Formidable Courage

The historical record, as well as the testimonies of her friends and her enemies, overwhelmingly proves that Anne Boleyn was falsely accused of adultery. Her conviction was part of an elaborate character assassination engineered by her husband’s right-hand man Thomas Cromwell, her personal and political enemies, and the King himself, who gave his approval to the proceedings.

The day after her trial, May 17, Anne’s marriage to Henry was annulled, leaving him free to marry again. The annulment also made the 2 1/2-year old Princess Elizabeth legally illegitimate. For a few hours Anne cherished the hope that Henry would have mercy and send her and Elizabeth away, perhaps even to Antwerp, one of the Protestant hubs of Europe. That hope, however, was quickly dashed with news that her execution was still on the schedule.

Anne’s brother and the other men accused as her lovers were also killed on May 17. All but Mark Smeaton, the minstrel, maintained their innocence. Anne allegedly told her jailer,

“Alas! Has [Smeaton] not then cleared me of the public shame he has brought me to? Alas, I fear his soul suffers for his false accusations! But for my brother and those others, I doubt not but they are now in the presence of that Great King before whom I am to be tomorrow.”

London simmered with fury against King Henry and public opinion was high in Anne’s favor. Her jailer wrote of his fear that some of Anne’s supporters would attack the Tower and try to rescue her, but he also wrote of Anne’s courage in the face of death:

“I have seen men and also women executed and they have been in great sorrow; but to my knowledge this lady has much joy and pleasure in death.”

Finally the morning of May 19 dawned and Anne, dressed in black, ascended the scaffold “with an untroubled countenance.” The crowd in attendance fell silent as Anne made a short parting speech.

“Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that, whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never: and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best.

“And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me.”

She took her place on her knees, praying aloud: “O Lord have mercy on me, to God I commend my soul. To Jesus Christ I commend my soul; Lord Jesus receive my soul.”

“Which words she spake with a smiling countenance,” an eyewitness reported, “and with that word suddenly the hangman of Calais smote off her head at one stroke with a sword.” The cannons fired, announcing the death of Anne Boleyn.

Not far away, Thomas Cranmer–the Archbishop of Canterbury who’d been too afraid to give more than a lukewarm defense of the Queen–reportedly looked to the sky as the cannon boomed. “She who has been the Queen of England on earth will today become a Queen in Heaven,” he said, and then sank down on a bench and wept.

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For the rest of Henry’s reign, the royal court avoided any mention of Anne Boleyn. Her emblems and banners were hidden away or destroyed. Even the most well-known portrait of her (featured several times on this blog) is probably only a copy of a lost masterpiece, likely destroyed after her death.

Her friends and admirers, however, quietly kept her memory alive. Protestants all over Europe mourned her death–Phillip Melancthon, one of Martin Luther’s disciples, called it a “catastrophe”–yet the Reformation continued with relentless speed, especially in England.

Henry would have four more wives after Anne. Jane Seymour died mere days after giving Henry a son, who later became Edward VI. Anne of Cleves, wife #4, was divorced after a few months because Henry didn’t like her looks. Wife #5, Catherine Howard, was executed after being found guilty of adultery–but this time, the charges were legitimate.

Wife #6 was an intelligent, kindly woman of strong Protestant convictions, who took Henry’s motherless children under her wing. Her name was Catherine Parr.

Ten-year-old Princess Elizabeth had a real mother again; the genuine affection between them lasted until Catherine’s death in 1548. The new Queen’s skillful rule of England while Henry was away at war in 1545, as well as her dignity and firm convictions, made an impression on the precocious redheaded princess.

The odds were against Elizabeth her entire childhood–yet by God’s grace she survived and through her we can see Anne Boleyn’s ultimate triumph. When her older sister “Bloody Mary” died childless in 1558, Elizabeth succeeded her as Queen, establishing Protestant rule once and for all and ushering in England’s “Golden Age.”

William Shakespeare wrote his plays during Elizabeth’s reign, while Sir Walter Raleigh explored a certain territory of North America, naming it “Virginia,” after the Virgin Queen. The Spanish Armada attempted to invade England but was beaten back, marking the end of Spain’s naval dominion. And while Elizabeth wasn’t particularly friendly towards the radical reforms of the Puritans, the imperfect but improved political situation did provide enough freedom for them to get a foothold. The foundations were thus laid for the Separatist “Pilgrims,” who came to America during the reign of Elizabeth’s successor, James I.

Elizabeth believed her mother had been innocent and surrounded herself with people who had either known or were related to Anne. She restored Anne’s legal title as Queen of England in Parliament. When she died in 1603, she was still wearing a ring that opened to reveal portraits of herself and her mother; this ring was brought to Elizabeth’s cousin James Stuart, as proof that he was now King of England.

In conclusion, I believe Anne Boleyn is an important historical figure for two reasons:

1) She was a woman of the Reformation. She knew from the Bible and the Christian ladies around her that God hadn’t created women to be chattel. This doesn’t mean Anne was a rip-roaring feminist; she wasn’t. But she did prove that a well-educated woman with strong convictions and Christian confidence could have a positive impact. Henry may have gotten rid of her in the end, but in the Providence of God, it was her influence on him that helped advance the English Reformation.

2) She was the mother of Elizabeth I–and Elizabeth’s impact on Western Civilization is HUGE! You could easily say that without Elizabeth, we wouldn’t have the Pilgrims. And without the Pilgrims, we wouldn’t have America. You and I might not even be here–and if we were, we’d probably be speaking Spanish. Elizabeth may not have been a born-again believer herself, but she did have a Christian worldview instilled in her by the memory of her mother, the love of Catherine Parr, and the numerous tutors, relatives, and friends who made a concerted effort to raise her as Anne Boleyn had wished.

An imperfect woman of courageous faith–a patroness of education and Reformation-era art and literature–a catalyst of Protestant Christianity in England–the mother of one of England’s most important monarchs–these qualities are why I’ve spent the last three weeks writing about Anne Boleyn. I hope these posts have sparked your interest and shed even a teeny bit of light on her true story!

[Sorry it's been a while since I wrote last...trying to catch up after a week of slaughtering chickens ]

In last Monday’s post I told the story of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn’s courtship and early marriage. All seemed to be fairly promising, right? Except, of course, for hints of palace intrigue: Anne’s enemies were looking for an opportunity early on to ruin her influence over Henry and the nascent English Reformation.

Anne is often given the epithet, “Anne of a Thousand Days,” since she was Queen for only three years. What could’ve happened in that short amount of time to transform the most powerful Queen Consort in English history into a victim of the executioner’s sword?

Well, quite a lot happened in those three years.

Anne spent much of her time promoting men and women who shared her religious and political views: namely, Protestants and government reformers. Thanks to her influence, Henry appointed Thomas Cranmer, a Protestant, as the first Archbishop of Canterbury. Some of Henry’s new advisors and friends were also men who opposed the Catholic conservative faction: men like Sir Henry Norris, Sir Anthony Denny (known for his “sincere affection to God and His holy word”), and Anne’s own evangelical brother, George Boleyn.

There is evidence to show that Anne, rather than encouraging or engaging in promiscuity, charged the members of her household to lives of honor and godliness. She appointed Protestant chaplains in her household, “men of great learning,” according to George Wyatt, the grandson of one of her friends. Hugh Latimer, the great reformer, later said that Anne told her chaplains, “I have chosen you to be the lanterns and light of my court [to teach them] . . . the wholesome doctrine and infallible knowledge of Christ’s gospel.”

It wasn’t a peaceful life for Anne, however. She believed both she and Baby Elizabeth were in constant danger from the allies of Catherine of Aragon. She had frequent conflicts with her stepdaughter Mary, who, in spite of Anne’s attempts to make friends with her, refused to acknowledge the new Queen. These confrontations ended with Anne in an exasperated fury and Mary in continued rebellion against her own father’s wishes.

Anne was also under immense pressure to give her husband a son. She suffered a miscarriage in 1534 and another, far more tragic one in 1536, mere months before her own death. This last baby “had the appearance of a male child”–a severe blow to Anne, who was emotionally distraught.

Henry’s paranoia reared its ugly head. With only Mary and Elizabeth as legitimate heirs to the throne, England was still in danger. Why wouldn’t God give him a son?! Surely this marriage wasn’t cursed like his marriage with Catherine?

But perhaps it was cursed, because Henry had a romance with Anne’s sister Mary years ago. That was incest, according to Catholic tradition, and would make his marriage to Anne unlawful. (Seriously, the man kept coming up with excuses like this, and never once thought he might be the problem. *grumble*)

The most sinister threat, however, was a powerful man who started out as Anne’s ally but became one of her deadliest enemies. Thomas Cromwell, a Protestant (but no relation to the great Oliver!) had succeeded Sir Thomas More as Henry VIII’s right-hand man. He was a consummate politician, probably more concerned with centralizing Henry’s kingship and his own position rather than with real reform.

Cromwell wanted an alliance with the Holy Roman Empire; the Queen opposed it. He wanted to seize the wealth of the monasteries in England and use it to line Henry’s coffers; Anne wanted to see the money given to private organizations and schools. Needless to say, both fought hard for Henry’s ear, and Cromwell soon saw Anne as a threat to his life when one of her chaplains publicly denounced him as an enemy of the Queen.

Not long after Anne’s tragic miscarriage of a son in January 1536, Master Cromwell started playing that nasty game of “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Taking advantage of the Catholics’ hatred for Anne, as well as Henry’s new fascination with a certain Lady Jane Seymour, Cromwell and his cronies came up with an elaborate plot to do away with Anne and the powerful Boleyn faction.

The plot went something like this. Anne would be accused of adultery, which was high treason against the king. Not only that, but Anne and her lover(s) would also be found guilty of plotting to kill Henry and take over the country. The punishment for treason was, of course, death.

Granted, that seems awfully drastic to today’s ears. But both Henry couldn’t simply divorce Anne, and both he and Cromwell knew it. Henry had turned the world upside down for her; he’d look like a fool if he simply banished her and took another woman as his Queen. (His logic and Cromwell’s, not mine.) Besides, Anne was a serious threat to Cromwell; if he wanted to keep his own head safe, she had to be removed forever.

As we’ve seen in previous posts, Anne was arrested on May 2, 1536, on charges of adultery against the King–charges she fiercely denied. Henry’s closest friend, Sir Henry Norris, was accused as the foremost of her lovers; Sir Francis Weston, Sir William Brereton, and a minstrel named Mark Smeaton were also arrested, along with two others who were later released.

Most horrible of all, George Boleyn, Anne’s influential younger brother, was arrested and accused of incest with his sister.

The official charges are so lurid, I’m not even going to quote them here. Suffice it to say that they accuse Anne and the aforementioned men of having several sordid encounters, many of them specifically dated, others mentioned only by the catch-all phrase, “several times before and after.”

Most of these dates could/can be easily disproved: at the time of these encounters, Anne was either 1) pregnant, 2) in seclusion after a pregnancy, or 3) not even where the official charge said she was at the time. Author Alison Weir (who isn’t usually sympathetic to Anne) states that:

“Close scrutiny of the facts suggests that thirteen out of the twenty-one charges [of adultery] were impossible, and that if, four and a half centuries later it can be established that only eight were even plausible – which in itself suggests that even these were not genuine offences – then the case against Anne is shaky indeed.”

In spite of the nonsense charges, Norris, Weston, and Brereton, were all promptly “convicted,” courageously denying their guilt to the end. Smeaton, the minstrel, was the only one who pleaded guilty, probably in the hopes it would save his life.

On May 15, thirteen days after she was arrested, both Anne and George endured their separate trials.

“She walked forth in fearful beauty [and] seemed unmoved as a stock, not as one who had to defend her cause, but with the bearing of one coming to great honour.”–Lancelot de Carles

while George Boleyn

“made answer so prudently and wisely to all articles laid against him, that marvel it was to hear, but never would confess anything, but made himself as clear as though he had never offended.”–Charles Wriothesley

Both Boleyn siblings maintained their innocence with astonishing courage, though in different ways. Author Claire Cherry writes:

“Ironically, during life it was Anne who was the more tempestuous and reckless of the two siblings. Yet she faced her accusers with the quiet and restrained dignity of a true Queen. It was her brother who approached the trial with all guns blazing.”

Claire Ridgeway writes in her article, “The Trial of Anne Boleyn,”

“Anne’s quick wit and intelligence helped her to defend herself admirably, but she was fighting a losing battle, the guilty verdict had been decided before she had even walked into the court. The jury were unanimous in finding Anne guilty and after they gave their verdict Anne was stripped of her crown and her titles, although [Alison] Weir points out that her title of Queen was not mentioned – she was Queen without a crown.”

When Anne heard her sentence–that she was to die either by beheading or burning at the stake–she responded by saying:

“I do not say that I have always borne towards the King the humility which I owed him, considering his kindness and the great honour he showed me and the great respect he always paid me; I admit too, that often I have taken it into my head to be jealous of him… But may God be my witness if I have done him any other wrong.”

George, too, was sentenced to die. He and the other men were sentenced to die on May 17. Anne would have to wait a few more days. Henry, gallivanting with Lady Jane Seymour, had sent for a French swordsman days before Anne was sentenced, but the executioner was a day late. Anne would have to wait four agonizing days for her own death.

Depressing, isn’t it? Anne was a victim of the politicians. So you see, things haven’t changed too much in 500 years.

Legend has it that on May 6, 1836, Queen Anne wrote to her husband Henry VIII from the Tower of London. The authenticity of this letter has been in question for centuries, but it highlights the stress Anne was enduring and appeals to a far different version of the embattled Queen than tradition provides.

Sir, your Grace’s displeasure, and my Imprisonment are Things so strange unto me, as what to Write, or what to Excuse, I am altogether ignorant . . . if, as you say, confessing Truth indeed may procure my safety, I shall with all Willingness and Duty perform your Command.

But let not your Grace ever imagine that your poor Wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a Fault, where not so much as Thought thereof proceeded . . . [N]ever Prince had Wife more Loyal in all Duty, and in all true Affection, than you have found in Anne Boleyn . . .

You have chosen me, from a low Estate, to be your Queen and Companion, far beyond my Desert or Desire. If then you found me worthy of such Honour . . . let not any light Fancy, or bad Counsel of mine Enemies, withdraw your Princely Favour from me; neither let . . . that unworthy Stain of a Disloyal Heart towards your good Grace, ever cast so foul a Blot on your most Dutiful Wife, and the Infant Princess your Daughter . . .

Try me, good King, but let me have a Lawful Trial, and let not my sworn Enemies sit as my Accusers and Judges; yes, let me receive an open Trial . . . then shall you see, either mine Innocency cleared, your Suspicion and Conscience satisfied, the Ignominy and Slander of the World stopped, or my Guilt openly declared . . .

But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my Death, but an Infamous Slander must bring you the enjoying of your desired Happiness; then I desire of God, that he will pardon your great Sin therein . . . that he will not call you to a strict Account for your unprincely and cruel usage of me, at his General Judgement-Seat, where both you and my self must shortly appear, and in whose Judgement, I doubt not, (whatsover the World may think of me) mine Innocence shall be openly known, and sufficiently cleared.

There would be no lawful trial. In the weeks to come, Anne’s marriage was annulled, her daughter illegitimized, and she herself was sentenced to death–all with her own husband’s approval. It was the chilling end of Anne’s tumultuous relationship with Henry VIII.

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The King was not at all the kind of man a woman with high moral standards would choose. An infamous womanizer, he married his older brother’s widow, Catherine of Aragon, when he came to the throne at the age of 18. Catherine, the youngest daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, was a devout Catholic and a woman of iron will. Their daughter, later known as “Bloody Mary,” was the only surviving child of the marriage; Catherine lost several sons over the years.

While the King committed adultery with one lady friend after another, he started to fret. He had very real fears for the future of his kingdom. His father had been a usurper, making Henry’s own claim to the throne shaky. A legitimate son would solidify Henry’s hold on England–but his only legitimate child was a daughter. The rule of England would, therefore, pass to Mary, only to be swallowed up by some outside empire when she married a foreign prince.

That wasn’t the extent of Henry’s panic, however. He was seized with a maddening terror that by marrying his brother’s widow, he had violated the Law of God. He–and many others throughout the years–saw Leviticus 20:21 as a clear prohibition against such a marriage. ”And if a man shall take his brother’s wife, it is an unclean thing: he hath uncovered his brother’s nakedness; they shall be childless.” This had, in fact, been an obstacle years before, but the Pope gave Henry and Catherine a special dispensation because of it.

In spite of the dispensation, Henry wondered if he’d been cursed by this marriage. Catherine hadn’t given him one healthy son and Mary was no good to him or to England. Not only that, but the royal marriage had deteriorated beyond repair, with Henry repeatedly unfaithful and Catherine . . . well, let’s just say Catherine didn’t make herself a very appealing wife, either, with her morbid religious asceticism. (That’s not to excuse Henry at all, just to point out that there were problems on both sides.)

Henry’s interest in Anne probably started in late 1524/early 1525. He’d already had an affair with her sister Mary, while Anne was still recovering emotionally from a failed engagement to the nobleman Henry Percy (the first hoped-for match that brought her home from France fell through long ago). Anne was good-looking and interesting; Henry thought she’d amuse him for a time, at least until he could secure a divorce and marry some foreign princess.

Anne, however, wasn’t interested in becoming any man’s plaything. She promptly left court as soon as Henry’s interest became clear and returned to her family’s home at Hever Castle, south of London in Kent.

Henry bombarded her with letters, trying to win her over. Any other potential suitors who might’ve rescued her from this situation were warned away. Anne was backed into a dangerous corner. Henry was already known for his ruthless streak. She, her parents, and her brother were all at risk the longer she resisted the King.

Finally she told him why she wouldn’t become his companion. Her religious convictions forbade it. She wouldn’t be any man’s mistress, not even the King’s. She would “give her maidenhead into her husband’s hands.” That was that.

No woman had ever given the egotistical Henry the what-for–but rather than daunt him, it inspired a new admiration for her. At some point he came up with a different idea (or did Anne suggest it herself?). He was already intending to replace Catherine; what if he didn’t marry a French princess at all, but instead married Anne Boleyn?

Anne agreed–whether reluctantly or with relief, we have no idea. We can argue whether or not she should’ve resisted Henry to the bitter end rather than be unequally yoked with an unbeliever–but what we do know, from comments her close friends later passed on to her daughter Elizabeth, is that Anne was determined to make the most of her situation.

If Henry had indeed been under God’s discipline for an unlawful marriage . . . and if God had placed Anne, a woman of evangelical convictions, in Henry’s life . . . then here was an opportunity to influence both King and country, and advance the blossoming Reformation in her own country.

One of the first times Anne exercised her new influence began with a kerfuffle within her household. One of her ladies was caught with a book Anne had loaned to her: The Obedience of the Christian Man and How Christian Rulers Ought to Govern, written by  the great Bible translator William Tyndale. When Anne heard the book had been confiscated and taken to the King, she responded coolly that it would prove “the dearest book that ever dean or cardinal took away.” She then hurried to Henry and persuaded him to read the book.

Anne knew exactly what she was doing. One of Tyndale’s resounding points was that the Pope had no authority over individual kings or kingdoms. Kings were subject to civil and biblical law, yes–but not to the Pope’s law. And if the Pope’s law contradicted God’s law, the King certainly did not have to obey.

Needless to say, this was a revolutionary idea and Henry thought it a dandy one. Whether or not he believed it for truth’s sake or for his own purposes, he acted upon it. For the next three years he fought the Roman Church for his divorce, claiming that the Pope’s dispensation for his marriage to Catherine had been unlawful and they were never legally married. The Pope wouldn’t give him the divorce, while the Holy Roman Empire threatened war if Henry left Catherine (the Emperor, after all, was her nephew).

So . . . an irate Henry simply declared himself independent of the Catholic Church, established the Church of England, and got his divorce from the new church. He finally married Anne, for all intents and purposes, in a private ceremony in November 1532. (The exact date and nature of the ceremony is debatable, but they did make some kind of  formal commitment in November 1532 that would’ve been legally binding, with a more “official” marriage ceremony in January 1533.)

Anne was coronated on June 1, 1533; she remains the only Queen Consort to be crowned with St. Edward the Confessor’s crown, a privilege usually reserved for the ruling monarch. She was then paraded through Protestant-dominated London, amid great rejoicing and pageantry.

Catherine always insisted there was no Queen in England but herself–but she was ignored and banished to her own palace. The Protestants at court were in the ascendancy with Anne’s rise, while the once-powerful Catholic faction was in a panic. They knew the authority of the Pope in England had been severely compromised, if not destroyed, and many hoped for a Spanish invasion to set things to rights. Later Eustace Chapuys, Imperial ambassador, would call for “a remedy for the heretical doctrines and practices of the Concubine [Anne]–the principal cause of the spread of Lutheranism in this country.”

In spite of the conflict within court, however, one happy event changed Anne’s life forever. She gave birth to her first child on September 7, 1533–a girl. It was a disappointment to both parents, who had, of course, hoped for a son, but Anne shrugged it off and loved her daughter fiercely.

The baby had her father’s red hair, but her mother’s facial features; she would also inherit Anne’s sharp intellect and Henry’s rash temper.

Her name was Elizabeth.

On this day in 1536, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, wrote to Henry VIII after hearing about the arrest of Queen Anne:

If the reports of the Queen be true, they are only to her dishonor, not yours. I am clean amazed, for I had never better opinion of woman . . . I was most bound to her of all creatures living, and therefore beg that I may, with your Grace’s favor, wish and pray that she may declare herself innocent.

Cranmer, who owed his position to Anne and her family’s influence, wouldn’t go so far as to defend Anne. The atmosphere was too dangerous and no one wanted to set off Henry. If he was capable of sending his own wife to the Tower, what would he do to someone more distant to him?

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My plan is to follow Anne’s last days, as well as share with my readers what I’ve learned in the past few years about her life, her personal beliefs, her interests, and her legacy. Call it my own little personal blog party, if you will, without the link pool (although I look forward to comments and discussions!!!).

Now, after I published my ROFL post, I realized that I’d probably better give two important disclaimers before I plunge into this project!

1) I’m never going to say Anne was perfect. Ever. BUT I am going to say that she was an admirable woman in many ways, and far from the evil conniving seductress I thought she was when I was first introduced to British history. I’m even going to say that she was, as far as I can tell, a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. Perfect? No. A forgotten heroine of the Protestant Reformation, and an important figure in Western Civilization? Yes.

2) These posts are not meant to infuriate Catholic readers. That’s certainly not my intention, I promise! However, you should know that I am a Protestant Christian of the Reformed tradition. I owe a great deal to people like Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, etc.–all men who fought against the excesses and theology of the Roman Catholic Church.

Anne Boleyn embraced the Protestant Reformation and heavily influenced its spread in England. Because of this, some of her worst enemies were Catholics; some were members of her own family, while others were foreign ambassadors and rulers–including the former Queen of England, Catherine of Aragon.

That said, I have absolutely no hard feelings against my Catholic friends and readers, and I truly hope they don’t leave here with hard feelings against me 

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The Queen who entered the Tower of London as a prisoner on May 2, 1536, was probably born sometime in 1501. She was the second surviving child of Thomas Boleyn, an aspiring young nobleman; her mother, Elizabeth, was part of the influential Howard family, so the match was a very good one for Thomas Boleyn.

Anne’s father, a diplomat, was an anomaly. He was well-educated and industrious, as well as rather daring: he was known to smuggle Protestant literature (although it wasn’t called “Protestant” quite yet) from the Continent and into England, an activity that could’ve ended him up in prison or worse. He was also very keen on giving his children the best education Continental Europe could offer, and saw to it that his two daughters, Mary and Anne, were as educated as their little brother George. This alone set the Boleyn girls apart from most girls their age; few Englishwomen could read or write.

Anne was sent to the court of Margaret of Austria, the daughter of one of the powerful Holy Roman Emperors. Margaret was a woman of astonishing intellect–again, a rare thing in 16th-century Europe. She wrote to Thomas in 1513 after receiving Anne as a twelve-year-old maid of honor:

. . . I am confident of being able to deal with her in a way which will give you satisfaction, so that on your return the two of us will need no intermediary other than she. 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.

Under Margaret, Anne received the first phase of a thorough education. She spent only a year with Margaret, however, before leaving the court of Burgundy for France. Henry VIII’s younger sister, Mary Tudor, was about to become Louis XII’s queen, and Mary specifically requested that the two Boleyn girls join her retinue. Thomas had no choice but to reluctantly move Anne to the more disreputable French court.

Mere weeks after the wedding, Louis XII died. Mary Tudor remarried, leaving Francis I and his wife, Claude, as rulers of France. Anne, at only fourteen years of age, now served the oft-ill, oft-pregnant Queen Claude, while Mary Boleyn cavorted with the men of the licentious royal court and scandalized the good Boleyn name.

In spite of the decadence of the nobility, however, calls for reform in the Catholic Church were spreading in France. Religious reformers, led by Jacques Lefevre d’Etaples, spoke out against the Church’s excesses; Lefevre himself published a radical commentary on Paul’s letters in 1512, and later translated the Bible into French.

By 1521 Lutheran ideas had sufficiently infiltrated France and they were condemned at the Sorbonne. Under Henry II (1547-59) the attack intensified with the formation of government policy which allowed for the trial and execution of heretics.

–Article, “The Protestant Reformation in France”

Francis I’s sister, Marguerite of Navarre, was an outspoken evangelical who influenced Anne mightily. (Her daughter, Jeanne d’Albret, later became “the acknowledged spiritual and political leader of the French Huguenot movement.”) Some believe Anne even served Marguerite; that may not be quite accurate, but evidence does show that Marguerite had a significant, personal impact on the young handmaiden’s faith and that they became friends.

Anne herself owned a copy of a French Bible, along with many “evangelical” books and tracts. These taught “radical” ideas straight from the Bible very few could read in their own language at the time. Justification was by faith in Jesus Christ, not works. There was one mediator between God and man–not the Pope, but Christ. Christians were called to lives of holiness and purity–not to earn their way into Heaven, but simply to glorify God.

By the time Anne left France, she was a firm adherent of “the New Religion” and passionate to see church reform. As Eric Ives wrote:

“It is, indeed, hard to deny Anne a personal faith. Apart from the Bible in which, significantly, we know she had an interest in Paul’s epistles, the works she read and collected are certainly redolent of a Christianity of commitment and not of routine observance.”

When an excellent prospect for marriage to a wealthy nobleman turned up in 1521, Anne returned to England. She had been away from home for eight years. She was twenty years old, accomplished and well-spoken, and, though not the blond-haired, blue-eyed Tudor ideal, she was very attractive. She was of “middling stature” and tanned complexion, but she dressed in the stylish French fashion, with her dark hair only half-restrained by the distinctive French hood. “She knew well how to use with effect” her eyes, described as “black and beautiful.”

As Joanna Denny points out, “she had been in the company of clever, strong-willed women like the Regent Margaret of Austria and [Marguerite] of Navarre. The influence of evangelism had enabled women of character to take an alternative path, one that offered Anne Boleyn a different future” from the indolence and immorality of courtly life.

This is the background of “the little Boleyn [la petite Boulain],” as Margaret of Austria called her. This is the background of the future Queen of England.