=COMMISSION OF ENQUIRY.=
On the 25th of April the king appointed a commission to enquire into Anne's conduct, and placed on it the duke of Norfolk, a maternal uncle but (as we have said) an implacable enemy of the unfortunate queen; the duke of Suffolk, who, as Henry's brother-in-law, served him in his least desires; the earl of Oxford, a skilful courtier; William Paulet, comptroller of the royal household, whose motto was, 'To be a willow and not an oak;' Audley, the honestest of all, but still his master's humble servant; Lord Delawarr, and several other lords and gentlemen, to the number of twenty-six. It has been said, by Burnet and others, that the king named Anne's father, the earl of Wiltshire, one of the judges. It would, no doubt, have been the most striking trait of cruelty, of which Henry gave so many proofs; but we must in justice declare that the wretched prince did not perpetrate such a monstrosity. Burnet, after the most searching investigations, retracted his error.[297] On Thursday, the 27th of April, the king, understanding the necessity of a Parliament to repeal the laws made in favor of Anne and her children, issued writs for its assembling. He was resolved to hurry on the business—equally impatient to hear no more of his wife, and to possess her who was the object of his desires.
Anne, who was ignorant of what was going on, had gradually recovered a little serenity, but it was not so with those around her. The court was agitated and uneasy. The names of the commissioners were canvassed, and people wondered where the terrible blows of the king would fall. Many were alarmed for themselves or their friends. Would the storm burst on Sir Thomas Wyatt, who wrote verses in Anne's honor? or on Lord Northumberland, whom the queen had loved before Henry cast his eyes upon her? The king did not intend to go so high.
The indecision did not last long. At two o'clock on the 27th of April—the very day when the writs for the new Parliament were issued—William Brereton, one of the gentlemen of the king's household, pointed out by the queen's enemies, was arrested and taken to the Tower. Two days later, on the 29th of April, Anne was crossing the presence-chamber, where a miserable creature happened to be present at that moment. It was Mark Smeton, the court-musician—a vain, cowardly, corrupt man, who had felt hurt because, since the day when he had played before the queen at Winchester, that princess had never even looked at him. He was standing, in a dejected attitude, leaning against a window. It is possible that, having heard of the disgrace that threatened the queen, he hoped, by showing his sorrow, to obtain from her some mark of interest. Be that as it may, his unusual presence in that room, the posture he had assumed, the appearance of sorrow which he had put on, were evidently intended to attract her attention. The trick succeeded. Anne noticed him as she passed by. 'Why are you sad?' she asked. 'It is no matter, madam.' The queen fancied that Smeton was grieved because she had never spoken to him. 'You may not look to have me speak to you,' she added, 'as if you were a nobleman, because you are an inferior person.' 'No, madam,' replied the musician, 'I need no words; a look sufficeth me.'[298] He did not receive the look he asked for, and his wounded vanity urged him from that moment to ruin the princess, by whom he had the insolence to wish to be remarked. Smeton's words were reported to the king, and next day (April 30), the musician was arrested, examined at Stepney, and sent to the Tower.
=TOURNAMENT AT GREENWICH.=
A magnificent festival was preparing at Greenwich, to celebrate the First of May in the usual manner. This was the strange moment which Henry had chosen for unveiling his plans. In certain minds there appears to be a mysterious connection between festivities and bloodshed; another prince (Nero) had shown it in old times, and some years later Charles IX. was to celebrate the marriage of his sister Margaret by the massacres of St. Bartholomew. Henry VIII. gave to two of the victims he was about to immolate the foremost places in the brilliant tournament he had prepared. Lord Rocheford, the queen's brother, was the principal challenger, and Henry Norris was chief of the defenders. Sir Francis Weston was also to take part in these jousts. Henry showed himself very gracious to them, and hid with smiles their approaching destruction. The king having taken his place, and the queen, in a magnificent costume, being seated by his side, Rocheford and Norris passed before him, lowering their spears—morituri te salutant. The jousting began immediately after. The circumstances of the court gave a gloomy solemnity to the festival. The king, who was watching with fixed eyes the struggles of his courtiers, started up all of a sudden, with every appearance of anger, and hastily quitted the balcony. What had happened? The ultramontane Sanders, notorious as being a most malicious and fabulous writer, mentions that the queen had dropped her handkerchief into the lists, and that Norris took it up and wiped his face with it. Lord Herbert, Burnet, and others affirm that there is nothing to corroborate the story, which, were it true, might be very innocent. However, the festivities were interrupted by the king's departure. The confusion was universal, and the alarmed queen withdrew, eager to know the cause of the strange procedure.[299] Thus ended the rejoicings of the First of May.
Henry, who had gone back to the palace, hearing of the queen's return, refused to see her, ordered her to keep her room, mounted his horse, and, accompanied by six gentlemen, galloped back to London. Slackening his pace for a time, he took Norris aside, and, telling him the occasion of his anger, promised to pardon him if he would confess. Norris answered, with firmness and respect: 'Sire, if you were to cut me open and take out my heart, I could only tell you what I know.'[300] On reaching Whitehall, Henry said to his ministers: 'To-morrow morning you will take Rocheford, Norris, and Weston to the Tower; you will then proceed to Greenwich, arrest the queen, and put her in prison. Finally, you will write to Cranmer and bid him go immediately to Lambeth, and there await my orders.' The victims were seized, and the high-priest summoned for the sacrifice.
The night was full of anguish to Anne Boleyn, and the next day, when she was surrounded by her ladies, their consternation increased her terror. It seemed to her impossible that a word from her would not convince her husband of her innocence. 'I will positively see the king,' she exclaimed. She ordered her barge to be prepared, but, just as she was about to set out, another barge arrived from London, bringing Cromwell, Audley, and the terrible Kingston, lieutenant of the Tower. That ominous presence was a death-warrant: on seeing him the queen screamed aloud.
=ANNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL.=
They did not, however, remove her at once: the council, on which sat her most violent adversaries, assembled in the palace, and Anne was summoned to appear before it. The duke of Norfolk, the president, informed her coldly of what she was accused, and named her pretended accomplices. At these words, the queen, struck with astonishment and sorrow, fell on her knees and cried out: 'O Lord, if I am guilty, may I never be forgiven!' Then, recovering a little from her emotion, she replied to the calumnious charges brought against her, to which Norfolk answered carelessly and contemptuously, as if he were still speaking to the little girl whom he had seen born, 'Tut, tut, tut,' and shook his head disdainfully.[301] 'I desire to see the king,' said Anne. 'Impossible,' answered the duke; 'that is not included in our commission.' 'I have been very cruelly treated,' said Anne Boleyn, later, when speaking of this horrible conversation with her uncle. 'It is his Majesty's good pleasure that we conduct you to the Tower,' added Norfolk. 'I am ready to obey,' said the queen, and all went in the same barge. When they reached the Tower, Anne landed. The governor was there to receive her. Norfolk and the other members of the council committed her into his charge and departed. It was five in the afternoon.