Anne Boleyn's Ghost

by Archer, Liam

  The Tower’s officials did not want a similar reaction during Anne Boleyn’s execution, so they rearranged it to take place later in the week, and at a different time of day.

  Anne tried to set her mind on things less gloomy as the fateful day neared. Peering through her chamber window, she watched the occasional bird fly freely through the air, and gazed at the full moon as it lit up a dense, dark night. She wrote poetry, and sang as she played her lute; and for fleeting seconds, it must have felt, Anne Boleyn infused the air with playful waves of music that traveled far into the lonely depths of the fortress, where surely her brother had been kept.

  Poem by Anne Boleyn

  Defiled is my name full sore,

  Through cruel spite and false report,

  That I may say for evermore,

  Farwell, my joy! Adieu comfort!

  For wrongfully ye judge of me,

  Unto my fame a mortal wound,

  Say what ye list, it will not be,

  Ye seek for that can not be found

  Anne Boleyn’s Lute

  On May 16th1536, the Archbidhop of Canterbury arrived at the Tower to provide Anne with absolution, and one other thing: his visit was in part arranged by Henry to have his marriage to Anne Boleyn annuled. He discussed with Anne what the King had asked of him, and a glimmer of hope glittered in the depths of her eyes – the King sought to annul their marriage, which would mean her sentence might not be carried out.

  That evening Anne had dinner with the Tower’s constable. She told him all about her meeting with the Archbishop, and the prospect she might be set free, if the Archbishop could prove her case. Kingston remained quiet throughout the dinner, feeling it not his place to weigh in on the sensitive subject, but listening all the while with open-ears and an amiable countenance as Anne spoke like someone who had just been given a new lease on life.

  Kingston had enjoyed Anne Boleyn’s company, ever since he had first met her at her coronation. But he beared the scars of his profession, and years within the Tower had taught him not to become attached to anyone outside its walls: so often they met their end here.

  With time running thin, Cranmer dispatched a letter to Henry, and another to Anne, asking them both to appear at his Ecclesiastical Court at Lambeth, to show some reason why the annulment should not be passed.

  Next day the Archbishop arrived a little late for the hearing, as his fellows sat waiting, ready to pass the annulment. In Henry’s mind, Anne was finished; and he wasn’t about to give her a chance to haunt his memory right before she died. He wanted her nowhere near him now, so he had appointed Dr. Sampson and Drs. Wotton to appear on their behalf.

  The Earl of Oxford and the Duke of Suffolk, as well as other members of the Court listened as Cranmer declared his judgment on the marriage, before providing them with the statement Anne gave him the day before. The Court considered his judgement before giving theirs, and they also agreed that the marriage should be annuled. But, crucially, they concluded that Anne and Henry had been legally married; so her punishment remained unchanged. It was sealed. Anne would be beheaded on the Tower green on May 19th 1536, at eight o’clock in the morning.

  *

  With one day to go preparations had taken place and everything was ready. A small scaffold had been built, and the famous headsman from Calais, Jean Rombaud, had arrived on time. He was commisioned by the King because Anne had requested for a skilled headsman, and to die by the sword rather than the axe.

  Darkness descended upon the Tower and the marching died down as the guards conducted their last exhibition drill. Later that night Anne called for the almoner to provide her with solace. The lone guard shifted once every hour. Each change echoed loudly as their hard-heeled boots tapped ruthlessly against the Tower’s stone, like the inexorable ticking of a clock.

  With the hours closing in, thoughts of those final moments went flooding through her mind –

  * * *

  Morning dawned, and the grey dismal day unveiled itself. Anne dressed in a loose, dark-grey gown of damask and a white coif and black headdress. Not surprisingly, she hadn’t slept the night before, having been apprehensive of the frightening day ahead of her and determined to live every last precious second of her life until she would have it no more.

  She asked an attendant to deliver a letter she had written to Kingston; it was a request for him to be with her in such time that she would receive the good Lord.

  Kingston respectfully heeded to her wish.

  The time of Anne’s execution had been changed that morning as further attempt to catch the public off-guard.

  When Kingston arrived at Anne’s chamber she said, ‘I hear I shall not die before noon, and I am very sorry therefore, for I thought I would be dead by this time and past my pain.’

  ‘There will be little pain,’ he said softly.

  Anne knew Kingston well enough by now that his long periods of silence did not unsettle her, and during those final days in the Tower she found it easy to be herself in his presence. ‘I heard say the executioner was very good, and I have a little neck,’ she said, putting her hands to it and laughing heartily.

  A small smile could just be discerned on Kingston’s deeply lined face.

  Anne made her final preparations. She set her eyes upon her reflection for the last time. And at eleven o’clock she followed Kingston through the halls, accompanied by no less than one hundred Yeoman Warders. As they passed the corridor windows, Anne glanced out at the grounds below; three thousand or more crowded men and women stood there.

  Once out in the cool, dewy air, the ash-grey sky above seemed to aggrandize her very presence. A light, misty rain was falling through the fog; the sensation of icy water carresing her awoke her soul. The odd raven flew blackly under the darkening sky, or perched high on the wall’s edge, surveying the mass that had gathered below.

  For how many people were within the Tower’s walls, the mood remained sombre; under it all, however, the public was yearning to see their captivating Queen one last time.

  Anne was led to the green, next to the White Tower. At once the crowd fell silent, as everyone turned magnetically towards her. She walked towards the four-foot high scaffold, which had been designed to minimize her exposure to the crowd, and, alone, stepped up on to the platform where the headsman stood.

  Looking like he hadn’t a care in the world, as Anne Boleyn approached the Frenchman, he found himself dumbfounded, and for a few seconds had completely forgotten why he was standing there, in front of so many people.

  She observed the executioner impassively, which seemed to bring him back to reality, before turning her eyes to the crowd, looking for familiar faces in the bundle of heads standing motionless before her. Almost all of the King’s Council was there, as well as numerous earls, lords, alderman, merchants, sheriffs, accomplised businessmen and artists. Anne’s father wasn’t there; perhaps he felt guilty for having ever made ties with the King, and was overcome with grief. Her uncle, the Duke, failed to show up. Anne felt relieved that his merciless eyes would not be one of the last things she gazed into. The Duke of Suffolk, who knew her personally, was present, and stood by the other nobles. Thomas Cromwell had, not suprisingly, come to watch the finale of his master plan. He lingered amongst the rest, trying hard not to catch Anne’s eye. The Lord Mayor of London, who felt strongly that the trials were of the King’s design, stood high among his fellows, beaming consolingly at Anne as she gazed admiringly back.

  The mist slowly began to transform into a gentle rain, becoming heavier and heavier with each solid second that passed. The sky darkened. Everything became still and shadowy. Rain falling hard against the tower’s stone, producing a steady rush and a rythmic rattle, as if the sky itself had decided to perform a drum roll. The headsman’s sword lay hidden from view; its presence no longer disguised as rain sounded off of the long blade. Anne said good-bye.

  Masters, I here humbly submit me to the law as the law hath judged me, as for my offences, I here accuse n
o man, God knoweth them; I remit them to God, beseeching him to have mercy on my soul, and I beseech Jesu save my soveriegn and master the King, the most godly, noble and gentle Prince that is, and long to reign over you.

  She removed her head dress, knelt down on both knees, looked up to the tearful sky and closed her eyes; water falling like heavan’s breath upon her.

  … Jesu Christ I commend my soul …

  The headsman lifted the sword from behind the straw; water ran from the blade in a small torrent. The movements of the sword seemed to resonate an unseen energy that Anne could feel distinctly, though her eyes were closed, as the headsman swung it to and fro in preparation. An ominous drone issued from it.

  Raising the sword with both arms, he swung and beheaded her with as much ease, she felt no greater than a rose.

  Her headless body fell, blooming a river of blood under the stormy sky. Her lips trembled … her eyes faded … her face turned white as snow.

  She was being carried on a wave, completely at its mercy. She was dead … she was dead – but she could see dark, transient forms of men and women standing in front of her. They began to move away from her. They were leaving.

  Cannon fire boomed and iron tore through the air over London, signaling to the King that it was all over. The crowd poured out of the Tower, making for the nearest pubs to get dry. The Tower’s officials had failed to prepare a suitable coffin for Anne Boleyn. Her body was disgracefully placed, curled up and on its side, into an empty arrow chest they had managed to find. Her ‘coffin’ was then taken to the Tower’s Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula, and buried within. It remains there to this day.

  Sightings of Anne’s Ghost

  Anne Boleyn’s Ghost is one of the most prolific ghosts in England. Below are just a handful of the numerous accounts that have taken place over the centuries of sightings of her Ghost. At times she has been witnessed by many; but, as is common with ghost sightings, it is almost always by the lone individual. Some of the accounts here have varying degrees of credibility, while others are much harder to dispute.

  At the Tower of London, in the chapel where Anne Boleyn is buried, there are accounts of her Ghost carrying her head under her arm whilst walking down the aisle and descending into her grave. Other areas of the Tower where Anne’s Ghost has been reported by members of the public and the Tower’s staff over the years are the Green, the White Tower, and the room she stayed in before her coronation and execution.

  In 1864 a sentry standing outside the ‘Queens House’ reported seeing a misty, white figure of a woman wearing a Tudor dress and a French hood. When he looked at the woman’s face, he saw nothing there. As the apparition started to move towards to him, he demanded to know who she was. The sentry then yelled at the headless woman, who had been steadily approaching him, to stop; and when she failed to comply he charged at her with his bayonet and passed clean through her misty form.

  At that exact same moment a burst of electricity moved along his rifle and up his arm, shocking him and knocking him out. He later found himself court martialed for falling asleep on duty. At his trial he described what he had seen.

  ‘It was a figure of a woman wearing a queer looking bonnet, but there wasn’t no head inside the bonnet.’

  When eyewitnesses came to his defense, saying that they had also seen a headless woman that night, and a guard from inside the Bloody Tower recalled the whole bizzare enounter, which he saw unfold from a second-story window, the charges were immediately dropped.

  Towards the end of the nineteenth century, on a quiet night inside the Tower, a captain of the Guard witnessed a strong, fiery light coming from inside the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula.

  He tried to enter, but the door was locked.

  When he returned with a ladder and peered through a window, so as to see who was inside, he claimed to have seen something very peculiar indeed …

  ‘Slowely down the aisle moved a statley procession of Knights and Ladies, attired in ancient costumes; and in front walked an elegant female whose face was averted to him, but whose figure greatly resembled the one in reputed portraits of Anne Boleyn. After having repeatedly paced the chapel, the entire procession, together with the light, dissapeared.’ (excerpt from Ghostly Visitors by ‘Spectre Stricken’, London 1882.)

  At Blickling Hall in Norfolk, on the day when Anne was executed, every year a carriage being pulled by six headless horses and a headless coachman can be seen approaching the Hall. A woman, who sits inside the carriage dressed in white, holds her head in her lap. Once there, the horses and coach disappear, and the headless woman, who then enters the Hall, wanders there til sunrise.

  At Marwell Hall, legend holds that this was the place where Henry stayed with Jane Seymore during Anne’s execution. It is said that a chain of beacons were lit to signal the death of Anne Boleyn – with the last beacon being near here and in clear view from the Hall.

  Anne’s Ghost has been seen on the yew tree walk.

  At Windsor Castle, Anne’s Ghost has been seen standing at a window in Dean’s Cloister. The ghosts of Henry the Eighth and Elizabeth the First have been seen here on separate occasions. The castle is a hub of paranormal phenomena, and countless ghosts of historical figures have been witnessed here. The Ghost of Elizabeth the First is the most frequently seen ghost in the castle, and has been witnessed in the Royal Library on several occasions.

  At Anne Boleyn’s lifelong home, Hever Castle, her Ghost can be seen every Christmas Eve crossing the old drawbridge. Her Ghost has also been seen beneath the great oak tree, where Henry may have asked her to marry him.

  At Hampton Court, Anne’s Ghost has been seen wearing a blue dress. Could it be the same dress she’s wearing in the photograph, which was taken at Hever Castle? The account of the sighting here was described as a sombre and slow moving apparition.

  Table of Contents

  ANNE BOLEYN’S GHOST

  Contents

  Introduction

  The Visit to Hever Castle

  In the Darkroom

  The Photographs

  The Difference between the Camera and the Eye

  Anne’s Story

  How it Began

  The Break from Rome

  The Coronation

  Elizabeth Arrives

  The King’s Will

  Untimely Mishap

  Devising a Plan

  Losing Her Freedom

  The Accused are Heard

  Final Days

  Sightings of Anne’s Ghost