CHAPTER IV

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.

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.”