"So the fair and lovely Anne Boleyn must lay her head upon the block. The day on which this took place, the king had ordered a great hunt, and early that morning we rode out to Epping Forest. The king was at first unusually cheerful and humorous, and he commanded me to ride near him, and tell him something from the chronique scandaleuse of our court. He laughed at my spiteful remarks, and the worse I calumniated, the merrier was the king. Finally, we halted;the king had talked and laughed so much that he had at last become hungry. So he encamped under an oak, and, in the midst of his suite and his dogs, he took a breakfast, which pleased him very much, although he had now become a little quieter and more silent, and sometimes turned his face toward the direction of London with visible restlessness and anxiety. But suddenly was heard from that direction the dull sound of a cannon. We all knew that this was the signal which was to make known to the king that Anne Boleyn's head had fallen. We knew it, and a shudder ran through our whole frames.
The king alone smiled, and as he arose and took his weapon from my hand, he said, with cheerful face, 'It is done, the business is finished. Unleash the dogs, and let us follow the boar.' [Footnote:
The king's very words. Tytler, p. 383. The oak. under which this took place is still pointed out in Epping Forest, and in fact is not less remarkable as the oak of Charles II.]
"That," said Lord Douglas, sadly, "that was King Henry's funeral discourse over his charming and innocent wife.""Do you regret her, my father?" asked Lady Jane, with surprise. "But Anne Boleyn was, it seems to me, an enemy of our Church, and an adherent of the accursed new doctrine."Her father shrugged his shoulders almost contemptuously. That did not prevent Lady Anne from being one of the fairest and loveliest women of Old England. And, besides, much as she inclined to the new doctrine, she did us essential good service, for she it was who bore the blame of Thomas More's death. Since he had not approved her marriage with the king, she hated him, as the king hated him because he would not take the oath of supremacy. Henry, however, would have spared him, for, at that time, he still possessed some respect for learning and virtue, and Thomas More was so renowned a scholar that the king held him in reverence. But Anne Boleyn demanded his death, and so Thomas More must be executed. Oh, believe me, Jane, that was an important and sad hour for all England, the hour when Thomas More laid his head upon the block. We only, we gay people in the palace of Whitehall, we were cheerful and merry. We were dancing a new kind of dance, the music of which was written by the king himself, for you know the king is not merely an author, but also a composer, and as he now writes pious books, so he then composed dances. [Footnote:
Granger's "Biographical History of England," vol. I, p. 137. of Tytler, p. 354.] That evening, after we had danced till we were tired, we played cards. Just as I had won a few guineas from the king, the lieutenant of the Tower came with the tidings that the execution was over, and gave us a description of the last moments of the great scholar. The king threw down his cards, and, turning an angry look on Anne Boleyn, said, in an agitated voice, 'You are to blame for the death of this man!' Then he arose and withdrew to his apartments, while no one was permitted to follow him, not even the queen. [Footnote: Tytler, p. 354] You see, then, that Anne Boleyn had a claim on our gratitude, for the death of Thomas More delivered Old England from another great peril. Melanchthon and Bucer, and with them several of the greatest pulpit orators of Germany, had set out to come to London, and, as delegates of the Germanic Protestant princes, to nominate the king as head of their alliance. But the terrible news of the execution of their friend frightened them back, and caused them to return when half-way here. [Footnote: Tytler, p.
357. Leti, vol. I, p. 180. Granger, vol. I, p. 119.]
"Peace, then, to the ashes of unhappy Anne Boleyn! However, she was avenged too, avenged on her successor and rival, for whose sake she was made to mount the scaffold--avenged on Jane Seymour.""But she was the king's beloved wife," said Jane, "and when she died the king mourned for her two years.""He mourned!" exclaimed Lord Douglas, contemptuously. "He has mourned for all his wives. Even for Anne Boleyn he put on mourning, and in his white mourning apparel, the day after Anne's execution, he led Jane Seymour to the marriage altar! This outward mourning, what does it signify? Anne Boleyn also mourned for Catharine of Aragon, whom she had pushed from the throne. For eight weeks she was seen in yellow mourning on account of Henry's first wife; but Anne Boleyn was a shrewd woman, and she knew very well that the yellow mourning dress was exceedingly becoming to her.""But the king's mourning was not merely external," said Lady Jane.
"He mourned really, for it was two years before he resolved on a new marriage."Earl Douglas laughed. "But he cheered himself during these two years of widowhood with a very beautiful mistress, the French Marchioness de Montreuil, and he would have married her had not the prudent beauty preferred returning to France, because she found it altogether too dangerous to become Henry's consort. For it is not to be denied, a baleful star hovers over Henry's queens, and none of them has descended from the throne in a natural way.""Yet, father, Jane Seymour did so in a very natural way; she died in childbed.""Well, yes, in childbed. And yet by no natural death, for she could have been saved. But Henry did not wish to save her. His love had already grown cool, and when the physicians asked him whether they should save the mother or the child, he replied, 'Save the child, and let the mother die. I can get wives enough.' [Footnote: Burnet.]
