Her beauty probably saved her head

Towards the end of my regular runs through the Sussex town of Lewes, and my final destination—the post at the top of an unnecessarily steep hill outside a 15th-century bookshop—I always run past another 15th-century building: the former house of Anne of Cleves.

Anne was the fourth wife of Henry VIII (he had six in total), and the only one he divorced because he thought, to put it in modern language, Hans Holbein the Younger, the great Tudor portrait artist, had used some early photoshopping to catfish him.

Henry had agreed to the marriage on the basis of the portrait Holbein had painted and was so enraged when he finally met Anne that, although he went ahead with the wedding, he divorced her around seven months later.
Not an ideal outcome for her, but it could have been much worse—two of Henry's other wives were executed on his orders.

So naturally, an idea came to me earlier as I once again ran past her house: what did she actually look like? We know Holbein's painting is not accurate, but thanks to the AI tools at our disposal, we probably have as accurate an answer as we'll get... at least until a time machine has been built... Which at the rate new tech announcements are being made —will probably be in six weeks' time...

I asked AI (DeepSeek & ChatGPT) to find me every detailed historical description of Anne by people who met her. Then I asked ChatGPT to act as an expert forensic artist and produce a detailed sketch of her. And finally, ChatGPT-4o to create a photo of her. The result is the lady we see.

Anne was described by one chronicler as "a ladie of right commendable regards, courteous, gentle, a good housekeeper and verie bountifull to her servants." And the face looking back at us across time seems to fit.

Henry may very well have made his biggest mistake in this instance.

But I will leave the last word to another Tudor icon, William Shakespeare:

Anne of Cleves – A Tudor Tale (in Shakespearean style):
Lo, here stands she whose visage stirred no fire
In lustful Henry’s oft-enkindled breast;
Yet beauty lies not only in desire,
But in the grace that lets a soul find rest.
A brow high-set, a gaze both firm and kind,
With golden locks that caught the waning sun—
No siren's song, yet peace within her mind,
And of all wives, the wisest was she—one.
For though her face was scorned by royal whim,
And courtly flattery did not suffice,
She kept her head, unlike the fates of grim
Queens two, who paid with blood the marriage price.
No lover's crown, no sovereign’s warm embrace,
Yet lands and title did she fair retain;
In Lewes dwelt she, in quietude and grace,
While others bore the weight of courtly chain.
She played no fool, nor danced in silken guile,
Her beauty plain, yet honest as the day;
And time hath looked on her with softer smile
Than kings who cast their truest peace away.

Tope, Founder, Pixel Gallery