Love, Marriage, and Probability of Murder
If you live in the United States, your odds of being murdered are approximately 1 in 18,989. The odds of being murdered by your spouse? Three times as high.
But, if you were to find yourself married to England’s King Henry VIII, your odds of landing on the literal chopping block would be exactly 1 in 3.
History books remember Henry VIII for a multitude of accomplishments, including establishing the Royal Navy, being the father of Queen Lizzy the First, and renouncing the papal authority of Rome to jumpstart the Church of England. But what most of us remember him for is his torrid and tumultuous love life.
The man got around, to say the least. Aside from his numerous mistresses, he was married six times. To six different women. Three of whom were named Catherine. ::wheew:: [under breath: Cate Blanchett should consider herself lucky.]
The Many Wives of King Henry VIII
There was Catherine of Aragon, whose daughter, Queen Mary, had a particular fondness for burning religious dissenters throughout her five-year reign on the throne, earning her the title of “Bloody Mary” and forever endearing herself to the hearts of alcoholic middle-aged women everywhere. There was Catherine Howard, and Catherine Parr. He even married Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman ::papers rustle:: Wait, no…guess he married a different Jane Seymour.
Then there were the Annes. Anne of Cleves was the fourth wife of King Henry, but the marriage only lasted six months and was never consummated…which may be a bloody good indication of why it only lasted six months.
But the story of true love—emphasis on story—lies in King Henry’s marriage to his second wife, Anne Boleyn.
Anne Boleyn: From Fairytale to Fall
Their romance plays out like any gilded fairytale of yore. Anne’s sister Mary was married to a member of Henry’s court and, shortly thereafter, began an illicit affair with the King, presumably because it was Tuesday, or some such nonsense. Eventually, Anne joined the queen’s court as a maid-of-honor to Queen Catherine, the wife of King Henry—the guy who was sleeping with her sister.
Sniffing out a potential two-fer deal with the Boleyn sisters, Henry soon set his sights on Anne and made advances for her affection. Anne, however, refused to be his mistress, which did not sit well with the king accustomed to getting what he wanted. ::sigh:: God bless the royalty.
The Need for a Son (and a New Wife)
King Henry was obsessed with producing a legitimate male heir. While Catherine had conceived a number of children, five of them were stillborn or died shortly after birth, leaving double-vodka-shot Bloody Mary as the only living child of the marriage. This produced a predicament—either Henry had to acknowledge one of his illegitimate sons, or he had to find a new wife of child-bearing age who could produce a son. And, wouldn’t you know, King Henry had just the woman picked out!
The plan was hatched to annul his marriage with Catherine of Aragon, but it wasn’t exactly an easy process. Henry became convinced that Catherine had produced no living male heirs because their marriage was “blighted in the eyes of God” due to Henry having taken his brother’s wife.
Oh, did we mention that Catherine of Aragon was also King Henry’s sister-in-law? Yeah. Henry’s brother Arthur married Catherine when he was 15 and she 16. Then Arthur decided to be a complete rube and die, leaving the teenage Catherine as a widow… which is when Henry swooped in and scooped her up.
“Fine, I’ll Start My Own Church!”
Henry spent six years on this process, pleading, then demanding, that the Pope grant an annulment of the marriage, all the while Anne’s like, “No means no.” Eventually, King Henry VIII broke with the Catholic Church, set up his own church—ta-da! Church of England!—kicked Catherine out of the castle, moved Anne into her chambers, got his cronies in his newly-formed church to annul his marriage, and voila! Henry and Anne were married, she was crowned queen, and they lived happily ever after!!!
But not for long.
Anne’s Tragedy
Anne’s uterus absolutely refused to make a boy baby. Anne’s first child was Queen Elizabeth the First, which is honestly a really weird title to give a child, especially since some historians believe that Queen Elizabeth the Second was present at her birth. This was a hard blow for Henry, who had been assured by all of the royal physicians and astrologers that Anne was carrying a boy. But, no matter—Anne was pregnant again within two months! ::in Borat:: High five!
Sadly, though, Elizabeth would be the only living child of Anne Boleyn. Though she and Henry conceived several more children, their lives ended in miscarriage and stillbirth. The once-happy king and queen who had hoped so desperately for a son, were left heartbroken and angry.
But not for long.
Off With Her Head
Henry, who was already boning Dr. Qui—uh, Jane Seymour (who was also one of his wife’s maids-of-honor), decided that he had been beguiled by spells and magic to marry Anne Boleyn. Rather than go through the headache of a divorce, Henry opted instead to accuse Anne of adultery and treason and had her locked in the Tower of London. He then set up a kangaroo court to find his wife guilty and hand down the penalty of execution, and he even had a special executioner brought in from France ahead of time just to do the honors.
On the morning of May 19, 1536—two years, 11 months, and 19 days since being crowned queen consort of England—Anne Boleyn was led up the scaffold in the Tower of London, accompanied by guards and weeping servants. By all contemporary accounts, the queen was composed and dignified. After bidding her tearful servants goodbye, she turned to the crowd of spectators and delivered a moving and compassionate speech in which she prayed for health and long life for her husband the king.
Then, kneeling in steadfast resolution, she held her head high for the executioner. With one swift blow of the sharpened sword, Anne Boleyn’s severed head fell from her shoulders.
Her Final Poem: “O Death Rock Me Asleep”
Though she maintained her innocence til the end, Anne was resigned to the certain fate which laid before her. In what are believed to be her last written words, she penned the poem “O Death Rock Me Asleep” while imprisoned in the Tower of London—words which bear a haunting sorrow and, at the same time, a peaceful calm.
O Death Rock Me Asleep
O death! rock me asleep,
Bring me the quiet rest;
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast:
Toll on the passing bell,
Ring out the doleful knell,
Let thy sound my death tell,
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.My pains who can express?
Alas! they are so strong,
My dolour will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong:
Toll on, thou passing bell,
Ring out my doleful knell,
Let thy sound my death tell,
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.Alone in prison strong,
I wait my destiny,
Woe worth this cruel hap that I
Should taste this misery?
Toll on, thou passing bell,
Let thy sound my death tell,
Death doth draw nigh,
There is no remedy.Farewell my pleasures past,
Welcome my present pain!
I feel my torments so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now, thou passing bell;
Rung is my doleful knell,
For the sound my death doth tell,
Death doth draw nigh,
There is no remedy.
Anne Boleyn was laid to rest in an unmarked grave beneath the parish within the Tower of London, a blight her husband would have much rather forget, but a figure who still lives on these centuries hence.
A Legacy Written in Blood and Song
Some claim that Henry VIII was genuinely remorseful for having his wife executed on what were presumably false charges. But, a few years later when it was confirmed that Henry’s fifth wife, Catherine Howard, was having an affair with a courtier, she, too, was beheaded at her husband’s direction.
Six marriages, two executed wives, numerous mistresses, many miscarriages and infant deaths… it’s difficult to find much evidence of love and joy in the life of King Henry VIII.
But the legacy of Anne Boleyn still shines through the annals of time. Some say that King Henry wrote it before his marriage to Anne while he was still pining for her affection, while others claim it was a poem of repentance after her execution. The reality is most likely that it was written decades after her death, and while the lyrics could potentially have multiple cultural connotations within 16th-century England, I prefer to think of “Greensleeves” as an everlasting testament to the queen in the emerald dress.
Greensleeves
Alas, my love, you do me wrong,
To cast me off discourteously.
For I have loved you well and long,
Delighting in your company.Your vows you’ve broken, like my heart,
Oh, why did you so enrapture me?
Now I remain in a world apart
But my heart remains in captivity.I have been ready at your hand,
To grant whatever you would crave,
I have both wagered life and land,
Your love and good-will for to have.If you intend thus to disdain,
It does the more enrapture me,
And even so, I still remain
A lover in captivity.My men were clothed all in green,
And they did ever wait on thee;
All this was gallant to be seen,
And yet thou wouldst not love me.Thou couldst desire no earthly thing,
but still thou hadst it readily.
Thy music still to play and sing;
And yet thou wouldst not love me.Well, I will pray to God on high,
that thou my constancy mayst see,
And that yet once before I die,
Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.Ah, Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,
To God I pray to prosper thee,
For I am still thy lover true,
Come once again and love me.Greensleeves was all my joy
Greensleeves was my delight,
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but my lady greensleeves.
