A Sad Turning Point

In 1502, a young man called Arthur died of the sweating sickness. He was the Prince of Wales and was due to be King on the death of his father, Henry VII. Sadly, his brother became heir to the throne, despite being as unworthy of kingship as you could imagine, as Henry VIII and proceeded to wreak havoc upon England.

I have never understood the appeal of this evil human being. Henry VIII was directly responsible for the deaths of two women, the looting of religious places and the murder of their inhabitants and the setting up of a church based wholly on the fact that he had gone off with another woman. That act led, indirectly, to another century or more of murder under Kings and Queens alike, fighting for their chosen religion. There was not a single redeeming feature about him as King and his reign was one of the most calamitous in history. When I go to Royal palaces I am baffled to see his likeness as a Christmas tree ornament. Who sees it and thinks, ‘You know what? I am going to celebrate the birth of Jesus by putting a representation of the most ungodly monarch in the history of the British Isles on display!’

I have detested the man since I first learned about him in Primary school. He was so cruel to his wives that I couldn’t understand why everyone else didn’t hate him. This, in a nutshell, is my problem with the British view of history. If you are a ‘character’ you can get away with pretty much anything. How much better would the country and our history have been if he had stayed as the spare and lived his unpleasant life in well merited obscurity? Well, it certainly couldn’t have been any worse. So, let’s go back to 1502 and erase the sad early death of Prince Arthur from history.