George Boleyn: Tudor Poet, Courtier & Diplomat

by Ridgway, Claire

  It is easy to use Jane as a scapegoat, but just as the Boleyn siblings should be given the benefit of the doubt due to the lack of evidence for the charges against them, so the same courtesy should be extended to Jane.

  23 - Execution

  George Boleyn and the other four men were publicly executed on the scaffold on Tower Hill on 17 May 1536. Royal "mercy" had commuted all five sentences to beheading, even the lowly Mark Smeaton. The five men were brought together within the confines of the Tower in the early morning. This would have been the first time George had seen a friendly face since his arrest, and it would have been a poignant meeting of old friends, joined together in the most extreme adversity. They were brought out of the Tower and, as the scaffold on Tower Hill was at some distance from the Tower, they would have been forced to walk through a potentially hostile crowd. Henry had been so convinced that the public spectators would be gratified by the deaths of these traitors that he had ordered the scaffold to be built especially high so as to give everyone in the crowd a good view. No doubt he had expected them to be booed, hissed and spat at, especially his brother-in-law the allegedly incestuous pervert. The potential for abuse, vilification and humiliation was great. But Henry had not banked on the English people's sense of fair play, and if he had expected the prisoners to be given a hard time, he was to be disappointed. For George's speech to have been recorded in as much detail as it was, the crowd must have been virtually silent during the men's speeches and their executions. There could have been little or no booing and jeering of the condemned men as with other state executions. These men, particularly George Boleyn and Henry Norris, were respected courtiers, and their deaths were largely viewed with sadness at their wasted lives. Many in the vast crowd believed them to be innocent, and their deaths caused general disgust, particularly following the marriage of Henry VIII to Jane Seymour less than two weeks later. In fact, pamphlets regarding the new royal romance had already been published and circulated, and had caused "great derision" against Henry and Jane; the people's sympathy must surely have been with these men.1

  The first execution was that of George, Lord Rochford, the highest in rank. This meant that those who died after him had the horror of witnessing the deaths of their friends and fellow prisoners, knowing that they would be next. When George died, the other men knew there could be no hope of a late pardon. Sir Henry Norris was the second to be executed and said virtually nothing on the scaffold: perhaps out of shock; perhaps because he felt there was no longer anything to say; or simply because he felt George Boleyn had said it all for him. Lancelot de Carles confirms that the other four also said very little, "as if they had commissioned Rochford to speak for them". Francis Weston was next, and is reported to have said, "I thought to have lived in abomination yet this twenty or thirty years and then to have made amends. I had little thought it would come to this." William Brereton came the closest to denying his guilt when he said, "I have deserved to die if it were a thousand deaths. But the cause whereof I die, judge not. But if ye judge, judge the best." Mark Smeaton did not withdraw his confession, simply saying, "Masters I pray you all pray for me for I have deserved the death." By the time Smeaton was put to death, the scaffold must have been awash with blood, and the poor boy apparently stumbled as he approached the block before pulling himself together.

  George had gone from palace to prison to execution within 15 days, and it is a testament to his courage and strength of character that he was able to defend himself so well at his trial and give such an impassioned speech on the scaffold, when lesser men would still have been in shock. He made a long penitent speech, which found admiration with the vast crowd gathered to witness the executions. There are a number of different versions of George's speech, but they all agree on the basic content. Only Chapuys has George confessing that he deserved death for "having so contaminated and so contaminating others with the new sects", and praying everyone to abandon such heresies. That is clearly not what he said, and is more a matter of wishful thinking by Chapuys.2 After stepping on to the scaffold, George addressed the crowd:

  I was born under the law, and I die under the law, for as much as it is the law which has condemned me.

  According to two eyewitnesses, he said this three times, almost as if he were collecting his thoughts before continuing. But there was another reason. To say he died "under the law", rather than admitting his guilt, was the closest he dared go to declaring his innocence. Therefore, he ensured the point was reiterated to the vast crowd of spectators, many of whom knew him personally. He went on to say that he was not there to preach a sermon but to die. He told the vast crowd that he deserved death because he was a wretched sinner who had grievously and often offended. He did not relate his sins, telling the crowd that they would derive no pleasure from hearing them, and that he would derive no pleasure from stating them. He merely said that God knew them all. He warned everyone present to use him as an example, especially his fellow courtiers. He warned them "not to trust in the vanity of the world, and especially in the flatterings of the Court, and the favour and treacheries of Fortune", which he said raised men up only to "dash them again upon the ground". He blamed fortune for his current pitiful condition - or rather, he blamed himself, saying he had leaned too heavily on fortune, "who hath proved herself fickle and false unto me". He said he prayed for the mercy of God, and that he forgave all men. He begged forgiveness of God and of anyone he might have offended. He begged those present to ask anyone not there to forgive him if he had offended them, and he told them that "having lived the life of a sinner, I would fain die a Christian man."3

  There has been much speculation in the latter part of the twentieth and the early years of the twenty-first century about what it was to which George Boleyn was referring to when he said he was a wretched sinner who deserved death, but refused to name his sins. The condemned had their families to protect, and no protestations of innocence would have been acceptable to the Crown. Besides, it was the honourable thing to accept that death was deserved. The Christian doctrine was that we are all sinners deserving of death because of original sin. The shame and dishonour George says he dies for is clearly the incest conviction ("with worse shame and dishonour than hath ever been heard of before"), but at no point in the speech does he make an admission of the offence of which he had been found guilty.

  Though one of the sins he refers to, but does not mention, is suggested to be sodomy, there is no evidence for this. George Cavendish suggests that George was referring to promiscuity. This may have been partly true, but the behaviour for which he apologises could refer to an amalgamation of supposed sins. Although George did not ask for the King's forgiveness, he did ask forgiveness of anyone whom he might have offended. Indeed, he went further than this and virtually begged for forgiveness. As a Christian man about to face death, he would have been acutely aware of his flaws and faults. He was proud, and totally lacked humility. He was typically ruthless and self-seeking for a man of the age. He sat at the trial of Thomas More and was present at the appalling executions of the Carthusian monks, despite his protestations of being a "Christian man". He showed no sympathy or compassion towards Catherine of Aragon or her daughter Mary. We do not know how he treated his wife, but his reputation as a high-living womaniser would support the notion that he was not ideal husband material. He had even turned his back on his sister Mary in her hour of need. When facing death, George Boleyn, a highly intelligent and religious man, would have been painfully aware of these failings. Hence his speech went above and beyond that which was expected of him.

  He admitted he had relied too heavily on fortune and trusted too much in the vanity of the world and the flattery of the court. His positions of favour and power had resulted in sycophantic flattery by friends and enemies alike, and he had swallowed it whole. He had waltzed around the court with an air of arrogance in the certainty of his position, and because of his confidence in himself and the respect in which he was held. Yet those same people who had fawne
d over him were here now, watching him die. It was all false, and only at the very end did he realise this.

  In his speech he went on to highlight his religious convictions, as previously quoted in the chapter on religion, before finishing by praying "God save the King". Knowing the sort of irreverence to which George Boleyn was prone, this last sentence could be read with a great deal of irony; but whatever was happening to him, his upbringing would never have allowed him to think ill of the King. As far as George was concerned, this was his own fault.

  Following his speech, he calmly and courageously knelt down, placed his head on the block, and submitted his neck to the axe. His head was removed with a single stroke, and his severed head was held up to the crowd as the executioner intoned the words, "So ends the lives of all the King's enemies." George Boleyn had many faults, but treason had never been one of them, and Henry must have known that. None of the men's heads were put on display on spikes, as was usual with convicted traitors; this would surely have been the case if Henry seriously thought they were guilty, just as Thomas Culpeper's would be five years later. It was the only small consideration that Henry showed his innocent friends. George's body and head were taken to the Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula within the Tower, where his sister would join him two days later. The other men were buried in two graves, two men in each, in the chapel graveyard.

  It is unlikely, as Chapuys alleges, that Anne was forced to watch the executions of her brother and friends, but she may have seen the men congregated together before they were marched out of the Tower - perhaps allowing her one last look at her beloved brother. One man who did witness the executions was Thomas Wyatt, who was imprisoned in the Tower still and who wrote about them in verse, illustrating the danger of being too close to the throne:

  These bloody days have broken my heart.

  My lust, my youth did them depart,

  And blind desire of estate.

  Who hastes to climb seeks to revert.

  Of truth, circa Regna tonat.

  The Bell Tower showed me such a sight

  That in my head sticks day and night.

  There did I learn out of a grate,

  For all favour, glory, or might,

  That yet, circa Regna tonat.

  In a way this verse reiterates the words of George Boleyn on the scaffold, when he warned his listeners not to trust the vanities of the world and the flattery of the court. His "blind desire of estate" and his "haste to climb" had led him to this end. This was certainly the passage of his speech that was specifically remembered by most of those present, particularly courtiers. On 18 September 1536, John Husee had cause to write to Lady Lisle, "but now I remember my Lord of Rochford's words, who exhorted every man to beware of the flattering of the court."4 There was many a young courtier who heard those words with trepidation.

  Although open mourning for the victims of the May executions would have been a dangerous pastime, there were those who were prepared to pour out their sadness in writing. Wyatt's later poem, "In Mourning Wise since Daily I Increase", was written to honour the five men, and implied that he considered them to be innocent. He suggests that only Smeaton deserved to die - "Since that thy death thou hast deserved best" - presumably due to his false confession.5

  Anne Boleyn was executed two days after her brother. On the day after her trial, after a visit from Archbishop Cranmer, she had been in hope of life and had spoken of being sent to a nunnery.6 This suggests that Anne may have been offered some kind of deal by Cranmer in exchange for her agreement to the annulment of her marriage to Henry VIII. By 18 May, the day after her brothers execution, her mood had changed, however. Kingston wrote to Cromwell, "I have seen many men and women executed and at they have been in great sorrow, and to my knowledge this lady has much joy and pleasure in death."7 Anne knew that she was going to die and she was ready.

  Before she was executed, Anne was put through one final humiliation. Her marriage to Henry VIII was pronounced void, just as Catherine's had been, and again it was Thomas Cranmer who made the pronouncement. It was made void, "because of certain just, true and lawful impediments unknown at the making". The Earl of Northumberland had already been contacted regarding a possible consummated marriage contract between him and Anne in order to use this as the basis for divorce. If Anne was pre-contracted to Henry Percy, and if it had been consummated, then she would not have been free to marry the King, and the marriage could reasonably be held void. The Earl denied that there had been any consummated pre-contract between him and Anne, and reiterated that he had made the same denials in 1532, prior to Anne's marriage with the King.

  The grounds for the annulment are not made clear, but were probably because of Henry's earlier affair with Anne's sister Mary. In other words, Henry's marriage to Anne was null and void because he had previously had intercourse with her sister, thus causing an impediment of affinity. Once again, by having the marriage declared void, Henry was again condemning a daughter (this time Elizabeth) to illegitimacy. By doing so, Henry no longer had any legitimate children. It does not appear to have been considered that if he had never been married to Anne, she could hardly have been guilty of adultery.8

  Anne was executed within the confines of the Tower and, unlike her brother, had the dignity of a private execution. On the scaffold, Anne showed the courage and composure of a true queen. According to an eyewitness she looked "much amazed and exhausted", but she managed to address the crowd, echoing George's comments from two days earlier:

  Good Christian people, I have not come here to preach a sermon; I have come here to die. For according to the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak of that whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the King and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never, and to me he was ever a good, a gentle, and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me.9

  She was executed by a single stroke of a sword wielded by the "Sword of Calais", the executioner who had been summoned from Calais prior to her trial and conviction. Her body and head were put in an old elm chest, which had once contained bow staves, and she was buried in the Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, close to the resting place of her brother.

  The beginning of her speech, and the general undercurrent of her words, was so similar to that of George's that she must have been told what he had said. The manner of the address, and the overall meaning behind the words, are too similar for this to be purely coincidental, even taking into account the conventions of the sixteenth century. The fact that she chose to reiterate his comments emphasises as nothing else the bond between brother and sister, even at the very end.

  It is difficult for us today to understand why people who are so obviously innocent do not reaffirm their innocence on the scaffold. Sixteenth century values and conventions are poles apart from our own. George's speech reiterated what he had said at his trial: that the verdict proved he deserved death. He explained that he died under the law, because it was the law that had condemned him. The law was the word of God, and God had decided he must die. He must, therefore, be a wicked and perverse sinner deserving of death, even though he happened to be innocent of the crimes alleged against him. To question your conviction would be to say the law had got it wrong and that God had got it wrong, and that of course was impossible. Furthermore, it was not the honourable thing to do, and therefore certainly something George Boleyn would never do. Some years later, even the pure and virtuous Lady Jane Grey went to her death on the scaffold saying she deserved to die.

  The death of the Boleyns was a sordid affair from which no one involved emerged with a modicum of credit or integrity. The tragedy of 1536 will forever haunt the reign of Henry VIII. It is not for his great kingship that he is remembered. Most people today remember him as a tyrant who exec
uted two of his wives and many of his associates and friends. His reputation will always be tarnished by his cruel and brutal actions, and his memorial will remain that of a tyrant and bully, despite the fact that he achieved so much. During the trial of Anne and George, and at their subsequent executions, they were the only people involved who showed courage and dignity. Even Cromwell, in a conversation with Chapuys on 24 May, "greatly praised the sense, wit and courage of the Concubine and of her brother."10 In the world of men like Cromwell and Henry VIII, sense, wit and courage were not enough to save the siblings. In fact, they were the very attributes that ensured George Boleyn's death.

  24 - Aftermath

  On 20 May 1536, the day after Anne Boleyn's execution, Henry VIII was betrothed to Jane Seymour, marrying her on 30 May. The image of Jane as a sweet, gentle young woman is rather tarnished by the thought of her preparing for her marriage in the knowledge that her predecessor and five innocent men were in the Tower awaiting death. The King had told her on the morning of Anne's trial that he would send news to her later "of the condemnation of the putain."1 Without a doubt, she knew they were not guilty. Having been one of Anne's ladies-in-waiting she would have known the accusations could not possibly be true.