Education, Employment and Family

Sherlolly

Songs

Rain and Sunshine

Henry VIII Verses Charles II

I've been considering Henry the VIII a lot lately. Specifically comparing him to his 3rd great nephew Charles the II. I have contemplated who was worse to be married to. Obviously Henry wins due to executing two of his wives. Still I found my conclusion to be remarkable. Why? Because Henry tried to be a "good man." He wanted to be viewed as a moral and godly example for the English nation and he attempted to maintain that image for the entirety of his life. He failed there of course. MAJORLY. Yet why is that the case?

Henry was the second son of Henry the VII. Meaning, he was not raised as the heir to the throne. He was raised to be the religious one. At that time, in England that meant to be a devout Catholic. On one hand, he took this very seriously and devoted much time to religious study. On the other hand, he liked hefty amounts of feasting, sex and sports. Despite these excessive pursuits as a young man he was still viewed as a "Defender of the faith.' Indeed Pope Leo X had declared him thus due to his book proclaiming papal supremacy. Henry hated Martin Luther and all protestants for his whole life. Yes, even after his notorious break with Rome he considered himself Catholic to his dying day. As King, he HAD the power to divorce his first wife. He broke with Rome because divorcing his wife was a SIN, but an annulment granted by the Pope was not considered sinful. A fair share of monarchs had put aside their spouses this way for decades. Yes, divorce was taboo, but ending marriages was not. The Pope likely would have granted the annulment if the King of Spain hadn't threatened his life. The King of Spain who just so happened to be the brother of Henry's unwanted wife. Oh the drama! It was important to Henry to be moral. It was important to Henry to have a legitimate son to be his heir. A girl would not be sufficient. The patriarchal imperative must be upheld in an the ideal church blessed son. He denied all of his sickly illegitimate sons. Yet would later adore is sickly legitimate one. Anne Boleyn had to die. She had failed to give him a son, and worst of all their cursed marriage had jeopardized his soul. In his mind, framing her for adultery was justified. She was a witch. A witch he loved enough to give her a merciful beheading. His next beheaded wife wasn't so lucky. She had actually committed adultery and he wanted to forgive her, but he had already set the precedent that adultery was treason and treason meant death. Henry was a romantic and believed in love at first sight. So when his soon to be fourth wife didn't recognize him in disguise he felt it couldn't be true love. That and he thought she was ugly. Such a charming fellow. His sixth and final wife's main fault was that she was a protestant who believed in reading her bible. Henry was very upset by the growth of protestant practice within his personal branch of Catholicism, and almost had her beheaded, but then he remembered women shouldn't be taken seriously, and instead threatened the men who tattled on her. Probably one of the nicest things he ever did. Another nice thing he did was legitimize his two daughters. Some guess he did it out of guilt for beheading and or isolating to death their Mothers. He had a conscience. He considered himself to be a devout man.

Then there is Charles the II. The King who loved to party, and did not hide it. The King who was raised in Catholic France, but gave that up to be a protestant King, because why? Money, fame, and partying! He was not faithful to his wife, and not subtle about it. He was not interested in love or the opinion of the church. He is quoted to say he was interested in women only for their bodies and not their minds. He said this when one of his mistresses went insane, likely from venereal disease that he probably gave her. While he never tried to legitimize his many illegitimate kids. He also never denied them and gave them titles and wealth. He had no interest in divorcing his childless wife. He didn't care about not having his own heir. From what I can tell, he had no interest in Religion at all, until his painful deathbed where he is said to have converted to, did you guess? Catholicism. A life of selfish indulgence and yet he was a better man than the religious Henry the VIII.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/people/henry_viii/
http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/tudor-england/henrys-divorce-from-catherine/
http://royalcentral.co.uk/historic/why-did-henry-viii-seek-an-annulment-of-his-marriage-to-catherine-of-aragon-2-28373
http://englishhistory.net/tudor/anne-of-cleves-and-henry-viii-marriage/
http://englishhistory.net/tudor/monarchs/katharine-parr/
http://englishhistory.net/tudor/monarchs/catherine-howard/
http://www.anglicancatholic.org.uk/about-the-anglican-catholic-church/
http://www.englishmonarchs.co.uk/stuart_33.html
http://www.historytoday.com/tim-harris/charles-ii-reality-behind-merry-monarchy
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WS8TIrt1s2M
http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/letters/rear-window-the-merry-protestant-who-died-a-catholic-a-royal-conversion-1407235.html

The steps

A few years ago, I was living in my parents basement with my kids. At the time all of us were extremely raw and emotional, but i did my best to always be there for my kids and help them with whatever they needed. This was difficult at times because they became very demanding, and on one such occasion we were walking down the basement steps. Both my kids were whining at me.
"Pick me up!" They cried.
I told them I couldn't safely carry both of them down the stairs. I had to hold the railing for safety sake, and since neither would relinquish their claim to my arm neither would be carried. Still they pleaded and begged and grabbed at my legs. My son was irate I was holding my daughter's hand, and not his.
"Let's all just hold the railing." I ordered a quarter of the way down the stairs.
My daughter being only a toddler, at the time, instead decided to jump up and down next to the open side of the stairs Mommy instincts took over and I scooped her up with my left arm, but her jumping antics did not stop. She refused to hold onto me and instead bounced and flailed like a fish on land. Meanwhile Elisha's fury overloaded and tears burst from his eyes as he sat on the steps at my feet blocking my path, and tripping me up.
"Get up!" I shouted. "You'll make me fall! My daughter hold onto me I can't hold you like this!"
My son moved farther down the steps weeping and wailing the whole way. My daughter would hold on for no more than a few seconds before I needed to remind her yet again, with each reminder my son would beg to be held too.
"You don't love me!' He sobbed once again sitting at my feet grabbing at my leg.
At this point I began to cry, and I pleaded.
"Children I'm so tired. Please be good. I'm going to get hurt if you keep doing this. Please hold onto me. Please hold the railing. I love you all very much but please-"
I managed a few more steps before my son tripped me up again. Now both of them were screaming and shouting so loud I couldn't hear or feel anything, but distress. My son grabbed my right arm nearly pulling me over. Picking him up seemed like my only option and with so few steps left I could manage, so long as they stopped  screaming and flailing, and I informed them as much when I placed my son in my right arm.
"You need to stop flailing and screaming. Be good to your Mama!"
I took one step, with the two wild things being relatively calm. I could do it, and this nightmare would be over soon, but the easy step brought confidence to my kids. They both began to bounce and scream and cheer, because being held by Mom is a great place to start a chicken fight right? My strength was failing me emotional and physical exhaustion was taking its toll. If I dropped my kids I could keep my balance, but what would happen to them? Maybe just my son? Impossible, he unlike my daughter gripped onto me like a weighty boa constrictor. I just had to keep balanced and either sit down or get down the stairs safely. Above all, I didn't want my kids to get hurt.
"Be good to Mama! Be still So I can sit down." I pleaded.
They erupted with laughter. My daughter held out her arms like Hallelujah, and my son shook me like a rag doll. That was it. That was the moment I had nightmares about come true. I fell forward through the air and down. My feet must of hit the last two steps before pushing me outward onto the cold cement floor. I never let go of the kids. They didn't stop laughing. I had landed on my crumpled legs. My kids cheered. I cried.
"Are you alright? Are you alright?" I asked both of them.
They were fine except bewildered frowns went across their faces.
"Why are you crying Mama?" Asked my son.
I explained that falling down the steps hurts. They in turn responded skeptically. After all they had fallen and no such pain happened for them. So off they went on their merry way. Meanwhile, I couldn't stand, and instead sat in my pain. Nothing was broken, but I had a hard time untwisting my legs. Tears streamed down my face. Eventually my children acknowledged I must actually be in pain since I didn't immediately respond to their demands to alight the basement room. Still the reality didn't sink in for them until they saw my shins in the morning light. Black, blue and purple from my knee nearly all the way down, and on one foot as well. It didn't go away in a day or two, but for good long weeks there were remnants. From that day on, my children held onto the railing.

Son Lux collaboration through hearing: The Art Assignment