The REAL Reason Henry VIII Rejected This Queen | Anne of Cleves | Henry VIII’s Fourth Wife

The REAL Reason Henry VIII Rejected This Queen | Anne of Cleves | Henry VIII’s Fourth Wife

Depending on which opinion someone has of Henry VII and his Six Wives, Anne of Cleves was either his most unfortunate wife or his luckiest. She would survive being rejected by Henry, become an independent woman in her own right, and outlive all of his other wives. Anne was born on the 22nd of September, 1515, in the ducal capital of Düsseldorf. She was the middle of three sisters and a brother, with her eldest sister Sybille being married off at the age of twelve to the Elector of Saxony, her brother William taking over his father’s duchy, and her younger sister Amalia remaining a spinster her entire life. Anne’s father, John, was Duke of Cleves and Count of Mark, both titles he had through his wife Maria of Jülich-Berg. Anne was raised at Burg Castle at the edge of Solingen, which in reality had become less of a defensive castle and more of a palace by the time of Anne’s birth. Despite a life of luxury, Anne wasn’t given a formal education the way many women her age were in parts of Europe at that time. She was able to read and write in German, was highly skilled with needlework and tapestries, and would have had a very strict religious upbringing, although this might have differed depending on which parent she spoke with. Her father was a committed Lutheran who was heavily influenced by Erasmus, but her mother remained a devout Catholic. In 1527, at the age of eleven, Anne was betrothed to Francis, the nine-year-old son and heir apparent of the Duke of Lorraine. This was all part of her father’s strategic marriages for his children to strengthen his duchy against the growing Habsburg Empire, but due to Francis’s young age at the time of the betrothal, and Anne’s for that matter, the match was called off in 1535. However, it wouldn’t prevent Henry VIII years later using this as a reason to annul his marriage to Anne.

A few years later, in 1538, Henry was between wives long enough to consider having another one. Jane Seymour, the mother of his only son and third child, had died in October 1537. It would seem Henry genuinely mourned her death, as court mourning would remain until the following spring, and although he went along half-heartedly with his council’s suggestion of marrying again, nothing really went ahead for a long time. In November, someone brought up that there were two eligible daughters of the Duke of Cleves, but it wouldn’t be until 1538 that Henry really considered it. In 1538, the Pope also learned about the execution of Henry Pole, 1st Baron Montagu, and Henry Courtenay, Marquess of Exeter, in a supposed attempt to overthrow Henry with little evidence to show for it. In exchange for this, the Pope reissued his excommunication of the English king, and this in turn made an alliance with the Protestant Cleaves even more attractive for England. John knew a good offer when he saw one, and when the proposal of marriage was once again floated, he suggested his elder unmarried daughter, Anne. Henry was being pushed by his council, as although he had finally been given the son and heir apparent he had always wanted, Edward—not forgetting he already had two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, who would be formidable queens in their own right—Henry only had one son though, and it was nice to have a spare. The idea had really been Thomas Cromwell’s, and he was made Lord Great Chamberlain as a result.

Nicholas Wotton and Robert Barnes, two very Protestant ambassadors from Henry’s court, were sent to Düsseldorf in 1539 to arrange the marriage between their king and either Anne or Amalia. But when they got there, they were not greeted by John, who had recently died on the 6th of February, but by his serious and devout son, William. William had some ridiculously strong ideas on female modesty, and when the ambassadors arrived, they were shocked to find they could see very little of either woman’s face or figure as they were covered by a monstrous habit, gown, and veil. Apparently, when Wotton gently tried to complain of this to William, explaining that Henry wanted to know what they looked like, William retorted, “Would you see them naked?” While on the one hand his concern was extreme, it’s not difficult to understand William’s point of view when Henry’s entire desire for a wife was based on whether she looked sexy enough, especially given his track record. As a result, Cromwell sent the famous Hans Holbein to paint portraits of Anne and Amalia, but William had yet to give permission for this to actually happen. He delayed the process, and Cromwell tried to placate Henry by stating how many people apparently extolled Anne’s beauty both in her features and in herself, as well as how gracious and virtuous she was. He had to lay it on thick; it had been his idea in the first place, but the truth was, whether Anne really was or wasn’t beautiful, not many people would actually have known the answer. She had such a strict upbringing and her brother was so protective that few had ever seen her without her many layers of clothes and veils.

To give him credit, William found any excuse possible to put Henry off. He argued his sisters were so virtuous and so secluded that they would struggle at the English court, known for games of passion and flirting. The German courts at the time even had dim views on women playing music, he pointed out. In view of Henry’s previous wives, any woman following them would know only insecurity and unhappiness, and finally, he said he was far too poor anyway to give a dowry. The English king replied to this by saying if the Lady Anne was quite as lovely as everyone was telling him, he would happily marry her without a dowry. This was an offer the impoverished William couldn’t turn down, and he agreed to the portraits being painted. Holbein chose to paint Anne face on, unusual for the time, which disguised the fact she had a long nose. She is portrayed with a demure, sweet, youthful face, her hands relaxed and held together in a dignified pose, her jeweled gown and headdress showing her social station. Henry was immediately taken with her image and agreed it was Anne he wanted. Cromwell was relieved and everything was going well, but by the end of August, William remembered his sister’s earlier betrothal to the Duke of Lorraine, something that required clearing in the ecclesiastical court before her marriage to Henry. Luckily, with inquiries made from both England and Cleaves, no pre-contract of marriage was ever found. On the 4th of September 1539, Anne’s marriage contract to Henry was signed. It was decided, as Anne had never traveled by sea, that she would make her way to England with her entourage overland through Calais rather than through the Baltic Sea.

Anne left Cleaves in early November, but her journey was slow and she didn’t reach Calais until the 11th of December. Henry was eager for his bride to arrive and in high spirits, asking his ambassadors for more details about her. He was assured she was tall and thin, of average beauty, and had a resolute countenance, so basically Anne didn’t look anything at all like Henry’s favored type of woman, but he was so blinded by what he thought she would be that he ignored this. Finally, on the 27th of December, Anne arrived at Dover, pressing on towards Canterbury just a few days later on the 29th, with wind and hail blowing in her face, before traveling to Rochester Abbey on New Year’s Eve. She had been given a magnificent welcome, with many lords and ladies of court jostling for a position in the new queen’s household, and everyone was impressed with her manners, her looks, and how merry she was despite the journey, and reportedly said how eager she was to make up for her lack of education by learning English as fast as possible and doing everything in her power to please the king. Not one person said anything negative about Anne or her looks. However, Anne and Henry’s first meeting was to be a fateful one. Following an old English yuletide tradition, Henry decided to first meet his bride in disguise, following the idea that the bride was supposed to be able to see through the disguise and recognize her true love. Who knows if anyone mentioned to Henry that Anne wouldn’t have a clue about these English courtly traditions, and if they had, would he have even listened?

Anne was sat watching bear-baiting out of her window when Henry burst into the room in a ragged cloak, claiming to be a messenger with a gift from the king, also bearing in mind that at this time she didn’t understand English. He grabbed the poor woman in his arms and kissed her with no warning. Instead of swooning into his arms, Anne was understandably horrified at this obese, uncouth peasant grabbing her and kissing her against her will. Speaking in a language she did not yet know, she recoiled and turned back to the window, probably shaken and uncertain as to what to do. She was a foreign noble woman who had just been assaulted in her own rooms, and no one there had done anything to stop it. Was this how she was going to be treated in England? Henry was surrounded at all times by Tudor yes-men and women who had been trained to stare adoringly at their king and reassure him that despite the years that had passed, his gout and growing stomach, his ability to kill off a wife as soon as look at her, and his horrific temper, he was absolutely definitely still the most attractive prince in all Christendom. Anne being repulsed by him was probably the first time it had ever happened. Unlike with so many other times in his life, the English king chose to turn the insult around on the other person. It wasn’t he who was disgusting; it was Anne, despite the fact that just a few minutes earlier he was happy to scoop her into his arms for a snog. Henry left and returned a few minutes later in his regal clothing, and poor Anne must have been, as he no doubt wanted, incredibly embarrassed when she realized what had happened. She sank to her knees to receive the king, and he pulled her up and kissed her on the mouth in the English tradition.

The two had a halting conversation with the aid of a translator and ate supper together, but it was clear Henry’s ego had been bruised beyond repair. He had brought a gift of furs for his new queen, but left in such a hurry that someone had to go back later and present it to Anne. He angrily took his courtiers to one side, stating, “I like her not, she is nothing as well as she was spoken of.” Of course, everyone around him immediately agreed with Henry that Anne was not attractive, not daring to argue with him. Interestingly, those not associated with Henry, such as the French diplomat Eustace Chapuys, said Anne was of middling beauty, which was higher praise than he would later give Katherine Howard, whom Henry thought was a stunner. Henry immediately sent his counsel and advisers to look for anything to help him wriggle out of his imminent marriage. He then demanded Anne appear before him and swear to being free of impediments, probably hoping she would be offended by this and not do it, but in fact Anne willingly turned up at court and did as asked. It was impossible; no way out could be found, and rejecting his new bride would mean losing his new German allies, something Henry could not afford to do. Funnily enough, although Henry immediately blamed Cromwell for apparently lying to him about Anne’s appearance, he never blamed Holbein and continued to give him commissions. It suggests Holbein may have painted a flattering portrait, sure, but not a fake one. There was no way out, and on the 6th of January 1540, Henry and Anne were married at the Palace of Placentia in Greenwich by Archbishop Thomas Cranmer. But the next day Henry said he had been unable to consummate the marriage, apparently due to the fact Anne smelled funny and her breasts were droopy, which was taken to be signs that she wasn’t a virgin. Ill-timed remarks about Henry’s impotence still stung years later, and he hastened to add that it wasn’t that he physically couldn’t, of course; in fact, he had not one but two nocturnal emissions, definitely doesn’t sound made up.

Poor Anne cannot have been unaware of what her new husband thought of her, as everyone at court will have gossiped about it. She had no one with her in her corner, however, except for the ambassadors that had traveled from Cleaves with her; her own ladies had been replaced with English ones, including a young girl known as Catherine Howard. During a conversation with her senior ladies-in-waiting about being a virgin, Anne replied, “How can I be a maid and sleep every night with the king? When he comes to bed, he kisses me and takes me by the hand and bids me good night sweetheart, and in the morning kisses me and bids me farewell darling.” When asked if that was all that happened, Anne said yes, and that she knew she was not with child. In other words, despite her lack of formal education, Anne wasn’t stupid. In the Tudor period, young women will have understood how babies were made despite not being allowed to do it until marriage, and she would certainly have known the king had not consummated their marriage bed. However, Anne would also have been very careful not to displease Henry; she had even taken on the somewhat Catholic form of Protestantism practiced in England immediately on arrival. But by the 24th of June, Henry had had enough of not having a wife who drooled all over his apparent sex appeal, and Anne was sent from court to his palace at Richmond. This was apparently on the pretext of there being plague in the city, but considering Henry’s hypochondria—Henry jumped if anyone so much as sneezed in the same room as him—it’s highly unlikely he would have stayed in the city if there really had been plague. Instead, he was seen publicly being rowed down the Thames to Lambeth Palace, where Catherine Howard was staying.

Anne would likely have been panicking somewhat; this was always Henry’s first step in distancing himself from his wives by distancing them physically. No doubt she was thinking the worst, so much so that on the 6th of July, when Anne was woken in the middle of the night and told the king had sent commissioners to speak with her on a question that needed answering immediately, she fainted when they entered her room. Anne must have been having visions of the trumped-up charges that would be read out before her head was cut off. Luckily for her, she was assured that nothing of the sort was to happen and that Henry was such a glowing and virtuous prince that he had wanted the legality of their marriage checked, and would you believe it, it turned out that there was supposedly a pre-contract between the Duke of Lorraine and Anne. Anne put on a good show, sighing about how awful it was to lose such an amazing husband, but if it wasn’t valid, that was that—what a shame. She pretended to be reluctant, but in reality it quickly sent the king a letter agreeing to dissolve the marriage. As part of the agreement, Anne was to be given an annuity of around four thousand pounds a year, the manors of Bletchingley and Richmond, as well as Anne Boleyn’s old home Hever Castle, piles of plate and jewels, and she was to be known as the king’s sister, having precedence over all of the ladies in England other than the future queen and the king’s daughters. Henry also decided to make it very clear that Anne was in fact still a virgin and could remarry if she so wished—no one felt like pointing out that this invalidated earlier statements he had made, and Anne was happy to agree to everything considering the amazing freedom this wealth belonging only to her would give her.

On the 9th of July 1540, Henry’s clergy found the marriage to be invalid, and Anne accepted the judgment, signing it in the king’s presence. She wrote to her brother to explain the situation, also adding that she would not be returning to the land of her birth as her grants of land were hers only if she remained in England, and besides, she added, she liked it here. William received the news somewhat moderately, publicly saying he was glad his sister had fared no worse. Everyone knew what he meant; privately, he thought Henry’s treatment of his sister was disgusting, and he worried about Anne being persecuted for her faith, something that would thankfully never come to pass. But Anne was perfectly content; she was now a wealthy and independent young woman and was reported to often be merry and amused herself with sports and recreations, constantly wearing new fashionable gowns. Anne and Henry even struck up a friendship, and she was often invited to court. In a country now used to cast-aside queens creating fury, chaos, and havoc, it was surprising to see how cheerfully Anne took the news, and Henry showed his gratitude by showering her with gifts and letters from her brother. On top of this, Anne had come to know Mary and Elizabeth quite well by this point, and she had struck up a warm friendship with Princess Mary, but she was especially fond of little Princess Elizabeth, now nearly seven years old, who was given far less attention than her heir-apparent brother. Anne was a kind woman who immediately felt her maternal energy, which was unlikely to be fulfilled by her own children as she had no desire to marry again, could be spent on this charming little daughter of the king. She asked the king if sometimes Elizabeth could be allowed to visit her, and permission was readily given, resulting in the young princess becoming a regular visitor at Richmond Palace.

During Henry’s marriage to Catherine Howard, Anne was happy to retire to the country and enjoy herself with pleasures and pastimes away from court. It seems she also enjoyed cooking, as she had a kitchen built just for herself on one of her estates in order to experiment with meats and spices. However, not everyone got a happy ending from this. Cromwell was placed firmly as the bad guy who had got it wrong, and Henry, who wanted rid of him for other reasons, decided to do away with him all together. On the 28th of July 1540, Thomas Cromwell was led to Tower Hill to be executed, allowed decapitation despite his lack of nobility. It was a bungled execution, with the axeman requiring two strokes to sever Cromwell’s head, Henry’s once right-hand man meeting the same fate as Anne Boleyn, the woman whose downfall he had been part of. After Catherine Howard’s execution on the 13th of February 1542, Anne’s brother Duke William sent word to the king on the subject of his sister once again becoming his wife. The people of England really liked her, and it would have been a sensible option. Henry was quick to shoot the idea down, probably much to Anne’s relief. However, she was a smart girl, and she publicly bemoaned the fact she had been rejected once more by, you know, the most awesome king ever. Pamphlets were even written about this, and Henry was so flattered that he assured Anne that while he would not be her husband, she was securing the position of always being his beloved sister.

When Henry married for the sixth and final time to Katherine Parr, Anne’s response was classic, apparently stating Madame Parr is taking a great burden on herself. Anne largely retreated from public life, and when Henry died on the 28th of January 1547, her right to live in Bletchingley and Richmond was revoked by Edward VI’s council. She therefore only lived at Hever Castle, throwing herself into renovating it to her tastes. She made no public appearances during Edward’s short reign, but she did send many letters to him complaining about the financial disagreement she had with Thomas Cawarden, Master of Revels, who was in charge of her purse strings. It wasn’t until after Edward’s death that Anne would once again be seen in public. She had remained firm friends with Mary even after her ascension to the throne, and on the 4th of August 1553, Anne wrote to Mary to congratulate her on her marriage to Philip of Spain. On the day of Mary’s coronation, the 28th of September 1553, Anne traveled in a position of honor in a litter behind the new queen. This would be her last public appearance, as the country was once again told to conform to Catholicism. Anne readily agreed to convert to Catholicism herself, something that was encouraged and praised in letters from Mary. This may seem strange considering she was represented as a Lutheran Protestant, but in truth we have to remember her upbringing had involved a Lutheran father and a Catholic mother. Anne no doubt was able to find an accord between these two religions the way her parents obviously had.

The only time Anne would raise any unwarranted suspicion was in the wake of Wyatt’s rebellion in 1554. Mary’s paranoia led to her becoming suspicious of her Protestant sister Elizabeth perhaps being involved in the plot by proxy. Anne, who still had a close maternal relationship with the young princess, was watched closely, and the imperial ambassador Simon Renard remarked that Mary was convinced Anne had written to her brother William to ask for aid for Elizabeth through helping the rebellion. While it’s possible Anne may have written to William with the thought of protecting Elizabeth in some way with support from Cleaves, it’s highly unlikely she would have involved herself in a plot against the queen. Either way, after 1554 Anne would never again be asked to come back to court. Sometime before 1557, Anne’s health suffered, and it’s now postulated she may have had cancer. Mary allowed her to move to Chelsea Old Manor, and it was here that Anne would write out her will. She missed out no one, including the many dozens of servants in her household, ensuring everyone got something from money or jewels to dowries and plate. She asked Mary that the rents from her lands be used to pay off her debts and that one of her maids be taken into Elizabeth’s service. Anne died on the 16th of July 1557, the last of Henry’s wives to pass away. Whatever suspicions Mary may have had, she held far deeper feelings for her friend, and she ensured Anne was given the royal funeral she deserved. Anne was buried in Westminster Abbey with a full Catholic service, and her tomb was draped with cloth of gold. The queen also commissioned a grand tomb for her former stepmother, but sadly it was never completed into the reign of James I. Work was still being done on it, but there were more pressing places for funds, and work eventually stopped.

Anne’s tomb was marked only with two small initials A and C until 1970, when a small plaque was placed on it. Anne may not have become a wife for more than a few months, or a mother, or a woman who had grand designs for power, but she was extremely smart and extremely lucky. Anne is often glossed over as the wife who was rejected, but this doesn’t consider the number of times her position became dangerous. Her careful handling of Henry’s desire to put her aside shows a woman who was astute and aware of her predicament, especially one presented in a language she didn’t initially understand, and this shows Anne’s depth for self-preservation. She was also a quick learner, picking up English in a matter of months as well as having a lifelong desire to learn new skills, and the English people fell in love with her truly kind and sweet nature. In short, had things turned out differently, it’s likely Anne of Cleves would have been a brilliant queen, but as it turned out, Anne had arguably the best life of all Henry’s wives, dying a wealthy, independent woman who had made great friends with many and left a good reputation behind her.