El rincón literario

Yes and no. The normal solid crown? No way you can place it on a French hood or gable hood. Stained glass windows often depict it that way(especially in England), but it wouldn't hold in place. It would slide out, not fit, look odd. It's simply a fictional depiction emphasising rank, not really how it was worn. For men and women.

(Sometimes other forms of art did it too. In stained glass it is basically a must in Henry VIII's reign and before. King and Queen always have a crown.)

However there also existed something which looks to us a bit like crown, but it doesn't seem to be as solid, and frequently this one seems to copy shape of headwear beneath it:

Here it sits on top of 15th headwear worn by Margaret of Denmark Queen of Scotland.

In late 15th century it showed a lot, in 16th in N-W Europe not so much, but I know of example when this was sitting on top of hat, in about 1540. Hat worn by a queen, which in this way was mimicking wearing a crown.

However, bejewelled coif/cap could absolutely be worn beneath a crown and my research would actually suggest it was part of ceremonious outfits for coronations, for not just royalty, but also the highest nobility-here it is upon Catherine of Aragon:

In most sources, women wore their hair loose when they were crowned. But my question arose when I wondered, how did they use their crowns at other times?

Thanks to Google, I found this image of an actress playing Anne Boleyn in a play by William Shakespeare about Henry VIII.

Yes and no. The normal solid crown? No way you can place it on a French hood or gable hood. Stained glass windows often depict it that way(especially in England), but it wouldn't hold in place. It would slide out, not fit, look odd. It's simply a fictional depiction emphasising rank, not really how it was worn. For men and women.

(Sometimes other forms of art did it too. In stained glass it is basically a must in Henry VIII's reign and before. King and Queen always have a crown.)

However there also existed something which looks to us a bit like crown, but it doesn't seem to be as solid, and frequently this one seems to copy shape of headwear beneath it:

Here it sits on top of 15th headwear worn by Margaret of Denmark Queen of Scotland.

In late 15th century it showed a lot, in 16th in N-W Europe not so much, but I know of example when this was sitting on top of hat, in about 1540. Hat worn by a queen, which in this way was mimicking wearing a crown.

However, bejewelled coif/cap could absolutely be worn beneath a crown and my research would actually suggest it was part of ceremonious outfits for coronations, for not just royalty, but also the highest nobility-here it is upon Catherine of Aragon:

In most sources, women wore their hair loose when they were crowned. But my question arose when I wondered, how did they use their crowns at other times?

“Quite what these ‘instruments of sorcery’ may have been is not known, but the thought of Jane indulging in a little witchcraft to pass the time is an intriguing one. Presumably her husband never found out!”

But seriously, I think the ancient herbalism that women were taught in the past is underestimated.

inscriptions in a few of anne boleyn’s books of hours

1: “le temps viendra, je anne boleyn (the time will come, i anne boleyn)” under an image of judgement day, with an astrolabe representing time drawn.

2: a love note written by henry viii to anne - (in french) “if you remember my love in your prayers as strongly as i adore you, i shall hardly be forgotten, for i am yours. Henry R forever.” - beneath a wounded and praying jesus

3: anne answers henry with a rhyming couplet - “be daly prove you shall me fynde, to be to you bothe lovynge and kynde.” - underneath an image of the archangel gabriel informing the virgin mary she will birth the son of God.

shared jewellery between Catherine of Aragon and Jane Seymour:

it's IHS! :)

and the cross is the Tau cross. it's not as good quality, as we're relying on Leemput's copy of the original, but Jane might be wearing it again (as a pendant) in the Whitehall Mural.

“[...] a tau cross that appears in both queenly inventories can be seen in portrait miniatures of both Jane Seymour and Kateryn Parr – its distinctive style sets it apart from the other crosses in the inventory. The miniatures [...] confirm that the cross was a part of the collection from at least the reign of Jane Seymour, and James suggested that it may even have been owned by Anne Boleyn. However, a miniature of Catherine of Aragon [...] shows her wearing a similar tau cross, so it is equally likely that it originated with her. [The Jesuses] may have been the IHS brooches/pendants that can be seen adorning portraits of both Catherine of Aragon and Jane Seymour [...] If this was the case and the Jesus was the same as that which adorns Jane Seymour, then it would fit the description of the item described as ‘a Jehus of golde conteignyng xxxij diamondes hauyng thre peerlles hanging at the same’, and ‘a Ihesus furnysshed with xxxij Dyamountes and three perles pendaunt’. It also matches a description of a jewel found in Henry VIII’s 1519 and 1530 jewel inventories: ‘A diamond Jhs with three hanging pearls’. This could be nothing more than coincidence, but it is interesting to consider the possibility that it was given to Jane Seymour by the King before passing into the hands of her successors. [...] Catherine can be seen wearing a border of pearls, gold and diamonds, whilst the remainder of her jewels clearly represent her piety. The brooch with the letters IHS – the first three letters of the name Jesus in Greek – and the necklace to which a tau cross is attached, could have been a deliberate choice by Catherine in order to convey her religious devotion. It is possible that the tau cross was the same as that which appears in miniatures of Jane Seymour and Kateryn Parr – it seems remarkably similar. Although the crosses worn by the latter two queens show two fewer diamonds, they are otherwise identical in design and it has already been noted that it was not uncommon for jewels to be refashioned. Similarly, the same tau crosses worn by Jane Seymour and Kateryn Parr appear in both Kateryn and Katherine Howard’s inventories. If Catherine of Aragon had also owned the tau cross then it serves as further visual evidence that queens had access to the belongings of others, and there may be yet a further example of this. Although not identical, the IHS brooch worn by Catherine is similar to the one worn in Holbein’s portrait of Jane Seymour. Such designs retained their popularity until the seventeenth century, and chapter two suggested that Jane’s brooch may have been given to her by her husband. However, Jane was known to be a great admirer of Catherine, in whose household she had once served. If Jane’s jewels had been 635 deliberately chosen for their similarity, it could reflect a desire from Jane to emulate the pious example of queenship that had been set by her former mistress.”

the Parr miniature referred to is here:

in terms of Henry VIII’s acquisition of Catherine of Aragon's jewelry, in Letters and Papers:

Maria Hayward, Dress at the Court of King Henry VIII

Maria Hayward, Dress at the Court of King Henry VIII

(from Maria Hayward, Dress at the Court of Henry VIII)

“(“having the pinkish colour of flesh” or “blood red”), “Carn- is the Latin root for ‘flesh,’ and incarnates is Latin for ‘flesh-coloured,’ […] “Since then, the adjective has come to refer to the dark-red color of freshly cut, fleshy meat as well as to the pinkish color of the outer skin of some humans”.”

How wonderful!

It would be great if big-budget productions actually researched the dyes available at that time. I'm tired of the dark color palettes in the costumes. People weren't allergic to vibrant colors.

Elizabeth took care to demonstrate her public commitment to the reformers’ doctrinal principles. She signalled her modesty and virtue by wearing such plain and sober gowns that the king approvingly called her his ‘sweet sister Temperance’. The effect was not only to distance herself from the scandal that had threatened to engulf her after the fall of Thomas Seymour, but also to distinguish herself from her elder half-sister Mary, whose devotion to Rome and her mother’s Catholic faith was unswerving, and who refused to abandon the ornately jewelled costumes she wore along with her rosary

Helen Castor, Elizabeth I: A Study in Insecurity

Ascham [Elizabeth’s tutor] also believed in simplicity of dress, as becoming the Protestant bluestocking into which he was turning [Elizabeth]; and surprisingly enough to anyone remembering the elaborate costumes in which she later luxuriated, during her brother’s reign she was noted for the sobriety of her virtuous example. In other respects she was not particularly puritanical, enjoying hunting and dancing, just as Edward enjoyed ‘war games’ and circus acts. To what extent this restraint was due to Ascham’s influence, to a desire to ingratiate herself with her brother, or to repair a reputation somewhat besmirched by her supposed relations with Seymour, we do not know. Whatever the motive, it still has a calculated air about it. Perhaps it was no more than a desire to distance herself from her sister Mary, whose flamboyant taste in dress was as notorious as her religious conservatism

it's actually rather strange to me how little emphasis is placed on Jane's use of fashion & clothing, because it's a pretty reliable, consistent detail about her as queen that repeatedly turns up. It's interesting that CoA and Anne Boleyn's relationship with textiles and clothing is recognised as a part of their historical record, whilst it seems to be diminished and dismissed with regards to Jane.

firstly, Jane's own work as an embroiderer - and Marillac's report in 1539, following her death, that Henry enjoyed embroidery: “the King, in some former years has been solitary and pensive, now gives himself up to amusement. [...] He evidently delights now in painting and embroidery, (having sent men to France, Flanders, Italy, and elsewhere for masters of this art)”. One wonders if this was a shared hobby, or something she got him into? Or, instead, was it something he picked up following her death? I just have to wonder why this inherently feminine skill seems to be completely ignored with regards to identifying Jane's abilities! /s

but more specifically, Jane's clothing seems to be a distinctive point in the records of her life and reign. Henry VIII’s seventeenth century biographer, Edward Herbert, claimed that Sir John Russell, who had observed Jane believed that “the richer Queen Jane was in clothes, the fairer she appeared, but that the other [Anne], the richer she was apparelled, the worse she looked”, which is not a contemporary description, but does suggest that Jane wearing especially ‘rich’, sumptuous clothing was at least a believable, or familiar, claim - that Jane, perhaps, had a reputation for expensive clothing, at least enough to warrant a comparison with Anne, who herself had a reputation for being fashionable. This is supported by surviving wardrobe inventories: Jane Seymour’s wardrobe accounts indicate that she spent large amounts on clothing, and she actually had a wider variety, and larger amount, of garments than Catherine of Aragon - no small feat, considering Jane was only queen for 17 months.

Beyond that, one of the few insights we get into Jane's household management and reign is in the regulation of what her ladies were permitted to wear. Famously, she preferred her ladies wear English fashions, and specifically preferred Anne Bassett wear “a bonnet and frontlet of velvet”. The implications of which really are very interesting; that Jane wanted to promote a more conservative court culture (and, definitely, English hoods seem to be considered as more appropriate for queenly office, as Anne Boleyn likewise seems to have favoured gable hoods for depictions (her medal, the supposed Holbein sketch)). There was a post circulating calling Jane's English hoods a Tudor equivalent of a MAGA hat, which... is a Lot, but certainly it does beget questions of a sense of identity. Not nationalistic, necessarily, because I think that would be anachronistic, but certainly it was a deliberate fashion choice. Evidently, however, Jane was not wholly opposed to French fashions; Jane's own inventory contains “one French whode of blac Vellat”, and she gifted billiments for one to her stepdaughter Elizabeth. I believe I also read somewhere that Jane's gown in her portrait includes a neck and waistline lower than convention. So it is logical to infer that Jane was not against more stylish, and flattering, silhouettes and styles - and that fashion was, for her, a very specific tool for constructing an image of conservative queenship, to challenge the “pride, envy, indignation and mocking, scorning and derision” Jane recognised the court to be full of.

And that use of fashion as a political tool once again brings us to that strange portrait of Jane in Continental fashions - and the question as to what the intention for it was? Because the idea of Jane borrowing foreign styles, introducing them to England, in an attempt to curry favour and legitimacy overseas is a fascinating one, but it's pure speculation at this point. I really hope more information comes out about that at some point, because until that moment we are unfortunately at a bit of a stalemate. At the very least, we do have evidence that Jane was invested in promoting new fashions. “The idea of using dolls [refered to as ‘babies’] dressed in new styles to promote new styles originated in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries”, and at least three existed in Jane's wardrobe: “oone great babie lyeng in a boxe of wodde having a Gowne of white cloth of Silver / and a kyrtle of grene vellat / the Gowne tyed with smale Aglettes of golde with a smale peir of beades of golde and a smale Cheyne and color abowte the necke of golde” , and “two litle babies in a boxe of wodde / oone of them having a Gowne of crymsen Satten / and thother a Gowne of white vellat”. Maria Hayward has further identified similarities between the clothing worn by these fashion dolls, and items in Jane's personal wardrobe: “while precise details of the clothes worn by the dolls are not given, there were parallels between the dress of the first doll and Jane Seymour’s gowns, in particular the aglets on the sleeves”. Certainly, sleeves, trims, and aglets make up the bulk of Jane's wardrobe, with forty-nine pairs of sleeves decorate with pairs of golden aglets per sleeve - an appropriate garment for an enthusiastic and skilled embroiderer, as “sleeves provided an excellent means of display”, and provided Jane an opportunity to show off her embroidery skills and her wealth and status. She certainly did so with her choice of fabric and colours.

French fashions weren’t banned, and there’s really nothing to suggest Jane had any issue with French fashions, tbh? She wore them herself (her wardrobe lists at least three French hoods: “Jane Seymour’s wardrobe included ‘oone French whode of blac Vellat’ as well as ‘oone billiament of blac vellat garnisshed with goldsmithes worke’ and one of white satin”), she gifted them to others (ordering “⅜ of a yard (0.33 m) of white satin for the biliment for a ‘Scottisshe [French] hoode’ for the lady Elizabeth costing 12d and 1 yard (0.91 m) of right crimson velvet for a Scottish hood and a pair of sleeves for Elizabeth costing 23s 4d”), and a letter from September 1537 indicates court ladies could and did still popular wear French fashions (“the ladies here in the habiliments follow the mode of France”).

She seems to have favoured more conservative fashions for her household, and in her own iconography, but that’s not unique to Jane. Anne Boleyn similarly seems to have preferred to be depicted wearing English hoods (seen here). And a consorts household conveying an image of conservative respectability in the wake of Jane’s predecessor being executed for adultery is not quite the same thing as Jane outright banning French fashions. and even in this capacity, she was accommodating to a limit to her ladies wearing French fashions until they could afford to replace their wardrobes, showing compromise (“the Queen’s pleasure is Mrs. Anne shall wear out her French apparel, but she must have a bonnet and frontlet of velvet”). 

I can’t find any evidence of necklines changing under Jane; nor of ‘chests’ being enforced, so I’m also discounting that claim.

The claims that ‘a somber palette of drab hues’ replaced expensive, brightly coloured fabrics also seems untrue. Jane’s own wardrobe was very brightly coloured, with a wide range of fabric options:

and compared to Catherine of Aragon’s wardrobe, “Jane’s clothes were made from a larger range of colours but a similar range of fabrics”. A queen’s wardrobe, of course, does not represent the average court lady’s wardrobe, but it does indicate Jane was clearly open to various colours and fabrics, and clearly her fashion tastes could not be described as ‘somber’ or ‘drab’ with such a wide range taken into consideration. It’s actually very strange that the colour black is emphasized as dominant over other colours; Jane has 5 gowns, 1 outer gown and kirtle each, and 8 sleeves (meaning 4 pairs) in black — but black was a luxurious, wealthy colour, so that’s not actually a fair conclusion to draw. And further, that the author specifies a lack of ‘crimson, gold, and purple’ is odd, too, when Jane accumulatively has more clothes in these colours combined than she does items in black. If we include all counts of gold and cloth of gold, clothing pieces in ‘crimson, gold, and purple’ come to 85 in total (compared to a total of 15 black items). And it’s especially wild to me that they should suggest that Jane championed a ‘drab’ colour palette at court, specifically because she rejected the colour crimson, when (as mentioned above) she orders crimson fabric for Elizabeth, and she wears a red/crimson gown in her official portrait by Holbein.

Queen Claude of France, the eldest daughter of King Louis XII of France and Anne of Brittany and the first wife the flamboyant King François 1 of France, died on 20th July 1524 after a brief illness, at the young age of just twenty-four. 

Claude died at Blois and was temporarily laid to rest in the chapel there, but later her body was moved to the Basilica of Saint Denis just outside Paris in 1527. She was named in honour of her grandmother, Louise de Savoie.

Although she was Louis XII’s eldest surviving daughter, Salic law prevented Claude from becoming the Queen of France in her own right. When her father died in January 1515, her cousin and husband, François, Duke of Angoulême, ascended the throne, so Claude became his queen consort. Mary Tudor, the Dowager Queen of France and the third wife of Louis XII, was supposed to return to England after her marriage to Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk.

Antonio de Beatis, secretary to the Cardinal of Aragon, said about Queen Claude’s physical appearance: “The Queen is young and though very small in stature, plain and badly lame in both hips, is said to be very cultivated, generous and pious.

The Austrian ambassador said about Queen Claude’s appearance that ”she was a retiring young girl with a pale complexion, thin, a little sickly, slightly hunchbacked, and rather unattractive.“

During her ten-year marriage with François, Claude was almost always pregnant or recovering from birth and/or miscarriages if she had any; being very pious by nature, she was also drawn to spiritual matters. 

Claude withdrew from the glamorous and extravagant French court and spent most of the time in retirement at Amboise and Blois.

Queen Claude was a great patroness of the art of the miniature. It is known that she commissioned two exquisite works – The Prayer Book of Claude of France in 1511 and the Book of Hours in 1517. In the Prayer Book, Claude’s coat of arms appears on three different folios. This book is richly illustrated: the borders of each leaf are painted, front and back, with 132 scenes from the lives of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and numerous saints. The Morgan Library and Museum has the entire Book on Prayers on virtual display. You can find the picture of Claude’s Prayer Book below.

When the news about Claude’s death reached King François, who was a prisoner of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V at that time, he was depressed. 

Unlike King Henry VIII who didn’t care about his wives in the second half of his life and could easily get rid of any of them if it suited his interests and satisfied wishes, the King of France genuinely mourned the loss of his queen. He claimed: “If I could bring her back with my life, I would gladly do so.” Although François was of an inveterate womanizer, he respected his wife for her humility and tolerance of his infidelities.

Anne Boleyn served Queen Claude as her lady-in-waiting for about seven years. Even though Anne was one of Mary Tudor’s attendants, she stayed in France, serving the new Queen of France – Queen Claude of France. We just don’t know for sure how and why Anne stayed in France, but it’s possible, as Eric Ives states, that the young Claude took a liking to Anne and offered her a place in her household. It is possible that Anne acted as an interpreter between Claude and Mary Tudor.

There are some people who slander the name of Anne Boleyn and consider her a whore who was influenced by the dissipation and frivolities which blossomed at the French court. But it cannot be true because Anne Boleyn served no other Queen of France but Queen Claude, who was known for her extreme piety, strict moral code, and appreciation of modesty in her ladies, and who spent much time away from the royal court due to her frequent pregnancies. If Anne had led a notorious and shameful life in France, she could have been dismissed from Queen Claude’s household. I personally think that Anne returned from France to England a virgin.

We don’t have many contemporary records about the years of Anne Boleyn’s life in France, but we can make certain assumptions. It is likely that Anne could have probably taken part in the coronation of Queen Claude at the Basilica of Saint Denis in May 1516 and her triumphant entry into Paris, and also her entry into Cognac in 1520.

We know that Claude was also present at the banquet given in honour of the visit of the English diplomats sent to negotiate a marriage between the Dauphin of France and Henry VIII’s daughter, Mary Tudor, at the Bastille on December 22 1518, and also at the Field of Cloth of Gold in June 1520, just outside Calais. As the French queen was accompanied by her ladies at both events, it is likely that Anne could have been useful as an interpreter.

Eric Ives writes that Queen Claude and her ladies appeared with pomp at the joust at the Field of Cloth of Gold: “She [Claude] wore cloth of silver over an underskirt of cloth of gold and rode in her coronation litter of cloth of silver decorated with friars’ knots in gold, a device which she had taken from her mother. Her ladies rode in three carriages similarly draped in silver and, no doubt, were dressed to match the queen.”

According to Eric Ives, Queen Claude and her ladies also appeared on the magnificent feast attended by the two monarchs and by English and French ladies. If Anne really was at the Field of Cloth of Gold, she could have seen her future husband Henry VIII there. Of course, Anne had no idea that Henry would become her husband and the man who would eventually kill her.

The tribute to Queen Claude lives on in the "Reine Claude” plum, which is a richly flavored cultivar of the fruit introduced into France from Italy during François I’s reign and named after his queen. They are also known as “la bonne reine,” which means in English “the good queen” plums, in honor of Claude’s gentle disposition.

Sources

www.theanneboleynfiles.com, Anne Boleyn files

    No, Anne Boleyn did not seek to be Henry’s queen, not at the beginning, anyway.

    The first year of Henry and Anne’s relationship can be better described as sexual harassment in the workplace than a romance. Anne spent most of 1526 trying to tactfully dodge Henry’s advances. She had told him she would be no man’s mistress, but he didn’t respect that.  

    In February, he made a public declaration of his interest in Anne, hoping the fawning attention of the court would pressure her into giving into his advances. it didn’t work. Anne still would not become his mistress. Henry now spent more time in his wife’s quarters than he had in years, but it was to visit Anne where she couldn’t escape his attentions.

    In May, it got so bad that Anne actually quit her job as a lady in waiting and retreated to Hever, where she refused to answer Henry’s letters and sent back his gifts. Henry’s letters to her at this point are full of pouting complaints that she won’t write back to him.

    Henry still wouldn’t take “no” for an answer and chased after her. He went to stay with a cousin of Anne, Nicholas Carew, whose house was a convenient distance from Hever so he could ride over at his leisure. It wasn’t like Anne could refuse to receive him at the house. She refused wherever she had agency, but in this she did not. No one could refuse the king admittance.

    Anne had to walk a delicate balance. If she had offended the king, it would have put her entire family’s future in danger. She undoubtedly faced pressure from her family and friends - who were benefiting from the king’s attentions to Anne with a stream of offices, appointments, and titles - to keep the king “happy” and not anger him. And so Anne had to remain polite and friendly, smiling while she tried to duck away from his reaching hands.

    Anne wanted what every girl of the era wanted, to make a good marriage. She was intensely religious, something that’s often forgotten in her on-screen portrayals, an evangelical with a reformist zeal. No matter what the king offered her, she would not sleep with any man unless he was her lawfully-wed husband. But she couldn’t find a husband while the king was pursuing her. No man would ask for her hand and risk enraging the king. And the longer the king chased her, the less people believed Anne could still be a virgin. Her reputation was just as ruined as though she’d been the king’s mistress in truth.

    Later writers, seeing how things turned out, have posited that Anne planned the whole thing from the start, “luring” Henry away from his wife with her sexy feminine witchery. They imbue her with supernatural foresight, as if she somehow knew if she ignored him, refused him, and left court, it would drive him mad with lust and he would leave his wife for her. But that’s ridiculous.  Anne could not have possibly hoped Henry would make her his queen when he was chasing her back in 1526.

    In the past, Henry had always gracefully backed away when a lady indicated she wasn’t interested in being perused by him. Henry had a very fragile ego and was pained by being refused. His way was to sniff around and drop hints, and if the lady was cool toward his overtures, he would step back quickly and pretend the whole thing never happened. “Interested in her? Huh! Me? No way. Maybe she was interested in me, but I wasn’t into her!” 

    In Anne’s case, he wasn’t taking the hint. Anne was as blunt as she could be without being outright rude, but he kept coming back, offering her larger gifts, and promoting her family members to higher offices with greater income. Her family must have despaired when Anne left court because it put her prestigious career as a maid of honor in danger, but even that drastic move wasn’t enough to push Henry off his course.

    Thomas Wyatt, who watched the whole thing and may have been in love with Anne himself, wrote a poem about it, Whoso List to Hunt. He portrayed Anne as a deer, fleeing for her very life, with Henry and others in pursuit. But Henry has already put a collar around the deer’s neck, proclaiming the prize as his own, whether she likes it or not. And though Anne seems “tame,” she has a wild longing to be free. But later writers have portrayed it as though it was the deer luring Henry into the hunt.

    While everyone knew by 1526 that Henry wanted to divorce Katharine (he’d stopped sleeping with her years ago and had told several people he thought his marriage to her was invalid), everyone fully expected his next wife would be a princess of the blood, someone who would bring him a huge dowry and an alliance with a foreign power. A king marrying a mere gentlewoman for love? The idea was ridiculous. All the time he was trying to arrange Henry’s annulment, Wolsey was planning the king would marry a French princess. Even he, who probably knew the king better than anyone, didn’t think Henry would really marry Anne.

    In 1527, Henry asked Anne to marry him. Two things are important to note here. First of all, a royal proposal was not a request. A woman did not turn down a proposal of marriage from a king. She just couldn’t. (Ask Kateryn Parr, who was in love with another man when the king proposed.) It’s not like today, when a woman has agency in deciding her marital future. In those days, if a man of appropriate rank and wealth approached for a marriage, the girl’s father would decide if the union was good enough and if it was, the girl was expected to accept. If his rank was much higher than her own, or her father’s, the girl and her father had no little choice in the matter. They could appeal to higher authorities, such as the king or cardinal, and they might put a stop to the match, but the girl’s opinion on the matter was inconsequential. In this case, there was no higher authority to whom Anne could appeal if she didn’t want to marry Henry.

     Secondly, once Anne had accepted, they were legally bound to one another. A betrothal was almost as legally binding as a marriage itself, requiring a dispensation from the pope to dissolve. Once she had accepted, Anne had to put her effort into furthering her marriage. If the king had changed his mind at this point, Anne would have been ruined. Few men would have been willing to take the king’s discarded “mistress,” and even with a papal dispensation freeing her from the engagement, her marital prospects would have been dim.

    In short, there is no evidence whatsoever that Anne had a grand, cunning scheme to make herself queen. It would have been a ridiculous plan, and incredibly reckless. “I’m going to risk inciting the queen’s hatred, the king’s anger (potentially ruining our family), and destroying my reputation around Europe on the off chance that this time Henry won’t back away when I refuse him. Because I’m just so awesome, he won’t be able to quit me, you know.”