Despite the above answers to my questions, I believe I was my mother’s favourite daughter and I was certainly very close to her. I spent much of my time in her company and we would happily sit together over our needlework where we would exchange gossip while she gave me tips about sewing and other light household chores.
When I was twelve I was betrothed to Francis, the son and heir to the Duke of Lorraine. He was two years younger than me but this betrothal was annulled eight years later in 1535. Little did I know then how much of a problem this betrothal, one in which I never saw my ‘husband’ even once would cause me later in life. All I remember was that I was the centre of attraction at several balls and I received a few new hats and dresses. And then, as quickly as all this had started, it was over. At first it felt like a huge anticlimax but then I became used to the idea of being betrothed without having ever seen my future partner for life.
The first time I remember hearing anything about Henry the Eighth, the King of England, was about nine years ago when I heard that he had sent some of his soldiers over to fight in the battles between the Holy Roman Emperor and the Duke of Saxony. I was told that the Duke, together with some representatives of the Schmalkaldic League had sent some ambassadors over to England to ask Henry the Eighth to help them. I recall hearing my father talk about the frequent arrivals and departures both of the English ambassador and our own, but nothing came of all this frantic political activity. Of course, as a young woman, I was not involved in any of this and when I did ask a question or two, I was silenced with, “Hush, woman, this is men’s talk. It has nothing to do with you.”
The next time I remember hearing of the English king was when it was proposed that his daughter, Mary, marry my brother, William. Again there was much coming and going but, in the end, nothing happened. As far as I was concerned the only thing worth mentioning was that I learned a few words and phrases in English as I helped my mother to host our English guests.
A few months were to pass before our Duchy and the King of England were linked together again and that happened just over a year ago, soon after the king’s third wife, Queen Jane, had died.
This is how it came to pass.
John Hutton, one of the king’s ambassadors, had been asked to write a report about young ladies who might be considered suitable wives for the newly bereaved king. Apparently my name was mentioned in this report, but it was only a few months later that I discovered that Hutton’s description of me was not very flattering. He had written, ‘The Duke of Cleves has a daughter, but there is no great praise either of her personage or her beauty.’ What a terrible thing to say! He had never met me, but had based his report solely on malicious gossip and hearsay. Later I was told that this was because King Henry was still interested in marrying the Duchess of Milan who, according to Hutton, was ‘a goodly personage and of excellent beauty.’ I must admit that when I heard that despite this flattering report she had turned down the king’s offer of marriage I felt very happy. Little did I realise at the time that this refusal would have a great effect on my own rather humdrum provincial life.
Then the whole situation changed in the spring of this year, in 1539. Apparently the King of England must have had a change of heart, for he sent his new ambassador, Christopher Mont, to our Duchy. He was instructed to see whether my sister, Amalia, or I would make a suitable wife for his royal master, that is, also to become the future Queen of England. My mother told me that the ambassador who, unlike most Englishmen, could speak another language - in this case, German - was instructed to discover, ‘what shape, stature, proportions and complexion’ Amelia and I had and what were our ‘learning activities, behaviour and honest qualities.’
Again I felt somewhat insulted by this attitude but there was nothing I could do about it. I felt as if I were a prize cow or pig at a market being examined to see if I were worth the price. It seems that this ambassador had also been told to inform us that by marrying the King of England, Amalia or I would be bringing the highest and noblest honour to the Duchy of Cleves.
It was at this point in my life that I began to think seriously about being married to the English king and I began asking discreet questions about him. I must admit that the knowledge I gleaned from various sources was not very flattering. I learned that he had become estranged from his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, after fifteen years because she could not give him a son or, in fact, any children at all. I heard that he had set her aside, gave her hardly any money for herself or for her ladies-in-waiting while he amused himself with other ladies at court. It seems that he enjoyed himself mostly with a French-educated lady called Anne Boleyn whom he later married. Some people thought this was a bigamous act as he was still officially married to his first wife. However, he claimed that as he had been divorced at the time he was legally entitled to marry his second wife.
I know that my family upbringing and education had been to oppose the Pope and all that he stood for, but to go back on one’s word, especially when it was about the holy state of matrimony, was for me an unpardonable sin.
Then I heard that after waiting several years to marry Anne Boleyn, the marriage did not turn out to be a happy one at all. In fact, in the end, he could not stand her and so he had her put on trial. She was accused of committing incest and treason as well as of having sexual relations with several gentlemen at court. Of course she was found guilty and the king had her taken to this fortress in London called the Tower where she was executed. But even before this, he had begun flirting with another lady at court called Jane Seymour. He must have been in love with her because the day after he had Anne Boleyn executed he became betrothed to this Jane woman.
When I asked my mother why it was so important for him to be married, she told me that the king was obsessed with having a son to succeed him. She said that the king’s father, Henry the Seventh, was the first Tudor king. He had usurped the throne from King Richard the Third over fifty years earlier and had had only two sons: the present King Henry and his now dead brother, Arthur. Now, the present King Henry felt that in order to truly strengthen his reign and dynasty, he had to have another son in addition to the baby Prince Edward.
My mother also told me that he had married Jane Seymour only because she was so docile.
“Why, how was Anne Boleyn?” I asked.
“I never met her, my dear, but I heard that after the king married her, she became very noisy and petulant and that she and the king had great fights over religious matters. Apparently she tried to tell him what to do and he became very angry with her about this.”
I listened carefully but I found this difficult to understand. I never remember hearing my mother telling my father or my brother when he became the duke what to do.
“And so what do we learn from this, my daughter?” my mother asked.
“Always listen to and obey your husband,” I replied.
“That’s right,” my mother smiled and then we continued with our needlework. I did not question her but decided that my mother’s opinion of Anne Boleyn was really based on hearsay and stories that she had heard from the English ambassadors and messengers who had visited our castle.
And now I hear that the English king’s third marriage did not last very long either. It is true that she did give birth to a son but then she died of a fever a few days later. What a history: the first wife divorced, the second one executed and the third one dying at the young age of twenty-nine. And now my parents are considering marrying me off to this man!
And what else do I really know about this Henry? All I know is that he is a large man – ‘very corpulent’ – Miles Thompson, one of the English ambassador’s secretaries, whispered to me, and that apart from women, what he really loves is hunting.
“What else can you tell me about him?” I asked the secretary. “Personal things, not politics or things like that. What colour is his hair? Is it brown like mine or fair like yours?”
“He has copper-coloured hair and he is quite handsome, o
r…” - and here he looked around to see if anyone could overhear us as we stood in the castle courtyard – “he used to be quite handsome but now he has become very fat and has problems with his legs.”
“Why? Because he is very fat?” I asked.
“No, because he suffers from these fistulas – these ulcers - which keep running and I’ve been told smell quite disgusting, too. And when they really hurt him, he becomes very bad-tempered and shouts at everyone in sight.”
“Everyone? Even his courtiers?”
“Everyone: his courtiers, his noblemen and his servants. Only last week he shouted at me and told me that I was a flaxen-haired loon and an idiot to boot!”
I thought about this for a moment. I couldn’t imagine my brother, the Duke, behaving that way. He is far too well-behaved to shout at anyone in our court. He would just give them a harsh look or a quick word and that would be the end of the matter. Then came my next question. “Can he speak German?”
“No, but he knows French, Greek and Latin, and I think he knows some Biblical Hebrew as well.”
Then I asked him some more questions about the life at court in England and this is what he told me. He said that the most important man in England after the king was his chancellor or Kanzler as we call him here in Cleves. His name is Thomas Cromwell and he started out in life as a very simple worker. He was the son of a blacksmith and then he served as a soldier who fought in Italy and the Low Countries. Then he returned to England and he must have been quite hard-working and clever because he became the chief secretary and agent for the king’s first chancellor, Cardinal Wolsey. He must have been good at his office for when Wolsey died, the king appointed Cromwell to take his place. He became Chancellor of the Exchequer and was personally responsible to the king for carrying out all kinds of royal commands.
Miles Thompson, the secretary whom I told you about earlier, said that the king made Cromwell responsible for suppressing and destroying all the monasteries in England and transferring all the wealth to the king’s coffers. He also helped the king push for the Reformation of the Church and this led to both Cromwell and the king becoming very interested in the Duchy of Cleves. My brother, William, told me that the English were very keen on improving their diplomatic relationships with all sorts of duchies and states that followed the Lutheran and Protestant way of thinking. This is the situation here in Cleves and this is why the English have sent their ambassador, Nicholas Wotton, to see whether Amelia or I would make a suitable wife and queen for King Henry.
To be truthful, I do not know whether I am pleased with all this recent attention. On the one hand, I think it would be very interesting to be the Queen of England. I’m sure that it would be far more interesting than remaining here as a minor lady in a minor Rhineland duchy and I’m also sure it would be fascinating to live in the rich and exciting country that Miles described to me. Naturally I would have more dresses, jewellery and servants and I am certain that the palaces in London would be far grander than the castle I am living in here in Cleves.
But on the other hand, I would have to leave the country and the people I have known for the past twenty-four years and I would also have to leave my family. I’m not sure whether I’d miss my brother, William, very much as he is rather distant with me, especially as he loves to talk to me in a pompous and stern manner as if I were one of his underlings. I believe he thinks he should talk like this, both to me and to everyone else, as he has only recently become the duke following our father’s death in February. I know that I’d miss Amalia and all the good times we had together – the games we played as small children, the secrets we told each other at night once the lights had been put out and the happy hours we spent doing our needlework in the solarium.
Of course I’d miss my dear mother even though she was quite strict with me at times. I know she was like this because of her maternal feelings of love and concern and I hope that whenever I have children, I’ll look after them just as well. I know she did not want me to have a reputation as a woman of loose morals, something that I have heard about several of the French noblewomen I have heard spoken of.
But then of course there is the question of being married to a man such as King Henry the Eighth. Is he really as domineering as I have heard, or is this all an act, something put on for show? Are his courtiers and subjects really afraid of him or are these merely rumours put about by people who just love to gossip?
I know a ruler’s nobles and subjects love to tell stories about their king or duke and, in fact, about anyone in the ruling family. Heavens, haven’t I heard enough of such stories over the past years about my own and other ducal families here in the Rhineland? But for me, the question is, how true are the rumours and stories that I have heard about this English king?
Some things I know are facts. As I said, I know that he has had three wives; and that he has several magnificent palaces at Hampton Court, Whitehall and Greenwich and that Miles told me that the most magnificent one of all is at Nonsuch, which is in Surrey, on the southern bank of the River Thames. I also know that like us here in Cleves, he does not believe in the Roman Catholic Church and that it is very important for him that a husband and wife have the same religious beliefs.
There are also some things that I have heard about Henry that are not very pleasant to know. I have heard that he can be very cruel and unforgiving to anyone who crosses his path. Miles and another secretary told me that a few years ago when thousands of his subjects in the north of England rose up against him in what they called the Pilgrimage of Grace, he sent the Duke of Norfolk up there to suppress this uprising. Over two hundred people were hanged and that included some noblemen and churchmen. The duke then left these bodies hanging on gibbets at road junctions so everyone would know that the king would not tolerate any form of insurrection. I know that these people wanted to bring back the Roman Catholic Church, but did the king have to punish so many people in such a cruel manner? Would it not have been wiser and more statesmanlike to try and make the people see the error of their ways through persuasion and discussion in a more Christian way?
But I have also heard that the king can be very charming and generous to those he loves and respects and that he absolutely dotes on his baby son, Prince Edward. Miles said that nothing is too good for him and that all the prince’s servants adore the little boy. The king, it seems, is the most perfect and loving father, visiting his son whenever he can, and if he is too busy with the affairs of state, then he sends some of his ladies-in-waiting to report back to him about his son.
I tell you, I am torn in two about the possibility of marrying this man and I really do not know what to do or think. I do not want to refuse him as the Duchess of Milan or Marie of Guise did, but I am too frightened to agree to any proposal of marriage he may offer. Of course, in the end I may not have any choice in the matter. I am a twenty-four year old noblewoman who must marry soon. If not, I will be ‘left on the shelf’ as the English say and that I certainly do not want. Oh, what shall I do? I will have to have a long talk tonight with Amalia. Maybe she will have a solution. I really hope so, for soon I must decide what to do.
Chapter Four - Plans and a Betrothal
A spring day in 1539 found King Henry and his chancellor again seated at their favourite table by the window overlooking the large square courtyard at Hampton Court Palace. The sun was shining gently, the sky was clear and blue and a few white fluffy clouds were drifting in from the west. This idyllic picture was in complete contrast to the earlier scenes of torrential rain, ever-widening puddles and flooded gardens. Two glasses of hippocras wine - a favourite of both the king and his chancellor - were to be found half-hidden among the rolled up documents and open letters on the polished wooden table.
“Your Majesty,” said Cromwell as his master stood up to see better out of the window on to the courtyard below, “Please look at the signature at the foot of this document. Does it mean anything to you?”
“No, Thomas, it doesn’t,” replied the
king almost immediately. “But come and look here,” he urged his chief minister. “Here out of the window. It’s a sight more interesting than one of your diplomat’s scribbles. Just look at those two wenches crossing the courtyard over there…there, on the way to the kitchens. Oh, what I would give sometimes not to be king and be able to rut with wenches like that. Just take a look at the one in the brown skirt. Just look at her dukkies! Why, man, they’re nearly falling out of her bodice!”
Cromwell leaned over as instructed. It was true. The king did have a great view from this window – and in more ways than one.
“Now you know why I like my work-table near the window,” Henry licked his lips lasciviously. “Doesn’t looking at these wenches from time to time make our work more enjoyable?”
Cromwell agreed. It was true that he also enjoyed seeing young ladies around the palace, especially since his wife, Elizabeth, had died some twelve years earlier. However, unlike the king, if he felt the need for some intimate female company, he would send out a servant to one of the stews at Southwark, south of the river. The man would bring back one of the local harlots, the ‘Winchester geese’ as they were called locally, to fulfill his needs.
For a few minutes, the King of England and his chief minister lusted with their eyes and minds after the two young women below. It was only when these beautiful creatures had disappeared from view into the kitchen did the two most powerful men in the kingdom reluctantly return to their table to deal with the affairs of state.
“Thomas, this hippocras is the best I’ve supped for some time,” Henry said, swirling the wine around in his mouth. He then wiped a few drops off his beard with the back of his hand and asked his chancellor if he could not taste the cinnamon and cloves in it.
“I certainly can, Your Majesty, but I prefer my wines to be a little less sweet,”
“Ah, Thomas, that reflects your dry personality. I, as you well know,” Henry added, throwing out his chest, “prefer the richer and sweeter wines. But enough of wine and wenches - at least for the time being. Let’s be serious and concentrate on the report ambassador Wotton gave you.”
Anne of Cleves- Unbeloved Page 4