Divorced II (From the Archive)

wife number four. After weeks of travel, Anne enterr entourage made it to Rochester in England. On New Year's Eve, the final day of fifteen thirty nine, she was staying there at the Bishop's Palace. In three days time she would make her way to London, where she was supposed to meet her future husband for the first time. On New Year's Day, Anne found herself gazing out the window of her bedchamber into the courtroom below, where a celebratory

bull baiting was occurring. Anne didn't speak English, only German, and while her escorts had been nothing but polite and deferential to her, she was still in an alien country where the clothings, customs, even the smiles could be sinister. They had warned her that the English court was a dangerous place. Watching the men dance around the animals in the courtyard below, the dog dodging in between the legs of the bull, Anne wondered if she had come to

England to be predator or prey. She had the uneasy sense that the position of queen wasn't a spectator role, and the bull baiting never ends well for either the dog or the bull. The English seemed to enjoy their sports when they end in blood. It was at that moment that her chamber door flung open, and nine men wearing hooded cloaks swept into the room. Anne screamed, but before the sound had even left her mouth, the tallest of the men had ensnared her in his arms and

attempted to sweep her into a kiss. Anne wriggled away, disgusted and called for help In German. She begged her attendants for an explanation. The men didn't seem to mean any harm. In fact, they had begun to laugh. The man who had tried to kiss her, she saw, who was not only the tallest but also the widest, had an uneasy gait and a glint of red hair that flashed from beneath his hood. After a few words in English that Anne couldn't comprehend, all of the men walked away.

It was a game, When of her attendants explained to her a courtly game of chivalry. The men were pretending to be robin Hood or romantic heroes. I don't understand, Anne replied, I'm going to marry the king. No, why would anyone insult him by trying to compromise is my honor? Anne got her answer a moment later, when the same retinue of men re entered her chamber, this time without their cloaks. Now the tall broad man wore purple and gold. His hair and beard were red, and as he stepped forward,

everyone around Anne lowered into a bow. Anne bowed too. Of course, the man was King Henry the Eighth himself, Not content to wait three days to see his bride. Henry had come to surprise her early in disguise, imagining that she would fall instantly in love, as soulmates do. It would be like something out of the stories of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, the beautiful princess recognizing her love even as he's disguised as

a common knave. Henry had played masquerade games in court decades. His courtiers were well practiced in both treating him with nothing but flattery when he was in his flimsy disguises, and at feigning delighted surprise when the king unmasked himself. But Anne had never seen Henry before, let alone heard of his proclivity for self indulgent theatrics. To her, here was just a strange middle aged man attempting to assault her days before her wedding. As soon as she saw

the King in his royal finery. She lowered her face to the floor to avoid the discomfort of their mutual humiliation, but King Henry just laughed and raised her up and kissed her on the cheek. The two made polite conversation with an interpreter and bid each other goodbye until they would see each other in London in a few days time.

The disaster, it seemed, had been averted by their mutual good humor, But the moment Henry left the Bishop's palace, the good humor dissolved from his face, replaced with a scowl. He turned to his minister, Thomas Cromwell, riding next to him on a horse. I like her not, Henry said. It was an inauspicious start to an inauspicious marriage. Though Anne of Cleaves is now mainly remembered for being less attractive than her portrait made her out to be, her

story goes much deeper than that. She spent her life in England outliving all five of Henry's other wives, something between a hostage and a casualty of Henry the Eighth's narcissism and ego. She was a woman who did what it took to survive. I'm Danish Schwartz, and this is noble blood. It had been two years since Henry's third wife, Jane Seymour, died after giving birth to their son, Edward.

Henry of course felt the immense relief at having a male heir, a toddler whom everyone assured him was perfectly healthy. But two years without a wife was enough time in mourning. Besides, everyone knows you need a second son, just in case a backup. Henry already had a tiny Prince of Wales, and now he wanted a baby Duke of York. Henry's first choice of bride was the beautiful French widow Madame

de Longueville born Mary of Geese. Henry sent envoys to France to try to negotiate to try to entice her to become the fourth Queen of England, but Mary of Geese was already spoken for, engaged to the young and very handsome King James of Scotland. Though Henry demanded some diplomatic wheedling to try to break up their engagement, it was a lost cause. Both Mary of Geese and King

James of Scotland were attractive and in their twenties. Henry was in his late forties, already expanding with a swollen leg that needed to be periodically punctured to let the ooze out. Mary politely declined his offer and married James. A little stung, Henry asked the French ambassador to assemble all of the eligible French women at the same manor house in Calais so he Henry could come by and choose one. The King of France, Francis the First, was

outraged when he heard Henry's proposition. It is not our custom, he wrote back, to display women of noble rank like horses for sale. Henry would need to look further afield to find his next bride. In Brussels, Henry's ambassador, Thomas Rothsley, had finally convinced the beautiful Christina of Denmark to sit for a portrait so that they could send it back to Henry and he could see what she looked like.

Christina was tall and willowy. She had dimples when she smiled, one in each cheek and one that appeared in her chin when she was laughing. She was widely praised among the courts of Europe for her gentle nature. People whispered that she was also brilliant she spoke three languages. She also had very little interest in King Henry the Eighth.

Christina knew all about what had happened to Catherine of Aragon so cruelly disposed of, and to Anne Boleyn, and the third one had died too, hadn't she No, it was much safer not to be a wife at the mercy of Henry's fickle whims and mercurial mood swings. While Christina posed for her portrait, Rosley tried to convince her of he Henry's charms. He told her that Henry was gentle and kind and good. Christina couldn't help but laugh at that, hard enough that the dimple in her chin appeared.

I would marry King Henry, she said, if I only had an extra head to spare. Another dead end and another blow to the ego of the king who had once been celebrated for his looks and charm. And now the need for Henry to make a diplomatic marriage was increasing.

Thanks to the kerfuffle of divorcing Catherine of Aragon and marrying Anne Boleyn, Henry was excommunicated, which meant any neighboring country could invade England and claim it was in the name of the Church, and the Catholic nations around England seemed to be getting pretty cozy. King Francis the First and the Holy Roman Emperor Charles the Fifth looked to be forging a little friendship. The two of them were gallivanting around the Louver Palace together while the English ambassador

present was assigned the smallest, least hospitable rooms possible. If the two of them united and attacked England, Henry had very few international allies who would help him. Henry had married for love before, and now he needed a foreign bride. Though Henry was excommunicated, he still wasn't a Lutheran, which limited his options for a bride a bit. What about Cleves Julich, Henry's adviser, Thomas Cromwell offered one day. Their new duke was a reformed Catholic, but no friend of

the pope, and he had an unmarried sister. When Rothsley went to visit Cleaves, Germanic custom meant that the unmarried girl appeared wearing heavy veils. Well, Henry bellowed when Rosley returned, so much prettier than Christina of Denmark. Rothesley assured the King, but Henry didn't need to take his word for it. He had commissioned a portrait of the girl, Anne of Cleaves by Hans Holbein, and when the portrait came back,

Henry was entranced. She had a gentle, kind face and heavy lidded eyes that made her look both mysterious and wise. Henry spent hours staring at the portrait, imagining his hands around her tiny waist and his lips upon her perfect smooth cheeks. The match was set. Twenty four year old Anne of Cleaves, who had never before left the cloistered confines of her family, was going to become the next

Queen of England. Though Anne of Cleaves had a sterling noble lineage on both sides of her family, she was almost entirely unprepared for life in the English court. No one had ever really believed she would marry higher than being a duchess. She spoke only German, no English or French, and she was untrained in music and poetry. The only dances she knew were the German ones she had grown

up with. But prepared or not, the chance to become the Queen of England was not something her family was going to refuse, especially because being unmarried at twenty four, Anne was beginning to become a bit of an embarrassment.

Henry wanted her to travel north via Antwerp on her way to England so she wouldn't have to pass through the lands of the Holy Roman Emperor, but that would necessitate a longer sea voyage, and Anne's mother didn't want to risk Anne's complexion being damaged by the salty sea air.

After all, Henry only wanted her because he liked what he saw in the portrait, so permission was asked and granted by Charles the Fifth, and Anne and her retinue of nearly three hundred people traveled across Europe towards her new future in Calais, where Anne was set to board a boat across the English Channel. Anne was delayed two weeks by foul weather. Rothsley was apologetic. He brought Anne to see the ship all ready for her departure, dripping

in festive streamers and ribbons and banners. No matter, Anne said, I'll take this time to learn of my new people and my new husband. While staying in Calais at the home of Lord and Lady Lisel, Anne asked Rothsley for his help via translator. Rothsley taught Anne how to play

Henry's favorite card game called Scent. Anne also requested that Rothsley bring English noblemen and ladies to dine with her, so that she could learn English table manners and become more accustomed to the patter of their jokes and the pattern of their speech. She didn't understand the language, but she smiled and laughed alongside them. All the same letters arrived for Henry describing how charming and good natured his bride on the way was. Henry was jittery with anticipation.

He was supposed to spend Christmas with Anne, but the weather delay meant he spent it alone. He paced his palaces, waiting for her to arrive, like a package to be delivered. Finally, by New Year's Eve, Anne had made it to Richmond, and Henry, not willing to wait any longer, rode out to surprise her. That was when he first appeared to her in his robin hood costume, imagining that she would be so taken by his handsomeness that she would succumb immediately.

Imminent marriage be damned. These were the sort of courtly games that Henry was used to everyone around him indulging him in. Catherine of Erica had grown up in the great courts of Europe. She would have known exactly how to react and clever. Anne Boleyn would have also perfectly matched Henry in this game. But Anne of Cleves was a complete stranger and totally unaware of both what Henry looked like and of what the game she was supposed

to be playing was. She left Henry humiliated, smarting from the pushed down knowledge that maybe he was no longer as handsome as he once was. Well, what of it, Henry thought, She is not so pretty herself, not nearly as pretty as that portrait made her out to be. His first three marriages had been love matches with women who matched him in wits and flattered him with affection. Now Henry was being roped into a diplomatic marriage with a stranger, and he did not care for it one bit.

Anne of Cleaves arrived in London in a drawn chariot flanked by one hundred horsemen wearing livery embroidered with golden lions. Anne was escorted to a massive pavilion with lit fires inside where she was dressed in a gold gown with a round skirt in the Dutch fashion, and given a

round pearl bonnet to set atop her head. As for Henry, when she arrived, he played the part of the loving groom, perfectly smiling and extending his arms and kissing her in welcome But as soon as the pageant was over he turned to Cromwell, Get me out of this marriage, he said, But it was too late. The wheels of diplomacy had already been set into motion. If Henry were to reject Anne at this point, he would anger not only Anne in her powerful family, but all of their allies across Germany,

especially if he was rejecting her for no good reason. Cromwell, for his part, tried his best back. When Anne had been ten, she had been temporarily engaged to the Duke of Lorraine. If she was pre contracted, that would avoid the marriage arrangement with Henry. The ambassador from Cleaves was confused when Cromwell brought it up to him. She was a child, then, he said, it was before the age of consent. No one actually believes it was a legitimate engagement.

Cromwell knew that well enough but still Cromwell had the confused and scrambling ambassador from Cleaves agreed to send for the proper paperwork back in Germany that would prove that Anne was completely free and clear to marry Henry as everyone knew. The two were married. On January sixth, fifteen forty.

his boat without a stiff breeze. Young virginal Anne, who had only been instructed with the vaguest possible descriptions of what was expected of her, to spend the night asleep next to her new husband. The next morning, Henry confronted Cromwell. I like her not before, but now I like her much less. He consulted his doctors about his sexual problems, while making it very clear to anyone who would listen that it was not his fault. I mean I saw

the way her breasts and her belly sagged. Henry said, she probably wasn't even a virgin.

To make matters worse, the Franco imperial threat that Cromwell had warned about never actually materialized, which meant that this diplomatic marriage, which had seemed so important, was now basically worthless. Though Anne was still in the slow process of learning English, it was abundantly clear that Henry wasn't pleased with her. He kissed her good morning and good night, and came to her bedroom, but his increasing chill was obvious in

any language. Anne began wearing a French hood, like the kind that Anne Boleyn used to wear, one that showed off her beautiful blonde hair, but Henry paid her no attention. He much preferred flirting with the very young Katherine Howard, a very pretty teenager who, like the late Anne Boleyn, was a niece of the powerful Duke of Norfolk. When it was time for Anne of Cleaves to establish her own household at Greenwich, all of her ladies in waiting

were Henry's choice. Anne requested that one of the ladies be Catherine Beset, the daughter of Lord Liesl, who had been so warm and hospitable to her during her two weeks stay in Calais, but Henry rejected the proposition, not attractive enough. If he was going to have to be married to an ugly wife, he at least wanted to be surrounded by attractive ladies in waiting. Of course, Catherine

Howard was given a position outside the bedroom. Anne of Cleaves was finding that she was good at being queen, and she was, for the most part enjoying it. Though she had been Catholic, of course, she converted to Anglicanism when she married Henry. The Reformers loved her, and the people loved her, mostly because she wasn't that social climbing little nobody Catherine Howard, who seemed to be monopolizing all of the King's attention. Everyone seemed to find Anne of

Cleaves charming, everyone except her husband. Even after three wives. One thing remained consistent about Henry the Eighth. When he was done with a woman, he wanted her out of sight so he didn't have to deal with her himself. Late in the spring, just months after their wedding, Anne got word that Henry wanted her household moved to Richmond, far from the plague in London. She was told it was a thin excuse. I'm going the way of Catherine of Arragon, She told one of her ladies. He's disposing

of me. What power did she have to stop him. She was in a foreign country where she didn't speak the language and had no power. Her brother seemed very far away, and anyway, she believed it was her fault. If she had been able to consummate the marriage with Henry, none of this would be happening. In the middle of the night on June twenty fourth, a messenger arrived and an interpreter delivered the news to Anne. That the King was beginning an investigation to determine whether or not their

marriage was valid. With extraordinary composure, Anne signed the request. Anna, daughter of Cleaves, thanked the man and went about her business. Her confusion, her shame, her hurt, her fear. All of that was dealt with. Cromwell knew he was hanging on by a thin rope. After all, the marriage to Anne of Cleaves had been his idea all along, and now it was a disaster. He needs to figure out a way to give the King the divorce he wanted and fast.

During the investigation, two of Anne's ladies testified they had talked with the brand new queen a few weeks after her wedding and inquired as to whether a little prince might be on the way. According to them, Anne said that the King kissed her good night and fell asleep, and then in the morning bid her farewell. Anne had looked at the ladies with wide doe eyes. That's enough, right,

she asked. That story became the gossip of court, repeated endlessly until ultimately it became an anecdote of history to prove that Anne of Cleaves was not only a virgin, but so innocent that she didn't even know what the act of sex was. The truth of it was those two ladies were trying to tell Henry's commission what they wanted to hear, proof that the marriage was never consummated. Anyway,

Anne wasn't nearly fluent in English at that point. If that private conversation had taken place, it would have been a comedy of confusion on both sides. Henry's assembly of clergymen examined the charges, first that Anne of Cleaves had already been betrothed, second that the wedding was never consummated, but of course not because Henry was impotent, And third that Henry had never consented to the marriage. I mean, yes, they said, he consented in his manner and fashion of behavior,

but inside, inside he was troubled. On July seventh, the marriage was deemed invalid. Anne received the news with genuine grace after the trouble Catherine of Aragon had given him. Henry was so relieved that Anne wasn't going to put up a fight that he granted her an extremely generous settlement, two palaces, a large annual income, furniture land, a household. Anne had only one request that her former stepdaughter Elizabeth might be allowed to visit her every once in a while,

and Henry gladly accepted. Of course, he wrote, I know how this annulment pains her, considering the great love and affection which she seems to have for my person. Henry did require one thing of Anne that caused her to struggle to write a letter to her brother telling him of the new arrangement, so that he wouldn't be angry at Henry. Anne swallowed the humiliation and wrote that her body remained in the same integrity with which she brought it to England, and that the King had quote kindly

adopted her as his beloved sister. She asked her brother to treat Henry with kindness and told him that she would be staying in England as required by the terms of their settlement. Anne's family privately was of course outraged. Her sister always continued to refer to her as the Queen of England, and they never blamed her. Everyone knew what a nightmare Henry was when it came to women,

and from the people of England. There came a massive outpouring of public sympathy towards the woman jilted for a teenage would be mistress. With marriage behind them and the pressures of the wedding bed gone, Henry and Anne's relationship vastly improved, especially once Anne became fluent enough in English for the pair to talk and realize they actually had a lot in common. Anne lived happily enough, making a mini Germany of her household, and, according to one observer,

wearing new dresses every day. About a year after Little Katherine Howard, former Lady in waiting, became Queen, Anne of Cleaves, came to Hampton Court for New Year's Catherine was terrified and insecure, unsure what the protocol was for a former queen to come and greet her, but Anne of Cleaves was grace itself. She brought a New Year's gift of horses for the couple and greeted Catherine with a deep bow.

Henry came in, kissed Anne, and the three of them had what was, by all accounts, the least awkward dinner among exes in history. Still gracious as she was, Anne was still a little secretly pleased to hear about Catherine's fall. Anne even thought that maybe she would get a second chance of being queen now that he had gotten his fling out of the way, maybe Henry would want to

remarry her, but unfortunately that hope was dashed. Anne's former stepdaughter, Mary Mary Tudor, came to visit Anne at Richmond, but had to leave suddenly. Anne found out why two weeks later, when Henry came by to tell her that he had gotten married to a woman named Catherine Parr. Anne never married again. In her mind, she was always still married

to Henry the Eighth. After his death, she even briefly tried to overturn the annulment ruling to make her settlement more generous, but the council of the brand new young

King Edward didn't bite. With Henry's death, Anne's status was reduced from that of the king's sister to the king's aunt, so although she lived comfortably, her position was still limited, especially when her brother lost his lands to the Holy Roman Emperor, which meant that even if she wanted to give up her English property, she wouldn't be able to return home.

win over everyone else. That's the story of Anne of Cleves's brief marriage to Henry the Eighth, But stick around after a sponsor break for a little bit more about the marriage's consequences. Anne managed to get out of her marriage to King Henry the Eighth with her head, but the same wasn't true for Thomas Cromwell, Henry's former chief minister.

Bromwell had been the one who pushed Henry into the marriage with Anne, who told him that France and the Holy Roman Emperor were going to forge an alliance, and Cromwell had maybe overplayed Anne's beauty to make sure that Henry accepted the match. While the Council was examining the validity of Henry's marriage to Anne of Cleaves in the summer of fifteen forty, Cromwell was thrown into the Tower of London. Cromwell was beheaded without a trial on charges

of treason to the delight of his political enemies. There's always a cost for a bad marriage with Henry the Eighth. Noble Blood is a production of iHeartRadio and Grim and Mild from Aaron Mankey. Noble Blood is hosted by me Danash Schwartz, with additional writing and research by Hannah Johnston, Annaswick, Courtney Sender, Amy Hit and Julia Milani. The show is edited and produced by Jesse Funk, with supervising producer rima il Kaali and executive producers Aaron Manke, Trevor Young, and

Matt Frederick. For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows.