A little before nine o’clock on the morning of the 19th of May 1536, Anne Boleyn was executed on a low scaffold inside the Tower of London’s walls.
The execution had been timed for the previous day, but it was hoped that if the exact time were unknown there would be few spectators. Anne had requested decapitation by the sword, rather than an axe, a French custom, and Henry had agreed. She had, as always, dressed for the occasion: a grey damask robe with a low neck and her hair tied in a net. She had been granted permission to speak and although her words have been variously reported all agreed that she claimed to have ‘come to die and not to preach’ and that she blamed no man for her death.
Her head and trunk, placed in a plain coffin, were buried in front of the altar of the Tower Chapel. The place was not marked.
Stanley Holloway: With her head tucked underneath her arm.
Boadicea's Chariot 
Boa, I haven’t studied it as a phenomenon, but I have the impression that the poor folk condemned to such an end seem quite often to be compos mentis and able to maintain their dignity. Do you think that’s true or is it historians who manage to gild the lily?
Janus – I had intended this to be one of my ‘real’ histories, but did not have time to complete it. I thought it about time that some here were introduced to Stanley Holloway – not his best, but appropriate.
Margaret Pole is one who did not go ‘meekly’ to her fate. But, in general, those condemned to die like this did die with ‘dignity’.
I’ve used inverted commas for the very simple reason that they all left family behind and were well aware that if they made inflammatory speeches, denied their guilt or in any other way tried to show that their conviction was other than ‘just’ their families would almost certainly suffer.
Remember the smuggled videos of Sadam Hussein’s execution? No matter what sort of unprintable-in-a-family-newspaper he might have been, he certainly behaved better than his executioners – even chiding them for their behaviour, ‘What behaviour is this, is this manly?’
I guess if death is inevitable, then all you can do is do it well?
On young Albert Ramsbottom’s birthday
His parents asked what he’d like most;
He said to see t’ Tower of London
And gaze upon Anne Boleyn’s ghost.
They thowt this request were unusual
And at first to refuse were inclined,
‘Til Pa said a trip t’ metrollopse
Might broaden the little lad’s mind.
They took charrybank up to London
And got there at quarter to fower,
Then seeing as pubs wasn’t open
They went straight away to the tower.
They didn’t think much to the buildin’
‘T weren’t what they’d been led to suppose,
And the ‘Bad Word’ Tower didn’t impress them,
They said Blackpool had got one of those.
At last Albert found a Beefeater
And filled the old chap with alarm.
By asking for Ghost of Anne Boleyn
As carried her ‘ead ‘neath her arm.
Said Beefeater ‘You ought to come Fridays
If it’s ghost of Anne Boleyn you seek,
Her union now limits her output
And she only gets one walk a week.
‘But,’ he said, ‘if it’s ghosts that you’re after,
There’s Lady Jane Grey’s to be seen,
She runs around chased by the ‘Eadsman
At midnight on th’ old Tower Green.’
They waited on t’ green till near midnight,
Then thinking they’d time for a sup,
They took out what food they’d brought with them
And waited for t’ ghost to turn up.
On the first stroke of twelve, up jumped Albert,
His mouth full of cold, dripping toast,
With his stick with the ‘orses ‘ead ‘andle
He pointed, and said ‘Here’s the ghost!’
They felt their skins going all goosey
As Lady Jane’s Spectre drew near
And Albert fair swallered his tonsils
When the ‘Eadsman an’ all did appear.
The ‘Eadsman chased Jane round the grass patch
They saw his axe flash in the moon
And seeing as poor lass were ‘eadless
They wondered what what next he would prune.
He suddenly caught sight of Albert
As midnight was on its last chime
As he lifted his axe, father murmered
‘We’ll get the insurance this time.’
At that, Mother rose, taking umbridge;
She said, ‘Put that cleaver away.
You’re not cutting our Albert’s ‘ead off,
Yon collar were clean on today.
The brave little lad stood undaunted
‘Til the ghost were within half a pace.
Then taking the toast he were eating,
Slapped it, dripping side down, in his face.
‘T were a proper set-back for the ‘Eadsman
He let out one ‘owl of despair,
Then taking his ladyfriend with him
He disappeared – just like that, there.
When Pa saw the way as they vanished
He trembled with fear and looked blue,
‘Til Ma went and patted his shoulder
An’ said, ‘Sallright lad, we saw it too.’
Some say ’twere the drippin’ as done it,
From a roast leg of mutton it came,
And as th’ ‘Eadsman had been a Beefeater
They reckon he vanished from shame.
And around Tower Green, from that moment,
They’ve ne’re seen a sign of the ghost,
But when t’ Beefeaters go on night duty,
They take slices of cold drippin’ toast.
That was my immediate thought as well Bravo. I was going to post myself along the same lines. I had a serious senior moment though and forgot who I was to get logged in. 😦
I didn’t know that it was today, thanks for an interesting blog Boa.
I wonder if Henry the eighth ever felt any twinges of regret afterwards? They do say poor little Katherine Howard was absolutely distraught upon her execution, and as you say, Margaret Pole ran screaming from the axe.
It’s hard to imagine the mindset of anyone from the past, but I imagine Anne’s composure must have had something to do with years of practice at being a hardened courtier and a Boleyn/ Howard. Sex, youth and fertility were her currency and she spent them in pursuit of the ultimate prize, without ever thinking of saving for a rainy day! She must have known she was playing with fire from day one; and so to my mind, this gives her final acceptance of her fate a great deal of pathos and integrity. Live by the sword; die by the sword, as they say…perhaps she was thinking along those lines.
Marie Antoinette was said to have blushed when they held her head up after she was guillotined.
The constable of the Tower, Sir William Kingston, sent reports about Anne’s behaviour during her imprisonment to Cromwell. One historian states that ‘her words, if true. savour of Ophelia’. Kingston wrote:
She had some thought that she might be spared. On the 16th of May she was induced to ‘admit of an impediment’ that rendered her marriage to Henry invalid and she spoke of going to Antwerp or into a nunnery. She obviously thought, as one might, that if her marriage had been not been valid she could not be found guilty of adultery. But there was a faction at court that was determined to see her, her brother and their friends die.
Even the Spanish ambassador, who called her the ‘Night Crow’ said that Anne and her brother, George, defended themselves so ably that they would have been acquitted by an impartial tribunal.
I, think, as a few here have said, that faced with the inevitability of death she determined to ‘die well’.
Oddly enough, it was only in her last days that she gained any sympathy from ‘the man / woman in the street’. To the populace at large, she had always been that ‘goggle-eyed whore’. Despite Henry’s assertion that Anne’s infidelities had caused him great grief, most knew that he intended to marry again – and they knew that Anne was being disposed of to make way for a new Queen.
In 1532, an Italian visitor had written that she had:
And that was her problem – she and her marriage had been used by the powerful to get rid of Wolsey, to further a French alliance, and to promote religious reforms. All she had was Henry’s favour, and as others (like Wolsey) had found Henry was quite happy to throw anyone to the lions when they no longer served his purpose.
I don’t know that Henry had any ‘regrets’. But, when he was told of Katherine Howard’s infidelities he is reputed as saying that he knew that on ‘another occasion’ he had been misled.
Had her son lived it would never have happened.
Somewhat ironic that the only one who produced a son died with such immediate dispatch.