Henry VIII

By Wendy J Dunn

Lesson 4: Entirely Beloved. Henry VIII and Jane Seymour

Send us a Prince

On 27 May 1537, Trinity Sunday, there was a Te Deum sung in St Paul's cathedral for joy at the queen's quickening of her child, my lord chancellor, lord privy seal and various other lords and bishops being then present; the mayor and aldermen with the best guilds of the city being there in their liveries, all giving laud and praise to God for joy about it. The bishop of Worcester, Dr Latimer, made an oration before all the lords and commons after the Te Deum was sung, explaining the reason for their assembly, which oration was marvelously fruitful to the hearers. And also the same night various great fires were made in London, with a hogshead of wine at every fire for the poor people to drink as long as it lasted. I pray Jesus, if it be his will, to send us a prince. (Primary material recorded by Edward Hall)

This segment discusses Jane Seymour's death.

During the last weeks of October, 1537 England witnessed two very unusual events in the reign of Henry VIII: the birth of a living prince and the death of a woman Henry VIII still called wife. Within days of Henry gaining his heart’s desire of a royal son, the Tudor court plunged from joy to grief: England’s Prince had been born at the cost of England’s Queen.

Jane Seymour laboured two days and three nights before bringing forth Henry's son. Just as prayers were being said for her safe deliverance,(1) the boy-child, in triumph, was laid in her arms. Legend has it that the boy – to be called Edward for his grandfather Edward V (2)– had been born via caesarean section. Even gypsy folk songs tell this story:

He gave her rich caudle

But the death-sleep slept she

Then her right side was opened

And the babe was set free

The babe it was christened

And put out and nursed

While the royal Queen Jane

She lay cold in the dust.(3)

Rationally, we know these lyrics to be untrue. Times were just too primitive for a woman to survive that kind of operation. Cutting open a mother generally only happened when a mother died whilst labouring, in desperate hope of saving the child. But Jane Seymour still lived twelve days after her son’s birth, although now dying. On the twelfth day after Edward’s birth, Jane – with so little time to enjoy the glory of being the woman to give Henry’s his heir – died of ‘childbed’ fever – the killer of so many new mothers in this period.

I suspect the legend of Jane’s caesarean probably came about because of court rumours spreading like Chinese whispers about what actually happened in the birthing chamber. When her attendants started to panic that her long labour would fail to result in a living birth, they may have interfered with what was best left alone.

‘Childbed fever’ or puerperal sepsis resulted from poor hygiene – rife during this period. Because touching introduced germs, the best protection for a labouring woman was to be left ‘internally’ alone, so nature could take its course. Indeed, the less handling a woman received during childbirth the better.

But – of course – if a woman was experiencing difficulties, there was more likelihood that her ‘birthing’ attendants would attempt internal explorations. That only put women at risk of death. Was this what happened to Jane? That people caring for her fussed too much, and therefore caused her death? Interestingly, Jane herself blamed her ‘carers’ when she realised that her feet trod the path to a certain death, saying that they had allowed her to catch cold and fed her the wrong things. (4)

Jane’s time as Queen lasted less than eighteen months. At her death, the court had to be reminded of the rusty rituals of burying a Queen. Remember – both Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, despite their elaborate coronations, died stripped by Henry VIII of this rank.

Demonstrating the importance placed in the rituals of coronation, Mary and Elizabeth’s rights to succeed their father were strengthened through the coronations of their mothers, whilst Edward’s claim, although no doubt superior due to his male sex, was weakened via his mother's lack of being a crowned Queen. (5)

In the eyes of many, Anne Boleyn and Catherine of Aragon never quite lost their Queen status because their coronations involved inherent rituals that can never be undone. But in Henry’s eyes, the last Queen of England to be buried had been his own mother – Elizabeth of York. She had died like Jane, contracting ‘Childbed’ fever, but after the birth of her sixth child, not her first. Jane may have missed out on her hoped for coronation, but she ensured herself a funeral fit for a Queen by giving the King his most wanted son.

(1)Antonia Fraser; Henry VIII and his Wives; page 277

(2)ditto

(3)Antonia Fraser; Work Cited; page 278

(4)Antonia Fraser; Work Cited; page 280

(5)Antonia Fraser; Work Cited; page 339

Reference:

Henry VIII and his Wives, by Antonia Fraser. Although many books will be referred to during this course, Henry VIII and his Wives will be used as the main 'text.' Written in a very readable manner, this book is a very sensitive account of the six women who became the consorts of Bluff King Hal. Antonia Fraser's research is always excellent.

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Lessons

Lesson 1: Setting the Tudor Stage.
Lesson 2: Loyal Heart: Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon.
Lesson 3: Without Male Heir. Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn
Lesson 4: Entirely Beloved. Henry VIII and Jane Seymour
• Send us a Prince
Lesson 5: My Sister, My Wife. Henry VIII and Anne of Cleves.
Lesson 6: The Blushing Rose Without a Thorn. Henry VIII and Katherine Howard.
Lesson 7: Surviving Henry. Henry VIII and Katherine Parr.
Lesson 8: The Legacy of Henry and his Wives.