Divorced. Beheaded. Died. Divorced. Beheaded. Survived.
It's the ultimate mnemonic. If you grew up in a British or American classroom, those six words are likely burned into your brain alongside the quadratic formula and the year 1066. It’s snappy. It’s dark. It’s weirdly catchy.
But honestly? The henry the 8th rhyme about wives is kind of a lie.
It’s not a lie because the women didn't die—they certainly did—but because it reduces six complex, powerful, and politically savvy women into mere verbs. It treats the Tudor court like a game of musical chairs where the loser gets an axe to the neck. While the rhyme is a great way to pass a history quiz, it misses the nuance of why Henry VIII was so obsessed with his matrimonial conveyor belt in the first place.
Henry wasn't just a guy with a bad temper and a wandering eye. Well, he was that, but he was also a king terrified of a dynastic collapse.
Why the Henry the 8th Rhyme About Wives Sticks in Our Heads
Mnemonics work because our brains love patterns. We like things that rhyme, or at least things that have a rhythmic cadence. The "Divorced, Beheaded, Died" chant provides a neat, chronological filing system for a messy period of English history.
Interestingly, the rhyme isn't even from the Tudor era. You won't find Anne Boleyn whispering it in the Tower or Catherine Parr humming it while she nursed Henry's ulcerated legs. It’s a Victorian invention. The Victorians loved a bit of macabre history, and they were the ones who really leaned into the "Bluebeard" image of Henry.
Before we get into the weeds, let’s look at the lineup.
Catherine of Aragon was the first. She’s the "divorced" one, though if you asked her, she’d have told you she was his only true wife until her dying breath. She was a Spanish princess, a warrior who governed England while Henry was off playing soldier in France, and a woman who held her ground for twenty years. To call her just "divorced" is basically an insult to her legacy.
Then came Anne Boleyn. The "beheaded" one. She changed the religion of an entire nation. She wasn’t just a victim; she was a catalyst.
Jane Seymour is the "died" one. She gave him the son he craved, Edward VI, and then perished from childbed fever. Henry called her his "true wife," mostly because she died before he had a chance to get bored of her.
Then the cycle repeated. Anne of Cleves (divorced/annulled), Catherine Howard (beheaded), and Catherine Parr (survived).
🔗 Read more: Why Everyone Is Still Obsessing Over Maybelline SuperStay Skin Tint
The Legal Problem with "Divorced"
Technically, Henry VIII never actually "divorced" anyone.
That might sound like pedantry, but in the 16th century, it was a massive legal distinction. The Catholic Church didn't really do divorce. What Henry got were annulments. An annulment claims the marriage was never valid in the first place.
Take Catherine of Aragon. Henry argued that because she had been married to his brother, Arthur, their marriage was "unclean" in the eyes of God. In his mind, he wasn't ending a marriage; he was correcting a 20-year-old mistake.
Anne of Cleves got the same treatment. Henry claimed the marriage was never consummated because he found her "unattractive"—a pretty harsh review for someone who had traveled across Europe to meet him. By declaring the marriage void, she wasn't a "divorcee" in the modern sense; she was a "sister."
It’s a bit of a loophole, right? But for the henry the 8th rhyme about wives, "Annulled, Beheaded, Died, Annulled, Beheaded, Survived" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
The Two Catherines and the Axe
When we get to the "beheaded" parts of the rhyme, we’re talking about Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard.
It’s easy to group them together. They were cousins, after all. Both were young, both were charismatic, and both were accused of adultery. But the circumstances were wildly different.
Anne Boleyn’s death was a political assassination. She had failed to produce a male heir, and Henry’s right-hand man, Thomas Cromwell, needed her gone so the King could marry Jane Seymour. The charges of incest and adultery were almost certainly fabricated.
Catherine Howard? That was a different story. She was a teenager—barely 17 or 18—thrown into the bed of a 49-year-old King who was obese and constantly in pain. She actually did have a relationship with a guy named Thomas Culpeper. Was it treason? Under the laws Henry wrote, yes. Was she a victim of a predatory court? Absolutely.
The rhyme makes their deaths feel like a foregone conclusion, but at the time, the execution of a Queen was a shocking, earth-shattering event. It wasn't "normal," even for Henry.
Why Catherine Parr is the MVP of the Rhyme
"Survived."
💡 You might also like: Coach Bag Animal Print: Why These Wild Patterns Actually Work as Neutrals
It sounds like she just got lucky. Like she sat in a corner and waited for the old man to kick the bucket.
In reality, Catherine Parr was arguably the most impressive of the lot. She was a published author—the first woman in England to publish a book under her own name in English. She was a radical Protestant who almost got herself arrested for heresy.
There’s a famous story where she found out there was a warrant for her arrest. Instead of panicking, she went to Henry and basically told him, "Oh, I only argued with you about religion to distract you from your leg pain!" She played to his ego so perfectly that he canceled the arrest.
She didn't just "survive." She outmaneuvered a tyrant.
What the Rhyme Misses: The "King's Great Matter"
If you only know the henry the 8th rhyme about wives, you might think Henry was just a guy who liked weddings.
The truth is much darker and more desperate. Henry was the second King of the Tudor dynasty. His father, Henry VII, had won the throne in battle, ending the Wars of the Roses. The entire Tudor line was built on shaky ground.
Henry VIII was terrified that if he didn't produce a male heir, England would spiral back into civil war. This "Great Matter" drove every single choice he made.
- He broke with Rome and created the Church of England to leave Catherine of Aragon.
- He executed his best friend, Sir Thomas More, because More wouldn't acknowledge his new marriage.
- He spent the equivalent of billions of dollars on a navy and coastal defenses to protect his "new" England from Catholic invaders.
The wives were pawns in a much bigger game of survival. When the rhyme says "Died" for Jane Seymour, it's a tragedy not just for her, but for the King who finally got his prince (Edward) but lost the only woman who had fulfilled her "duty."
Modern Pop Culture and the Rhyme’s Legacy
Today, we see the rhyme being subverted.
The musical SIX is the best example of this. It takes the henry the 8th rhyme about wives and flips it on its head. Each wife gets a song to explain why they are more than just a word in a poem. It’s gone from a schoolyard chant to a feminist rallying cry.
People are fascinated by these women because they represent different ways of surviving—or failing to survive—an impossible situation.
📖 Related: Bed and Breakfast Wedding Venues: Why Smaller Might Actually Be Better
- Catherine of Aragon: Dignity and endurance.
- Anne Boleyn: Ambition and intellect.
- Jane Seymour: Quiet duty and sacrifice.
- Anne of Cleves: Practicality (she got a huge settlement and several palaces, honestly she won).
- Catherine Howard: Lost innocence and tragedy.
- Catherine Parr: Intelligence and legacy.
If you’re trying to remember the order, sure, use the rhyme. But don't let it be the end of the story.
Practical Ways to Explore Tudor History Beyond the Rhyme
If you want to actually understand this era without relying on a Victorian jingle, there are better ways to spend your time.
First, read the letters. Henry’s love letters to Anne Boleyn are still in the Vatican Library. They are passionate, desperate, and deeply human. They show a man who was genuinely in love, not just a monster looking for a new Queen.
Second, look at the portraits. Hans Holbein the Younger was the court painter. When you look at his portrait of Anne of Cleves, you can see why Henry was disappointed—not because she was "ugly" (she wasn't), but because the painting was a bit of an idealized version of her. It was the 16th-century version of a filtered Instagram photo.
Third, visit the sites. Standing in the Great Hall at Hampton Court Palace gives you a sense of the scale. These weren't just people in a book; they were humans living in a gold-plated cage.
Real Insights for History Buffs
The henry the 8th rhyme about wives is a tool, not a textbook.
The real history is found in the gaps between the words. It’s found in the religious shifts, the political backstabbing, and the sheer audacity of a King who thought he could rewrite the laws of God and man to get what he wanted.
If you want to dive deeper, look into the work of historians like Antonia Fraser or Lucy Worsley. They’ve done the heavy lifting to move past the "Divorced, Beheaded, Died" trope.
Next Steps for Your Research:
Check out the primary sources. The "Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII" is a massive digital archive where you can read actual reports from ambassadors who were in the room when these events happened. It’s much more visceral than any rhyme.
Also, look into the "Act of Succession." It's the legal document that shows how Henry kept changing his mind about which children were "legitimate." It’s the ultimate proof that the wives were, in his eyes, simply tools for building a legacy.
Don't just memorize the rhyme. Understand the stakes. The Tudor court was a high-stakes poker game where the currency was blood, and these six women were the most interesting players at the table.