January 6, 1540—Among the six wives of Henry VIII, the fourth, Anne of Cleves might have been the smartest of the bunch. Oh, sure—Catherine of Aragon, particularly early in her marriage, helped her younger mate steer through the shark-infested diplomacy of Europe, and Anne Boleyn was an ace conniver.
But in the case of Anne of Cleves, you have a 24-year-old woman who wed the British monarch on this date and, despite what he claimed was his physical revulsion for her, she not only ended up leaving the marriage early but came out of the deal materially better than when she entered it.
But when there’s a disaster, someone’s got to pay. It happened to FEMA head Michael (“Heckuva job, Brownie”) Brown, who lost his position after Hurricane Katrina. It happened this week to Bill Sheridan, when the schemes devised by the New York Giants’ defensive coach led to lopsided losses in the final two games.
The only question, in the case of the woman Henry called his “Flanders Mare,” was who would meet a similar fate. There were three possibilities:
* Anne of Cleves—An early, extremely promising candidate for the Tower of London (where Henry put Wife #2, Anne Boleyn), but nothing came of it. Anne couldn’t help it if she was homely (accent on “if”—we’ll get to that in a minute)—they had no plastic surgeons or personal trainers in those days. Besides, Anne made it easy for Henry. The marriage had never been consummated, she said—instead of sleeping with her, Henry had merely kissed her on the forehead. This tale of lack of physical intimacy had a strong element of truth, because by this time, no matter how homely Anne might have been, she couldn’t compete with Henry, who was no longer the “rock star” type that the producers of The Tudors profess to find in Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, but was, instead, morbidly obese.
* Hans Holbein the Younger—Not only did they not have paid trainers or plastic surgeons in Tudor England, but they had no YouTube and no digital cameras—meaning that painters were increasingly the go-to guys in depicting a woman’s charms. Henry’s surprised encounter after meeting his bethrothed on New Year’s Eve left him confused enough to say that he expected something different from Holbein’s portrait. But Holbein went on to paint more pictures of the Tudor court, including one of Henry just before the painter died.
* Thomas Cromwell, the first Earl of Essex. Cromwell had pushed for the marriage to ensure dynastic stability in England. Of course it didn’t work out as planned.
One of the villains of A Man for All Seasons for ensuring the downfall of Sir Thomas More, Cromwell became the fall guy in the Cleves affair. It was bad enough that Henry found Anne physically distasteful (though this might have been royal spin on her rejection of him; she had, after all, reacted with alarm when the impetuous king came upon his bride-to-be on New Year’s Eve), but now the geostrategic reason that Cromwell cited—i.e., Anne’s brother, the Duke of Cleves (with a wonderful nickname: “Wilhelm the Rich”) would make a wonderful ally in case England was invaded by other Catholic European monarchs across the English Channel—now held less appeal. Wilhelm was squabbling with the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, over a neighboring duchy, and Henry did not want an ally to drag him into his own fights.
Grateful for Anne’s readiness to accede to an annulment, Henry gave her a title—the intriguing if inaccurate “King’s Sister”—and a nice new home, Hever Castle, where she remained the rest of her life. His eye had already lit on a Pretty Young Thing, Catherine Howard, who would go on to break his heart and be executed.
But before she met her maker, Cromwell met his. A month before Henry’s marriage to Anne was declared null and void, the king’s chancellor was arrested. On July 28, 1540, he was executed on the pretext of involvement in a Lutheran conspiracy. The scapegoat for the disaster had been found.
But in the case of Anne of Cleves, you have a 24-year-old woman who wed the British monarch on this date and, despite what he claimed was his physical revulsion for her, she not only ended up leaving the marriage early but came out of the deal materially better than when she entered it.
But when there’s a disaster, someone’s got to pay. It happened to FEMA head Michael (“Heckuva job, Brownie”) Brown, who lost his position after Hurricane Katrina. It happened this week to Bill Sheridan, when the schemes devised by the New York Giants’ defensive coach led to lopsided losses in the final two games.
The only question, in the case of the woman Henry called his “Flanders Mare,” was who would meet a similar fate. There were three possibilities:
* Anne of Cleves—An early, extremely promising candidate for the Tower of London (where Henry put Wife #2, Anne Boleyn), but nothing came of it. Anne couldn’t help it if she was homely (accent on “if”—we’ll get to that in a minute)—they had no plastic surgeons or personal trainers in those days. Besides, Anne made it easy for Henry. The marriage had never been consummated, she said—instead of sleeping with her, Henry had merely kissed her on the forehead. This tale of lack of physical intimacy had a strong element of truth, because by this time, no matter how homely Anne might have been, she couldn’t compete with Henry, who was no longer the “rock star” type that the producers of The Tudors profess to find in Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, but was, instead, morbidly obese.
* Hans Holbein the Younger—Not only did they not have paid trainers or plastic surgeons in Tudor England, but they had no YouTube and no digital cameras—meaning that painters were increasingly the go-to guys in depicting a woman’s charms. Henry’s surprised encounter after meeting his bethrothed on New Year’s Eve left him confused enough to say that he expected something different from Holbein’s portrait. But Holbein went on to paint more pictures of the Tudor court, including one of Henry just before the painter died.
* Thomas Cromwell, the first Earl of Essex. Cromwell had pushed for the marriage to ensure dynastic stability in England. Of course it didn’t work out as planned.
One of the villains of A Man for All Seasons for ensuring the downfall of Sir Thomas More, Cromwell became the fall guy in the Cleves affair. It was bad enough that Henry found Anne physically distasteful (though this might have been royal spin on her rejection of him; she had, after all, reacted with alarm when the impetuous king came upon his bride-to-be on New Year’s Eve), but now the geostrategic reason that Cromwell cited—i.e., Anne’s brother, the Duke of Cleves (with a wonderful nickname: “Wilhelm the Rich”) would make a wonderful ally in case England was invaded by other Catholic European monarchs across the English Channel—now held less appeal. Wilhelm was squabbling with the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, over a neighboring duchy, and Henry did not want an ally to drag him into his own fights.
Grateful for Anne’s readiness to accede to an annulment, Henry gave her a title—the intriguing if inaccurate “King’s Sister”—and a nice new home, Hever Castle, where she remained the rest of her life. His eye had already lit on a Pretty Young Thing, Catherine Howard, who would go on to break his heart and be executed.
But before she met her maker, Cromwell met his. A month before Henry’s marriage to Anne was declared null and void, the king’s chancellor was arrested. On July 28, 1540, he was executed on the pretext of involvement in a Lutheran conspiracy. The scapegoat for the disaster had been found.
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