7th September 1533 | Anne Boleyn gives birth to Elizabeth
At 3 O’clock in the afternoon, on this day in 1533, Anne Boleyn gave birth to Princess Elizabeth at Greenwich. The jousts that Henry VIII had planned to commemorate the birth of his son were cancelled as the birth of princesses did not warrant a large public celebration, but aherald immediately proclaimed this first of Henry’s legitimate children, while the choristers of the Chapel Royal sang the Te Deum. The circular letters prepared before the birth by the royal clerks, announcing the deliverance and bringing forth of a Prince were amended to read Princes.
Elizabeth was not the male heir that Henry and Anne had hoped for, but the consolation was that she was healthy and had a full head of Tudor red hair. So the royal couple put on a brave face, as they had no reason to fear that sons would not follow. It is reported that when Henry visited his wife after the birth and Anne expressed disappointment at the sex of their child, Henry responded by saying that they were both still young and by God’s grace, boys will follow.
At the time, apart from upset at the baby’s sex, many people were simply relieved that the Queen had not only had a fairly easy delivery, but that she had lived through it at all.
Given how close Elizabeth had been born to one of the great festivals of the Virgin, it would have been expected for the baby princess to receive the baptismal name of Mary. However, the King already had a daughter with that name, from his first marriage. With that union’s annulment, Mary Tudor had lost the title of princess, and there were rumours in the Spanish Embassy that the new Queen planned to christen her daughter Mary, anyway, in the hope that the new Princess Mary would utterly eclipse the old one in the public’s mind. As with so many of the Spanish-started rumours about Anne Boleyn, this story was groundless, for there doesn’t seem to have been any hesitation on either the King or the Queen’s part in naming their new daughter, Elizabeth. It was the most logical name to go for: both the King and the Queen had mothers with that name. And so it was probably as a mutual maternal tribute that Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn selected the name for the baby that was destined to be their only child together and thus christened the girl who would arguably become the single most famous woman in her country’s history. (x | x)
Some claim that Henry continued the affair with Blount even after she married; but I find this highly unlikely. In a conversation on this topic with @lucreziaborgia; she made the great point that the majority of Henry’s known mistresses whose dates we can pinpoint (Blount, Sheldon, Jane Seymour, Katherine Howard, and Anne Boleyn– although the labeling of her as ‘mistress’ is perhaps not altogether fitting, given her recognition at court and by ambassadors as the king’s betrothed) were not married (or, for that matter, widowed– although that seemed less an issue in wives in the case of the wife potential of Christina of Denmark and the eventual marriage to Katherine Parr…we all know what a fuss was eventually made over KoA being his brother’s widow) during their relationships with him. The only possible exception to this is Mary Boleyn, but it may well be that her affair with Henry occurred before the Carey marriage as well; as she was in England for at least a year (and somewhere around the marriageable age of 18/19 in that year) before that marriage. The author of The Mistresses of Henry VIII, states that, in general, “when a [king’s] mistress married a courtier, it was usually a sign that the relationship was over.”
Due to this, I am examining the veracity of this claim:
“Thefactthat Henry offered no direct financial support to his former mistress is an indication of his indifference to those who no longer contributed to his pleasure.”
…based on the deduction that Henry’s relationship with Blount ended, at the latest, by 1522 (the year of her marriage).
In TheTudors; Henry doesn’t speak to Bessie Blount after visiting her, one last time, after the birth of Henry Fitzroy. His only interest is in their son, and their son’s welfare, rather than hers. In other words, he certainly does “discard her” (in Tudors, she’s also inaccurately already married when she gives birth to Fitzroy) as soon as he no longer wants her as mistress.
Historic record, again, does not reflect this fiction as a reality. But then, their Henry is selfish to the last, and a consummate philanderer besides– the first season focuses on the ‘lecherous’ aspect of the “blood-stained lecher” (again, another narrative that is due to the AOTD effect).
The marriage, in itself, was a sort of financial support to Henry’s former mistress, which is something missing from Tudors. As the heir to a barony, Tailboys outranked Blount.
“Tailboys was a member of Wolsey’s household and the cardinal may have had a hand in arranging the match. Henry does seem to have had a hand in it, as the marriage settlement put all income and property from Bessie to remain with her if her husband died, and then go to her heirs – it did not, as it often would, go to the Tailboys family on her death.”
Again, I say– so much for a pattern of “[offering] no direct financial support to his former mistress”; or a precedent of “indifference to those who no longer contributed to his pleasure.”
Shortly after the marriage of Tailboys and Blount, in June 1522, Henry VIII issued a grant for a manor and the town of Rokeby, Warwickshire. Significantly, the grant specified that it was onlyGilbert and Bessie’s issuethat could inherit this property first, so the argument that Henry only cared for his own issue, rather than his former mistress or any of her issue by another man, can not be made in this instance.
There is no evidence that suggests Henry was “indifferent” to Blount’s children that weren’t his, or Blount herself after his romantic relationship with her was over. Given the evidence, the claim that he only cared about her welfare because of her connection to his son/maternity of Henry Fitzroy is significantly weakened by the evidence of Henry issuing a grant to Blount a year after Fitzroy’s death.
When he was 16 “and not yet into his majority, an Act of Parliament was passed to put him in possession of his estates and enable him to settle a jointure (a provision for a wife after the death of her husband) on his wife”.
Here is the evidence regarding the daughter of Gilbert and Bessie, Elizabeth Tailboys:
“Henry VIII visited Elizabeth and her husband at Nocton on his northern progress in 1541. Elizabeth inherited the Tailboys estates after her brothers George and Robert died, and she was thus the fourth Baroness Tailboys of Kyme. Her husband, a member of the gentry, petitioned to have himself be named as Lord Tailboys; however, with a bad relationship with her husband, Elizabeth wanted the title for herself and Henry VIII ruled in favour of his former mistress’s daughter. His judges agreed that as long as the marriage was childless, Thomas could not have his wife’s titles.”
And now, for the speculated-mistress– Jane Popincourt.
Firstly, we have no definitive proof on the matter of whether Popincourt was actually ever Henry’s mistress. The evidence that tends to link the two is his parting gift of £100 to her.
But to play devil’s advocate against the quote; if Jane had been his mistress– well, a parting gift of 100 pounds in 1516 (equal to the pension given to Dr. Butts after Anne Boleyn recovered from the Sweat under his care, equal to the annual pension he gave Mary Boleyn after her husband died, and 70 pounds greater than the annual salary paid to Hans Holbein) certainly doesn’t suggest “indifference to those who no longer contributed to his pleasure”. Popincourt was leaving for France; so had there been an affair it certainly wasn’t going to be continued by telepathy!
To state that Henry’s“indifference to those who no longer contributed to his pleasure” was well-established and evident by 1528 is something that is easy to believe after consuming Tudor fiction. It’s a common narrative, and I think that’s why it’s so readily accepted and so easily believed. It confirms our preconceived notions about Henry VIII; and any opinions we may have given that we do have the benefit of hindsight. However, it is not a statement that holds up against the evidence available before 1528.
My hope is that, for anyone that might have read this series; my summation and analysis of the evidence might get people to question this narrative a little more. During my own research for this series, I certainly began to question not only the narrative itself, but why it used to be one I so readily believed.
I believe it is because Tudor fiction has a bigger impact on us than we may realize, but I’m curious to hear anyone’s thoughts on the matter– feel free to let me know in reblogs or replies.