THE SECOND DAUGHTER OF KING HENRY THE EIGHTH, BEFORE HER COMING TO THE CROWN. With A True Narrative Of The First Loves Of King Henry The Eighth To Queen Anne Bollen, The Reasons Of His Alienating Of His First Affections, And The True Causes Of Her Woful And Calamitous Death. 1. ELIZABETH, the youngest daughter of King Henry the Eighth, was born at Greenwich on the 7th of September, (being the eve of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary), 1533, begotten on the body of Queen Anne Bollen, the eldest daughter of Thomas Bollen, Earl of Wiltshire, and of Elizabeth his wife, one of the daughters of Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk and Earl Marshal of England. The family of the Bollens before this time neither great nor ancient, but highly raised in reputation by the marriage of the Lady Anne, and the subsequent birth of Queen Elizabeth; the first rise thereof coming out of the city, in the person of Sir Geofrey Bollen, Lord Mayor of London, anno 1457; which Geofrey, being son of one Geofrey Bollen of Sulle in Norfolk, was father of Sir William Bollen, of Blickling in the said county, who took to wife the Lady Margaret, daughter and one of the heirs of Thomas Butler, Earl of Ormond, brother and heir of James Butler, Earl of Wiltshire. Of this marriage came Sir Thomas Bollen above mentioned, — employed in several embassies by King Henry the Eighth, to whom he was treasurer of the household, and by that name enrolled amongst the Knights of the Garter, anno 1523; advanced about two years after, (being the seventeenth of that King), to the style of title of Viscount Roehfort, and finally, in reference to his mother’s extraction, created Earl of Wiltshire and Ormond, 1529. But, dying without issue male surviving, the title of Ormond was restored to the next heir male of the Butlers in Ireland, and that of Wiltshire given by King Edward the Sixth to Sir William Paulet, being then Great Master of the household. And as for that of Viscount Rochfort, it lay dormant after his decease till the 6th of July, anno 1621, when conferred by King James on Henry Cary, Lord Hunsdon, the son of John and grandchild of Henry Cary, whom Queen Elizabeth in the first year of her reign made Lord Cary of Hunsdon, . he being the son and heir of Sir William Cary, one of the esquires of the body to King Henry the Eighth, by the Lady Mary Bollen his wife, the youngest daughter, and one of the co-heirs, of the said Thomas Bollen, Viscount Rochfort and Earl of Wiltshire. 2. Such being the estate of that family which became afterwards so fortunate in the production of this Princess to the realm of England, we must in the next place inquire more particularly into the life and story of Queen Anne, her mother. Who in her tender years attending on Mary the French Queen to the court of France, was by her father, after the return of the said Queen, placed in the retinue of the Duchess of Alanzone, the beloved sister of King Francis, where she not only learnt the language but made herself an exact mistress both of the gaieties and garb of the great French ladies. She carried such a stock of natural graces as rendered her superlatively the most admired beauty in the court of France; and returned thence with all those advantages which the civilities of France could add to an English beauty. For so it happened that her father, being sent with Sir Anthony Brown, anno 1527, to take the oath of the French King to a solemn league not long before concluded betwixt the crowns, resolved to bring back his daughter with him, to see what fortunes God would send her in the court of England. Where, being treasurer of the household, it was no hard matter for him to prefer her to Queen Katharine’s service, on whom she waited in the nature of a maid of honor; which gave the King the opportunity of taking more than ordinary notice of her parts and person. Nor was it long before the excellency of her beauty, adorned with such a gracefulness of behavior, appeared before his eyes with so many charms, that, not able to resist the assaults of love, he gave himself over to be governed by those affections which he found himself unable to master. But he found no such easy task of it as he had done before in bringing Mrs Elizabeth Blount and others to be the subjects of his lusts; all his temptations being repelled by this virtuous lady, like arrows shot in vain at a rock of adamants. She was not to be told of the King’s loose love to several ladies, and knew that nothing could be gained by yielding unto such desires but contempt and infamy, though for a while disguised and palliated by the plausible name and courtly title of a Prince’s mistress. The humble and modest opposition of the Lady Gray to the inordinate affections of King Edward the Fourth advanced her to his bed as a lawful wife, which otherwise she had been possessed of by no better title than that of Jane Shore and his other concubines. By whose examples Mistress Bollen is resolved to steer her courses, and not to yield him any further favors than what the honor of a lady and the modesty of a virgin might inoffensively permit to so great a King. 3. But so it chanced, that, before her coming back from the court of France, the King began to be touched in conscience about his marriage with the Queen, upon occasion of some doubts which had been east in the way both by the ministers of the Emperor and the French King, as touching the legitimation of his daughter Mary. Which doubts, being started at a time when he stood on no good terms with the Emperor, and was upon the point of breaking with him, were secretly fomented by such of the court as had advanced the party of Francis, and sought always to alienate him from the friendship of Charles. Amongst which none more forward than Cardinal Wolsie, who for almost twenty years together had governed his affairs with such power and prudence. The Emperor had disgusted the ambitious prelate, not only by crossing him in his suit for the Popedom, but by denying him the Archbishoprick of Toledo, of which he had once given him no small hopes. And now the Cardinal is resolved to cry quits for both, thinking himself as much affronted in the failure of his expectations as if he had been disgracefully deprived of some present possession. No way more open to his ends than by working on that scruple of conscience which had been raised unto his hand; to the advance whereof the reservedness of the Queen’s behavior, and the inequality of her years, which rendered her the less agreeable to his conversation, gave no small advantage. In which conjuncture it was no hard matter to persuade him unto any way which might give satisfaction to his conscience or content to his fancy, especially if it came accompanied with such a change as promised him the hopes of a son and heir, or, at the least, of a more lawful and unquestioned issue. And then what fitter wife could ‘be found out for him than Madam Rheene, one of the daughters of King Lewis the Twelfth, and sister to the wife of the King then reigning? By which alliance he might be able to justify his separation from the bed of Katherine, not only against Charles her nephew, but against all Kings and Emperors in the Christian world, taking the Pope into the reckoning. A proposition so agreeable to the King’s own-thoughts, (who began to grow weary of his Queen), that he resolved to buy the amity of Francis at any rate; to which end he not only made a league with him against the Emperor, when the condition of the French was almost desperate, but remitted unto Francis a very vast debt, to the value of 500,000 crowns, partly accruing unto him by some former contracts, and partly for the payment of forfeiture incurred by Charles, with which the French had charged himself by the capitulations. 4. And so far matters went on smoothly to the Cardinal’s wish, and possibly might have succeeded in all particulars, had not the plot miscarried by the return of Viscount Rochfort and the planting of Anne Bollen in the court; the admirable attractions of which young lady had drawn the King so fast. unto her, that in short time he gave her an absolute sovereignty over all his thoughts. But so long he concealed his affections from her, that a great league and intercourse was contracted betwixt her and the young Lord Percy, the eldest son of Henry Lord Percy, the fifth Earl of Northumberland of that name and family; who, being brought up in the Cardinal’s service, had many opportunities of confirming an acquaintance with her, when either his own pleasure or his Lord’s affairs occasioned his waiting at the court. But these compliances on both sides neither were, nor probably could be, so closely carried as not to come unto the knowledge of the jealous King, impatient of a rival in his new affections, and yet resolved to carry the business in such a manner as to give no distaste to her whom he so much loved.. The Cardinal is therefore dealt with to remove that obstacle, to which he readily condescended, not looking further at the present into the design but that the King intended to appropriate the young lady to his private pleasures, as he had done many others in the times foregoing. A messenger is thereupon dispatched to the Earl of Northumberland, who, at coming to the court, is informed by the Cardinal how unadvisedly the Lord Percy had entered himself into the affections of Mrs Bollen, one of the daughters of Viscount Rochfort, not only without his father’s privity, but against the express will of the King, who was resolved to dispose otherwise of her. And this he urged upon the strength of an old prerogative, both then and after exercised by the Kings of England, in not permitting any of the nobility to contract marriages and make alliances with one another but by their consents. 5. The old Earl, startled at the news, and fearing nothing more than the King’s displeasure, calls for his son, and presently schools him in this manner: — “Son, (quoth he) even as thou art, and ever hast been, a proud, disdainful, and very unthrifty waster, so hast thou now declared thyself. Wherefore what joy, what pleasure, what comfort, or what solace can I conceive in thee? that thus without discretion hast abused thyself, having neither regard to me, thy natural father, nor to thy natural Sovereign Lord the King, to whom all honest and loyal subjects bear faithful obedience, nor yet to the prosperity of thy own estate; but hast so unadvisedly ensnared thyself to her, for whom thou hast purchased the King’s high displeasure, intolerable for any subject to sustain. And, but that the King doth consider the lightness of thy head, and willful quality of thy person, his displeasure and indignation were sufficient to cast me and all my posterity into utter ruin and destruction. But he, being my singular good Lord and favorable Prince, and my Lord Cardinal my very good friend, hath and doth clearly excuse me in thy lewdness, and doth rather lament thy folly than malign thee, and hath advised an order to be taken for thee; to whom both I and you are more bound than we conceive of. I pray to God that this may be sufficient admonition to thee to use thyself more wisely hereafter. For assure-thyself, if thou dost not amend thy prodigality, thou wilt be the last Earl of our house. For thy natural inclination, thou art wasteful and prodigal, to consume all that thy progenitors have with so great travail gathered, and kept together with honor. But, having the King’s Majesty my singular good Lord, I trust (I assure thee), so to order my succession, that thou shalt consume thereof but a little. For I do not intend, (I tell thee truly), to make thee heir; for (thanks be to God) I have more boys, that I trust will use themselves much better, and prove more like to be wise and honest men, of whom I will choose the most likely to succeed me.” 6. So said the much offended father; and yet not thinking he had done enough for his own security, a marriage is presently concluded for him to the King’s good liking, with the Lady Mary, one of the daughters of George Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury. Mrs Anne Bollen in the mean time is removed by her father from the court, to her no small trouble; who, knowing nothing of the King’s, had willingly admitted the Lord Percy into her affections. And, understanding by him what had past betwixt him and his father, she conceived such a mortal grudge against the Cardinal, (whom she looked on as the only cause of this separation), that she contributed her best assistance to his final ruin. It was about the time when the King’s cause was to be agitated in the Legantine court, that he caused her to be sent for out of the country, to give her attendance on the Queen as in former times; impatient of a longer absence, and fearful of a second rival, if he should any longer conceal his purpose. Which having taken some fit time to disclose unto her, he found in her a virtue of such strength against all temptations, that he resolves, upon the sentencing of the divorce, which he little doubted, to take her to him as the last sole object of his wandering loves. A matter not to be concealed from so many espials as Wolsie had about the King; who thereupon slackeneth his former pace in the King’s affairs, and secretly practiceth with the Pope to recall the commission whereby he was empowered, together with Campegius, to determine in it.

Anne Bollen, formerly offended at his too great haste in breaking the compliance betwixt her and Percy, is now as much displeased with him for his being too slow in sentencing the King’s divorce; on which as she had built the hopes of her future greatness, so she wanted neither will nor opportunity to do him ill offices with the King, whom she exasperates against him upon all occasions. The King grows every day more open in his carriage towards her, takes her along with him in his progress, dines with her privately in her chamber, and causeth almost all addresses to be made by her in matters of the greatest moment. 7. Resolved to break through all impediments which stood betwixt him and the accomplishment of his desires, he first sends back: Campegius, an alien born, presently caused Wolsie to be indicted and attainted in a proemunire, and not long after, by the counsel of Thomas Cromwel, (who formerly had been the Cardinal’s solicitor in his Legantine court), involves the whole body of the clergy in the same crime with him. By the persuasions of this man, he requires the clergy to acknowledge him Supreme Head on earth of the Church of England, to make no new Canons and Constitutions, nor to execute any such when made, but by his consent. And having thus brought his own Clergy under his command, he was the less solicitous how his matters went in the Court of Rome; to which the Pope recalled his cause, which he either quickened or retarded, as rather stood with his own interess than the King’s concernments. The King, being grown more confident in the equity and justice of his cause by the determinations of many of the Universities in France and Italy, better assured than formerly of his own Clergy at home, and wanting no encouragement from the French King to speed the business, advanced the Lady Anne Bollen — (for by this time her father for her sake was made Earl of Wiltshire) — to the title, style, and dignity of Marchioness of Pembroke, on the first of September, 1532, assigning her a pension of a thousand pounds per annum out of the Bishopric of Durham. And now, the time of the intended interview betwixt him and the French King drawing on apace, he takes her along with him unto Calais, where she entertained both Kings at a curious mask. At what time, having some communication about the King’s intended marriage, the French encouraged him to proceed, assuring him that, if the matter should be questioned by the Pope or Emperor, (against whom this must make him sure to the party of France), to assist him with his utmost power, what fortune soever should betide him in it. On which assurance from the French, the marriage is privately made up on the 14th of November then next following, — the sacred rites performed by Dr Rowland Lee, whom afterwards he preferred to the See of Lichfield, and made Lord President of Wales. None present at the nuptials but Archbishop Cranmer, the Duke of Norfolk, the father, mother, and brother of the new Queen, and possibly some other of the confidents of either side, whom it concerned to keep it secret at their utmost peril. 8. But long it could not be concealed. For, finding herself to be with child, she acquaints the King with it, who presently dispatcheth George Lord Rochfort, her only brother, to the court of France, as well to give the King advertisement of his secret marriage, as to desire him not to fail of performing his promises, if occasion were, and therewithal to crave his counsel and advice how it was to be published, since it could not long be kept unknown. It is not to be doubted, but that the French King was well pleased with the news of a marriage which must needs fasten England to the party of France, and that he would be forward enough to perform those promises which seemed so visibly to conduce to his own preservation.

And as for matter of advice, it appeared unnecessary, because the marriage would discover itself by the Queen’s being with child, which could no longer be concealed. And being to be concealed no longer, on Easter Eve, the twelfth of April, she showed herself openly as Queen; all necessary officers and attendants are appointed for her; an order issueth from the parliament at that time sitting, that Katherine should no longer be called Queen, but Princess Dowager. Cranmer, the new Archbishop, repairs to Dunstable, erects his consistory in the priory there, cites Katherine fifteen days together to appear before him, and, in default of her appearance, proceedeth judicially to the sentence, which he reduceth into writing in due form of law, and caused it to be openly published, (with the consent of his colleagues), on Friday the 23rd of May. And On the Sunday sevennight, being then Whitsunday, the new Queen was solemnly crowned by the said Archbishop; conducted by water from Greenwich to the Tower of London, May 29th, from thence through the chief streets of the City unto Westminster Hall, May 31st, and the next day from Westminster Hall to the Abbey Church, to receive the Crown; a solemn tilting before the Court-gate on the morrow after. All which was done with more magnificence and pomp than ever had been seen before on the like occasion; the particulars whereof, he that lists to see, may find them punctually set down in the Annals of John Stow, fol. 563, 564, etc. 9. And he may find there also the solemnities used at the christening of the Princess Elizabeth, born upon Sunday, the 7th day of September, and christened on the Wednesday following, with a pomp not much inferior to the coronation: her godfather being the Archbishop of Canterbury, her godmothers, the old Duchess of Norfolk and the old Marchioness of Dorset; by whom she was named Elizabeth, according to the name of the grandmothers on either side. Not long after Christmas then next following began the parliament, in which the King’s marriage with the Lady Katherine was declared unlawful; her daughter the Lady Mary, to be illegitimate; the Crown to be entailed on the King’s heirs males, to be begotten on the body of the present Queen, and, for default of such issue, on the Princess Elizabeth; an oath devised in maintenance of the said succession; and not long after, Moor and Fisher executed (as before was said) for the refusal of that oath. The King’s cause all this while depended in the Court of Rome, — not like to be determined for him, and yet the Pope not willing to declare against him, till by the solicitation of the Emperor, and for the vindication of the honor of the see apostolic, he seemed to be necessitated to some acts of rigor, which at last proved the total ruin of his power and party in the realm of England. 10. For the new Queen, considering that the Pope and she had such different interesses that they could not both subsist together, resolved upon that course which nature and sell preservation seemed to dictate to her. lint, finding that the Pope’s was too well entrenched to be dislodged upon a sudden, it was advised by Cromwel, (made Master of the Rolls on her commendation), to begin with taking in the outworks first; which being gained, it would be no hard matter to beat him out of his trenches. In order whereunto a visitation is begun in the month of October, 1535, in which a diligent inquiry was to be made in all abbeys, priories, and nunneries within the kingdom; Cromwel himself, Dr Lee, and others, being named for Visitors. Who, governing themselves according to certain instructions of their own devising, dismissed all such religious persons as were under the age of twenty-four, or otherwise were willing to relinquish their several houses, shutting up such from going out as were not willing to accept the benefit of that permission: all such religious persons as departed thence, to be gratified by the Abbot or Prior with a Priest’s gown, and forty shillings in money; and all nuns to be put in a secular habit, and suffered to go where they would. They took order also, that no men should go into the houses of women, nor women into the houses of men, but only for the hearing of divine service; — making thereby that course of life less pleasing unto either sex than it had been formerly. They also inventoried, or else directly took away, the relics and chief jewels out of most of the said monasteries or religious houses, — pretending that they took them for the King’s use, but possibly keeping them for their own. And having made a strict and odious inquisition into the lives of all the votaries of both sexes, they returned many of them guilty of exorbitant lusts, and much carnal uncleanness; representing their offenses in such multiplying glasses as made them seem both greater in number, and more horrid in nature, than indeed they were. And in the February following was held a parliament, in which all monasteries, priories, and other religious houses under the yearly value of 200l . were granted unto the King and his heirs for ever. 11. The number of the houses then suppressed were said to be 376, their yearly rents then valued at the sum of thirty two thousand pounds and upwards, their moveable goods, as they were sold at Robin Hood’s pennyworths, amounting to one hundred thousand pounds and more. The religious persons thus despoiled of their estates either betook themselves to some of the greater houses of their several orders, or went again into the world, and followed such secular businesses as were offered to them towards the getting of their livings. Much lamentation made in all parts of the country, for want of that relief and sustenance which the poor of all sorts received daily from their hospitality, and for want of that employment which they found continually in and about those houses, in their several trades; insomuch that it was commonly thought, that more than ten thousand persons, as well masters as servants, had lost their livelihoods by that act of suppression. To the passing whereof the Bishops and the Mitered Abbots, which made the prevalent part of the House of Peers, contributed their votes and suffrages as the other did; whether it were out of pusillanimity, as not daring to appear in behalf of their brethren, or out of a weak hope that the rapacity of the Queen and her Ministers would proceed no farther, it is hard to say. Certain it is, that by their improvident assenting to the present grant they made a rod for their own backs, (as the saying is), with which they were sufficiently scourged within few years after, till they were all finally whipped out of the kingdom, though the new Queen, for whose sake Cromwel had contrived the plot, did not live to see it. 12. For such is the uncertainty of human affairs, that when she thought herself most safe and free from danger, she became most obnoxious to the ruin prepared for her. It had pleased God on the 8th of January to put an end unto the calamities of the virtuous but unfortunate Queen into whose bed she had succeeded; the news whereof she entertained with such contentment, that she caused herself to be appareled in lighter colors than was agreeable to the season or the sad occasion. Whereas if she had rightly understood her own condition, she could not but have known that the long life of Katherine was to be her best preservative against all changes, which the King’s loose affections, or any other alterations in affairs of state, were otherwise like to draw upon her. But this contentment held not long; for in three weeks after she fell in travail, in which she miscarried of a son, to the extreme grief of the mother, and discontent of the father, who looked upon it as an argument of God’s displeasure, as being as much offended at this second marriage as he was at the first. He then began to think of his ill fortune with both his wives, — both marriages subject to dispute, and the legitimation of his daughter Elizabeth as likely to be called in question in the time succeeding as that of Mary in the former. He must, therefore, cast about for another wife, of whose marriage and his issue by her there could arise no controversy, or else must die without an heir of his own body, or leave the crown to be contended for by those, who, though they were of his own body, could not be his heirs. His eye had carried him to a gentlewoman in the Queen’s attendance, of extraordinary beauty and superlative modesty; on the enjoying of whom he so fixed his thoughts, that he had quite obliterated all remembrance of his former loves. As resolute, but more private, in this pursuit than he was in the former; yet not so private but that the Queen — (so piercing are the eyes of love and jealousy) — had took notice of it, and signified her suspicions to him; of which more anon. 13. In the mean time she was not wanting in all those honest arts of love, obsequiousness, and entertainment, which might endear her to the King; who now began to be as weary of her gaieties and jocular humor as formerly of the gravity and reservedness of Katherine. And causing many eyes to observe her actions, they brought him a return of some particulars which, he conceived, might give him a sufficient ground to proceed upon.

The Lord Rochfort, her own brother, having some suit to obtain by her of the King, was found whispering to her on her bed when she was in it; which was interpreted for an act of some great dishonor done or intended to the King, as if she had permitted him some farther liberties than were consistent with the innocent familiarity between brothers and sisters. In the aggravating whereof with all odious circumstances, none was more forward than the Lady Rochfort herself, — whether out of any jealousy which she had of her husband, or whether out of some inveterate hatred which she had to the Queen, (according to the peccant humor of most sisters-in-law) — is not clearly known. It was observed also that Sir Henry Norris, Groom of the Stole unto the King, had entertained a very dear affection for her, not without giving himself some hopes of succeeding in the King’s bed, (as Sir Thomas Seimour after did), if she chanced to survive him. And it appears that she had given him opportunity to make known his affections, and to acquaint her with his hopes, which she expressed by twitting him in a frolic humor with “looking after dead men’s shoes.” Weston and Breerton, both gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, were observed also to be very diligent in their services and addresses to her, which were construed rather to proceed from love than duty, though no reciprocation could be found to proceed from her, but what was agreeable to that affability and general debonairness which she showed to all men. 14. Out of these premises, weak and imperfect though they were, the King resolves to come to a conclusion of his aims and wishes. A solemn tilting was maintained at Greenwich on the first of May, at which the King and Queen were present, the Lord Rochfort and Sir Henry Norris being principal challengers. The Queen by chance let fall her handkerchief, which was taken up by one of her supposed favorites which stood underneath her window, whom the King perceived to wipe his face with it. This taken by the King to be done of purpose, and thereupon he leaves the Queen and all the rest to behold the sports, and goeth immediately in great haste to Westminster, to the no small amazement of all the company, but the Queen especially. Rochfort and Norris are committed to the Tower on the morrow after; to which unfortunate place the Queen herself, on the same day, was conducted by Sir Thomas Audley, Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Norfolk, Cromwel, then Master of the Rolls and principal Secretary, and Kingston, Lieutenant of the Tower. Informed by them upon the way of the King’s suspicions, she is said to have fallen upon her knees, and with dire imprecations to have disavowed the crime, (whatsoever it were), wherewith she was charged; — beseeching God so to regard her as the justness of her cause required. After which, William Breerton, Esquire, and Sir Francis Weston, of the King’s Privy Chamber, together with Mark Smeton one of the King’s musicians, were committed on the same occasion. 15. These persons being thus committed, and the cause made known, the next care was to find sufficient evidence for their condemnation. It was objected that the Queen, growing out of hope of having any issue male by the King, had used the company of the Lord Rochfort, Norris, Breerton and Weston, and possibly of Smeton also; involving her at once in no smaller crimes than those of adultery and incest. For proof whereof, there was no want of any artifices, in sifting, canvassing, and entangling, not only the prisoners themselves, but all such witnesses of either sex as were thought fit to be examined by the King’s commissioners; from none of which they were able to get anything by all their arts which might give any ground for their conviction; but that Mark Smeton had been wrought on to make some confession of himself to her dishonor, out of a vain hope to save his own life by the loss of hers. Concerning which, Cromwell thus writes unto the King, after the prisoners had been thoroughly examined in the Tower by the Lords of the Council: — “ Many things” (saith he) “have been objected, but nothing confessed; only some circumstances have been acknowledged by Mark.” To which effect, and other the particulars before remembered, take here a letter written by Sir Edward Baynton to Sir William Fitzwilliams, being then Treasurer of the household, and not long after raised unto the style and title of Earl of Southampton. “Mr Treasurer, “THIS shall be to advertise you, that here is much communication, that no man will confess anything against her at all, but Mark, of any actual thing. Wherefore in my foolish conceit it should much touch the King’s honor if it should no further appear. And I cannot believe but that the other two be as far culpable as ever was he; and I think assuredly the one keepeth the others’ counsel, as many conjectures in my mind causeth me to think, and especially of the communication that was last between the Queen, Mr. Norris, Mr.

Amner, and me; as I would, if I might speak with Mr Secretary and you together, more plainly express my mind. If the case be that they have confessed (like witnesses) all things as they should do, then the matter is at a point. I have mused much at the manner of Mistress Margery, which hath used herself so strangely towards me of late, being her friend so much as I have been. But no doubt it cannot be chosen but she must be of counsel therewith: for there hath been great friendship between the Queen and her of late. I hear further, that the Queen standeth stiffly in her opinion, that she will die in it, which I think is in the trust that she hath of the other two.

But if your business be such as you cannot come, I would gladly come and wait on you, if you think it requisite.” 16. It appears also by a letter of Sir William Kingston’s, that he had much communication with her when she was his prisoner, in which her language seemed to be broken and distressed ‘betwixt tears and laughter, out of which nothing could be gathered, but that she exclaimed against Norris, as if he had accused her. It was further signified in that letter, that she named some others, who had obsequiously applied themselves to her love and service, acknowledging such passages, though not sufficient to condemn her, as showed she had made use of the utmost liberty which could be honestly allowed her. Most true it is, (as far as any truth can be collected from common and credible reports) that Norris, being much favored by the King, was offered pardon for his life, if he would confess the crimes which he was accused of. To which he made this generous answer, “That in his conscience he thought her guiltless of the crimes objected, but, whether she were or no, he could not accuse her of anything; and that he had rather undergo a thousand deaths than betray the innocent.” So that upon the point there was no evidence against her, but the confession of Smeton, and the calumnies of the Lady, Rochfort, — of which the one was fooled into that confession by the hope of life, which notwithstanding was not pardoned; and the other most deservedly lost her head within few years after for being accessory to the adulteries of Queen Katherine Howard. And yet upon this evidence she was arraigned in the great hall of the Tower of London on the 15th of May, and pronounced guilty by her Peers, of which her own father (which I cannot but behold as an act of the highest tyranny) was compelled to be one. The Lord Rochfort and the rest of the prisoners were found guilty also, and: suffered death on the 17th day of the same month, all of them standing stoutly to the, Queen’s and their own integrity; as it was thought that Smeton would also have done, but that he still flattered himself with the hopes of life, till the loss of his head disabled him from making the retractation. The like death suffered by the Queen on the second day after; — some few permitted to be present, rather as witnesses than spectators of her final end. And it was so ordered by the advice of Sir William Kingston, who signified in his letters to one of the council, that he conceived it best that a reasonable number only should be present at the execution, because he found by some discourse which he had had with her, that she would declare herself to be a good woman for all men but for the King, at the hour of death. Which declaration she made good, going with great cheerfulness to the scaffold, praying most heartily for the King, and standing constantly on her innocence to the very last. 17. So died this great and gallant lady, — one of the most remarkable mockeries and disports of fortune which these last ages have produced: raised from the quality of a private lady to the bed of a King, crowned on the throne, and executed on the scaffold; the fabric of her power and glories being six years at the least in building, but cast down in an instant; the splendor and magnificence of her coronation seeming to have no other end but to make her the more glorious sacrifice at the next alteration of the King’s affections. But her death was not the only mark which the King did aim at; if she had only lost her head, though with the loss of her honor, it would have been no bar to her daughter Elizabeth from succeeding her father in the throne: and he must have his bed left free from all such pretensions, the better to draw on the following marriage. It was thought necessary, therefore, that she should be separated, from his bed by some other means than the axe or sword, and to be legally divorced from her in a court of judicature, when the sentence of death might seem to have deprived her of all means, as well as of all manner of desire, to dispute the point. Upon which ground Norris is practiced with to confess the adultery, and the Lord Percy (now Earl of Northumberland), — who was known to have made love unto her in her former times, — to acknowledge a contract. But as Norris gallantly denied the one, so the Lord Percy could not ‘be induced (though much labored to it) to confess the other. For proof whereof we have this letter of his own handwriting, directed to Secretary Cromwell in these following words. “MR SECRETARY, “This shall be to signify unto you, that I perceive by Sir Raynald Carnaby, that there is supposed to be a pre-contract between the Queen and me. Whereupon I was not only examined upon my oath before the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, but also received the blessed sacrament upon the same before the Duke of Norfolk, and others of the King’s Highness’ Council, learned in the spiritual law; assuring you, Mr Secretary, by the said oath and blessed Body which afore I received, and hereafter mean to receive, that the same may be to my damnation, if ever there were any contract or promise of marriage betwixt her and me. At Newington Green, the 13th of May, in the twenty-eighth year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord King Henry the Eighth.

Yours assured, H. NORTHUMBERLAND .” 18. But notwithstanding these denials, and that neither the adultery was confessed nor the contract proved, some other ground was found out to dissolve the marriage; though what it was doth not appear upon record. All which occurs in reference to it is a solemn instrument under the seal of Archbishop Cranmer, by which the marriage is declared, (on good and valuable reasons), to be null and void, no reason being expressed particularly for the ground thereof. Which sentence was pronounced at Lambeth, on the 17th of May, in the presence of Sir Thomas Audley, Lord Chancellor, Charles Duke of Suffolk, John Earl of Oxon, Robert Earl of Sussex, William Lord Sandys, Lord Chancellor of his Majesty’s household, Thomas Cromwel, Master of the Rolls and principal Secretary, then newly put into the office of Vicar-General, Sir William Fitzwilliams, Treasurer, and Sir William Paulet, Controller of the King’s household, Thomas Bedil, Archdeacon of Cornwall, and John Trigunwel, Doctor of the Laws, — all being of the Privy Council. Besides which, there were present also John Oliver, Dean of King’s College in Oxon, Richard Guent, Archdeacon of London and Dean of the Arches, Edmond Bonner, Archdeacon of Leicester, Richard Leighton, Archdeacon of Buckingham, and Thomas Lee, Doctor of the Laws; as also Dr Richard Sampson, Dean of the Chapel-Royal, who appeared as Proctor for the King, together with Doctor Nicholas Wotton and Doctor John Barbour, appointed Proctors for the Queen. By the authority of which great appearance, more than for any thing contained particularly in the act or instrument, the said sentence of divorce was approved by the Prelates and Clergy assembled in their Convocation on the ninth of June, and being so confirmed by them, it received the like approbation by Act of Parliament within few days after; in which Act there also passed a clause, which declared the Lady Elizabeth, (the only issue of this marriage), to be illegitimate. What else concerns this unfortunate lady, together with some proof of divers things before delivered, cannot be more pathetically expressed than by herself, be moaning her misfortunes to the King, in this following letter. “Sir, “Your Grace’s displeasure and my imprisonment are things so strange unto me, as what to write, or what to excuse, I am altogether ignorant. Whereas you send unto me, (willing me to confess a truth, and so obtain your favor), by such an one whom you know to be my ancient professed enemy, I no sooner received this message, than I rightly conceived your meaning: and if, (as you say), confessing a truth indeed may procure my safety, I shall with all willingness and duty perform your commands. But let not your Grace ever imagine that your poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a fault, where not so much as a thought ever proceeded. And to speak a truth, never Prince had never wife more loyal in all duty, and in all true affection than you have ever found in Anne Bollen. With which name and place I could willingly have contented myself, if God and your Grace’s pleasure had so been pleased. Neither did I at any time [so far] forget myself in my exaltation or received Queenship, but that I looked always for such an alteration as now I find; the ground of my preferment being on no surer foundation than your Grace’s fancy, the least alteration whereof, I knew, was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some other subject. “You have chosen me from a low estate to be your Queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire. If then you found me worthy of such honor, good your Grace let not any light fancy, or bad counsel of my enemies, withdraw your princely favor from me; neither let that stain, that unworthy stain of a disloyal heart towards your good Grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and the infant Princess, your daughter. Try me, good King, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and judges; yea let me receive an open trial, for my truth shall fear no open shames; then shall you see either my innocence cleared, your suspicion and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and slander of the world stopped, or my guilt openly dedared.

So that whatsoever God or you may determine of me, your Grace may be freed from an open censure; and my offense being so lawfully proved, your Grace is at liberty both before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me as an unfaithful wife, but to follow your affection already settled on that party for whose sake I am now as I am; whose name I could some [good] while since have pointed to, your Grace being not ignorant of my suspicion therein. But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my death, but an infamous slander, might bring you the enjoying of a desired happiness, then I desire of God that he will pardon your great sin herein, and likewise my enemies, the instruments thereof; and that he will not call you to a strict account for your unprincely and cruel usage of me, at his general judgment seat, where both you and myself must shortly appear, and in whose [just] judgment I doubt not, whatsoever the world may think of me, my innocency shall be openly known, and sufficiently cleared. “My last and only request shall be, that my self may [only] bear the burthen of your Grace’s displeasure, and that it may not touch the innocent souls of those poor gentlemen who, as I understand, are [likewise] in strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I have found favor in your sight, if ever the name of Anne Bollen hath been pleasing in your ears, [then] let me obtain this last request, and I will so leave to trouble your Grace any further, with my earnest prayers to the Trinity, to have you in his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions.

Your most loyal and [ever] faithful wife, ANNE BOLLEN.” “From my doleful prison in the Tower, May the 6th, 1536.” 19. I had not dwelt so long upon the story of this Queen, but that there is so much which depends upon it in reference to the honor, birth, and title of the Princess Elizabeth; whose reign of forty-four years, accompanied with so many signal blessings both at home and abroad, is used by some for a strong argument of her mother’s innocence. For further proof whereof they behold the King’s precipitate and hasty marriage, casting himself into the bed of a third, before the sword was dried from the blood of his second wife. But of these miseries and calamities which befell her mother, the Princess was too young (as not being fully three years old) to take any notice. And when she came unto the years of understanding, she had been much sweetened and repaired by her Father’s goodness: by whose last will she was assured of her turn in the succession to the Crown, if her brother and sister died without lawful issue; allowed the same yearly maintenance, and allotted the same portion in marriage, with the Princess Mary. But nothing more declares his good affection to her, than the great care he took of her education: committed to the government and tuition of Roger Ascham, a right learned man, she attained unto the knowledge of the Greek and Latin; and by the help of other schoolmasters, of the modern languages. Insomuch that she very well understood the Greek, and was able readily to express herself in the Latin tongue; as appears by an oration which she made at her entertainment in Cambridge, and the smart answer which she gave extempore to a Polish Ambassador, of which we may hear more in their proper place. And as for the Italian and the French, she spoke them with as much facility and elegance as if they had been natural to her. And if sometimes she made use of interpreters when she conversed with the Embassadors of foreign princes, it rather was to keep her state than that she could not entertain discourse with them in their proper languages. Her person may be best known by her pictures, and the perfection’s of her mind by her following Government. Suffice it in this place to know, that she seemed to be made up of modesty and majesty in an equal mixture; and was so moderate in the course and carriage of her desires, that King Edward (who took much delight in her conversation) used commonly to call her his Sister Temperance. 20. Yet notwithstanding all these personal graces, I do not find that she was sought in marriage in the time of King Henry; the blots of infamy which had been laid upon her mother serving as a bar to her preferment amongst foreign princes, in the beginning of King Edward’s, she was aimed at by Sir Thomas Seimour, a brother of the Lord Protector Somerset’s, for the advancing of his lofty and ambitious projects; and in the latter end thereof, propounded to the eldest son of the King of Denmark. But it was propounded only, and not pursued, — whether neglected by that King for the former reason, or intermitted by her own averseness from marriage, we are yet to seek. But in the first year of Queen Mary, she was desired by Edward Courtney Earl of Devonshire, the eldest son of Henry Marquess of Exeter, descending from a daughter of King Edward the Fourth; which proved so much to the displeasure of the Queen, that it became dangerous to both of them, as was showed before. For notice of the Queen’s displeasure having been took by some of great place about her, they were both drown into suspicion of being privy at the least unto Wyat’s rebellion, (raised on the noise of the Queen’s marriage with the Prince of Spain); both of them clapped up in prison upon that account, and so detained for a long time, though both acquitted publicly by Wyat at the time of his death. 21. But nothing so much alienated the Queen’s affection from her, as the difference which was between them in the cause of religion, occasioned and continued by their several interests. For it concerned Queen Mary to maintain the Pope and his religion, her mother’s marriage not being otherwise to be defended as good and lawful but by his authority; which marriage, if by his authority made good and lawful, then must the marriage of Anne Bollen be made unlawful, and consequently the Princess Elizabeth must actually be made illegitimate by the same authority. Upon which point, as the Queen labored nothing more than the restoring of the Pope to that supremacy of which he had been deprived by the two last Kings; so kept she a hard hand upon her sister, as of a different religion from her, the visible head of the Protestant party in the kingdom, and one whom she suspected to have more hearts amongst the subjects than she had herself.

Upon the first surmise of her being privy to Wyat’s conspiracy, Sir Edward Hastings and some others were sent to bring her to the Court from her house at Ashridge, where though they found her extremely sick and unfit for travel, yet they compelled her to go with them on the morrow after. Being come unto the Court, she was first kept prisoner in her chamber for the space of a fortnight, — neither permitted to come to the Queen’s presence, nor suffered without much difficulty to write unto her.

Charged by the Bishop of Winchester and some other lords with Wyat’s practices, she stoutly stood on the denial, professing her fidelity and loyalty to the Queen her sister. Which notwithstanding she was conveyed by water, on the Sunday commonly called Palm Sunday, to the Tower of London, the people being commanded to keep their churches, for fear she might be rescued and took from them who were to have the conduct of her; by whom compelled to land at the private stairs, generally called the Traitor’s Stairs, she openly affirmed, that “there landed as true a subject, being a prisoner, as ever landed in that place;” and so was brought unto the lodgings appointed for her, all doors being locked and bolted on her, to her great amazement. Gage, Constable of the Tower, and at that time Lord Chamberlain also, was her bitter enemy, but more for love to the Pope than for hate to her person, and did not only place a strong guard about her, but suffered none but those of that ragged regiment to carry up her diet to her. Of which complaint being made to him by some of her servants, he threatened to lay them in such a place where they should neither see the sun nor moon, if they troubled him any more about it; though afterwards it was otherwise ordered by the Lords of the Council. 22. Wearied with the closeness of her imprisonment, she moved the Lord Chandois and the Lord Chamberlain, — the one of which was Constable, and the other Lieutenant of the Tower, that she might have the liberty of walking in the private garden, or, at the least, in the Queen’s lodgings, for her better health. In which, not able to gratify her by their own authority, the Lord Chandois obtained leave of the Lords of the Council that she might walk in the Queen’s lodgings, himself, the Lord Chamberlain, and three of the Queen’s gentlewomen, being still in her company. Permitted afterwards to enjoy the benefit of the private garden, the doors were always shut upon her, and order given that no prisoners should be suffered by their keepers to look out of the windows so long as she was walking in it. Such care there was to hinder all access unto her, and opportunity of conference with her, that a little boy of four years old was threatened to be whipped for presenting her with flowers and nosegays, and a command given by Gage that the boy’s father should keep him at home, and not suffer him to come thither any more. But the Tower being thought to be no safe prison for a person of such eminent quality, by reason of its nearness to the capital city, and the great number of prisoners which were kept therein, she was committed to the custody of Sir Henry Bedingfield, a man of an untractable and rugged nature, by whom she was conducted with a guard of soldiers to the Manor of Woodstock: which journey she began on the 19th of May, being Trinity Sunday, and ended by short and easy stages on the Thursday after; her own servants sometimes sequestered from her by command of her jailor, (as she commonly called him), the people sometimes rated and reviled by him for flocking to see her as she passed, and the Lord Williams, though associated in commission with him, openly quarreled and reproached for giving her noble entertainment at his house of Ricolt. Being brought to Woodstock, she was kept under many locks and bolts, a guard of ruffians continually attending before her doors, and the keys every night brought up to Bedingfield, who suffered no access unto her upon any occasion. Which being made known to the Lord Williams, he solicited the Queen that she might be prisoner in his house, and offered to be surety for her, and was in such a fair way of obtaining his suit, that he caused preparations to be made for her reception; but either by the interposition of the Bishop of Winchester, her most mortal enemy, or the solicitation of Bedingfield, who possibly might have some other end to work upon her, no effect followed answerable to that expectation. 23. About this time she was advised by some of her friends to submit herself unto the Queen, which they conceived would be very well taken, and redound much both to her benefit and contentment. To which she answered, that she would never make any submission to them against whom she never had offended in word or deed; adding withal, that, if she were guilty of any such offense, she would crave no mercy but the law, which she was sure she should have had before that time, if any thing could have been proved against her by her greatest enemies. Only she was persuaded to make a suit to the Lords of the Council, that she might be suffered to write a letter to the Queen; — not gratified without much difficulty in that easy suit, nor otherwise gratified at all, but that Berlingfield was to stand by her all the time she writ, and have the keeping of her papers till she came to an end, and to be made privy to the conveyance of those letters when they once were written. At her first coming to the Tower, she had a Priest appointed to say mass in her chamber; but whether the same Priest or any other was appointed for the like office at her being at Woodstock, I find not in the story of her life and troubles. Certain it is, that she resorted to the mass both before and after, and seemed not a little discontented that she could not gain so much upon the Queen by her outward conformity, as to believe that she was Catholicly affected. But the Queen was not the only one who believed so of her, though she behaved herself so warily as not to come within the danger of the laws for acting any thing in opposition unto that religion which was then established. Concerning which there goes a story, that when a popish Priest had urged her very earnestly to declare her judgment touching the presence of Christ in the blessed Sacrament, she very cautiously resolved the point in these following verses: — “‘Twas God the Word that spoke it, He took the bread and brake it, And what, the Word did make it, That I believe and take it.” 24. But all this caution notwithstanding, her averseness from the Church of Rome was known sufficiently not to be altered while she lived, and therefore she to live no longer to be the occasion of continual fears and jealousies to the Catholic party. The times were then both sharp and bloody, and a great persecution was designed against the Protestants in all parts of the kingdom. At what time Bishop Gardiner was heard to say, that it was to no purpose to cut off the boughs and branches, if they did not also lay the axe to the root of the tree. More plainly the Lord Paget, in the hearing of some of the Spaniards, “That the King should never have a quiet government in England, if her head were not stricken off from her shoulders.” With which the King being made acquainted, he resolved to use his best endeavor, not only to preserve her life, but obtain her liberty; for he considered with himself, that, if the Princess should be taken away, the right of the succession would remain in the Queen of Scots, who, being married to the Daulphin of France, would be a means of joining this kingdom unto that, and thereby gain unto the French the sovereignty or supreme command above all other Kings in Europe. He considered also with himself that the Queen was not very healthy, — supposed at that time to be with child, but thought by others of more judgment not to be like to bring him any children to succeed in the Crown, — and hoped by such a signal favor to oblige the Princess to accept him for her husband, on the Queen’s decease; by means whereof he might still continue master of the treasures and strength of England in all his wars against the French, or any other nation which maligned the greatness of the Austrian family.

Upon which grounds he dealt so effectually with the Queen, that order was given about a fortnight after Easter to the Lord Williams and Sir Henry Berlingfield to bring their prisoner to the Court; which command was not more cheerfully executed by the one, than stomached and repined at by the other. Being brought to Hampton Court, where the Queen then lay, she was conducted by a back way to the Prince’s lodgings, where she continued a fortnight and more without being seen or sent to by any body, Berlingfield and his guards being still about her; so that she seemed to have changed the place, but not the prison, and to be so much nearer danger, by how much she was nearer unto those who had power to work it. At last a visit was bestowed upon her, but not without her earnest, suit in that behalf, by the Bishop of Winchester, Lord Chancellor, the Earls of Arundel and Shrewsbury, and Sir William Petre; whom she right joyfully received, desiring them to be a means unto the Queen that she might be freed from that restraint under which she had been kept so long together. 25. Which being said, the Bishop of Winchester, kneeling down, besought her to submit herself unto the Queen, that being, as he said, the only probable expedient to effect her liberty. To whom she answered as before, that, rather than she would betray her innocence by such submission, she would be content to lie in prison all the days of her life. “For by so doing,” (said she), “I must confess myself to be an offender, which I never was against her Majesty, in thought, word, or deed; and where no just offense is given, there needs no submission.” Some other overtures being made to the same effect, but all unto as little purpose, she is at last brought before the Queen, (whom she had not seen in more than one year before), about ten of the dock at night; before whom falling on her knees, she desired God to preserve her Majesty, — not doubting, as she said, but that she should prove herself to be as good a subject to her Majesty as any other whosoever, Being first dealt with by the Queen to confess some offense against herself, and afterwards to acknowledge her imprisonment not to be unjust, she absolutely refused the one, and very handsomely declined the other. So that no good being to be gotten on her on either hand, she was dismissed with some uncomfortable words from the present interview, and about a week after was discharged of Berlingfield and his guard of soldiers.