In January 1536, this transformation was only just beginning, and the King's self-esteem was such that he regarded himself as the epitome of masculine charm, beauty and virility. He would have been shocked to learn that that virility was shortly to be publicly called into question.
11
Shall I Die Without Justice?
On the day of Queen Katherine's funeral, Chapuys noticed Henry paying marked attention to 'Mrs Semel [sic]' and giving her 'very large presents'. During the afternoon, the Queen caught her husband with Jane on his knee, and flew into a frenzy, according to the account given years later by the English Duchess of Feria, who learned of the episode from her mistress Mary Tudor, who, in turn, probably learned of it from Jane Seymour herself. Henry, seeing his wife hysterical and fearing for their child, sent Jane out of the room and hastened to placate Anne. 'Peace be, sweetheart, and all shall go well with thee,' he soothed.
But the damage had been done. That evening, Anne aborted a foetus of about fifteen weeks' growth that had all the appearance of a male. 'She has miscarried of her saviour,' wrote Chapuys. The King in disappointment and sorrow commented, 'I see that God will not give me male children.' In a cold and unforgiving mood he stalked into the Queen's bedchamber, where Anne was sobbing fearfully, and complained about 'the loss of his boy' with many harsh words. Anne burst out that the fault lay with him, because he had been unkind to her, at which Henry flung back that she 'should have no more boys by him'. Seeing him so implacable, Anne forgot all caution, and cried desperately that he had no one to blame but himself for this disappointment, which had been caused by her distress of mind about 'that wench, Jane Seymour'. Breaking down again, she told him, 'Because the love I bear you is so much greater than Katherine's, my heart broke when I saw you loved others.' But she had gone too far. 'I will speak with you when you are well,' said Henry icily, and walked out of the room.
When he had gone, Anne bravely told her ladies it was all for the best: 'I shall be the sooner with child again, and the son I bear will not be doubtful like this one, which was conceived during the life of the Princess Dowager.' Yet she was being over-optimistic, for when Henry had closed the door of her room behind him, he had also closed the door on his second marriage.
There was great speculation at court as to what had caused the Queen's miscarriage. Anne herself blamed Norfolk, claiming the mishap was due to the shock she received when he told her of the King's fall from his horse. Some thought it the result of a defect in her constitution, while others, more perceptive, guessed it had been caused by fear that Henry would treat her as he had Katherine. Chapuys thought this 'not unlikely, considering his behaviour towards a damsel of the court, called Miss Seymour'; Anne's ladies knew that she was temperamentally incapable of ignoring this, as Katherine would have done.
The real reason for the miscarriage may have been that Anne was one of the small minority of people who are rhesus negative and who, during a first pregnancy which results in a healthy child, may produce in the bloodstream a substance called agglutinogen, which destroys rhesus-positive red cells in any subsequent foetus, usually with fatal results. Such a condition was of course unknown in the sixteenth century - it was not identified until 1940 - and could well account for Anne's three miscarriages after the birth of Elizabeth. If so, then she would never have borne another living child.
Cromwell had a secret interview with Chapuys on the evening of 29 January. He was anxious to promote an alliance between England and the Empire, but realised that Anne was a stumbling-block to it. However, he saw the ambassador as a necessary ally in his plan, and was eager to confide in him that the King had just said to him that he had made this marriage seduced by her witchcraft, and for that reason he considered it null and void, and that this was evident because God did not permit them to have male issue, and that he believed he might take another wife.
'This is incredible!' wrote Chapuys to his master, adding that the Queen had already repented of her hasty words and was 'in great fear'.
Anne's chief concern was that Henry would divorce her, believing this was the worst he could do. But the truth was that Henry did not want any more protracted legal proceedings to end yet another marriage, nor any more disputes about the succession. There had to be another way of removing the Queen. That Henry was accusing Anne of witchcraft, then a capital crime, as early as January 1536, suggests that even then he was probably contemplating her death. Anne's enemies had always made political capital out of her extra fingernail and the moles on her body, calling them devil's teats, and the people of England had long believed her guilty of using the black arts to seduce the King. Yet there was, apart from that, no other evidence, and Henry seems to have abandoned the idea of accusing Anne of witchcraft almost as soon as he had conceived it. However, the seed had been sown, both in his mind and in Cromwell's, and - had Anne but known it - her life was already in danger.
In early February, the estrangement between the royal couple was common knowledge, and speculation was rife. Chapuys thought Jane would make an excellent Queen of England; she was known to have imperialist sympathies, and had openly expressed her support for the Lady Mary. With Jane as queen, there was every hope that Mary might be restored to her former position and to the succession. This was what the ambassador had been told to work towards, and now he saw his chance. He was not without influence or friends at court, and he knew a great many people who secretly supported Mary and who would have been gratified to see the downfall of the Queen. Chapuys now made it his business to form a faction with them and to cultivate a friendship with the ambitious Seymour brothers, who were advising their equally ambitious sister on all her dealings with the King. And as Anne's influence waned, so did this faction brought together by Chapuys gain in strength and confidence.
The King was no fool: he could see which way the wind was blowing, having been told by Chapuys that the Emperor wanted peace in order to preserve the mutually profitable trading links between his people and Henry's. He had also been made aware, by implication, that the removal of Anne would facilitate this. Were she to be sacrificed to pro-imperialist policy, few would speak out in protest, for she was almost universally disliked. The imperialists were aware of this too, and thus Jane Seymour found herself courted, not only by Henry VIII, but also by Anne's enemies and Chapuys's faction. The ambassador advised her to drop heavy hints about Anne's heretical leanings in Henry's ear, and to say that the people of England would never accept her as their true Queen. She must say these things in the presence of her supporters, who would all then swear, on their allegiance to the King, that she spoke the truth. Jane certainly acted upon this advice, and it had the desired effect upon the King, who was now receptive to criticism of his wife. Jane also followed her own instincts, and the advice of her friends, by not admitting Henry to her bed. Instead, she dropped heavy hints about marriage, which fell on fertile ground, and before long Henry began to behave towards her with great circumspection, leading others to believe that he was already considering her as a future wife. From this time on, he took care to avoid any hint of scandal attaching itself to her name; her family and adherents were quick to notice this new deference on the part of the King, and Sir Francis Bryan told Jane's parents that they would shortly see their daughter 'well bestowed' in marriage.
Henry VIII finally made up his mind to rid himself of Anne Boleyn sometime in February 1536. Apart from the fact that their marriage was in ruins, the political situation in Europe made its dissolution highly desirable. Relations between Francis and Charles were deteriorating, and Henry was anxious to secure Charles's friendship. Anne was a bar to this, and would have to go. Chapuys, who had intimated as much to Henry, sounded out Cromwell as to what might happen, and though Cromwell was noncommittal, the ambassador concluded that something was afoot.
It was indeed. Henry left Greenwich for London for the Shrovetide celebrations, taking the unprecedented step of leaving Anne behind. Jane was left behind also, for Henry wanted her out of th
e way while he plotted the fate of her mistress. A month after her miscarriage, Anne was still grieving over the loss of her son, realising full well that she had lost not only a child but also her husband. Her company consisted of her ladies and her female fool, whose antics did little to alleviate her wretchedness. For the first time, she could appreciate how Katherine had suffered, and she expressed the view that her fate would be the same as the former queen's. She had guessed that Henry was thinking of taking another wife.
Jane Seymour was a continual thorn in Anne's side. Presents and messages from Henry arrived regularly for her, to Anne's disgust, and jealousy made her shrewish. She kept a continual watch on Jane's activities, and on more than one occasion lashed out and slapped her rival, using her prerogative as mistress. When Jane received a locket containing the King's miniature from Henry, and made a great show of opening and shutting it in front of Anne, the Queen reacted violently, ripping the locket from Jane's neck so roughly that she cut her own finger. Anne would dearly have loved to dismiss Jane from her service, but she dared not do so.
On 29 February, Charles V formally instructed Chapuys to begin negotiating an alliance with Henry VIII, and in early March war broke out between Spain and France. The removal of Queen Anne was now a matter of urgency. Chapuys had told the Emperor much about Jane, 'the young lady whose influence increases daily', saying she was a lady of great virtue and kindness, who was known to be sympathetic towards the Lady Mary. 'I will endeavour by all means to make her continue in this vein,' he wrote, although he expressed in the same letter his concern that 'no scorpion lurks under the honey'. Chapuys, too, had sensed that Jane's meek appearance hid an inner toughness.
Henry was finding his absence from Jane unbearable, and it was at this time that an incident occurred that was to change the course of their affair. The King had sent Sir Nicholas Carew from London with a love-letter and a purse of gold for her. Until now, Jane had not scrupled to accept expensive gifts, but even she drew the line at accepting money. Instead, she seized her opportunity to drop a timely hint, hoping to provoke the King into declaring his true intentions. She kissed his letter with great reverence, then handed it back unopened to Sir Nicholas. Then, falling to her knees, she asked him to beg the King on her behalf to consider that she was a prudent gentlewoman of good and honourable family, a woman without reproach who had no greater treasure in this world than her honour, which she would not harm for a thousand deaths. If the King wished
to send her a present of money, 'she prayed him to do so when God might send her a husband to marry'. Henry was delighted with this calculated show of maidenly
propriety. 'She has behaved herself in this matter very modestly,' he said, 'and in order to let it be seen that my intentions and affection are honourable, I intend in future only to speak with her in the presence of her relatives.' When he returned to Greenwich, he turned Cromwell out of his suite of rooms that were connected to Henry's own apartments by a secret gallery and installed there Sir Edward Seymour (who had recently been made a gentleman of the privy chamber) and his wife Anne. It was arranged that Jane would share these rooms with her brother and sister-in-law, and that they would act as chaperons when the King came to pay court to her. But the secret gallery did not remain a secret for long - Chapuys already knew of it by April.
The imperialists supported the idea of a royal divorce, believing that the dissolution of the King's marriage to Anne would mean recognition of the Lady Mary's right to the succession. Charles V urged Chapuys to press for Mary's restoration as her father's heiress: 'It matters not what the wrong done to her late mother may have been.' The ambassador was also to find out Anne Boleyn's views on the matter: the Emperor wanted the alliance with England so much that he was prepared to accept Elizabeth's right to a place in the succession after Mary. Above all, Chapuys was not to dissuade Henry from marrying again. Chapuys, of course, would never have dreamed of doing so. In fact, on 1 April, he learned from Cromwell that Henry was certainly contemplating taking another wife, and that it would not be a Frenchwoman. He guessed then that the King meant to marry Jane Seymour. Jane left Greenwich in April; not only was she distressed by the rumours and lewd ballads about her affair with the King then circulating in London, but Henry also wanted her away from the court while plans were laid for the elimination of the Queen. So Jane returned to Wulfhall, travelling with her brother and his wife.
Anne had spent the early months of 1536 at Greenwich, occupying herself with charitable works, playing with her dogs, and ordering new clothes, including embroidered caps and leading reins, for her little daughter. Her accounts show that she kept the child sumptuously dressed, taking a personal interest in Elizabeth's attire. She rarely saw the King now, and no one would tell her anything while rumours of divorce and annulment abounded. Fear was closing in on her, and her inner turmoil may easily be imagined.
Henry had been pondering the problem of what to do with Anne for some weeks now. He was eager to commit himself without further delay to the proposed imperial alliance, and feared that the Emperor might think him lukewarm if he did not act soon. Then Cromwell's agile mind came up with a solution as fantastic as it was atrocious, which he presented to the King some time in April. He told Henry he had certain suspicions of the Queen as a result of information laid by his spies. His intention was to accuse Anne of a capital crime, such as high treason, and institute proceedings against her. The crime must be such as to inspire not only revulsion for Anne but also sympathy for Henry, and it must be something that would merit divorce as well as death. Given Anne's love of flirtation and her encouragement of the fashionable cult of courtly love, few would find it hard to believe that, desperate for a child, she had resorted to adultery and even to plotting the death of the King in order to save her own skin.
Adultery in a queen was not high treason at that date: according to the Statute of Treasons of 1351, 'violating the King's companion' was the treasonable act, and therefore only Anne's putative lovers would stand guilty of it. But compassing the death of the King was high treason, and it attracted the death penalty. In presenting this as a possible solution to the King, Cromwell took a risk that Henry would be angry at the suggestion that he had been cuckolded, and at the implied insults to the woman who was still, after all, his wife and the Queen of England. But Henry, spurred by his passion for Jane Seymour, his need of the Spanish alliance, and his desire for vengeance upon Anne, who had promised so much and failed to deliver, accepted the allegations at face value, merely asking Cromwell to find evidence to support them. How seriously the King took the allegations is difficult to judge; outwardly, he behaved as if he were convinced of Anne's guilt. He believed she had lied to him over her chastity before marriage, and he was well aware that she encouraged courtly flirtations with the young men in her circle. But he was also a master of the art of dissimulation, and what is more likely is that he and Cromwell, without ever acknowledging the fact to each other, both knew that they were parties to a plot to do away with an innocent woman for the sake of expediency, and that - for it to succeed - they must appear convinced of her guilt.
All that Henry asked was that the business be over and done with as soon as possible, so that he would be free to marry Jane and make peace with Charles V. Anne must be kept in the dark as much as possible until the last moment: she must not be given time to muster support. Above all, she must be prevented from appealing to Parliament, the supreme court, and accordingly Parliament was dissolved on 14 April. Two days later, Mr Secretary intimated to Chapuys that his master would soon be ready to conclude the alliance with the Emperor. Not knowing what was going on, and having heard nothing more about a divorce, the ambassador steeled himself to make friendly overtures to Queen Anne, as the Emperor had instructed, and on the Tuesday after Easter, when Anne went in procession to chapel, Chapuys bowed low to her, something he had never done before. It was a bitter moment for him, but Anne was gracious, and sank into a deep reverence. Having as a result grounds for hope that C
harles V was prepared to acknowledge her title, she went about for the rest of the day loudly proclaiming that she had abandoned her friendship with King Francis and was on the side of the Emperor. But when Chapuys did not appear at a public dinner that evening she grew worried, and asked Henry why he was absent. 'It is not without good reason,' replied her husband sourly. Chapuys did not speak to Anne again: the Lady Mary and others of his faction had been astonished by his behaviour in the chapel, and he felt ashamed.
Meanwhile, Cromwell retired to his house at Stepney, ostensibly because he was ill, but in reality to give him time to compile the 'evidence' against the Queen. He returned to court on 23 April, the same day that Chapuys was telling the Emperor that Henry was 'sick and tired of that she-devil'. The King had also refused Anne's request to admit Rochford to the Order of the Garter.
Cromwell's plans were now complete, and from then on events moved swiftly. On 24 April, the Lord Chancellor appointed a commission of oyer and terminer, consisting of himself, Cromwell, Norfolk, Suffolk and others, which would hold an enquiry into every kind of treason. The King, emphasising his innocence of what was afoot, now behaved as if he meant to continue in his marriage, and on 25 April he wrote to his ambassador in Rome, saying he felt it likely that 'God will send us heirs male [by] our most dear and most entirely beloved wife the Queen'. By now several people were involved in the proceedings against that same dear and most entirely beloved wife. Norfolk had long since been alienated from his niece by her arrogance, and he was prepared to dissociate himself from her: she was too big a liability. Suffolk had never liked her, and Cromwell knew she must go. He alone knew how false the allegations were; the other commissioners were required to accept them at face value, which they did without difficulty.