities included a pageant “glistening by night as though it had beene all of gold and set with stones” and jousts with “certeine lords apparelled, they and their horsses in cloth of gold and russet tinsell…Then came the king under a pauilion of cloth of gold and purple veluet embrodered, and powered with H. and K. of fine gold.”
The next post will wrap up the peek at this fine exhibit, including some chat about Catherine of Aragon’s letter to her nephew, and a Reformist vs. a Traditionist face-off in the pages of a Tudor-era prayer book.
