And the Council never came because its members knew they would get nothing to the purpose. The status of Anne and her brother put them beyond the use of torture. And their intelligence and strength of character meant that little would be got out of them any other way.
Instead, Cromwell, together probably with Audley and Rich, decided to make do with the materials they had to hand. These consisted of three distinct elements. First, there was Smeaton's extorted confession. Second, there was a mass of rumour and innuendo about Anne for which, paradoxically, her own heedless remarks in the Tower were the strongest evidence. And third, there was the already bad reputation of Weston, Wyatt and the rest. This last was particularly useful, since the manifest deficiencies of the concrete evidence could be concealed by invoking a wave of moral panic. And the higher the wave and the deeper the alleged depravity, the better.
In these circumstances the very extravagance of the accusations brought against Anne became an asset to the prosecution, rather than a liability. The initial charges, of adultery with Norris and Smeaton and incest with Rochford, excited incredulity. What sort of woman would do that? But increase the tally of Anne's lovers to five (for Page and Wyatt were quickly eliminated), and the accusation became almost believable. Add, too, the shocking details of Anne's unnatural seduction of her brother – 'alluring him with her tongue in [his] mouth, and his tongue in hers' – and right-minded people would agree that burning and quartering was too good for them.
17
What all this makes clear, alas, is that the prosecution's strongest card was Anne. She had already done so much that people were prepared to believe that she was capable of anything. Hence the case's relentless, prurient focus on her:
She [the Indictment read], following daily her frail and carnal lust, did falsely and traitorously procure by base conversations and kisses, touchings, gifts, and other infamous incitations, divers of the King's daily and familiar servants to be her adulterers and concubines.
It was Anne, in other words, who took the initiative. She was insatiable. She was jealous and domineering. Her lovers, on the other hand, were the mere creatures of a male harem, squabbling among themselves for her favours and living only to serve her lusts, which, nevertheless, they could not satisfy.
18
For such a woman marriage was a restriction and a husband a nuisance. Hence the culminating charges that she had conspired Henry's death; had promised to marry one or other of her lovers when he was gone; and, in a sort of travesty of the marriage vows, had affirmed 'that she would never love the King in her heart'.
Through this fog of language – as through a glass darkly – it is possible to see the strange, distorted outlines of Anne's exchanges with Smeaton, Norris and Weston. But that is only the detail. Dominating everything, and lending verisimilitude to each several allegation, is a monstrous caricature of Anne herself.
This was the Anne who had defied convention; won Henry; broken his marriage; tongue-lashed dukes and earls; driven Catherine to her grave and More and Fisher to the block.
She had remade the political world in her own image. Why, the Indictment in effect asked, should she be any more respectful of the moral universe?
* * *
The difference of rank between the accused dictated two distinct modes of trial. The commoners were judicable before the Commission of Oyer and Terminer, sitting in Westminster Hall and with a jury. Anne and Rochford, on the other hand, were Peers and had to be tried by a special tribunal known as the Court of the Lord High Steward. The Steward, who held the office for a day, presided over a panel of Peers who served as both judge and jury.
This convention, too, was turned to the government's advantage.
On Friday, 12 May, the four Gentlemen of the King's Privy Chamber – Norris, Weston, Brereton and Smeaton – were brought to Westminster Hall. Norris had probably last stood there when he attended on Henry in his latticed viewing closet at Anne's coronation banquet. Smeaton, who had been kept in irons in the Tower, to remind him of what might befall if he changed his story, pleaded guilty and admitted adultery with Anne three times. The rest pleaded not guilty and protested their innocence. They were found guilty nonetheless. Chapuys, deeply unsympathetic though he was, was dismissive of the evidence against them. 'They were condemned', he reported, 'upon presumption and certain indications, without valid proof or confession.'
19
But that was a sophisticate's reaction. Much more typical, probably, was the response of Lord Lisle's principal London agent, John Husey. Husey was overwhelmed by the horror of the charges. 'If all the books and chronicles were totally revolved . . . and tried, which against women hath been penned, contrived and written since Adam and Eve, those same were, I think, verily nothing in comparison of that which hath been done and committed by Anne the Queen.' He affected not to believe everything with which she was charged. 'Yet', he wrote to Lady Lisle, 'that which hath been by her confessed, and others, offenders with her, by her own alluring, procurement and instigation, is so abominable that I am ashamed that any good woman should give ear thereunto.' 'I think not the contrary but she and all they shall suffer,' he concluded.
20
The prosecution strategy had worked. Anne's case was hopelessly prejudiced by the prior condemnation of most of her fellow accused.
* * *
Probably for reasons of security, it was decided that Anne and her brother should be tried inside the Tower. Special stands were built in the Great Hall and, according to Chapuys, 2,000 spectators crowded in for the trial of the century. It took place on Saturday, 15 May. Anne's uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, presided as Lord High Steward for the day, and among the panel of Peers was her former suitor, Northumberland. He had been summoned to London to testify to the true status of his betrothal to Anne, and was in a state of high tension. He was also, as it turned out, mortally sick.
21
As well as the panel of Peers, the judges were present in a body, to supply authoritative legal advice, if required. Anne had last had dealings with them at her coronation and, as on that occasion, the event was described by Sir John Spelman in his
Reports
. Finally, either Chapuys or an agent of his was there with the rest and his account is the fullest and probably the most accurate.
22
* * *
Once again, the order of proceedings had been carefully considered. Anne was effectively already condemned by the verdicts of the previous Wednesday. Rochford was not. He was also felt to be the toughest nut to crack.
So Anne was tried first. And, despite the procedural rigging, she put up a good defence.
The Queen, Chapuys reported, 'was principally charged with . . . having cohabited with her brother and other accomplices; that there was a promise between her and Norris to marry after the King's death, which it thus appeared they hoped for; . . . [and] that she had poisoned [Catherine] and intrigued to do the same to [Mary]'. Anne, as was usual in treason trials, had no counsel, and it was probably the first time she had heard the detailed charges. But she stood her ground. 'These things,' Chapuys continued, 'she totally denied, and gave a plausible answer to each.' She admitted, on the other hand, to giving presents to Weston. But so she had often done, she said, to other young gentlemen.
23
It was an impressive performance. But it made no difference. Norfolk called for the verdict. Starting with the most junior, each of the Peers said 'guilty'. What it cost Northumberland can only be guessed.
Norfolk now declared the sentence. The usual punishment for a traitoress was burning alive. But, 'because she was Queen, the Steward gave judgement that she should be burned or beheaded at the King's pleasure'.
At this point the judges 'murmured'. They had sat in silence through the trial, even though Spelman dismissed the evidence as 'all . . . bawdery and lechery, so that there was no such whore in the realm'. But at Norfolk's 'disjunctive' sentence, they registered their protest. That was not the law.
24
Such was the concern of the professionals with justice.
* * *
Despite the verdict and sentence, Anne kept her composure. She was resigned to die, she told the court. But what she regretted was that so many others, who were innocent and loyal to the King, were to die with her.
25
* * *
Anne was removed before her brother was brought in and the two did not have the consolation of seeing each other for the last time.
As predicted, Rochford put up a vigorous defence. No witnesses were brought against him and the betting was running ten to one that he would be acquitted.
He also had his revenge. One of the charges against him was that Anne had told his wife that the King 'was no good in bed with women, and that he had neither potency nor force'. Rochford was warned not to repeat this in open court. But, on pretext of protecting the King's issue, he did so, 'in great contempt of Cromwell'.
Once again, Norfolk called for the verdict. At this point, Northumberland 'was suddenly taken ill' and was excused. The rest said 'guilty'.
26
* * *
In her speech to the court after sentence, Anne had asked 'a short space for shrift' – that is, to make confession and settle her account with God. Kingston discussed this question with Henry in person on the 16th and the King informed him that 'my lord of Canterbury should be her confessor'. Cranmer, Kingston reported to Cromwell, 'was here this day with the Queen, and not in that matter'.
27
'And not in that matter'. This phrase has been either overlooked or
misunderstood by historians. But it is crucial. For what other 'matter' could take precedence over the state of the Queen's immortal soul? The answer, I fear, is the divorce which Cranmer had been ordered to pronounce between Anne and Henry. Northumberland had been uncooperative and, as late as 13 May, had repeated his denial that 'there were ever any contract or promise of marriage between her and me'. And he had done so 'to his damnation' if he lied. Only Anne herself, therefore, could set Henry free. What she said to Cranmer we will never know. But it was enough for the Archbishop of Canterbury to pronounce her marriage dissolved the following day.
28
And later on the 16th, it may be by coincidence, it may not, it was determined that Anne should die, not by the agony of the fire, but at the hands of the executioner of Calais. He used the sword rather than the axe and had a reputation for removing heads with an exquisite surgical skill.
29
But, for the moment, Cranmer was too busy with preparing Henry's divorce to turn up at the Tower again to confess Anne, despite her desperate pleadings with Kingston. Presumably he did so eventually. But we do not know when.
30
* * *
The men, including Rochford, were executed on Tower Hill on Monday, 17 May. The scaffold had been built especially high, to give a good view to the vast crowds who were certain to turn up. Weston, who had written a pathetic letter of apology to his father and mother and his poor neglected wife, spoke of his youthful folly and insouciance. 'I had thought', Constantine remembered him saying, 'to have lived in abomination yet this twenty or thirty years and then to have made amends.' 'I thought little', he added, 'it would have come to this.' Rochford apologised, too, for having slandered the Gospel. 'For if I had lived according to the Gospel as I loved it, and spake of it,' he said, 'I had never come to this.' The rest said almost nothing.
31
Anne, it was decided, would die two days later, on the 19th. And she would be executed within the Tower, on Tower Green. Care was taken to remove all foreigners, including the servant that Chapuys had sent along. And, though the gates were left open, crowds were deliberately discouraged by the simple expedient of not announcing the time in advance and indeed postponing it beyond the usual hour. Kingston, writing to Cromwell that morning, was open about the motive. 'Sir,' he wrote, 'I think a reasonable number were best, for I suppose she will declare herself to be a good woman for all men but the King at the hour of her death.'
Indeed, he had just had confirmation of the fact, as Anne had summoned him to be present when she took her last sacrament. She received the host and swore 'as touching her innocency always to be clear'.
32
* * *
The device of postponing the execution was an excellent piece of crowdcontrol. But it played a final cruel trick on Anne. For executions normally took place first thing in the morning. Knowing this custom, Anne had been up praying with her Almoner since 2 o'clock. By mid-morning she summoned Kingston. 'Mr Kingston', she rebuked him, 'I hear say I shall not die afore noon, and I am very sorry therefore, for I thought then to be dead and past my pain.' Kingston ignored her complaint about the gratuitous delay but tried to console her on one thing at least. 'It should be no pain', he said, 'it was so subtle.'
The solemn obtuseness of the remark tickled Anne's sense of the absurd for the last time. 'I heard say the executioner was very good', she replied, 'and I have a little neck.' Then she put her hand round it and burst out laughing.
But Kingston, with much experience of executions, was not deceived. 'I have seen many men and also women executed', he wrote, 'and . . . they have been in great sorrow.' But, he continued, 'to my knowledge this lady hath much joy and pleasure in death'.
33
* * *
Eventually, Kingston conducted Anne to the scaffold. She was attended by the four women who had been with her throughout in the Tower. To one observer, she seemed 'very much exhausted and amazed'. She also looked frequently behind her. Was she trying to avoid looking at the scaffold? Or hoping against hope for a pardon?