refused to abandon some of the greatest errors and most reprehensible tenets of popery, and evinced so strong a dislike to the disciples of Luther, that those who hoped that Henry was indeed a reformer, now found that he had only abjured the papal sway for his own personal motives, without renouncing those dogmas and superstitions which had induced enlightened and thinking men to become converts to a purer creed! About this time died Catherine of Arragon, at Kimbolton, in Huntingdon, and the indecent satisfaction of Queen Anne on this event did not increase the good-will of her subjects. The persistance of Catherine in retaining the title of Queen, after the sentence of divorce, which greatly enraged Henry, must have been the cause of Anne's satisfaction at her death, for then she felt she was indeed the sole queen in England. Nevertheless, it was unwise, as well as unfeeling, to betray pleasure on such an occasion. She dreamt not how soon she would follow to the grave her whose death had gratified her! and perhaps her joy had disgusted Henry, who is said to have shed tears when he perused Catherine's last letter to him.

The consideration and respect shown to Anne by the German reformers, as was proved by the princes of that country, who offered to declare Henry the head and protector of the Smalcalde League, excited the jealousy of the king. He had sought Anne as the toy of his lighter hours, the mistress of his pleasures; and when he found that she aspired to a higher sphere of action, his tenderness for her soon diminished. He wished her to have no title to admiration, save that reflected from being his queen, and was vexed that the influence she had acquired over him should be so well known, and redound more to her credit than his own. Again Anne gave hopes of becoming a mother, and Henry's tenderness seemed once 1 Carte, book xv. p. 233.

2 Idem,

more to revive, when, unhappily for Anne, a new beauty caught his eye, and captivated his fickle heart. Nevertheless, he still retained the mask of affection for his queen, and probably might never have destroyed her, had she not one day surprised him bestowing on her rival, Jane Seymour, those caresses which she believed he lavished only on herself, while the lady received them with a docility which went far to prove to the jealous queen that a perfect good understanding must have been for some time established between the lovers.

Rage and jealousy, amounting almost to phrenzy, took possession of the tortured brain of Anne, and the effect of these violent passions produced the premature birth of a dead son, and led to the imminent danger of her life. The disappointment of Henry at this event could only be equalled by his anger, and with the selfishness which ever characterized him, he upbraided his suffering wife with a harshness which drew from her the reproach that his infidelity and unkindness had been the cause. Stung by this reproof, he uttered an oath that she should have no other son by him, and left her terrified at the consequence of her own natural but unwise recrimination.

The death of Catherine but a short time previously to the accouchement of Anne had awakened many grave reflections in the mind of Henry. He now felt how much wiser it would have been had he patiently waited for that event— a line of conduct which, now that his passion for Anne was sated, and a new flame kindled in his heart, appeared very easy, although he had found it otherwise when he loved her. Influenced by his new passion, he was as anxious to get rid of Anne, in order to wed Jane Seymour, as he had formerly been to free himself from Catherine, to wed Anne; but a simple divorce, to be obtained by any pretext, or false accusation to be brought against her, would not satisfy him, because,

should she survive him, an event more than probable from her being so many years his junior, and from his own growing infirmities, she might interfere to prevent the succession of any offspring Jane Seymour might bear him.

To prevent the possibility of such a contingency, Anne's life must be sacrificed; and when was the unfeeling and tyrannical Henry ever known to pause in any step that could gratify his own wishes, though purchased by the ruin of another? Courtiers are never slow to discover when a change takes place in the feelings of their sovereign, or to evince their devotion to him by becoming the enemies of those who no longer enjoy his favour. It was soon observed that Jane Seymour had banished Anne Boleyn from Henry's heart, and as in the former case the courtiers turned their adulation to Anne from Catherine, so now they directed it to Jane Seymour from Anne. Among the first to notice the king's estrangement from his queen, was Lady Rochford, who, hating her sister-in-law with an intensity that triumphed over every womanly feeling, became the ready spy of Henry, when he, aware of the dislike she entertained for his queen, employed her to watch her movements.1 The result may

be easily anticipated. This base person, now furnished with an opportunity of gratifying her hatred, brought forward a charge against the queen and her brother, of a crime so terrible that only the vilest could imagine, and the most vicious believe. Their frequent interviews, so natural between bro

"The Lord Rochford's wife, Jane (a peevish woman, infamous in her own character and conduct, jealous of her husband, from whom she had been separated four years), was generally supposed to be the person whose suggestions had contributed most to the king's suspicions. The only thing that appeared against this nobleman was his laying his hand on the queen's bed whilst he whispered her one day-an action done before company, yet being thought too great a familiarity for a brother to use, and a disparagement to the king's honour and dignity."—Carte, book xv. p. 74.

ther and sister, were made the pleas for a guilt, the bare notion of which never could be contemplated save with horror. The improbability of such a charge being credited induced the foes of Anne to prefer other accusations against her, and to name individuals holding appointments in the royal household as being her paramours.

If Catherine found none to plead in her favour, Anne was less likely to do so; for having excited the enmity of the catholics by her support of the reformers,' and these last being too few in number to give importance to any defence they might wish to offer for her, she found herself unprotected against the machinations put in practice for her ruin; the known estrangement of her husband having turned her secret foes into open enemies. Yet, though tortured by the pangs of jealousy, Anne exercised sufficient self-control to appear calm and courteous, in the hope of winning back the affection of her cruel husband, once so devotedly her own. She could not bring herself to believe that it was irrecoverably lost, that all the love he once bore her, all the hours of happiness they had known, were forgotten for ever; and while he was concerting plans against, not only her honour, but her life, she was decking her face in smiles to please him, and cheating herself with hopes of success. The king convened a parliament, the motive for which was kept a profound secret, except to his private advisers, for the purpose of annulling the act of succession in favour of Anne and her offspring.

"The Austrian party about court-all that misliked the divorce from Catherine, and all that opposed the reformation, which she was supposed to favour-were her bitter enemies."-Carte, book xv. p. 133.

2 "Quand les ennemis d'Anne de Bollen se furent apperçus qu'elle n'occupoit plus, dans le cœur du roi, la même place qu'elle y avoit tenue autrefois, bien loin de craindre de l'accuser d'infidélité envers le roi son époux, ils crurent, au contraire, faire plaisir à cet époux, qui commençoit à devenir lui-même infidèle, en lui fournissant un prétext qui autorisât son changement."-Rapin, tom. vi. p. 376.

Meanwhile, the constant interviews between Henry and Jane Seymour increased his passion for her, and rendered him more impatient to break all obstacles that opposed its gratification. He avoided the society of the queen, and treated her with a marked coldness, most ominous to one who so well knew the implacability of his nature. The last occasion on which Anne appeared in regal state was at a tournament held at Greenwich, on the 1st of May,' and it was observed that her beauty, though lately dimmed by care and anxiety, shone forth resplendent. Lord Rochford challenged Norris, and the queen, like all present, looked on with interest at the playful combat, when the king abruptly left the sport, exhibiting an angry aspect, as if displeased by something which he had noticed, a movement which alarmed Anne, and induced her soon after to retire from her place. It was not until the following day that she learned that Lord Rochford, Norris, and two other gentlemen, had been arrested and sent to the Tower; but distressing as was the arrest of her brother, how was her affliction increased, when, after dinner, her uncle the Duke of Norfolk, in whom she knew she had an enemy, with Sir Thomas Audley and some others, entered the room, followed by the governor of the Tower, and revealed to her that she was instantly to depart to that place. The duke gave the order so rudely, as to indicate that it afforded him more pleasure than pain. "I am ready to obey the king's pleasure," said Anne, with calmness, though her pallid face announced the effort it cost her to appear tranquil. She waited not to change her dress, but immediately resigned herself to the custody of those who had arrested her, and entered the barge. Her stern and cruel uncle then informed her that denial of her guilt was vain, as her paramours had confessed it; but she earnestly and

1 Carte, book xv. p. 133.