CHAPTER XXV

. ANNE OF CLEVES, FOURTH QUEEN OF HENRY VIII.

(A.D. 1516-1577.)

|Anne of Cleves was a most unfortunate, ill-treated princess, but she possessed so many virtues that she surely deserved a better fate than to become the wife of a king so devoid of the feelings of a gentleman as Henry' VIII.

After the death of his third queen, this capricious monarch did not find it so easy to get another as he probably expected it would be. Certainly it must have been a woman of rare courage who would willingly subject herself to such a yoke, knowing the experience of his other victims.

Jane Seymour had not been dead more than a month when he made a request of Francis I. that he might be permitted to choose a lady from the royal blood of France for his queen. That monarch replied, "that there was not a damsel of any degree in his own dominions who should not be at his disposal."

Henry was quite flattered at this compliment, and thought it would only be necessary for him to put out his hand to secure any woman he might condescend to favor, so he requested Francis just to bring all the fairest ladies of his court to Calais for him to take his choice. The gallantry of the French king was shocked at such an idea, and he replied, "that it was impossible to bring ladies of noble blood to market as horses are trotted out at a fair."

Then Henry wanted to marry James V.'s lady-love, whom he had seen and admired, not paying the slightest attention to the fact that she was already engaged. When he found it impossible to get her, he was ready to consider the proposition of his ambassador with regard to her sister or Mademoiselle Vendôme.

"Let them be brought to Calais," he said, "and I will take a look at them."

"That would be impossible," was the reply; "but your majesty could send somebody to Paris to see them."

"Good gracious! how can I depend upon any one but myself?" asked Henry. "I must see them, and hear them sing; and what is more, I must see how they look while they are singing," he added.

By the end of the year he found that there was no hope for him in France, so he put on a most melancholy air, and pretended to be dreadfully grieved at the death of his pretty Jane.

This state of mind lasted for about two years; then Cromwell spoke in such flattering terms of the princesses of the house of Cleves that Henry began to think he had played the _rôle_ of forlorn widower long enough.

Cromwell had only seen Sybilla, the eldest daughter of the Duke of Cleves. She was married to the Duke of Saxony, and was famed for her talents, virtues, charming manners, and extreme beauty. But unfortunately for Henry, Anne, the second daughter, was as unlike her sister as possible, and had no accomplishments whatever, with the exception of needlework.

Holbein, the celebrated Dutch artist, was required to paint the portraits of both Anne and her younger sister, Amelia, for Henry's inspection, and Christopher Mount was sent to negotiate the treaty of marriage. He wrote a letter to Cromwell filled with Anne's praises and said, "she as far excelleth the Dutchess of Saxony as the golden sun excelleth the silver moon." {411}The Duke of Saxony was very much opposed to a union of his sister-in-law with a man of Henry VIII.'s character, but he was the champion of the Reformation, and Christopher Mount assured him "that the cause of Protestantism in Europe would be greatly advanced by the influence of a Lutheran Queen of England, for Henry was easily managed through his wives."

The Duke of Cleves died in 1559, but his son, who succeeded him, favored Anne's marriage with King Henry, and so did their mother, both being strong allies of the Protestant cause, and feeling that even though it might be a sacrifice, it ought to be made for the sake of their religion.

One of Henry's commissioners wrote him that Anne "occupieth much of her time with her needle. She can read and write her own language, but French and Latin or other language she knoweth not; nor yet can sing or play on any instrument, for they take it here in Germany for a rebuke and an occasion of lightness that great ladies should be learned, or have any knowledge of music." He also speaks of her gentle and amiable temper, but above all he praises her sobriety, which is quite amusing.

Ever since the death of Jane Seymour the Catholics and Protestants of England had vied with each other as to which should be next represented in the queen. It was the magic brush of Hans Holbein that decided the question, and Cromwell won a triumph over Gardiner, Norfolk, and his other rivals, though it brought him ruin at last.

At length all matters of state policy and ceremony were arranged, and the young princess bade farewell to her mother, brother, and sisters, by whom she was tenderly beloved.

The first week in October, 1539, she left her native city, Dusseldorf on the Rhine, attended by a splendid escort. On her arrival at Antwerp she was received by the English {412}merchants there, who gave her a grand torchlight procession by daylight. Next day she proceeded on her journey, and arrived at Calais December 11.

About a mile outside of the town she was met by a regiment of armed men, with the king's archers, all in gay attire, besides the Earl of Southampton, Lord William Howard, and many other lords and gentlemen. Gregory Cromwell, with twenty-four others wore coats of satin damask and velvet, with gold chains of great value, and two hundred yeoman who followed them were dressed in the king's colors, red and blue cloth.

The Earl of Southampton welcomed the royal bride and conducted her into Calais, where such a peal of guns was shot from the ships on her arrival that all her retinue were astonished. Then firing began all along the coast, and was continued by the vessels until there were one hundred and fifty rounds, and so much smoke that the people in Anne's train could scarcely see each other.

The following day she was presented by the mayor with a hundred gold sovereigns, and for about three weeks after her arrival there were all sorts of pastimes and festivities. Meanwhile Henry impatiently awaited his long-expected bride, and busied himself with the execution of four worthy abbots.

The wind did not favor her progress until the 27th, when she embarked, attended by a fleet of fifty ships, and arrived at Deal the same day. The princess was received by a great company of ladies and gentlemen, and conducted to Dover Castle, where she remained until the next Monday, when, in a dreadful storm, she set out for Canterbury. Several days of travel brought the royal bride to Rochester, and New Year's Day was spent at the bishop's palace in that town.

The king was so impatient to see her, that, in company {423}with eight of his gentlemen-in-waiting, he rode to Rochester to steal a look at his German bride, who, no doubt he thought, would rival the bright-eyed Boleyn and the fair Seymour.

On his arrival he sent a messenger to inform Anne "that he had brought her a New Year's gift, if she would please to receive it."

He followed his messenger into the room where she sat, but a glance was sufficient to show him that he had been deceived. She was by no means a pretty woman, and Henry regarded himself as an injured person in having to marry her. Perhaps she was not more charmed with his appearance or manners, but she sank upon her knees at his approach and did her best to receive him lovingly. He raised her gently, and kissed her, but there could not have been much conversation between them so long as they had to employ an interpreter. Besides her language was so displeasing to his musical ear that he did not want to hear more of it than he could help, though he knew before she came that she could speak no English. The moment he left her presence he sent for the lords who had brought her over and made his complaints.

The New Year's gift that he had provided for Anne was a muff and tippet of rich sable, but when he found she was not handsome he would not honor her by presenting it with his own hands, but sent it on the following morning by a messenger.

He returned to Greenwich in a melancholy frame of mind, and abused Cromwell for having provided him with a wife whom, with his usual brutality, he called a "great Flanders mare." Cromwell tried to put the blame on the Earl of Southampton, and said: "That when he found the princess so different from the pictures, and the reports that had been made of her, he ought to have stopped her {414}at Calais till he had given the king notice that she was not so handsome as she had been represented." The admiral replied bluntly "that he was not invested with any such authority, his commission was to bring her to England, and he had obeyed orders." The king interrupted them by ordering them to find some means to get him out of his engagement. There was a great deal of discussion about the matter, but no objection to the marriage could be invented that would be at all satisfactory to Anne's relations in Germany, so Cromwell assured the king that as a matter of policy he must do nothing to gain the ill-will of her friends.

"Is there no remedy but that I must needs put my neck into this yoke?" exclaimed Henry, passionately.

After these gracious words, which it is to be hoped did not reach the ears of the insulted lady who was waiting his orders at Dartford, he commanded the most splendid preparations to be made for his marriage. On the 3d of January a rich tent, covered with cloth of gold, was pitched at the foot of Shooter's Hill for the royal bride, and other tents around for her ladies. Twelve hundred gentlemen were ranged in double file from the park gates to the heath awaiting the arrival of the king with his bride. About twelve o'clock her grace came down from Shooter's Hill, accompanied by a hundred of her own nation, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, the Archbishop of Canterbury, with other bishops, lords and knights who had come from France, and went towards the tents, where Dr. Kaye, her almoner, presented all the officers and servants of her household, and addressed to her an eloquent Latin oration, of which she did not understand a word. It was answered by her brother's secretary, who acted as interpreter. Then Anne stepped out of her chariot, and was saluted and welcomed by sixty-five ladies, whom she thanked and kissed, after {415}which all entered the tents to warm themselves, for the weather was exceedingly cold and disagreeable. When the king heard that his bride had arrived at her tent he set out through the park to meet her, accompanied by the officers of his council and his gentlemen in waiting, all richly attired in velvet coats embroidered in gold, and mounted on fine large horses. The Marquis of Dorset rode alone, attired in purple velvet and bearing the king's sword of state. Some distance behind him came Henry VIII., mounted on a splendid white courser with trappings of cloth of gold embroidered with pearls. All the buckles, bit, and pendants were of solid gold. The king wore an embroidered purple velvet coat, the sleeves and breast of which were slashed, showing cloth of gold beneath, and fastened together with large buttons of diamonds, rubies, and oriental pearls. His sword and girdle were studded with costly emeralds, and his cap was so covered with jewels that it was not possible to fix a value on it. Around his neck was a deep collar thickly studded with rubies and pearls.

When the bride was informed of Henry's approach she walked out of her tent, mounted a white horse, and, surrounded by her footmen, rode forward to meet him. Her dress was made of rich cloth of gold, cut round in Dutch fashion without a train. On her head she wore a close cap, above which was a circular bonnet ornamented with oriental pearls. Across her brow was a coronet of black velvet, and around her neck a band of superb diamonds. Henry saluted her in the most courteous manner, took off his hat and embraced her as though he really cared for her, while she, not forgetting her duty, and perhaps the instructions she had received, thanked him sweetly and praised the arrangements he had made for her reception. No doubt he was pleased with all the flattering remarks she {416}felt obliged to make to him. Then he put her on his right side and they rode along together, he acting a deceitful part in trying to appear pleased, and she filled with indignation at the way he had scorned her.

When the grand cavalcade that followed and preceded the royal pair arrived at Greenwich Castle all the men alighted from their horses excepting the king, who rode to the inner court with his bride. When the queen had alighted from her horse Henry tenderly embraced her, and bade her "welcome to her own," then conducted her through the hall that had been prepared for her reception. There he left her and went to his room, where he had an interview with Cromwell, to whom he made bitter complaints about the appearance of his unlucky bride.

Cromwell said he was sorry his grace was not better satisfied, whereupon Henry bade him call his council together to see whether they could not hit upon some plan for getting him out of this marriage. The council met that very afternoon, but failed to aid the king out of his dilemma, and this put him in such a bad humor that he would not say what he had determined to do until the next Monday morning; then he ordered the marriage ceremony to be performed next day, without even consulting the bride..

He wore a gown of cloth of gold, with raised silver flowers all over it. His coat was crimson satin embroidered and slashed, the points fastened with large diamonds, and a rich collar about his neck.

He entered the presence-chamber, and calling Cromwell to him, said, "My lord, if it were not to satisfy the world and my realm, I would not do what I must do this day for any earthly thing." Then one of the officers of the household informed him that the queen was ready. He advanced towards her chamber door, but had to wait {417}several minutes before she appeared, which made him very angry. Who can blame the poor woman for her tardiness? she would have been excusable if she had refused to come at all. At last Henry sent one of his lords to bring her. She was dressed in a robe of cloth of gold, thickly embroidered in large flowers of oriental pearls. The skirt was cut, as before, round without a train, and at her neck and waist were costly jewels. Her hair fell luxuriantly over her shoulders, and on her head was a coronet of diamonds, with a few sprigs of rosemary. She walked modestly forward, between the Earls of Overstein and Essex, with a sad, demure expression, and on approaching the spot where the king stood made three low obeisances. She was followed by her ladies.

The Archbishop of Canterbury and Cranmer performed the marriage ceremony, the Earl of Overstein gave her away, and on her wedding-ring was engraved this sentence "God send me weel to keepe."

On the 4th of February the king and queen went up the Thames in grand state to their palace of Westminster. Henry kept up an outward show of attention to his bride, but she knew not the art of pleasing, felt no sympathy with his tastes, and could not gain his affection.

She knew this, but could not help it. Several times she sent for Cromwell, hoping with his advice to be more successful, but he positively refused to talk privately with her. He had reasons of his own for doing so.

On the 1st of May a company of the gallant knights at court, all dressed in white velvet with rich ornaments, had a grand tournament in honor of the recent marriage, and this was the last time Henry and Anne of Cleves ever appeared together in public.

Anne studied the English language industriously, and tried in every possible manner to please her lord, but by {418}the end of five months she was convinced that it was hopeless.

There was a low-born, unprincipled creature at court, named Sir Thomas Wriothesley, who would have done or said anything to gain favor with his sovereign, and he kept constantly lamenting over Henry's position, and how hard it was for him to be bound to a wife whom he could not love. In this way he prepared the way for a divorce, and Henry was only too ready to avail himself of any excuse. Now his sensitive conscience began to trouble him again. This time it was on the score of religion; he could not bear to think of having a Lutheran wife. No wonder poor Anne lost patience, and in a moment of pique, told him that, "if she had not been compelled to marry him she might have fulfilled her engagement with another to whom she had promised her hand."

That was enough for him; she could scarcely have said anything that would have suited him better, and he at once set to work to make her position as unpleasant as possible. His first move was to dismiss all her foreign attendants, and supply their places with English ladies of his own selection.

By this time he was in love with the young and beautiful Katharine Howard, niece to the Duke of Norfolk, and had decided to make her his wife as soon as he could manage it. The leaders of the Catholic party favored this union, and hoped at the same time for the downfall of their great enemy, Cromwell. They were soon to be gratified, for Henry now required a tool, who would not be guided by the nice feelings of a gentleman, for carrying out his plans. Cromwell was not such a one, and he must be put out of the way. In this reign of terror nothing was easier, and in less than a month he was arrested and shut up in the Tower.

A few days later Anne was sent to Richmond under pretence {419}that her health required change of air, and this was the prelude to the divorce for which Henry had now grown impatient.

Archbishop Cranmer had performed the marriage ceremony, and it now became his duty to divorce the king for the third time in less than seven years. This was accomplished by unanimous consent of the clergy July 13. As the queen was a stranger to English laws and customs, she was spared the humiliation of appearing before the council.

When everything was settled, Suffolk, Southampton, and Wriothesley were appointed to go to Richmond to get the queen's consent. She was so alarmed when she saw them that before the true object of their visit could be explained to her she fell fainting to the ground. No doubt the poor woman thought she was on the point of having her head cut off. When she recovered consciousness, she was told that if she would resign her title as queen Henry would adopt her for a sister, and that she should be endowed with estates to the value of £3,000 a year. This was an immense relief, and Anne expressed her willingness to resign her honors with such alacrity that the lords were quite surprised.

When Henry heard this, and saw the paper she had signed to that effect, he could not believe that she was so ready to part with so supremely precious a person. Fearing that she might relent, he wrote to his council requesting them to have her write a letter to her brother explaining her position, and expressing her earnest desire for the divorce.

Anne then wrote her mother and brother that she was honorably treated, and felt quite cheerful and contented. She hoped that no dispute would arise between her native land and England, where she purposed spending her life, and begged them in no way to interfere, no doubt dreading that if they did so it would be visited on her head.

In the meantime Anne passed her time very pleasantly at Richmond, dressed magnificently, and performed many deeds of charity; in short, she was happier than she had been since her departure from home.

Sixteen months later Katharine was thrown into prison, and then several attempts were made by various parties to bring about the reunion of Henry and Anne, but fortunately for her without success. From her retirement she heard

[[A.D. 1540.]] On the 28th of July, Cromwell was beheaded, and the pious, learned Doctor Barnes, who had been instrumental in bringing about the marriage, was burned at the stake.

[Illustration: 0424]

In August Henry visited his divorced wife at Richmond, and was so well received by her that he stayed to supper and seemed in excellent humor. Two days later he publicly introduced Katharine Howard at court as his queen. {421}of the misery the king endured when he became convinced of how his new wife had deceived him, and she must have been more than human if she did not feel somewhat gratified when the royal Bluebeard was compelled to part from her.

Katharine Howard enjoyed sixteen months of boundless influence over her husband, but her lucky star was soon to wane, and without being allowed to open her lips in her own defence save to her confessor, she walked like a sheep to the slaughter. Her execution took place February 13.

[[A.D. 1577.]] Anne of Cleves outlived Henry VIII. and his last wife, and died during the reign of Queen Mary at the Palace of Chelsea, aged forty-one.

[Illustration: 0425]

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