The Love Letters of Henry VIII: Part 1

Background:
In the spring of 1527, Henry VIII began questioning the validity of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon. Always the theologian, the king turned to Leviticus as proof of his unnatural union. Scripture conveniently stated that anyone who married his brother’s wife would have no children. Bingo. Henry had done just that by marrying Catherine, his brother Arthur's widow and now he desperately needed an heir. So Henry sent his minions running off to Rome to seek a divorce from Catherine in what had become the King’s ‘Great Matter.’ Yet somewhere between guilt and the desire for a do-over, Henry met the enigmatic Anne Boleyn and decided to make her his queen.

Why Snoop?
The 17 love letters from Henry to Anne span two very different time periods in their courtship. They begin with the heady first days of infatuation to the tender promises of two betrothed lovers. Unfortunately, the letters are undated leaving historians to grapple with the most important question of all – when did their affair begin? This question leads to a far weightier question: Did Henry seek a divorce from Catherine of Aragon to ease his conscience and secure an heir? Or was Henry’s burning desire to extricate himself from his marriage influenced by the burning desire in his nether regions?

If we assign an earlier date to the letters, Anne becomes the catalyst that ended Henry’s marriage and the impetus behind the whole English Reformation – surely a heavy cross to bear. If we assign a later date to the letters than Henry’s motive to divorce Catherine lies in his own troubled conscience and his even more troublesome need for an heir to protect the future of England. Antonia Fraser, Eric Ives, and Alison Weir believe Henry first noticed Anne at Shrovetide in 1526 and the love letters soon followed. Starkey believes the affair could have started as early as 1525. Who is right? And even if the affair did begin in 1525, how much did Anne influence Henry to begin divorce proceeding? I will be exploring all theories in the next posts.

How we got the letters
The love letters resurfaced in the 17th century in the Vatican Archives probably stolen from Anne’s residence at Hever Castle. The letters do contain several clues as to when they were written, but how they are numbered does not. When they first came to the Vatican, some disgruntled archivist took the thin velum and transferred them to Parchment and numbered them in either random order or the order in which they were found. Throughout the next week’s posts, I will be referencing the letters by their numbers, but keep in mind that this is not the order in which they were written.

Where are Anne's letters?
The letters are also very one-sided because none of Anne's letters to Henry have survived. Most likely, Henry destroyed her letters, along with her portraits, when he ceased to need mementos of their affair. Henry could have also destroyed the letters as soon as they were read because the rules of courtly love deemed it indiscreet to save love letters. (It was especially tacky if the love letters were not from your wife.) But considering that Henry hated to write letters, we are lucky to have any relics of his love affair with the mysterious Brunet.

Stay tuned for next post on who stole the letters.

Art Note: Picture of Henry VIII's writing desk from the Victoria and Albert Museum

Royal Monkey Business

I’ve been thoroughly enjoying the binge drinking monkeys over at Got Medieval, but why should the medieval revelers have all the fun? You can find plenty of monkey antics in royal courts too.

For example, take the Medici court. Despite their reputation as the omnipotent godfathers of Florence, they loved a good monkey prank just as much as the next person. Some of this monkey business can be found in the following account describing a scuffle between the Medici court’s favorite dwarf, Pietro Barbino (possibly depicted in the this statue) and a ferocious monkey:

“There was a bit of entertainment in the form of a combat between the dwarf and a really good monkey that belongs to the Provveditore.The dwarf had two injuries, one in the shoulder and the other in the arm, while the monkey was left with his legs crippled. The monkey eventually gave up and begged the dwarf for mercy. The dwarf, however, didn’t understand the monkey’s language and having seized the monkey by the legs from behind, kept beating his head on the ground. If My Lord the Duke [Cosimo I de’ Medici] hadn’t stepped in, the dwarf would have gone on to kill him. The dwarf fought naked, having nothing to protect him except a pair of undershorts that covered his private parts. Suffice it to say that the dwarf was the victor and he won ten scudi in gold, which had been secured by pledging the ring of the Bishop of Forlì [Bernardo de’ Medici].”
Archivio di Stato di Firenze, Mediceo del Principato 1171, insert 2, folio 62 (Entry 6488 in the "Documentary Sources" database.)

When was the last time you saw a naked dwarf wrestle an angry monkey? If Cosimo had not stepped in…all my scudi would have been on the naked dwarf. And what if the monkey had put up a better fight? Well then we might not ever appreciate this great piece of art immortalizing Pietro Barbino flashing his bits in the Boboli gardens. Monkeys can change the course of history.

Monkey Portraits
And like the medieval monkeys (which btw would be a great name for a children’s book), royal monkeys were also portrayed in art. Pet monkeys were the hairless dogs of their day. Only the rich could afford them in their menagerie so they became regal status symbols. They also gave a lighthearted feel to a painting and could more directly symbolize controling your monkey lust. The painting to the left is of Catherine of Aragon and is believed to have been commissioned around 1530. An earlier painting depicting the same subject is dated at 1525. Around this time, Henry VIII started to monkey around (sorry...couldn't resist) with Anne Boleyn and began seeking a divorce from Catherine. This divorce would eventually lead to his break from the Catholic Church.

Notice how the monkey grabs at the cross. Could the monkey symbolize Henry? Is the artist saying, “Henry's a silly monkey to go against the Catholic religion” Or maybe the monkey symbolizes Anne Boleyn and the artist is saying, “you’re a fool to play with religion. And btw, you look like a monkey.”

Anne did hate monkeys so my guess is on the latter.

Love Me...Love my Monkey
In Catherine the Great's court, every courtier fought for an audience with the young, foppish favorite of the queen - Plato Zubov. Zubov was an audacious 22 to Catherine's 60, but age didn't matter much to the ailing queen. Catherine trusted Zubov enough to handle the political dredgery of meeting with generals, foreigners and royal butt kissers in search of favors. Yet royal courtiers best hold on to their wigs if they sought a meeting with Catherine's studly gatekeeper. Zubov's monkey was known to amuse both himself and his master by jumping on shoulders and stealing wigs right off the heads of unsuspecting visitors. The eager courtiers were forced to endure, but everyone knows that there is nothing funny about a monkey stealing your wig.

I am sure there are plenty more monkey tales, but those are the ones that stick out in my mind.

Sources and Further Reading:
The Medici Archive Project. Referenced online at: http://www.medici.org/news/dom/dom012002.html
MacDonogh Katherine. Reigning Cats and Dogs. New York, NY: St. Martin's Press, 1999.
Troyant, Henri. Catherine the Great. New York, NY: Penguin Group 1994

Royal Bitches: How Dogs Ruled the Palace

Throughout history, kings and queens have often shown their dogs far greater love and affection than their spouses or children. Here are just a few examples where dogs ruled.


Dogs first, People Second
Frederick the Great showed little attraction toward women and had no children. His beloved greyhounds were his real babies. His dogs had free reign of the palace including their own gallery where they could run amuck tearing the furniture to shreds and pooping in every corner. Frederick even erected a magnificent white marble mausoleum to his greyhounds after their death with plans for his own tomb to lie between them. His blatantly, ignored wife, Elizabeth Christine, could only hope for such honors.

Queen Victoria is famous for being "amused" by her dogs, but not so much by her children. To punish her grandson, George V, for his poor table manners, Victoria commanded him to eat under the table like a dog. In an effort to emulate the canine competitor for his mother's affections, George proceeded to remove all his clothing so that he could be (like a dog) unburdened by clothing in his punishment. It doesn’t take a psychologist to discern that Victoria’s children may have felt that they came in second place. Her own emotions toward those bundles of joy were expressed when she said of her babies,

'til they have become a little human; an ugly baby is a very nasty object...and the prettiest is frightful when undressed...as long as they have their big body and little limbs and that terrible frog-like action.' ¹

Perhaps if her babies had been born with fur than her affections may have been different.

Peter the Great was also not much of a family man except when it came to his dogs. He showed little remorse after locking his sisters up in a nunnery and murdering his son, but his beloved dog, Finette was by his side every second of the day.

Dogs in the Bedroom
Dogs were often afforded luxuries that pandering courtiers could only hope for, including coveted access to the monarch’s bedchamber. Peter the Great’s miniature greyhounds slept in his bed sharing vermin and covers.

Catherine the Great’s boudoir was overrun with her husband, Peter’s 8-10 hunting dogs. She complained in her letters of the stench and the little presents they left on her pillow in the form of dog poop.

Napoleon was forced to share his bed with Josephine’s beloved pug, Fortune. During the Revolution, Fortune aided his mistress during her imprisonment in Carmes. The pugnacious pug smuggled secret messages hidden in his collar to Josephine’s children. Later, Napoleon would have to compete for Josephine’s affections with her loyal dog and complained,

‘As if a pretty woman could give up her routine, her friends, her Madame Tallien or a dinner-party at Barras’ house and the performance of a new play of Fortune, yes! Fortune! You love them all more than your husband…’ ²

Fortune put the jealous husband in his place by biting him on the leg.

Doctors in the Tudor age even prescribed putting a dog in bed with their monarch as the cure for stomach cramps. These dogs were called “comforters.” A puppy as a cure may sound like quack medicine, but you could actually view it as the forerunner of the hot water bottle. I personally would take a warm puppy over a hot water bottle or heated pad any day.


Throughout the 16th –19th century, dogs also controlled vermin in the palace and bedroom. (Cats had a hard time finding work because they were considered vermin themselves.) Louis XI took great pride in watching his mice-catching dogs working while he lay in his bed. Queen Victoria had a legendary rat catcher – a Dachshund named Dackel.

Even more important than vermin controllers and bed companions, dogs also protected their owners while they slept. In 1549, the power-hungry Thomas Seymour was planning to marry Princess Elizabeth I and kidnap his nephew, King Edward VI (son of Henry VIII). When Seymour crept into the king's bedchamber, Edward’s loyal guard dog barked furiously alerting his master of his uncle’s evil intentions. Seymour silenced the yapping dog by shooting him dead, but the guards had already been alerted in the melee. Edward might have even pardoned Seymour for his silly rouse, but killing his favorite guard dog was unforgivable. Thomas Seymour lost his head on Tower Green two months later in 1549.

Marie Antoinette’s spaniel Thisbee also slept in her room to alert her of intruders. Thisbee accompanied the family after they were transferred to the Temple. What became of the dog is still unknown.

Dogs at the Dinner table
Louis XIV fed his dogs personally with biscuits baked by his pastry cook. Queen Victoria’s dogs often shared the dining table with her guests. Prince Albert’s favorite greyhound, Eos ate with a fork like a true regal dog.

The painting to the left may look like a typical medieval banquet with rambunctious dogs climbing all over the table, but these dogs were actually food tasters, called chiens-gouteurs. If the dog didn’t die from the royal fare than everyone went ahead and enjoyed their meal. Can you picture it?…”ahh my dog appears to be still breathing. Everyone eat up.”

Dogs in the Stateroom
Dogs could also change the course of politics. Pope Clement VII did not share history’s fondness for the greyhound. Legend has it that Clement was ready to sign Henry’s divorce papers until the English envoy’s greyhound knocked over the stool supporting the pope’s gouty foot. Screaming like Andy Rooney on a rant, the ornery Clement abruptly refused to discuss Henry’s divorce.

Peter the Great forbid any petitions to be presented to him under pain of death. When a courtier was sentenced to the knot, Peter’s wife, Catherine, had the poor man’s petition presented to Peter by attaching it to the collar of the Czar’s favorite dog, Finette. The industrious Catherine knew that only an appeal from Peter’s dog would be granted.

Dogs as Accessories
We may balk at Hollywood’s trend to carry a dog around like a matching pocketbook, but queens were the first to invent the dog accessory. Royalty often got so attached to their lap dogs that they were literally joined at the hip. Mary Queen of Scot’s executioners was certainly surprised to find her small, Maltese hiding under her skirts after she was beheaded. The dogs of Versailles were taught to carry the noble ladies’ long trains. Not to be undone in the fashion department, dogs also wore regal coats and were heavily perfumed as to not offend delicate noses. And here is a trend that should surely come back amongst Hollywood’s pop princesses….doggy earrings. The poor pooch in this picture of Henriette Anne of England is wearing bright red dangly ones.

Without a doubt, these pampered pets ruled the palace. I have always had the belief that how people treat their pets is very indicative of their true nature. If you are interested in more information about dogs and cats in royal society then I highly recommend MacDonough's Reigning Cats and Dogs. MacDonough's work provides an intriguing look into the courts of some of our most raucous royals illustrated from the perspective of how they interacted with their pets.

Stay tuned for next week when cats get their say on how they ruled.

Source Notes:
(1) p. 120. Farquhar, Michael. A Treasury of Royal Scandal. New York, NY: Penguin Books, 2001
(2)p. 180. MacDonogh Katherine. Reigning Cats and Dogs. New York, NY: St. Martin's Press, 1999.