THE MIDDLE TOWER.
Among Anne's maids of honor was a delicate girl of exquisite charm, and as witty as the Queen herself. Jane Seymour came of a haughty house, but had missed the imperious bearing that was the heritage of her race. The winsome presence, all sweetness and grace, caught the restless fancy of the ungoverned King, and so bewitched was Bluebeard that he determined to slip off the bonds that bound him, and lead another wife to the altar and throne. To be sure, he had worn the light fetters of his second marriage loosely enough, and how to rid himself of the tireless devotion of Anne must have made him ponder and hesitate.
Not for long did he ever wait; patience was not a trait of even the best of the Tudors. One day, at Greenwich Palace, the Constable of London Tower suddenly appeared, and announced it was the King's pleasure that the Queen should at once depart with him. She was in an agony of terror, but calmly said, "If it be the King's pleasure, I obey." Without changing her dress, she entered her barge and was silently rowed to the Traitors' Gate. Under the fatal black arch she knelt and solemnly protested her innocence, prayed and wept, then laughed, and cried again, distracted like one insane. Two of her worst enemies were appointed ladies in waiting, in reality to watch her every movement day and night, tormenting the woful prisoner with questions. "The King wist what he did when he put such women about me," cried the wretched Anne. Faithful friends were lodged near, but not allowed to come close enough to ward off her persecutors.
On the fourth day of her captivity the Queen wrote a heart-breaking letter to the brute she called her sweet lord. It is so touching and tender I wish for more space that I could give it in full. The original MS. you may see in the British Museum. She prayed for a lawful trial, not before her enemies, and generously begged she alone might be condemned, if any. Here is the conclusion:
"If ever I have found favor in your sight, if ever the name of Anne Boleyn has been pleasant in your ears, then let me obtain this request, and I will so leave to trouble your Grace any further, with mine earnest prayers 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 this 6th of May.
"Your most loyal and ever faithful wife,
"Anne Boleyn."
The trial was held the 16th May in the great Hall of the Tower, the scene of much iniquity, but none so black as this. The twenty-six "lords triers" were picked men who knew Henry's will and pitiless cruelty. The defenceless prisoner had no counsel or advice of any kind, but she bore herself composedly, and fearlessly held up her hand and pleaded not guilty. The records of the trial were destroyed, but it is said she defended herself with power and eloquence. It was a mere form; she was sentenced to be burnt or beheaded in three days, at the pleasure of the sovereign, and was requested to lay aside her crown, which she did, swearing herself innocent of any crime against her husband. Then clasping her hands, she appealed from earth to heaven, to the One who judgeth quick and dead: "O Father! O Creator! Thou who art the Way, the Truth, and the Life! Thou knowest that I have not deserved this fate!"
The whole proceeding was a bitter mockery, the deliberate sentence of death of a wife to make room for another.
She knew him too well to entreat for life or an extension of time. Three days more were allowed her, and of the hundreds the lovely lady had befriended not one was bold enough to stand between the murderer and the Queen. He was surrounded by flatterers who compared him to Absalom for beauty, Solomon for wisdom, and heroes ancient and modern for courage. And the same day she was condemned bluff King Harry signed the death warrant of his "entirely beloved Anne Boleyn."
In the dismal Tower she wrote her own requiem, so pitiful, yet so brave a thing few souls could dare. It begins: