Anne Boleyn's Letter from the Tower Read online

  Copyright © 2015

  MadeGlobal Publishing

  Kindle Version

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except as permitted by the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  M

  MadeGlobal Publishing

  For more information on

  MadeGlobal Publishing, visit our website:

  www.MadeGlobal.com

  Cover Image: Anne Boleyn in the Tower by

  Mohammad Rusdianto © 2015 MadeGlobal Publishing

  Based on “Anne Boleyn in the Tower” by Edouard Cibot

  Contents

  FOREWORD

  Anne Boleyn’s Tower Letter

  The marriage collapses

  Anne’s brave assertion

  The letter’s mystery

  The bequest of Thomas Cromwell

  Henry’s ‘Great Griefe’

  AFTERWORD - Anne’s letter: the legacy

  History and time line of Anne’s Tower Letter

  Resources

  List of Figures

  About the Author

  Extras

  FOREWORD

  In November 2014 I planned to visit The British Library, London. My intent was to continue research as I wrote the second instalment of my fictional memoir of Anne Boleyn. The two-part novel, Je Anne Boleyn, highlights the fascinating relationship between Anne and Henry VIII, the great love of her life and her husband for a brief three years.

  In preparation for the trip I spent considerable time thinking about what to request from the manuscripts room for the purpose of viewing original documents. I have found that the privilege of being permitted to touch and scrutinise original, handwritten archives is an invaluable experience – one that cannot be matched, no matter how much effort one devotes to a historical subject. In 2011, I was fortunate enough to examine the stunning Book of Hours, also in the British Library, which holds personal inscriptions from Anne and Henry. The experience was brilliant, and I was convinced, seeing this jewel-like volume in close proximity, that the story that has been told about the inscriptions – Anne and Henry quickly wrote them and exchanged the book in Mass – just didn’t ring true. As a result, I discovered how much original documents have to say to their viewer.

  Tantalised by the thought of poring over other intimate written exchanges between Henry and Anne, when I visited Rome in 2012 I determined to attempt to see the love letters that Henry wrote to Anne. Thanks to the preparation and efforts of very supportive friends and colleagues I was granted access to the Papal Archives and allowed several hours to study the letters in the original. The opportunity significantly changed how I regarded Anne and Henry’s love affair, and forever changed my thinking about historical research.

  I was extremely thoughtful about what I would most love to see, if possible. I read a short article about a letter Anne had written while she was held prisoner in the Tower of London, prior to her death, although history seems divided as to its legitimacy. The letter itself is so moving that I became absorbed by its story. I wanted to know everything I could about it, and discovered that it is housed in the British Library.

  And so my decision was made.

  Once in the manuscripts room at the library, I was assisted by the very helpful specialists and soon learned that the letter – the one considered the ‘original’ – is much too fragile, after having barely survived the Ashburnam House fire in 1731, to be handled. I was, however, given a remarkably detailed image of it, as well as other original, early documents, which mentioned or referred to it. That afternoon I saw a beautiful old copy of the letter written, I feel certain, by the Feathery Scribe, and two other intriguing entries that mentioned it. Spending time with these records, written so long ago, inhaling the powdery and mysterious aroma of age emanating from the parchment leaves of the volumes, observing the care with which information had been recorded and the spidery beauty of the script, all inspired me to pursue as complete a study of the letter as I could. In the past months, I have done just that.

  There are as many opinions regarding how this letter was created as there are historians who have written about it. However, a good number do believe that Anne was its author. Simply the fact that so many records of the letter exist and have been debated and discussed by eminent authorities encourages me to think that this is a document that has something important to say. After studying Anne for many years, the emotional content of the letter and how it is expressed at its particular moment in time to her husband rings absolutely true to me as Anne revealing herself. Some say it is too well composed to be written by Anne. I contest that notion – especially considering that she probably knew it would be her final communication with her husband, and that her words might be preserved for the future. The language, the syntax, all is commensurate with that of the early- to mid-1500s. In seeking possibilities for the provenance of the document, I began by learning as much as I could about Sir Robert Bruce Cotton, in whose original collection within the library the manuscript exists. I studied the world of the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century antiquaries, including the eminent William Camden. And from that point on the letter’s derivation, evolved.

  In truth, we do not know unequivocally the origin of the scorched parchment in the library. And the world may never know who did compose those words without any remnant of doubt. But I believe it was Anne Boleyn, and I offer a credible scenario to contemplate.

  While conducting my searches that day in the library, I spotted an old entry in a volume of handwritten parchment pages. The words that jumped out at me were towards the bottom of a page headed ‘Memoirs of Queen Anne Boleyn’. I saw the phrase “the King acknowledges with great griefe …” I continued reading – and staring – and realised the passage referred to Henry’s remorse over Anne’s death. I had never heard or seen anything about this before, and I urgently scribbled everything I could in my notebook. Once home, I began to search for references to it, or for explanations of it. I have found enough information about this inscription to build on my fascination with the words and their provenance. There is a peculiar, but compelling possibility that the author of the passage did, in fact, have a personal contact with men who surrounded Henry while he was close to death. It’s a captivating thread of history, and not one that has been widely disclosed. It is a fragment, though small and seemingly inconsequential, which deserves attention.

  The ever enthralling story of Henry and Anne holds so many people in its grip the world over. Two charismatic, larger-than-life figures, whose short time together changed the world, and whose lives both came to tragic ends – this is the material for endless speculation and retelling of tales.

  In my research, writing and preparation for publication, I have many generous people to thank for their willingness to help in any way possible.

  My gratefulness always must extend first to my wonderful husband Tom, who engages readily and cheerfully in endless discussion about Henry and Anne.

  I am enormously appreciative to Claire and Tim Ridgway. They are kind, supportive, encouraging and amazing sources of knowledge and creative energy. I am thrilled to be publishing with MadeGlobal.

  To the assistants and the associates in the British Library, from the staff in the manuscripts room who answered many questions, helped with research, looked up dates, and steered me in proper directions, thank you. And thanks to those who accurately copied and sent the images I required and were so helpful in making sure I had exactly what I needed.

  Huge thanks
are in order to Cathy Giannascoli, who was critically helpful in her skilled translation of the important old French passage by André Thévet. Likewise, I extend my deep appreciation to Jon Pohlig whose wonderful interpretation of the Latin inscription by Melanchton, as copied by Bishop Kennett, enabled me to grasp its nuance.

  I am absolutely indebted to Teri Fitzgerald for sharing her knowledge of Thomas Cromwell’s son Gregory, and for the rewarding discussion about Ralph Sadler.

  Thanks, as always, to Maria Maneos for her encouragement and advice.

  In no small measure I am indebted to the warmth, interested encouragement and guidance of friends – so many of them in the wonderful virtual world of the love of Tudor history: Beth von Staats, Sarah Bryson, Deb Hunter, James Peacock, Natalie Grueninger, Adrienne Dillard, Gina Clark, Janet Ambrosi Wertman, Emma Wheatley, Debbie Brown, and Philippa Vincent-Gregory .

  And finally, of course, I am always gratefully aware of how blessed I am for my family.

  Thank you all.

  Sandi Vasoli

  Gwynedd Valley, PA

  USA

  "Take away from History Why, How, and To What End things have been done, and whether the thing done hath succeeded according to Reason; and all that remains will rather be an idle Sport and Foolery, then a profitable instruction: and though for the present it may delight, for the future it cannot profit."

  From Polybius as quoted by William Camden

  Anne Boleyn’s Tower Letter

  Buried deep within the vaults of the British Library remains a compelling and mysterious letter, composed according to some by Queen Anne Boleyn to her husband Henry VIII. Its date is 6 May 1536 – four days after the queen was arrested at Greenwich and rowed to the Tower of London, not for the purpose of visiting a royal residence, but instead as a prisoner viciously accused of high treason.

  The letter is poignant, courageous, noble and masterfully composed.

  And for the past 475 years, its authenticity has been hotly debated.

  This missive has been copied and published, much discussed and analysed by historians and authors throughout the centuries. It represents a significant moment in the annals of Britain and the world. Yet no one has unravelled its convoluted past.

  Its content reveals a fervent proclamation of guiltlessness from a wife to her husband, along with her concern for his eternal soul, expressed in language both intimate and assertive. To read it is to gain a private glimpse into the spirit of a brave, articulate woman who knew she faced death.

  Figure 1 - Hever portrait of Anne Boleyn © Tim Ridgway 2012

  The marriage collapses

  In the days and perhaps weeks leading to her arrest, Anne knew that her relationship with the king – once so wildly passionate and loving – had deteriorated, reaching an ominous nadir. Though there were numerous causes contributing to the marriage’s demise, throughout that difficult time there remained hopeful signs of solidarity between Anne and Henry: a much anticipated trip planned for both to visit Calais; political positioning with European heads of state to reinforce Anne’s place as Henry’s legitimate wife and queen; and the continuation of their regular appearances together. Anne dauntlessly proclaimed to her ladies that she would soon become pregnant again following her tragic miscarriage in January 1536.

  However, tension continued to build and Anne was required to cope with the recent devastating loss of a child while witnessing her husband’s growing interest in a younger woman – a lady-in-waiting within her own household. Her distress must have been significant, and it undoubtedly prompted her to misjudge the wisdom of some of her actions and comments.

  On 30 April at Greenwich, Anne was seen imploring Henry to turn from a window and speak with her. In a touchingly emotional gesture, she carried the nearly three-year-old Princess Elizabeth in her arms, and the king and queen were witnessed to have had a lengthy argument during which Anne could be seen desperately attempting to assuage Henry’s anger.1 It becomes apparent that Anne’s attempt failed, the joint visit to Calais abruptly cancelled.

  The following day, 1 May, was traditionally a celebratory day of jousts and feasting. Anne and Henry attended a tournament together, and though there is no specific record of the demeanour they shared, it does appear that Henry was in good spirits, smiling and being cordial to all. During the jousting competition, an unanticipated message was delivered to the king, for suddenly he stood and departed, taking with him just a few courtiers. Anne was left completely perplexed. Certainly she would have been apprehensive, for his actions did not bode well. Henry had left Greenwich to return to Whitehall without her.

  Anne was never to see Henry again.

  On Saturday 2 May, Queen Anne sat with her ladies watching a game of tennis. Her thoughts must have churned, considering the grim events of the previous two days. When an emissary arrived to tell Anne she was required on the king’s orders to appear immediately before his privy counsellors, she undoubtedly made a mighty effort to quell her rising panic. Upon meeting with her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, and two other council members, she was brusquely informed that she was under arrest for the crime of treason. She was accused of having had adulterous relations with several men. Her protestations of innocence were to no avail and she was escorted by barge to the Tower.

  Once she arrived and was taken in as prisoner, she was met by the constable of the Tower, Sir William Kingston. He was to be her warden and jailer throughout the days that followed. Anne was housed in the queen’s apartments in the royal palace, the same rooms within the Tower that Henry had refurbished for her prior to her coronation only three years previously. While her surroundings may have been comfortable, she was not to be consoled by the company of her dearest companions. Instead, the women assigned to serve and watch over her were those with whom she shared little closeness. Her initial discussions with Kingston reveal her state of extreme anxiety. Anne alternated between tears and hysterical laughter as she perceived the horror of her circumstances.2 During the excruciating days that ensued, Anne learned that her beloved brother George and her friends (and those of the king) Henry Norris, Francis Weston, William Brereton and the court musician Mark Smeaton were all imprisoned as well, charged with having had carnal relations with the queen.

  The study of the precursors to, and the actual time of imprisonment of Anne Boleyn, is an extensive task and has been well documented and analysed (see Resources). But there are significant aspects that must be recounted to illuminate the context resulting in Anne’s letter to Henry.

  The relatively short span of thirty-six months since the marriage of Anne and Henry in January 1533 had been volatile, as an understatement. They had both endured years of fluctuating hope and great disappointment while Henry pursued a divorce from his first wife, Katharine of Aragon, in order to marry Anne, with whom he was deeply in love and who, he felt certain, would give him the son he needed and longed for. After being repeatedly refused the dispensation he sought from Pope Clement VII, and swept along by the tide of changing theological views, Henry freed himself from the restrictive doctrines imposed by the Church of Rome and the pope. Anne played a pivotal role in encouraging the king to establish himself as the head of the Church of England, thereby enabling his own decisions when it came to any and all matters pertaining to his realm. Amongst a small cadre of intellectuals and theologians who supported Henry’s determination to divorce Katharine and marry Anne, and who shaped his philosophical arguments in defence of that decision, was Thomas Cranmer, a Cambridge clerical scholar, soon to become the Archbishop of Canterbury. The other decisive player in that drama was Thomas Cromwell.

  Cromwell, having risen through wit, ability and determination from the most meagre of beginnings, travelled in his youth to Italy, France and the Low Countries, working, learning and gaining skill in multiple languages. By 1515 he had returned to England where he became a part of the household of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, who was young King Henry VIII’s trusted cleric and advisor. He rose within Wolsey’s employ,
and by 1529 had become the lord chancellor’s personal secretary, and had caught the attention of the king. His standing as an efficient and detail-oriented statesman and lawyer allowed him to survive the downfall of his mentor, Wolsey. By 1530, Cromwell was appointed by the king to his privy council. It was around then that Cromwell began to work tirelessly to advance the King’s Great Matter – a divorce from Katharine and a subsequent marriage to Anne Boleyn. His dedication to this pursuit won him the king’s favour.

  Anne and Cromwell shared ideology concerning the advent of the new religion. This commonality, and also the fact that the keenly astute politician Cromwell recognised the ascendant power held by the Boleyn family, encouraged an alliance between Cromwell and Anne. Each provided impetus to the other’s position at Court, while reinforcing the advancing reforms of the church. Cromwell handled a myriad of varied details in the daily lives of Henry and Anne: he was the chief organiser of Anne’s elaborate coronation ceremony of June 1533, he played a key role in the management of the nursery of the infant Princess Elizabeth; he was master of the jewel house amongst other duties, all while providing legal counsel on the complicated politics of the day. Notably, he crafted and provided the enforcement to Henry’s requirement that all of his subjects swear an oath recognising Anne as their queen. This role, as enforcer, revealed Cromwell’s willingness to take brutal action when needed, since several of Henry’s formerly closest advisers, including Thomas More and John Fisher, refused the oath. They were both put to death as a result – Cromwell having seen to the process leading to their executions.3

  Figure 2 - Portrait of Thomas Cromwell, wearing the Garter collar, after Hans Holbein the Younger, circa 1537

  But while many accounts of the collaboration between Anne and Cromwell report that they were close and shared friendship, the truth is likely considerably different. Anne remained wary, knowing that Cromwell was once a trusted protégé of her enemy, Cardinal Wolsey. And Cromwell was far too shrewd to offer an outright commitment to anyone – that is, to anyone but himself and his king. So, as the marriage, and the affinity between Henry and Anne was tested – first with the birth of Elizabeth instead of the hoped for son, then by Anne’s subsequent miscarriages, along with the dearth of supporters for her queenship at home and abroad – Cromwell watched the king and queen fight and argue, then passionately make up. Their capricious pattern was not lost on Cromwell and he, along with many at Court, must have wondered how long the marriage would survive.