By the king's command

Front matter

v\

i;V ft A

II l ;

Preface

The life and character of Anne Boleyn, the second wife of King Henry VIII., of England, has met with harsh treatment at the hands of contemporary writers, and writers in general.

The Protestant Reformation in England, being in its initial period, during her short life, and she inclining towards a Reformation of existing abuses that in her rising exalted position, she saw around her, brought upon her hatred from the strong prelatic party in power.

The Reforming element of the English protesters being weak, Anne had but feeble backing; and her fate is one which would have been better had she not shown any Reforming tendencies.

There is a strange and wonderful romance attaching to her brief reign, as queen of England. Seven years of pursuit and courtship filled with romantic incidents that ended with her marriage.

Seven years, keeping a monarch, as bluff, and hale, and wilful, as King Henry VIII. away from her. These seven years cover the period of this volume.

The foundation of all the historic incidents related, are true, and the writer has tried to make alive, the period of her courtship, to her marriage. If this volume is. enjoyed by the reading public, and lovers of true historic romance, another work may follow, that will bring the ill-fated queen to the block ; and on which volume the writer, is now working. May this afford you the same pleasure in reading, as it has me in writing it.

Very truly yours, R. D.

Ponca, Nebraska.

CONTENTS,

CHAPTER I. page

How the Bells Rang Out Queen Anne’s Coronation 321

Chapter I. The Diana Fountain And Lake

It is one of June’s most glorious mornings, in the year of our Lord 1526, as I, Master Thomas Wyatt, a gentleman of his Majesty’s privy chamber, comes riding along my Lord Cardinal Wolsey’s avenue at Hampton Court Palace, to meet my good friend Lord Henry Percy, heir to the Earl of Northumberland, and the favorite young gentleman attendant of his Eminence, the great Cardinal Lord High Chancellor of England.

As I turn into the rose garden that leads directly to the palace, I see Percy coming to meet me, for he has been looking out for me. Leaping from my horse I leave it to my servant’s care, and catch my friend’s outstretched hands that clasp mine with a fervor that I like, as he is my warm hearted friend and brother of my soul, and the man I most regard and love in all the wide world.

“I am glad to see you! Welcome to Hampton Court, Thomas.”

“It is good to be with you, Percy! His Majesty hath dismissed me from attendance until his arrival, so I am fortunate at having a few days’ grace from handling clothes and dancing attendance on his Highness. But who have arrived ? And where am I to lodge ? And shall we have much time together, think you, to unlock each other’s hearts?”

By the King’s Command.

“Not so fast, or I cannot remember to answer yon. As the palace will be crowded, what say yon to lodging with me ?”

“That snits me well,” I exclaim heartily.

“Many hath arrived, and among them, Mistress Anne Boleyn, who hath lately returned from France.”

“Why, that is my dainty and wilful little playfellow of long ago, who used to order me around at Norwich Castle, when we were children together. I have not seen her for a number of years.”

“You will be surprised and pleased when you see her, for she is a dainty maiden to look upon, and hath a most queenly manner.”

“She always had, Percy. But ”

“Oh, yes ! I was going to say that his Eminence is not here, so I have a little liberty, and if you wish, let us to the quadrangle, where the young damsels and gallants are, for we are going to see the Diana fountain.”

Passing through one of the great archways of the palace, we come out into a large quadrangle, where a number of young damsels and gallants are seen in animated convert sation.

“You were a long time gone, my lord, but I see you have brought with you a lover of the Muses, which is appropriate, as this is a veritable poet’s paradise,” Mistress Anne Saville says, smiling at me. And here I suppose I should admit that I believe Mistress Saville favors me somewhat, but I do not like it very well. I think the young gallants should make the advances in courting, and not the young damsels, as sweets are best when difficult to attain. But Mistress Saville is a comely maiden, and I would challenge the man who would dare say otherwise.

“An abodte for goddesses,” I say, doffing my bonnet, and bowing low to them all, but particularly to one that I see is my playmate of long ago. But so altered ! So charming! I really can scarcely believe my eyes, that before me stands my wilful, yet dear childhood friend, Anne Boleyn.

She has developed to nearly medium height, and is exquisitely formed. Her hair is a dark golden brown, that

The Diana Fountain and Lake.

in the sunlight looks like shimmering gold. A slender neck supports her beautiful head. She has lustrous black eyes, cherry lips, skin of alabaster whiteness; with the pink of glory blushing through her cheeks, that sets the gallants* hearts to beating, and particularly mine, as I feel the boyish love of long ago leaping and throbbing in my heart, at so beautiful a being that stands before me.

“Good morning, Master Wyatt. I am glad to see you again/* she says in a dainty way. “You are changed since I saw you last, and grown — into — a — Poet?** she says naively, and with an enquiring expression on her face.

“With the same admiration for my childhood friend, who was ever a subject for the Muses,** I answer out of the fulness of my heart.

“Gallantry hath not lost its devotees while Master Wyatt lives. Let us to the fountain, and see a sample of ourselves, for Lord Percy hath promised to shew us the Cardinal*s goddess! Fie! The idea of a Cardinal with a goddess !** she says gaily.

Percy passes quickly between the Lady Mary Talbot and Mistress Boleyn and leads out with them to the fountain, — leaving us to follow, and there is something like jealousy creeps into my heart at seeing him monopolize Mistress Boleyn this way.

Nature is prolific here. The trees have donned their bridal clothes of virgin green, and are at their best. The many haw trees are bursting into bloom with pink and white “May.** The ground on which we are walking is carpeted with velvety moss that gives a spring to the foot in the dense shade of the horse chestnut trees and elms, and the very air seems pregnant with the elixir of buoyant life.

The fountain is a tower shaped column of pure white marble, surmounted with the goddess Diana in golden bronze. At its four corners are water nymphs, all pouring out libations that sparkle and ripple in the sunlight, making an effect of diamonds sprayed over gold and white of an exceeding splendor and beauty. It stands in the centre of a lake, on the bosom of which snowy swans lazily swim in the security of undisturbed repose. Pretty barges with awnings, upholstered in red, with oarsmen

By the King’s Command.

in the livery of my lord Cardinal, await our pleasure, while on the farther lake side a lordly stag leads some gentle does and more timid fawn down to the water’s edge, to sip in dainty style, like lordlings as they are.

“How like you this ?” Percy asks with pleasure.

“A charming spot. One that my Lord Surrey and you, Master Wyatt, would choose for dreamy flights. The goddess is charming, and his Eminence must love maidenly beauty, for all that wet hear of his austerity,” Mistress Boleym says admiringly.

“I feel repaid at bringing you. I thought you would admire his Eminence’s choice, and I assure you he loves beauty,” Percy says.

“May we dare row on the beautiful lake? The pond lilies look in keeping with the goddess’ beauty, and I vow I should like some,” she says enquiringly.

Stepping down into a barge, Percy puts out both his hands to jump her in, but she will not have it so ; for there is something telltale in his glance as he looks at her, that makes her change her thought.

She gives me her hand as she says, “I would approach the vicinity of the goddess under the protection of a devotee of the Muses,” and Percy drops his hands regretfully.

How proud I am as I hold her hand and take her to her seat. Percy says laughingly, though disappointed I am sure, “Thomas, the touch of a live divinity should awake the skill of your poetic pen ! Ah, me ! I am not a poet !”

“I feel thrills within me now. I am forsworn if I meet not your expectations,” I reply gaily.

Anne affects to take no notice of Percy’s flattery, but there is a humorous twinkle in her eyes that lets him know that she has marked what has been said.

Leisurely round the lake we go, and I have eyes only for her, as she hangs her hand in the water and lets the ripples play with a golden ring upon her finger, that looks like a captive sunbeam that she is trailing along.

I cannot help but think of our childish days, when we went hand in hand, and I wish they were here again ; and as T offer her some fragrant pond lilies, I vow life seems charming this way, until T catch the eye of Mistress Saville, that hath a disappointed look. Lady Mary Talbot seems unusually quiet, and not so bright as her wont, and 1 am puzzled.

“What a charming view it is from here,” Lady Mary says to Percy. “We heard of the fame of his Eminence’s palace, but it passes our expectations.”

“His Eminence hath chosen a Christian design, in keeping with his holy office as a prince of the church, for, mark you, it is in the form of a cross,” Mistress Mary Carey, Anne Boleyru’s sister, says.

“It is true, and the lake is the centre. But I question his Grace’s chivalry in sacrificing a goddess upon it,” Anne Saville says.

“Is that how you interpret his Grace’s design? Methinks his Eminence hath chosen her for all that is lovely in woman. Look at the love glistening in her eyes. See how she contributes to the thirsty from her fountains of love, enough to satisfy all comers. For sympathy and love give me the Virgin. I am grateful at his Grace’s suggestion, for virgins were made to love,” and Percy looks at Mistress Boleyn, who says :

“How very poetic ! We had better move from the goddess’ vicinity or Master Wyatt’s mantle will fall upon us all.”

Landing, we pass to the shade of the trees of the great avenue, and before we go further we will take a good look at it.

His Eminence has reclaimed it from the great forest surrounding it. Its gate of entrance is of massive grilled iron-work, set in solid masonry that rises like flanking towers on each side, and are surmounted with couchant lions. It sweeps away for more than a mile in length, one great dense mass of exquisite shade, that in the springtime is unrivalled in the world. The lake lies one-third of its distance, and has branching short avenues to right and left that complete the design.

The horse chestnut trees are laden now with their wealth of bloom, and we pluck them and pelt each other, and the maidens weave chains and take us captive, and we are having a glorious frolic, when a bugle note is heard in the distance, when Percy says, “That is his Grace’s signal.

We must hurry to the palace, for he always likes to be met in the entry .”

Hurrying to the grand entrance, we are joined by the venerable Comptroller of his Grace’s household, Sir Reginald Bray, the Cardinal’s lifelong friend; and soon a stately cavalcade of prelates, nobles, squires and retainers sweep into the broad rideway, and come on to the palace; and at its head is the great Cardinal Wolsey, the most influential man in the realm of his Majesty, King Henry

VIII.

Thomas Wolsejq Bishop of Winchester, Abbot of St. Alban’s, Cardinal “Legatus-de-latere” of England, and Lord High Chancellor, at fifty-five years of age, is still a handsome man. He is tall and vigorous looking, though showing signs of age; the effect of the prodigious amount of work he undertakes and crowds upon himself, and that is crowded on him.

He was born at Ipswich in Suffolk in the year 1471. His parents were humble though respectable people, his father not being a butcher, as slanderous people will say, but a wool grower and merchant, with connections very well to do.

Thomas, being the oldest son, ambitious views were entertained for him, and he was sent to school with the priesthood in view.

He was admitted to Oxford at eleven, gained his B. A. degree at fifteen, afterwards becoming a fellow of Magdalen College and Master of its Grammar School.

At twenty-nine, through the influence of my Lord of Dorset, he was appointed to the living of Lymington in Somersetshire. Later on he was made Chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury. Archbishop Dean dying shortly afterwards, old Sir Reginald Bray, who was then the favored servant of King Henry VIII., obtained for him a Chaplaincy under Sir Richard Nanfan, who was then Deputy Lieutenant of Calais.

The age of Sir Richard caused him to use Wolsey’s services to the extent, that his ability was so marked that he practically had all the work of the deputyship to do. Sir Richard retired later, and good old Sir Reginald again befriended him, and he became one of the King’s Chaplains,

Success followed him in a commission to the Emperor Maximilian. Then other commissions followed, and he rose to be Bishop' of Lincoln in 1514. The same year he became Archbishop of York. The next year he was made Lord Chancellor, then Cardinal “Legatus-de-latere” in England.

As he comes riding along one can see a slight stooping in his shoulders, and a little grey showing in his once jet black hair. But there is a majesty in his person and a command in his eyes that marks him, next to the King, and only next to the King, the arbiter of England. Yes, and even beyond, for the Emperor Charles and King Francis send him annually large pensions, beside many costly and rare presents, that they may court his favor, and through him that of his master.

By the King’s Command.

Chapter II. The Cardinal At Home

The white haired Sir Reginald Bray' is joined at the entrance by a numerous company of nobles and prelates, part of the four or five hundred the Cardinal keeps about him, for his Grace affects the state of a king, much to the jealousy of the great nobles, and they say King Henry is noticing it too.

We join the crowd in the entry and await his Grace. Presently we see the cavalcade come sweeping through “the wilderness” (a part of the unreclaimed forest the Cardinal’s fancy has had left) into the rose garden, which is such a contrast with its exquisite floral loveliness.

His Grace looks with critical eyes at everything as he comes along, and very little escapes him.

On reaching the palace entrance Percy assists him from his horse, and he looks around as one glad to escape state affairs, to enjoy rest in his sylvan home.

“Your arm, Percy,” he says to his favorite, and, “Come, Sir Reginald. Are we ready to entertain their Majesties?”

“Yes, your Grace. I think when their Highnesses arrive they will be pleased at your welcome.”

Coming to where we stand together, he casts his eyes over the group (being familiar with us all, for there are very few that the Cardinal doesn’t know), nodding and speaking to one and another of us, he sees Mistress Anne Boleyn, when he stops and says, “Who is this. Sir Reginald?”

“Sir Thomas Boleyn’s daughter Anne, but just arrived from Queen Claude’s court. But Percy, I think, can tell you more, for I notice the young people affect each other’s company, and rightly, too, I judge, for she is a dainty maid.”

The Cardinal glances quickly at Percy, who reddens under his sharp scrutiny, while Mistress Anne’s cheeks flame red as old Sir Reginald couples their names together; and personally I don’t like it a bit, but then Sir Reginald is an old dotard anyway.

“And so this is Mistress Boleyn whom I have seen in France. I thought I knew the pretty face. Queen Claude hath taken good care of you, for you are promising rich beauty. I am glad to welcome you,” he says, taking her hand, while Mistress Anne makes him a low sweeping curtsey to hide her blushes.

Nodding to me, he says : “Thomas Wyatt, Percy is always happy with you, so you had better come with us.”

I am very pleased to go, and as we pass along the Cardinal asks: “Is Sir Thomas Boleyn here with his daughter?”

“No, your Grace. The Duchess of Norfolk has commanded the presence of Mistress Anne Boleyn, to become one of Queen Katherine’s maids,” Percy says.

“Her Majesty will have a very beautiful flower added to her choice collection. And so the pretty face of Mistress Boleyn hath made the face of the Lady Mary Talbot to dim in thy regard ?” he says to Percy.

“No, your Grace. You are like my father, who will associate the Lady Mary with me, and while I esteem her highly as a friend, I assure you I am yet heart free but for some love I bear your Grace.”

“’Tis well, Percy,” and a pleased smile lights up the face of his Eminence at the admission. “But are you not betrothed to the Lady Mary?”

“Yes, your Grace, but on my part I cannot think it binding; and since I am with you, I believe that is an old matter of my father’s, which he has forgotten.”

“Perhaps he has, but I have seen such matters bring infinite trouble to headstrong youngsters. But that is of no import, though I think the Lady Mary would not say as much, Percy?”

“But, Sir Reginald, what about joust and tournament?” the Cardinal says, running on without waiting for a reply.

By the King’s Command.

“His Majesty must be entertained! Yesterday he was angry because Master Tyndale hath managed to smuggle in several hundred testaments from abroad, and Master Packington of Cheapside hath been distributing them. But my men are tracing the matter out, and I shall crush it. It menaces what I am doing at Oxford in advancing the Hew learning, for when I am dead and gone they may forget me, but scholarship will be enduring, and the schools I am founding, if Holy Mother Church fosters them, will be an enduring monument to my name. And I cannot have them tainted with heresy through such worthless monks as Tyndale.”

“Is he not associated with that pestilent monk, Martin Luther, whom the Elector of Saxony shields?” says Sir Reginald.

“Yes. And I wish I had them both in England. I would put them where I would know they were secure ; but I can punish the dolts that follow their lead and they had better look out. But what about our preparations for Henry ?”

“I have followed your directions, your Grace, and wish you would inspect the same.”

“We will do so to-morrow, eh, Percy? and then I can get better acquainted with your young friend Anne Boleyn. Call Stephen Gardiner to my secretaries’ room, for I have work to do that will keep me till midnight.” Then he says, soliloquizing, “In two days their Majesties will be here, and I must please the King if it costs me this palace. My enemies hate me, and are stirring up his Highness, and he is irritable. Oh, if he were only as amenable as Katherine, I should be ruling myself. But, Master Wyatt, use thy discretion at what thou hearest ; and Percy, you may join your young friends an you wish.”

With a low obeisance, Sir Reginald, Percy and I depart, and the Cardinal busies himself with his secretaries.

“His Grace hath an anxious look. There are deeper matters in his heart than we know of, when he talks of such important affairs,” Sir Reginald says.

“I do not like to see him so worried,” Percy replies considerately.

“His old habit is reserve. Twenty-five years ago I sent

The Cardinal at Home.

him to Sir Richard Hanfan at Calais, but what a man he has become since then ! From a nobleman’s Chaplain he has forged his way to become what many call him, ‘the English Pope.’ They say his Holiness locks his secrets in the cabinet of his breast and never lets them out ; and I am sure our good master usually does, and he must be mightily moved to tell us what he has.”

We take our way to the rose garden, for from the windows we have seen a bevy of young people there.

“Guess what I have brought from the Cardinal?” Percy says.

“What ? what ?” cry many in chorus.

“It must be an invitation, for, see, he has nothing in his hands,” says Anne Saville.

“It is an invitation, but guess what it is!”

“A barge race on the river ?”

“A run in the deer forest?”

“Heroning with our falcons?”

“To see his Grace’s bears perform?” say many all in a breath.

“Ho ! Ho ! Ho ! You have not guessed it.”

“Then tell us quickly, or we shall have to resort to some means to get it from you, we are so inquisitive, and you are cruel to keep us in such a suspense,” says Mistress Carey.

“I am sure under such, a threat I will tell you. To-morrow his Grace invites you all to inspect the preparations that are making for their Majesties’ entertainment, and we are to accompany him. One hundred skilled workmen are to be here this evening, with many new and divers costly things, the like of which has never been seen before in England.”

“Good! I shall then see the tilt-yard,” says George Boleyn.

“Always desirous of seeing the place of vanquishment,” says Anne Saville.

“Yes, vanquishment for the fainthearted, but cheers for the victor.”

“Hark! That is the call to supper. We must in, ladies, and after supper let us meet in the antechamber and play cards,” says Lady Mary.

By the King’s Command.

“And perhaps Mistress Boleyn will shew ns the new French steps,” Percy says.

“How know yon I am acquainted with them ?”

“I hope yon are, and will tench me,” he says earnestly ; too earnestly for my liking.

“Very well, and so it is understood,” says George Boleyn. “Here, Wyatt, sing something and don’t look so earnest.”

Catching hold of my arm, the other gentlemen link arms with ns, and I troll out as we rollick along, all joining in the chorus :

Life is a game of May,

When so it is understood ;

Fragrant, happy and gay ,

When so it is understood.

We borrow not care and sorrow.

We have no trouble to follow.

But love to-day and to-morrow.

And so it is understood.

And so it is understood.

And so it is understood.

We'll die for love of maidens.

And so it is understood.

Throwing our hearts into the chorus, we make the grounds ring with our mirth, until the strains die away in the arches and courts of the palace, and I wonder what the Cardinal must think of such a merry crowd.

In the evening we meet again, and I am not so slow as not to secure Mistress Boleyn as my partner at the card table ; and I surely forestall Percy, as he asked her directly after me, and looked disappointed when she told him that she had promised me.

Anne Saville falls to Percy, and they both play badly; for Mistress Saville plays crossly, perhaps because I did not ask her; and Percy plays as one in a dream, so that they manage to lose every game.

“You are not playing at all at your best, and it is provoking when Mistress Boleyn and Master Wyatt carry off all the honors,” says Anne Saville.

The Cardinal at Home.

“I do not understand it, but Mistress Boleyn must be destined for a queen, for look you, kings just naturally fall into her hand, and with their aid she manages to conquer,” says Percy almost prophetically.

“King or queen, I care not to play more, so let us dance,” says Anne Saville.

“Show us some of the French dances and let me dance with you,” I say quickly.

Consenting, how proudly I lead her out, as she gives her hand to me; and as I have my arms about her, I remember the strength of my boyish love for her in the long ago ; and it seems as if I hold all that is valuable to me in the whole wide world, for my boyish love has increased ten thousand-fold, and I am lost to all but her.

“You dance well, Master Wyatt.”

“How can I do otherwise under such guidance ?”

“You used to flatter me in our baby days, and have not gotten over them.”

“I never shall get over them,” I say most earnestly. But Percy interrupts for her hand to dance with him, when George Boleyn says, “Show us some of the French dances, Anne,” and I am glad, for I do not want Percy to dance with her.

Percy leads her to the centre of the room, Mark Smeaton strikes up a lively tune, and then she surprises us all. Her feet scarcely touch the floor; she seems to float birdlike in the intricacies of the dance, and as she finishes we applaud loudly.

“In faith, Anne, that was divine,” George says.

“There is no hope for any of us, for Mistress Boleyn hath captured the dancing fay,” I say.

“I shall only accept such praise on condition that you give me a song in return presently.”

“May I be as inspired with the goddess of song, as thou art with the spirit of the dance,” I reply.

Percy comes to her and says, “Will you not give me one dance with you?”

He says it withal so earnestly that she looks at him in replying, then bows as she responds with “Yes, Lord Percy!” emphasizing the word lord as if he may not be persistent with her, and I am glad.

By the King’s Command.

I watch and see him lean over her, and it makes my heart ache; for I am sure his earnest manner is leading him where I do not want him to go, for I cannot think of him as a rival to me, and God only knows what would happen should it prove so.

From her corsage a June rose is escaping to the floor, which I see he dexterously recovers, and instead of giving it to her he slips it into his doublet, and she hinders him not.

Did she give him permission to keep it? The thought of it stirs me mightily.

“I would claim my promise, Master Wyatt, ” she says, coming to me, and I forget everything as I try to please her, as I sing.

I search for a soul to be mine ,

A sweet spirit , loving and hind.

To be my ideal, for woe and for weal,

1 crave such a soul to be mine .

Ym armed to the full cap-a-pie,

Lance strong, heart strong as can be,

Yll fight till I die, my courage is high,

For that soul I so hunger to see .

Tell me where such a soul can be found.

In castle or bower around ?

Ym a Tcnight of desire, my heart is on fire,

Ym equipped for LOVE'S battle ground.

“I will tell thee ," a maiden replies,

(c Thus equipped for such war is unwise ;

In thy search for a soul, thine ideal to behold,

A maid's soul thou may' st see IN HER EYES

“That is a very pretty song, Wyatt, and we shall know where to look ; the ladies must not think us over bold if we put this in practice, and I am pleased at the maid’s suggestion,” George Boleyn says, laughing.

As we retire later, I see Percy* carefully place Anne’s rose in his cedar chest, but he says nothing to me, and what can I say? I cannot trust myself to talk about her, but I w r ould give anything to know if she gave it to him.

Hampton Court Palace.

Chapter III. Hampton Court Palace

Thirteen miles from the Cardinal’s palace of York Place, and four miles from his Majesty’s palace at Sheen, beside the river Thames, is Hampton Court Palace.

His Eminence, eleven years ago, purchased an old manor house and converted it into a palace. Many magnificent rooms he built around triangular courts, making it a pile, with corridors, cloisters, many stairways and intricacies, that one can easily lose himself.

A magnificent chapel he has added, that accommodates his household, which is in keeping with his sacred office as prince of the church, and where his chaplains can urge souls to their duty. Underneath the chapel, and indeed beneath the major part of the buildings, are immense vaults and cellars for the storing of wine that he receives as a kind of lordly tribute from abroad from those who wish to gain his favor. There are dungeons, too, but seldom used, as his Eminence makes this palace a place of absolute enjoyment and quiet rest.