Of the Secret Interview
between Norris and Anne Boleyn, and
of the Dissimulation
practised by the King.
Henry’s attentions to Jane Seymour
at the masqued fête were so marked, that the whole
court was made aware of his passion. But it was
not anticipated that any serious and extraordinary
consequences would result from the intoxication far
less that the queen herself would be removed to make
way for her successful rival. It was afterwards,
however, remembered that at this time Henry held frequent,
long, and grave conferences with the Dukes of Suffolk
and Norfolk, and appeared to be engrossed in the meditation
of some project.
After the scene at the revel, Anne
did not make another exhibition of jealousy; but it
was not that she was reconciled to her situation, or
in any way free from uneasiness. On the contrary,
the unhappy Catherine of Arragon did not suffer more
in secret; but she knew, from experience, that with
her royal consort all reproaches would be unavailing.
One morning, when she was alone within
her chamber, her father, who was now Earl of Wiltshire,
obtained admittance to her.
“You have a troubled look, my
dear lord,” she said, as she motioned him to
a seat.
“And with good reason,”
he replied. “Oh, Anne! words cannot express
my anxiety at the present state of things.”
“It will speedily pass by, my
lord,” she replied; “the king will soon
be tired of his new idol.”
“Not before he has overthrown
the old one, I fear,” rejoined the earl.
“Jane Seymour’s charms have usurped entire
sovereignty over him. With all her air of ingenuousness
and simplicity, the minion is artful and dangerous
She has a high mark, I am persuaded no less
than the throne.”
“But Henry cannot wed her he
cannot divorce me,” said Anne.
“So thought Catherine of Arragon,”
replied her father; “and yet she was divorced.
Anne, I am convinced a plot is hatching against you.”
“You do not fear for my life,
father?” she cried, trembling.
“I trust there are no grounds
for charges against you by which it might be brought
in jeopardy,” replied the earl gravely.
“None, father none!” she exclaimed.
“I am glad of it,” rejoined
the earl; “for I have heard that the king said
to one who suggested another divorce to him, ’No,
if the queen comes within the scope of the divorce,
she also comes within the pale of the scaffold.’”
“A pledge was extorted from
him to that effect,” said Anne, in a hollow
voice.
“That an attempt will be made
against you, I firmly believe,” replied the
earl; “but if you are wholly innocent you have
nothing to fear.”
“Oh, father! I know not
that,” cried Anne. “Innocence avails
little with the stony-hearted Henry.”
“It will prove your best safeguard,”
said the earl. “And now farewell, daughter!
Heaven guard you! Keep the strictest watch upon
yourself.”
So saying, he quitted the apartment,
and as soon as she was left alone, the unhappy Anne
burst into an agony of tears.
From this state of affliction she
was roused by hearing her own name pronounced in low
accents, and looking up, she beheld Sir Henry Norris.
“Oh, Norris!” she said,
in a tone of reproach, “you have come hither
to destroy me.”
“No one knows of my coming,”
he said; “at least, no one who will betray me.
I was brought hither by one who will take care we are
not observed.”
“By Herne?” demanded Anne.
Norris answered in the affirmative.
“Would you had never leagued
yourself with him!” she cried; “I fear
the rash act will bring destruction upon us both.”
“It is too late to retract now,”
he replied; “besides, there was no help for
it. I sacrificed myself to preserve you.”
“But will the sacrifice preserve
me?” she cried. “I fear not.
I have just been told that the king is preparing some
terrible measure against me that he meditates
removing me, to make way for Jane Seymour.”
“You have heard the truth, madam,”
replied Norris, “he will try to bring you to
the block.”
“And with him, to try is to
achieve,” said Anne. “Oh, Norris!
it is a fearful thing to contemplate such a death!”
“But why contemplate it, madam?”
said Norris; “why, if you are satisfied that
the king has such designs against you why,
if you feel that he will succeed, tarry for the fatal
blow? Fly with me fly with one who
loves you, and will devote his whole life to you who
regards you, not as the queen, but as Anne Boleyn.
Relinquish this false and hollow grandeur, and fly
with me to happiness and peace.”
“And relinquish my throne to
Jane Seymour?” rejoined Anne “Never!
I feel that all you assert is true that
my present position is hazardous that Jane
Seymour is in the ascendant, while I am on the decline,
if not wholly sunk that you love me entirely,
and would devote your life to me still,
with all these motives for dread, I cannot prevail
upon myself voluntarily to give up my title, and to
abandon my post to a rival.”
“You do not love me, then, as
I love you, Anne,” said Norris. “If
I were a king, I would abandon my throne for you.”
“You think so now, Norris, because
you are not king,” she replied. “But
I am queen, and will remain so, till I am forced to
abandon my dignity.”
“I understand, madam,”
rejoined Norris gloomily. “But oh I bethink
you to what risks you expose yourself. You know
the king’s terrible determination his
vindictiveness, his ferocity.”
“Full well,” she replied “full
well; but I will rather die a queen than live disgrace
and ruined. In wedding Henry the Eighth, I laid
my account to certain risks, and those I must brave.”
Before Norris could urge anything
further, the door was suddenly opened, and a tall
dark figure entered the chamber, and said hastily “The
king is at hand.”
“One word more, and it is my
last,” said Norris to Anne. “Will
you fly with me to-night? all shall be
ready.”
“I cannot,” replied Anne.
“Away!” cried Herne, dragging Norris forcibly
behind the tapestry.
Scarcely had they disappeared when
Henry entered the chamber. He was in a gayer
mood than had been usual with him of late.
“I am come to tell you, madam,”
he said, “that I am about to hold jousts in
the castle on the first of May, at which your good
brother and mine, the Lord Rochford, will be the challenger,
while I myself shall be the defendant. You will
adjudge the prize.”
“Why not make Jane Seymour queen
of the jousts?” said Anne, unable to resist
the remark.
“She will be present at them,”
said Henry, “but I have my own reasons,”
he added significantly, “for not wishing her
to appear as queen on this occasion.”
“Whatever may be your reasons,
the wish is sufficient for me,” said Anne.
“Nay, will you tarry a moment with me? It
is long since we have had any converse in private
together.”
“I am busy at this moment,”
replied Henry bluffly; “but what is it you would
say to me?”
“I would only reproach you for
some lack of tenderness, and much neglect,”
said Anne. “Oh, Henry! do you remember how
you swore by your life your crown your
faith all that you held sacred or dear that
you would love me ever?”
“And so I would, if I could,”
replied the king; “but unfortunately the heart
is not entirely under control. Have you yourself,
for instance, experienced no change in your affections?”
“No,” replied Anne.
“I have certainly suffered severely from your
too evident regard for Jane Seymour; but, though deeply
mortified and distressed, I have never for a moment
been shaken in my love for your majesty.”
“A loyal and loving reply,”
said Henry. “I thought I had perceived some
slight diminution in your regard.”
“You did yourself grievous injustice
by the supposition,” replied Anne.
“I would fain believe so,”
said the king; “but there are some persons who
would persuade me that you have not only lost your
affection for me, but have even cast eyes of regard
on another.”
“Those who told you so lied!”
cried Anne passionately. “Never woman was
freer from such imputation than myself.”
“Never woman was more consummate
hypocrite,” muttered Henry.
“You do not credit me, I see,” cried Anne.
“If I did not, I should know
how to act,” replied the king. “You
remember my pledge?”
“Full well,” replied Anne;
“and if love and duty would not restrain me,
fear would.”
“So I felt,” rejoined
the king; “but there are some of your sex upon
whom nothing will operate as a warning so
faithless and inconstant are they by nature.
It has been hinted to me that you are one of these;
but I cannot think it. I can never believe that
a woman for whom I have placed my very throne in jeopardy for
whom I have divorced my queen-whose family I have
elevated and ennobled and whom I have placed
upon the throne would play me false. It is monstrous-incredible!”
“It is it is!” replied Anne.
“And now farewell,” said
Henry. “I have stayed longer than I intended,
and I should not have mentioned these accusations,
which I regard as wholly groundless, unless you had
reproached me.”
And he quitted the chamber, leaving
Anne in a strange state of perplexity and terror.