Showing posts with label Anne Boleyn's Personality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anne Boleyn's Personality. Show all posts

Anne Boleyn, As a Mother

The birth of Princess Elizabeth Tudor was a crushing disappointment to her mother and a deep, personal embarrassment for her father. Henry had been certain the child Anne Boleyn carried in 1533 would be his heir. A son would be proof of God's favor on Henry's marriage to Anne Boleyn after rejecting his "sinful" union with Katharine of Aragon, which never produced a living boy.

The doctors, astrologers, and soothsayers had all predicted a boy. Only one had been brave enough to say it was a girl Anne carried, and that prediction was not well-received. The birth announcements for a prince had all been drawn up, and celebratory jousts were planned.

When Anne's baby proved to be a girl, it was a shock. Chapuys gleefully reported on Henry's embarrassment, and it was probably true that people may have laughed at the king and his "concubine" who had confidently strutted and flaunted God's favor on their union. The jousts were cancelled and a tiny "s" was scribbled in next to the word "prince" in the birth announcements. Jousts weren't held for the birth of a female; Henry had done the same when Princess Mary was born.

But Henry and Anne did not publicly display any feelings of disappointment. They named the child Elizabeth, the name of both Henry's mother and Anne's. Proclamations went out around England announcing the birth of Henry's first legitimate child, and churches around the nation sang Te Deum in celebration and thanks to God.

There was a grand christening ceremony for
the princess on September 10, with the highest nobles in the land present. The christening gown that Anne made and embroidered for Elizabeth supposedly still survives, having been given to Kateryn Parr and passed down through her family. (Its authenticity is in question.) But Anne is known to have sewn and embroidered many items for her baby.

Babies of that era were swaddled tightly. Elizabeth's cradle would have been gilded, carved and painted. There's an order in Anne Boleyn's expense records for red damask to make Elizabeth's bed covers, and crimson fringe for the head of her cradle.

Anne Boleyn, by all accounts, was a very loving mother. An old story claims that Anne wished to breastfeed Elizabeth personally, but Henry wouldn't allow it. The story demonstrates that Anne's love for her daughter might have been widely known, but it has no basis in fact. Highborn women did not breastfeed their own children - especially queens - and Anne followed royal protocol to the letter. Noble mothers showed their love and concern by choosing the best possible wetnurse for the task, someone who had a proven track-record of healthy babies. Secondly, Anne wanted to get pregnant again as quickly as possible, and breastfeeding was known to reduce fertility.

Other stories tell us of Anne's love for Elizabeth. It's said she kept the baby with her during the first few months of Elizabeth's life, lying on a cushion next to her instead of shut away in the nursery.

Elizabeth was sent away to her own household at Hatfield on December 10, 1533. We can only wonder how Anne felt about this, but she did her duty. Nobles of the era did not raise their own children. Anne had done what she could in choosing the best people to take care of her baby. Many of them were her relatives by blood or marriage.

Along with them went Henry's other daughter, Mary, forcing her to serve the infant sister who had supplanted her in rank. Anne must have been anxious about that, but Mary loved her baby sister and took wonderful care of her, despite her misery in her living conditions.

Princes and Princesses of the era had their own palaces and armies of servants. From birth, they had the same household as an adult prince or princess, even though some of the servant's services would not be utilized for decades. A place at the table was set for the princess, though she would not sit there for years, and meals suitable to her royal dignity were served, though they ended up being consumed by the upper servants in her stead.

Anne's expense records are full of purchases for her daughter. She wrote to Lady Bryan, Elizabeth's nurse, frequently. None of the letters survive, but we know Anne kept in close contact with those charged with her daughter's care. Henry ordered Elizabeth weaned when she was two years and one month old, and noted in his order that Anne was enclosing a letter, likely with further instructions and advice.

She also visited Elizabeth when she could steal some time away from her duties, and the princess was brought to court for holidays and special occasions. When Katharine of Aragon died in January, 1536, Elizabeth made her last appearance at her mother's court, as Henry paraded her around and showed her off to his courtiers.

Only a few days before her arrest, Anne went to her chaplain, Matthew Parker, and extracted from him a promise to look after her daughter if anything happened to her. Parker took that promise seriously and spent the rest of his life trying to fulfill it. The power of Anne's love survived her death, and she was able to protect her daughter beyond the grave.

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Was Anne Boleyn a Bitch?

Traitor, whore, home-wreckerwicked stepmothermurderer...

Anne Boleyn has been given many labels over the years. But what is the actual evidence we have regarding her personality?

In the past few years, there have been some unsympathetic portrayals of her that paint her as a downright nasty creature. Is there anything to support this assessment of her character? What do we know of this girl with the "black and beautiful" eyes who set her country in a roar?

It's difficult to separate fact from fiction. Much of what we "know" about Anne comes from the reports of her enemies, who reported snippets of gossip as fact. Who knows how many layers of "the telephone game" the stories went through before they reached the ears of those who were eager to believe anything bad about her?

What we know about Anne is that she was very intelligent and charming, which made her a popular courtier. Her personality is probably is what drew the king's interest to her, not her physical appearance, which did not conform to the era's standards of beauty. With this charm stripped away from her in some modern portrayals of Anne as a nasty, disagreeable woman, you would be left wondering what the king saw in her at all!

Even as a child, she seems to have charmed those who met her. Margaret, the Archduchess of Austria, wrote to Anne's father after Anne was sent to Margaret's court:

I find her so bright and pleasant for her young age that I am more beholden to you for sending her to me than you are to me.

There, and at the French court, Anne learned manners, grace, and the courtly arts. The worst her enemies could say about Anne's manners were that they were "French." She was not known for rudeness, in other words, even to her enemies. Lancelot de Carles wrote of her:

For her behaviour, manners, attire and tongue she excelled them all.

Sir William Forest, who wrote poetry about Katharine of Aragon, described Anne Boleyn in this fashion:

Anne’s charm lay not so much in her physical appearance as in her vivacious personality, her gracefulness, her quick wit and other accomplishments. She was petite in stature, and had an appealing fragility about her … she shone at singing, making music, dancing and conversation … Not surprisingly, the young men of the court swarmed around her.

Anne would not have drawn people to her with a sparkling personality if she was an unpleasant, bitchy woman. Anne had many enemies because of her reformist faith and the Great Matter, but she also had many friends. Thomas Wyatt's grandson, who wrote a book based on his grandfather's memoirs, said that Anne had a sweet and cheerful demeanor:

She was taken at that time to have a beauty not so whitely as clear and fresh above all we may esteem, which appeared much more excellent by her favour passing sweet and cheerful; and these, both also increased by her noble presence of shape and fashion, representing both mildness and majesty more than can be expressed.

The Wyatt family seems to have cherished Anne's memory. They owned a small prayer book of Anne's that was supposedly given to Wyatt's sister, Margaret, on the scaffold before Anne's execution. The records don't indicate that Margaret was present at the execution, but she was known to be a good friend of Anne's at court.

She appears to have had quite a few women friends, despite portrayals of her as a vain creature who saw other women as competitors. Her only surviving personal letter is to a friend, Lady Bridget Wingfield, whom she says she loves more than any other woman in the world, aside from her mother.

As queen, Anne was polite and kind to the ladies who served her, and generous when they were in need. She made a secret loan to the Countess of Worcester of £100 - a vast sum that was still unpaid at the time of Anne's death - and paid for a midwife for the countess from her own privy purse in 1530. The countess would ultimately end up betraying Anne - some speculate the unpaid loan may have been a motive - but Anne is recorded to have worried about the countess's pregnancy while she was in the Tower.

Charity seems to have been a priority during Anne's short reign. She donated some £1500 per year according to George Wyatt, far more than her predecessor. She engaged her ladies in sewing clothing for the poor. Some paint this in the light of propaganda, but there's no way of judging sincerity through the ages.

Education was another one of her causes. Anne sponsored scholars, including John Cheke. It's known Anne argued with Cromwell about the funds from the dissolved monasteries, which she wished to use to fund schools, instead of going into the king's treasury or the pockets of the nobles. It's hard to paint this in a nefarious light, and so it's sometimes ignored by those who want to portray her as selfish and greedy.

A small snippet of Anne's personality comes through one of the stories she told while incarcerated in the Tower after her fall. When questioned about Mark Smeaton, the musician with whom she was accused of committing adultery, she said she thought she had only spoken to him once, aside from occasionally sending him requests to play certain music.

I found him standing in the round window in my chamber of presence; and I asked why he was so sad [...]

In the grand scheme of court life, Mark was a very minor servant, someone lowly and unimportant, but Anne was kind enough to take the time to talk with him.

[...] and he answered and said it was no matter.

Mark's response was very impolite at best. Instead of bowing and answering her question, as was proper, he sighed and said it wasn't important, because he was hoping she would be curious or flirtatious enough to coax it out of him and he could draw her into a conversation.

Anne immediately recognized this tactic for what it was. 

And then I said, “You may not look to have me speak to you as I should do to a noble man because you be an inferior person.” 

Anne's response wasn't as harsh as it sounds. In fact, it was far kinder than necessary. Instead of ignoring him or ordering him punished for insolence, she explained why she wasn't going to play the flirtatious game with him. As an "inferior" person so much lower in rank than she, he could not be so familiar with the queen. The queen was expected to flirt with her noblemen and have them pay her extravagant compliments. As a commoner, Mark was grossly overstepping his bounds by even attempting it. The best modern comparison is a janitor walking up to a CEO on the job, calling her "honey," and expecting her to respond in kind.

“No, no,” said he, "a look sufficed me; and thus fare you well.”

Mark's retort was even ruder than his previous comment. Not the part about the glance being sufficient, but the fact that he dismissed the queen. Anne's tolerance in this instance is noteworthy, because had she been so arrogant and vengeful as her enemies claim, she surely would have punished this shocking breach of decorum.

There's no doubt that Anne had a temper and was bold enough to express it, unusual for her day and age, and not a character trait that was admired. Today, her self-assertiveness wouldn't be seen as unusual, but in her day, it did her reputation no favors. Anne admitted at her trial that she had not always been as respectful to the king as she should have been, and if some of the outbursts attributed to her by Chapuys are true, she may have said some things in a temper that she later regretted. But haven't we all? If every word we said was recorded and repeated out of context, our utterances might not seem very pleasant at times.

When Anne was put in the Tower, an order was given that she was never to speak to the unfriendly ladies assigned to serve her without Lady Kingston present. What was the reason for this unusual order? The ladies had already been instructed to report every word she said to Sir William Kingston. Was someone afraid that Anne would charm the ladies into friendship and possibly interfere with the mission? An unpleasant person would not be a risk in that regard.

It's recorded that Anne Boleyn's ladies wept as though "bereft of souls" at her execution, and so some historians assume she must have been allowed to have her own serving women to replace the hostile ladies she had been assigned in the Tower. There's no record of it, however. If such a replacement was not made, those hostile ladies came to care deeply for Anne in the scant two weeks she was in the Tower before her execution. Either way, the women around Anne loved her enough to mourn her death.


Her last moments attest to her character. Kingston feared Anne would use her last words to declare herself "a good woman" in front of the crowd, but Anne obeyed convention. She said the usual words of the condemned, and submitted meekly. A bitchy person would have thrown convention to the winds and defiantly condemned the injustice that was happening to her, but Anne had manners and grace, even at the worst moments of her life, and regard for the future of her family.

In the moments before she died, the thousand or so people who came to witness her execution gave Anne a touching tribute. When she knelt for the stroke of the sword, the massive crowd knelt with her, falling to their knees in prayer around the scaffold. Such a thing is not recorded at any other execution of the era. I have a whimsical hope that she saw it.
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