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These were the bright days of Kenilworth, | His spirit was suited to the place. The but a cloud soon impended over its battle- great, the strong, the beautiful, was his ments, for owing to the treason of Thomas, sphere: the great, for his lordly ambition; earl of Lancaster, in the reign of Richard the strong, for security in his crimes; the II., it reverted a second time to the crown; beautiful, as applying to his exquisite taste and that unfortunate monarch contemplat- and unbounded munificence. An insatiaed making Kenilworth his place of retire- ble curiosity is excited by the character of ment, and trusted there to be in safety. this mysterious, bad man, of whom it was He was, however, carried off to Berkeley said, with much wit, "that his depth was Castle, and there, according to the received not fathomable in those days, nor his policy accounts, barbarously murdered. in these." No, with all the lights of history broadly shining on his carreer, Dudley is still a great historical enigma.

In the reign of Edward III., the Lancaster family were restored in blood, and again owned, among their other possessions, His surname was derived from the Casthis castle. Blanch, the co-heiress with tle of Dudley, one of the oldest fortresses her sister Maud of the last Earl of Lancas- of this island, and was assumed, according ter, became the wife of John of Gaunt, to the ancient custom of England, by the and upon her father's property being divid- younger children of the barons of that ed this portion of it fell to her share; and place. Proud and commanding as was henceforth Kenilworth owned for its mas- once that castle, so was the intellect of the ter no less a person than John of Gaunt. race who derived their name from its That worthy Plantagenet had a soul. towers; ancient as the days of Dudo the Hitherto strength, not domestic conve- Saxon, who gave his name to it in the year nience, had been the aim of the feudal 700. From this race sprang Edmund Dudowners of the castle; he now resolved to ley, the lawyer, the statesman, and the tool render it a suitable abode for the brother of of Henry VII. He was crafty, able, and Edward III. At this era, indeed, a degree unscrupulous, like his celebrated descenof convenience and splendor in such edi- dant, but less fortunate. Scarcely had fices superseded the rude arrangements of Henry VII. expired than his instrument, our ancestors. So there arose, towards the with his accomplice, Empson, was commitlatter reign of Richard II., those light ted to the Tower, thence never more to and beautiful buildings, comprising the now emerge, since both of these execrable men ruined hall, the buttery, the kitchen, the perished on the scaffold. His talents, his chapel, many sleeping apartments in tur- ambition, but not his misfortunes, descendrets, and sundry cellars and dungeons, ed to his son, John Dudley, Duke of Normost delicate in their architectural beauty! thumberland, the most powerful subject and as the structure progressed, John of that this kingdom ever beheld. He resemGaunt put it under the charge of John d' bled his father, however, in more respects Eyncourt, the ancestor of the time-honored than one. After sitting as one of the family of that name. judges upon his great enemy, the Duke of Somerset, and rising to the highest possible acmé of power and influence, he thought it not unseemly to oppress his poor cousin, John, baron of Dudley, whose estates being entangled by usurers, were got, by successive mortgages, into the duke's hands; so that he at last compassed what he had for many years sighed for, the possession of Dudley Castle. This he repaired in a manner worthy of his greatness, adorning it with the arms of his own branch of the family, the quarterings of his mother and her high-born relatives, so that the renovated structure might henceforth appear to belong to his family alone; and the poor rightful baron meantime went by the name of the "Quondam Lord," until, by a turn of fate, the Duke of Northumberland was

But it was doomed that Kenilworth was never long to remain in the possession of a subject. To John of Gaunt succeeded his son, Henry Bolingbroke, afterwards Henry IV., and this castle, a part of his possessions, was again attached to the crown, and attached it remained until the days of Queen Elizabeth. Here, Henry V. built a tower so close upon the pool as to acquire the name of le Plesans en Marys. It was removed by Henry VIII., who pulled it down, and rebuilt it in the base-court of the castle, near what is still called the Swan Tower.

The annals of Kenilworth are mute until it became, by the gift of Elizabeth, the stately possession of Robert Dudley, earl of

Leicester.

attainted, and the Castle of Dudo restored | dawn of his influence, a perfect and most

to the injured man, the ancestor, be it observed, of the Lords Dudley and Ward. From this oppressive, haughty, unscrupulous stock, sprang Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Who that looks into history, can help subscribing to Dr. Arnold's belief in hereditary tendencies? Yet there is one contradiction to this theory in Ambrose, the good Earl of Warwick, brother of the Earl of Leicester. Where he reposes, in the chapel dedicated to Our Ladye at Warwick, his effigies, in armor, with his mantle of an earl lying thereon, his head resting on a mattrass cut in marble, his hands conjoined as in prayer; at his feet a bear, all muzzled, painted to the life, is an inscription placed there by the pious care of his widowed countess, recounting his virtues. It is long; but one short memorial, enough for any man, was inscribed on the heart of his contemporaries. He was called "the good Earl of Warwick." Many are the traits related of his noble, beneficent spirit. They are scarcely remembered, whilst the dark vices and brilliant career of his brother are known to every English reader.

Little, however, has transpired of Robert Dudley's boyish days, nothing even of the date of his birth; and the first signal event of his life was his marriage to Amy Robsart, no ideal personage, but the actual daughter of a sturdy knight, Sir John Robsart; and, moreover, that union was contracted at the express wish of the Duke of Northumberland, and was celebrated at Shene, the king, Edward VI., honoring the nuptials by his grave, but youthful presence. Amy, so bewitchingly pictured by Sir Walter Scott, was a considerable heiress, descended from a Norfolk family; and, as it was one of the duke's plans to marry his sons early, by way of forming a strong family compact in those factious days, we may presume that Amy's family were not to be despised. Noble blood ran in her veins, and two of her ancestors had been Knights of the Gar

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elegant courtier, prone to gallantry, and of an imagination easily kindled to love; his temper was complaisant, and he was deadly insidious to those whom he designed to ruin. For the rest, he was lavish to every one who served him—a quality which enhanced his power; and he knew well how to choose his time, how to carry his point, and well did he succeed in some respects, for this world was everything to him, and he stopped at no scruples of honor or humanity.

One word more about Amy Robsart. At the time of his first marriage, Dudley was still only a knight, though, after his restoration in blood, he went by the name of Lord Robert Dudley, a title which he bore when the first gleam of light-the possibility of his obtaining the hand of his sovereign in marriage-broke upon him. He was not at that time the owner of Kenilworth, which Elizabeth did not.bestow upon him until 1562. Alas, poor Amy!—or, as some vexatious historians will have it, poor Annie-she died two years previously; and the world was filled, to use an expression of the day, with "the lamentable tragedy of her death.”

The story to which Camden, in his Annals of Queen Elizabeth, refers, stating that the lady fell from a high place, has been but little embellished in its tragical particulars by the author of Kenilworth; but when he makes his heroine repair to that castle and witness there the festivities which she was forbidden to share, he commits an anachronism, for which we are, nevertheless, greatly obliged to him.

Dudley, it seems, first endeavored to dispose of Amy by poison. He applied to Dr. Bayley, a Professor of Physic at Oxford, and a Fellow of New College. That gentleman refused to do his behest, and Dudley endeavored to displace him. He employed in this affair Sir Richard Varney, who is said, indeed, to have prompted the foul deed, to which the report that Dudley was either a bachelor or a widower gave facility. The lady was enticed to Cumnor Hall, in Berkshire, there to rest under the care of Anthony Forster, who lived in the old manor-house of the place, and whilst she was here their scheme was brought to bear.

Seeing their victim deeply melancholy, "as one," says Aubrey, "who knew by her other handling that her death was not far off," they tried to persuade her to take

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a potion they had prepared for her. This | St. Mary's Church, Oxford, attested his she refused; and they then sent to Dr. conjugal sorrow. Only one evil accident Bayley, at Oxford, and entreated him to occurred. The earl's chaplain, one Dr. persuade her into compliance with their Babington, in preaching the funeral seradvice; but he, misdoubting them, and mon, referred to the lady as being pitifully dreading lest he should be hanged after-"murdered;" instead of saying, "pitifully wards, should the murder be found out," slain." Such is the account of Aubrey. as a color to their sin," refused. Then It is said by grave, dispassionate reasoners, it was necessary to adopt some other plan. not to be very consistent, and that the siPoor doomed one! One day, when still lence of the lady's family tends to prove detained in that gloomy old manor-house, that the inquisition after her death referred all her servants were sent off by Varney to the disposal of her property; but tradiand Forster to Abingdon, three miles from tion is ever a safer guide than argument. Cumnor, Varney remaining alone with her, with one man only. Then the deed of horror was accomplished! The unhappy Amy was first stifled, or strangled, it is not known which; and afterwards the two miscreants flung her down stairs, and "broke her neck, using much violence upon her." A report was set on foot in the neighborhood, that she had met with this accident by chance, and "still without hurting of her hood that was upon her head." But, says Aubrey," the inhabitants of the place will tell you that she was conveyed from her usual chamber where she lay to another, where the bed's head of her chamber stood close upon a secret postern-door, where they, in the night time, came and stifled her in her bed, bruised her head very much, and broke her neck, throwing her down stairs."

How the blood freezes in such a recital! Innocence, youth, rank, pleaded not for the wretched Amy in that dark hour, with those murderous tools; and the blow came from the hand that should have protected and

saved her.

The miscreants hoped that murder would not out, but a just avenging Providence defeated their schemes. One of the two persons concerned was afterwards convicted of felony. During his imprisonment he related the tale of Amy's death; he was instantly, by the Earl of Leicester's vengeance, made away with, and was found dead in his cell. Varney died miserably in London, and, stung by remorse, was heard, shortly before his death, to say that all the devils in hell were tearing him to pieces! Forster, a person before this event given to mirth and hospitality, pined and drooped away in silent anguish. An inquest sat upon the mangled remains of Amy, and her brother came to Cumnor to investigate her death; but Leicester found means to stop his mouth, and to suppress all inquiries. And a splendid funeral in

the

The death of Amy removed the obstacle, but did not insure the earl's nuptials with the queen. Honors were, indeed, showered down upon him in abundance, and whatever he desired for himself or his friends was bestowed upon him as soon as asked. When at Cambridge with the queen, earl received honors little short of those due to royalty; but still the one boon was withheld-her regal hand. Elizabeth knew no equal, even in her affections. In despair, and prone, notwithstanding all his barbarous conduct to poor Amy, to the tender affections, a marriage took place at this time between Douglas, baroness-dowager of Sheffield, and the fascinating Leicester. The union was, however, kept a secret, and its actual proof has even been doubted. The unfortunate Lady Douglas Howard, Leicester's second wife, was the daughter of Howard, first Baron Effingham. Her first husband, Lord Sheffield, died suddenly of that mysterious complaint to which the slanderous of those times gave the name of "Leicester's rheum," a term which speaks volumes of his imputed character. This lady was solemnly wedded to Dudley at Esher, in Surrey, as she herself and other witnesses deposed, according to the rites of the Church of England. The ring then placed upon her finger was set with five pointed diamonds, having a table diamond in the centre; and it had been a gift to the Earl of Leicester from one of the Earls of Pembroke, on condition that he should use it for a wedding-ring, and for no other purpose. The lady and the witnesses were vowed to secresy, from fear of the queen's displeasure. Soon afterwards the birth of a son appeared likely to cement the union; and Leicester even committed himself so far as to write a letter, in which he thanked God for that event, and subscribed himself, "Your loving husband, Robert Leicester." A daughter was also the offspring of this marriage. Moreover,

Lady Douglas was served in her chamber | ral who suffered at Waterloo claim and find as a countess, until her lord gave orders the benefits of that tranquil and comfortathat such honors should be omitted, for fear of a disclosure (a circumstance which Scott, with others, has borrowed in relation to Amy Robsart). Notwithstanding these manifest bonds, five years afterwards Leicester married Lettice, countess of Essex, the death of whose husband, Walter, earl of Essex, drew down many suspicious on the earl.

ble residence, granted to them for life. A master (to be a clergyman) resides at one extremity of the quadrangle, his windows overlooking that pleasant country, from the fertile pastures of which the revenues of the hospital are derived. A corridor, garnished with flowers, runs round the first story of the quadrangle; whilst to the west is a rude but spacious hall, in which James I. rested on his journey from Scotland to England. All is serene; and a chapel,

Henceforth began a system of persecution towards the ill-fated Lady Douglas Sheffield. That high-spirited woman re-standing on a rock of sandstone, beneath fused an offer of 7001. as a yearly provision. She was then threatened, upon her non-compliance, with never seeing her husband more, nor receiving a single farthing from him unless she gave up her claims. The unhappy Lady Sheffield soon found that a slow poison was consuming her strength; she too well knew from what source it emanated. Her hair and nails fell off, and, to preserve her life, she gave her hand, notwithstanding her previous union with Dudley, to Sir Edward Stafford, the queen's ambassador in France; although she felt and acknowledged that, in so doing, she prejudiced the claims of her children.

Such was the lot of those whom Lord Leicester cursed with his preference. Yet, during all this time, it was his ambition to be esteemed a religious person. Hypocrisy perfected his sins, and left not a single regret to those who would fain believe that such a being could not combine talents, bounty, accomplishments, with a deep dye of crime.

In the now silent tower of Warwick, the gaiety of which has long since been swallowed up in its new and busy neighbor, Leamington, at one extremity of the High Street, apart from the thoroughfare, there stands an ancient hospital, erected in the height of his career by the proud Earl of Leicester. You enter beneath an humble archway, and a monastic building, round a small quadrangle, recalls you to other times, plants you in another age. A series of conventual-looking apartments, connected together by a rude cloister, contains twelve brethren, the bedesmen of Lord Leicester, whose silver badge, the bear's paw, they still wear, as did the liveried servants of old, on the sleeves of their blue cloth surcoats. The poor brethren were to be chosen, more especially, from those wounded in battle; and at this time seve

which an arch is formed, crowns the whole with that sanctity which the earl lovedin public. There is no pulpit, prayers only being permitted; and a goodly sight it is to see these ancient men turn out from their monastic quarters and walk, in sober order, to prayers; the custom of the sixteenth century, its dress, its rules, being strictly observed to this day; and they show you, in the large conventual-looking kitchen of the hospital, a sampler, worked with the arms of the Dudleys, and said, by tradition, to be the handiwork of Amy Robsart. All recalls the saintly charity of olden times, coupled, perhaps, with superstition, but yet providing for the poor and aged in a way they best like-with homes.

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The earl continued to sin on, and to atone. It was before his third marriage, and ere yet the Earl of Essex had experienced the effects of a cunning recipe," brought by an Italian surgeon to Lord Leicester, and whilst Lady Sheffield was in close secresy, and when the memory of Amy had somewhat died away, that Queen Elizabeth visited Kenilworth. Lord Leicester resembled his father in one respect, he wished to render Kenilworth what his father had desired to render Dudley,"one of the fairest as well as the strongest places in England." The project cost him 60,000l., and required scores of extortions to complete it. Even his gardens were the result of an oppression which nothing but the dread of "Leicester's rheum" could have caused an indignant and groaning public to have tolerated. Forgotten for the time, perhaps, were all private interests; love was forsaken, friendship despised, and ambition, which grasped at a crown, alone remembered by the remorseless Leicester.

It was in the July of 1575 that Queen Elizabeth, in one of her progresses, visited Warwickshire. Kenilworth Castle was in

its height of splendor and beauty; for the portion called the Leicester Buildings was completed. Light and elegant in their architecture, much of them remains; and, on some parts, patches of mortar and of beams and rafts show the extent and height of the dwelling-rooms. Well might old Laneham write of "the rare beauty of bilding that his honor hath advanced; all of the hard quarry-stone; every room so spacious, so well belighted, and so hy roofed within; so seemly too sight by du proportion without; a day-tyme, on every side so glittering by glasse; a night, by continuall brightness of candel, fyre, and torchlight, transparent thro the lyghtsome wyndy, as it wear the Egiptian pharos relucent untoo all the Alexandrian coast.

But the great beauty of the castle consisted in gardens, an acre or more in extent, on the north of the castle; within the castle wall, extending the whole length of it, was raised a terrace of fine grass, sloping its verdant sides to the garden. The garden was adorned after the fashion of the day, with obelisks, spheres, and white bears, the ancient badge of the Earls of Warwick; at either extremity were arbors, "redolent," as Laneham expresses it, by sweet trees and flowers; alleys, some of them covered with grass; others, for a change, with fine sand, not so light or soft as to distress the lover of those fair promenades with dust, but smooth, firm, and pleasant to walk on as the sands by the seashore-were constructed in four divisions, ornamented at each angle by a pilaster rising pyramidally fifteen feet high, upon which were set orbs of ten inches thick. These pilasters were coated with fine porphyry, thither conveyed at great expense. Such was the garden, and singularly serene and beautiful must it have looked beneath the frowning towers above; whilst, adds the encomiast of the scene, "further also, by great cast and cost" (I trust old Laneham will pardon my here altering his spelling), "the sweetness of savor on all sides, made so respirant from the redolent plants, and fragrant herbs and flowers, in form, color, and quantity, so deliciously variant; and fruit-trees bedecked with apples, pears, and ripe cherries."

Near the terrace, and adjoining the north wall, stood a large cage, or aviary, twenty feet in height. This fabric was covered over with a wire net; it contained windows, separated by jutting columns, and surmounted by arches. The columns supported a cornice, underneath which every part was

beautified by imitations, in painting, of precious stones, great diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, set in gold," by skilful head and hand, by toil and pencil, so lively expressed, as it might be great marvel and pleasure to consider how near excellency of art could approach unto the perfection of nature."

Then, at intervals, there were holes and caverns cut into the walls, both for warmth and coolness, to roost the birds at night; a refuge, too, against the weather. It is in one of those grottoes that Sir Walter Scott supposes Amy Robsart to have concealed herself, and to have been surprised therein by Queen Elizabeth. Who can forget that masterly, that exquisite scene? But since, as Laneham remarks, "the silver-sounded lute, without the sweet touch of hands; the glorious cup, without the fresh fragrant wine; or the rich ring with gem, without the fair-featured finger, is nothing, indeed, in his proper use; even so his honor accounted of this mansion, till he had placed there tenants accordingly." He had his aviary, therefore, replenished with birds of every country; one, indeed, then most rare, from Africa; and the ear and the eye were alike riveted and entranced by gorgeous plumes and soft sounds.

In the midst of the garden stood a fountain of white marble, from the midst of which rose a column set up in the shape of two Atalanta joined together, back to back, the one looking to the east, the other to the west, with their hands holding a fair bowl, over which played jets of pellucid water, which fell into the bason wherein the column was planted. This being kept always two feet deep in water, was filled with "fair liking" fish, pleasantly playing to and fro; and here the ragged staff, one of the cognisances of the Dudleys, was seen overtopping the column; whilst below were figures of Neptune, armed with his trident, trailed into the deep by his marine horses; on another side was Thetis, in her chariot, drawn by dolphins; then Triton, by his fishes. Here was Proteus, bearding his sea-bulls; there Doris and daughters solacing the sea and sands. And here was many a pastime, many a practical joke played off, by turning the water over the loiterers in that exquisite scene; a species of frolic which, as Laneham relates, moved the "trees to seem laughing, but the skies to more sport."

Beyond, whilst around you were the soft gales and the delicious coolness of the gush

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