The 19th of May was the day appointed for her execution, and the interval was passed in prayer and confession, receiving the sacraments of the church, and other preparations for death.
It was the king's pleasure that she should be beheaded in the grounds of the Tower, and that no strangers should be admitted. A headsman from Calais was brought over to do the horrible deed, because he was considered particularly expert. Anne Boleyn's fate had had no precedent in English history, for even in the Norman reigns of terror woman's life had been held sacred, and the most merciless of the Plantagenet sovereigns had been too manly to butcher ladies. But the age of chivalry was over, and Henry VIII. was the first sovereign who sent queens and princesses to the block, without justice or mercy.
The unfortunate queen was duly informed of her fate; her mournful experience had shown her the vanity and vexation of flattery. Beauty, wealth, genius, pleasure, power, royalty, had all been hers, and whither had they led her?
She had not condescended to implore the mercy of the king, for she knew his pitiless nature too well even to attempt to touch his feelings. She passed the last night in prayer, and when morning came, and she heard that her execution was to be a few hours later than she expected, she said to Mr. Kingston: "I hear I shall not die afore noon, and I am very sorry, for I thought to be dead by this time, and past my pain," Mr. Kingston told her that the pain would be little and very short.
"I have heard say," she replied, "that the executioner is very good, and I have a little neck," and she spanned it with her hands, laughing heartily as she did so.
A.D. 1536. Her last message to the king was: "Commend me to his majesty, and tell him he hath been ever constant in his career of advancing me; from a private gentlewoman he made me a marchioness, from a marchioness a queen, and now he hath left no higher degree of honor he gives my innocency the crown of martyrdom."
A few minutes before twelve o'clock the massive doors of the Tower were thrown open, and the royal victim appeared in a robe of black damask with a deep white cape falling around her shoulders.
She looked very beautiful when she ascended the scaffold, with a calm and dignified air, and turning to Kingston she requested him not to hasten the signal of her death until she had spoken what she desired to say.
Then she began: "Good Christian people, I am come hither to die by the law, therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, but only to die, and to yield myself humbly unto the will of my lord the king. I pray God to save the king, and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler or more merciful prince there never was. If any person will meddle with my cause, I require them to judge the best. Thus I take my leave of the world and of you, and I heartily desire that you all will pray for me." She then removed her hat and collar, as well as the close cap from her head, and handed them to her ladies, who were weeping so bitterly that they could not aid her. Then turning to them she said: "And ye, my damsels, who ever showed yourselves so diligent in my service, and who are now to be present at my last hour and mortal agony, as in good fortune ye were faithful to me, so even in this my miserable death ye do not forsake me. And as I cannot reward you for your true service to me, I pray you take comfort for my loss. Forget me not, and be always faithful to the king's grace, and to her whom with happier fortune, ye may have as your queen and mistress. Esteem your honor far above your life, and in prayers forget not to pray for my soul."
Mary Wyatt, the sister of Sir Thomas Wyatt, the poet, who was one of Anne's devoted friends, attended her on the scaffold, and received her last gift, which was a little book of devotions bound in black enamel and gilt. She then whispered a few words to this lady, and kneeling down, placed her head upon the block. Time was allowed the poor unfortunate queen to say; "O Lord God, have pity on my soul," when the sword fell. With one stroke, the head of Anne Boleyn was severed from her body, and rolled in the dust.