QUEEN ELIZABETH AND HER SUCCESSION
IN the year 1560, Elizabeth’s position became very precarious; her
popularity was rapidly diminishing, owing to the evil reports spread
abroad by her enemies, with respect to the nature of her intimacy with
the Lord Robert Dudley. The Spanish ambassador wrote to King Philip,
early in the year, that he was amazed by “the new queen’s flightiness,”
and remarks that “there is no understanding this woman. She will surely
come to trouble of her own making.” Elizabeth was at her wits’ end to
know exactly what to do.
Her equanimity was greatly disturbed by the question of the succession,
and she was advised on all hands to marry, and by having an heir of her
own, so to speak, succeed herself. It was freely bruited about—and the
foreign envoys frequently allude to the slander—that she was already a
mother, and many strange stories were current concerning a daughter she
had had by Dudley, which was being brought up secretly.
Others said that the queen could never know maternity, although she
herself, like her sister Mary, seems to have believed that sooner or
later she would have offspring to succeed her, and it was stated that
this was the reason she steadfastly refused, to the end, to nominate
an heir. When, in 1563, a deputation from the lords waited upon her,
to urge her to come to some definite decision in the matter, Elizabeth
rounded on them fiercely, crying out that the marks on her face were
not wrinkles, but the pits of small-pox, and that “although she might
be old, God could send her children as He did to Saint Elizabeth.”
She warned them to consider well what they did in this affair of the
succession, “as if she declared a successor, it would cost much blood
to England.”
Yet for all her desire to have an heir of her own body, Elizabeth was
at heart loath to marry; Philip of Spain had courted her, through his
ambassadors (she was already personally well acquainted with him),
but, remembering how miserable her sister had been as his wife, she
consistently rejected his suit, saying that she “did not think it
was right before God for a woman to marry her brother-in-law.” The
rejected Philip was none the less determined to secure paramount
Spanish influence in England, and wrote to Feria proposing that the
queen should be brought to favour the Archduke Ferdinand of Austria,
his very Catholic brother. Elizabeth had lately thrown over the Earl of
Arundel, with whom she had been flirting, and had repulsed the Italian,
Guido Cavalcanti, Catherine of Medici’s secret agent, in his vicarious
wooing on behalf of a French prince, the Duc d’Alençon. Therefore
there was a fair chance that Elizabeth might at last have yielded to
persuasion and favoured the archduke’s suit. Had Philip played his game
firmly at this juncture, most probably she would have fallen an easy
victim to his intrigues and have married Ferdinand, whereby England
would have lost, for some time at least, her independence. At the
bottom of all the queen’s hesitation and perplexity about her marriage
was less the interests of country than the violence of her headstrong
passion for Robert Dudley, still the husband of that Amy Robsart who
has been immortalized by Sir Walter Scott in _Kenilworth_. On April 18,
1559, Feria wrote to Philip that he had heard dreadful news concerning
the queen’s conduct with Dudley; it was all over the court, that they
slept in contiguous rooms—that she never let him out of her sight.
“Indeed,” the ambassador continues, “I have heard such things of
the queen’s conduct with respect to the Lord Robert that I dare not
repeat them. Meanwhile, a rumour is circulating to the effect that
Robert Dudley’s wife, who is in the country, is sick of a malady of
the breasts and like to die.” On a close examination of the documents
connected with the singular death of Amy Robsart,[65] who by the way
was never Countess of Leicester, her husband not being elevated to that
rank for some considerable time after her demise, we find no mention
whatever of this malady. The rumour was, therefore, merely a feeler
put forward to prepare public opinion for coming events. Elizabeth
had made up her mind that, should the Lady Robert Dudley conveniently
depart this life at an early date, she would marry the widower. All
these and many other open and covert attacks on the queen’s character
were damaging her good name with the people, to such an extent, indeed,
that it was actually proposed to dethrone her and to replace her by
some more suitable successor. The English Catholics naturally favoured
the Queen of Scots, but Katherine Grey was preferred by Spain. King
Philip, as we have said, all his life certainly regretted the loss of
Spanish influence in English politics which came to an end on the death
of Queen Mary, and he determined to regain it at any cost. That Lady
Katherine Grey, on account of her supposed leaning towards Catholicism
and her friendship for the Ferias, was regarded by the Spanish King as
the most likely medium for realizing his hopes, was well known.
As will be seen in the course of this biography, many and curious
were the intrigues, of which Lady Katherine was the centre, for
retrieving Spanish ascendancy in the British Isles; but by far the most
astonishing and fantastic (and the earliest) was a plot—evolved in
1558 or early in 1559—for secretly abducting Katherine to Spain.[66]
There she was to be married to Don Carlos, the king’s son, or to the
Archduke Ferdinand, or some other Spanish prince, and put forward by
Philip as Elizabeth’s immediate successor or even rival, her claims to
the Throne being supported by all the might of Spain, in opposition
to those of Mary Queen of Scots, the candidate favoured by France.
Apparently Philip, misled by his ambassadors, who miscalculated the
extent of Elizabeth’s unpopularity, failed to realize how strong
was the anti-Spanish feeling which existed in England, and did not
perceive the enormous difficulties which would have to be surmounted
before Katherine could be placed on the Throne. Nor does he appear to
have known that she had also, strange to say, been selected by the
Evangelical, or Swiss, faction of the Protestants, as their special
champion. The Spaniards thought Lady Katherine would not be unwilling
to accept the proposal to leave England, since she was said to be
very unhappy at home; Elizabeth, whatever may have been her outward
demonstrations of affection, at heart disliked her, and Katherine
reciprocated this dislike, whilst it was thought that “neither her
mother[67] nor her step-father loved her, and her uncle (Lord John
Grey) could not abide her.” There was probably less grounds for this
latter statement; Katherine was not on bad terms with her mother,
who, as we have seen, had done her best to further the marriage with
Hertford; there is no evidence that she ever quarrelled with Mr.
Stokes; and her uncle, Lord John Grey, is known to have treated her
kindly when, some years later, she became a prisoner in his house,
although there had indeed been coldness between them.
The Countess of Feria was considered the most suitable person to
approach Katherine with reference to her leaving England; but
meanwhile, whether, as subsequent events indicate, Queen Elizabeth knew
of the plot and was determined secretly to frustrate it, or whatever
else the cause, the bellicose Feria’s existence at the English court
was presently rendered so untenable, by reason of the queen’s open
hostility to him and above all, to the countess, that by May 1559 he
could stand it no longer, and, inventing an excuse for relinquishing
his mission, forthwith returned to Flanders; departing from London
in such haste that he left Durham House, Strand, then the Spanish
Embassy, in the hands of his wife, who seems to have had some sort
of charge upon it.[68] Thus, the plot for Katherine’s abduction, of
which, it may be, that princess was entirely ignorant, came to an
abrupt conclusion, and was never, so far as we know, revived during
the embassy of Feria’s successor, although Philip continued, by less
complicated means, to try to get Katherine into his power. Elizabeth,
however, could not be brought to believe, as late as 1566, that the
original scheme had been abandoned. As there is no mention of the
matter in the Simancas Papers, and we only hear of it through the
English ambassador at Madrid, it is probable that the plot fell through
immediately upon the departure of Feria.
Notwithstanding the open enmity of Queen Elizabeth towards her, the
Countess de Feria remained at Durham House some months later than her
husband, packing up her own effects and preparing the house for the new
ambassador, who was a Roman Catholic Bishop—to wit, the Neapolitan,
Don Alvaro de la Quadra, created Bishop of Venosa in 1542, and two
years later translated to the bishopric of Aquila in the Kingdom of
Naples, which see he resigned on his appointment to the court of
England. He was a shrewd, clever man, and so broad-minded that he
actually wrote, during the debate upon the Act for Conformity in
Faith and Doctrine, the following remarks—which might be endorsed by
a Liberal in our time: “It was,” he thought, “natural that the Queen
should wish to see uniformity of belief throughout her Kingdom; but,”
he adds, “I see that she no longer wishes to style herself Head of
the Church, but simply Governor. It is, however, unjust, but still
possible, to force a man to act as you will, but that he should be
obliged to _see_ things in the same light as his King is simply absurd.
Yet they are so ignorant here they pass such a thing as this, for
religion in this country is simply, believe me, a matter of policy.”
Indeed, religion in the sixteenth century was not only in England, but
elsewhere, “merely a matter of policy,” a fact which may explain why
Lady Katherine Grey, who was a good Catholic under Mary, had become an
equally good Protestant under Elizabeth. After the arrival of Quadra
and the departure of the count, and finally, of the Countess of Feria,
it is not probable that Katherine ever came again into immediate
contact with the Spanish Embassy, although Quadra kept a close watch
upon her movements and was well informed as to what was happening with
respect to her connection with the succession. Quadra evidently thought
that the people might yet favour Lady Katherine over Elizabeth, who in
the first year of his embassy he believed to be more unpopular than she
really was. He seemed disgusted at the queen’s levity and indecision:
“It is ruining her popularity,” he says; “she is in danger of losing
her Crown.” One day she tells him she will never marry any one, and
the next she asks him if he thinks there would be much opposition if
she married one of her servants [meaning Dudley], as the duchesses of
Somerset and Suffolk had done. Knowing well what she meant by this, and
remembering that Dudley’s wife was living, he made no direct answer—he
could not give her any advice; but it was evident that the only man
she would ever marry was Robert Dudley. Until he was free, she would
remain free. Presently a fresh rumour was started concerning Dudley’s
neglected wife, Amy Robsart, now residing, separated from her husband,
at Cumnor Hall, near Oxford, a fair old mansion, still in existence,
which in those days was rented from the heirs of George Owen, physician
to Henry VIII, by a certain Mr. Anthony Forster. In November 1559,
Quadra wrote to the king that there is “a rumour in London to the
effect that Robert Dudley thinks of poisoning his wife.” So at least he
has been told by “a person who is in the habit of giving him veracious
news.” “Certainly,” he adds, “all the queen has done with us, and will
do with the rest in the matter of her marriage, is only keeping the
Lord Robert’s enemies and the country engaged with words, until this
wicked deed of killing his wife is consummated.” The matter had become
so serious that Lady Sidney, Dudley’s sister Mary, who had been in the
habit of visiting Quadra, “thought it best to abstain from doing so.”
Sinister rumours were, therefore, circulating as early as November
1559, concerning the relations between the queen and Robert Dudley, and
his intention of getting rid of his wife, by foul means, if necessary.
[Illustration:
[_To face p. 156_
ROBERT DUDLEY, EARL OF LEICESTER
(_From National Portrait Gallery_)]
On Sunday, the 8th September of the following year (1560), Lady Dudley
(Amy Robsart) fell down a back staircase at Cumnor Hall, and was found
dead at the bottom. The following day, a messenger was sent to Dudley,
who was in attendance on the queen at Windsor, informing him that his
wife had been killed by falling downstairs, whilst all the servants
were absent from the house at Abingdon Fair. Dudley, who manifested
neither surprise nor much concern, stated that he did not believe
his wife’s death had been the result of accident, but was an act of
premeditated violence, and added that he feared he would be implicated
in the matter. He immediately sent the news of the Lady Dudley’s death
to her relations, and invited them to be present at the coroner’s
inquest, which was held at Cumnor a few days later. Early in September,
Quadra, in a letter to the Duchess of Parma, informed her that it was
rumoured in London that the Lord Robert was “thinking of killing his
wife, although she was quite well (and would take good care they did
not poison her).” “The next day,” which would be about the 9th of
September, the queen returning from hunting, meeting him, said that my
Lord Robert’s wife was dead, or nearly so, and asked him not to say
anything about it. “Certainly,” he continues, “this business is most
shameful and scandalous.” Cecil also, earlier in the year, had told him
that he thought and believed that Robert Dudley was planning the murder
of his wife. Elizabeth must have been informed of the unfortunate Amy’s
death almost as soon as Dudley himself, for in the same letter, dated
September 11, Quadra adds a postscript: “Since writing the above the
queen has published the news of the death of Robert’s wife, and has
said to me, in Italian, ‘She broke her neck. She must have fallen
downstairs.’”
It is difficult, after reading the above extracts from the Spanish
Papers, not to feel fairly certain that, notwithstanding Robert
Dudley’s persistent declarations of innocence, he was guilty; and that
Amy Robsart was foully murdered by his orders, and with Elizabeth’s
knowledge and consent. If this be the case, the “Wizard of the North,”
Sir Walter Scott, was, in the main, right, and his explanation of
the mystery of Cumnor Hall fairly correct. It was generally believed
in London that Dudley had pre-arranged the murder of his wife, with
the intention of marrying the queen as soon as possible.[69] Cecil
evidently believed this version of the story, and, greatly disgusted
thereat, turned his attention in the direction of Lady Katherine. The
supporters of the Earl of Huntingdon, the representative of the house
of Pole, availing themselves of the queen’s unpopularity, now began
agitating in his favour, and Quadra informed the King of Spain that
he had just heard that “they are forming an important plan for the
maintenance of their heresies, namely, to make the Earl of Huntingdon
king, in case the queen should die without issue.” He added that
Cecil had told him that the succession belonged of right to the earl,
because he was descended from the House of York. Huntingdon, however,
was not really a very formidable claimant, for although married, he
had no children. Quadra’s letter is dated the 15th of October, and
contains, moreover, the following curious reference to Lady Katherine:
“They fear here that if the Queen were to die, Your Majesty [the King
of Spain] would get the Kingdom into your family by means of the Lady
Katherine. Cecil has sounded me on the subject, saying it would be well
if a marriage should take place between her and one of Your Majesty’s
relations ... [_Here there is a piece torn out of the letter_].... She
[Lady Katherine] should succeed by virtue of the will of King Henry. He
[Quadra] asked Cecil if he thought the Queen would declare her [Lady
Katherine] heiress to the Crown; whereupon Cecil answered, ‘Certainly
not, because as the saying is, the English run after the heir to the
Crown more than after the present wearer of it.’” In all probability,
the relative alluded to was the Archduke Ferdinand; or may be, the
Infante Don Carlos, whose health, however, was very precarious, so
that he, on the other hand, may have been at this time already out
of the running. Certainly the Archduke was considered by Quadra as a
suitable candidate for Lady Katherine’s hand, and it was hoped that
if such a marriage could be arranged, Lady Katherine might eventually
ascend the Throne, with Ferdinand as her consort, and England would
thus be brought again under Spanish influence, if not actually annexed
to that country. With such high interests at stake, therefore, Quadra
had already been for some time extremely anxious to marry the Archduke
either to Elizabeth or, failing her, to Lady Katherine; and hence he
wrote to the Spanish king, in November 1559, in the following terms:
“This hatred of the Lord Robert will continue, as the Duke [of Norfolk]
and the rest of them cannot put up with his being King. I am of opinion
that if the Archduke [Ferdinand] comes and makes the acquaintance
and obtains the goodwill of these people, even if this marriage—of
which I have now no hope except by force—should fall through, and any
disaster were to befall the Queen, such as may be feared from her bad
government, the Archduke might be summoned to marry Lady Katherine, to
whom the Kingdom falls if this woman dies. If the Archduke sees her
[Katherine] he should so bear himself that she should understand this
design, which in my opinion may be beneficial and even necessary.”
Unfortunately for this scheme, the Archduke never saw Lady Katherine,
and the proposed match fell through. Elizabeth found out this intrigue,
and resented it, and it was one of the many reasons for her hatred
of Katherine, who, however, was probably totally unaware of the
numerous plots which were rife concerning her position as Elizabeth’s
heiress; but Hertford, never very courageous, was growing alarmed. He
knew that the queen, who at one time had called Lady Katherine her
“daughter,” now expressed her contempt for her, and also kept her as
far removed from her person as possible, “frowning upon her whenever
they passed each other.” He therefore despaired of ever obtaining
Elizabeth’s consent to their marriage; and was, moreover, reminded by
Cecil (who one day questioned him very sharply about the matter of
his courtship) of the existence of a law passed by Henry VIII’s Privy
Council and ratified by Parliament, at the time the Lady Margaret
Douglas, the king’s niece, married her first husband, Lord Thomas
Howard, without the royal consent, to wit, inflicting the severest
punishment—imprisonment for life and a fine so enormous as to absorb an
earl’s income—upon any man who should marry a kinswoman of the crown
without the king’s leave. The details of this interview, between the
earl and “Mr. Sekrettory,” came out during the subsequent examination
of Hertford touching the marriage. Cecil, who was probably actuated
much more by political motives than by any personal desire to save
Hertford from the fate which awaited him if he married Lady Katherine,
came upon the young man one day, and asked him point-blank, whether
there was not “good-will” between him and the lady in question. “There
is no such thing,” was Hertford’s prompt but untruthful reply. When on
his trial, the earl, tormented by scruples, stated publicly that “he
desired it to be noted that there _was no_ truth in his reply to Mr.
Secretary Cecil.” A little later on—but, it seems, after the marriage
had actually taken place—Cecil tried to find out from Katherine herself
how matters stood. Always haunted by the idea that one day she might
succeed Elizabeth as queen, he was anxious to try to prevent a marriage
which, he wisely foresaw, would but injure her cause yet further in
the queen’s eyes. Cecil, a cunning diplomat, commenced by questioning
Katherine over some extraneous matter concerning her property, but
eventually insinuated a few words, warning her “of her too great
familiarity with the Earl of Hertford”; and considerately added, that
he “would not make the Queen’s Majesty privy thereto.” Katherine, later
on, said that the warning, if it had been given before the marriage,
might have been heeded. What reply she made at the time is not on
record. Prompted by Cecil, the Marquis of Northampton and the “Fair
Geraldine” also approached the princess on the subject, advising her
“to beware of the company and familiarity of the said earl,” of whom,
one fancies, none of these worthy interferes had a very high opinion.
Their advice, however, if indeed it did not really come too late, was
disregarded.
Love, like Justice, is reputed blind; and between All Hallows and
Christmas, 1560, a year after the death of the Lady Frances, Hertford
solemnly pledged his troth to Katherine and presented her with a
plain gold ring, which opened with a secret spring in several linked
compartments, on each of which he had engraved different Latin distichs
of his own composition. They ran as follows:—
As circles five, by art compressed, show but one ring to sight,
So trust uniteth faithful minds, with knot of secret might,
Whose force to break (but greedy Death) no wight possesseth power,
As time and sequels well shall prove. My ring can say no more.
And so, in the presence of Lady Jane Seymour only, and in that lady’s
chamber in Westminster Palace, the two lovers were formally betrothed,
with, however, “no ceremonies,” as he afterwards admitted, beyond
kissing and embracing each other and joining their hands together,
before his sister, the Lady Jane Seymour. A little later in December,
whilst the Lady Jane Seymour was in her private sitting-room, a
large apartment which no one was allowed to enter without her leave,
she received “a letter” from her brother, saying he was very ill,
“love-sick,” and must see the Lady Katherine at once: would she receive
him in her chamber, as he wished to open his heart to her? Whereupon
the Lady Jane sent one of the little maids to him, saying that he was
to follow her. Half-an-hour later, the two lovers were reunited by
Lady Jane’s fireside. Poor Lady Katherine, apparently ignorant of the
probable results of her foolish act, after embracing her lover many
times, said: “Weighing your long suit and great good-will towards me,
I am well content, be the consequences what they may, to marry you the
next time the Queen’s Highness shall go abroad and leave the Lady Jane
alone with me.”