Leicester as Stepfather

Robert Dudley was fond of children.1 As a young uncle he had taken a fancy to his five-year-old nephew Philip Sidney, an affection which lasted for a lifetime; when he visited William of Orange in 1582 the prince’s wife was impressed by the kindness Leicester showed to her five-year-old daughter Louise Juliana. He deeply regretted that as long as he could not re-marry (fearing Elizabeth’s wrath) he would not leave legitimate heirs to his house, but in his words there is also a natural longing for offspring of his own. Finally in 1578 marry he did, for love, but he also acquired a family of stepchildren by his marriage to Lettice Devereux, an aspect that may have made his choice even more attractive.

By her first husband, Walter Devereux, 1st Earl of Essex, Countess Lettice had four surviving children: Penelope, Dorothy, Robert, and Walter. In September 1578, when she married the Earl of Leicester, they were aged 15, 14, 12, and 9 respectively. Leicester took a close interest in his stepchildren, though at no point was he their official guardian. The young Earl of Essex’ guardian became William Cecil, Lord Burghley. For a few years Robert Devereux lived in Burghley’s London household, which functioned as a boarding school for his aristocratic wards. Dancing took twice as much room in the curriculum as Latin – still, to break up the routine, young Essex (being also his godson) regularly received visits from the Earl of Leicester.2

Penelope and Dorothy Devereux as teenagers. A double portrait like this hung in Leicester House.

The teenagers Dorothy and Penelope Devereux. A double portrait like this was at Leicester House.

Lettice’s daughters Penelope and Dorothy moved into a more austere boarding school, the household of the Earl and Countess of Huntingdon in Leicestershire. The Earl of Huntingdon was the girls’ guardian and a relative of their father, while the countess happened to be Leicester’s sister. She took a personal interest in giving young gentlewomen a Puritan upbringing. However, in the case of the Devereux girls her efforts were all in vain: Their love lives became even more interesting than their mother’s.

In Leicester House, Robert Dudley’s grand residence on the Strand, Penelope and her brother Robert had their own rooms: My Lord of Essex’ Chamber, my Lady Rich’s Chamber.3 There were also the portraits of young Essex and his sisters, as well as a double portrait: “two ladyes in one picktwer, my La. Rych and my La. Doryt”.4 The Catholic hate pamphlet, Leicester’s Commonwealth, naturally claimed that the earl’s relationship with his stepdaughters was of a most sinister nature, Leicester’s alleged appetite for women being such that “the keeping of the mother with two or three of her daughters at once or successively is no more with him than the eating of an hen and her chicken together.”

There is, of course, no reason to read anything dark into his concern and affection for Penelope and Dorothy. Penelope, Philip Sidney’s Stella, in 1581 was forced to marry the rich Lord Rich against her clearly expressed wishes. Leicester, like everyone else, believed it was a good match, but the matter did give him some thought, and by the next year he had learnt something: He had heard “some talk of marriage between my well beloved nephew Philip Sidney and the Lady Dorothy Devereux”, and now “my hearty and earnest wish was and is that it be so, for the great good will and liking I have to each party … I do most heartily desire that such love and liking might be between them as might bring a marriage”. He offered the couple an annual income and for Dorothy a dowry of £2,000, added to her father’s bequest.5 But Dorothy had other plans.

In 1583 she secretly married Thomas Perrot, the son of Leicester’s good friend Sir John Perrot, and the two eloped to escape the consequences. Especially the queen’s wrath. Other than Elizabeth, her family forgave Dorothy soon enough, and in October 1584 she received £20 from Leicester as a gift.6 Her brother Robert received the same amount from Leicester in September 1585; apparently the young Earl of Essex, now nearly 20, needed some pocket money to spend at court. He could do with some spoiling, his mother having scolded him for his laziness and “undutifulness as a son”. The two earls had just arrived from the country, where Essex had been extremely lucky: “He fell into a ditche & was almost drownd in going a hunting in September.”7

In recent years Leicester and his stepson had frequently toured the country together. They had visited Kenilworth and various towns, like Shrewsbury, Denbigh, and Chester, and Leicester had also been welcomed at Chartley, Essex’ family seat.8 In 1584, while travelling through Oxfordshire to see his illegitimate son (also Robert), Robert Dudley received the honours of his 15-year-old stepson, Walter, who attended Oxford university. Walter Devereux and his fellow student Thomas Clinton stayed four nights with the Earl of Leicester at Woodstock.9

The Earl of Essex in 1588. By William Segar, a painter regularly employed by the Earl of Leicester.

The Earl of Essex in 1588. By William Segar, a painter frequently employed by the Earl of Leicester.

We next hear of Walter during the Armada campaign, where “your son Mr Devereux” won the praises of Lord Howard of Effingham, the Lord Admiral. Walter was to die in battle only a few years later, in France. Other than his younger brother, who was at sea, the Earl of Essex played a prominent part at Tilbury, Leicester’s moment of glory when he received Queen Elizabeth for the famous review of her troops. Since about 1587 Essex had been the queen’s young favourite, the star of the court. He had returned from the Low Countries, where he had served with his stepfather and watched with him at the death bed of Sir Philip Sidney, whose role as Leicester’s political heir he inherited.

During Leicester’s second stay in the Netherlands Essex remained at court, dutifully letting his stepfather know of the latest intrigues. While the queen and her ministers were discussing the recent loss of the important town of Sluys, Essex was waiting in the next room: “What is decreed I know not … I desired her … if they laid any matter to your charge, that she would suspend judgment till she heard yourself speak. I will watch with the best diligence I can, that your enemies may not take advantage of your absence … Your son, most ready to do you service, Essex”.10 Back from the Netherlands at the end of 1587, Leicester was finally prepared to give up, after 29 years, his position of Master of the Horse – to Essex, his stepson. He also managed to procure him the Garter in the spring of 1588.

The Earl of Leicester in 1586, by Hendrik Goltzius

The Earl of Leicester in 1586, by Hendrik Goltzius

Robert Devereux was also the occasion of Robert Dudley’s last official appearance. After Leicester’s death a spy reported to King Philip: “The last time I saw him was at the earl of Essex’s review [of troops], at the window with the Queen”. Among the last matters the earl had on his mind in his life was a request by his stepdaughter Penelope, who was keen on the wardship of a young gentleman. Leicester wrote to Burghley, Master of the Wards: “There was yesterday a great-bellied lady to have solicited the same but she was not able to tarry it out, your L. being with her Majesty in my chamber. She hath required her uncle your true servant to solicit this matter”.

Leicester left London to go to the baths at Buxton, but he got only to Cornbury near Oxford when he fell seriously ill. He had been suffering for a while and, who knows, Elizabeth perhaps sensed that he would never come back. She unexpectedly ordered Essex to move into Leicester’s court apartments; perplexed, the younger earl wrote to Leicester to ask for his opinion. Leicester most probably never saw the letter. He had successfully installed his stepson as his political heir. Perhaps too successfully. He would have been dismayed to know that within months of his death Penelope and Essex would enter into a dangerous correspondence with James VI of Scotland – helped on by his now jobless political secretary, Jean Hotman.11 Whith Leicester alive, such reckless behaviour would not have been tolerated.

Notes
1 Gristwood 2007 p. 298
2 Nelson 2003 p. 201
3 Jenkins 2002 p. 253
4 HMC Bath V p. 224
5 Freedman 1983 pp. 57 – 58
6 Adams 1995 p. 181
7 Hammer 1999 pp. 14, 15
8 Hammer 1999 pp. 34 – 35
9 Adams 1995 p. 190
10 Jenkins 2002 pp. 341 – 342
11 Freedman 1983 pp. 81 – 83

Sources
Calendar of … State Papers Relating to English Affairs … in … Simancas, 1558–1603. (ed. by Martin Hume, 1892–1899).

Leicester’s Commonwealth. (ed. D. C. Peck, 1985). http://www.dpeck.info/write/leic-comm2.htm

Manuscripts of The Marquess of Bath, Volume V: Talbot, Dudley and Devereux Papers 1533–1659. (Historical Manuscripts Commission, 1980).

Adams, Simon (1995): Household Accounts and Disbursement Books of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, 1558–1561, 1584–1586. Cambridge University Press.

Chamberlin, Frederick (1939): Elizabeth and Leycester. Dodd, Mead & Co.

Freedman, Sylvia (1983): Poor Penelope: Lady Penelope Rich. An Elizabethan Woman. The Kensal Press.

Gristwood, Sarah (2007): Elizabeth and Leicester: Power, Passion, Politics. Viking.

Hammer, P. E. J. (1999): The Polarisation of Elizabethan Politics: The Political Career of Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, 1585–1597. Cambridge University Press.

Jenkins, Elizabeth (2002): Elizabeth and Leicester. The Phoenix Press.

Lacey, Robert (1971): Robert, Earl of Essex: An Elizabethan Icarus. Weidenfeld & Nicolson.

Nelson, Alan (2003): Monstrous Adversary: The Life of Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. Liverpool University Press.

Read, Conyers (1936): “A Letter from Robert, Earl of Leicester, to a Lady”. The Huntington Library Bulletin. No. 9. April 1936.

William Cecil and Amy Robsart: Was He Behind Her Death?

It has always been a popular notion that Lord Robert Dudley’s wife, Amy, was murdered. The theory that this was done on behalf of Sir William Cecil, the queen’s Principal Secretary, is much more recent, but only slightly less popular for that. Cecil was first suggested as a suspect by the best-selling author Alison Weir in 1998:

One man did profit from the death of Amy Dudley, and that was William Cecil. … He was a perceptive man, and he could foresee that if she died in suspicious circumstances, as many people expected her to do, then the finger of suspicion would point inexorably to her husband – as indeed it did. Cecil also knew that Elizabeth … would be unlikely to risk her popularity and her crown to marry a man whose reputation was so tainted.

In September 1560, Cecil had seen Dudley in the ascendant and his own future in ruins; he feared not only for his position, … but also for the future of England and the Anglican Settlement.1

If Amy Dudley was murdered, and there is a big if here, Cecil is an excellent candidate according to the Ciceronian principle of Cui bono? But did he have motive and opportunity? The founder of the Elizabethan secret service, Cecil would have been rightly placed to arrange the crime and to manipulate the Coroner’s jury afterwards. What about his motive? As long as Amy Dudley lived her husband could not marry the queen, but what if she suffered from a serious illness? The evidence for this is inconclusive; yet unlike we, William Cecil would have known the truth. In his speech to the Spanish ambassador (which was utterly disingenuous and occurred around the time of Amy’s death) he claimed that it was “given out” that Lady Dudley was ill, but that this was not so and that she would take great care not be poisoned. One can only wonder why he broached the subject of her malady at all if she was not ill. As reported by de Quadra, his words almost amount to a proof that she was. If she was dying, however, Cecil would have had a strong motive indeed.

Equally important, though, William Cecil was arguably the only person who was in a position to cover up the deed and obfuscate the facts in the long term. The long term consequences, a key aspect, are strangely overlooked by the proponents of any murder theory. In 1567 a panel of the Privy Council questioned John Appleyard, Amy Dudley’s half-brother, as well as several of Leicester’s servants. After years of having no problem with the jury’s verdict of 1560 (that Amy had died through misfortune, i.e. an accident), Appleyard, who had been present at the proceedings at Cumnor, had decided that his sister had been murdered. Claiming her husband was innocent of the crime, he maintained he knew the culprit and would reveal his identity to the council. Four noblemen – the Earl of Arundel, the Marquess of Northampton, Lord Admiral Clinton, and the Earl of Pembroke – examined him under the nose of William Cecil, who led the whole inquiry. We do not know whether Cecil became nervous when Appleyard opened his mouth; but in a letter to Leicester he informed him of what he thought of Appleyard and his ilk: ‟If William Huggyns be with your Lordship, I pray you let him come with your Lordship that he may be spoken withal upon the sudden, concerning Appleyard, for amongst them they will fall out in their own colours.“2

Appleyard retracted his statements once he was given a copy of the coroner’s verdict (which he had requested) and had opportunity to read it carefully in his cell in the Fleet prison. Since this was not an agreeable place it could be argued that Appleyard was put under pressure in order to silence him, but this does not account for the interesting fact that he was left in peace henceforth. He was even rescued from execution five years later in the aftermath of his own little Norfolk rebellion. Some 800 rebels were executed all over England in early 1572; not so John Appleyard, which undoubtedly had to do with his connections to Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.3 Now, if Appleyard really had known the killer of Amy Robsart by name (as he had claimed) it beggars belief that Cecil would not have found means to dispatch this dangerous man once and for all; and the same goes for the Earl of Leicester if he had been the guilty party or involved in his wife’s death.

If Amy Dudley was murdered, why did there never come anything to light during the thirty or forty years after her death? The most likely answer is that there was no murder. The Earl of Leicester had high profile enemies, and people like the 19th Earl of Arundel or the 17th Earl of Oxford were only too happy to compromise him, alas their efforts were all in vain. William Cecil also had his enemies, and some have counted Leicester among them. Would he, could he have lived for decades knowing what Cecil had done to his wife – and his reputation? On one occasion, in September 1578, Dudley wrote to Cecil, complaining about some misunderstandings concerning the Mint and even hinting at some obscure wrong done to him in the past. Murder, though, is clearly far from his mind while there is hopefulness of a friendship renewed:

We began our service with our sovereign together and have long continued hitherto together. And touching your fortune I am sure yourself cannot have a thought that ever I was enemy to it. … What opinion you have indeed of me, I have … somewhat in doubt, though I promise you I know no cause in the world in myself that I have given you other than good. You may suppose this to be a strange humour in me to write thus and in this sort to you, having never done the like before, although I must confess I have had more cause of unkindness (as I have thought) than by this trifling occasion.

Your Lordship is more acquainted by years with the world than I am. And yet, by reason we live in a worse world where more cunning and less fidelity is used, may judge of bad and good dealing as well as an elder man, and the one being so common and the other so scant must make the proof of the better the more precious whenever it is found. And surely, my Lord, where I profess, I will be found both a faithful and a just, honest friend.

See also:
The Death of Amy Robsart: The Improbability of Murder
Was Amy Dudley Ill? The Evidence
William Cecil and Amy Robsart: Talking to de Quadra
William Cecil and Amy Robsart: Visiting Lord Robert

Notes
1 Weir 2008 p. 108
2 HMC Pepys p. 119
3 Wilson 1981 p. 183

Sources
The National Archives: State Papers.

Report on the Pepys Manuscripts Preserved at Magdalen College, Cambridge. (1911) Historical Manuscripts Commission. HMSO.

Nelson, Alan (2003): Monstrous Adversary: The Life of Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. Liverpool University Press.

Weir, Alison (2008): Elizabeth the Queen. Vintage.

Wilson, Derek (1981): Sweet Robin: A Biography of Robert Dudley Earl of Leicester 1533–1588. Hamish Hamilton.

William Cecil and Amy Robsart: Visiting Lord Robert

In the week following his wife’s deadly fall from a flight of stairs Robert Dudley wrote many letters. He had left the court at Windsor for his house in Kew, “whither the lordes resorted to him to comforte him.”1 He also received his tailor’s man, Jennings, who came “to take measure of your lordship”.2 The mourning widower would wear “his blackes till Easter following”,3 that is for about six months.

Lord Robert Dudley, c.1560

Lord Robert Dudley, c.1560

One of the first visitors at Kew after 10 September 1560, the day Robert probably arrived there, must have been Sir William Cecil, the queen’s chief minister and Principal Secretary. Dudley was exceedingly grateful and hoped that Cecil, as promised, would plead with Elizabeth for his return:

Sir, I thank you very much for your being here, and the great friendship you have shown towards me I shall not forget. I am very loath to wish you here again but I would be very glad to be with you there. I pray you let me hear from you, what you think best for me to do. If you doubt, I pray you ask the question for the sooner you can advise me [to come] thither, the more I shall thank you. I am sorry so sudden a chance should breed me so great a change, for methinks I am here all the while as it were in a dream, and too far too far from the place I am bound to be, where, methinks also, this long, idle time cannot excuse me for the duty I have to discharge elsewhere. I pray you help him that sues to be at liberty out of so great a bondage. Forget me not, though you see me not and I will remember you and fail you not, and so wish you well to do. In haste this morning.

I beseech you, Sir, forget me not to offer up the humble sacrifice you promised me.

Your very assured,

R. Dudley4

As his manuscript shows, Robert Dudley was agitated when he penned this message: Instead of preparing a draft and writing out a “fair copy” afterwards, he sent his letter with all his corrections, “with mistakes scribbled through it”, the writing looking rushed.5 His state of shock is apparent: “for methinks I am here all the while as it were in a dream”. This psychological fact cannot be faked; this is not the state of mind of a cold-blooded wife murderer.

His single-minded preoccupation with getting back to court – his natural habitat – has been criticized ever since, but again it shows his genuine reaction. It did not occur to Robert to dissemble feelings which might have appeared more appropriate.

Was he visited by a dissembler? William Cecil certainly had quickly capitalized on the tragedy which affected the man he may have seen as a rival for power.6 He had thrown oil into the flames of scandal by talking to the Spanish ambassador, the gossipy de Quadra, a few hours after the news of Amy Dudley’s death had signalled to him that the queen might indeed marry her favourite and that his career might come to an end (so he feared). But he had not just told de Quadra that Lady Dudley was about to be murdered, and taking great care not to be poisoned, significantly, he had added that “Lord Robert would be better in paradise than here.”

Cecil reckoned he could afford some sympathy, and correctly; the events brought his return to unquestionable favour and within weeks he had secured the position of Master of the Queen’s Wards, a post that dealt with huge sums of money and must have been most welcome to an ambitious builder of great ancestral homes.

It was not Cecil’s intention to destroy Lord Robert completely. With his colleague Nicholas Throckmorton he worked hard to intrigue against another royal Dudley marriage,7 both men having been heavily implicated in a previous one. They had escaped unscathed, while Robert and his family had not, which was a principal reason they did not want him as consort. But they had known Robert Dudley for many years, seen him grow into a man, and both had a good opinion of his person. Throckmorton to Cecil: ‟I do like him for some respects well, and esteem him for many good parts and gifts of nature that be in him.“8 – Cecil to Throckmorton: “I will never desire towards him but well.”9

See also:
William Cecil and Amy Robsart: Talking to de Quadra

Notes
1 Adams; Archer; Bernard 2003 p. 66
2 Adams 1995 p. 159
3 Adams; Archer; Bernard 2003 p. 67
4 Skidmore 2010 p. 237
5 Skidmore 2010 p. 238
6 Skidmore 2010 p. 239; Gristwood 2007 pp. 108 – 109
7 Skidmore 2010 pp. 243, 249, 255 – 256
8 Gristwood 2007 p. 112
9 Skidmore 2010 pp. 357 – 358

Sources
Adams, Simon (ed.) (1995): Household Accounts and Disbursement Books of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, 1558–1561, 1584–1586. Cambridge University Press.

Adams, Simon; Archer, Ian; Bernard, G. W. (eds.) (2003): ‟A ‘Journall’ of Matters of State happened from time to time as well within and without the Realme from and before the Death of King Edw. the 6th untill the Yere 1562“ in: Ian Archer (ed.): Religion, Politics, and Society in Sixteenth-Century England. Cambridge University Press.

Gristwood, Sarah (2007): Elizabeth and Leicester: Power, Passion, Politics. Viking.

Skidmore, Chris (2010): Death and the Virgin: Elizabeth, Dudley and the Mysterious Fate of Amy Robsart. Weidenfeld & Nicolson.

William Cecil and Amy Robsart: Talking to de Quadra

On a day in September 1560 Sir William Cecil, Principal Secretary to the Queen, had a talk with Bishop de la Quadra, the Spanish ambassador. Cecil had recently returned from Scotland, where he had concluded the Treaty of Edinburgh, a triumph of diplomacy which guaranteed not only continued English influence in Scottish affairs, but also Elizabeth I’s right to her own throne. Cecil was frustrated. He felt that his achievement went underappreciated while the queen was preoccupied with Lord Robert. Back in Scotland rumours had come to his ears, detailing how Elizabeth spent whole days with the favourite, “without coming abroad”.1 Now, some six month later, de Quadra reported once again the same thing:

The queen's Principal Secretary, Sir William Cecil, had an interesting conversation with the Spanish ambassador in September 1560: Did he believe what he said?

The queen’s Principal Secretary, Sir William Cecil, had an interesting conversation with the Spanish ambassador in September 1560: Did he believe his own words?

I met the Secretary Cecil, whom I know to be in disgrace. Lord Robert, I was aware, was endeavouring to deprive him of his place. With little difficulty I led him to the subject, and after my many protestations and entreaties that I would keep secret what he was about to tell me, he said that the Queen was going on so strangely that he was about to withdraw from her service. It was a bad sailor, he said, who did not make for port when he saw a storm coming, and for himself he perceived the most manifest ruin impending over the Queen through her intimacy with Lord Robert. The Lord Robert had made himself master of the business of the state and of the person of the Queen, to the extreme injury of the realm, with the intention of marrying her, and she herself was shutting herself up in the palace to the peril of her health and life. That the realm would tolerate the marriage, he said he did not believe. He was, therefore, determined to retire into the country although he supposed they would send him to the Tower before they would let him go. He implored me for the love of God to remonstrate with the Queen, to persuade her not utterly to throw herself away as she was doing, and to remember what she owed to herself and her subjects. Of Lord Robert he said twice that he would be better in paradise than here. …

Last of all, he said that they were thinking of destroying Lord Robert’s wife. They had given out that she was ill, but she was not ill at all; she was very well and taking care not to be poisoned. God, he trusted, would never permit such a crime to be accomplished or so wretched a conspiracy to prosper.2

If Cecil wanted to baffle de Quadra, he has certainly startled a number of historians. Especially the Victorians; the translator of the materials in the Spanish calendar, Martin Hume, was so shocked that he falsified the text. Instead of the original grammatical construction, “pensavan hazer morir a su muger”,3 which can only be translated as “they were thinking of killing his wife”, Hume wrote “Robert was thinking of killing his wife”.4 The question, of course, is who were “they”; the traditional interpretation is Robert and Elizabeth, and that is also the reason for Hume taking liberties – clearly the queen had to be edited out. Not so with James Anthony Froude, who had made his own transcriptions at Simancas and remained faithful to what he saw there. It has recently been suggested that “they” stood for Robert Dudley’s henchmen.5 The unabridged Spanish original, however, remains vague as to who is referred to by “they” – and thus who, in Cecil’s view, was planning Amy Dudley’s death.

This may well have been intentional on Cecil’s part, though it is as likely a result of de Quadra’s somewhat confusing composition. Did William Cecil really believe what he was saying? And, crucially, when did he speak to Philip II’s agent? Many, especially older, books claim he met de Quadra on 6 September or certainly before Amy’s death, on the 8th of the month. This is not because de Quadra’s report would reveal a precise date, but because most Victorian and 20th century scholars could not imagine that Cecil was speaking anything but the truth. De Quadra was a much more likely suspect; Alfred Leslie Pollard made out his “deft economy of dates” and that he “was in the pay of the Guises”6 (the anti-English, anti-Spanish faction at the French court).

Indeed, all that can be established from de Quadra’s text is that it reports events occurring a few days before 11 September 1560. Amy Dudley died on 8 September and the first news of her death reached her husband on 9 September, perhaps still in the morning.

After describing his meeting with Cecil, de Quadra wrote yet more explosive news, in the eyes of Victorian historians at least:

The next day the Queen told me as she returned from hunting that Robert’s wife was dead or nearly so, and asked me not to say anything about it.

And he finally added:

Since writing the above I hear the Queen has published the death of Robert’s wife, and said in Italian, “She broke her neck.” She must have fallen down a staircase. – London, 11 September 1560.7

From de Quadra’s own words it is clear that Queen Elizabeth spoke to him the day after his conversation with Cecil. He finished his letter on 11 September with a postscript, after having heard the official news of Amy Dudley’s death as given out by Elizabeth. It seems reasonable to assume that the official pronouncement would have followed hard on the queen’s casual announcement to the ambassador, perhaps on the next day. Thus, a very plausible date for Cecil’s talk would be 9 September, the day the news reached the court’s inner circle.

"You shall show it to myself only": Elizabeth I expected to be told important secrets by her Principal Secretary.

“You shall show it to myself only”: Elizabeth I expected to be let into important secrets by her Principal Secretary.

It is not likely that Cecil had prophetic gifts; it is much more plausible that he spoke to the ambassador after having gained knowledge of Amy’s death before it was made public. No matter whether he felt as frustrated about Elizabeth and her favourite as he claimed, it was in his interest to encourage the scandal. Cecil did not want Robert Dudley as consort, not in 1560 and not later; in months and years ahead he would ruthlessly intrigue to hinder Robert’s suit, at home and abroad – by the way of confidential letters and, perhaps, talks.8

Lady Dudley alive and well suited him best. Her death, on the other hand, would make her widower free to marry the queen, at least in theory. Once Amy was no more, Cecil’s best option was to add fuel to the fire of the incipient scandal. In his view, and he was probably right, only a huge scandal could deter the queen from marrying the man she loved. Choosing de Quadra was the obvious thing to do – the Habsburg ambassadors had been the only ones who all along had suspected Robert and Elizabeth of intended foul play.

Some might, of course, believe that William Cecil really had knowledge in advance of a crime in the making and that, via de Quadra, he honestly wished to warn Elizabeth of her impending ruin. This was the view taken by de Quadra himself, who in the same letter prides himself on how the political players in England “would all confide in me if I mixed myself up in their affairs”. Most probably Cecil exploited the bishop’s vanity here, though. If he would have had sensitive information touching Elizabeth he would surely have remembered her words to him on his appointment as Principal Secretary: “if yow shall knowe any thinge necessarye to bee declared to me of secresye yow shall show it to my self only and assure your self I will not fayle to keepe taciturnitye therin.”9 – He would never have shared it with de Quadra, the representative of a potentially hostile power.

See also:
William Cecil and Amy Robsart: Visiting Lord Robert
Was Amy Dudley Ill? The Evidence

Notes
1 Williams 1964 p. 60
2 Wilson 1981 pp. 115 – 116. Translation by J. A. Froude.
3 Lettenhove II p. 531
4 CSP Span I p. 175
5 Skidmore 2010 p. 357 – 358
6 Chamberlin 1939 p. 40
7 CSP Span I pp. 175 – 176
8 Skidmore 2010 pp. 243, 249, 255 – 256; Laoutaris 2014 pp. 79 – 80
9 Doran 2013 p. 5

Sources
Calendar of … State Papers Relating to English Affairs … in … Simancas, 1558–1603. (ed. by Martin Hume, 1892–1899). HMSO.

Relations politiques de Pays-Bas et de l’Angleterre sous règne de Philippe II. (ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove, 1882 – 1900)

Chamberlin, Frederick (1939): Elizabeth and Leycester. Dodd, Mead & Co.

Doran, Susan (2013): “Queen Elizabeth I of England: Monarchical Leadership in Action”. In: Peter Ivar Kaufmann: Leadership and Elizabethan Culture. Palgrave Macmillan.

Gristwood, Sarah (2007): Elizabeth and Leicester: Power, Passion, Politics. Viking.

Laoutaris, Chris (2014): Shakespeare and the Countess: The Battle that Gave Birth to the Globe. Fig Tree.

Skidmore, Chris (2010): Death and the Virgin: Elizabeth, Dudley and the Mysterious Fate of Amy Robsart. Weidenfeld & Nicolson.

Williams, Neville (1964): Thomas Howard, Fourth Duke of Norfolk. Barrie & Rockliff.

Wilson, Derek (1981): Sweet Robin: A Biography of Robert Dudley Earl of Leicester 1533–1588. Hamish Hamilton.

Andrew Dudley Meets the Emperor

Edward VI, seated

The peacemaker: Edward VI, seated

On 28 December 1552 the Duke of Northumberland imparted his latest thoughts on English diplomacy to his right hand man, Sir William Cecil. King Edward had just okayed the council’s suggestion “to employ ministers abroad for the public weal of Christendom”, that is to send envoys to Europe to offer English assistance in negotiating a peace between the Empire and France. Cecil was to tell Edward that he was to “be better served if those sent have grace and wit to note what they see and hear”. Those appointed by the council were Sir Andrew Dudley (“my brother”) and Sir Henry Sidney (“my son”), and it had not yet been decided who was to go to the emperor and who to the King of France; however, Northumberland thought that his son-in-law Sidney had “more means to express his mind in the Italian tongue than in the French” and so perhaps he should be the one to meet Charles V (whose first language, incidentally, was French).1

Ignoring the duke’s suggestion, the council sent Sidney to France and Dudley to the Low Countries – where the emperor was staying. For the last few years John Dudley had balanced successfully on a tightrope between the two great powers, and when both requested English assistance for their wars against each other, their demands were politely rejected and England remained neutral. Under these circumstances a general peace was welcome,2 especially as the negotiations would augment Edward’s prestige.

On 1 January 1553 Sir Andrew Dudley called on Jehan de Schefye, Charles V’s ambassador in London, to pay his respects and announce his mission:

He declared to me of his own accord that his charge was a very important one, but did not make himself more plain; he thanked me … and, after some more conversation, departed.3

Sidney and Dudley were chosen for their known personal closeness to the king rather than for any particular skills;4 the more convincingly they could represent the peace initiative as Edward’s personal suggestion. The sending of these “totally inexperienced” men has been criticized,5 yet Northumberland himself suggested that in due course they could be joined by “more experienced” diplomats and that the journey could also serve for their “learning and education”.6 Furthermore, Andrew Dudley was not wholly inexperienced. In 1546 Henry VIII had sent him with presents to Brussels, to Mary of Hungary, Charles V’s sister and Regent of the Netherlands: Dudley, in his role as Equerry of the Stable, brought horses, greyhounds, and running dogs.7

In 1553 Andrew Dudley again first travelled to Brussels, where he was received by Mary of Hungary on 8 January. One of the letters carried by him may have been an address from the emperor’s cousin, the Lady Mary, whom Northumberland had asked to emphasize England’s goodwill towards the Empire.8 Impatient to see the emperor himself, Dudley tried to intercept him on his way to Flanders. Sir Richard Morrison, the English resident ambassador with Charles, knew nothing of this until he met Dudley at Trier, on the Moselle. The ailing ruler was averse to be molested by diplomats while journeying; Morrison nevertheless managed to arrange an interview at Luxembourg in which Charles referred them to a later occasion.9

Morrison and Dudley went back to Brussels, where during February they were busy hosting their Imperial colleagues (including Diego de Mendoza, godfather to Guildford, Andrew Dudley’s nephew):

On the 9th Morysine invited Mons. de Rie to dine with Dudley at his lodgings, where he should meet Don Diego di Mendoza … and others. … After dinner De Rie accepted an invitation from Dudley to dine with him on the following day, and to bring his guest with him as he had done to Morysine. The same evening Mons. de Courriers came to town, and he also gladly came to dine at Dudley’s.

The Emperor Charles V, seated

Not disinclined to peace, in principle: Charles V, seated

Finally, Charles V was ready to meet the English envoys,

for on Friday the 10th instant he sent a gentleman of his chamber to Dudley to tell him that the Emperor would speak with him on the morrow, as accordingly at three o’clock of the Saturday he did. The Court was very well furnished with noblemen, all of them very glad to embrace the Ambassadors, and glad to talk well of England. The Emperor came forth without staff or any to lead him, his chair being set on the farther end of the chamber that they might see he could go so far without any stay. In the conversation which ensued between his Majesty and Dudley, the former said that until particularities were known from his enemy how could he will the King of England to work in the matter of peace? What answer could he give? All the world knew he began not the wars; they knew France took his subjects’ ships and goods, had invaded the empire, hired men to rebellion, taken from the empire things belonging to it, and from himself part of his inheritance. For himself, he always loved peace and wished the quietness of Christendom, and if he might have such a peace … his will was good, and he would be glad to have a peace … But he knew, if peace were made, the French King would no longer keep it with him than he thought it his best.

What the Emperor accounts reasonable they cannot tell, but it seems if reason be offered he is like enough to consent to peace. He bent all his talk to make them understand that he would not refuse any reasonable accord; and it would appear he could be well content that others were judges what should be thought reasonable, and not he himself to be judge. When about to take leave, and offering to kiss his hand, the Emperor cast his arm about Dudley’s neck, with great show of accepting his coming, of liking his message, and of allowing his behaviour in the doing thereof.

Dudley and Morrison noted that the chamber had been hung with tapestries depicting the emperor’s victories.

De Rie and others accompanied them home … They had scarcely arrived at home when Don Diego, who had called during their absence, returned to desire Dudley not to fail him to-morrow at dinner. De Rie promised by the way, that he would not leave Dudley so long as he could enjoy him, and when he could no more, his trust was they should meet one day again.

On taking his leave, Dudley alongside his resident colleagues, Morrison and Chamberlain, received “very gentle entertainment” from the Regent; Morrison was as sorry to stay as Dudley was “glad to be gone”.10 Back in England he delivered a gracious letter to King Edward from the emperor and elicited the close interest of the Imperial ambassador, de Schefye, who in his turn informed Charles V:

Sire: I received your Majesty’s letters of the 13th through Dudley, who arrived in this town on the 18th of the month and had audience of the King and my lords of the Council the following day, and came to see me the same afternoon. I congratulated him on his return, and he told me how he had left your Majesty at Brussels in good health, and that the King, his master, had rejoiced to hear it because of the singular affection he bore you. He declared that your Majesty had done him great honour, and bestowed a present on him. … He declared that he had perceived most clearly that your Majesty indeed loved the King, his master. I assured him such was the truth, and that your Majesty had always held him as his son, and proved it in the past, in contrast to the course adopted by certain others.

As we had entertained one another at some length with these professions of mutual love, … and never a word had he said about the letter from your Majesty to the King, or his negotiation, I made bold at last to question him if he had accomplished his mission to your Majesty. He replied that he had made his report to the King and my lords of the Council on what your Majesty had declared to him, and did not enlarge beyond this, which he did, in my opinion, rather to safeguard his reputation than for any other reason. Therefore I thought it well to say no more at the time and let the matter drop there. …

I can assure your Majesty that the Court and the town are full of the honours and welcome given to the said Dudley, and that all seem pleased about it, especially at the good understanding between their Majesties; and some go so far as to say that under colour of the said embassy a closer alliance may be about to be negotiated. The matter has given some umbrage to the French ambassador. To sum up, Sire, and reverting to the question of friendships, Dudley said to me that the friendship with France would never prove to be a real one, that the English had never thought much of the French, and he believed that if your Majesty wished to employ Englishmen, you would get a good number together. I replied that they had proved their zeal in your Majesty’s service, and after a few more words of no importance, Sire, he took his leave.11

See also:
Edward VI – The Wills of a King
1553: The Emperor and the Vanquished Duke of Northumberland

Notes
1 Knighton 1992 p. 283; Beer 1973 p. 139
2 Loades 1996 pp. 241 – 242
3 CSP Span 4 January 1553
4 Loades 1996 p. 242
5 Jordan 1970 pp. 174 – 175
6 Knighton 1992 p. 284
7 L&P XXI No. 444
8 Beer 1973 p. 140
9 Jordan 1970 p. 175
10 CSP Foreign 12 February 1553
11 CSP Span 21 February 1553

Sources
Calendar of State Papers, Spain. Volume 11 – 1553 (ed. Royall Tyler, 1916) http://www.britishhistory.ac.uk/source.aspx?pubid=973

Calendar of State Papers, Foreign http://www.british-history.ac.uk/catalogue.aspx?gid=124&type=3

Letters and Papers of Henry VIII. http://www.british-history.ac.uk/catalogue.aspx?gid=126

Beer, B. L. (1973): Northumberland: The Political Career of John Dudley, Earl of Warwick and Duke of Northumberland. The Kent State University Press.

Jordan, W. K. (1970): Edward VI: The Threshold of Power. The Dominance of the Duke of Northumberland. George Allen & Unwin.

Knighton, C. S. (1992) (ed.): Calendar of State Papers, Domestic Series, of the Reign of Edward VI, 1547–1553. Revised Edition. HMSO.

Loades, David (1996): John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland 1504–1553. Clarendon Press.

The Marriage of Mary Dudley

On 29 March 1551 Lady Mary Dudley married Henry Sidney, in private; on 17 May 1551 she married him once again, this time in public, at her parents’ house, Ely Place, London. Henry Sidney was 22 in 1551, and he is perhaps best known today as a close companion of Edward VI, who was eight years his junior and who died in his arms. The usual assumption is that the match between Mary and Henry Sidney was arranged by her father, John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, in order to strengthen his influence over the young king. However, this reading is all too simple and in some measure confuses cause and effect.

Mary Dudley in the early 1550s, perhaps around the time of her marriage

Mary Dudley in the early 1550s, perhaps around the time of her marriage

It is true that Henry Sidney’s father, Sir William, became chamberlain of Prince Edward’s household in 1538, and in 1544 advanced to the position of his steward;1 during these years Henry met the prince and, it is assumed, then and later shared lessons with him. On Edward’s accession in 1547, however, a new household was assembled, with no posts reserved for the Sidneys. It was not before John Dudley took over the government in early 1550 that Henry Sidney was appointed a gentleman of the privy chamber. And it was not before several months into his marriage with Dudley’s daughter that he became one of the “principal gentlemen” of King Edward (July 1551). As such he was one of six men charged with “the singular care” of the royal person, and at every hour three of them at a time were to be on duty in the king’s apartments.2

On 11 October 1551, Edward VI made Henry Sidney a knight; it was on the same day that his father-in-law was created a duke. Obviously it is following his marriage that Henry Sidney’s career really took off: his premier position in the privy chamber; his knighthood; the grant in 1552 of the Kentish manor of Penshurst to his father; his diplomatic mission to the French court in early 1553. His role as the Duke of Northumberland’s son-in-law also made him the close friend of this statesman (“I pray you keep this from my wife”, the duke was to instruct him on a harmless enough matter3).

So, how did Henry Sidney, son and heir of a courtier-gentleman and Knight of the Garter, gain the hand of the eldest daughter of England’s most powerful man? As the eldest daughter, Mary should have been a considerable marriage prize. We do not know how old she was in 1551, whether she was born before or after her brother, Robert, who was born in 1532 (or possibly 1533). It has been suggested that she was born between 1531 and 1535,4 but perhaps she was even the same age as her husband, born in 1529. Since her brother, John, was almost certainly born in late 1530, she may well have come before him, as the third child of her parents. Of course, one might wonder why, at twenty or over, she was not yet married or at least engaged. Whatever her age, there is some evidence that by the spring of 1551 she felt she should take matters into her own hands. It is quite possible that the marriage of Mary Dudley and Henry Sidney was a love match.5

In a 15th century psalter she used as a calendar for important family dates, like the birth dates of her seven children, Mary made an intriguing note:

The marriage of Sir Henry Sidney knight with the Lady Mary Dudley daughter of John, then Earl of Warwick and afterward Duke of Northumberland, was first at Asser the nine-and twenty day of March, in the year of our Lord one thousand, five hundred fifty, and one: and afterward most publicly and honourably solemnized in Ely Place, in Holborne.6

It was certainly not the norm to have two marriage ceremonies, the first of them at Esher, a stately enough place, but none that was related to her or her husband’s family. On the other hand, the description of the second ceremony as “most publicly and honourably solemnized” speaks for itself, and Ely Place in Holborn was then the principal London residence of the Dudleys. It would thus appear that after a secret marriage in March 1551 the young couple may have talked their elders into accepting the fact, which would have been made a lot easier for Sir William Sidney by his daughter-in-law’s high status and for the Earl of Warwick by his son-in-law’s friendship with King Edward.

Notes
1 MacCaffrey 2008
2 Jordan 1970 p. 20; Hoak 1976 p. 124; Alford 2002 p. 156
3 Beer 1973 p. 135
4 Adams 2008
5 Adams 2008
6 Brennan 2006 p. 22

Sources:
Adams, Simon (2008): ‟Sidney, Mary, Lady Sidney (1530×35–1586)“. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online edition.

Alford, Stephen (2002): Kingship and Politics in the Reign of Edward VI. Cambridge University Press.

Beer, B. L. (1973): Northumberland: The Political Career of John Dudley, Earl of Warwick and Duke of Northumberland. The Kent State University Press.

Brennan, Michael (2006): The Sidneys of Penshurst and the Monarchy, 1500-1700. Ashgate.

Hoak, Dale (1976): The King’s Council in the Reign of Edward VI. Cambridge University Press.

Hoak, Dale (2008): “Edward VI (1537–1553)”. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online edition.

Jordan, W. K. (1970): Edward VI: The Threshold of Power. The Dominance of the Duke of Northumberland. George Allen & Unwin.

MacCaffrey, Wallace (2008): “Sidney, Sir Henry (1529–1586)”. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online edition.

John Dudley’s Youth: In Kent, at Court, in France

Edmund Dudley’s decapitated body was buried in the precincts of the Blackfriars monastery in the west of the City of London. Fifteen months later, in November 1511, his widow remarried, on the king’s command; the lucky bridegroom was Arthur Plantagenet, Henry VIII’s uncle of illegitimate birth. He received a good share of Edmund Dudley’s confiscated lands, but did not succeed in becoming his stepchildren’s guardian, a circumstance which left him somewhat disgruntled.1 Instead Sir Edward Guildford petitioned for and received John Dudley’s wardship. At the same time, in February 1512, Edmund Dudley’s attainder was annulled by a parliamentary statute and his son was restored “in name and blood”. The king was hoping for the good services “which the said John Dudley is likely to do”.2

Henry Guildford, Edward's half-brother. His appearance gives an idea of 1520s court fashion.

Sir Henry Guildford, Sir Edward’s half-brother. His appearance gives an idea of 1520s court fashion.

The Guildfords had been loyal Tudor servants from the start and Sir Edward and his half-brother Sir Henry belonged to the circle of Henry VIII’s personal favourites. Now about seven years old, John Dudley would possibly have left his home to live in another family’s household, anyway; as it came, he moved to Kent to live with the Guildfords. We do not know how much he saw of his mother or his little brothers, Jerome and Andrew, in the ensuing years; we do not know where they grew up while Elizabeth Grey, now Plantagenet, bore her second husband three daughters who survived. She died, probably in childbirth, in 1525 or 1526.3

Sir Edward Guildford’s principal residence was at Halden in Kent. He married twice, and his two children were born of his first marriage: Richard, whose date of birth is unknown and who predeceased his father; and Jane, who would have been three years old when John Dudley was added to the household. The date of Guildford’s second marriage being unknown, it is possible that the Lady Guildford of 1512 was Richard’s and Jane’s stepmother. The children doubtless became John’s playmates and their schooling probably occurred at home under the direction of a private tutor. As his letters show, John Dudley became perfectly literate in English. In 1552, having received one of the youthful Edward VI’s drafts for reform, he complained that it was written “all in latin, I can but guess at it”, a remark which would support the assumption that he had no Latin. However, the truth is more complicated. On the one hand it was “polite convention” to underplay one’s capacities in this respect,4 and on the other he was quite capable to understand the meaning of Edward’s text, so he must have learnt his “grammar” as a youth and simply forgotten most of it.5

Sir Edward, in 1514, was appointed Master of the Tower Armouries and thus became responsible for the king’s personal body armour. Guildford organized jousts and tournaments, and served as marshal in many festivities held to impress foreign ambassadors.6 It seems likely that he introduced John to the court as a page during these years.7 John’s education was certainly that of a courtier and knight, comprising training with horses and weapons such as daggers, swords, and pikes. He soon would also have opportunity to brush up his French (which, conversing personally with Francis I and the future Henry II in later life, must have been excellent).

In May 1519 Edward Guildford was appointed Marshal of Calais, and it has been speculated that John Dudley, now about 15, went with his guardian to serve there at the garrison.8 Guildford was still at Calais in June 1520 when he was responsible for arranging the elaborate pavilions and lodgings for the Field of Cloth of Gold, where Henry VIII and Francis I met to celebrate their somewhat hollow friendship. In July 1520 Calais also saw the visit of the Emperor Charles V, Edward Guildford again being involved in the preparations.9 It is unknown if young John saw some glimpses of all this splendour, but quite possible.

A pavilion at the Field of Cloth of Gold, the kind of building Sir Edward Guildford was responsible for

A pavilion at the Field of Cloth of Gold, the kind of construction Sir Edward Guildford would have been responsible for at the festival

The next year, 1521, Sir Edward served as Constable of Dover Castle and became Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports. His ward John, whom he seems to have always preferred before his son Richard, meanwhile entered the entourage of Cardinal Wolsey on a mission to France. The Cardinal, who was wont to tour Europe with a huge following, was to help negotiate a peace between the French king and the emperor; nothing came of it, though. We next find John (once again?) at Calais, in his first ever command at the garrison. War between England and France had resumed, and, towards the end of 1522, he gained his first experiences of military action in skirmishes around Calais.10 He was 18 years old.

In August 1523 he got his first military post, again at Calais, as Lieutenant of the Spears. “As that position was in the gift of the Lord Deputy rather than the Marshall [Sir Edward Guildford], his advancement cannot be attributed to mere nepotism. He was a very promising young soldier.”11

A few weeks later he took part in the Duke of Suffolk’s campaign in France. This was meant to support the emperor and the Duke of Bourbon, who had recently switched sides and was now fighting against his master the King of France. However, Bourbon turned up at Marseille instead of in the Northwest of France, and the English army, about 11,000 men, soon got bogged down at the Somme. The October weather was terrible and many English soldiers succumbed to sickness. Nonetheless, towns and fortified places were taken in the revived cause of an English “empire” on French soil.12 The exploits of John Dudley’s guardian stood out:

Sir Edward Gyldford capitaine of the horsmen vewed the castle of Bowhen or Boghan, whiche euer was thought to be impregnable, but he iudged it might be wonne, for the castle was inuironed with Marryses [marshes], so that to no mans judgement it was possible to wynne it: But nowe he perceiued that the frost was so great and strong that it might be beseaged, & all that night it fresed againe: wherfore he desired the Duke to geue him leaue to assaute it whiche thereto agreed. Then he caused the ordinance to be set furth ouer the marrish. When they within the castle perceiued that the marrishe fayled theim, they were sore dismayed. Then sir Edward Guildeford shot thre great pieces at the castle, and the castilian shot thre pieces againe. Then as the Englishe gunners wer preparing to the battery, the capitain seyng his castle could not hold, by reason that the marishe failed, and that he could defende none assault, deliuered the castle to him to the behofe of the Emperor and the kyng of England, and after a small communicacion had betwene the sayd sir Edwarde Guyldforde and the capitaine, the capitaine with all his retinue departed leuyng behynd the ordinaunce of bombardes, curtawes, & demy curtaux, slinges, canons, volgers, and other ordinaunce, there were Ixxvi. pieces, plentie of pellettes & pouder.13

In early November the Duke of Suffolk in person made “Sir Edw. Semer” and “Sir John Dudlay” into knights,14 the first evidence of an often close relationship which would end in tragedy 30 years later. A friendship from boyhood was that between John Dudley and Thomas Wyatt, who was John’s exact contemporary. John was Edward Guildford’s ward, Thomas Henry Guildford’s protégé. Both the Wyatts and the Guildfords resided in Kent, and so did the antiquarian John Leland, who during the 1520s enjoyed John Dudley’s patronage.15 In 1527, when Sir John once again accompanied the Cardinal to Europe – as one of over 900 attendants – Leland composed a Latin poem for his friend Wyatt, who had remained in England; the piece was carried home by Dudley:

Dudley, about to arrange a journey from here to his native shores, advised that I should remember to present you, my familiar and old companion, with a greeting.16

John Dudley, by his 18th birthday, was firmly integrated into a Kentish network of intellectual friends; in July 1522 one of the group, writing from Louvain, desired “remembrance” to, among others, Dudley.17 By 1524 Sir John had also gained the king’s personal favour; he was now a Knight of the Body, which meant a lot of jousting and things like archery and wrestling, sports he still excelled in many years later.18

He was also about to become a married man. His intended bride was Jane Guildford, Sir Edward’s only daughter. Apparently this arrangement was agreed upon by Dudley’s mother and his guardian,19 probably many years before the consummation of the marriage. Since their first child, Henry, was born not later than 1525, the wedding may have occurred in 1524, perhaps after John’s return from campaigning in France. Jane would have been about 16, the perfect age to marry. She would form the opinion that her husband was “the most best gentleman that ever living woman was matched withal”.

continued from:
John Dudley’s Childhood, in London

Notes
1 Loades 2008
2 Loades 1996 p. 17 – 18
3 Grummitt 2008
4 Ives 2005 p. 45
5 Loades 1996 p. 203; Loades 2008
6 Lehmberg 2008
7 Loades 2008
8 Loades 1996 p. 20
9 Lehmberg 2008
10 Lehmberg 2008; Loades 2008
11 Loades 1996 p. 22
12 Loades 1996 pp. 21
13 Hall p. 671
14 L&P III No. 3516
15 Brigden 2012 pp. 80, 130
16 Brigden 2012 pp. 129, 130; Loades 1996 p. 24
17 Brigden 2012 pp. 89 – 90, 130; L&P III No. 2390
18 Loades 1996 p. 22; Ives 2009 p. 99
19 Loades 2008

Sources
Edward Hall: The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Families of Lancastre and Yorke. (1809 edition).

Letters and Papers of Henry VIII. http://www.british-history.ac.uk/catalogue.aspx?gid=126

Brigden, Susan (2012): Thomas Wyatt: The Heart’s Forest. Faber & Faber.

Grummitt, David (2008), “Plantagenet, Arthur, Viscount Lisle (b. before 1472, d. 1542)”. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online edition.

Gunn, S.J. (1999): ‟A Letter of Jane, Duchess of Northumberland, 1553“. English Historical Review. Vol. CXIV pp. 1267–1271.

Ives, Eric (2005): The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn: ‘The Most Happy’. Blackwell.

Ives, Eric (2009): Lady Jane Grey: A Tudor Mystery. Wiley-Blackwell.

Lehmberg, Stanford (2008): “Guildford, Sir Edward (c.1479–1534)”. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online edition.

Loades, David (1996): John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland 1504–1553. Clarendon Press.

Loades, David (2008): ‟Dudley, John, duke of Northumberland (1504–1553)“. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online edition.

Wilson, Derek (2005): The Uncrowned Kings of England: The Black History of the Dudleys and the Tudor Throne. Carroll & Graf.

John Dudley’s Childhood, in London

John Dudley was born between February 1504 and February 1505,1 probably in London, Candlewick Street. Apparently, he was named after his grandfather, Sir John Dudley of Atherington, himself a younger son of another John, the formidable first Baron of Dudley Castle who had always managed to be on the right side of the Wars of the Roses.

Baby John was the first child of Edmund Dudley, esquire, by his second wife, Elizabeth Grey. In 1505 Elizabeth was described as in her early twenties and she would have married Edmund around 1502/1503. She came from the nobility, her father being Edward Grey, 4th Viscount Lisle, and later in life she became Baroness Lisle in her own right as her brother’s co-heir. After John she bore her husband two more sons, Jerome and Andrew. From his father’s first marriage John had a half-sister, who in 1500 was described as “little Elizabeth Dudley”, indicating that she was still very young.2 She would have been something between five and eight years older than John.

In 1504 Edmund Dudley served as Speaker of the House of Commons and later in the year entered the council and counsels of King Henry VII. In 1506, when little John was about two, he was appointed President of the King’s Council. A brilliant lawyer, Edmund Dudley had worked for the City of London, including as under-sheriff, and in the king’s service he put his accumulated inside knowledge about the merchant class into practice: He and his colleague Sir Richard Empson became notorious collectors of fines and other “contributions”. The centre of Edmund’s activities was his house in Candlewick Street, positioned in the heart of London’s commercial hub, and especially its textile trade. Edmund Dudley, like Thomas Cromwell decades later, was not just an administrator but a draper or cloth trader as well.3 His first years John Dudley passed surrounded by beautiful fabrics.

John Dudley would have grown up in Italianate luxury, of which this detail by Carlo Crivelli may give some - exaggerated - impression

John Dudley would have grown up in Italianate luxury, of which this detail by Carlo Crivelli may give some – exaggerated – impression

The house stretched over 180 feet along the street, but as one Venetian visitor wrote, merchant houses “do not seem very large from the outside” but “they contain a great number of rooms … and are quite considerable”.4 It boasted a hall with a dais and a large old arras behind it, a “great parlour”, a “little parlour”, and, importantly, a “counting house in the little parlour”. There was a great chamber and many smaller chambers, an armoury, and “the long gallery leading to the garden”, “the low gallery by the garden”, as well as “the great gallery at the end of that”.5

When John Dudley was about three, his father obtained permission to build a private “current of water” to his house, leading off the public conduit at Cheapside. Such luxury was copied from Italian palazzi,6 and indeed one of the people most often seen in Candlewick Street would have been the Genoese banker Battista Grimaldi who collaborated intensely with Dudley.

The interior of the house was luxurious with “fine arras” on the walls, exquisite furniture, and glassware of “beyond sea making”.7 Like all parents, Edmund Dudley (writing his book, imprisoned in the Tower) was concerned that his children might be spoilt, growing up “among the women”: “Let not the feminine pity of your wives destroy your children, pamper them not at home in furred coats and their shirts to be warmed … Dandle them not too dearly lest folly fasten on them.”8

In fact, it was normal even for four-year-olds to be spanked by their doting mothers, and moral education started early. Four- and five-year-olds had to learn the Ten Commandments and the Lord’s Prayer by heart. In 1500 the Bible was still the basis of literacy, favourite passages being taken from the Book of Proverbs and Ecclesiasticus. These texts also served to instill good manners in the children.9

In the eyes of their contemporaries Empson and Dudley were “ravening wolves” who squeezed the last penny out of the poor rich and the unfortunate well-to-do. So there was great rejoicing when the two ministers, and some of their agents, were arrested in the early hours of 24 April 1509, three days after Henry VII’s death. To young John the events were unforgettable. In August royal commissioners descended on Candlewick Street to confiscate and inventorize the movables and papers of Edmund Dudley. How long John and his siblings were allowed to remain with their mother and how long they continued to live in Candlewick Street is unknown. In the Tower, his father could regain some hope when parliament did not pass his attainder despite his conviction for treason months earlier. He even dropped his plan to escape from the prison10 and turned to writing a book, The Tree of Commonwealth, a treatise on good government:

Its detailed prescriptions for the judicial system and its suspicion of noble self-assertion, mercantile chicanery, and popular idleness and disorder look very like those pursued by Henry VII’s regime. Reflections upon the previous reign and forebodings for the new meet in warnings against royal covetousness, fleshliness, warmongering, and indulgence in dangerous sports.11

That all collaborators of Empson and Dudley, even the most notorious, had meanwhile been released must have been comforting to Edmund and his family. Battista Grimaldi’s cousin now even served one of Catherine of Aragon’s Spanish ladies – after all the Grimaldi bank had processed the queen’s dowry. However, this very reinstatement of the Grimaldis caused a new outcry among the London merchants and probably contributed to Edmund Dudley’s end.12

In mid-August 1510, well over a year after their trial, Henry VIII ordered Sir Richard Empson and Edmund Dudley to be beheaded on Tower Hill. Dudley turned to writing his will. In it he mentioned his children; Andrew and Jerome were mere toddlers or infants in 1510, and Jerome he destined to the Church. Jerome Dudley appears next in the mid-1550s, in the wills of his sister-in-law and his brother. From these it is clear that, though not bed-ridden and capable of eating normally, he needed care. He was relatively helpless and probably mentally disabled; significantly he never had a household of his own, which a person of his station could otherwise have maintained even if suffering from a physical ailment.

Edmund Dudley had been one of the executors of Henry VII’s will and while awaiting his fate he drew up a list in which he detailed his actions for his late master; it was a catalogue of the persons Henry VII had wronged “contrary to his laws”, compiled at his request so that restitution could be made for the benefit of the king’s soul. Dudley admitted that people had been imprisoned for “light matters”, that inordinate fines had been levied, that some had had a “very hard end”, and that many proceedings had been “contrary to conscience”.13

That the ministers had operated under the close scrutiny and direction of Henry VII is apparent from the king’s own personal notes, including in Dudley’s account book.14 After Henry VIII had ascended the throne and summarily dealt with his father’s “enforcers” this became a moot point, however. It was only then that the most graphic stories were written down by Polydore Vergil and the London chroniclers, and they represented the point of view of what today would be called tax evaders, whether clerical (like the Bishop of London) or civic (like the City merchants); when they write of Empson’s and Dudley’s “poor” victims some skepticism is in order. John Dudley in later life took the view that his father, like he himself, had been a faithful servant to his master; this was true, and there was a tragic irony in it:

And, for my own part, if I should have passed more upon the speech of the people than upon the service of my master, or gone about to seek favour of them without respect to his Highness’ surety, I needed not to have had so much obloquy of some kind of men; but the living God, that knoweth the hearts of all men, shall be my judge at the last day with what zeal, faith, and truth I serve my master. And though my poor father, who, after his master was gone, suffered death for doing his master’s commandments, who was the wisest prince of the world living in those days, and yet could not his commandment be my father’s charge after he was departed this life; so, for my part, with all earnestness and duty I will serve without fear, seeking nothing but the true glory of God and his Highness’ surety: so shall I most please God and have my conscience upright, and then not fear what man doth to me.15

See also:
John Dudley’s Youth: in Kent, at Court, in France

Notes
1 Loades 1996 p. 8
2 Loades 1996 pp. 7 – 8
3 Penn 2012 p. 266; Loades 2013 p. 23
4 Penn 2012 p. 266
5 L&P 17 August 1509 No. 146
6 Penn 2012 p. 314
7 Penn 2012 p. 266
8 Brigden 2001 p. 56
9 Brigden 2001 p. 56; Smith 2013 pp. 27 – 28
10 Loades 1996 p. 11
11 Gunn 2010
12 Penn 2012 p. 373
13 Brigden 2001 p. 37
14 Brigden 2001 p. 36; Penn 2012 p. 262
15 Tytler 1839 p. 150

Sources
Letters and Papers of Henry VIII. http://www.british-history.ac.uk/catalogue.aspx?gid=126

Brigden, Susan (2001): New Worlds, Lost Worlds: The Rule of the Tudors 1485-1603. Penguin.

Gunn, S.J. (2010): “Dudley, Edmund (c.1462–1510)”. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online edition.

Loades, David (1996): John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland 1504–1553. Clarendon Press.

Loades, David (2013): Thomas Cromwell: Servant to Henry VIII. Amberley.

Penn, Thomas (2012): Winter King: The Dawn of Tudor England. Penguin.

Smith, L. B. (2013): Anne Boleyn: Queen of Controversy. Amberley.

Tytler, P. F. (1839): England under the Reigns of Edward VI. and Mary. Volume II. Richard Bentley.

Wilson, Derek (2005): The Uncrowned Kings of England: The Black History of the Dudleys and the Tudor Throne. Carroll & Graf.

Plotting the Demise of Mary Queen of Scots in 1572

It is often said that Robert Dudley supported his brother-in-law, Henry Hastings, 3rd Earl of Huntingdon, in the Elizabethan succession question. There is not much substance to this, however, and from early in Elizabeth’s reign his favourite candidate was clearly Mary Stuart, the Catholic Queen of Scotland. She was also Elizabeth’s own preference, which is probably reflected in Dudley’s choice. In the early 1560s, Dudley was also on the best terms with William Maitland, Mary’s principal secretary, and other Protestant lords in Scotland, supporting the English or, as he saw it, the Protestant interest.1

Mary Stuart, 1570s

Mary Stuart, 1570s

In 1563 Elizabeth suggested Robert Dudley as a consort to the widowed Mary; Lord Robert, becoming Earl of Leicester in the process, was horrified and Mary was not thrilled either, and finally Elizabeth herself changed her mind. Five years later, after two disastrous marriages to other candidates, Mary Stuart fled to England. – Henceforth the English political scene became dominated by an unending series of plots, real and imagined, to place Mary on the throne instead of the Protestant “bastard” Elizabeth. The immediate question in 1568 and 1569 was what to do with Mary, now in Elizabeth’s custody. Unlike Cecil, Leicester was in favour of restoring her as Scottish queen under English control, preferably with a Protestant English husband – as long as he himself was not the intended bridegroom (as had been suggested).2

In a letter from late 1569 Robert Dudley detailed his opinion to the Earl of Sussex, then President of the Council of the North at York. The basic question was whether to support Mary or the young James VI with his regent, the Earl of Mar. Leicester conceded that it was in the Protestant interest to assist the regency government, but: “I must confess myself to your lordship to be on the opposite side.” Support for the Lords would mean war, and war in Scotland would result in war with France or even Spain, and for that Elizabeth simply had no resources, “surely my Lord, I cannot see it.” Of course, one could not trust the Queen of Scots’ word, but, on her restoration, she might be forced to surrender some Scottish towns and be held in check with losing her rights to the English succession if she reneged on her promises: “There, I would think, would be sufficient bonds to bind any Prince, specially no mightier than she is.”3 – “For there is danger from delivering of her to her Government, so is there danger in retaining her in prison”.4

Then, on 23 August 1572, a terrible massacre of Protestants occurred in Paris and changed the scene once again. The outcry at this “St. Bartholomew’s Night” was immense. Edwin Sandys, Bishop of London, demanded “forthwith to cutt off the Scottish Queen’s head”, and Robert Beale, the privy council’s clerk, counselled “death to the Jezebel”!5 These were just two of many similar opinions, set out in uncalled-for written expertises. Something had to be done about the Queen of Scots, who in recent years had continued to plot, with the Duke of Norfolk and the banker Ridolfi.

Parliament, meanwhile, in 1571 and 1572, had also clamoured for Mary’s execution, but Elizabeth had resisted this sort of pressure; she now sought another way out. About a fortnight after the St. Bartholomew Massacre, Sir Henry Killigrew, then on a mission in France, was recalled and received instructions to travel to Scotland and deal with the regency government:

You ar … secretly to informe some … of the late horrible, universal Murder in France, thereuppon to move them … that the lyke be not ther attempted.

It is found dayly more and more that the Contynuance of the Quene of Scotts here is so dangerooss, both for the Person of the Quene’s majestie and for her State and our Realme as nothyng presently is necessary than that the Realme might be delivered of hir; and though by Justice this might be done in this Realme, yet for certen respects it seemeth better that she be sent into Scotland to be delyvered to the Regent and his Party, so as it may be by some good Meanes wrought, that they themselves wold secretly require it and that good Assurance may be gyven, that as they have hereto fore many Tymes … so they wold without fayle proceed with hir by wey of Justice.6

The idea was that the Scottish government would ask for Mary to be sent to Scotland so that they could try and execute her for the murder of Lord Darnley (her second husband and the father of James VI). Biographers of Mary Stuart and Elizabeth I have usually ignored this particular episode in Anglo-Scottish relations; others, like John Guy, have ignored Elizabeth’s involvement in it.7 This was just the impression Elizabeth wanted to create, as Killigrew told his patrons, Cecil and Leicester: “Great charge her majesty gave me at my coming hither, saying that no more was privy to this matter but your honours, and I, that if it came forth the blame should fall thereafter.”8

Killigrew soon sent another missive to Leicester and Cecil in which he reported on his progress and that he would meet the Regent and his party at Leith, where they would “break their minds to me secretly”. He had also achieved that “this great matter” would be “moved by them and not by myself”.9

Cecil and Leicester, back in London, were waiting impatiently:

We two have received your several letters … and we do greatly long to receive from you a further motion with some earnestness, … as we may look for assurance to have it take effect; …

Wherefore we earnestly require you to employ all your labours to procure that it may be both earnestly and speedily followed there, and yet also secretly, as the cause requireth: and when we think of the matter, as daily, yea hourly, we have cause to do … we suspend all our actions only for this, and therefore you can do no greater service than to use speed.

The next step was a conference in the Earl of Morton’s bedchamber, with the earl himself, the Regent Mar, and Killigrew the only persons present. Both noblemen were “willing to do the thing you most desire”, however their lordships could as yet not make up their minds, although both “thought it the best way to end all the troubles, as it were in both realms.” As it turned out, the two lords did not want it to be done without “some manner of ceremony, and a kind of process” which would require an assembly of the Scottish nobility ”after a secret manner”, and “would ask some time”. They also demanded that Elizabeth send troops in order to hold back disaffected elements who might come to Mary’s rescue. Morton and Mar were confident, though, that once they succeeded in getting the Scottish Lords’ consent, “they will not keep the prisoner three hours alive after she come into the bounds of Scotland.”

In further dispatches to Leicester and Cecil, Killigrew informed them how “very hot and earnestly bent” the Earl of Morton was “in the matter”, and how the Earl of Mar had “sent his resolute mind unto my Lord Morton, insomuch that he desired me to write speedily unto both your honours to further the same by all the good means you might, as the best, and as it were, the only salve for the cure of the great sores of this commonwealth.”

Mar and Morton handed their written conditions to Killigrew, an important point in which was that the English Parliament should guarantee James VI’s title to the English throne, notwithstanding any proceedings against his mother. Another demand was that the Earls of Huntingdon, Bedford, and Essex witness Mary’s execution, bringing some 3,000 English troops with them.10

Alas, Killigrew now also had to write that the Regent Mar was gravely ill and not expected to live. As it turned out, the Scottish earl died on the very day Killigrew sent his letter with the Scottish demands. On 3rd November 1572 William Cecil, Lord Burghley, informed Leicester that their scheme had died as well:

My lord – This bearer came to me an hour and a half after your departure. The letters which he brought me are here included. … This way that was meant for dealing with Scotland is, you may see, neither now possible, nor was by their articles made reasonable.

If her majesty will continue her delays for providing for her own surety by just means given her by God, she and we all shall vainly call upon God when the calamity shall fall upon us. God send her majesty strength of spirit to preserve God’s cause, her own life, and the lives of millions of good subjects, all which are most manifestly in danger, and that only by her delays; and so, consequently, she shall be the cause of the overthrow of a noble Crown and realm, which shall be a prey to all that can invade it. God be merciful to us.11

As for Leicester, in his 1569 letter to the Earl of Sussex, he had sensed the moral dilemma the coming years would put him into:

In wordly causes men must be governed by wordly policies, and yet so frame them as God, the author of all, be chiefly regarded. And though in some points I shall deal like a wordly man for my Prince yet I hope I shall not forget that I am a Christian, nor my duty to God.12

Notes
1 Adams 2002 pp. 104, 107, 137 – 138, 141
2 Jenkins 2002 pp. 159 – 160, 168 – 169; Adams 2002 p. 18
3 Jenkins 2002 pp. 168 – 169
4 Chamberlin 1939 p. 187
5 Whitelock 2013 pp. 145 – 146
6 Chamberlin 1939 p. 194
7 Guy 2009 p. 470
8 Chamberlin 1939 p. 195
9 Chamberlin 1939 p. 195
10 Chamberlin 1939 pp. 196 – 197
11 Chamberlin 1939 p. 198
12 Jenkins 2002 p. 169

Sources
Adams, Simon (2002): Leicester and the Court: Essays in Elizabethan Politics. Manchester University Press.

Adams, Simon (2008): ‟Dudley, Robert, earl of Leicester (1532/3–1588)“. Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online edition.

Chamberlin, Frederick (1939): Elizabeth and Leycester. Dodd, Mead & Co.

Guy, John (2009): My Heart is My Own: The Life of Mary Queen of Scots. Fourth Estate.

Jenkins, Elizabeth (2002): Elizabeth and Leicester. The Phoenix Press.

Whitelock, Anna (2013): Elizabeth’s Bedfellows: An Intimate History of the Queen’s Court. Bloomsbury.

Acquitted, Delivered, Discharged

In November 1579, on a Tuesday afternoon, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, wrote one of his most personal letters; addressed to William Cecil, Lord Burghley, it speaks about his relationship with the queen like no other. A couple of months before, Elizabeth had been told that the Earl of Leicester had secretly remarried, after 18 years as a widower. Her reaction had been fury and despair, coupled with an intensified wooing of Francois Duke of Anjou, the French royal prince whom she called her “frog”. Leicester was seriously against this foreign match with the heir to the French throne, while Burghley favoured it. Implicitly equating Leicester’s former role with Anjou’s future one, he reminded Elizabeth that (as he hoped) with her favourite out of the way, who was there to share the pleasures of life with? Who was there “that your majesty may love and esteem above the rest? Or lives the man and speaks he English that you highly esteem and love at this day?”1

Although Elizabeth had sought Leicester’s solace and advice only days after being told the “news” of his marriage,2 by the autumn of 1579 he was still very much in disgrace – for his political stance against the Anjou marriage as much as for having wedded the queen’s cousin Lettice Knollys. And Elizabeth had developed a habit of delivering foul speeches about him in public:

My lord, I have desired my Lord of Pembroke to excuse me to you, and to pray your lordship to helpe to excuse my not coming this day. I perceave by my brother of Warwyke your lordship hath found the like bitterness in her Majesty toward me that others (too many) have acquainted me lately withall. I must confess it greveth me not a lyttle, having so faythfully, carefully, and chargeably served her Majesty this twenty yeres, as I have done. Your Lordship is witness, I trust, that in all her services I have bene a direct servant unto her, her state, and crown, that I have not more sought myne owne particular proffyt than her honor.

This last point has been called into question by writers hostile to Dudley who then typically go into listing all the material benefits Leicester received from the crown over the years, entirely missing the point he is making about his personal sacrifice:

Her Majesty, I see, is grown into a very strange humour all things considered toward me, howsoever it were trew or false as she is informed, the state whereof I will not dyspute. Albeit I cannot confess a greater bondage in those cases than my dewty of allegiance oweth, your lordship hath bene best acquainted next myself to all my proceedings with her Majesty and I have ere now broken my very hart with you, and have offered for avoyding of such blame as I have generally in the realme, myne own exyle, that I might not be suspected a hinderer of that matter, which all the world desired and were sutors for.

Here Leicester, after alluding to his marriage, is speaking of the French match and his own unpopularity caused by his resistance to it. He indeed considered exile (in Germany) in case that Elizabeth should marry the Duke of Anjou, convinced there would no longer be a place for him at the English court once the queen was married.3 Given his closeness, including his physical closeness, to her this is not a surprise; even though Henry III of France himself had assured him in a letter that he had nothing to fear should Anjou become King of England and that his career should prosper.4 Robert Dudley was not prepared to take chances. And he thought it necessary to clarify things to Burghley: that he was not bound to Elizabeth by anything else than his oath of allegiance (such as a secret engagement). His words are somewhat contradictory in places, but William Cecil, while not Leicester’s greatest friend was his oldest correspondent, and he would have been the one to guess the earl’s true meaning. (Did Leicester say the contrary of what he was writing?)

I ever had a very honourable mynd in all my actions as neare as my capacity might dyrect me (and with modesty be it spoken) toward her servyce in my pore calling. Even so was it never abased in any slavish manner, to be tyed in more than unequall and unreasonable bonds. And as I caryed myself almost more than a bondman many a yere together, so long as one dropp of comfort was left of any hope, as you yourself my lord doth well know, so being acquitted and delyvered of that hope and by both open and pryvate protestations and declarations dyscharged, methinks it is more than hard to take such an occasion to beare so great dyspleasure for. But the old proverbe saythe, they that wyll beat a dogge shall want no weapon.

This is a farr fetched matter to pyck to me. The cause is some other, I must suppose, or ells my lyfe is very wretched and unhappie. But why do I trouble your lordship with this matter? I meant only to thank you for that you have done, and to friend me as in truth I shall be found to deserve. For her manner toward me, I may not find lacke, I know what I have bene and am to her in all humble dewty. She may perhaps forthink her benefitts bestowed. So may I say, I have lost both youth, liberty and all my fortune reposed in her; and my Lord by that tyme I have made an even reckoning with the world your lordship wyll not give me much for the remainder of my twenty yeres’ service; but I trust styll she that hath been so gracious to all wyll not only be grievous to me.

Notes
1 Gristwood 2007 p. 276
2 CSP Span II p. 682
3 Jenkins 2002 pp. 247, 269
4 Jenkins 2002 p. 241

Sources
Calendar of … State Papers Relating to English Affairs … in … Simancas, 1558–1603. (ed. by Martin Hume, 1892–1899).

Adams, Simon (2002): Leicester and the Court: Essays in Elizabethan Politics. Manchester University Press.

Gristwood, Sarah (2007): Elizabeth and Leicester: Power, Passion, Politics. Viking.

Jenkins, Elizabeth (2002): Elizabeth and Leicester. The Phoenix Press.

Wright, Thomas (1838) (ed.): Queen Elizabeth and Her Times: A Series of Original Letters. Volume II. Henry Colburn.