Going to the Chapel – Renaissance Style

In August of 1447, Alessandra Strozzi wrote to her son, Filippo about the upcoming marriage between her daughter Caterina and the wealthy silk merchant, Marco Parenti. In this letter she wryly tells her son, “He who marries is looking for cash.” (1)

I have never understood why couples re-enact Italian Renaissance marriages for their wedding when a typical marriages was about as romantic as haggling with a used car salesman. They were long, expensive and often resulted with the poor bride stuck with a lemon. If you have ever had to plan a wedding or been stuck in a bridesmaid’s dress resembling a puffed pastry then you will feel for the poor darlings of Renaissance Italy. Here were the steps to tie the knot:

Step 1

Negotiations begin

Informal inquiry was made usually by a sensale (the professional match maker of their day) or by relative or patron. The job of this intermediary was to determine how much money the girl's family could throw down and make sure she was not missing any limbs or other deal breakers.

Step 2

The dowry is drawn up

Today, we start saving for college funds at an early age, but in the Renaissance, parents would start saving for a daughter’s wedding as soon as she popped out. For most aristocrats, the whole process could start in infancy and not be finalized until the girl was a teenager.  The parents also needed time to come up with that much cash. By the 16^th century, a noble girl’s dowry could be well over 1000 Florins. And then there were more extreme examples. Pope Alexander VI sent his daughter Lucrezia Borgia’s off into matrimonial bliss with Giovanni Sforza with a dowry of 31,000 ducats. By the time she was on huband #3 Alfonso d’Este, Alexander had to up the kitty to over 200,000 ducats. (Her reputation was getting a bit tarnished by then.)

Step 3 

Impalmare - The shaking of the hands

This step took place in a church between a mediating notary and representative from both families. This was the time to raise any objections because after it was done the couple was now legally bound to marry. Unfortunately, the bride was not present so she had little say.

Step 4

The wooing begins

You might think those window scenes during Romeo and Juliet were a bunch of fluff, but typically the groom would begin his courtship below his bride’s window. After the impalmare, grooms would bring his bride presents usually in the form of jewelry and clothing. In turn, the bride would throw from her window to her groom tokens of her esteem such as scarves, flowers, fruits, nuts or chunks of salami. (2) The groom usually paid for her cassoni (wedding chest) and also sent some trinkets in the form of dresses, jewels and headdresses. During the marriage negotiations of Caterina Strozzi and Marco Parenti, he gave her a gown of crimson velvet and silk along with a garland of feathers and pearls which caused her venal mother to note that, “When she goes out she’ll have more than four hundred florins on her back. “ (3)

Step 5

Sponsalia or sometimes called the Anellamento, Matrimonium or ring day

Now it was time for the big day.  This ceremony typically took place in the bride’s house and was witnessed by family members from both sides. The couple wore their best clothes with red being the most popular color for brides. (Often the bridal dress was designed by the groom. )

You think grooms get bridal jitters today, you should have seen what those crazy Renaissance kids from Rome had to endure. During the ceremony, a big sharp sword was hung over the heads of the soon-to-be happy couple just so they wouldn't get any last minute indecisiveness. A notary would then ask the appropriate questions prescribed by the church and then the groom would take the right hand of woman and place nuptial ring on her third finger. (It was believed a major vein went from the third finger to the heart.) Gifts from the husband were then given to bride and his in-laws.

The couple was now considered man and wife….almost.

Step 6

Nozze - The big party.

The shenanigans that followed the Sponsalia could last several days or even a week. The bride’s cassoni was carried through the streets to her husband’s house and placed in the couple’s bedroom. The bride was either carried through the streets or rode on a white palfrey to be formally welcome into her new home. If you lived in Rome, grain and vegetables were thrown out the window (much harder than rice if you get bonked on the head) and the public would heckle the groom with the old Renaissance version of “ball and chain” jokes.

The music, dancing and banquet that followed could be pretty lavish often involving over 300 guests. Eventually, the extravagance for the banquets got so out of control that sumptuary laws had to be enacted to control spending.

Step 7 

The Consummation

During the consummation a bride and groom would retire to their chambers while a notary recorded the event. This event didn’t always take place right after the Nozze. Sometimes, the bride continued to live in her father’s house, especially if the dowry had not been fully paid. For example, Cosa Guasconi's marriage took three years to be consummated because her groom, Paolo Niccolini was waiting for her dowry to be fully paid. 

Step 8 

La messa del congiunto 

After the consummation, men in Renaissance Italy could not just roll over and fall asleep. A religious ceremony had to be said after the deed was done in order to bless the union. So much for privacy.

Wheeeew. Writing this post has been exhausting, so you can imagine how tiring it must have been to be the bride and groom. Of course, If a young couple wanted to circumvent these steps and run away all they needed to make the marriage legal were two mutual consenting live bodies. Clandestine marriages were common enough that by 1563, the Council of Trent put into law the above required steps for a legal wedding thereby killing the last bit of romance in Renaissance Italy. 

Notes:

(1) p. 31 Biblioteca Italiana, Volume 9

(2) The Salami was a joke. I am just really hungry right now.

(3) (p. 31 Biblioteca Italiana, Volume 9 ).

Sources and Further Reading:

http://www.bibliotecaitaliana.it/

‪ Macinghi Strozzi, Alessandra and Gregory, Heather. Biblioteca Italiana, Volume 9‬, University of California Press, 1997.

‪ Dean, Trevor and Lowe K. J. P. Marriage in Italy, 1300-1650‬, Cambridge University Press, 2002.

Images from the Heilborn Timeline of Art History and Courtauld Museum
Love and Marriage in Renaissance Florence - exhibition at the Courtauld Musuem

A Valentines Serenade for the Single Ladies

There is a reason why Valentines Day shares its name with a martyred saint. It’s a cruel holiday to be single.

If you don't wake up tomorrow to tiny cherubs dancing about your bed throwing roses at your feet and feeding you bon bons, please don’t despair. Winged babies are always up to no good, roses have nasty thorns, and you can buy your own darn chocolate(without anyone noticing just how much chocolate you have consumed in one day).

Instead, imagine that you are a 12th century peasant woman. The medieval dating rule book written by Andreas Capellanus sums up perfectly what you could expect along the lines of romance:

“If you love a peasant woman, praise her and force her–peasants don’t respond to gentle wooing.”

Or take some more modern love advice from Gertrude Stein:

“A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.”

Happy Valentines Day to all the single ladies!*

*And single men... if you forgive me for the blatantly cynical fish quote. I was not talking about you. It's a proven fact that men who read history blogs are the loving and sensitive sorts.

Green with Love

Green - it is not just the color of envy. Shakespeare said it best: “green indeed is the colour of lovers.” Medieval doctors even had a medical term for cupid’s affliction called “green sickness” or chlorosis. This sickness fit into the accepted theory of the 4 humours which taught that the body was made of up four fluids; blood, phlegm, yellow bile and black bile. Too much or too little of one fluid would cause your humours to become imbalanced and the patient to become ill. Young females were especially prone to a humour imbalance if they failed to menstruate. Couple this female curse with a woman’s proclivity toward an overabundance of mad monkey lust and you had the pernicious green sickness.

Know someone who could be suffering from green sickness this month? The Raucous Royals is here to help you diagnose and cure their illness.

People most susceptible:
Female virgins with passionate inclinations

Symptoms:
1. A pale green complexion
2. Listless energy
3. Decreased appetite
4. Lack of menstruation
5. Patient has recently fallen in love and that love has gone unrequited

Treatments (Results may vary):

1. Drink a flask of red wine containing rusted iron filling
This cure was prescribed by Thomas Sydenham in 1624. He may have been on to something put ingesting iron in the pill form might be tastier.

2. Apply 6 to 8 leeches to the cutaneous part of labia
This cure was prescribed by Edward Tilt in the nineteenth century. If the leeches make you squeamish then you could always try the alternate cure of cutting the hymen.

3. Apply Electricity to "stimulate" the womb
This cure was prescribed by none other than our randy Benjamin Franklin who had the wisdom to envision infinite uses for electricity. A girl suffering from green sickness visited Mr. Franklin in Philadelphia and stayed for two weeks (aaahem). She left with "a glass and bottle" and the strict instructions to electrify herself (1). She was cured two months later.

4. A pinch of chalk in four to six spoonfuls of water
This cure was prescribed by the hydropathist Sebastian Kneipp in the belief that the magnesium and salt in the chalk would help iron absorption. But as any female with PMS can attest to...chocolate (containing magnesium) goes down much easier.
*The owner of this blog takes no responsibility for negative side effects resulting from these treatments.

Notes:
King, p. 106

Sources and Further Reading:
King, Helen. Disease of Virgins: Green Sickness, Chlorosis and the Problems of Puberty, New York: NY, Routledge, 2003.
Shakespeare Quarterly, V0l. 12, No. 1 (Winter, 1961), pp. 47-55

Who stole the Love Letters of Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn? Part II

In last week’s post, I offered three possible suspects in the theft of Henry VIII's love letters to Anne Boleyn. If you read this blog regularly then you probably already figured out that I am up to my old tricks....I don’t think any of the suspects is our thief.

The clue to who did steal them may even be in one of the letters themselves.

Letter XV
Darling, I heartily recommend me to you, ascertaining you that I am a little perplexed with such things as her brother will declare to her. Wrote in his last that he trusted shortly to see her, "which is better known at London than with any that is about me; whereof I not a little marvel, but lack of discreet handling must be the cause thereof. I hope soon "our meeting shall not depend upon other men's light handlings, but upon your own.

Written with the hand of him that longeth to be yours

H.R.

It is well known that intercepting letters was a common occurrence in the French and English courts.* On August 20th, 1528, shortly after Anne had returned to court, the French ambassador, Du Bellay makes reference to the breach of security in a letter to the Constable of France, Montmorency. He says, “Mademoiselle Boulan has returned to court. The intercepted letters that you sent me about this matter have disquieted them” (1). Was Henry reference to “lack of discreet handling” an indication that he knew his letters were being read? And what would the French court have to gain by reading Henry's love letters?

The Greatest of Enemies or Friends?
Any sort of affair that could tarnish Henry's reputation abroad was only bound to weaken his position politically too. Most importantly, Henry with a male heir was a far bigger threat to France than Henry with just a daughter. In short, the French had nothing to gain if Henry remarried and produced a heir. Perhaps a French spy for Francis I sold the letters to Clement believing that it would force Clement to denounce Henry. If a French spy did steal the letters, then they underestimated the pope’s desire to rule on the matter. As discussed in last post, Pope Clement VII needed time not evidence in the King’s Great Matter.

Who do you think stole the letters?

*Political letters with sensitive information were often written in cipher.

Notes:
(1)Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume, August 1528

17th Century Dating – Bundle up

With divorces far less common amongst the peasant class, finding the right husband was a serious matter. One of the ways a girl could try a man on for size was called “bundling.” Bundling was sleeping together without intercourse. Parents would literally tie the girl into a ‘bundling sack’ and place her in bed with her potential mate. Sometimes a board was placed in between the young lovers to further deter any mischief. The basic idea was that couples could spend the night together without the temptation of….nakedness. I am not exactly sure what this accomplished, but at least you could figure out if your potential spouse snored or had morning breath. (of course, if he did snore than there was nothing you could do about it because you were tied up in a sac. )

Bundling was a common ritual in Switzerland and Germany too, but was called Kiltzgang …which is German for ‘keep your kilt on kids’. The practice continued in Colonial England with ballads singing its dubious praises;

“ but bundlers clothes are no defense, unruly horses push the fence.” (1)

or

“Care, Nance and Sue proved just and true,
Tho' bundling did practice;
But Ruth beguil'd and proved with child
Who bundling did despise.” (2)

The practiced continued in rural England until those clever Victorians thought it best to keep a girl’s suitor at arms length.

It is still freezing here in New England. If you are reading this from an equally icy location, then please bundle up with your loved ones. burrrrrrrrr

Notes:
(1) Denny p. 83
(2) Ulrich p. 123

Sources and Further Reading:
Wikipedia Article
Denny, Joanna. Katherine Howard: A Tudor Conspiracy, London: UK, Piatkus Books, 2005.
Ulrich, Laurel Thatcher. Good Wives: Image and Reality in the Lives of Women in Northern New Enland, 1650 -1750, New York: NY, Vintage, 1991.

The Love Letters of Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn

Letter I
My mistress and friend, I and my heart put ourselves in your hands. Let not absence lessen your affection; for it causes us more pain than I should ever have thought, reminding us of a point of astronomy that the longer the days are, the further off is the sun, and yet the heat is all the greater. So it is with our love, which keeps its fervour in absence, at least on our side. Prolonged absence would be intolerable, but for my firm hope in your indissoluble affection. As I cannot be with you in person, I send you my picture set in bracelets, with the whole device, which you know already, wishing myself in their place, when it shall please you. This from the hand of your loyal servant and friend

H Rex

In letter I, Anne has left court with Henry panting in her wake like an abandoned puppy. Henry calls her “My mistress and friend,” but the word "mistress" did not have the same connotations as it does today. It was a polite term of address and did not imply a sexual relationship.

Henry also throws in a bit of science to impress his lady friend and likens his passion to the sun being farther away yet still making their days long and hot. This line gives us an interesting glimpse into what was believed about the seasons for Henry actually got the science part right. (The earth is tilted away from the sun in June when it is summer in the northern hemisphere…and yes I had to look that one up because I slept through 3rd grade science). Henry probably picked up this factoid from his astronomer, Nicholas Kratzer.

The picture set in bracelets was made my Hans Holbein the Younger. Portrait miniatures had become a popular art genre and were often exchanged as a token of friendship or to woo a young lady.

Ok so let’s recap. The man knows his jewelry and his science AND he just happens to be the king. Will Anne fall for his sweet letters and gifts? Will her absence make Henry’s heart grow fonder?

Stay tuned for next post to find out.

Passionate Love Monkeys

Throughout the 16th and 17th century, it was believed that women had less control of their sexuality than men. This lack of control made women weaker than their male counterparts. It was only through the quiet domesticity of marriage that lust could be tamed. Ironically, gender stereotypes are reversed today.

As discussed in a previous post, monkeys in Renaissance art often symbolized frivolity and gave a lighthearted feel to a painting. But monkeys also represented beastly desires. How does a queen control these desires? She must chain the monkey.


In the painting by Sir Anthony van Dyck, Henrietta Marie's monkey is safely chained to her dwarf, Sir Jeffrey Hudson. In this painting above of Catherine of Aragon, the queen is also not taking any chances with an unleashed monkey*. A chained monkey represented the subject’s absolute control over base desires. Clearly, neither queen is giving into that crazy monkey love.

* Actually it is a marmoset to those who know their monkeys
Sources: Edited by: Fudge, Erica, Renaissance Beasts, University of Illinois Press, 2004.

Love advice from Benjamin Franklin

Not only was Benjamin Franklin not afraid to fly a kite in a thunderstorm, invent a day planner, and wear a ridiculous beaver hat, but he also didn’t shy away from giving love advice. In a letter entitled ‘Advice to a young man on the choice of a mistress,’ Ben gave 8 reasons why his friend should find himself a ripe, old gal instead of a young chippie.

My favorite is number 5:

Because in every animal that walks upright, the deficiency of the fluids that fill the muscles appears first in the highest part: The face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the neck; then the breast and arms; the lower parts continuing to the last as plump as ever; So that covering all above with a basket, and regarding only what is below the girdle, it is impossible of two women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all cats are grey, the pleasure of corporal enjoyment with an old woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every knack being by practice capable of improvement.

So to any male readers, please remember the sage advice of Mr. Franklin this Valentines day –all you need to find true love is an older woman… and perhaps a basket.

Sources: Gatreli, Vic. City of Laughter, New York, NY: Walker &Co., 2006

The Love Letters of Henry VIII: Part 1

Background:
In the spring of 1527, Henry VIII began questioning the validity of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon. Always the theologian, the king turned to Leviticus as proof of his unnatural union. Scripture conveniently stated that anyone who married his brother’s wife would have no children. Bingo. Henry had done just that by marrying Catherine, his brother Arthur's widow and now he desperately needed an heir. So Henry sent his minions running off to Rome to seek a divorce from Catherine in what had become the King’s ‘Great Matter.’ Yet somewhere between guilt and the desire for a do-over, Henry met the enigmatic Anne Boleyn and decided to make her his queen.

Why Snoop?
The 17 love letters from Henry to Anne span two very different time periods in their courtship. They begin with the heady first days of infatuation to the tender promises of two betrothed lovers. Unfortunately, the letters are undated leaving historians to grapple with the most important question of all – when did their affair begin? This question leads to a far weightier question: Did Henry seek a divorce from Catherine of Aragon to ease his conscience and secure an heir? Or was Henry’s burning desire to extricate himself from his marriage influenced by the burning desire in his nether regions?

If we assign an earlier date to the letters, Anne becomes the catalyst that ended Henry’s marriage and the impetus behind the whole English Reformation – surely a heavy cross to bear. If we assign a later date to the letters than Henry’s motive to divorce Catherine lies in his own troubled conscience and his even more troublesome need for an heir to protect the future of England. Antonia Fraser, Eric Ives, and Alison Weir believe Henry first noticed Anne at Shrovetide in 1526 and the love letters soon followed. Starkey believes the affair could have started as early as 1525. Who is right? And even if the affair did begin in 1525, how much did Anne influence Henry to begin divorce proceeding? I will be exploring all theories in the next posts.

How we got the letters
The love letters resurfaced in the 17th century in the Vatican Archives probably stolen from Anne’s residence at Hever Castle. The letters do contain several clues as to when they were written, but how they are numbered does not. When they first came to the Vatican, some disgruntled archivist took the thin velum and transferred them to Parchment and numbered them in either random order or the order in which they were found. Throughout the next week’s posts, I will be referencing the letters by their numbers, but keep in mind that this is not the order in which they were written.

Where are Anne's letters?
The letters are also very one-sided because none of Anne's letters to Henry have survived. Most likely, Henry destroyed her letters, along with her portraits, when he ceased to need mementos of their affair. Henry could have also destroyed the letters as soon as they were read because the rules of courtly love deemed it indiscreet to save love letters. (It was especially tacky if the love letters were not from your wife.) But considering that Henry hated to write letters, we are lucky to have any relics of his love affair with the mysterious Brunet.

Stay tuned for next post on who stole the letters.

Art Note: Picture of Henry VIII's writing desk from the Victoria and Albert Museum

Unrequited Love – Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon

Whenever I think of unrequited love, I think of the intractable Catherine of Aragon who refused to be pushed aside for Henry VIII's mistress, Anne Boleyn. Catherine even went to her deathbed with only forgiveness in her heart for the king who had caused her so much pain. Her death fits into the Raucous Rumor of the month...

Rumor: Anne and Henry wore yellow to mourn the death of Catherine of Aragon because it was the color of mourning in Spain. Some accounts report both Anne and Henry wearing yellow to show their respect. Some accounts report just one wearing yellow.

Possible Source: This rumor has been floating around the internet for some time. Its origins are not completely unfounded. Edward Hall, the chronicler, reported that Anne wore yellow for mourning.

The Truth:
After Catherine's death, the Spanish Ambassador, Chapuys, wrote a letter to Emperor Charles V stating:

“On the following day, Sunday, the King was clad all over in yellow, from top to toe, except the white feather he had in his bonnet, and the Little Bastard (Elizabeth) was conducted to mass with trumpets and other great triumphs. After dinner the King entered the room in which the ladies danced, and there did several things like one transported with joy.” (1) Parenthesis added by me

Chapuys was well aware that yellow was the color of jubilation. In the inventory for the Accounts of the Revels, there are numerous examples of yellow velvet and yellow satin being ordered for the ladies’ dresses to celebrate the royal festivities. Interesting, Anne was pregnant at the time of Catherine’s death and had decorated her confinement room in yellow ochre. Hall's reference to Anne wearing yellow to mourn may have been merely a sarcastic jab at Anne's lack of grief for Catherine’s death. (2)


Either way, the color of mourning in Spain was black, not yellow. When Juana the Mad’s husband died (shown above), she ordered all her ladies to wear black. When she herself died, Charles V wore black. And when Philip II died, a proclamation ordered by his son, Philip III sent the country into mourning. In Seville, so much black fabric was sold that it created a black market on black clothes. (no pun intended) In fact, when Chapuys was invited to attend Catherine’s funeral, he was offered black cloth to mourn his beloved queen, not yellow.

Sorrowful Tears or Dancing on the Grave?
We can only guess as to why Anne and Henry were callous enough to wear yellow. Henry was certainly relieved at the death of his ex-queen for it meant that he no longer had to fear any meddling from her nephew, Charles. Catherine’s death signified a brief respite from the fear of Spanish invasion. For Anne, it signified the death of her greatest rival.

There seems to be this trend lately amongst Annophiles to raise the tragic queen up to sainthood as a woman incapable of any blame. I personally don’t see any figure who usurps another women’s position as a feminist role model. Whether you choose to see the controversial Anne Boleyn as harlet or heroine, neither Henry nor Anne were feeling twangs of compassion over Catherine's death. The two lovers were as joyous as their yellow attire.

Stay tuned for next week when we snoop into the love letters of Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn....

Notes:
(1) SP January 1536, 21-25, 141. Chapuys to Charles V, 21 Jan.Vienna Archives.
(2) Warnicke, p. 188

Sources and Further Reading:
Warnicke, Retha M. The Rise and Fall of Anne Boleyn. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press; Reprint edition (July 26, 1991).
Starkey, David. The Six Wives of Henry VIII. New York, NY: Harper Perennial, 2004
State Papers Online

16th Century Love: Children

This month, I will be writing posts only about the subject of love and passion throughout history. I am starting out with the greatest love of all - the love of a child.

In the 16th century, the ideal relationship between parent and child was spelled out clearly in emblem books. Emblem books were sort of like the clip art of their day. Women would flip through them and copy the images of birds, animals, and fish to use in embroidery. Emblem books sometimes contained both pictures and text and usually contained allegorical themes with some moral lesson. The purpose of emblem books was to convey a set of beliefs. Think of them as cliff notes to the bible for people who couldn't read.

Here is an example from Claude Paradin's Emblem book. The motto reads “Love of parents to their children is blind or void of reason.” To illustrate this point, we have a rather ugly looking mama ape lovingly gazing into the eyes of her even uglier ape baby. The mama ape doesn't realize junior looks like a simian elf. All she knows is that she loves him to death even though junior is about to whack mama ape on the side of her head.

But wait...this is not a message of maternal love. If you turn the page and read the rest of the text. You will see that the moral lesson is to not be overindulgent with your children. (The word cocker means to treat with over indulgence.) The message here is...give your kid an inch and they take a mile. ahhhh alas still true even today.

Monkeys in 16th century art and portrature often symbolized uncontrollable passion and desires. Stay tuned for more mad monkey love in later posts....

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