Every Tudor at the National Portrait Gallery Part 1 - Henry VIII and More (An In-Depth Museum Tour)

These people loved drama. I'm Jessica, the museum guide, and today I'm here at the newly reopened National Portrait Gallery. We're focusing on the most popular gallery in the entire museum, the Tudors, and we're going to have a look at every single painting. This is part one, so be sure to subscribe so that you get notified about part two coming soon. Do you love delving into Tudor history and learning all about the sordid tales of Henry the Eighth and his six wives, not to mention political intrigue and religious reformation? Well then this is the video for you. Through these legendary portraits, I'm going to explore and explain the history of the Tudor period. Our video today is part one of the Tudor Gallery at the newly reopened National Portrait Gallery. After a five-year closure and massive renovation, the museum reopened in late June, and I couldn't wait to film the entire thing for you...until I got there. My God, I couldn't believe how dense and rich each room is. A good walkthrough would be a five-hour video at least. So instead, I've decided to narrow my scope and focus solely on the Tudor Gallery and show you every single portrait in this room, some of which are flashing on your screen right now. They're all equally fascinating and important, so this is going to be a two-parter. In the future, I do plan to do a top 10 video of the must-see paintings in the entire National Portrait Gallery, so please let me know in the comments section which portraits you think I need to include. Remember, I offer private tours of the National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery, and I would love to show you around. My contact details are below. If you enjoyed this video, I'm always grateful when my viewers support my channel. You can do this by liking, commenting, and subscribing, or by becoming a member, or even leaving me a tip on PayPal, or buying me a coffee. The details are below. Part two will pick up where this video leaves off. We will explore the turbulent times after the death of Henry VIII, including the reigns of his three children, Edward VI, Mary I, and Elizabeth I. But for now, let's get started at this massive canvas, which hangs at the entryway to the gallery. This large canvas details the family of Sir Thomas More, a staunch Catholic still venerated by the Roman Church today. He was the Lord Chancellor for Henry VIII from 1529 to 1532. However, More was on the opposing side of those who were attempting to solve the quote great matter, that is, how Henry could divorce his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, so he could marry Anne Boleyn and produce male heirs. While More agreed to put up with Anne Boleyn as Queen, he openly resisted the idea of breaking England away from the Catholic Church. Now More's open disapproval was an affront to Henry, who wanted everyone to openly and willingly accept both his divorce and his new religious role. It was especially painful because Henry trusted the learned and intellectual Thomas, and they were great friends. Ironically, More himself was responsible for many investigations that led to the deaths of heretics, but he too would find himself in the same position. In 1534 he was arrested and taken to the Bell Tower in the Tower of London, and kept in increasingly small rooms without his beloved books. He was put on trial and found guilty of high treason and was sentenced to death. However, he was spared the grisly and lengthy execution usually reserved for treasonists, which was to be hanged, drawn and quartered, and he was instead beheaded at Tower Hill on 6 July 1535. His body was buried at the Tower Chapel, but his head was placed on a spike on London Bridge. This group portrait was probably commissioned by Thomas More II, his grandson, and it depicts the staunchly Roman Catholic More family over five generations, across more than 60 years. It's a bit of a mishmash of a painting, as painter Roland Lockie copied seven of the figures from Holbein's group portrait Sir Thomas More and His Family and Household, which was destroyed in the 18th century. Four of the remaining figures were painted from life, and others from memorial lockets. It's a monumental and fitting portrait to start our exploration of the Tudor Room, connected to the history and pivotal events that shaped the monarchy and the church to this day. This lovely painting, dating to 1510, depicts Lady Margaret Beaufort, the mother of Henry VII, and a shrewd political mind in her own right. Margaret is a complex and fascinating character, playing a major role in the Wars of the Roses, and single-handedly ensuring that her son would ascend to the throne. Born in 1433, she herself had a tenuous claim to the throne. She was the daughter and sole heiress of John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, a legitimized grandson of John of Gaunt, 1st Duke of Lancaster, 3rd surviving son of King Edward III. As a result of her status and large inheritance, her hand in marriage was politically sought after, and she was married off to John de la Pole, 2nd Duke of Suffolk, when she was seven or eight. This was a purely political marriage, with no physical aspect. The marriage was annulled, and she was then married to Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richard, and half-brother to King Henry VI in 1455, when she was just eleven or twelve. She soon gave birth to her son Henry at Pembroke Castle in 1457, three months after her husband's death from the plague, and when she was just thirteen years old. As she was not yet physically mature, the birth was extremely difficult and traumatic. She was not able to have any more children as a result. Let's pause for a moment here, because a lot of people think that it was common to marry and consummate marriages at this time in history at an age as young as Elizabeth's, and that's simply not true. Yes, girls as young as eight, nine, even younger, were married. The husband would agree to wait until the girls' mid-teens to take her to the marriage bed, and that didn't happen with Margaret, and it's horrible to think about. She was married again at fifteen, and spent her life manoeuvring her son through the minefields of the Wars of the Roses, keeping him safe on the continent as she married politically once more, and ultimately helped him secure the crown after his decisive victory over King Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth Field. Here we see her in her later life, painted by Maynard Waywick. This is after she had taken a vow of chastity, despite still being married, and dedicated her life to prayer and scholarship. She actually founded two colleges at Cambridge University, and was a major patron of the arts and a cultural benefactor. Margaret Beaufort died at age sixty-six, and is entombed at Westminster Abbey. Now with this painting, and the next, we're not quite in the Tudor period, but we're close. This is Henry VI, and this portrait was probably paired alongside the portrait of Edward IV as examples of warring kings. Henry VI was a child king, and the final Lancastrian monarch. He was also King of England twice, from 1422 to 1461, and then again from 1470 to 1471, and he was also the disputed King of France from 1422 to 1453, the only English monarch to have been crowned King of France. He was Henry V's only child, and ascended to the throne at the age of nine months, shortly after his father's death. He inherited the nasty Hundred Years' War, and his uncle, Charles VII of France, contested his claim to the French throne. While he was still a child, a council ruled the country for him, but by the time he was declared fit to rule in 1437, the country was plagued with problems, and England risked losing France. Henry VI is described as shy and timid, and also averse to warfare and violence, bless him, but he was also mentally unstable at times. After trying to broker peace with France, he married Charles VII's niece, the strong-willed Margaret of Anjou. However, this peace failed, and by 1453, Calais was the only remaining territory on the continent. And that's not even taking into consideration the Wars of the Roses, which sees the English crown bouncing back and forth between different branches of the family for generations. The same year, Henry had a mental breakdown, and Richard, Duke of York, was made protector, lending to his validity to take the throne. By 1461, Edward IV seizes the throne, and even though wily Margaret continued to lead a resistance against him, Edward's forces captured Henry in 1465, and imprisoned him in the Tower. After a number of battles, in 1470, Henry was restored to the throne, but Edward retook power in 1471, talk about whiplash! Edward killed Henry's only son and heir apparent, Edward of Westminster, in battle, and imprisoned Henry once again in, where else, the Tower of London. Having quote, lost his wits, his two kingdoms, and his only son, Henry died in the Tower in 1471, possibly killed on the orders of King Edward IV. Let's move on to this portrait of Richard III, which is a good segue for speaking about Edward IV's two sons, Edward V, as well as spare Richard of Shrewsbury, XII and IX, respectively. We don't have any portraits of them here at the National Portrait Gallery, for good reason. These portraits that you're seeing were painted sometimes hundreds of years after their disappearance. Edward V did technically ascend to the throne when his father died, but he was never crowned, and that's because, we believe, his kind and caring uncle, Richard III, had the two boys tucked away safely in the Tower of London, and they lived happily ever after. Wait, no, that's not it at all. The two boys were never seen or heard from again, and it's believed that Richard III ordered for them to be murdered so he could seize the crown. The princes in the Tower have become a fundamental part of royal lore. Of course, this is all circumstantial, and we really don't know what happened to them… yet. Because a few centuries later, in 1674, workmen at the Tower discovered a wooden box containing two small skeletons. Many believe that these bones are likely those of the young princes, but of course, we simply don't know. King Charles II had these bones buried in Westminster Abbey, where they remain, and monarchs have been reluctant to have them disturbed and tested. Other old child's bones have also been discovered, which could equally be the princes. Maybe Charles III will do us old royal crime junkies a favour and agree to have them DNA-tested. But let's get back to wicked Uncle Richard. This portrait portrays him as a cunning and cruel figure, and it is likely a 16th century copy of a portrait painted during his lifetime, with a few selected tweaks designed to make him look more cold and calculating. Remember, history, and portraits, are decided by the winners. Richard's posthumous reputation was shaped by Tudor attitudes towards him. First we have Thomas More's History of King Richard III, where he does not come out looking too good, and then by William Shakespeare's depiction of Richard III as a devious and power-hungry ruler with a penchant for manipulation. In various paintings and descriptions, Richard is depicted with a hunchback, scoliosis, and other physical disabilities. Now remember, during this time in history, having a physical disability was considered a sign of moral turpitude, so you have to think about what was the benefit for people spreading rumours like this, or was it true? In this portrait, his eyes are sunken in his head, brooding and quite stressed, and far more haggard than his 32 years. His half-smile makes him look scheming, and one shoulder is raised to possibly exaggerate his disability. Even his fingers, where he toys with a ring, potentially to indicate his readiness to remarry after the death of his wife Anne Neville, are sharpened almost to a point. And what better way to depict someone as evil and cruel than by doctoring up their portraits after they have died? We also see this happen with Anne Boleyn after her death. While described as quite sexy and handsome during her lifetime, she was later depicted with a goiter on her neck and a sixth finger, all supposed signs of witchcraft, but we'll come back to Anne a bit later. It's also worth noting that there has always been a vocal minority of Richard's supporters who champion his innocence. In the second portrait here, we can see that he looks far more amenable, even kind. His broken sword represents his personal defeat in battle and the subjugation of the royal houses of York, painting him as a sympathetic figure, not a conniving one. So who was the real Richard III? Just remember, all of the known portraits of Richard III were completed after his death. However, one of the earliest portraits, dating from around 1510, might be his closest likeness. According to his DNA, he likely had blue eyes and possibly even blonde hair, but did he actually have a hunched back, or was this just an Elizabethan smear campaign? Well, we actually now know a lot about his anatomy. That's because his body, long believed to have been thrown into the River Soar at Leicester when Henry VIII demanded the dissolution of Greyfriars Church, was discovered in a car park of all places back in 2012. Let me know if you'd like a video about the discovery of Richard III's body at Leicester Cathedral, where it is interred today. Examinations by forensic archaeologists have determined that Richard III wasn't a hunchback, nor would he have had a limp or even a withered arm. Instead, he had adolescent onset scoliosis, a sideways twist in the spine. This wouldn't have been very noticeable when meeting him, although one of his shoulders may have been a bit higher than the other, as the portrait portrays. See, you always have to be wary of propaganda, but that doesn't mean he didn't order the murder of his nephews. Now here we are at our first official Tudor monarch, Henry VII. This is actually the earliest painting in the National Portrait Gallery's collection. According to the inscription, it was painted on 29 October 1505 for the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I, likely as part of an unsuccessful marriage proposal between Henry and Maximilian's daughter, Margaret of Savoy. As I detailed when talking about his mother, even though his blood claim to the English throne was actually quite weak, it did flow through both sides of his family tree, which you can see in all of its complicated glory here on the screen right now. Instead, Henry's ascendancy to the throne was due to a battlefield victory, which brought an end to the Wars of the Roses. Therefore, Henry really understood the importance of a legitimate heir, and he was lucky to have an heir and a spare, his sons Arthur and Henry, not to mention his daughters Margaret and Mary, with Elizabeth of York, who was the daughter of Edward IV, thus cementing the bonds between the Yorks and the Lancasters. When he died, after nearly 24 years of rule, he passed his crown peacefully to his second son, Henry VIII. But before we move on to talk about that infamous king, we need to talk about what happened to Henry VII's eldest son, Arthur, and Arthur's widow, Catherine of Aragon. When Arthur, Prince of Wales, was just three years old, Henry VII arranged for him to be betrothed to the daughter of Catholic monarchs, Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon, to form a strong Anglo-Spanish alliance against France. It was agreed that Arthur and Catherine should be married as soon as they reached canonical age, around fourteen, but a special papal dispensation allowed them to be officially married in February 1497, when they were both just eleven. They exchanged letters in Latin for years, and finally met for the first time in 1501, when they were just fifteen. Their marriage ceremony took place at St. Paul's Cathedral, followed by the official bedding ceremony, where she was undressed and veiled, and presented to Arthur on a bed. After the Bishop of London blessed the bed, he left them alone, but later Catherine would claim that the marriage was never consummated. Less than six months later, Arthur tragically passed away, likely from sweating sickness. His father ruled for eight more years, before leaving the throne to younger brother Henry. And here he is, with his wife, Catherine of Aragon. Yes, you heard that correctly. Henry VIII's first wife was his brother Arthur's widow. How was that allowed? Well, first, let's talk about these portraits. These portraits were never really intended to be a matching set, but they were each painted around 1520, before Holbein makes his appearance on the scene, and as a result, our Henry looks quite different than he does in later, more grand portraiture. The portrait of Catherine was only recently correctly identified, back in 2013. Before then, it was believed to depict Catherine Parr, Henry's sixth wife, the one who survived him, and who we will talk about at the very end of this video. Henry and Catherine are both in the bloom of youth, and the king is still slender and fit here, something that changed in his later years, after he was incapacitated during a jousting accident. But how did they come to be married? At this point in history, Henry would have been forbidden from marrying his brother's widow, who was given the title the Dowager Princess of Wales, as this would have been considered adultery. But we have to remember that Catherine and Arthur's betrothal was politically advantageous, and it seemed like a huge waste to throw away that union, when the two youngsters had barely even met before Arthur died. Instead, it was decided that the marriage contract should transfer over to Arthur's brother, five years his junior. To do that, they needed special permission from the Pope, who readily granted dispensation. Catherine insisted that her previous marriage had never been consummated, and even though the Pope agreed to the marriage even if it had been consummated, this later becomes a very important point. The marriage remained in limbo for over six years, with ongoing disagreements about her dowry. At one point, Catherine almost went back to Spain to become a nun. However, in 1509, Henry VII died, and his son decided that he was finished with waiting to be wed. At the age of 17, when Catherine was 23, Henry VIII declared that it had been his father's dying wish to see him married, and the wedding finally took place. Let's be clear. Henry married Catherine because he genuinely loved her. She was beautiful and smart, and she loved finery and the nicest things in life, as did Henry. Together, they rode and hunted, and he treated her as a trusted confidante. Catherine and Henry had six children, but only their daughter Mary, who I will talk about in part two of this video, survived infancy. But their marriage was happy, until it gradually wasn't. See, Henry doted on his daughter, and for a long while it seemed that he would be satisfied with leaving behind a female heir. But as he got older, the thought worried away at him. Remember, it was his father that ended the Wars of the Roses, and peacefully passed his crown to Henry. Now Henry couldn't very well risk it all and leave behind a female heir, which he worried would be a sign of weakness and could plunge England back into uncertainty. Henry was very superstitious, and he couldn't help but start to wonder if his lack of a male heir was due to marrying his brother's widow. He wanted a son, and that meant he wanted a new wife who could give him one. And here she is. The iconic, some even say infamous, Anne Boleyn. One of the most storied and legendary figures in all of British history. Her life story and execution at the Tower of London after only three years of marriage have inspired hundreds of books, television series, and films. I mean, it even inspired me to get this tattoo on my forearm that I get asked about all the time. In this portrait, we can see Anne's trend-setting French hood, which marked her as a very fashionable woman. Of course, one of the most unusual and memorable parts of her portrait is her golden letter B pendant, mimicked in pop culture ever since. With this provocative piece of jewelry, she is asserting her identity as a Boleyn, rather than trying to blend into the symbols and regalia of the Tudor dynasty. There is even a persistent theory that she passed this necklace on to her sister Mary at their final visit, when she was imprisoned at the Tower, and Mary kept it for her baby daughter Elizabeth. According to lore, three of the four hanging pearls on the imperial state crown, which are believed to have been added by Elizabeth I, could actually be those from her mother's famed necklace. That means that many monarchs, including our beloved Elizabeth II, wore these pearls at their own coronations. Now let's get back to Anne's backstory. She was born into minor nobility. Her father was Thomas Boleyn, 1st Earl of Wiltshire, and she grew up at the beautiful Hever Castle. Let me know if you would like to see a video of me visiting Hever Castle. She spent much of her educational life living in the Netherlands and France, and was a maid of honour to Queen Claude. When she returned to England at 22, she became a maid of honour to Catherine of Aragon. But Anne was smart. Anne refused to go to bed with him. She really feared having an illegitimate child, which would completely scupper her chances of ever becoming Queen, which, even though at the time, that seemed very unlikely, however the chase seemed to have driven Henry wild, and his many love letters to her are held at the British Library. She wanted to be Queen. And coincidentally, Henry was in the market for a new Queen, one that was younger than he and who could bear him many sons, unlike Catherine. Henry began petitioning the Pope for a divorce from Catherine, with the campaign led by Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, much to Catherine's horror and dismay. One of their main arguments at a showy trial, and how awful for her, was that Henry should have never been allowed to marry Catherine in the first place because, shock, they asserted that she did indeed go to bed with Arthur, and she must not have been a virgin. However Catherine's nephew was none other than the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. He exerted pressure on the Pope to prevent the annulment. Pope Clement VII was thrust into a nightmare dilemma. He was going to anger someone important in a really big way, and so he hemmed and hawed, and finally announced that he would not grant the divorce. Henry was irate, and chose to blame the most convenient scapegoat, his trusted Chancellor and advisor, Cardinal Wolsey. Wolsey, whose portrait hangs at Hampton Court and is not on display here at the National Portrait Gallery, knew he was in trouble, and he actually gave Henry a magnificent and extravagant gift, Hampton Court Palace. But tension was still brewing. Wolsey had failed to secure the divorce for Henry, and he was deposed from office. Even Wolsey's gift could not save him, but he died before he could be brought to trial for treason, and Thomas More was brought in to replace Wolsey as Chancellor. Around this same time, Martin Luther's Protestant ideas were circulating around England. While it was technically heresy to read Luther, some historians believe that Anne was a keen student of his work, realizing that this new way of looking at religion could be a way to solve their divorce problem. If the Pope didn't need to be involved, after all, the divorce was a sure thing. And that's exactly what happened. After seven years of negotiations, Henry dissolved most of the country's Catholic institutions. He then married Anne, and only then did he annul his marriage with Catherine, despite their daughter Mary being 17. He formally broke with the Church a year later, and founded the Church of England with himself the head. Queen Anne divided public opinion, with some refusing to acknowledge her role. She did fall pregnant extremely quickly, and had a daughter, Elizabeth, in 1533, and we're going to talk about her in Part 2. Henry was disappointed with the fact that the baby was a girl, but he knew that Anne was young and healthy. However, superstitious Henry was upset by additional miscarriages in 1534 and 1536. Anne, desperate for a son to save her own head, couldn't sustain a pregnancy. Their once passionate and exciting relationship soured, especially after Henry suffered a head injury that seemed to change his personality. He wondered if marrying Anne was a mistake, and if he was being punished by God. And that's when a man we haven't talked about yet, this chap here, made a decisive move against Anne. Yes, I'm talking about Thomas Cromwell, and you can boo and hiss if you want to. Cromwell rose through the ranks to become Cardinal Wolsey's right-hand man, and eventually became Henry VIII's principal secretary and chief minister. He was really the brains behind the King's break from the Roman Catholic Church. Now this painting is attributed to Holbein by the National Portrait Gallery, but some scholars think it may have actually been one of his students. The painter paints Cromwell with a suitable amount of respect, but he is clearly stiff and rather stern. His eyes are narrowed, and he seems quite sour. He's low down in the frame, distancing himself from us, and perhaps even diminishing his importance overall. Note this devotional book. It was Cromwell's Book of Hours, which is a Christian prayer book used to pray the canonical hours at fixed times throughout the day. As a very pious man, Cromwell would have been keen to display this in his portrait. This particular Book of Hours was made in a limited edition run of just three copies. One for Catherine of Aragon, one for Anne Boleyn, and this one right here. Cromwell's copy has long believed to have been lost, but it was just discovered last month in the Wren Library at Trinity College, Cambridge. Hopefully it will be on display very soon. I'd love to go see it. Now Cromwell was initially a bold advocate for Henry's marriage to Anne, but he then turned on her when she wasn't the perfect wife. It wasn't just that she didn't have a son instantly, it was more that the things that made her a good mistress made her a bad wife. She was bossy, opinionated, and intelligent. Cromwell soon led a campaign against Anne, and she was put on trial for trumped-up charges of adultery, with her own brother no less, and even a plot to murder the king. Cromwell's plan was successful. Anne was arrested on the 2nd of May, 1536, and taken by barge to the Tower of London. Henry had moved on to an obsession with one of Anne's own ladies-in-waiting, Jane Seymour, who we will meet very soon. The sham trial, conducted by men who openly hated Anne, found her guilty, and she was held prisoner at the Tower, where she had prepared for her coronation just three years earlier. Sheer cruelty. On the eve of her execution, she joked, quote, I heard say the executioner was very good, and I have a little knack. As a final act of love, I guess, Henry arranged for a skilled swordsman to journey from France. She is buried in the chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula, at the Tower of London. We've met him already, but let's have a look at his most famous portrait. This is a highly accomplished version of that gorgeous portrait by Holbein in the Frick Collection. I feel weird talking about Thomas More's being gorgeous, but it's the portrait that's gorgeous. This is a 17th century copy, and we think that it was painted in Italy or Austria. We've already talked extensively about More, so instead, here let's talk about Hans Holbein. We have some of his wonderful paintings on display just next door. While some of the country's best portraits are here at the National Portrait Gallery, some do remain at the National Gallery. I have two fantastic, if I do say so myself, videos about the National Gallery, which I have linked above and in the comment section below, and I focus on an iconic Holbein painting called The Ambassadors. You really should check it out. Holbein may be heavily associated with England, but he was born in Augsburg in southern Germany in the winter of 1497 or 1498. After traveling through France and Italy to hone his craft, he became the favorite painter of Henry VIII, portraying the nobility of the Tudor court. He himself is often said to have almost once lost his head because he portrayed Anne of Cleves as too attractive, thereby tricking the king. But this might be a bit of a myth, and don't worry, we're going to talk about her a bit later on. It's time to talk about Jane Seymour, Henry VIII's third wife. She was born at Wolfe Hall in Wiltshire, likely around 1509. Just like Anne, she started her royal life as a lady-in-waiting, first to Catherine of Aragon and then to Anne Boleyn. She actually shared a great-great-grandmother with both Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. And like them, her life met a tragic end, although in a very different way. Jane was not as highly educated as Henry's previous wives, but there was something about her that caught his eye. By all accounts, Jane Seymour was very kind, and some people even go as far as to describe her as simple, which I don't think is very nice, but maybe it was true. She was an excellent embroiderer, and Henry VIII actually picked up the hobby for the rest of his life. Perhaps it was her perceived submissiveness, so different from Anne's spicy demeanor, that attracted Henry. We know that he was already interested in her during the final months of Anne's life. His desire to move on to Jane likely did help speed up his decision to do away with Anne. Remember, Anne Boleyn was executed on the 19th of May, 1536, and Henry was officially engaged to Jane the very next day. They were married at the Palace of Whitehall on the 30th of May, and the public, so divided on Anne, embraced Jane, especially for her well-publicized sympathy for the late Queen Catherine and Lady Mary, for whom she advocated to be restored back into the line of succession, behind any children she might have with Henry, of course. While the official excuse for her lack of coronation was an outbreak of the plague, Henry may have been hesitant to crown her as consort before she had birthed a male heir. Jane jumped into her role as Queen, and established a more formal court than her predecessor, even going as far as to ban the French fashions that Anne had loved. Jane's pregnancy was announced a year after the wedding, and she gave birth to her son Edward six months later, on October 12th, 1537. Tragically, she died two weeks later of postnatal infection, often called purpural fever. She was just 28 years old, and was deeply mourned by Henry, who ordered that he would be buried beside her at Windsor. Now, would this love have continued as strong or as passionately had she lived, or would she too have fallen out of favor? We'll never know. We can see that the painting is unfinished, because the underdrawing shows through the jewels, and the headdress and the sleeves have only one layer of paint. It may have been unfinished due to her death. Before we move on to Anne of Cleves, let's have a look at how Henry's appearance was changing over time. The last time I was here, I heard a couple of teenage boys remarking on the size of Henry's codpiece, and the other said, well, it's not the size of the codpiece, it's the size of the cod. This large-scale cartoon was painted by Hans Holbein around 1537, as Henry was expecting the birth of his son Edward. Of course, this is one of the most iconic images of Henry, and would go on to inspire his many later portraits. When I say cartoon in this type of context, I'm referring to a preparatory sketch. This one was for a large-scale dynastic portrait to be placed in Henry's privy chamber, and therefore have a small, private audience. This is the left-hand section of the mural, which depicts Henry with his father Henry VII up in the top right corner. The right-hand section included Henry VIII's third wife, Jane Seymour, and his mother, Elizabeth of York, but this has been lost. Sadly, the actual Holbein painting was destroyed in the Whitehall Palace Fire of 1698, but a mid-17th century copy does exist in the Royal Collection. The cartoon is exactly the same size as the finished mural, and would have been used to transfer Holbein's design to its intended position on the palace wall. Artisans would have pricked the main outlines, and then brushed charcoal dust or chalk into the pinpricks to transfer the outline to the wall. Holbein could then fill in the outline and add the details. Now, I want to tell you the entire story, so we're going to have to talk about two of Henry's six wives who are not representing here at the National Portrait Gallery, Anne of Cleves and Catherine Howard. In the rhyme Divorce Beheaded Died, Divorce Beheaded Survived, Anne of Cleves and Catherine Howard are the second divorced and beheaded, respectively. Let's talk a little bit about Anne of Cleves. In some ways, she's the luckiest of all the wives. Henry, who was 48, didn't want to marry her, and she, who was 23, didn't want to marry Henry. But instead of meeting a tragic end, she got to live out the rest of her days as the King's honorary sister, living a life of luxury with very little responsibility. But things weren't always so easy for her. It's likely a myth that Hans Holbein made her look far more beautiful on canvas than in person. This rumor seems to date to the 17th century, when criticizing her clothing and manners became fashionable. And that's when she also gained the nickname the Flanders Mare. The truth is likely more simple. Henry just didn't fancy her in person. It's also likely that at this point, Henry may have spotted the teenaged Catherine Howard. Thomas Cromwell, who had championed Anne of Cleves as the perfect match, did realize he'd made a big mistake, and he tried to halt the marriage, but he was unsuccessful. This is what would cost him his head. He was executed technically for heresy, corruption, and treason, on paper at least, but the real reason was that Henry was very much displeased with Cromwell's role in his bailed marriage. Anne was a good sport about giving Henry an annulment. She was probably really relieved, and she was rewarded. She and Henry referred to each other as brother and sister for the rest of their lives, and she was given a special allowance and property in Kent. Anne would go on to outlive Henry, as well as his next two wives. Of course, Catherine Howard was not so lucky. She was Henry's next victim, I mean wife, of course. She came from minor nobility, and was a cousin of Anne Boleyn. Henry was 49, and Catherine was between 15 and 21 years old, but she's usually cited as being 17. He and Catherine were married on 28 July 1540, the very same day that Thomas Cromwell was executed. Timing with Henry VIII, he's always doing that. While the marriage was ostensibly about having children, Henry was likely impotent by this time, and soon after, Catherine began a tempestuous affair with Thomas Culpepper, right under Henry's nose. She famously wrote to Culpepper, "'It makes my heart die to think I cannot always be in your company, signing the letter yours as long as life endures.' Perhaps she was genuinely enamoured with him, or she may have been a victim of a controlling and dangerous suitor. Regardless, news of the letter, the affair, and Catherine's premarital peccadilloes reached Henry by October, by way of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, who we will meet in Part 2. Henry plunged into a deep depression over the young queen that he adored, and Catherine was soon sentenced to death. She was taken by barge to the tower, and would have seen the rotting heads of Thomas Culpepper and Frances Derham, her past lovers, on pikes atop London Bridge as she passed underneath. She was executed at the tower three days later, and asked for the wooden block to be brought to her room the night before, so she might know how to place herself. Catherine was weak and terrified, but she confessed that she merited a hundred deaths for so offending the king who had graciously treated her. We are at our final canvas of Part 1, Henry VIII's sixth and final wife, Catherine Parr. In the famous rhyme, she is the quote, survived, though she didn't survive for long, and she is often depicted as the ideal wife for an ailing and aging Henry VIII, little more than a calm nursemaid. She showed great kindness to the king's children by his earlier marriages, Mary, Elizabeth, and Edward. Catherine Parr was pivotal in helping repair the relationship between Henry and his children, and even helping to restore them into the line of succession. However, her reputation as a meek nursemaid couldn't be further from the truth, as Catherine Parr had a brilliant mind. She was also the first woman to publish an original work under her own name in English, in England, her book titled Prayers of Meditations, and she published two others as well. She was also politically savvy, much like Henry VIII's grandmother Margaret Beaufort, and she is constantly thinking far ahead and saving herself in very dodgy situations. Catherine Parr was born in 1512, and had been married twice before Henry. After the death of her second husband, she used her late mother's friendship with Catherine of Aragon to secure a place in Lady Mary's, later Mary I's, court, and this is where she caught Henry's eye. She ended her romantic friendship with Thomas Seymour, Jane Seymour's brother, in favour of marrying the king, and the wedding took place on 12 July 1543, when she was around 31 years old. Now Catherine understood public image, and no portrait on our tour demonstrates this better than this one, painted by Master John. See, she was the first English woman to have herself painted full length while standing on a Turkish carpet. Seems like a strange thing to note, right? Well, Henry, for instance, has himself painted regularly on and with carpets like these because they were so expensive, and show the viewer just how sophisticated, powerful, and worldly the subject is. Again, let's look at Holbein's The Ambassadors to see the same type of carpet. The only other woman regularly depicted surrounded by Turkish carpets at this time? The Virgin Mary. Therefore, Catherine Parr is seen as powerful, but also pious. She is wearing the most expensive clothing possible, detailed with real gold and silver thread, and dotted with pearls, which were imported and signified the height of luxury. Note her massive cameo jewelry wrapped around her waist, nearly half the length of the painting, but most importantly, her brooch adorned with a small crown. This is the first painting of a queen anywhere in Europe to feature any kind of crown. This is remarkable, and also shows us that Catherine Parr knows exactly her importance and her regal place in the world. And she did have power. Henry even left her as regent in his place when he went on his last campaign to France in 1544. And her calm, decisive ruling style is thought to have influenced her stepdaughter, Elizabeth. And in the next video, we'll be talking a lot about Elizabeth. It's also interesting to note that around the time this portrait was painted, Henry was commissioning this portrait of himself, his two daughters, and we, little Edward, with Jane Seymour at his side. Remember, Jane had been dead for eight years at this point, and this must have felt very much like a burn to Catherine. That said, she was one of the closest people, at least in proximity, to the king. Even after an attempt by high-ranking officials to turn the king against her due to her conflicting religious beliefs, believe it or not, she conflicted with Henry because she supported his church almost too much, but she managed to reconcile with Henry and have her arrest warrant thrown out. Soon after, the king passed away at the age of 55, likely from his ulcerated leg and overall poor health. However, he clearly cared for Catherine. He made provision for an allowance of £7,000 per year for her household, and further ordered that Catherine, though a Queen Dowager, should be given the respect of the Queen of England, as if he were still alive. She should have lived a long, respected, and wealthy life. She soon married her lost love, Thomas Seymour, and fell pregnant immediately. Tragically, she died shortly after childbirth from infection. Her daughter lived a few years, and then she, too, disappears from the historical record. Catherine was only 35 or 36 years old. Well, we've covered the tragedies, rumours, gossip, and deaths of the Tudor portraits here in the National Portrait Gallery, and in Part 2, we'll be starting with Edward VI and the aftermath of Henry VIII's death. Well, that's the end of Part 1 of our exploration of the Tudor Gallery at the National Portrait Gallery. I really hope that you'll join me for Part 2, which I'll be releasing in the next couple of weeks. Remember, if you like this video, like, comment, and subscribe, and let me know which galleries and museums you'd like me to do again in the future. I'll see you the next time I'm at the museum. It'll be this one.