The woman known to history as Jane Seymour,
the third wife of Henry VIII, was born at her parents’ country estate of Wolfhall
in Wiltshire sometime between October 1507 and October 1508. It is unclear why her exact date of birth
is not recorded but considering that Jane was her parents’ seventh child and first
daughter, her exact date of birth was probably not considered to be worth remembering. Neither is her early life particularly well-documented. Jane’s father was Sir John Seymour. The Seymours had served as caretakers of Savernake
Forest in Wiltshire for centuries, and Sir John himself served as the local sheriff and
justice of the peace. His 1200-acre estate provided a comfortable,
but by no means impressive living by the standards of the contemporary nobility. The most complimentary term for the Seymours
in the context of Tudor England would probably be “country gentry.” Sir John had served and fought alongside Henry
VIII in France in 1513 and 1514, earning the young king’s admiration for his bravery
and loyalty. Much of Sir John’s social capital came from
the gratitude of his king for his military service, but also from his marriage. Jane’s mother, Lady Margaret Wentworth,
was a descendant of Edward III. Lady Margery, as she was more familiarly known,
had a far more aristocratic bloodline than her husband, making her an impressive catch
for the likes of John Seymour. She was reportedly a quiet, kind, and gentle
woman, and Jane’s biographers speculate that she may have inherited her notable docility,
quiet dignity, and compassionate demeanor from her mother. Sir John and Lady Margery had ten children,
six of whom survived to adulthood. The sedate and provincial life of the Tudor
country gentry was not suited to those with ambition, and Sir John made efforts to educate
his elder sons and launch political and military careers for them in the king’s service. Jane’s eldest brother Edward, and her third
brother, Thomas, both rose steadily in consequence and esteem throughout the reign of Henry VIII. Jane’s education was far less varied or
academically rigorous than that of her older brothers. She was not a noble lady – “gentlewoman”
was probably the most exalted term which could be applied to her. And the Seymours were not nearly wealthy or
important enough to merit providing an elite education for a daughter. Jane was taught to read in English, and she
could sign her name, but it is unclear whether she was ever taught to write or how well developed
her skills may have been. She could speak a little French and seems
to have had a nodding acquaintance with Latin but this seems to have been the extent of
her academic training. Jane would have learned to dance and been
trained in the social etiquette of polite society. She was said to be an excellent horsewoman
and enjoyed following the hunt, both as a young woman, and years later, by Henry’s
side as Queen. Jane would have had opportunities for amusements
and social niceties, but much of her early life and education was probably designed to
prepare her for genteel domesticity. She would have been instructed in the duties
of mistress of the house, including caring for the family, acting as hostess, planning
menus, and supervising and directing servants in all of the tasks required to keep the house
running on a fairly large estate. It is also quite possible that Jane, her mother,
and her three younger sisters were more directly involved in household work than one might
suppose. Their estate was entirely respectable but
the family did not belong to the leisure class. This distinction could be clarified by how
much or how little housework was done by female family members directly. English noblewomen rarely put their hands
to any domestic task. The Seymour daughters, especially Jane as
the eldest girl, may very well have been taught to cook, or been expected to perform domestic
chores. It is known for certain that Jane was well-schooled
in sewing and embroidery, two skills at which she particularly excelled. The fine, intricate, and artistic quality
of her needlework was apparently remarkable enough for samples of it to survive for a
century and a half on display in Hampton Court Palace. Jane’s surviving tapestries were gifted
to the descendants of the Seymour family in the 1650s. Next to household matters, it may, perhaps,
have been Jane’s religious instruction which received the most attention. Sir John and Lady Margery were devout Catholics,
as were the majority of the English prior to Henry’s break with the Roman Church,
and the Seymours kept a priest in permanent residence at Wolfhall until the 1530s. Jane’s continued attachment to Catholicism
and her noted sympathy for persecuted Catholics during Henry’s reformation probably stemmed
from her early religious education. Jane is described by multiple sources as kind,
gentle, meek, and rather shy in company. Many historians suppose that the portrait
which Hans Holbein painted of her in 1536 is probably a fairly good likeness. Jane is painted with a round face, a pointed,
somewhat pinched chin, thin lips, and a prominent nose. She was described as having had very pale
skin, greyish-blue eyes, and golden or strawberry blonde hair. More than one contemporary observer suggested
that she was plain rather than beautiful, and one of her biographers has considered
it worth emphasizing that she remained unmarried until her late twenties – a very late first
marriage for a Tudor woman. Jane’s parents could not afford much in
the way of dowries for their daughters, largely because educating sons and launching careers
for them was so expensive. With a modest or non-existent dowry, a woman
stood a better chance in the marriage market if she were pretty. Jane’s younger sister Elizabeth, who is
believed to have inherited her mother’s reportedly exceptional good looks, was married
in her mid-teens to an upwardly mobile young knight. There was some talk of a betrothal in the
mid-1520s between Jane and Sir Robert Dormer’s son, William. But her lack of a dowry was a sticking point
with the Dormer family. Still unmarried at nineteen years old, Jane
was finally able to secure a place as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Katherine of Aragon through the influence
of her cousin by marriage, the courtier Sir Francis Bryan. It seems the primary objective in sending
Jane to the English court was to help her to contract the most advantageous marriage
possible. No one could have dreamed that her intended
would be the King, and that within less than ten years of her arrival at court, the quiet,
plain, unprepossessing Mistress Seymour would become Queen of England. Jane arrived at Greenwich Palace near London
sometime during the first half of 1527 – roughly around the same time that Anne Boleyn returned
from France to serve as a fellow lady-in-waiting to Queen Katherine. Jane spent the next five years in the Queen’s
household, watching events unfold, particularly those which led Henry to divorce his first
wife. Jane’s quiet and serene demeanor gave no
sign of what she thought about the very public relationship between King Henry and Anne Boleyn. Her admiration and devotion to both Queen
Katherine and her daughter, Princess Mary, only increased the longer she remained with
them at court. Her high regard for both mother and daughter
would become much more evident later on. Jane was almost certainly discreet enough
not to air her opinions about Anne Boleyn’s relationship with Henry, or about Anne’s
conduct toward Queen Katherine and her daughter. If she had shown any open disapproval or hostility,
it is doubtful that Anne Boleyn would have retained Jane as one of her ladies-in-waiting
when she became Queen Anne. Jane spent two years in Anne Boleyn’s household
and throughout most of this period, there is no evidence that Anne was at all dissatisfied
with her service or her attitude, and this tells us two very intriguing things about
Jane Seymour. First, she may have appeared mousy, placid,
and obliging, but she obviously kept her own counsel and played her cards close to her
chest. Secondly, Jane’s conduct toward Anne, both
before and after Henry began to court her, suggests that the woman whom most people probably
took for a doormat had a vivid streak of ambition. It is not known exactly when or under what
circumstances Henry and Jane first began to take a romantic interest in one another. They appeared quite enamored with each other
by January of 1536, but the affair quite possibly began earlier. Queen Anne became pregnant for the last time
midway through the previous October. Since sex during pregnancy was believed to
be dangerous for the child, Henry’s notorious roving eye may have wandered over to Jane
as early as November of 1535. In fact, it had been whispered at court that
Henry had even been pursuing yet another mistress. This woman, whose name we do not know, is
mentioned in several sources dated 1534, less than a year after Henry’s marriage to Anne. On the 29th of January 1536, the day of Katherine
of Aragon’s funeral, the imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys claimed to have observed Henry
“paying marked attention to Mistress Seymour and giving her gifts.” Later that same afternoon, Queen Anne was
said to have stumbled upon a private meeting between Henry and Jane, flying into a rage
at finding one of her ladies sitting on her husband’s knee. Reportedly, Henry quickly sent Jane from the
room and attempted to calm Anne, for fear that her distress would harm their child. This account comes from Jane Dormer, the Duchess
of Feria, who, many years later, claimed to have heard it during her service as lady-in-waiting
to Queen Mary I. Yet, since it was recorded so many years after
the event, the veracity of the story is uncertain. What is certain is that roughly at the end
of January, perhaps that very night of the 29th, Anne Boleyn miscarried her last child. In a letter dated the same day, ambassador
Chapuys informed the imperial foreign minister that he had attended a secret meeting with
Thomas Cromwell, Henry’s chief minister. Cromwell had confidentially expressed the
king’s wish for a renewal of his alliance with Emperor Charles V, against the King of
France, Francis I. Cromwell also apparently related to Chapuys a private discussion he
had had earlier that day with the king, during which Henry had supposedly confided his belief
that he had entered into his marriage seduced by witchcraft, making his marriage invalid,
and that he was resolved to take another wife. Jane’s last few months in Anne’s service
were no doubt extremely tense and difficult for both women. Henry was not nearly discreet enough in paying
court to Jane, whose mistress, the Queen, still had power over her. Anne’s star was fading. She knew it and it made her anxious and highly
temperamental. She was said to have slapped Jane on multiple
occasions for perceived insolence or for flaunting Henry’s attentions before her mistress. It is unclear whether Jane actually did behave
in such a way, or if Anne, consumed by jealousy, may simply have been watching her every move
and venting her frustration at every perceived impertinence. One account suggests a very different image
of Jane than her traditionally meek and obliging one. Sometime in February or March of 1536, Jane
reportedly received a gold locket from Henry which contained a miniature portrait of him. The story goes that Jane made a great production
out of opening and closing the locket in front of the Queen. Enraged, Anne was said to have savagely ripped
the locket from around Jane’s neck, cutting her own finger in the process. As infuriating as Jane’s presence was to
Anne, she did not dare dismiss Jane from her service. The Queen was growing more insecure by the
day, afraid to do anything which might inflame Henry’s wrath or motivate him to divorce
her. As her power ebbed, she was said to have dwelt
sorrowfully on her treatment of Queen Katherine and Princess Mary. Jane’s conscience, on the other hand, seemed
untroubled by what would prove to be a complete and deadly triumph over her rival. Traditionally, Jane Seymour has been portrayed
as a selfless, compassionate, kind, even saintly figure. Some of these impressions probably stem from
Jane’s actual conduct and behavior in public, which gave most of her contemporaries an idea
of her character with which they could all agree. Jane was quiet, gentle, and submissive, but
it strains credulity to imagine that anyone could be completely free of judgment, bias,
or even cold disregard, especially toward those whom one believes deserve judgment. Jane quite possibly despised Anne, just as
more and more courtiers did throughout Anne’s tenure as Queen. She became more and more difficult to serve,
and to please as her anxiety increased. She had alienated a growing faction of political
players at Henry’s court who viewed with suspicion and hostility her attempts to influence
Henry’s policies, and blamed her for the King’s religious reforms. The most important considerations for Jane,
however, were probably her staunchly Catholic faith, as well as her love, admiration, and
pity for Katherine of Aragon and Lady Mary. Jane’s feelings and principles might have
made her resent Anne, above all, for her Protestant reformism and her callous treatment of both
Katherine and Mary. Far from being the saintly and selfless woman
that liberated Henry from his cursed marriage, the real Jane Seymour was far more human. In fact, it may be fair to say that Jane captured
Henry using exactly the same playbook Anne had used years before, to seduce him away
from Katherine. Two sets of circumstances however, are still
unclear. First, whether it was Henry or Jane who first
attempted to initiate a romantic overture, and second, whether the romance bloomed of
its own accord, or was engineered by those courtiers who were desperate to see Anne removed
as Queen, the Protestant reforms halted, and Lady Mary restored to the succession. Tragically and fatally, Anne herself had created
the possibility for her own eventual downfall. When Henry successfully divorced Katherine
and married Anne, a Pandora’s box was opened. If Anne could be Queen, why not Jane? There were several courtiers who were, for
various religious, political, or personal reasons, committed to bringing Anne Boleyn
down including most notably, the Marquess and Marchioness of Exeter, the Duke of Suffolk,
Sir Nicholas Carew, Thomas Cromwell, Sir Francis Bryan, and imperial ambassador Chapuys. It is entirely possible that such a powerful
group may have orchestrated the affair by manipulating events to help Jane catch Henry’s
interest. She was very likely coached and guided in
the King’s likes and dislikes by these individuals, as well as by her own family, who would, no
doubt, have been ecstatic to see Jane capture the King. On the other hand, the affair between Jane
and Henry may have begun more organically, and the conspirators may have approached her
after the fact. Jane does not strike one as the type who would
initiate a flirtation with the king of her own volition, so perhaps it was Henry who
approached her. Some historians have wondered how Henry could
spend so many years in love with women like Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn, and then
fall for someone like Jane Seymour. Katherine and Anne had both been highly educated,
witty, charming, articulate, and conventionally beautiful. Jane could match Henry’s first two wives
in none of these qualities. Some historians have suggested that Henry
may have fallen for Jane precisely because she was Anne’s polar opposite. Henry had admired Anne’s sophistication,
wit, and passion, but did not appreciate her sharp tongue. Anne had been a difficult and demanding mistress,
and now that Henry was growing older, his declining health no doubt made him increasingly
impatient and irascible with anyone who challenged him. He may have found Jane’s quiet piety, serenity,
and meek submissiveness soothing and refreshing. Despite the recriminations between Henry and
Anne however, undoubtedly her worst sin of all was failing to produce a son. It is worth noting that Henry did not ultimately
decide to pursue a third marriage until after Anne’s last miscarriage. Sometime in February of 1536, Henry sent Sir
Nicholas Carew to Jane carrying a love letter and small purse heavy with gold coins. Sir Nicholas later informed the King that
Mistress Seymour had refused to accept either the letter or the purse. He claimed she had held the letter for a moment,
placed a reverent kiss upon the letter’s seal, and then handed it back to Sir Nicholas
without reading it. She had returned the gold also, and falling
to her knees before him, she entreated Sir Nicholas to beg the King’s understanding,
that she was a woman of good and moral upbringing. She would suffer a thousand deaths, she said,
rather than sacrifice her honour. She thanked Henry for his gift but requested
that he might retain it for now, and give it to her once she had contracted an honourable
marriage. If true, this account is very telling. Jane had been accepting expensive gifts from
Henry for months, which begs the question of why her scruples suddenly returned at this
particular moment. Some historians have departed from the traditional
image of Jane by pointing out that her conduct in this instance was straight out of Anne
Boleyn’s playbook, and shows that Jane herself followed a very similar strategy: respond
to Henry’s advances but refuse to be his mistress, thereby forcing the issue of marriage. It worked on Henry like a charm, but then
again, it appears that since Henry had no son by his current wife, he was more than
willing to be beguiled. In returning his letter and the gold, Jane
had behaved, Henry said, “most modestly,” and he resolved thenceforth only to pay court
to Jane in the presence of one or more of her relatives. Accordingly, Henry promptly removed Thomas
Cromwell from his chambers, which adjoined the King’s, and gave them to Jane’s brother,
Edward Seymour. Now he and Jane could continue to meet fairly
privately, but still be properly chaperoned to avoid any scandal attaching itself to her
reputation. But by early March, some less-than-complimentary
gossip had already begun to circulate throughout London about Henry’s affair with Jane, and
there was some sympathy for Queen Anne who was obviously out of favour with her husband,
the King. Henry had abandoned both Anne and their collapsing
marriage by the end of February, leaving her behind at Greenwich Palace while he took up
temporary residence at York Place in London. He continued to discreetly court Jane throughout
the month of March. By the 1st of April, rumours of their meetings
in Edward Seymour’s chambers became more widely known at court. Henry then moved Jane out of Greenwich Palace
to a royal residence in Chelsea, a short distance along the Thames River from York Place. This probably had less to do with protecting
Jane’s reputation however, than with keeping her away from the ugly process already underway
at court – the campaign to accuse Anne Boleyn of capital crimes, thus effecting her removal
and execution. However, Jane could not have been ignorant
of what Henry intended, even if she was most likely ignorant of the finer details. There is no account of Jane in which she reacts
with anything other than her customary quiet serenity to the news that Anne Boleyn’s
death was imminent. Henry visited Jane the very morning that Anne
was to be executed, to comfort her and assure her that they would very soon be married. The traditional historical portrait of Anne
Boleyn has often been that of the devious, grasping “other woman,” while Jane Seymour
has often been portrayed as a paragon of gentle, unselfish compassion. Yet, the fact remains that Jane found it seemingly
easy, as one historian put it, to “step neatly over the dead body of her rival,”
right into Henry’s arms and onto the throne next to him, just as Anne had taken Queen
Katherine’s place, seemingly without a qualm. Henry and Jane were officially betrothed the
very next day following Anne Boleyn’s execution, and less than two weeks later, on the 30th
of May, 1536, the two were married in a small, semi-private ceremony in the Queen’s closet
at Whitehall, with the religiously conservative Bishop Stephen Gardiner officiating. Jane’s well-known sympathies for Catholicism
and for the Lady Mary made many anti-reform courtiers hopeful that her influence on Henry
might help halt the march towards Protestantism in England. Anne Boleyn’s emblem as Queen had featured
a crowned falcon with the motto: “the most happy.” Jane’s choice of emblem as Queen spoke volumes. Hers was a crowned phoenix, her motto: “bound
to obey and serve.” The message seemed clear: through her faith
and service as Henry’s wife, England would rise from the ashes after the confusion and
upheaval caused by the King’s divorce. Eustace Chapuys was among the most hopeful,
and he assured Emperor Charles V in a letter that he would encourage the new Queen to continue
in her efforts to restore Lady Mary both to Henry’s favour, and to the succession. In a subsequent conversation between Jane
and Chapuys, she herself confirmed to him that she would always show kindness to Mary
and seek to reconcile her with her father. Henry quickly broke up this conference, perhaps
uncomfortable with the notion of Jane exerting influence at his court on behalf of the Emperor,
at least indirectly. Making sure that a Catholic inherited the
English throne was one of Charles V’s principal foreign policy goals from the 1530s to the
1550s. Should Henry and Jane’s marriage not produce
a male heir, then Lady Mary stood a better chance of taking the throne with the Queen’s
support. As Queen, Jane did indeed advocate for Lady
Mary. Even before she and Henry were wed, she had
asked him to reinstate Mary as his heir. Henry had scoffed gently at the idea, advising
her that, instead, she ought to be advocating for the inheritance rights of the children
that Jane herself would have with Henry. But her subsequent attempts to interfere with
the King’s policies were met with less and less patience from him. Those who had hoped that Jane might be more
successful at influencing Henry’s decisions than either of her predecessors were disappointed. For Henry, regardless of his wife’s entreaties,
refused to reconcile with his eldest daughter unless she repudiated the Pope, acknowledged
Henry as Head of the Church, affirmed the illegitimacy of her parents’ marriage, and
admitted her own bastardy. Henry, via a letter from Thomas Cromwell,
even threatened her with treason and a death sentence should she refuse to submit. Despite her failure to exert her influence
over Henry’s decisions as head of state and church, Jane’s seemingly sincere dedication
to her religious and moral beliefs is one quality which speaks in her favour. She honoured her promise to Chapuys and treated
Lady Mary kindly and generously, spending a great deal of time with her at court. She also continued to urge Henry to reinstate
Mary to the succession. This suggests that even if she had not become
pregnant, Jane was just as committed to the notion of a Catholic heir for England as the
faction which had helped to make her Queen. Once she was on the throne, there was really
nothing to force her to continue pursuing a pro-Catholic agenda – except her own conviction. This might help explain her seeming reluctance
to reach out to Henry’s younger daughter, Princess Elizabeth. Jane showed no hesitation to treat Mary as
her stepdaughter and close companion, but did not extend the same to Elizabeth, who
was not yet four years old when her mother died. Perhaps Jane felt she could not speak for
Elizabeth without daring the wrath of Henry, who might very well have bridled at any reference
to his late wife. Perhaps Jane’s own dislike for Anne Boleyn
made her hesitant to embrace Elizabeth as her stepdaughter. Whatever the reason, Elizabeth’s household
and the child herself were less and less adequately provided for during the months that followed
her mother’s death. Within six months, Elizabeth’s servants
and caretakers were poaching game to keep her household fed and no one seemed to care
that she had outgrown all of her clothes without the means to have new ones made. It was Lady Mary who seems to have advocated
for her younger sister, a sister she had resented having to serve but whom she had compassion
for, as a child too young to understand how dramatically her life and status had changed. Mary may have had more to do with Elizabeth’s
restoration to the family fold and to Henry’s favour than her stepmother had. Jane did appear to have priorities, however. During the year following her marriage, Jane
tried on multiple occasions to persuade Henry to halt Protestant reforms and to show mercy
and understanding to those who found the changes hard to accept. During the campaign known as the Pilgrimage
of Grace, when thousands of people in the north of England rose in rebellion, Queen
Jane begged Henry to restore the monasteries which were being dissolved across England. Henry reacted badly, offering Jane a harsh
warning by reminding her what had happened to Anne Boleyn. Jane became pregnant early in 1537, and by
late spring, she was experiencing pregnancy cravings, notably for quail and quail’s
eggs. Henry was jubilant and set about making plans
for the celebrations that would accompany the birth of his heir and finally, Queen Jane’s
coronation, which Henry intended to be one of the most spectacular ever staged for an
English Queen. Jane’s pregnancy was largely placid and
she seemed contented and in general good health throughout. The Queen entered her confinement early in
September of 1537, roughly one month before the expected delivery. She was accompanied by the few women permitted
to attend a Queen during the late stages of pregnancy, including the now twenty-one-year-old
Lady Mary. Jane Seymour went into labour on the ninth
of October. When Henry was informed, he excitedly ordered
that preparations begin for the ceremonial two-thousand gun salute, for Te Deums to be
sung in every church, for free food and wine to be provided for the people, and for the
bonfires to be lit to celebrate his son’s birth. But the hours passed, then a full day, then
another, and still the Queen’s labour continued. Finally, at two o’clock in the morning on
the 12th of October 1537, exhausted and racked with pain, Jane gave birth to Henry’s longed-for
son and heir, the future Edward VI of England. The Queen remained at rest for several days
following Edward’s birth before she was “churched” or purified and thus permitted
to leave her formal confinement. She appeared drained, weak, and even paler
than usual, but it had been almost a week since the birth and most of the court considered
her to be out of danger. But on the 17th, she came down with a raging
fever and lapsed into delirium. Throughout the following week, Jane rallied
briefly, twice, regaining consciousness and appearing to make small improvements. But rather than making the hoped-for full
recovery, Jane died quietly on the 24th of October 1537, at the age of twenty-nine. She had succumbed to what most historians
between the eighteenth and twentieth centuries believed was puerperal fever, or childbed
fever, which resulted from an infection contracted during delivery, perhaps from unsterilized
medical equipment. However, multiple sources contemporary with
the actual event claim that Jane died as a result of surgery attempted during labour,
specifically a caesarean section. The midwives and physicians who had attended
the Queen during her labour had begun to lose hope of a safe delivery by the morning of
11th October. Several sources claim that one or more of
them approached Henry on the matter of the child’s survival versus Jane’s, should
the labour continue and a choice need to be made. Some sources claim that Henry chose Jane,
others that he chose the child. What these professionals were essentially
asking was whether Henry would allow a caesarean section to be performed on the Queen, if it
appeared that the child might perish with her. Caesarean sections were known in Tudor England,
but were extremely taboo because they virtually always killed the mother. They were therefore not typically performed
on living women, but more often on women after they had died during childbirth. Later historians tended to suppose that the
accounts which described Henry’s choosing to save the life of the child were Catholic
propaganda, designed to discredit Henry, which is why they discounted the claims that Jane
underwent surgery. Yet, some of these sources were written by
reformers and Protestants, and some claim that Jane herself consented to the procedure. Based on the descriptions of her symptoms
during her final illness, Jane Seymour almost certainly died of sepsis arising from an infection
sustained during childbirth. But the atmosphere of the birthing chamber
was so rarified and the veracity of multiple accounts so difficult to judge that we may
never know exactly why she died. Traditionally, Jane has been remembered as
Henry’s most loved, most favoured, and most revered wife, and that was certainly the impression
that Henry wished to convey. Jane Seymour was given a magnificent funeral,
worthy of the Queen of England, even though she had not lived long enough to be officially
crowned Queen. Henry also requested that he be buried next
to Jane. The portrait painted during Henry’s marriage
to Katherine Parr, known as “The Family of Henry VIII,” shows Henry surrounded by
his children, but instead of Katherine Parr, Jane Seymour is painted standing in the place
reserved for Henry’s Queen. The fact that some histories have depicted
Jane as a rather saint-like figure probably has much to do with her overall demeanor and
personality, but also, perhaps more important, the manner of her death. What could be more selfless to someone like
Henry, than to die giving him the son he desired above all things? Yet, despite her traditional historical reputation,
Jane was probably no better or worse a person than Anne Boleyn, who has more often been
vilified for usurping Katherine’s place, than Jane has been for usurping Anne’s. Historians still wonder: did Henry truly love
Jane more than any of his other wives? Or was it just that she died before his love
could fade? Was it simply because she gave birth to his
son? And why would he revere for the rest of his
life a woman he had loved for little more than a year, yet also ban all images and forbid
all discussion in his presence of the woman who had consumed his life and heart throughout
the previous decade? It speaks eloquently of the guilt Henry almost
certainly felt about Anne, that after her death, he ordered all of her emblems and all
images of her to be removed from royal residences, and no one ever heard him speak of her again. Following Jane’s death, more than two years
would pass before Henry once again found his way to the altar. In January of 1540, he wed the twenty-four-year-old
German princess, Anne of Cleves, a marriage that lasted only six months. Despite the pain and embarrassment that her
short, abortive marriage must have caused her, Anna, to use the German version of her
name, arguably fared better than any of her five counterparts when her marriage came to
an end. Of all of Henry’s wives, Anna’s origins
tend to be the least well-known, since, from the English perspective, their marriage was
little more than a blip in the larger context of Henry’s reign but upon close consideration
of what little is known, both Anna herself and her story strike the observer as highly
unique and interesting. What do you think of Jane Seymour and Anne
of Cleves? Please let us know in the comments section
and as always, thank you very much for watching!
