A COUNTDOWN TO HER EXECUTION: PART 3/4 ARTICLES
Note: I have been making regular posts on a daily basis detailing every day of the fall of Anne Boleyn, but for my convenience have put together a full scale article of Anne's life in 1536, beginning to end. It is in two parts. Enjoy! -- K.C.
Historians are in agreement about one thing pertaining to
Henry VIII’s life– 1536 was the year that altered it, perhaps forever. However
much this can be accredited to Anne Boleyn, she spent very little of it with
him – this year would see her life not only turned upside-down, but ended at
the edge of a French blade before the end of May. She had been the queen of
England for one thousand days; Henry had been the king of England for
twenty-seven years.
There
are many questions surrounding the great enigma of the year 1536: Why and how did Henry VIII become such a tyrant?
Why did he have to order Anne Boleyn’s execution? If she wasn’t guilty of
treason and adultery, how was she condemned? How long did it take for the queen
to be brought down? What political factors influenced the fall of Anne Boleyn –
why did she fall? What was England’s
reaction and how did it change upon her disgrace and death? Lastly, perhaps
most importantly as these articles are in tribute to her life, what was Anne Boleyn’s personal life like in this
dramatic, treacherous and deadly year? Shockingly, it started out blissfully,
beautifully, with victory.
After a
golden summer on progress in which the queen had enjoyed both tremendous favor
and tremendous influence with the king, she returned to London pregnant, and
within months, in January 1536, she and Henry were to receive the best of news
– her predecessor, Catherine of Aragon, the shadow-queen who seemed to linger
eternally over them, was finally dead. Of course, it was around this time, when
they returned to London, that a pale and quiet and very simple lady-in-waiting,
Jane Seymour, caught the king’s eye. Naturally, Anne had been irritated, but
she was pregnant and this was the way of things; Jane would be the usual and
very temporary royal diversion. She could never know at the time the role that
Jane (or at least her supporters) would play in her oncoming destruction, and
so she was contented enough, all the more so with her long-time adversary’s
death and a male heir in her womb.
But
this great happiness was not to last, and her victory – Catherine of Aragon’s
death – was to transform into a key factor in her undoing. On January 24th,
Henry VIII fell unconscious after being unhorsed; around five days later Anne
would miscarry, and in a fatal confrontation in which the king dolefully
declared God would give them no sons, she would credit his accident as the
reason for the miscarriage. That, and the melancholy she experienced upon
seeing him locked in an embrace with the “pure and virginal” Jane Seymour.
Historian
Retha M. Warnicke credits this miscarriage of a male fetus as the whole reason
for the queen’s fall, claiming that it was deformed and this made for strong
evidence that she had led a sinful life. However, there is little unprejudiced evidence of any fetal
problems, nor is there that a relationship between Henry and Seymour became
serious until spring – thus, a quotation from Eric Ives’ The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn should clear up the common
misconception that this miscarriage led to the tragedy of May 19: “The
miscarriage of 29 January was neither Anne’s last chance nor the point at which
Jane Seymour replaced Anne in Henry’s priorities. It did, nevertheless, make
her vulnerable again.” She remained vulnerable, as she would always be without
a son, but this was her third pregnancy and fertility was not the problem;
Henry’s statement that God would not give them sons only proved that he did not
hold her to blame for their misfortunes, but credited divine will. At the rate
she took with child, there was no reason why she should get pregnant, again,
soon, and then have a son within a year. Anne Boleyn’s actual undoing would be quite
a bit more political.
And as
the king of England, Henry VIII and his moods were, if not entirely, than
largely, ‘politics’. His power was supreme, as he was both
spiritual and governmental head of England after the split from Rome and Roman
Catholicism, and in the months to come, his struggle to overcome the prying
injuries of his jousting fall (which would never fully heal) made his mood
inordinately foul. He was angry enough with Anne to leave her, while she
recovered from her miscarriage (which had left her in too much pain to walk), and
lead the court to Greenwich, in which Jane Seymour was roomed near to the king
in apartments which Cromwell had so kindly given up for her. It was the first
time since 1531, when he had left and never again seen Queen Catherine, that a
queen of England had been separated from the court. He was angry, but it was
not as if he had never been angry with her before, it is not as if he never
told her he could bring her down quickly as he had raised her, blamed her for
earning him so many enemies; it is my opinion that Henry VIII’s will and
emotional sentiments had a very minimal role in her destruction, but that it
was largely the doing of the adviser who had given up his apartments to Seymour
– Thomas Cromwell. The rift between Queen Anne and the lawyer whose loyalty to
her had been the source of his greatness would only grow and grow after this.
The
queen recovered and joined the court at Greenwich, where Jane and Henry had
been getting along so well that by March Chapuys recorded the affair, and Henry
was sending her money. Jane, egged on by a family of politicians who knew that
so much more could be squeezed out from a king than moneys if she paraded her
virtue and refused, accepted neither the money nor the subtle invitation to the
royal bed, and from there the attraction only heated and the Seymour family was
on the rise.
Her
husband’s affair pained Anne; all of his affairs did, as, having been his only
love in the seven years of their courtship, she had never gotten used to him
showing favor with another. It being Lent season, she could not even bed with
Henry, and thus, could not hope to conceive her son and savior for many weeks.
There was more bitter news yet with her most beloved lapdog Purkoy, who she was
known to fawn over, taking a fall from her window, and her mother becoming
deathly ill. 1536 was playing out like a tragedy for her, and the shifting
political sands worsened it. The death of Catherine opened up potential for a
Spanish alliance, and if Henry chose to swing in that way, he might then be of
mind to restore England to Roman Catholicism. Since his marriage to Anne was
invalid in the Vatican, their marriage would be null, and with Catherine dead
he would be free to remarry. But the condition was the restoration of Lady Mary,
and of course, cleaving to the Pope in all things once again and forfeiting his
supremacy. Henry was not in love with Jane to the point that he would leave
Anne for her; they were about the same age, anyway, and thus both equally
fertile, if you take that the queen birth-year as 1507.
We
can’t quite say that Anne had become politically useless because she was an
Englishwoman and Henry was looking to a foreign alliance with either the Empire
or France – Jane was an Englishwoman. However, what would have been her saving
grace, aside from a son, was a secure betrothal between Princess Elizabeth and
the French dauphin – yet, though the French had once been supported her, there
was a question mark by the legitimacy of the princess and nothing ever came of
the betrothals. Had a proxy marriage been secured, Elizabeth would have been
acknowledged as legitimate, and thus, Anne, as queen. Yet it was not to be.
By
April, the rift between Cromwell and Anne had become explosive. The rich Roman
Catholic monasteries destroyed, Cromwell willed that the moneys and jewels go
to the royal treasury – Anne disagreed. Heavily involved in charity and
education, from offering poor scholars patronage to donating huge sums of money
to impoverished families she had never even met, the queen stood in his way and
endless wealth by staunchly arguing that the greater sum of the acquired money
be focused on education for the poor. Years ago, Cromwell had been key to
securing divorce between Catherine and Henry, and he and Anne being inclined
toward the Reformation, she had always shown him favor. He had used this favor
and was the king’s most powerful adviser, as once Wolsey had been – and as
Wolsey and Anne had sparred, now history repeated itself. If history repeated
itself further, and Cromwell indefinitely was aware of the parallels, then he
could expect utter destruction, perhaps even execution, especially if Anne
borne an heir male and thus permanent security and favor. With that understood,
Cromwell saw that he had rid of Anne before she had a son and rid of him.
As
Cromwell had publicly shown support of Jane Seymour in giving his rooms up to
her, Anne now publicly declared herself his enemy; on 2nd April, she
endorsed the sermon of her loyal and hot-headed almoner, John Skip – Who will convict me of sin? Essentially,
it compared her to Esther, trying to save the king from his wicked adviser,
Haman (‘Cromwell’) and heartily preached against the use of money from the
monasteries for selfishness and personal gain. A month from that day she would
be arrested.
The
death of Catherine of Aragon some months ago was not to be her undoing. With
Catherine dead, should Henry wish to be rid of Anne, he could marry whoever he
wished, and that seemed to be Jane Seymour. She was very much the ‘right girl
for the right time’, as it had only been a couple of months since her
relationship with Henry heated up. There is some romantic legend, although the
truth of it is highly debatable, that the day after their wedding, a couple of
‘pretty women’ caught Henry’s eye and he claimed that had he met them before,
the marriage would have been delayed. At any rate, it seems that around now,
Cromwell shrewd and politically-astute took advantage of the strife and
coolness between king and queen, and favor shown to another woman, to convince
him that Anne should be ridden of. Some believe that the fall of Anne should be
blamed more on Henry, and they are right – no matter what we attribute to
Cromwell, he signed the death warrants. However, after three years of marriage
and ten years altogether of being with Anne, why should he so suddenly tire of
her tantrums and intemperance? It does not appear that anything snapped between
them; their relations were strained, true, since the miscarriage in January,
but they had been after her 1534 miscarriage and they were reconciled soon
enough. Nothing had snapped between Anne and Henry, but something had quite
obviously snapped between Cromwell
and Anne.
While
the anger that had for ten years translated so smoothly to passionate love, was
churning slowly to passionate hate as he fell more in love with Jane and was
perhaps coaxed along by a threatened Cromwell, under my speculation, the key
factor in Anne Boleyn’s destruction presents itself not as Henry but factional
and may be even foreign politics. After all, Cromwell was visiting privately
with Anne’s most absolutely declared foreign adversary, who had been and was
staunchly loyal to Catherine of Aragon and Lady Mary; this man was Ambassador
Chapuys, who referred to Anne in his chronicles as ‘the Concubine’. Thomas
Cromwell also visited with Nicholas Carew, a close friend to the Seymours who
bargained with him, promising that Jane would be his puppet if she was queen,
and he would order her to do whatever Cromwell said – something Anne Boleyn,
with her hothead and strong opinions, would never.
The fall of Anne Boleyn was brought
about so quickly that in her The Wives of
Henry VIII Antonia Fraser refers to construction of Anne’s crest being
ordered to decorate some castles, as late as sometime between late April and
early May. She was still referred to, in Henry VIII’s letter to foreign
ambassadors, as his most entirely beloved wife, with some hope for male heirs
expressed, on 25 April, exactly a week before her arrest. This is either a
testament to how little he knew about Cromwell’s plot (and thus how little he
had to do with it) or an act to make her trial more convincing – he could not
be seen as trying intentionally to be rid of her, as nearly ten years earlier,
he had to appear regretful that there was doubt to the legitimacy of his
marriage to Queen Catherine. We can never know, but I postulate the former. On
a side-note, it is a common misconception that Carew, instead of the queen’s
brother George Boleyn, being named Knight of the Garter on 23rd
April, 1536, was proof of Anne’s oncoming fall, and yet Eric Ives writes that a
deal had been struck the year before that Carew would have the Garter that
year, and thus, that this was not such a blow or public humiliation to the
queen. By that point, Anne not being in ‘hot water’ around April 23rd,
yet, is proof of the suddenness with which she fell.
Indeed, while this vengeance of a once
loyal supporter was exacted upon her quickly and suddenly, it is possible that
Anne was aware of her surroundings, however calm and lively she still appeared
outwardly. She accused a very close friend of both her and the king, Henry
Norris, of no longer courting Madge Shelton for her kinship with Anne, suggesting
that he was aware of the queen’s oncoming destruction and no longer wished to
connect himself with her. Anne proceeded to accuse Norris of being in love with
her, but the next day she apologized for picking the fight and implored him to
go to her almoner and swear she was a good woman – why, unless she was aware of
the adultery rumors that were set swirling, would she make this demand? Some of
these adultery rumors were perpetrated by the king himself, who, upon leaving
Anne for Greenwich, months ago, as she had recovered from her miscarriage,
swore that he had been transfixed by her witchcraft, and that she had engaged
in relations with a cabinet of lovers. This is evidence either for Henry playing
a lead role in the plot against his wife, or Cromwell’s manipulation of these
jealous fantasies.
Anne’s intuition is also visible in
her grave request on April 26th, 1536, to her chaplain, Matthew
Parker, a champion of reform and future Protestant Archbishop of Canterbury
under Elizabeth, to watch over her child and care for her spiritually should
anything befall the queen. She had some sense of the danger she was in and
wanted to protect her daughter in the event that she was not alive to.
On April 30th, under
dark means, Anne’s young musician Smeaton had confessed to adultery with her
and probably named other men, who included Henry Norris. On May Day, the king
and queen sat and watched the tournament, which his injuries from January
prevented him from participating in, and all seemed normal enough between them
– until, wordlessly, he took off and ordered Sir Norris, just finished jousting
against the queen’s brother George, to leave with him. Along the way, he begged
Norris, who had been among his best friends for nearly twenty years, to admit
to adultery and be spared. However, a loyal friend to Anne as well, he refused,
stating that his conscience would not allow him to lie and ruin a good and
innocent woman.
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