The Royal Talisman

We might laugh today at some of the amulets and talisman that protected royalty, but they were cherished and extremely costly objects hundreds of years ago. Here are a few of the lucky charms used by some of my favorite royals.

The love talisman
Catherine de Medici was one of the most superstitious queens of her day and even showed a natural talent for alchemy and astrology. Catherine's most famous talisman was her love talisman made from metals melted during favorable astrological signs and then mixed with human and goat blood. Catherine’s love talisman was destroyed when she died, but a copy can be found at the Bibliotheque nationale de France. The above is a copy which can be purchased at Esoteric Jewels. Unfortunately, Catherine’s love talisman failed her miserably. Throughout her marriage, she was trapped in a painful love triangle between herself, her husband, Henri II and his famed mistress, Diane de Poitiers.

Anne of Cleves wore a crown of rosemary on her wedding day because it was believed to be a love charm. Judging by the speed at which Henry VIII divorced her, expectant brides might want to forgo this tradition.

The friendship talisman
You wouldn’t think the hard-nosed, pragmatic queen Bess would dabble in superstitions, but Elizabeth I had her share of protective amulets. She possessed an agate amulet which promised that she would always have at least one faithful friend. This amulet obviously worked because Elizabeth had a knack for surrounding herself with loyal advisors and spymasters throughout her life.

The religious talisman
A commonly worn religious talisman was that of the Agnus Dei portraying a flag and Jesus as the sacrificial lamb. The Agnus Dei was often made from the wax of a Paschal candle and was blessed by the Pope. It was carried to protect against flood, thunderstorms, windstorms and sudden death. Mary Queen of Scots possessed two talisman stamped with the Agnus Dei and even took one to her execution. If you count a swinging ax as a sudden death, then this one didn’t work so well for Mary.

The great poet, cardinal Pietro Bembo gave the Duchess Lucrezia an Agnus Dei as a token of his secret love for her. In one of the many steamy letters to the Duchess, he wrote:

'The encolsed Agnus Dei, which I wore a time on my heart, you will deign to wear at night sometimes for love of me - if you are not able to wear it in the day - so that sweet dwelling placeof your precious heart, to be able to kiss which one single time for a long hour I would bargain my life, may be at least touched by that circle which a long time touched the dwelling place of mine. Be well.' (1)

The health talisman
One of the most common talisman was a unicorn horn to protect against disease and poisoning. Unicorn horns were so expensive that some even cost the price of a small estate. Henry VII, Elizabeth I, Francis I, and Mary Queen of Scots possessed unicorn horns to ward off illness. (They were really overpriced narwhal tusks)

Henry VII also possessed a serpent’s tongue on a chain to protect him from sudden poisoning and illnesses. In ancient Malta, located off the coast of Italy, serpent’s tongue were believed to be the tongue of snakes that had been turned to stone. (They were really fossilized shark’s teeth.) In the fifteenth and sixteenth century, serpent’s tongues were suspended from coral trees, called languiers, and placed at the dinner table. Guests would grab a tongue and dip it into their wine to protect them from poisoning. Try this amulet only if you are dining with some suspicious house guests.

The talisman for commoners
If you couldn’t afford a unicorn horn, then you would have to settle for carrying a mole's foot in your pocket. (just slightly nastier than a rabbit's foot.) This superstition was recommended by Pliny the Elder in the first century C.E. and continued to be a common practice in England up until the 20th century.

To cure toothache, people often carried a tooth-shaped stone or animal tooth. These amulets cured tooth ache by transferring the disease from your tooth onto the stone. If you squeezed it pretty hard, maybe you would forget about the stabbing pain in your jaw.

Another common amulet was an alchemy coin called a ‘thaler’ which when carried would protect against disease and illness. The word ‘thaler’ became the basis for the word dollar which today ironically transfers nasty germs instead of protecting against illness.

Stay tuned for a future post on the talisman used in divination. Shown here is the purple crystal used to cure illness and predict the future. It was used by Elizabeth I's conjurer, John Dee who claimed he could see ghosts in it.

What is your favorite lucky charm? Fess up….are you superstitious? Do you consult the magic eight ball before making any important decisions? Do you have a florescent pink rabbit’s foot hanging from your dashboard or a lucky rock in your pocket?

Image Credits:
Mole's foot, Thalers, John Dee's crystal: Science Museum, London

Languiers: Natural History Museum

Catherine de Medici's love talisman: Esoteric Jewels

Notes:

Kidwell, p. 94

Sources and Further Reading:

Kidwell, Carol. Pietro Bembo: Lover, Linguist, Cardinal. Montreal, Quebec: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2004.

Woolley, Benjamin. The Queen's Conjurer: The Science and Magic of Dr. John Dee, Adviser to Queen Elizabeth I. New York:NY, Holt Paperbacks, 2001

The Execution of Mary Queen of Scots.
Starkey, David. The Six Wives of Henry VIII. New York, NY: Harper Perennial, 2004.
Frieda, Leonie. Catherine de Medici, Renaissance Queen of France, New York, NY:Harper Perennial, 2003. \

Showtime's The Tudors: Historical vs. Hollywood – Final Episode

Episode eight begins with Henry feeling an “impediment” to his marriage that is deeply troubling his conscience. (yes, he has one). The whole marriage has been a terrible mix up. Anne had already been pre-contracted to Francis of Lorraine, (later the Duc de Bar) so therefore Henry had really married another man’s wife. But Francis of Lorraine is soon to marry Christina of Milan. (the bride that Henry originally wanted to marry). The solution is simple: Wife Swap. oh, darn...wrong show.

No, this is the Tudors where the solution can only be divorce or death. Henry tells Anne that he is packing her up and sending her to Richmond to get a little fresh air. We don’t know what Anne thought of her deportation, but it might have been along the lines of, “Say, didn’t you try that Richmond trick on your first wife?” Catherine of Aragon certainly didn’t fall for it. Would Anne?

While Anne is relaxing in Richmond, Henry’s lackeys draw up the divorce papers on the grounds of non-consummation and the legal impediments caused by Anne’s pre-contracted marriage with Francis of Lorraine. When the news is broken to Anne, it doesn’t take long for her to cooperate fully. The scene with her breaking down in tears is factual for firsthand accounts reported her crying pitilessly at the news. As part of the divorce settlement, Anne was given 4000 pounds a year, Richmond and Bletchingley, and the consolatory title of “sister.” Not bad for a wife of Henry.

Meanwhile, The Duke of Suffolk and Francis Bryan plot to put a new pretty plaything in front of the king. Their chosen trinket is the seductive and nubile Kathryn Howard. In reality, her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk secured her a position as lady-in-waiting to Anne of Cleves and we do not know when she caught the king’s eye. In the Tudors, it is also implied that Kathryn was a “rich bastard” but in reality she came from a minor noble branch of the Howard clan (Anne Boleyn was her cousin.) Her father was Lord Edmund, the third son of the second Duke of Norfolk. Her mother was Jocasta Culpepper, a rich co-heiress. Sadly, Catherine’s mother died when she was young and Kathryn was packed off to the Household of her step-grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk. Under the Duchess of Norfolk’s care, she romped and played like the Tudor version of ‘Girls gone wild’ except she thought no one was watching. People were watching. Those people may have some tales to tell in season four…

Henry of course falls instantly in love with Kathryn. They then share a series of conversations reminiscent of two apes sharing a banana. Most of Kathryn's lines consist of fluctuating snorts and giggles delivered half-naked. History tells us that one of Kathryn’s more alluring qualities was that she dressed herself in the more becoming French fashions that Jane had banned (shown here). Unfortunately, it’s hard to get the sense of her being a fashion guru with her always missing her clothes. I predict next season is going to be a tad steamier.

If you want tears, turn to poor Cromcakes who is suddenly out of a job. His official charges were treason, heresy and scandalum magnatum (which is Latin for being a big jerk to your betters). He is not given a trial and arrested on an Act of Attainder.* But before he is handed his Tudor walkng papers, he is ordered to complete one last official duty - write a letter showing that Henry did not consummate his marriage. The Tudors uses Cromwell’s real letter including his cry for, ‘mercy, mercy, mercy.’ (1) Most of what we know of Henry’s reaction to Anne is from this letter.

Cromwell’s downfall cannot be attributed to one defining moment, but his failed foreign policy certainly played its part. He had succeeded in counterbalancing the threat of a Franco-Imperial war by securing an alliance with Cleves, but he forgot the fundamental nature of alliances….they were two way streets. You scratch my back and I scratch yours. And that meant that if Cleves went to war with Spain, England had to come to its defense. Unfortunately for Cromwell, it looked like that is exactly what was about to happen.

Charles V and William of Cleves had been arguing over whom had rights to the rich land of Gelderland for some time. To settle the matter, Charles V went straight for the Low Countries to claim it for himself. Now, a war between Cleves and Charles’ Imperial forces was forthcoming and Henry was in no mood to come to the Cleves family defense. To make matters worse, The French king, Francis I and Charles V were at each other’s throats (think Mean Girls but with swords and codpieces.) With Francis and Charles distracted with their own bickering, a Franco-Imperial attack on England turned out to be just another boogieman in the closet. Anne now served no purpose other than to make Henry miserable. Cromwell had gambled and lost.

Then there was the whole messy business of religion. Cromwell’s enemies accused him of a whole slew of heretical charges including spreading heretical literature, allowing heretical writings to be translated, supporting the teaching of Barnes and allowing the common man to minister the sacrament. We still don’t know today what exactly Cromwell was up to, but he went to his grave claiming that he wasn’t a heretic. Today, Cromwell certainly has his detractors, but most historians agree that his death was senseless and the reason for using an Act of Attainder was that there was not enough evidence to convict him.

And let's not forget that Cromwell just wasn’t playing nice with others. His enemies resented his power and his rise from humble beginnings. Class structure was not a thing to be circumvented in Tudor England and a blacksmith’s son normally did not become the second most powerful man in the kingdom. Cromwell simply had too many enemies.

The only person who had anything remotely nice to say about Cromwell was Cranmer. When asked what his relationship with the fallen minister was, he said, ‘I loved him as my friend…But now, if he be a traitor, I am sorry that I ever loved him or trusted him.’ (2)The Tudors used this quote, but has Rich saying it instead of Cranmer.

Cromwell shared the scaffold with Lord Hungerford who was executed for sodomy and various heinous crimes. The Tudors shows what looks to be a homeless person shaking on the scaffold and I am assuming that is our guy Hungerford. Hungerford was executed at the same time as Cromwell in an effort to disgrace Cromwell futher. (In Tudor England, sodomites were viewed as the lowest of the low).

You might want to cover your eyes during Cromwell’s execution scene. According to Foxe, ‘he patiently suffered the stroke of the axe, by a ragged butcherly miser, which very ungodly performed the office.’ (3) People are always counting the swings it takes to remove a head, but I say anything over one counts as a seriously botched execution.


But all ends well back at the Tudor Playboy ranch with Kathryn Howard looking like a kinky Fragonard painting. But wait….is that regret on Henry’s face? Does Miss Giggles have the goods to hold a king’s attention? Will have to wait to season four to find out…

Stay tuned for a chance to win season two of The Tudors. Details coming this week.

Sources and Notes:
* An Act (or Bill) of Attainder is a Parliamentary procedure in which Parliament passes judicial sentence on an accused person as if it were a court of law.

All sources listed in previous posts
(1)L. P, Henry VIII, Volume 15: 1540, pp. 376-412. Cromwell to Henry VIII
(2)Starkey, Kindle location 11081-87
(3) Dickens. p. 73

Additional Sources:
Dickens, A. G. Thomas Cromwell and the English Reformation, London, UK: The English Universities Press, 1967.

Showtime's The Tudors: Historical vs. Hollywood – Episode 6

In episode six, the wear and tear of three wives, a septic leg wound, a major uprising and total religious upheaval is starting to take its toll on Henry. Bluff king Hal is simply not the virile and handsome king of his youth. Although we don’t see Meyers physically age, he manages to act enough like a dirty old man leering at schoolgirls to convince viewers that his heyday has come and gone. This feeling of lost youth plays into his choice for the next Mrs. Tudor…

In reality, over 12 candidates for marriage were considered, but this is TV land and there is obviously no need to go through each one. According to the Tudors, one of the first candidates was Marie, the daughter of the French king, Francis I. I had to keep rewinding this scene because I couldn’t understand why Showtime renamed Francis’ daughter “Marie” when her name was Margaret? But it is true that Henry turned down Margaret (shown here) because of her young age. This is ironic considering that he had no qualms about robbing Kathryn Howard’s cradle years later.

As portrayed in the Tudors, Henry preferred the second French candidate, Mary de Guise (shown here). Mary was a little older, a little more experienced and had a little more junk in her trunk than Margaret. Henry claimed that such a woman was better suited for him because he was “big in person and had need of a big wife.” (1) True…one romantic moment with Henry might crush the average woman, but the real reason Henry wanted Mary was part ego and part politics. Mary was already promised to Henry’s rival, James V of Scotland and this obstacle made her all the more desirable. Henry was adamant about preventing a Franco- Scottish alliance so stealing Mary from James seemed like the gallant thing to do. Unfortunately, Henry’s political cockblocking failed and Mary ended up in a cold, damp castle married to James. Mary's daughter, Mary Queen of Scots would have her run in with Henry’s daughter, Elizabeth I years later....but that is a story left for another day or another post.

After a love match with Mary de Guise failed, Henry considered a match with one of her two sisters, Louise and Renee. Louise was rumored to still be a virgin (a rarity in the French court) so the French ambassador, Castillon suggested that Henry choose her in order to “shape the passage to your measure.” The Tudors uses this quote.

The others sister, Renee was not a good candidate for marriage because she was already promised to the big guy upstairs and was to become the abbess of St. Peters. This minor detail did not stop Henry from sending his ambassadors to meet with her. Henry’s arrogant actions prompted the constable to quip to the Imperial ambassador that, “I have no doubt that as the king of England considers himself a pope in his own kingdom, he would have preferred the nun to any other daughter of the royal blood in France. “(2)

After considering many French potential brides, Henry then asked Francis if he could throw a prospective wife beauty pageant and inspect each of the ladies up close. (The talent show would follow.) It was not an unreasonable request for a king to inspect his future wife before committing to marriage. What was a little extreme was to ask to see all of the potential brides at once. (Henry’s was in a bit of a rush to marry) Francis of course refused causing the French ambassador to joke that Henry should instead mount all the ladies like horses and then decide who to marry. (The Tudors uses this quote) The part that is a tad Hollywood was Henry’s reaction to this comment. In the Tudors, Henry yells at the French ambassador in his usual bullish tone. In reality, Henry probably felt a bit shamed by the ambassador’s comment because he nervously laughed along with him.

On the Imperial side, Henry’s first choice was the dimple-faced beauty Christina, Duchess of Milan. The quote on the Tudors describing Christina as not as pure white as Jane, but with adorable dimples is a real quote. Christina was rumored to be the most beautiful woman in the Netherlands. She also had recently become a widow and Henry may have felt a widow was more apt to handle an aging king. In the Tudors, Christina is wearing a bit too much bling to be in mourning. (The painting shown to the left was completed by Michiel Coxcie and is an accurate depiction of her mourning attire.)

Holbein was commissioned to paint a portrait of Christina (shown here) but Bernard van Orley painted her shortly before him. The Tudors chose to portray van Orley painting Christina and not Holbein probably because van Orley painted Christina in a rich gown instead of her mourning attire. (The mourning attire is kind of dowdy.) In a later scene, The Tudors shows Henry drooling over a really bad sketch of Christina, but in reality Henry fell in love with Holbein’s painting of her.

The Tudors also portrayed Christina as not too thrilled to marry a rumored wife-killer and she makes her famed comment, “if I had two heads, one should be at the King of England's disposal.” As discussed in a previous post, Christina never delivered this quick witted insult nor is there any proof that she did not desire the more exalted position as queen of England. She obviously knew that Henry had run through three wives, but Henry’s bad boy reputation probably wasn’t much of a deal breaker. (When is it ever? ) What was a deal breaker was that she was the grand-niece of Catherine of Aragon and therefore in the forbidden degrees of affinity. Henry knew he was not about to be granted a papal dispensation to marry Christina so negotiations stalled. Ironically, Christina went on to marry Francois, Duc de Bar who was originally betrothed to Anne of Cleves. Either way, Henry may have lost the bride, but he kept the painting and cherished it forever.

After a series of French and Imperial candidates failed to form a love connection with Henry, he considered a German alliance with one of the daughters of Cleves – Anne or Amelia. According to the Tudors, Cromwell supported this love match because Cleves was part of the Protestant League. Unfortunately, the real history is not so simple. Cleves was not part of the Protestant League, but it bordered some of the most powerful Lutheran states. Ironically, Anne’s mother was Catholic and raised Anne in the same religion. Her father and brother were humanists and followers of Erasmus. Still, their humanist beliefs did not prevent Cleves from forming Protestant alliances with neighboring states and even marrying their firstborn daughter, Sybille to the Lutheran elector of Saxony.


At the time of Henry’s wife hunt, the political landscape was changing rapidly. Francis and Charles V had become fast friends yet again (it wouldn't last). Their alliance put England in a precarious situation because it appeared that they were about to gain up on poor old Hank. Now a daughter of Cleves looked enticing, especially when she came from a small principality that strategically bordered the Hapsburg Netherlands. Cleves also contained well-trained German mercenaries ready to fight at a moment’s notice. (I talked a little bit about these mercenaries on a previous post.) So although the marriage did come with the potential for a strong Protestant alliance, this alliance was based more on political necessity than religious doctrine.

A scene follows where Henry wonders if he can trust any of the portraits. Although it depended greatly on the skill of the artist, the purpose of portrait miniature was to obtain an accurate likeness of the sitter. These paintings were never created as idealized representations. Holbein did choose not to show Anne of Cleve’s rumored smallpox scars, but his job as a court painter was to capture realism and Holbein was very good at his job.

As customary, Beard and Sutton were sent to Cleves to inspect Henry’s future bride in person. The Tudors shows them meeting with Anne’s brother, William of Cleves, but in reality they met with the Cleves’ minister Olisleger. It is true that the sisters were wearing veils that prevented the ambassadors from seeing their faces. When they objected to the veils, Olisleger replied, ‘would you see them naked?’(3) They later might have wished that they had said yes. The Tudors uses this quote, but has William of Cleves saying it instead of Olisleger.

Just when you thought you had seen enough puss oozing out of Henry’s leg wound….we get more gratuitous puss scenes. The Tudors depicts Henry on the brink of death with his council wondering who will become the next ruler. These scenes did play out, but they occurred in the reign of Kathryn Howard. Perhaps we will revisit the putrid leg wound again in season 4 because viewers can’t seem to get enough of Henry’s rotting flesh.

Amidst the wife hunting and the puss oozing, the Poles and the Exeters are headed for the executioner’s block. The Tudors does not cover all the people executed during this time. Missing from the bloodbaths are the Marquis of Exeter, Sir Edward Neville and Nicholas Carew. The only Pole to escape Henry’s wrath was Geoffrey Pole because he gave evidence against his family. The Tudors featured Lady Salisbury, Lord Montagu and Montagu’s young son arrested for treason, thrown in the Tower and never given a trial.

Montagu and Henry had never got along and as shown in the Tudors, Montagu did make the foolish comment about how the world would celebrate once the king was dead. Not smart. Lord Montagu was found guilty through an act of attainder.

Lady Salisbury’s guilt was based on the five wounds of Christ banner found in her coffers connecting her to the Pilgrimage of Grace. As shown in the Tudors, she denied being a traitor to the end and was rumored to put up a pretty good fight with her inexperienced executioner. Some accounts have the executioner literally chasing her around the scaffold while hacking away. (Thankfully, Showtime chose not to get this graphic) The part that is very Hollywood is the timing of Lady Salisbury’s death. In reality, Henry let her rot in the Tower for a few years before executing her in 1541 during the reign of Kathryn Howard. What a guy!

Lord Montagu’s young son later died in the Tower. No one knows if he was murdered or if he died of natural causes, but you can bet Henry wasn’t wasting any tears.

History is somewhat divided on whether the Exeters and Poles deserved their fate. By 16th century standards, they were traitors. By modern standards, it’s really hard to justify the execution of a 68-year old woman and her pubescent grandson.

Meanwhile, Cromwell is feeling the stress of being Henry’s right hand man. According to the Tudors, Cromwell becomes connected to Protestant Reformer and accused heretic, John Lambert who he saved from execution during the reign of Anne Boleyn. In reality, Anne was the main force behind Lambert’s reprieve. Still, there were court factions moving against Cromwell in every direction. Let’s just hope Cromwell is able to make a love match between Anne of Cleves and Henry or heads are going roll.

Anne of Cleves makes her appearance next episode. Stay tuned for the next episode of Historical vs. Hollywood….

Sources listed in previous posts

Notes:
(1) Erickson, Kindle location 4605
(2) Warnicke, p. 52
(3) Starkey p. 635

The Flanders Mare - A Promiscuous Horse?

Historians have often wondered why Henry did not find his fourth wife, Anne of Cleves appealing. Part of the mystery lies in the fact that we have very few accounts describing her appearance and only two contemporary portraits. One portrait is the infamous betrothal portrait by Holbein which sealed her fate and the other is from the workshop of Barthel Bruyn the Elder (shown below).

Writers through the years have certainly not been kind to Anne. The reference to Anne looking more like a "flanders mare" than a princess was first made in the 17th century by historian Gilbert Burnet who critisized Holbein's painting as taking, "the common compliment of his art too liberally." Nothing could be futher from the truth. Holbein was known for his accuracy and attention to detail in his paintings. Most importantly, the whole purpose of sending him to paint Anne was to take a likeness. He did his job and was therefore never punished by Henry when the real life Anne did not meet his expectations.

Later historians have speculated that Anne was unattractive to Henry because she was “large-boned,” but I disagree with this assessment. Anne was reportedly tall and the layers of clothes certainly made her look like a stuffed sausage, but I suspect that Anne's body type may have been closer to thin and gangly than big-boned. I have already written about some of Anne’s finer qualities in a previous post.

Find Me a Woman with Some Meat on Her Bones
Before marriage negotiations began with Cleves, Henry had instructed his advisors to find him a heavy-set woman for his fourth wife. His exact words (and a bit of an understatement) were, 'I am a big man and in need of a big wife.' Yet, Henry contradicted his own words with his previous actions for he tended to be more attracted to small-hipped women like Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour. Perhaps his days of slim women were over at the point in which he began marriage negotiations for his fourth wife?

Digging deeper, there is obviously more to attraction then someone's body build. And we also can't forget about Henry's political motivations toward the marriage for he may have simply not needed the alliance with Cleves as the marriage progressed. But Henry was obviously very much repulsed by his new bride too.

What did repulse Henry enough to annul the marriage and make Cromwell a head shorter?

The clue may be in the infamous rumor that Anne looked like a “Flanders Mare."


What is a Flanders Mare?
A Flanders Mare is not the graceful and delicate horse of a queen. In Medieval times, Belgium Horses were prized in wars for their tremendous size and strength. (show above).

Colored like a Flanders Mare
These heavy, war-like draft horses were typically black and ranged from colors to bay, bay-brown to chestnut. They were rarely lighter colors like they are today. Many accounts report that Anne was of a darker skin tone, the opposite of the beauty ideal of the time. When Henry asked Lord Russell what he thought of his new bride he replied that 'I take her not for fair, but to be of a brown complexion.'

Smells Like a Flanders Mare
I grew up around horses. I love horses. But let's face it. No matter how much you love horses you cannot deny that they stink. One of the biggest turn-offs for Henry was Anne's lack of hygiene. Maybe it was her smell that truly repulsed him? But wait....I have an even more far fetched theory.

As Skanky as a Flanders Mare?
Henry also told Anthony Denny, a member of the Privy Chamber, that she had 'breasts so slack and other parts of body in such sort that [he] somewhat suspected her virginity.' And if that was not bad enough he complained to his court physician of the 'hanging of her breasts and looseness of her flesh.' Could Henry have really suspected Anne's virginity?


Later in the 17th century, Flanders Mares were not only prized for their strength, but also their eager willingness to pull heavy carriages. The Flanders Mares were mentioned in the diary of Samuel Pepys:

Thence to my Lord’s, where I found Mr. Pierce, the surgeon, and with him and Mr. Sheply, in our way calling at the Bell to see the seven Flanders mares that my Lord has bought lately, where we drank several bottles of Hull ale. Much company I found to come to her, and cannot wonder at it, for she is very pretty and wanton.¹

Pepys never really says who the “her” is but he seems to be making a double entendre between the horse wantonness and the unknown women. Interesting that he chose the always willing Flanders Mare to make his comparison. Perhaps the word "wanton" had a different meaning then? I suspect it means relatively the same thing.

In the eighteenth century, English writer and pamphleteer Daniel Defoe gives the prostitute and main character of his novel the fictitious name of Moll Flanders. He makes it clear that this is not her real name. In general, Defoe rarely named his characters and generally referred to people as “the elder brother” or “the nurse.” I doubt Defoe's choice of Flanders was insignificant.

I personally believe that Henry was not attracted to Anne because of a combination of factors. She lacked refinement and grace (she couldn’t dance or play an instrument), her darker complexion was not the beauty ideal of the time, she smelled when Henry was fastidious about cleanliness, and most importantly she may have exhibited an eagerness to please that Henry found unattractive. Aside from Henry's political motivations toward the match, we will never know for certain why the science of attraction failed, but perhaps if Anne had played hard to get she might not have reminded Henry of this eager draft horse.

Sources
Starkey, David. The Six Wives of Henry VIII. New York, NY: Harper Perennial, 2004
Weir, Alison. The Six Wives of Henry VIII. New York, NY: Grover Press, 1991
Pepys, Samuel. The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Hayes Barton Press, 1660 - can be accessed online in Google Books.
Warnicke, Retha M. The Marrying of Anne of Cleves: Royal Protocol in Early Modern England, Cambridge University Press, 2000
Daniel Defoe Wikipedia Entry
Notes:
1: Weir (p.227 )

The Royal Portrait Prank

Being a hopeless romantic, I have always wondered what it must have been like to marry someone you have never met. People during George IV's marriage to Caroline of Brunswick gossiped that it was sort of like buying a "pig in a poke." (A poke is a small bag). But royals did not have to enter into marriage agreements completely blinded. They did have portrait miniatures to appraise their future mate's true beauty. Often these small, lifelike paintings of the bride or groom were sent well before the marriage took place. Here is the harlequin romance version of how I have always pictured the anticipation of that first meeting.

The impatient king nervously shifts in his saddle waiting for his future bride to appear in the horizon. He longingly gazes down at the portrait miniature of his beloved rendered in tiny, gentle brushstrokes and closes his sweaty fingers around this small talisman of her beauty. For one brief moment, he nervously wonders if the artist has captured her true likeness.

He sees her approaching in the distance. She is getting closer and closer and the brush strokes that formed her lovely visage start to get sharper and sharper as the real flesh and blood form comes into focus. But wait. What’s this? No, this can’t be. This is not the rosy cheeked woman in the painting! This must be her inbred cousin sent as a trick…one last practical joke on the king before he gets settled into matrimonial bliss.

But it is not a trick. The king has just been a victim of the Royal Portrait Prank.

The Flanders Mare
Probably one of the most famous victims of the portrait swicheroo was Henry VIII. In 1538, Henry was back on the marriage market looking for wife #4. In an effort to secure a Protestant alliance, Henry's chief minister, Thomas Cromwell pushed heavily for a union between Henry and Anne of Cleves. Cromwell sent Henry's court painter, Hans Holbein to paint Anne knowing that Holbein was famous for his flattering portrayals. Henry immediately fell for the youthful, clear-faced beauty in Holbein's painting and agreed to the marriage alliance.

But when Henry laid eyes on Anne he was shocked to find "a lady so far unlike what had been represented."¹ Legend has it that Anne looked more like a "Flanders Mare" than Holbein's painting. Anne was reportedly gangly, pock marked and was blessed with the fashion sense of a Long Island grandmother. To further add insult to the foreign princess, Henry pronounced that his repulsion was so great that it prevented him from consummating the marriage and he feared that he could never produce another heir with such an uncomely creature. Then as comical relief for the rest of the court, Henry called in his court doctor, Dr. Stubbs, to attest to the fact that Henry could still do the deed if Anne was not occupying his bed.

Many a monarch would have grinned and bared the old portrait prank, but Henry didn't like being tricked. Heads were going to roll. He could have punished Holbein, but truthfully the artist was just too darn good to destroy and Henry had a great appreciation for art. No, Cromwell had pimped the supposedly unattractive princess out and now he must pay. Anne was sent packing with a generous settlement, Cromwell lost his head, and the whole ugly business was quickly forgotten when a pretty, nubile distraction named Catherine Howard became Henry's next royal pursuit.

History fails to record Anne's reaction to her future husband although she agreed quickly to the annulment. Henry at this point had become the fat, tyrannical, beast of a man that we know and love. His festering leg wound oozed pus, his hair was thinning and his breath stunk. Anne could not have been pleased.

I Have Been Deceived!

In the painting to the right, Marie de Medici commissioned Peter Paul Rubens to recreate her betrothal to Henri IV. We see small cherubs playfully holding up the painting as Henri adoringly gazes upon the beautiful Medici Princess. Now, if there is one thing that I have learned in life, it's this — never trust the naked winged babies. They are always up to no good. See the helmeted figure to the right of the besotted king? She is whispering, “It’s a trick old chap. You're going to find her as attractive as a sow’s behind.”

In reality, Henri and Marie’s meeting was not as idyllic as Reuben’s heavenly painting. Rumor has it that the disappointed king exclaimed, “I have been deceived. She is not beautiful.”² Yet in public, Henri appeared to adore his wife showering her with expensive gifts and participating in elaborate festivities to welcome the new queen. The people of France, were enthralled by Marie's youthful, healthy glow and the splendor of her attire. She represented renewed hope in the monarchy and hopes for a future heir to France. To Henry, she symbolized his duty and obligation to France.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with a girl having a healthy appetite, but Marie was a bit plump even in her younger years. The painting that duped Henri had been painted seven years earlier when Marie was 20. We will never know how much the betrothal painting flattered her because it no longer exists. I was fortunate enough to see an amazing art show in Florence on how Marie influenced art in Italy. The few paintings that depicted Marie as a young girl should have left Henri satisfied enough. Marie may not have been as beautiful as Henri's many mistresses, but her regal demeanor demanded respect. It is more likely that the perpetually, love-sick king resented being forced into the matrimonial bed.

The Fat Adonis
While Henri hid his distaste for his wife, George IV was not nearly as chivalrous. He has been sent a portrait of his future bride, Princess Caroline of Brunswick before his wedding and remarked hopefully, "Lennox and Fitzroy have seen her, and they tell me she is even handsomer than her miniature."³ George had little to complain about before the wedding. Caroline's dowry would pay his insurmountable debts and the newspapers had extolled upon her infinite charms and graces. What was there to worry about? How bad could she be?

Unfortunately, Caroline's miniature failed to capture how George's olfactory senses would react to his new bride because she stunk like a barrel of drowned rats. George might have forgiven her short stature, fat figure and over-sized head, but not changing your undergarments (underware had not caught on yet) insulted the pampered prince's sense of decency. Upon meeting his future bride, a shocked George retired to his apartments and asked the Duke of Malmesbury, "Harris, I am not well, get me a glass of brandy."⁴ He then preceded to drink himself into a stupor in the hopes of numbing the rest of his senses.

In all fairness, Caroline could hardly hide her disappointment either and inquired, "My God! Is the Prince always like that? I find him very fat and nothing as handsome as his picture." Often called the "Fat Adonis", the pudgy prince had little right to be picky. It seems both parties had been victim of the old Portrait Prank.

What followed was a marriage that would make the worst Hollywood divorces look positively tame. After their daughter, Princess Charlotte was born, George told Malmesbury that there would be no more children for he didn't intend to ever touch his wife again. Caroline moved into her private residence at Montague House and did what any scorned woman would do with a title, money and plenty of time....she partied like a rock star. Reports of her raucous misbehaving include such gems as dancing topless at a Ball in Geneva and sleeping with her footman (all acts of treason). George so despised his wife and her bawdy behavior that when told by a courtier, "Sir, your greatest enemy is dead." George happily replied, "Is she, by God?"⁵ Unfortunately, his courtier was referring to Napoleon.

The Portrait can Lie

So as you can see, portrait miniatures have led to countless disappointments in marriage negotiations. Unlike state paintings, miniatures were created to capture the likeness of a subject so it would not have been unnatural to assume the painting resembled the sitter. These small treasures measured about 1-2 inches in diameter and were most often painted in watercolors on vellum or ivory. The more striking Italian and Dutch miniatures of the 16th century used oil on copper and silver for a more opaque and far richer painting. The example to the left is a miniature painted in enamel on copper created by George III's much-loved, youngest daughter, Princess Amelia. The example to the right shows an unfinished miniature of Elizabeth I. The artist has blocked in color on a neutral background and filled in the background with the customary blue. Although this painting would have been copied from an original, it does capture Elizabeth's hooked nose and tight lips.

If you would like to see more portrait miniatures then visit the portrait miniature blog.

Sources:
Eustace Chapuys's account of Henry and Anne's first meeting.Chambers, Roberts. The Book of Days. W. & R. Chambers ltd, 1832.
William, Hugh Noel. Last Loves of Henri of Navarre. Hutchinson, 1925.
Weir, Alison. The Six Wives of Henry VIII. New York, NY: Grove Press, 1991.
Pardoe, Julia. The Life of Marie de Medici. Charlestown, SC: BiblioBazaar, 2006.Langdon, Gabrielle. Medici Women: Portraits of Power, Love and Betrayal in the Court of Duke Cosimo I, Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press, 2007.
Clerici, Graziano Paolo. A Queen of Indiscretions: The Tragedy of Carolone of Brunswick, Queen of England. Whitefish, MT: Kessinger Publishing, 2007.
Baur, Karoline. Memoirs of Karoline Bauer. Roberts Brothers, 1885.
Doran, John. Lives of the queens of England of the house of Hanover. R. Bentley, 1875.
Notes:

1. Weir p. 397
2. Noel p. 70

3. Chambers p. 185

4. Bauer p. 449
5. Doran p. 131