When Cranmer addressed these soothing words to the king, it was doubtless on the supposition (on which he gives no opinion) that Anne was guilty. But, even admitting this hypothesis, is it not carrying flattery of the terrible autocrat very far, to compare him with Job as the prelate does? In another part of this letter he says: 'By accepting all adversity, without despair and without murmuring, your Grace will give opportunity to God to multiply His blessings, as He did to His faithful servant Job, to whom, after his great calamity, and to reward his patience, He restored the double of what He had possessed.' As regards the king, Cranmer had found for himself a false conscience, which led him into deceitful ways: his letter, although he still tries to defend Anne, cannot be justified.
He was about to dispatch the letter, when he received a message from the lord-chancellor, desiring him to come to the Star-Chamber. The archbishop hastened across the Thames, and found at the appointed place not only Audley, but the Lords Oxford and Sussex, and the lord-chamberlain. These noblemen laid before him the charges brought against Anne Boleyn, adding that they could be proved, though they did not themselves produce any proof. On his return to Lambeth, Cranmer added a postscript to his letter, in which he expressed his extreme sorrow at the report that had just been made to him.
=CRUELTY TO ANNE BOLEYN.=
The morning of the same day (May 3) was a sad one in the Tower. By a refinement of cruelty, the king had ordered two of the queen's enemies—Lady Boleyn and Mistress Cosyns—to be always near her; to which end they slept in her room, while Kingston and his wife slept outside against her chamber-door. What could be the object of these strange precautions? We can only see one. Every word that fell from Anne, even in her convulsions or in her dreams, would be perfidiously caught up, and reported to the king's agents with malicious interpretations. Anne, pardoning the former conduct of these ladies, and wholly engrossed with her father's sorrow, thought she might ask for news about him from the persons who had been given her for companions; but those wicked women, who never spoke to her without rudeness, refused to give her any information. 'The king knew what he was doing,' said Anne to Kingston, 'when he put these two women about me. I could have desired to have two ladies of my chamber, persons whom I love; but his Majesty has had the cruelty to give me those whom I could never endure.'[307]
The punishment continued. Lady Boleyn, hoping to detect some confusion in her niece's face, told her that her brother, Lord Rocheford, was also in the Tower. Anne, who had somewhat recovered her strength, answered calmly, 'I am glad to learn that he is so near me.' 'Madam,' added Kingston, 'Weston and Brereton are also under my charge.' The queen remained calm.[308]
She purposed, however, to vindicate herself, and her first thought turned towards two of the most pious men in England: 'Oh, if God permitted me,' she said, 'to have my bishops (meaning Cranmer and Latimer), they would plead to the king for me.' She then remained silent for a few minutes. A sweet reflection passed through her mind and consoled her. Since she had undertaken the defence of the persecuted evangelicals, gratitude would doubtless impel them to pray for her. 'I think,' she said, 'that the greater part of England is praying for me.'[309]
Anne had asked for her almoner, and, as some hours had elapsed without his arrival, gloomy images once more arose to sadden her mind. 'To be a queen,' she said, 'and to be treated so cruelly—treated as queen never was before!' Then, as if a ray of sunshine had scattered the clouds, she exclaimed: 'No, I shall not die—no, I will not die!... The king has put me in prison only to prove me.' The terrible struggle was too great for the young woman: she had convulsions and fits, and almost lost her senses. Attacked by a fresh hysterical paroxysm, the unfortunate lady burst into laughter. On coming to herself after a while, she cried: 'I will have justice ... justice ... justice!'[310] Kingston, who was present, bowed and said: 'Assuredly, madam.' 'If any man accuses me,' she continued, 'I can only say—No. They can bring no witness against me.'[311] Then she had, all at once, an extraordinary attack: she fell down in delirium, and with eyes starting, as if she were looking into the future, and could foresee the chastisement with which God would punish the infamous wickedness of which she was the victim, she exclaimed: 'If I am put to death, there will be great judgments upon England for seven years.... And I ... I shall be in heaven ... for I have done many good deeds during my life.'[312]
[263] Froude.
[264] Bossuet, Histoire des Variations, liv. vii. art. 8.
[265] 'Quorum morum ingenuitas et candor aliquis ingenii præluceret.'—Letter of Sir John Cheke, 1535. Parker's Correspondence, p. 3.