Every body knows the delightful romance of Kenilworth,--a tragedy, of
which the dramatis personae are the parties themselves, called up from
their graves by the novelist magician. Students who attend St. Mary's
Church, Oxford, still look out for the flat stone which covers the dust
and bones of poor Amy, and could any sculptured effigies supply the place
of the whole historical picture, then imagined in the mind's eye? More
than once attracted by the old ballad,[1] we have, when undergraduates,
walked to the "lonely towers of Cumnor Hall," fancied that we saw her
struggle, and heard her screams, when she was thrown over the staircase
(the traditional mode of her assassination,) and wondered how any man
could have the heart to murder a simple lovesick pretty girl. Even now,
in sorrow and in sadness, we read this account:--
The unfortunate Amye Duddley (for so she subscribes herself in the
Harleian Manuscript, 4712,) the first wife of Lord Robert Dudley, Queen
Elizabeth's favourite, and after Amy's death Earl of Leicester, was
daughter of Sir John Robsart. Her marriage took place June 4, 1550, the
day following that on which her lord's eldest brother had been united to a
daughter of the Duke of Somerset, and the event is thus recorded by King
Edward in his Diary: "4. S. Robert dudeley, third sonne to th' erle of
warwic, married S. John Robsartes daughter; after wich mariage ther were
certain gentlemen that did strive who shuld first take away a gose's heade
wich was hanged alive on tow crose postes." Soon after the accession of
Elizabeth, when Dudley's ambitious views of a royal alliance had opened
upon him, his countess mysteriously died at the retired mansion of Cumnor
near Abingdon,[2] Sept. 8, 1560; and, although the mode of her death is
imperfectly ascertained (her body was thrown down stairs, as a blind,)
there appears far greater foundation for supposing the earl guilty of her
murder, than usually belongs to such rumours, all her other attendants
being absent at Abingdon fair, except Sir Richard Verney and his man. The
circumstances, distorted by gross anachronisms, have been weaved into the
delightful romance of "Kenilworth."
Of the goose and posts, _we_ can suggest no better explanation than that
the goose was intended for poor Amy, and the cross posts for the Protector
Somerset, and his rival Dudley Duke of Northumberland, both of whom were
bred to the devil's trade, ambition. Others may be possessed of more
successful elucidation. At all events, it is plain that the people had a
very suspicious opinion of Leicester, amounting to this, that he was a
great rascal, who played a deep game, and stuck at nothing which he could
do without danger to himself.[3]--_Gentleman's Magazine_.
[ 1] We believe, in Evans's collection.
[ 2] It is only three miles from Oxford, and six or seven from
Abingdon.
[ 3] His general mode of murder was by poison; and it is said, that
he so perished himself.
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