King Henry Viii Quotes

Jane," I said quietly. She opened her eyes, she had been far away in prayer. "Yes, Mary? Forgive me, I was praying." "If you go on flirting with the king with those sickly little smiles, one of us Boleyns is going to scratch your eyes out.

Of all losses, time is the most irrecuperable for it can never be redeemed.

Jonathon Matthew Pulmer you are not the boss of me. Now go prance your butt into your car and stop acting like King Henry VIII. The world does not revolve around you.” -Kylie

This is what you get when you found a political system on the family values of Henry VIII. At a point in the not-too-remote future, the stout heart of Queen Elizabeth II will cease to beat. At that precise moment, her firstborn son will become head of state, head of the armed forces, and head of the Church of England. In strict constitutional terms, this ought not to matter much. The English monarchy, as has been said, reigns but does not rule. From the aesthetic point of view it will matter a bit, because the prospect of a morose bat-eared and chinless man, prematurely aged, and with the most abysmal taste in royal consorts, is a distinctly lowering one.

Until the early middle years of the sixteenth century, when King Henry VIII began to quarrel with Rome about the dialectics of divorce and decapitation, a short and swift route to torture and death was the attempt to print the Bible in English. It’s

At six o'clok the young King's terrible sufferings finally ended. After his eyes had closed for the last time, the tempeste raged on. Later, superstitious folk claimed that Henry himself had sent it, and had risen from his grave in anger at the subversion of his will.

Who does not tremble when he considers how to deal with his wife For not only is he bound to love her but so to live with her that he may return her to God pure and without stain when God who gave shall demand His own again.

He embraced me before them all, and he cried: 'Let every man favor his own doctor. This Dr. Colet is the doctor for me....

Sir Thomas More (7 February 1478 – 6 July 1535), also known as Saint Thomas More, was an English lawyer, author, and statesman. During his lifetime he earned a reputation as a leading humanist scholar and occupied many public offices, including that of Lord Chancellor from 1529 to 1532. More coined the word "utopia", a name he gave to an ideal, imaginary island nation whose political system he described in a book published in 1516. He is chiefly remembered for his principled refusal to accept King Henry VIII's claim to be supreme head of the Church of England, a decision which ended his political career and led to his execution as a traitor. In 1935, four hundred years after his death, More was canonized in the Catholic Church by Pope Pius XI, and was later declared the patron saint of lawyers and statesmen. He shares his feast day, June 22 on the Catholic calendar of saints, with Saint John Fisher, the only Bishop during the English Reformation to maintain his allegiance to the Pope. More was added to the Anglican Churches' calendar of saints in 1980. Source: Wikipedia

a leading humanist scholar and occupied many public offices, including that of Lord Chancellor from 1529 to 1532. More coined the word "utopia", a name he gave to an ideal, imaginary island nation whose political system he described in a book published in 1516. He is chiefly remembered for his principled refusal to accept King Henry VIII's claim to be supreme head of the Church of England, a decision which ended his political career and led to his execution as a traitor. In 1935, four hundred years after his death, More was canonized in the Catholic Church by Pope Pius XI, and was later declared the patron saint of lawyers and statesmen

Jane would be the next queen and her children, when she had them, would be the next princes or princesses. Or she might wait, as the other queens had waited, every month, desperate to know that she had conceived, knowing each month that it did not happen that Henry's love wore a little thinner, that his patience grew a little shorter. Or Anne's curse of death in childbed, and death to her son, might come true. I did not envy Jane Seymour. I had seen two queens married to King Henry and neither of them had much joy of it.

T is better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow. King Henry VIII. II.3

News of the death of James V on 14 December gave even further cause for rejoicing, because his heir was a week-old girl, the infant Mary, Queen of Scots. Scotland would be subject to yet another weakening regency—it had endured six during the past 150 years—and should give no further trouble.

Marriage, despite the ability of King Henry VIII to achieve divorce twice, and the fact that clergymen could marry after the English Reformation, remained for life. Divorce was frowned upon and incredibly difficult to achieve in Protestant England.

Three portraits by Hans Holbein have for generations dictated the imagery of the epoch. The first shows King Henry VIII in all his swollen arrogance and finery. The second gives us Sir Thomas More, the ascetic scholar who seems willing to lay his life on a matter of principle. The third captures King Henry’s enforcer Sir Thomas Cromwell, a sallow and saturnine fellow calloused by the exercise of worldly power. The genius of Mantel’s prose lies in her reworking of this aesthetic: Look again at His Majesty and see if you do not detect something spoiled, effeminate, and insecure. Now scrutinize the face of More and notice the frigid, snobbish fanaticism that holds his dignity in place. As for Cromwell, this may be the visage of a ruthless bureaucrat, but it is the look of a man who has learned the hard way that books must be balanced, accounts settled, and zeal held firmly in check. By the end of the contest, there will be the beginnings of a serious country called England, which can debate temporal and spiritual affairs in its own language and which will vanquish Spain and give birth to Shakespeare and Marlowe and Milton.

ARE WOMEN INHERENTLY LESS WARLIKE THAN MEN? Throughout history, women in power have used a rationale similar to men’s to send men to death with similar frequency and in similar numbers. For example, the drink Bloody Mary was named after Mary Tudor (Queen Mary I), who burned 300 Protestants at the stake; when Henry VIII’s daughter, Elizabeth I, ascended to the throne, she mercilessly raped, burned, and pillaged Ireland at a time when Ireland was called the Isle of Saints and Scholars. When a Roman king died, his widow sent 80,000 men to their deaths.29 If Columbus was an exploiter, we must remember that Queen Isabella helped to send him.

Henry VIII, for example, who was king of England from 1509 to 1547, ended his days surrounded by a great many young people for the simple reason that he’d had most of his old courtiers exiled or executed. Between the years 1532 and 1540 alone, Henry ordered 330 political executions, probably more than any other ruler in British history. If you worked for Henry VIII, then you really didn’t need to worry about putting money into your pension fund as you probably wouldn’t live long enough to spend it.

good company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people.

How soon this mightiness meets misery; And if you can be merry then, I'll say A man may weep upon his wedding-day.

Be well advised what ye put in his head, for ye shall never pull it out again.

Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, He would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.

Queen Jane Seymour's epitaph, inscribed in Latin, translated roughly to: Here lies Jane, a phoenix Who died in giving another phoenix birth, Let her be mourned, for birds like these Are rare indeed.

Since mediaeval times, the King had been seen as two bodies in one: a mortal entity and “the King’s person,” representing unending royal authority; monarchs therefore referred to themselves in the plural form as “we.

The story was certainly current at court, and in 1535 a Member of Parliament, Sir George Throckmorton, accused Henry to his face of 'meddling' with both Anne's mother and sister Mary. 'Never with the mother,' Henry said.

When a fine old carpet is eaten by mice, the colors and patterns of what's left behind do not change,' wrote my neighbor and friend, the poet Jane Hirschfield, after she visited an old friend suffering from Alzheimer's disease in a nursing home. And so it was with my father. His mind did not melt evenly into undistinguishable lumps, like a dissolving sand castle. It was ravaged selectively, like Tintern Abbey, the Cistercian monastery in northern Wales suppressed in 1531 by King Henry VIII in his split with the Church of Rome. Tintern was turned over to a nobleman, its stained-glass windows smashed, its roof tiles taken up and relaid in village houses. Holy artifacts were sold to passing tourists. Religious statues turned up in nearby gardens. At least one interior wall was dismantled to build a pigsty. I've seen photographs of the remains that inspired Wordsworth: a Gothic skeleton, soaring and roofless, in a green hilly landscape. Grass grows in the transept. The vanished roof lets in light. The delicate stone tracery of its slim, arched quatrefoil windows opens onto green pastures where black-and-white cows graze. Its shape is beautiful, formal, and mysterious. After he developed dementia, my father was no longer useful to anybody. But in the shelter of his broken walls, my mother learned to balance her checkbook, and my heart melted and opened. Never would I wish upon my father the misery of his final years. But he was sacred in his ruin, and I took from it the shards that still sustain me.

A document from the reign of King Henry VIII described one of the two actual axes used for the beheadings.  The story was that the relic was displayed in the church; it gave both the church and the street their odd names.  In the early 1560s refugees from Spain used it as a place of worship but by then it was in a state of disrepair.  It was demolished shortly thereafter, taken down to the foundation.  Another building, the one which Thomas and Belinda Russell owned today, was built in 1620 on the ruins of the ancient church.

It is June 1527; well barbered and curled, tall and still trim from certain angles, and wearing white silk, the king makes his way to his wife's apartments. He moves in a perfumed cloud made of the essence of roses: as if he owns all the roses, owns all the summer nights.

Song When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. Sir Thomas Wyatt has been credited with introducing the Petrarchan sonnet into the English language. Wyatt's father had been one of Henry VII's Privy Councilors and remained a trusted adviser when Henry VIII came to the throne in 1509. Wyatt followed his father to court, but it seems the young poet may have fallen in love with the king’s mistress, Anne Boleyn. Their acquaintance is certain, although whether or not the two actually shared a romantic relationship remains unknown. But in his poetry, Wyatt called his mistress Anna and there do seem to be correspondences. For instance, this poem might well have been written about the King’s claim on Anne Boleyn:

Late in the 16th centurt, William Cecil's son, Thomas reortedthat Philip had said that 'whatever he suffered from Queen Elizabeth was the judgement of God because, being married to Queen Elizabeth, whom he though a most virtuous and good lady, yet in the fancy of love he could not affect her; but as for the Lady Elizabeth; he was enamored of her, being a fair and beautiful woman.

I have the body but of a weak, feeble woman,” she told her troops as the Spanish Armada sailed for home in 1588, “but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a king of England too.” Relishing opposites, the queen was constant only in her patriotism, her insistence on keeping ends within means, and her determination—a requirement for pivoting—never to be pinned down. 38 Her hopes for religion reflected this. Knowing the upheavals her country had undergone—Henry VIII’s expulsion of the pope from English Catholicism, the shift to strict Protestantism in Edward VI’s brief reign, the harsh reversion to Rome under Mary—Elizabeth wanted a single church with multiple ways of worship. There was, she pointed out, “only one Jesus Christ.” Why couldn’t there be different paths to Him? Theological quarrels were “trifles,” or, more tartly, “ropes of sand or sea-slime leading to the Moon.” 39 Until they affected national sovereignty. God’s church, under Elizabeth, would be staunchly English: whether “Catholic” or “Protestant” mattered less than loyalty. This was, in one sense, toleration, for the new queen cared little what her subjects believed. She would watch like a hawk, though, what they did. “Her Majesty seems to me incomparably more feared than her sister,” Feria warned Philip—which was saying something since that lady had been “bloody” Mary. “We have lost a kingdom,

He raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get this? Is our Anne Boleyn suddenly from Mars?" He chuckled. "I always thought she hailed from Wiltshire." Luce's mind raced to catch up. She was playing Anne Boleyn? She'd never read this play, but Daniel's costume suggested he was playing the king, Henry VIII. "Mr. Shakespeare-ah,Will-thought it would look good-" "Oh,Will did?" Daniel smirked, bot believing her at all but seeming not to care. It was strange to feel that she could do or say almost anything and Daniel would still find it charming. "You're a little bit mad, aren't you, Lucinda?" "I-well-" He brushed her cheek with the back of his finger. "I adore you." "I adore you,too." The words tumbled from her mouth,feeling so real and so true after the last few stammering lies. It was like letting out a long-held breath. "I've been thinking, thinking a lot,and I wanted to tell you that-that-" "Yes?" "The truth is that what I feel for you is...deeper than adoration." She pressed her hands over his heart. "I trust you. I trust your love. I know how strong it is,and how beautiful." Luce knew that she couldn't come right out and say what she really meant-she was supposed to be a different version of herself,and the other times,when Daniel had figured out who she was, where she'd come from,he'd clammed up immediately and told her to leave. But maybe if she chose her words carefully, Daniel would understand. "It may seem like sometimes I-I forgot what you mean to me and what I mean to you,but deep down...I know.I know because we are meant to be together.I love you, Daniel." Daniel looked shocked. "You-you love me?" "Of course." Luce almost laughed at how obvious it was-but then she remembered: She had no idea which moment from her past she'd walked into.Maybe in this lifetime they'd only exchanged coy glances. Daniel's chest rose and fell violently and his lower lip began to quiver. "I want you to come away with me," he said quickly.There was a desperate edge to his voice. Luce wanted to cry out Yes!, but something held her back.It was so easy to get lost in Daniel when his body was pressed so close to hers and she could feel the heat coming off his skin and the beating of his heart through his shirt.She felt she could tell him anything now-from how glorious it had felt to die in his arms in Versailles to how devastated she was now that she knew the scope of his suffering. But she held back: The girl he thought she was in this lifetime wouldn't talk about those things, wouldn't know them. Neither would Daniel. So when she finally opened her mouth,her voice faltered. Daniel put a finger over her lips. "Wait. Don't protest yet. Let me ask you properly.By and by, my love." He peeked out the cracked wardrobe door, toward the curtain.A cheer came from the stage.The audience roared with laughter and applause. Luce hadn't even realized the play had begun. "That's my entrance.I'll see you soon." He kissed her forehead,then dashed out and onto the stage.

Lucas de Heere’s painting from the 1570s, now at Sudeley Castle, its subject precisely Henry VIII’s family (see Plate 4). It is a portrait with no sense of chronology. The old king sits in full vigour on his throne, handing over his sword to an Edward who is well into his teens. On the king’s right hand is his elder daughter Mary, with the husband who by the 1570s was something of an embarrassing national memory, Philip II of Spain. While Philip and Mary are depicted with perfect fairness, and in what might be considered the position of honour, they yield in size and in body language to the star of the picture, Queen Elizabeth I, who upstages everyone else. The only figure as big as her is the lady whom she appears to be introducing to the gratified company, the personification of Peace. The message is clear: after all the upsets caused by her jovial but terrifying parent and her unsatisfactory siblings, Elizabeth is complacently pointing (literally) to her own achievement, a nation united in harmony.

Dželat mi prilazi i kaže: "Spustite glavu na panj i raširite ruke kad budete spremni, gospo." Poslušno spuštam ruke na panj i nespretno kleknem na travu. Osećam njen miris pod kolenima. Osećam bol u leđima i čujem krik galebova i nečiji plač. A onda odjednom, baš kad se spremim da spustim čelo na hrapavu površinu panja i raširim ruke da dam znak krvniku da može da udari, odjednom me preplavljuje talas radosti i žudnje za životom, i kažem: "Ne." Prekasno je, dželat je već zamahnuo sekirom iznad glave, vež je spušta, ali ja kažem: "Ne" i ustajem, pridržavajući se za panj da se osovim na noge. Osetim strahovit udarac na potiljku, ali gotovo nikakav bol. Silina udarca obara me na zemlju i ja ponavljam "Ne", i odjednom me obuzima buntovnički zanos. Ne pristajem na volju ludaka Henrija Tjudora, ne spuštam krotko glavu na panj i nikada to neću uraditi. Boriću se za svoj život i vičem "Ne!", pokušavajući da ustanem i "Ne", kad osetim novi udarac, "Ne" dok pužem po travi, a krv mi lipti iz rane na vratu i glavi i zaslepljuje me, ali ne guši moju radost u borbi za život iako mi on izmiče, i svedočenju, do poslednje g časa, o zlu koje Henri Tjudor nanosi meni i mojima. "Ne!", vičem. "Ne! Ne! Ne

Take the oft-repeated injunction to get “its” and “it’s” straight. Everyone claims it’s remarkably easy to remember that “its” is possessive and “it’s” is a contraction. But logic tells us that in English, ’s attached to a noun signals possession: the dog’s dish, the cat’s toy, the lexicographer’s cry. So if English is logical, and there are simple rules to follow, why doesn’t “it’s” signal possession? We know that ’s also signals a contraction, but we don’t have any problems with differentiating between “the dog’s dish” and “the dog’s sleeping”—why should we suddenly have problems with “it’s dish” and “it’s sleeping”? This type of grammar often completely ignores hundreds (and, in some cases, well over a thousand) years of established use in English. For “it’s,” the rule is certainly easy to memorize, but it also ignores the history of “its” and “it’s.” At one point in time, “it” was its own possessive pronoun: the 1611 King James Bible reads, “That which groweth of it owne accord…thou shalt not reape”; Shakespeare wrote in King Lear, “It had it head bit off by it young.” They weren’t the first: the possessive “it” goes back to the fifteenth century. But around the time that Shakespeare was shuffling off this mortal coil, the possessive “it” began appearing as “it’s.” We’re not sure why the change happened, but some commentators guess that it was because “it” didn’t appear to be its own possessive pronoun, like “his” and “her,” but rather a bare pronoun in need of that possessive marker given to nouns: ’s. Sometimes this possessive appeared without punctuation as “its.” But the possessive “it’s” grew in popularity through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries until it was the dominant form of the word. It even survived into the nineteenth century: you’ll find it in the letters of Thomas Jefferson and Jane Austen and the speechwriting notes of Abraham Lincoln. This would be relatively simple were it not for the fact that “it’s” was also occasionally used as a contraction for “it is” or “it has” (“and it’s come to pass,” Shakespeare wrote in Henry VIII, 1.2.63). Some grammarians noticed and complained—not that the possessive “it’s” and the contractive “it’s” were confusing, but that the contractive “it’s” was a misuse and mistake for the contraction “ ’tis,” which was the more standard contraction of “it is.” This was a war that the pedants lost: “ ’tis” waned while “it’s” waxed.

Unfortunately for Henry, Pope Clement VII was at the time imprisoned and under the direct control of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, who was Queen Catherine’s nephew and unsurprisingly was ardently opposed to Henry’s attempt to dissolve the marriage with his aunt. Henry was now compelled to ask Wolsey to effectuate a solution, and Wolsey obliged by convening an ecclesiastical court to resolve the annulment question. It remains unlikely that the papal legate ever was empowered by the Vatican to grant the annulment. The Pope rejected the authority of such a court to grant Henry his annulment and ruled that a decision would be given only in Rome, where Henry’s hand-picked jury could not pre-ordain a result in his favor. But before the Pope issued such a decision, Queen Catherine’s polite, respectful, formidable and defiant plea before the court secured for itself a place in the legends.  She played deftly the part of a woman wronged and scorned by a philandering, lying husband. It also earned Catherine permanent isolation from the King and her daughter Mary. Henry VIII’s means of extortion were that only if Catherine would accept that her marriage to the King was invalid, she might regain her access to Mary and vice versa. Both refused. Catherine died in 1536, probably of cancer.

England may have never come to exist were it not for this one man, and it is with good reason that Alfred is the only English king to be known as “the Great.”2 He fought off the Danes; he unified England (well, sort of); he helped found a common law for everyone; he built towns for the first time since the Romans left; he introduced a navy; and most of all, he encouraged education and the arts in a country just emerging from centuries of illiteracy. Having learned to read in adulthood, King Alfred personally translated Latin texts into English and was the only king to write anything before Henry VIII, and the only European ruler between the second and thirteenth centuries to write on the philosophy of kingship.

From Switzerland in the south, throughout central Europe and Germany, and as far north and west as England, where Henry VIII burned a dozen Anabaptists at the stake, thousands of men and women were subjected to the most terrible persecution. Many of the more moderate leaders who abjured violence were martyred, leaving a gap in the leadership that was often filled by men of little education but much passion.

I spent what seemed like hours listening to the mind-numbing details of life in Tudor England. The only fact that stays with me is King Henry VIII was definitely a serial killer. Several headless queens can vouch for that.

1534 Kildare Rebellion 1536–37 “Reformation Parliament” sits in Dublin 1541 “Act for the Kingly title” formally declares Henry VIII king of Ireland 1556 Plantations established in Irish midlands

Whereas Julian’s program failed and paganism came to nothing, Christian charity grew—expanding from local parishes to monasteries. By the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, monasteries had developed a harmonious system whereby the wealthy donated money for the care of the poor and the poor in return prayed for the souls of their benefactors. After the English Reformation, King Henry VIII’s suppression of the Catholic monasteries (1536, 1541) dealt a death blow to this equilibrium. His suppression affected not only the Catholic religious who worked and prayed in the monasteries, but also the poor who depended on the monks and nuns, creating a vacuum that needed to be filled. Edward and Elizabeth I filled that vacuum by enacting the Poor Laws, which taxed local parishes to provide for the poor. The Poor Laws were modified in the nineteenth century, and were eventually replaced by the modern welfare system during World War II.

(Henry VIII became king of England in 1509, Francois I became king of France in 1515,

From that day on there existed an animosity between the Britons (Welsh) and the papacy that was to ferment throughout the early to late Middle Ages, only to culminate in the eventual expulsion of the papal authority from the realm of England under King Henry VIII, who was significantly himself of Welsh Tudor stock.

She was only 24 years old when a crown was placed on her head, signifying the start of her reign as queen. Her father, Henry VIII, had served as king in a tumultuous rule that saw the beheading of not only Elizabeth’s mother, but of another of his wives as well. When Elizabeth attained her rightful place as queen, following the death of her half-sister, Queen Mary I, she made a purposeful decision to remain single. Despite multiple efforts by advisors from within and royal leaders from without to connect her in a marriage of political convenience, Elizabeth stood her ground. In fact, one time when Parliament was pushing yet again to persuade her to marry and bear an heir to the throne, Elizabeth replied in a stately manner, “I have already joined myself in marriage to a husband, namely, the kingdom of England.” Well aware of her personal convictions, power, and influence, and how those might be jeopardized by marriage, Elizabeth embraced not only her singleness, but also her celibacy. She is recorded as having said to Parliament, “It would please me best if, at the last, a marble stone shall record that this queen, having lived such and such a time, lived and died a virgin.

Coffee has long been a subject of controversy for humanity. King Charles II of England, Murad IV of the Ottoman Empire, and even Henry Ford have sought to banish coffee from their empires and enterprises, while Pope Clement VIII, Napoleon Bonaparte, and President John Adams championed the beverage.

No English monarch has treated those close to him with such ruthlessness as Henry VIII. The older he got, the more often he behaved like a petulant, self-obsessed teenager with a loaded revolver.

Swearing, drunkenness, “haunting bad houses,” fighting, and drawing graffiti—hugh penises were a favourite—on the palace walls were all punishable by warnings,

Only eight months had gone since Henry VIII of England had been suspended in death, there to lie like Mohammed’s coffin, hardly in the Church nor out of it, attended by his martyrs and the acidulous fivefold ghosts of his wives. King Francis of France, stranded by his neighbour’s death in the midst of a policy so advanced, so brilliant and so intricate that it should at last batter England to the ground, and be damned to the best legs in Europe—Francis, bereft of these sweet pleasures, dwindled and died likewise.

On any list of slam-dunk Christian classics, A Man for All Seasons would have something close to top billing. It’s the story of St. Thomas More, the great English lawyer and politician who refused to sacrifice his conscience in order to approve the divorce and remarriage of the king he served, Henry VIII. Barron has credited More’s life, and the 1966 film that captured it, with getting across three basic insights: We’re all responsible for upholding the rights of others; accepting one’s duties often leads to discomfort; and despite the second point, you don’t have to be gloomy about it.

More was condemned to the chopping block. His execution took place in 1535 at Tower Hill. His last words, as he stood on the scaffold, were “I die the king’s good servant but God’s first.” These words became so famous that they were made into a movie more than four centuries later. To this day no one can remember the last words of Henry VIII, and deservedly so.

One courtier noted that if the king began a sentence with the word ‘Well’, everyone knew that his mind was made up and it would be foolhardy to argue.14 Henry’s court, which had long been a dangerous place

This was an anthology of historical texts, many of which were drawn from Arthurian legend, which proved that the king, not the Pope, had the right to exercise supreme authority over all aspects of his realm.

As they consolidated their conquest, the sovereigns summoned Colón to Málaga. The Talavera commission’s conclusion did not surprise them but, as King João, they were reluctant to dismiss him entirely. Castile’s opportunities for overseas expansion were limited and, if they dismissed him, Colón might sail for another sovereign, including Henry VII of England, Charles VIII of France, or even João.

The king swore and broke his golden walking stick over his knee when he heard this news, especially as it was rumored that the concubine miscarried after eating a surfeit of comfits made with green ginger.

In the course of history, kings have welcomed more and more people to their courts, which became more and more brilliant. Is it not obvious that these courtiers and the "officers" were stolen from the feudal lords, who just lost at one fell swoop, their retinues and their administrators? The modern state nourishes a vast bureaucracy. Is not the corresponding decline in the staff of the employer patent to all? Putting the mass of the people to productive work makes possible at any given moment of technical advance the existence of a given number of non-producers. These non-producers will either be dispersed in a number of packets or concentrated in one immense body, according as the profits of productive work accrue to the social or to the political authorities. The requirement of Power, its tendency and its raison d'etre, is to concentrate them in its own service. To this task, it brings us so much ardour, instinctive rather than designed that in course of time it does to a natural death the social order which gave it birth. This tendency is due not to the form taken by any particular state but to the inner essence of Power, which is the inevitable assailant of the social authorities and sucks the very lifeblood. And the more vigorous a particular power is a more virile it is to the role of vampire. When it falls to weak hand, which gives aristocratic resistance a chance to organize itself, the state's revolutionary nature becomes for the time being effaced. This happens either because the forces of aristocracy opposed to the now enfeebled statocratic onslaught a barrier capable of checking it, or, more frequently, because they put a guard on their assailant, by laying hands on the apparatus which endangers them; they guarantee their own survival by installing themselves in the seat of government. This is exactly what did happen to the two epochs when the ideas of Montesquieu and Marx took shape. The counter-offensive of the social authorities cannot be understood unless it is realized that the process of destroying aristocracy goes hand in hand with a tendency in the opposite sense. The mighty are put down - if they are independent of the state; but simultaneously, a statocrcy is exalted, and the new statocrats do more than lay a collective hand on the social forces - they laid them on the lay them each his own hand; in this way, they divert them from Power and restore them again to society, in which thereafter the statocrats join forces, by reason of the similarity of their situations and interests, with the ancient aristocracies in retreat. Moreover, the statocratic acids, in so far as they break down the aristocratic molecules, do not make away with all the forces which they liberate. Part of them stays unappropriated, and furnishes new captains of society with the personnel necessary to the construction of new principates. In this way, the fission of the feudal cell at the height of the Middle Ages released the labour on which the merchant-drapers rose to wealth and political importance. So also in England, with a greed of Henry VIII had fallen on the ecclesiastical authorities to get from their wealth, the wherewithal to carry out his policies, the greater part of the monastic spoils, stuck to the fingers of hands, which had been held out to receive them. These spoils founded the fortunes of the nascent English capitalism. In this way, new hives are forever being built, in which lie hidden a new sort of energies; these will in time inspire the state to fresh orgies of covetousness. That is why the statocratic aggression seemed never to reach its logical conclusion - the complete atomization of society, which should contain henceforward nothing but isolated individuals whom the state alone rules and exploits.

It seems rather arbitrary. Why should one fellow sell potatoes on a street corner in Whitechapel while another wastes his days in a castle because his great-grandfather played cards and wenched with King Henry VIII?

A fast, seaworthy, very mobile diving boat with echo-sounder. Slack water for small area searches, but use fast tides and mobility of aqualung gear supported by small mobile diving boat to cover the large areas, especially in delimitation. Divers and boat handlers to be practised in working together; all divers to have practical underwater archaeological experience and to be well briefed for each separate wreck; land archaeologists with some understanding of the special problems to be carried in the boat whenever possible, and ultimately expected to dive. Basic assumption that the most important part of a wreck search is to go where there is no wreck, so that the characteristics of the natural seabed surrounding

The White Falcon by Stewart Stafford Trampled pomegranate underfoot, Fervent ascent of anatine steps, To the alabaster falcon's chamber, Viperine slither as a king's retinue. Roman breakage for a concubine, Stillbirths piled on a spiral staircase, Skewered tongues spitting smears, Spurious sparks fanned to an inferno. Denounced in the toxic public mind, Cast into a wolf pit by kangaroo court, Blood money to the Gallic executioner, Her headless ghost in a centuries' limbo. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.

Try me good king, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and judges… My last and only request shall be, that myself may only bear the burden of your grace’s displeasure, and that it may not touch the innocent souls of those poor gentlemen, whom (as I understand) are likewise in strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I have found favour in your sight; if ever the name of Anne Boleyn hath been pleasing in your ears, let me obtain this request. (A letter to King Henry   VIII from the Tower, attributed to Anne Boleyn)

Both Francis I and Henry VIII were avid mirror collectors and vain monarchs, and always competitive. During their meeting on the Cloth of Gold in 1521 a parade of wealth was displayed to ensure an alliance between France and England (and England’s safety). A later painting of this majestic occasion shows the two kings holding gloves, wearing flat caps decorated with feathers, badges and buttons, with parures – jewellery that matched their clothing. Henry’s codpiece is outlined by the rings on his index finger pointing towards it.

Henry VIII’s court was a place riddled with espionage, where nothing was quite what it seemed and people listened behind the walls, peeped at keyholes, and whispered in alcoves. Its inhabitants exhibited a bizarre and unsettling mixture of bone-chilling fear alongside obsequious, and often genuine, loyalty.

Catherine then made a curious request which could not be refused - she wanted to see the block that she would die on… She explained to her gaolers that she wanted the opportunity to practise ‘by way of experiment’, and she did so, over and over again, laying her slender neck into the wooden curvature.

She was escorted out into the chilly morning air and led to a scaffold that stood on the same site where Anne Boleyn had been executed.

> *where Anne Boleyn had been executed.* > > …*The stones beneath the altar were prised up. Jane Boleyn and Catherine Howard were buried quickly next to the mouldering remains of Lady Salisbury, Thomas More, Jane’s husband, and another queen of England…. The few attendees walked out of the little church into the courtyard, where the scaffold still stood. The body of Catherine Howard was left to a vast silence. In all probability, she had not yet reached her twenty-first birthday.

I'ma get medieval on your ass

He never lost an opportunity to proclaim “his zeal for the faith with all the resources of his mind and body,”23 and one of his gold chains bore the inscription PLUS TOST MORIR QUE CHANGER MA PENSEE (I prefer to die rather than change my mind).24

Templar. Periodically kings would try to bring land that had been carelessly alienated back into the royal portfolio. Henry VIII’s policy of recycling it all in a single (or double) tranche of dispossessions led to a new religion and a new phenomenon called the middle class; it saved the Tudor monarchy from bankruptcy, even if that policy is implicated in the outbreak of civil wars in the 1640s.

Remove the crown and the fine clothes, and you’re left with a fairly ordinary man.

a revised version of the Book of Common Prayer was authorised, which was to form the basis of the present Anglican liturgy; it was heavily influenced by the teachings of the Swiss reformer, Ulrich Zwingli, whom the King much admired. Meanwhile, numerous

De ce slăbești? De ce privești a jale? Fii mare-n fapte, cum ai fost în gânduri. Nu vază lumea că-ndoiala tristă Și frica stăpânesc un ochi de rege. Fii furtunos cu vremea, foc cu focul, Amenințând pe cine te amenință, Și-nfruntă chipul groazei ce-i făloasă. Așa, cei mici, împrumutând purtarea De la cei mari, vor fi prin pilda-ți mari Și plini de duhul dârz al hotărârii. 'Nainte! Fii strălucitor ca Marte Când este gata a păși-n război; Arată-avânt și-ncredere ne-nfrântă. Ce? Vor să cerce leu-n vizuină? Să-l sperie? Să-l facă a tremura? Să nu se zică asta. Sari și-aleargă Spre-a-ntâmpina restriștea de la porți Și a lupta cu ea cât nu-i pe-aproape.

Henry VIII owned more than eight hundred carpets,

Story tells us of a nobleman of our nation, in King Henry VIII.’s reign, to whom a pardon was sent a few hours before he should have been beheaded, which, being not at all expected by him, did so transport him that he died for joy.

it is not the king’s deed but the deed of Crumwell, and if we had him here we would crum him and crum him so that he was never so crummed’ (a play on words of Cromwell’s name),

Henry had arranged for her to go to ‘Jericho’, a house he leased from St Lawrence’s Priory at Blackmore in Essex; it was a house with a poor reputation, where the King maintained a private suite.

England's King Henry VIII initially opposed Luther, but he rejected Catholicism in 1534 after the pope refused to allow him to divorce his wife, Catherine ofAragon.

consumption that had accounted for his father, his elder brother and his bastard son, and which was soon to carry off his legitimate son, King Edward VI.

In Protestant countries, the Reformation removed the anointing (and the excommunicating) of secular rulers from the jurisdiction of Rome. The doctrine of the divine right of kings was invented to enable kings to be anointed by bishops they had themselves appointed, rather than by appointees of the Pope. The interests of national kings and their peoples were certainly closer than those of popes or emperors. But however much the interest of kings and their peoples might seem close at a time of national peril—as at the time of the Spanish Armada—at other times they might be in the harshest conflict, with ensuing revolutions and civil wars. The national Church of England, established by Henry VIII's break with Rome, had as its most fundamental doctrine that of passive obedience to the king, under all circumstances and at any cost. But such a doctrine could not survive the contingency of the King himself becoming Catholic. In the Glorious Revolution of 1689, the Church of England itself was converted from the divine right of kings to popular sovereignty, exercised in and through the Parliament.

The Reformation became notorious for two fat men. The first, Martin Luther, we have already met. The second, King Henry VIII of England.

In February 1544, a new Act of Succession modified the one of 1536 that had settled the Crown on the children of Henry VIII and Jane Seymour. Edward was still first in line to the throne, of course, followed by any children the King might have with Katharine Parr. A significant change in the Act was that Mary was back in the picture, as was Elizabeth – though both were still considered illegitimate.

Francis asked his sister Margaret, Duchess of Alençon, to do the honours in her place, but she flatly refused to meet ‘the King of England’s whore’.