(1539-1540.)

At the period which we have now reached, Henry VIII. displayed in a more and more marked manner that autocratic disposition which submits to no control. He lifted up or cast down; he crowned men with honors or sent them to the scaffold. He pronounced things white or black as suited him, and there was no other rule but his own absolute and arbitrary power. A simple and modest princess was one of the first to learn by experience that he was a despot in his family as well as in church and state.

ANNE OF CLEVES.

Henry had now been a widower for two years—a widower against his will; for immediately after the death of Jane Seymour he had sought in almost all quarters for a wife, but he had failed. The two great Continental sovereigns had just been reconciled with each other, and the emperor had even cast a slight upon the king of England in the affair of the duchess of Milan. Henry was therefore now desirous of contracting a marriage which should give offence to Charles, and should at the same time win for himself allies among the enemies of that potentate. Cromwell, for his part, felt the ground tremble under his feet; Norfolk and Gardiner had confirmed their triumph by getting the Six Articles passed. The vicegerent was therefore aiming to strengthen at once his own position and that of the Reformation, both of them impaired. Some have supposed it possible that his scheme was to unite the nations of the Germanic race, England, Germany, and the North, in support of the Reformation against the nations of the Latin race. We do not think that Cromwell went so far as this. A young Protestant princess, Anne, daughter of the duke of Cleves and sister-in-law of the elector of Saxony, who consequently possessed both the religious and the political qualifications looked for by the king and his minister, was proposed to Henry by his ambassadors on the Continent, and Cromwell immediately took the matter in hand. This union would bring the king of England into intimate relations with the Protestant princes, and would ensure, he thought, the triumph of the Reformation in England, for Henry's wives appeared to have great influence over him, at least so long as they were in favor. Henry was, however, seeking something more in his betrothed than diplomatic advantages. Cromwell knew this, and did not fail to make use of that argument. 'Every one praises the beauty of this lady,' he wrote to the king (March 18, 1539), 'and it is said that she surpasses all other women, even the duchess of Milan. She excels the latter both in the features of her countenance and in her whole figure as much as the golden sun excelleth the silver moon.[304] Her portrait shall be sent you. At the same time, every one speaks of her virtue, her chastity, her modesty, and the seriousness of her aspect.' The portrait of Anne, painted by Holbein, was presented to the king, and it gave him the idea of a lady not only very beautiful, but of tall and majestic stature. He was charmed and hesitated no longer. On September 16, the Count Palatine of the Rhine and other ambassadors of the elector of Saxony and the duke of Cleves arrived at Windsor. Cromwell having announced them to the king, the latter desired his minister to put all other matters out of his head, saving this only.[305] The affair was arranged, and the ambassadors on their departure received magnificent presents.

The princess, whose father was dead and had been succeeded by his son, left Cleves at the close of the year 1539, in severe winter weather. Her suite numbered two hundred and sixty-three persons, among them a great many seigneurs, thirteen trumpeters, and two hundred and twenty-eight horses. The earl of Southampton, Lord Howard, and four hundred other noblemen and gentlemen, arrayed in damask, satin, and velvet, went a mile out of Calais to escort her. The superb cortége entered the town, and came in sight of the English vessels decorated with a hundred banners of silk and gold, and the marines all under arms. As soon as the princess appeared the trumpets sounded, volleys of cannon succeeded each other, and so dense was the smoke that the members of the suite could no longer see each other. Every one was in admiration. After a repast provided by Southampton, there were jousts and tourneys. The progress of the princess being delayed by rough weather, Southampton, aware of the impatience of his master, felt it necessary to write to him to remember 'that neither the winds nor the seas obey the commands of men.' He added that 'the surpassing beauty of the princess did not fall short of what had been told him.' Anne was of simple character and timid disposition, and very desirous of pleasing the king; and she dreaded making her appearance at the famous and sumptuous court of Henry VIII. Southampton having called the next day to pay his respects to her, she invited him to play with her some game at cards which the king liked, with a view to her learning it and being able to play with his majesty. The earl took his seat at the card-table in company with Anne and Lord William Howard, while other courtiers stood behind the princess and taught her the game. 'I can assure your majesty,' wrote the courtier, 'that she plays with as much grace and dignity as any noble lady that I ever saw in my life.' Anne, resolved on serving her apprenticeship to the manners of the court, begged Southampton to return to sup with her, bringing with him some of the nobles, because she was 'much desirous to see the manner and fashion of Englishmen sitting at their meat.' The earl replied that this would be contrary to English custom; but at length he yielded to her wish.[306]

HER ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND.

As soon as the weather appeared more promising, the princess and her suite crossed the Channel and reached Dover, whence, in the midst of a violent storm, they proceeded to Canterbury. The archbishop, accompanied by five bishops, received Anne in his episcopal town, in a high wind and heavy rain; the princess appearing as if she might be the sun which was to disperse the fogs and the darkness of England, and to bring about there the triumph of evangelical light. Anne went on to Rochester, about half way between Canterbury and London. The king, unable to rest, eagerly longing to see his intended spouse, set out accompanied by his grand equerry, Sir Anthony Brown, and went incognito to Rochester.[307] He was announced, and entered the room in which the princess was; but no sooner had he crossed the threshold and seen Anne, than he stopped confused and troubled. Never had any man been more deceived in his expectation. His imagination—that mistress of error and of falsehood, as it has been called—had depicted to him a beauty full of majesty and grace; and one glance had dispersed all his dreams. Anne was good and well-meaning, but rather weak-minded. Her features were coarse; her brown complexion was not at all like roses and lilies; she was very corpulent, and her manners were awkward. Henry had exquisite good taste; he could appreciate beauties and defects, especially in the figure, the bearing, and the attire of a woman. Taste is not without its corresponding distaste. Instead of love, the king felt for Anne only repugnance and aversion. Struck with astonishment and alarm, he stood before her, amazed and silent. Moreover, any conversation would have been impossible, for Anne was not acquainted with English nor Henry with German. The betrothed couple could not even speak to each other. Henry left the room, not having courage even to offer to the princess the handsome present which he brought for her. He threw himself into his bark, and returned gloomy and pensive to Greenwich. 'He was woe,' he said to himself, 'that ever she came unto England.'[308] He deliberated with himself how to break it off. How could men in their senses have made him reports so false? He was glad, he said, that 'he had kept himself from making any pact of bond with her.' He thought that the matter was too far gone for him to break it off. 'It would drive the duke her brother into the emperor or French king's hands.' The inconvenience of a flattering portrait had never been so deeply felt. It is not to be doubted that if at this very moment the emperor and the king of France had not been together at Paris, Henry would have immediately sent back the unfortunate young lady.[309]

HENRY'S DISAPPOINTMENT.

Shortly after the king's arrival at Greenwich, Cromwell, the promoter of this unfortunate affair, presented himself to his majesty, not without fear, and inquired how he liked the lady Anne. The king replied,—'Nothing so well as she was spoken of. Had I known as much before as I do now, she should not have come within this realm.' Then, with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, 'What remedy?'[310] 'I know none,' said Cromwell, 'and I am very sorry therefor.' The agents of the king had given proof neither of intelligence nor of integrity in the matter. Hutton, who had written to Cromwell that the princess was not beautiful, and Southampton, who had had a good view of her at Calais, had both spoken to the king only of her beauty. On the following day Anne arrived at Greenwich; the king conducted her to the apartment assigned to her, and then retired to his own very melancholy and in an ill humor. Cromwell again presented himself. 'My lord,' said the king, 'say what they will, she is nothing so fair as she hath been reported ... howbeit, she is well and seemly.' 'By my faith, sir,' replied Cromwell, 'ye say truth; but I think she has a queenly manner.' 'Call together the council,' said Henry.

The princess made her entry into London in great pomp, and appeared at the palace. The court had heard of Henry's disappointment and was in consternation. 'Our king,' they said, 'could never marry such a queen.' In default of speech, music would have been a means of communication; it speaks and moves. Henry and his courtiers were passionately fond of it; but Anne did not know a single note. She knew nothing but the ordinary occupations of women. In vain did Cromwell venture to say to his master that she had, nevertheless, a portly and fine person. Henry's only thought was how to get rid of her. The marriage ceremony was deferred for a few days. The council took into consideration the question whether certain projects of union between Anne and the son of the duke of Lorraine did not form an obstacle to her marriage with Henry. But they found here no adequate ground of objection. 'I am not well treated,' the king said to Cromwell. Many were afraid of a rupture. The divorce between Henry and Catherine, the cruelty with which he had treated the innocent Anne Boleyn, had already given rise to so much discontent in Europe that people dreaded a fresh outbreak. The cup was bitter, but he must drink it. The 6th of January was positively fixed for the fatal nuptials. The king was heard the day before murmuring in a low tone with an accent of despair,—'It must be; it must be,' and presently after, 'I will put my neck under the yoke.' He determined to live in a becoming way with the queen. An insuperable antipathy filled his heart, but courteous words were on his lips. In the morning the king said to Cromwell,—'If it were not for the great preparations that my states and people have made for her, and for fear of making a ruffle in the world, and of driving her brother into the hands of the emperor and the French king's hands, being now together, I would never have married her.' Cromwell's position had been first shaken by his quarrel with Norfolk; it sustained a second shock from the king's disappointment. Henry blamed him for his misfortune, and Cromwell in vain laid the blame on Southampton.[311]