by G Lawrence
Henry’s reaction to Cromwell’s accusations stemmed, I think, from jealousy and hurt. Cromwell told him she had been unfaithful, and Henry, in rage and anger, accepted it, turning with murderous fire upon her and the men accused with her.
It may be that Henry quickly realised he was being played, and went along with it because he knew that killing Anne would get him all he wanted. Until Cromwell granted Henry the means to be rid of his wife, he was thinking of keeping her. When granted an excuse, he took it.
This is my belief. You may hold a different one. That is your right.
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There are a lot of ghost stories about Anne Boleyn, and Anne, as a phantom, is apparently very busy. She has been seen at Hever Castle, The Tower of London, Blickling Hall, Windsor Castle, Bollin Hall, on a barge on the River Thames, at Marwell Hall, Hampton Court, and Durham House. She is said to have even visited what is now a shoe shop in Wisbech. Perhaps, seeing as she was a true and dedicated follower of fashion in life, she decided to continue this in death.
Anne is often described as wearing grey. She sometimes talks to those who see her, and sometimes simply walks on by, or is seen reading.
Her father, too, has stories about his ghost, and supposedly drives a coach along the country roads to Blickling Hall up to the gates, where it vanishes. There is a legend he is doomed to repeat this each year, in payment for abandoning his children. Another story has him appearing with his head under his arm. Unfortunately for these legends, carriages only came into use in Elizabeth’s reign, and Thomas Boleyn died in his bed rather than by beheading, but then, ghosts do not have to follow the same rules as mortals.
In Elizabeth’s reign, Anne’s tomb was investigated, and the remains of the Duke of Northumberland, Catherine Howard, Anne Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey, Jane Rochford, Lord Sudeley, and George Boleyn were found. Queen Victoria agreed to another investigation on the condition that any remains were treated with respect. One lot of bones (those resting beneath the chapel floor had been disturbed as others were buried there) was thought to be those of Anne Boleyn, based on the fact they were slender and the skull had “an intellectual forehead” with hands that had tapering fingers. There is some doubt about the identification, as Anne’s remains may have become confused with those of Catherine Howard.
Each year, on the anniversary of her death, roses arrive at the Tower of London, to be placed upon her grave. Roses were a part of Anne Boleyn’s arms of the crowned falcon sitting on a stump surrounded by roses, and it is likely the sender knew this. They are sent on the request of an anonymous benefactor, who left instructions for this honour to a board of trustees. They come with a card which says: Queen Anne Boleyn, 1536. The Yeomen place the flowers on her tomb, and take them away only when they have withered.
No one knows who set this order up. Whoever it was, was I suspect, a person like me who read of Anne and decided she deserved more honour in death than she was granted in life.
These books are my roses. My way of honouring Queen Anne Boleyn.
The Aftermath
The day after Anne died, Henry had Jane Seymour brought to him at Hampton Court. There, they were formally betrothed. Ten days after the execution of his second wife, they were married.
Although she died in 1536, Anne’s memory lived on, despite the very best efforts of her husband. Upon Anne’s death, Henry purged his palaces of every picture, portrait, item of jewellery, dress and all her embroidery work. Stained glass bearing the saint whose name she shared was taken down. Anne’s badge of the leopard was adapted to become Jane’s of the panther. Henry obliterated Anne’s initials entwined with his, leaving only a very few, at Hampton Court and other palaces, which he missed, and they survive to this day. Although the portraits we have of Anne are not contemporary, there is a medal of her which is.
A few other traces remained. Henry kept a bed which featured his arms and Anne’s, along with a set of bed hangings; the ‘Greenwich bed’, as it is known. I can’t imagine Jane Seymour felt very secure getting into bed surrounded by the arms and monograms of the woman she had helped displace.
Henry remained an active man, despite his failing health. He became bald, and his eyes became lost in his face as his weight overtook him. The strains of the past years had taken their toll on his body, but also on his character. He became secretive, suspicious, and dangerously changeable. This is understandable. We don’t know if Henry was truly convinced that Anne and the men accused with her had actually betrayed him, but there is the possibility he allowed himself to be persuaded. If he thought they had betrayed him that meant there were few he could trust. If he knew they were innocent that meant he could not trust the people advising him. Either way, it is not surprising he became so suspicious.
Whether he believed in their guilt or not, by 1536 he had executed many of his close friends, and a woman he loved. It is common practise to put the changes in his behaviour down to the jousting accident he had in 1536, or other head injuries (more in jousting, and one when he tried to vault a stream and ended up with his head stuck in the mud) he suffered, but the strain of sending basically every friend he had to death must also have had some psychological effects.
Whether or not Henry was impotent is debatable. During his time with Katherine, she became pregnant many times, and Anne conceived three or four times during their union. But it is probable, given Anne’s fatal words that he lacked virility and strength, that he had some form of sexual dysfunction. This is hardly surprising. The stress that he was under for much of the time, coupled with his growing weight problems, could have led to partial impotence, perhaps caused by emotional as well as physical problems. Clearly, if it existed, it was also intermittent.
Henry’s reputation, which he took so much care to uphold, was ruined by 1537. He was known as a lecher, and tales that he took some women by force were also common knowledge. No more would Henry be the good, chaste and virtuous knight. He became a tyrant, ruling England with an iron will.
Henry went into a steady decline in health. His legs were terrible to behold. The ulcer or abbess that formed in January 1536 never healed. It would seal over, causing terrible pain and discomfort, then burst, leeching out foul smelling pus and blood. The wound caused him constant agony. It is no wonder he became changeable, for constant pain and suffering would have not helped that famous Tudor temper at all. The rumour that Henry had syphilis is false. He was never treated with mercury, the ‘cure or kill’ method used on syphilis, and neither his children nor wives showed any signs of the disease.
When Jane died, Henry declared himself distraught, but despite this, marriage negotiations began almost immediately. Henry was turned down by Christine of Milan, but there were others, such as unsubstantiated rumours he once intended to marry Mary Shelton. Henry also became interested in five French princesses, and, unable to choose between them, asked that they be shipped to Calais so he might inspect them. François was insulted by this, and told Henry quite bluntly that it was not French custom to send royal woman to be inspected as though they were horses at a market.
Henry, by this time, seems to have only wanted to marry a partner he had seen, something his daughter, Elizabeth, would also insist upon during her many dalliances with the wedded state. Although this is odd, seeing as most kings and queens only met their future partner when they were already married by proxy and could not escape the match, for Henry it is less so. No matter how delusional his heart, Henry was a romantic. He wanted to marry for love.
This aim would be frustrated time and time again: Anne of Cleves either did not measure up to his desires, or saw through his web of fabrication; Catherine Howard turned out to be a woman with a past he could not accept, and Katherine Parr, although he might have convinced himself that she loved him, loved Thomas Seymour. Henry’s quest for a woman who combined the best elements of Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour, would prove fruitless.
The truth was no woman could live up to the ideal he desired.
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nbsp; Those who had truly loved him were dead. Those who were left feared him. For a man who had always been desperate to be loved, as I think Henry was, this was the worst fate. A part of me believes this was no less than he deserved.
Henry VIII died in 1547, eleven years after Anne. He left behind his son, Edward, as well as his two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, who were restored to the succession. Henry had done much that was remarkable, and is remembered to this day not only for his marital career, but for his break with Rome, and suppression of the monasteries.
The Wives of Henry VIII
Henry took many remarkable women and made them his wives. Katherine of Aragon was a courageous, upstanding woman who did not deserve to be locked away in a castle for the rest of her life, or separated from her only daughter. Anne Boleyn was an extraordinary, almost modern woman, living in Tudor times, who displayed a myriad of virtues and vices, ending her life as one of the most infamous women in history, but she too did not deserve her fate, nor subsequent reputation.
Jane Seymour is hard to pin-point in character, but she must have had some determination to step into Anne’s place. Jane splits opinion, with some seeing her as an innocent, perhaps naïve, woman thrown at Henry by powerful relations, who had little choice in the matter, and others who theorise she may well have been a great deal more cunning, ruthless and spirited than is thought, but managed, as Anne never could, to hide her intelligence under a mask of subservience and obedience. These are two very different personalities, and it is hard to know which option is the truth, since little is known of Jane’s early life, and she did not survive long as Queen. It may be the truth is somewhere in between.
There is something in me that pities Jane Seymour, especially after her wedding. Jane had no easy time with Henry. Only a week after his marriage to Jane, Henry was heard to say that he had noted two or three beautiful ladies at court. He sighed and said he was “sorry he had not seen them before he was married.” Jane was insecure on her throne, and was not crowned, as Anne and Katherine were before her. Hearing comments like this could hardly have made her feel happy, and indeed, would have been chilling. Henry saw his partners as disposable now, and Jane was well aware of that.
Jane tried to be all that Henry wanted. She was meek, mild, ductile and malleable. Her motto, fittingly, was “Bound to Obey and Serve” and she tried to live up to it. But from the very start, she was in a perilous position. Her family were even lower on the slippery Tudor social scale than Anne’s, so she would not have been hard to get rid of, and her efforts in the political arena were dismissed by Henry. The only success she had was in the domestic sphere, the only place Henry would allow her a little power. Jane managed to engineer Lady Mary’s return to court, and showed great honour to her. Jane all but ignored Elizabeth, who was kept at Hatfield, but this should not be surprising. Jane was unlikely to be able to look at Anne’s tiny daughter without guilt.
The only time Jane was secure was when she found she was with child, but even this ended in tragedy when she died. Rumours that Prince Edward was born by caesarean section are false. Although this procedure was not unknown, it was only done in extremis, when the mother was already dead, or was certain to die. It also caused almost immediate death for the mother, and Jane lived for ten days after Edward was born. It is most likely that she succumbed to puerperal fever, known at the time as childbed fever, brought on by poor hygiene. Jane’s moment of glory was therefore also her downfall.
She died on the 24th of October 1537 and was buried at St George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle. She was the only one of Henry’s wives to receive a queen’s funeral. An inscription above her tomb reads,
Here lieth a Phoenix, by whose death
Another Phoenix life gave breath
It is to be lamented much
The world ne’er knew two such.
Her son became the short-lived Edward VI of England. When Henry died in 1547, he was buried with Jane at his request. He claimed she was the love of his life, and his one, true Queen. Since he wasn’t always very nice to her whilst she lived, I think this declaration has more to do with Henry’s world of abiding and ridiculous fantasy, in which he dwelled for the rest of his life.
Anne of Cleves, who I often feel is the most underestimated of Henry’s wives, showed great political survival skills and pragmatism, ending up as his most fortunate wife in many ways. She secured a generous annulment settlement, outlived him and died in Mary’s reign. In accepting the separation Henry offered, Anne became his ‘sister’ and a rich woman. She is often overlooked, discredited because of the short period of her marriage, and the fact she was apparently not good looking, but there are other virtues than beauty.
Henry may in fact have been more upset that, at their first meeting, when he presented himself to her in disguise, she failed to recognise him as the King. What Henry did not realise was by this point he was no oil portrait himself. So, in coming to her in disguise, thinking she would immediately know he was the King, he deluded himself. He was fat, bald, aged, his leg ulcer was rotten and pungent and he apparently had bad breath, so he was not an attractive proposition. Immediately after that first meeting, he began to complain he didn’t like her. It is far more likely he didn’t like the truth he saw in her eyes; that he was no more the romantic young knight he had once been.
Anne was a clever woman. She submitted to Henry’s wishes and profited from her sheer guile and pragmatism. She did the best of all his queens and was the only one buried in Westminster Abbey.
Anne was succeeded by the unfortunate Catherine Howard, another of Norfolk’s nieces, who was executed in 1542 for adultery. Catherine was accused of adultery with Thomas Culpeper, and of engaging in pre-marital sexual intercourse with Francis Dereham, as well as promising to marry him before her marriage. Whether or not Catherine committed adultery is unknown, but it appears she was sexually active before her marriage, something Henry, who called this young girl his Rose without a Thorn, could not cope with. Whether or not her sexual activity was consensual or not, is another question.
During her confessions after her arrest, Catherine told her accusers she had been repeatedly molested by her music teacher, Henry Mannox, when she was a child of thirteen, then living in her grandmother’s house at Horsham. Both she and Mannox (who gave evidence against her) said that actual sex, or more accurately, rape, had not taken place.
When Catherine was fifteen, she was sent to another of her grandmother’s houses in Lambeth, and there met Francis Dereham. Catherine claimed that Dereham raped her, and denied there was a pre-contract of marriage between them. Dereham claimed they had agreed to marry, and on the basis of that had become lovers. It is not impossible, even if she was raped by Dereham that Catherine might have agreed to marry him. It was standard for the Tudor age, and for some cultures now, that if a woman is raped, the method used to remove the stain of that assault is to marry her to her rapist. The fact that this condemns a woman to a life with her attacker is apparently less important than making the accusation of rape disappear, rendered dissolved, apparently, by making a predator and his victim into man and wife. If Catherine agreed to marry Dereham, she may well have simply been playing into this myth, seeking to remove the stain on her character, since survivors of abuse were (and sadly still are) often held responsible for the actions of their attackers. If Dereham and Catherine exchanged vows and consummated their promises with sexual intercourse, consentual or not, this would have constituted a pre-contract, rendering Henry and Catherine’s marriage invalid.
But adultery and pre-marital sex still did not offer Henry a reason to kill her.
This was swiftly solved. Henry and his Parliament passed an Act called The Royal Assent by Commission Act, in 1542, which authorised Catherine’s execution on the grounds of adultery. This Act made it treason for a queen consort to fail to disclose her sexual history to the King, and also to incite someone to commit adultery with her. This Act was only repealed by the British Government in 1967, and in the R
epublic of Ireland in 2007.
If her confessions were true, Catherine was a child who had been sexually abused by her music teacher, and then raped by Francis Dereham. If she did commit adultery with Culpeper, it is possible this was a reaction to her experience of abuse. Some people who endure abuse come to fear and hate the act of sex, and shy from it. Others develop a different response, sometimes becoming sexually aggressive or promiscuous in future relationships; if they can control the act of sex, they can control the fear they feel of it.