Amalia of Cleves – the sad tale of Anne’s forgotten sister

Amalia of Cleves

Amalia of Cleves – the sad tale of Anne’s forgotten sister

Very little is known of this woman – but she was within one choice of being Henry VIII’s fourth queen and therefore queen of England. Instead, he chose her older sister Anne who became the queen he divorced and who became the favourite of many historians.

Amalia was the youngest daughter of John and Maria Julich Berg of Cleves. She was raised in a close family and like all German princesses would have been raised to be accomplished in sewing, baking, and household management. But she would not have been exposed to the languages, the music, the philosophy, the art of flirtation or seduction, and the politics of an English, Spanish or French court. She would have had no company of men after the age of twelve. Life and expectations would have been much simpler.

Amalia, like her sister Ann, would have expected to be betrothed to a suitable boy – more for political alliance than for love. Though she had witness great love and affection between her parents. No doubt she grew up hoping that the man chosen as her husband would be as adoring as her father was to her mother. Then her eldest sister, Sybille, married well and appeared to be well pleased with her lot. The future looked hopeful for Amalia of Cleves.

But it was not to be.

In 1539, word arrived from England that Henry was seeking a new queen after his grief over Jane Seymour had subsided. He wanted a bride who was young enough to bear him another son and who would also be a convenient link to Europe. Both Anne and Amalia fitted the criteria so Ambassador Doctor Nicolas Wotton and others arrived on a visit to assess their potential.

At that point, Amalia was as much in the running for the role of Queen of England as Ann. The visit was a little tense – their mother refusing to lift their veils for the men to judge their looks.  Eventually, it was agreed that Holbein, Henrys favoured portrait painter, would visit to paint both sisters. His sketches showed both girls to be pretty and similar in looks. And so, the choice became a material one – which sister was more valuable? Anne being older was more likely to inherit land, and so she was picked. Amalia was discarded.

When Anne left for England in her golden carriage in November 1539, Amalia was left alone with her mother. Maybe she still hoped for a bright future as a lady or princess – but it was not to be.

Amalia’s brother, William, took over the role of her father who had died in the previous February and so became the decider of her destiny.  There was a flicker of hope when he betrothed her to Bernard of Barden, but rumours of the man’s dreadful persona soon put an end to that strategy. Instead, Amalia was made governess to her nephews and nieces, staying behind the walls of a castle being motherly, but never a mother.

We know she liked chess and was took a keen interest in poetry in which she was able to express her loneliness. There is a book in Berlin holding Amalia’s poem on the loneliness of longing for a beloved. We also know she could be determined – once incensing her brother in a dispute over her Lutheran religion that he made at her with a sword.

And maybe, just maybe, as she aged and the prospect of ever being a wife and mother diminished, she sought another type of love. She was close enough to a woman called Katharina to cause gossip and consternation in court. But who knows what happened in the lonely heart of Amalia of Cleves.

She died at the age of 68 having been a daughter and sister of dukes, sister to a queen – but only ever an aunt and governess herself.