Meanwhile, the lady Anne of Cleves had made her unwelcome appearance.  One of the most curious and indeed incomprehensible facts concerning Henry VIII., is the admiring awe and grovelling gratitude with which he was adored by most of the women whom he had the privilege of ill-treating.  After the year 1527, when he first conceived the desire of raising Anne Boleyn to the throne, and of divorcing Katharine, except for the short period during which he was married to Jane Seymour, there were always two rival claimants for his hand.  Not only was Katharine ever generously ready to forget past insults if he would graciously extend his clemency towards her, and send Anne away, but every other woman with whom he came in contact, addressed him in words more suited to a divinity than to an earthly king.  His daughter Mary, after having been spurned as the most degraded and abject creature of the realm, longed for nothing more ardently than “to attain the fruition of his most desired presence.”

Although the personal appearance of Anne of Cleves did not bear out the exaggerated reports of the German agent Mont, who had told Henry that her beauty exceeded that of the Duchess of Milan “as the sun outshines the silver moon,” she was found on her arrival in England to be “tall, bright, and graceful,” her liveliness making amends for any defect as to regularity of feature.  Comparing her claim to beauty with that of the other wives of Henry VIII., it does not appear that she contrasted unfavourably with any, not even with Katharine Howard, who was very generally admired.  The king himself observed to Cromwell that Anne was “well and seemly, and had a queenly manner,” but that he found it difficult to converse with her as she knew no word of any language but German.

He had first met her privately at Rochester, and had dined with her, their public meeting taking place about half a mile from the foot of Shooter’s Hill, where she rested in a gorgeous pavilion prepared for the occasion.  Henry came marching through Greenwich Park with a brilliant escort, and the bride and bridegroom met full merrily.  The king embraced the lady ceremoniously, and the chronicler Hall, some time afterwards, in describing their entry into Greenwich, breaks out into one of his eulogistic periods: 

“O what a sight was this, to see so goodly a Prince and so noble a King to ride with so fair a lady, of so goodly a stature, and so womanly a countenance, and in especial of so good qualities.  I think no creature could see them but his heart rejoiced!”

Nevertheless, Henry’s moody question, “What remedy?” which obviously had its origin in no mere disappointment in the matter of Anne’s beauty or power to charm, was calculated to strike terror into Cromwell’s soul, the chancellor knowing full well that all this bravery was but an appearance, and that his great scheme of Lutheranising England to the greater glory of himself was irrevocably wrecked, and his own fate sealed.  The king went on to say that if it were not that the lady had come so far, and for fear of making a ruffle in the world, and of driving her brother into the emperor’s arms and those of the French king, he would not go through with the marriage ceremony.