By what means Sir Thomas
Wyat obtained an Interview with
Anne Boleyn And
how the Earl of Surrey saved them from the
King’s anger.
The incident above related gave new
life to the adherents of Catherine of Arragon, while
it filled those devoted to Anne Boleyn with alarm.
Immediately on Anne’s return to the castle Lord
Rochford had a private interview with her, and bitterly
reproached her for endangering her splendid prospects.
Anne treated the matter very lightly said
it was only a temporary gust of jealousy and
added that the king would be at her feet again before
the day was past.
“You are over-confident, mistress!”
cried Rochford angrily. “Henry is not an
ordinary gallant.”
“It is you who are mistaken,
father,” replied Anne. “The king differs
in no respect from any of his love-smitten subjects.
I have him in my toils, and will not let him escape.”
“You have a tiger in your toils,
daughter, and take heed he breaks not forcibly through
them,” rejoined Rochford. “Henry is
more wayward than you suppose him. Once let him
take up a notion, and nothing can shake him from it.
He has resolved upon the divorce as much from self-will
as from any other consideration. If you regain
your position with him, of which you seem so confident,
do not consider yourself secure not even
when you are crowned queen but be warned
by Catherine of Arragon.”
“Catherine has not the art to
retain him,” said Anne. “Henry will
never divorce me.”
“Take care he does not rid himself
of you in a more summary manner, daughter,”
rejoined Rochford. “If you would stand well
with him, you must study his lightest word, look,
and action humour him in every whim and
yield to every caprice. Above all, you must exhibit
no jealousy.”
“You are wrong in all but the
last, father,” returned Anne. “Henry
is not to be pleased by such nice attention to his
humours. It is because I have shown myself careless
of them that I have captivated him. But I will
take care not to exhibit jealousy, and, sooth to say,
I do not think I shall have cause.”
“Be not too sure of that,”
replied Rochford. “And at all events, let
not the king have cause to be jealous of you.
I trust Wyat will be banished from court. But
if he is not, do not let him approach you more.”
“Poor Sir Thomas!” sighed
Anne. “He loved me very dearly.”
“But what is his love compared
to the king’s?” cried Rochford. “Tut,
tut, girl! think no more of him.”
“I will not, my lord,”
she rejoined; “I see the prudence of your counsel,
and will obey it. Leave me, I pray you. I
will soon win back the affections of the king.”
No sooner had Rochford quitted the
chamber than the arras at the farther end was raised,
and Wyat stepped from behind it. His first proceeding
was to bar the door.
“What means this, Sir Thomas?”
cried Anne in alarm. “How have you obtained
admittance here?”
“Through the secret staircase,”
replied Wyat, bending the knee before her.
“Rise, sir!” cried Anne,
in great alarm. “Return, I beseech you,
as you came. You have greatly endangered me by
coming here. If you are seen to leave this chamber,
it will be in vain to assert my innocence to Henry.
Oh, Sir Thomas! you cannot love me, or you would not
have done this.”
“Not love you, Anne!”
he repeated bitterly; “not love you I Words cannot
speak my devotion. I would lay down my head on
the scaffold to prove it. But for my love for
you, I would throw open that door, and walk forth so
that all might see me so that Henry might
experience some part of the anguish I now feel.”
“But you will not do so, good
Sir Thomas dear Sir Thomas,” cried
Anne Boleyn, in alarm.
“Have no fear,” rejoined
Wyat, with some contempt; “I will sacrifice
even vengeance to love.”
“Sir Thomas, I had tolerated
this too long,” said Anne. “Begone you
terrify me.”
“It is my last interview with
you, Anne,” said Wyat imploringly; “do
not abridge it. Oh, bethink you of the happy hours
we have passed together of the vows we
have interchanged of the protestations you
have listened to, and returned ay, returned,
Anne. Are all these forgotten?”
“Not forgotten, Sir Thomas,”
replied Anne mournfully; “but they must not
be recalled. I cannot listen to you longer.
You must go. Heaven grant you may get hence in
safety!”
“Anne,” replied Wyat in
a sombre tone, “the thought of Henry’s
happiness drives me mad. I feel that I am grown
a traitor that I could slay him.”
“Sir Thomas!” she exclaimed, in mingled
fear and anger.
“I will not go,” he continued,
flinging himself into a seat. “Let them
put what construction they will upon my presence.
I shall at least wring Henry’s heart. I
shall see him suffer as I have suffered; and I shall
be content.”
“This is not like you, Wyat,”
cried Anne, in great alarm. “You were wont
to be noble, generous, kind. You will not act
thus disloyally?
“Who has acted disloyally, Anne?”
cried Wyat, springing to his feet, and fixing his
dark eyes, blazing with jealous fury, upon her “you
or I? Have you not sacrificed your old affections
at the shrine of ambition? Are you not about
to give yourself to one to whom unless you
are foresworn you cannot give your heart?
Better had you been the mistress of Allington Castle better
the wife of a humble knight like myself, than the
queen of the ruthless Henry.”
“No more of this, Wyat,” said Anne.
“Better far you should perish
by his tyranny for a supposed fault now than hereafter,”
pursued Wyat fiercely. “Think not Henry
will respect you more than her who had been eight-and-twenty
years his wife. No; when he is tired of your
charms when some other dame, fair as yourself,
shall enslave his fancy, he will cast you off, or,
as your father truly intimated, will seek a readier
means of ridding himself of you. Then you will
think of the different fate that might have been yours
if you had adhered to your early love.”
“Wyat! Wyat! I cannot
bear this in mercy spare me!” cried
Anne.
“I am glad to see you weep,”
said Wyat; “your tears make you look more like
your former self.”
“Oh, Wyat, do not view my conduct
too harshly!” she said. “Few of my
sex would have acted other than I have done.”
“I do not think so,” replied
Wyat sternly; “nor will I forego my vengeance.
Anne, you shall die. You know Henry too well to
doubt your fate if he finds me here.”
“You cannot mean this,”
she rejoined, with difficulty repressing a scream;
“but if I perish, you will perish with me.”
“I wish to do so,” he rejoined, with a
bitter laugh.
“Wyat,” cried Anne, throwing
herself on her knees before him, “by your former
love for me, I implore you to spare me! Do not
disgrace me thus.”
But Wyat continued inexorable.
“O God!” exclaimed Anne,
wringing her hands in agony. A terrible silence
ensued, during which Anne regarded Wyat, but she could
discern no change in his countenance.
At this juncture the tapestry was
again raised, and the Earl of Surrey issued from it.
“You here, my lord?” said Anne, rushing
towards him.
“I am come to save you, madame,”
said the earl. “I have been just liberated
from arrest, and was about to implore your intercession
with the king, when I learned he had been informed
by one of his pages that a man was in your chamber.
Luckily, he knows not who it is, and while he was
summoning his attendants to accompany him, I hurried
hither by the secret staircase. I have arrived
in time. Fly fly! Sir Thomas Wyat!”
But Wyat moved not.
At this moment footsteps were heard
approaching the door the handle was tried and
the stern voice of the king was heard commanding that
it might be opened.
“Will you destroy me, Wyat?” cried Anne.
“You have destroyed yourself,” he rejoined.
“Why stay you here, Sir Thomas?”
said Surrey, seizing his arm. “You may
yet escape. By heaven! if you move not, I will
stab you to the heart!”
“You would do me a favour, young
man,” said Wyat coldly; “but I will go.
I yield to love, and not to you, tyrant!” he
added, shaking his hand at the door. “May
the worst pangs of jealously rend your heart!”
And he disappeared behind the arras.
“I hear voices,” cried
Henry from without. “God’s death!
madam, open the door or I will burst it
open!”
“Oh, heaven! what is to be done?”
cried Anne Boleyn, in despair.
“Open the door, and leave all
to me, madam,” said Surrey; “I will save
you, though it cost me my life!”
Anne pressed his hand, with a look
of ineffable gratitude, and Surrey concealed himself
behind the arras.
The door was opened, and Henry rushed
in, followed by Richmond, Norfolk, Suffolk, and a
host of attendants.
“Ah! God’s death!
where is the traitor?” roared the king, gazing
round.
“Why is my privacy thus broken
upon?” said Anne, assuming a look of indignation.
“Your privacy!” echoed
Henry, in a tone of deep derision “Your
privacy! ha! ha! You bear
yourself bravely, it must be confessed. My lords,
you heard the voices as well as myself. Where
is Sir Thomas Wyat?”
“He is not here,” replied Anne firmly.
“Aha! we shall see that, mistress,”
rejoined Henry fiercely. “But if Sir Thomas
Wyat is not here, who is? for I am well assured that
some one is hidden in your chamber.”
“What if there be?” rejoined Anne coldly.
“Ah! by Saint Mary, you confess
it!” cried the king. “Let the traitor
come forth.”
“Your majesty shall not need
to bid twice,” said Surrey, issuing from his
concealment.
“The Earl of Surrey!”
exclaimed Henry, in surprise. “How come
you here, my lord? Methought you were under arrest
at the guard-house.”
“He was set free by my orders,”
said the Duke of Richmond.
“First of all I must entreat
your majesty to turn your resentment against me,”
said the earl. “I am solely to blame, and
I would not have the Lady Anne suffer for my fault.
I forced myself into her presence. She knew not
of my coming.”
“And wherefore did you so, my
lord?” demanded Henry sternly.
“Liberated from the guard-house
at the Duke of Richmond’s instance, my liege,
I came to entreat the Lady Anne to mediate between
me and your majesty, and to use her influence with
your highness to have me betrothed to the Lady Elizabeth
Fitzgerald.”
“Is this so, madam?” asked the king.
Anne bowed her head.
“But why was the door barred?”
demanded Henry, again frowning suspiciously.
“I barred it myself,”
said Surrey, “and vowed that the Lady Anne should
not go forth till she had granted my request.”
“By our lady you have placed
yourself in peril, my lord,” said Henry sternly.
“Your majesty will bear in mind
his youth,” said the Duke of Norfolk anxiously.
“For my sake overlook the indiscretion,”
cried the Duke of Richmond.
“It will not, perhaps, avail
him to hope that it may be overlooked for mine,”
added Anne Boleyn.
“The offence must not pass unpunished,”
said Henry musingly. “My lord of Surrey,
you must be content to remain for two months a prisoner
in the Round Tower of this castle.”
“Your majesty!” cried
Richmond, bending the knee in supplication.
“The sentence is passed,”
replied Henry coldly; “and the earl may thank
you it is not heavier. Richmond, you will think
no more of the fair Geraldine; and it is my pleasure,
Lady Anne, that the young dame withdraw from the court
for a short while.”
“Your majesty shall be obeyed,” said Anne;
“but ”
“But me no buts, sweetheart,”
said the king peremptorily. “Surrey’s
explanation is satisfactory so far as it goes, but
I was told Sir Thomas Wyat was here.”
“Sir Thomas Wyat is here,”
said Will Sommers, pointing out the knight, who had
just joined the throng of courtiers at the door.
“I have hurried hither from
my chamber, my liege,” said Wyat, stepping forward,
“hearing there was some inquiry concerning me.”
“Is your majesty now satisfied?” asked
Anne Boleyn.
“Why, ay, sweetheart, well enough,”
rejoined Henry. “Sir Thomas Wyat, we have
a special mission for you to the court of our brother
of France. You will set out to-morrow.”
Wyat bowed.
“You have saved your head, gossip,”
whispered Will Sommers in the knight’s ear.
“A visit to Francis the First is better than
a visit to the Tower.”
“Retire, my lords,” said
Henry to the assemblage; “we owe some apology
to the Lady Anne for our intrusion, and desire an opportunity
to make it.”
Upon this the chamber was instantly
cleared of its occupants, and the Earl of Surrey was
conducted, under a guard, to the Round Tower.
Henry, however, did not find it an
easy matter to make peace with the Lady Anne.
Conscious of the advantage she had gained, she determined
not to relinquish it, and, after half an hour’s
vain suing, her royal lover proposed a turn in the
long gallery, upon which her apartments opened.
Here they continued conversing Henry pleading
in the most passionate manner, and Anne maintaining
a show of offended pride.
At last she exhibited some signs of
relenting, and Henry led her into a recess in the
gallery, lighted by a window filled with magnificent
stained glass. In this recess was a seat and a
small table, on which stood a vase filled with flowers,
arranged by Anne’s own hand; and here the monarch
hoped to adjust his differences with her.
Meanwhile, word having reached Wolsey
and Campeggio of the new cause of jealousy which the
king had received, it was instantly resolved that the
former should present to him, while in his present
favourable mood, a despatch received that morning
from Catherine of Arragon.
Armed with the letter, Wolsey repaired
to the king’s closet. Not finding him there,
and being given to understand by an usher that he was
in the great gallery, he proceeded thither. As
he walked softly along the polished oak floor, he
heard voices in one of the recesses, and distinguished
the tones of Henry and Anne Boleyn.
Henry was clasping the snowy fingers
of his favourite, and gazing passionately at her,
as the cardinal approached.
“Your majesty shall not detain
my hand,” said Anne, “unless you swear
to me, by your crown, that you will not again be jealous
without cause.”
“I swear it,” replied Henry.
“Were your majesty as devoted
to me as you would have me believe, you would soon
bring this matter of the divorce to an issue,”
said Anne.
“I would fain do so, sweetheart,”
rejoined Henry; “but these cardinals perplex
me sorely.”
“I am told by one who overheard
him, that Wolsey has declared the divorce shall not
be settled these two years,” said Anne; “in
which case it had better not be settled at all; for
I care not to avow I cannot brook so much delay.
The warmth of my affection will grow icy cold by that
time.”
“It were enough to try the patience
of the most forbearing,” rejoined the king,
smiling “but it shall not be so by
this lily hand it shall not! And now, sweetheart,
are we entirely reconciled?
“Not yet,” replied Anne.
“I shall claim a boon from your majesty before
I accord my entire forgiveness.”
“Name it,” said the king,
still clasping her hand tenderly, and intoxicated
by the witchery of her glance.
“I ask an important favour,”
said Anne, “but as it is one which will benefit
your majesty as much as myself, I have the less scruple
in requesting it. I ask the dismissal of one
who has abused your favour, who, by his extortion
and rapacity, has in some degree alienated the affections
of your subjects from you, and who solely opposes your
divorce from Catherine of Arragon because he fears
my influence may be prejudicial to him.”
“You cannot mean Wolsey?” said Henry uneasily.
“Your majesty has guessed aright,” replied
Anne.
“Wolsey has incurred my displeasure
oft of late,” said Henry; “and yet his
fidelity ”
“Be not deceived, my liege,”
said Anne; “he is faithful to you only so far
as serves his turn. He thinks he rules you.”
Before Henry could reply, the cardinal stepped forward.
“I bring your majesty a despatch,
just received from the queen,” he said.
“And you have been listening
to our discourse?” rejoined Henry sternly.
“You have overheard ”
“Enough to convince me, if I
had previously doubted it, that the Lady Anne Boleyn
is my mortal foe,” replied Wolsey.
“Foe though I am, I will make
terms with your eminence,” said Anne. “Expedite
the divorce you can do so if you will and
I am your fast friend.”
“I know too well the value of
your friendship, noble lady, not to do all in my power
to gain it,” replied Wolsey. “I will
further the matter, if possible. But it rests
chiefly in the hands of his holiness Pope Clement
the Seventh.”
“If his majesty will listen
to my counsel, he will throw off the pope’s
yoke altogether,” rejoined Anne. “Nay,
your eminence may frown at me if you will. Such,
I repeat, shall be my counsel. If the divorce
is speedily obtained, I am your friend: if not look
to yourself.”
“Do not appeal to me, Wolsey,”
said Henry, smiling approval at Anne; “I shall
uphold her.”
“Will it please your majesty
to peruse this despatch?” said Wolsey, again
offering Catherine’s letter.
“Take it to my closet,”
replied the king; “I will join you there.
And now at last we are good friends, sweetheart.”
“Excellent friends, my dear
liege,” replied Anne; “but I shall never
be your queen while Wolsey holds his place.”
“Then, indeed, he shall lose it,” replied
Henry.
“She is a bitter enemy, certes,”
muttered Wolsey as he walked away. “I must
overthrow her quickly, or she will overthrow me.
A rival must be found ay, a rival but
where? I was told that Henry cast eyes on a comely
forester’s daughter at the chase this morning.
She may do for the nonce.”