The most interesting feature of the concluding chapter goes beyond Schofield’s actual research, and thus beyond the reign of Henry VIII. He contends that, in the reign of Elizabeth I, the value of the assessments declined in both nominal and thus significantly in real terms, with the increased inflation of the later Price Revolution era. Furthermore, tax collections under Elizabeth ranged from just 25% to 51% of independent assessment valuations, compared to an average of 68% under Henry VIII. The chief cause of this discrepancy was a grossly unfair under-assessment of the peerage and upper classes, from “a combination of personal self-interest and the exigencies of patronage politics” that “conspired to undermine the directly assessed subsidy as a viable form of taxation under the later Tudors” (p. 217). If most historians consider Elizabeth to have been the much more enlightened monarch, Schofield contends that, in terms at least of parliamentary taxation, Henry VIII’s reign was the most remarkable of all the Tudors — and Stuarts — “for its sophistication and attention to the principle of distributive justice” — in essence, for its fairness; and that indeed his system of direct subsidies “was several centuries ahead of its time,” with this very short-lived partnership between a more enlightened upper class and the crown. Subsequently, Schofield observes (p. 201), “direct assessment was to be abandoned again in the mid seventeenth century, after decades of complaints over evasion and under-assessments [of upper-class incomes], and would not be revived until the very end of the eighteenth century,” during the Napoleonic Wars, and then only very briefly. The modern income tax was reintroduced, now on a permanent basis, only in 1842, with the Tory regime of Robert Peel: at the modest and flat rate of 7d per pound sterling, or 2.92%. A progressive income tax, on Henry VIII’s 1513 model, would not be achieved in Britain until the early twentieth century.
Does anyone else love bad weather? Like the kind that’s loud and dark and draws attention to its self like pounding rain drops and thunder and lightning that seems just so close. And you can sit near a window and it’s dark outside and maybe you’ve got a candle lit or a lamp and it’s so warm inside and you’re wearing you’re favourite sweater and watching a good show or reading a good book and it’s beautiful outside the rain and the clouds and the sound of it all and you’re just so content and cosy and happy
So like, I’ve talked about precedence of the WOTR in regards to Henry VIII, also civil war vs. succession in general, but something I haven’t touched on (and that I haven’t seen touched on, actually) is his desire for haste in the annulment possibly having something to do with the close precedence of the heir in question upon Edward IV’s death.
Henry knew he wasn’t immortal, obviously, and the last time an heir was left before they reached their majority (Edward V…Henry himself if you want to get really technical; but I’m gonna call 17-almost-18 a ‘close enough’) and a Lord Protector was left for them…that heir had not gone on to have a long reign.
With only a daughter by KOA in 1527, and with others questioning her legitimacy as well, it really wasn’t in his best interest to just…keep on as things were.
Given that there had been royal annulments granted by the Pope before (even one in which the couple had been married for nearly 23 years; and there had been at least thirteen such annulments granted by the Pope for royal marriages before 1533, some in which the couple had issue); Henry didn’t have much reason to believe the process would take as long as it did (at the very least, not before the Sack of Rome). Ideally, he probably imagined that the annulment would go through by 1529 at the latest, that he would marry Anne in 1529 by the latest. His first child by another woman (Bessie Blount) had been a son; due to this he maybe hoped that Anne would give birth to a prince by 1530. And then, hopefully, Henry wouldn’t die until his son had reached majority– or very close to it.
As history went, that dream remained an “AU”– but, if it had gone that way and Henry had died in 1547, his son would have inherited the throne at 17…just as Henry himself had.