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A.D. 1536.]

TRIAL OF QUEEN ANNE.

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reported by her female spies, through Cromwell to the it may not touch the innocent souls of those poor gentleking:

"TO THE KING, FROM THE LADIE IN THE TOWER. "Sir,-Your grace's displeasure and my imprisonment are things so strange unto me, that what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether ignorant. Whereas you sent to me (willing to confess a truth and so obtain your favour) by such a one, whom you knew to be mine ancient professed enemy, I no sooner received this message by him, than I rightly conceived your meaning; and if, as you say, confessing a truth, indeed, may procure my safety, I shall, with all willingness and duty, perform your command. But let not your grace ever imagine that your poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a fault, where not so much as a thought ever proceeded. And to speak the truth, never had prince a wife more loyal in all duty, and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Anne Bolen-with which name and place I could have willingly contented myself, if God and your grace's pleasure had been so pleased. Neither did I at any time so far forget myself in my exaltation or received queenship but that I always looked for such alteration as I now find; for the ground of my preferment being on no Furer foundation than your grace's fancy, the least alteration was fit and sufficient (I knew) to draw that fancy to sime other object.

"You have chosen me from a low estate to be your queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire; if then you found me worthy of such honour, good your grace, let not any light fancy or bad counsel of my enemies withdraw your princely favour from me; neither let that stain-that unworthy stain-of a disloyal heart towards your good grace ever cast so foul a blot on me, and on the infant princess, your daughter.

men who, as I understand, are likewise in strait im-
prisonment for my sake. If ever I have found favour
in your sight-if ever the name of Anne Bolen have been
pleasing in your ears-then let me obtain this request; and
so I will leave to trouble your grace any further, with
mine earnest prayer to the Trinity to have your grace in
his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions.
"From my doleful prison in the Tower, the 6th of May,
ANNE BOLEN."

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This letter, a copy of which was found amongst the papers of Cromwell, when his turn came to pay the penalty of serving that remorseless tyrant, is the letter of an innocent woman, and forms a strange contrast to the dubious language put into her mouth by those who reported her speech on the scaffold.

On the 10th of May an indictment for high treason was found by the grand jury of Westminster against Anne and the five gentlemen accused; and on the same day the four commoners were put upon their trial in Westminster Hall, for the alleged offences againt the honour and life of their sovereign lord. A true bill was also found against them by the grand juries of Kent and Middlesex, some of the offences being laid in those counties, at Greenwich, Hampton Court, &c. Smeaton, the musician, was the only one who could be brought to confess his guilt; and it is declared by Constantyne, who was in attendance on the trials, and wrote an account of the proceedings, that he had been grievously racked" to bring him to that confession. According to Grafton's chronicle, he was beguiled into signing the deposition, which criminated the queen as well as himself, by an offer of pardon like that so repeatedly made to Norris. The weak man fell into the snare; the rest of the accused stood firmly by their innocence, and neither threats nor promises could move them from it. Norris was a great favourite with the king, who still appeared anxious to save his life, and sent to him, offering him again full pardon if he would confess his guilt. But Norris nobly declared that he believed in his conscience that the queen was wholly innocent of the crimes charged upon her; but whether she were so or not, he could not accuse her of anything, and that he would rather die a thousand deaths than falsely accuse the innocent. On this being told to Henry, he exclaimed, "Let him hang then! hang him up then!" All the four were condemned to death.

"Try me, good king, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and as my judges; yea, let me receive an open trial, for my truth shall fear no open shame. Then shall you see either mine innocency cleared, your suspicions and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and slander of the world stopped, or my guilt openly declared. So that whatever God and you may determine of, your grace may be freed from an open censure; and mine offence being so well proved, your grace may be at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me 18 an unfaithful wife, but to follow your affection already On the 16th of May, Queen Anne and her brother, settled on that party, for whose sake I am now as I am; Lord Rochford, were brought to trial in the great hall in whose name I could some good while since have pointed the Tower, a temporary court being erected within it for anto,-your grace not being ignorant of my suspicion the purpose. The Duke of Norfolk, a known and notorious therein. But if you have already determined of me, enemy of the accused, was created Lord High Steward for and that not only my death, but an infamous slander, the occasion, and presided-a sufficient proof, if any was nst bring you the joying of your desired happiness, then wanted, that no justice was intended. His son, the Earl I desire God that he will pardon your great sin herein, of Surrey, sat as Deputy Earl-Marshal beneath him. and likewise my enemies, the instruments thereof; and Twenty-six peers, as "lords-triers," constituted the that he will not call you to a strict account for your un- Court and amongst these appeared the Duke of Suffolk, a princely and cruel usage of me at his general judgment-nobleman still more inveterate in his hatred of the queen sat, where both you and myself must shortly appear; and in whose judgment, I doubt not (whatsoever the world may think of me), mine innocency shall be openly known and sufficiently cleared.

"My last and only request shall be, that myself may nly bear the burden of your grace's displeasure, and that

than the chief judge himself. The Earl of Northumberland, Anne's old lover, was one of the lords-triers; but he was seized with such a disorder, no doubt resulting from his memory of the past, that he was obliged to quit the court before the arraignment of Lord Rochford, and did not live many months. Henry, by his tyranny, had

forcibly rent asunder his engagement with Anne; had embittered his life; and tired of the treasure which would have made Northumberland happy, he now called upon that injured man to assist in destroying one whom he had already lost.

Lord Rochford defended himself with such courage and ability, that even in that packed court there were many who, by their sense of justice, were led to brave the vengeance of the terrible king, and voted for his acquittal. The chief witness against him was his own wife, who had hated Anne Boleyn from the moment that she became the king's favourite; and now, with a most monstrous violation of all nature and decency, strove to destroy her queen and her own husband together. Spite of the impression which the young viscount made on some of his judges, he was condemned, for Henry willed it, and that was enough.

to each and every one of those persons that "she loved him better than any person in the world," and that the king never had her heart. The charge against her, as it regarded her own brother, amounted merely to Lady Rochford having seen him leaning on her bed. To these most improbable charges was added the utterly absurd one, that she had at various times conspired against the king's life. "As for the evidence," says Wyatt, "as I never could hear of any, small I believe it was. The accusers must have doubted whether their proofs would not prove their reproofs, when they dared not bring them to the light in an open place."

Anne seems to have shown great ability and address on the occasion. She is said to have spoken with extraordinary force, wit, and eloquence, and so completely scattered all the vile tissue of lies that was brought against her, that the spectators imagined that there was When he was removed, Anne, Queen of England, was nothing for it but to acquit her. "It was reported with

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summoned into court, and appeared attended by her ladies | out doors," says Wyatt, "that she had cleared herself in and Lady Kingston, and was conducted to the bar by the Constable and Lieutenant of the Tower. She stood alone, without counsel or adviser; yet in that trying moment she displayed a dignified composure worthy of her station and of the character of an innocent woman. Crispin, Lord of Milherve, who was present, says that "she presented herself at the bar with the true dignity of a queen, and curtsied to her judges, looking round upon them all without any signs of fear." When the indictment against her, charging her with adultery and incest, had been read, she held up her hand, and pleaded not guilty.

a most wise and noble speech." But alas! it was neither wisdom, wit, truth, innocence, eloquence, nor all the powers and virtues which could be assembled in one soul, which could draw an acquittal from that assembly of slaves bound by selfish terror to the yoke of the remorseless despot who now disgraced the throne. "Had the peers given their verdict according to the expectation of the assembly," says Bishop Godwin, "she had been acquitted." But they knew they must give it according to the expectation of their implacable master, and she was condemned.

When the verdict had been pronounced, Anne was Not only was the confession of Mark Smeaton produced required to put off her crown, and lay aside everything against her, but the alleged dying confession of the Lady denoting her royalty, which she did without opposition. Wingfield, who had been in the queen's service, and on Her uncle, the heartless Duke of Norfolk, then passed her death-bed made a deposition of which no record re-sentence upon her, adjudging her to be burnt or beheaded mains; for the evidence was carefully destroyed, no doubt in the following reign of her daughter, Elizabeth. The crimes charged on the queen were infidelity towards the king with the four persons named, and that she had said

at the king's pleasure. The wretched queer heard this stern sentence uttered by her unnatural kinsman, with out any symptom of terror; but as soon as he had ended, she clasped her hands, and raising her eyes to heaven,

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at the Royal Haut in Epping Forest, on the Morning of the Exodution of Annu Ralevn

she exclaimed, "Oh, Father! oh, Creator! Thou, the way, the life, and the truth, knowest whether I have deserved this death!" She then said, "My lords, I will not say that your sentence is unjust, nor presume that my reasons can prevail against your convictions. I am willing to believe that you have sufficient reasons for what you have done; but then they must be other than those which have been produced in this court, for I am clear of all the offences which you there laid to my charge. I have ever been a faithful wife to the king; though I do not say I have always shown him that humility which his goodness to me, and the honour to which he raised me, merited. I confess I have had jealous fancies and suspicions of him, which I had not discretion and wisdom enough to conceal at all times; but God knows, and is my witness, that I never sinned against him any other way. Think not I say this in hope to prolong my life: God hath taught me how to die, and he will strengthen my faith. Think not that I am so bewildered in my mind as not to lay the honour of my chastity to heart now in mine extremity, when I have maintained it all my life long, as much as ever queen did. I know these last words will avail me nothing, but for the justification of my chastity and honour. As for my brother, and those others who are unjustly condemned, I would willingly suffer many deaths to deliver them; but since I see it so pleaseth the king, I shall willingly accompany them in death, with this assurance, that I shall lead an endless life with them in peace." She then arose with a composed air, made an obeisance to the judges, and quitted the court.

Of the few spectators who were present, the universal feeling was that Anne was perfectly innocent, but borne down by a predetermining power. The Lord Mayor, who was one of them, and who was accustomed to try . prisoners and decide on evidence, declared that "he could not observe anything in the proceedings against her, but that they were resolved to make an occasion to get rid of her."

And, indeed, Henry lost no time in getting rid of the woman, to obtain whom he had moved heaven and earth for years-threatening the peace of kingdoms, and rending the ancient bonds of the Church. The very day on which she was condemned, he signed her deathwarrant, and sent Cranmer to confess her. There is something rather hinted at than proved in this part of these strange proceedings. Anne, when she was conveyed from Greenwich to the Tower, told her enemies proudly that nothing could prevent her dying their queen; and now, when she had seen Cranmer, she was in high spirits, and said to her attendants that she believed she should be spared after all, and that she understood that she was to be sent to Antwerp. The meaning of this the event of the next day sufficiently explained. In the morning, on a summons from the Archbishop Cranmer, she was conveyed privately from the Tower to Lambeth, where she voluntarily submitted to a judgment that her marriage with the king had been invalid, and was, therefore, from the first null and void. Thus she consented to dethrone herself, to unwife herself, and to bastardise her only child. For what? Undoubtedly from the promise of life, and from fear of the horrid death by fire. he had received the confident idea of escape

with life from the visit of Cranmer, there can be no rational doubt that he had been employed by the king to tamper with her fears of death and the stake, to draw this concession from her. Does any one think this impossible or improbable in the great Reformer of the ChurchCranmer? Let him weigh his very next proceeding.

Cranmer had formerly examined the marriage of Henry and Anne carefully by the canon law, and had pronounced it good and valid. He now proceeded to contradict every one of his former arguments and decisions, and pronounced the same marriage null and void. A solemn mockery of everything true, serious, and Divine was now gone through. Henry appointed Dr. Sampson his proctor in the case; Anne had assigned her the Drs. Wotton and Barbour. The objections to th marriage were read over to them in the presence of the queen. The king's proctor could not dispute them; the queen's were, with pretended reluctance, obliged to admit them, and both united in demanding a judgment. Then the great archbishop and Reformer, "having previously invoked the name of Christ, and having God alone before his eyes," pronounced definitively that the marriage formally contracted, solemnised, and consummated betwixt Henry and Anne was from the first illegal, and, therefore, no marriage at all; and the poor woman, who had been induced to submit to this deed of shame ani of shameful deception, was sent back, not to life-not to exile at Antwerp, but to the block!

Taking these facts as they stand, without reference to persons, parties, or countries, we must say that in n portion of the world's history, in no age however dark and degraded, do we find deeds more stamped with infamy. Here is a king who sets all laws of heaven or earth, of justice and honour, all sentiments of decorum, affection, and humanity, at defiance; who binds and unbinds, contracts the most sacred unions and breaks them; who plays with lives and souls, with all their rights and feelings, as he would with bowls. And here is a primate of England, a man professedly aiming to reform the Church, to restore corrupted religion, to break the power of the Pope, to establish independence of spirit and opinion, who crouches before this monster, this incarnation of cruelty, lust, and libertinism, and seems to lick the very dust of dishonour and dishonesty from beneath his feet. There is not a more revolting spectacle than that of Henry at this period-there is not a more humiliating and melancholy one than that of Cranmer.

And what strange consequences flowed directly from this judgment. If Anne never were legally married to Henry, then she could not have committed adultery against him. Then the sentence which condemned her fr this was altogether an unrighteous sentence. If this judgment were valid, then all the treasons based upon the validity of the marriage were done away with; and the men now condemned, were condemned, even if guilty with Anne, yet without any guilt against the king or crown. But if the act of settlement remained good, spite of the judgment, then the judgment itself was a treason. for it had "slandered and impugned the marriage," a circumstance which the act of settlement pronounced to be most treasonable. But the law in this gloomy time was merely what the tyrant decreed, and all classes were alike paralysed by this terrific despotism. The Convoca.

A.D. 1336.]

ANNE BOLEYN CONDEMNED TO DEATH.

tion and the Parliament confirmed the judgment of Cranmer, for they knew it was the judgment of the king.

"My pains who can express?

Alas! they are so strong,

My dolour will not suffer strength, My life for to prolong!

Alone, in prison strange,

I wan my destiny.

Woe worth this cruel hap, that:
Should taste this misery!

"Farewell, my pleasures past;

Welcome, my present pain:

I feel my torments so increase,
That life cannot remain.

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On the same day that Cranmer pronounced this judgment, the condemned courtiers were executed. Smeaton, on account of the inferiority of his rank, was Langed; the other four were beheaded. Nothing was more remarkable in their deaths than that they all used an ambiguous sort of language in the few words which they addressed to the spectators, neither declaring themselves innocent nor guilty of the charge under which they suffered. The leaden weight of despotism weighed on their very souls till the rope strangled or the axe fell; and even the four who had so stoutly all through denied their guilt, seemed on the scaffold almost half to admit it. Was it that they had been only allowed to address the spectators on condition of saying nothing in prejudice of same time, express her sense of the infamy cast upon her,

the king; or was the report of the officials, which was entered on the records, garbled by them to please their crowned master? Lord Rochford, indeed, spoke out more distinctly than the rest, for he declared that he had "never offended the king," which was, in fact, most fully asserting his innocence. Rochford was a very accomplished man, and an elegant poet, some of his poems being published along with those of his friend Sir Thomas Wyatt. He is said to have sung, on the evening before his death, a very popular lyric of his, which yet remains, and which was most applicable to his situation:

"Farewell, my lute, this is the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
For ended is that we began.

Now is the song both sung and past:
My lute, be still, for I have done."

Henry VIII. seemed to have a particular pleasure in destroying genius; and, if he had committed no other crimes, his murders of Sir Thomas More, Lord Rochford, and the Earl of Surrey would make his name execrable to all time.

Queen Anne had two more days allowed her, which she spent chiefly with her confessor in devotional preparation for her death. Amid her devotions, however, she was not insensible to her reputation, for she calculated strongly on Mark Smeaton doing her that justice on the scaffold for which the hope of life had made him too weak. But when she heard that he had not, she exclaimed indignantly, "Has he not, then, cleared me from the public shame he hath done me? Alas! I fear his soul will suffer from the false witness he hath borne. My brother and the rest are now, I doubt not, before the face of the greater King, and I shall follow to-morrow." Like her brother, she endeavoured to soothe her agitated spirit with poetry. The following stanzas, composed by her after her condemnation, show that she possessed talents too good to have been stifled in the Court of a ensual despot like Henry VIII. :—

"O Death, rock me asleep,

Bring on my quiet rest;

Let pass my very guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.

Ring out the doleful knell :
Let its sound my death tell,-

For I must die,

There's no remedy,
For : w I die!

Sound now the passing-bell,
Rung is my doleful knell,

For its sound my death doth tell.
Death doth draw nigh,

Sound the knell dolefully,
For now I die!"

Two stanzas, also said to have been written at the

and her firm conviction that it would not endure :

"Defiled is my name full sore,

Through cruel spite and false report,
That I may say, for evermore,
Farewell to joy; adieu, comfort.
"For wrongfully ye judge of me,

Unto my fame a mortal wound:
Say what ye list, it may not be,

Ye seek for that shall not be found."

With all the merits attributed to her as a Church reformer, Anne died a decided Roman Catholic. She not only made full use of confession, but also received the sacraments according to the doctrine of consubstantiation. One confession also she made, which showed that the memory of her rigorous treatment of the ill-used child of Catherine, the Princess Mary, lay heavily upon her in that hour. This is Speed's account of the circumstance: six ladies in the Tower, she took the Laly Kingston into "The day before she suffered death, being attended by them, willed her to sit down in the chair of state. Lady her presence-chamber, and there, locking the door upon Kingston answered, that it was her duty to stand, and not to sit at all in her presence, much less upon the seat of state of her the queen.' 'Ah! madam,' replied Anne, law have no estate left me in this life; but for clearing of that title is gone: I am a condemned person, and by Kingston. I have often played the fool ir my youth, my conscience, I pray you sit down.' 'Well,' said Lady and to fulfil your command, I will do it once more in mine age,' and thereupon sat down under the cloth of estate upon the throne. Then the queen most humbly fell on her knees before her, and, holding up her hands with tearful eyes, charged her, 'as in the presence of God and his angels, and as she would answer to her before them when all should appear to judgment, that she would in-law, and in like manner ask her forgiveness for the so fall down before the Lady Mary's grace, her daughterwrongs she had done her; for till that was accomplished,' she said, 'her conscience could not be quiet.""

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Friday, the 19th of May, was the day fixed for her execution, and on that morning she rose at two o'clock and resumed her devotions with her almoner. She sent for Sir William Kingston to be witness to her last solemn protest of her innocence before taking the sacrament. As Henry had wantonly tantalised her with the hope of life after her condemnation, he now again put her on the rack of suspense by leaving the hour of her execution un

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