Wednesday, 26 October 2016

The Flanders Mare: When Tudor Tinder Went Wrong


Amongst the plethora of work, both historical and in popular culture, on the six wives of Henry VIII there is relatively little on Anne of Cleves. To take everyone back to Year 8 briefly Anne of Cleves was a German princess and Henry’s fourth wife. Their marriage lasted seven months which was short even by Henry’s post-1533 standards with Henry apparently refusing to consummate the marriage owing to Anne’s resemblance to a horse. She lived out the rest of her life in relative anonymity with the title “The King’s Beloved Sister” outliving Henry and even his son Edward VI before dying in 1557.

History has not been kind to Anne. She has been stuck with the horrible sobriquet “The Flanders Mare” and a legacy of not looking like her portrait. This is hardly a fair representation of a woman who was tasked with providing further heirs for a king still grieving the loss of his third wife and failing to cope with his declining mental and physical health. Henry had been somewhat cajoled into remarrying in 1539 and, with the rest of Europe being inconveniently Catholic, there was a growing threat of war. Hans Holbein was tasked with producing portraits of Europe’s eligible Protestant princesses.

A trip to the National Portrait Gallery (or a quick flick through on Google Images) will give you a good idea of Holbein’s work. Henry had insisted that the artist should not flatter Anne of Cleves or her sister Amalia in his portraits. Yes, Henry was also weighing up the option of marrying Anne’s sister and picked the one he fancied most. Here’s what Holbein produced. Maybe if he’d finished the one of Amalia history would have been different.

 Anne of Cleves

Amalia of Cleves

The beauty of commissioning a portrait is, unless you’re going down the Oliver Cromwell route, the artist will take a few liberties to make the subject look their best. Henry was attracted to Anne’s portrait and Holbein’s work was supported by the comments of his contemporaries such as Charles de Marillac, the French Ambassador. A marriage treaty was agreed and, despite Henry’s reservations after their first meeting, they were married on 6th January 1540.

It’s hard to believe that Henry refused to consummate the marriage considering his track record. That being said the legal ramifications of a divorce, as displayed in his bitter wrangling with Catherine of Aragon, meant that Henry would be keen to avoid any complications were he to want out of the marriage contract. Also the fact that he felt the need for his physician to record that he had experienced "duas pollutiones nocturnas in somno" on their wedding night (look it up, Latin makes a lot of things sound prettier) suggest he was keen to make the lack of consummation clear. Within six months Anne had been asked to leave court and been informed of Henry's desire to remarry. The annulment was agreed on 9th July 1540. 

It is indisputable that Henry was not as attracted to Anne of Cleves in person as he was to her portrait. For Anne to be remembered for this alone, however, seems beyond harsh. There were more significant reasons that their marriage did not work. Anne came from a strong Protestant family whose interpretation of reformed religion could have become problematic in time owing to Henry effectively being a Catholic in everything but name (although Anne did adopt Henry’s pseudo-Anglican faith and even converted to Catholicism later in life). Anne was also seen as dour and ill-adjusted to life in Henry’s elaborate and indulgent court. I would argue that the main issue for Anne was that she was not Jane Seymour. Anne was never going to be Jane Seymour and, as his subsequent marriages showed, neither were Catherine Howard or Catherine Parr. Being married to Henry VIII after 1537 was the matrimonial equivalent of the England manager’s job and at least Anne of Cleves lasted longer than Sam Allardyce.

Anne of Cleves did not live a particularly thrilling life following her divorce from Henry VIII but to survive in England through the comparatively turbulent reigns of Edward VI and Mary I is not to be sniffed at. Moreover, she deserves a great deal better than being remembered for not being as attractive as her portrait.