<h3>ANNE BOLEYN.</h3>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></SPAN></span></p>
<p class="heading">[BORN 1507. DIED 1536.]<br/>
TYTLER.</p>
<p><ANTIMG src="images/im.jpg" alt="M" width-obs="71" height-obs="68" class="floatl" />ISTRESS
Anne Boleyn was the daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn. She returned
from France in 1527, under circumstances which were favourable not only
to the acquisition of all elegant accomplishments, but to the
strengthening of her understanding, and the improvement of her mind. As
early as 1515, she had been sent over to that kingdom to be attendant on
the Princess Mary, the wife of Louis XII. On the death of this monarch,
and the return of his widow to England, Anne entered the household of
Queen Claude, in whose palace she remained till she was seventeen. At
this time Margaret, Duchess of Alen�on, the sister of Francis, became
deeply attached to her, and on the demise of the queen she was taken
into her family. Here she probably remained till the marriage of that
princess with the King of Navarre in 1527, an event which, as it took
her protectress from Paris, seems to have occasioned her recall to
England, where she immediately became one of the maids of honour to
Catharine.</p>
<p>It has been the fashion of many writers of the Roman Church to represent
Anne Boleyn as having led a singularly profligate life in her early
youth, but there appears no ground for so slanderous an attack. That the
education of a youthful and beautiful female in one of the most
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corrupted courts of Europe should produce austere or reserved manners
was not to be suspected, but no evidence deserving of a moment's credit
has been adduced to prove the slightest impurity of life; the tales
against her being evidently the after-coinage of those misguided zealots
who, by destroying her reputation, imagined they were performing a
service to religion.</p>
<p>When she first appeared in court she was a lovely young woman in her
twentieth year. She is described as possessing a rare and admirable
beauty, clear and fresh, with a noble presence and most perfect shape.
Her personal graces were enhanced by a cheerfulness and sweetness of
temper which never forsook her, and her education had secured to her all
those female accomplishments which were fitted to dazzle and delight a
court. She danced with uncommon grace, sung sweetly, and, by the
remarkable vivacity and wit of her conversation, retained the admiration
of those who had at first been only attracted by her beauty. On her
arrival at court, Anne was welcomed by the homage and adulation which
her youth, her loveliness, and accomplishments inspired; and there seems
some ground for believing that Henry became enamoured of her almost
immediately. But he concealed, it is even said he struggled with, his
incipient passion.</p>
<p>Dissimulation, however, with his majesty was now at an end. Henry had
never been taught to restrain his passions; his past life, though
outwardly decent, had not been remarkable for constancy; his love of
pleasure, and his frequent opportunities of meeting the beautiful Anne
at court, exposed him to perpetual temptation; and he at length declared
himself, with the confidence of a monarch who felt that he had only to
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make known his predilection, to be accepted as a lover. But in this he
was mistaken; for, although compelled to listen to his solicitations,
the lady fell upon her knees and made the following answer: "I deem,
most noble king, that your majesty speaks these words in mirth to prove
me; if not, I beseech your highness earnestly to take this answer in
good part, and I speak it from the bottom of my soul. Believe me, I
would rather lose my life than give encouragement to your addresses."
Henry, however, in the common jargon of the libertine, declared that he
would live in hope; when his perseverance in insult drew forth this
spirited reply: "I understand not, mighty king, how you should entertain
any such hope. Your wife I cannot be, both in respect of my own
unworthiness, and also because you have a queen already. Your mistress,
be assured, I will never be."</p>
<p>[The subsequent history of this unfortunate lady, her marriage with
Henry after the divorce of Catharine, the false charges brought against
her, her unhappy death under the axe, the reader will remember, along
with the legend yet preserved in Epping Forest.] On the morning of the
day which was to be her last, Henry went to hunt in that district, and
as he breakfasted surrounded by his train and his hounds under a
spreading oak which is yet shown, he listened from time to time with a
look of intense anxiety; at length the sound of a distant gun boomed
through the wood. It was a preconcerted signal, and marked the moment
when the execution was completed. "Ah ha, it is done!" said he, starting
up; "the business is done; uncouple the dogs, and let us follow the
sport." On the succeeding morning he was married to Jane Seymour.</p>
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