From Abbeys, Castles and Ancient Halls of England and Wales, Their Legendary Lore and Popular History, by John Timbs, re-edited, revised, and enlarged by Alexander Gunn, Volume II.; Frederick Warne and Co.; London; pp. 59-63.
Cumnor, about three miles west of Oxford, has an old manor house, which formerly belonged to the Abbots of Abingdon, but after the Reformation was granted to the last Abbot for life, and on his death came into the possession of Anthony Forster, whose epitaph in Cumnor Church speaks of him as an amiable and accomplished person. But, in Ashmole’s Antiquites of Berkshire, he is represented as one of the parties of the murder of Anne Dudley, under very mysterious circumstances. This unfortunate lady, who became the first wife of Lord Robert Dudley, Queen Elizabeth’s favourite, was the daughter of Sir John Robsart. Her marriage took place June 4, 1550; and the event is thus recorded by King Edward in his Diary: “S. Robert dudeley, third sonne to th’ erle of warwic, married S. John Robsarte’s daughter, after whose marriage there were certain gentlemen that did strive who should take away a gose’s heade, which was hanged alive on tow crose postes.” Soon after the accession of Elizabeth, when Dudley’s ambitious views of a royal alliance had opened upon him, his wife mysteriously died; and Ashmole thus relates the melancholy story : —
“Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, a very goodly personage, and singularly well featured, being a great favourite to Queen Elizabeth, it was thought, and commonly reported, that had he been a bachelor, or widower, the Queen would have made him her husband: to this end, to free himself of all obstacles, he commands his wife, or perhaps with fair flattering entreaties, desires her to repose herself here at his servant Anthony Forster’s house, who then lived at the aforesaid Manor-house (Cumnor-place); and also prescribed to Sir Richard Varney (a prompter to this design), at his coming hither, that he should first attempt to poison her, and if that did not take effect, then by any other way whatsoever to despatch her. This, it seems, was proved by the report of Dr. Walter Bayly, sometime Fellow of New College, then living in Oxford, and Professor of Physic in that University, who, because he could not consent to take away her life by poison, the earl endeavoured to displace him from the Court. This man, its seems, reported for most certain that there was a practice in Cumnor among the conspirators to have poisoned this poor innocent lady, a little before she was killed, which was attempted after this manner: — They seeing the good lady sad and heavy (as one well knew by her other handling that her death was not far off), began to persuade her that her present disease was abundance of melancholy, and other humours, &c. And therefore 60 would needs counsel her to take some potion, which she absolutely refusing to do, as still suspecting the worst: whereupon they sent a messenger on a day (unawares to her) for Dr. Bayly, and entreated him to persuade her to take some little potion by his direction, and they would get the same at Oxford, meaning to have added something of their own for her comfort, as the Doctor, upon just cause and consideration did suspect, seeing their great importunity, and the small need the lady had of physic; and therefore he peremptorily denied their request, misdoubting (as he afterwards reported) lest if they had poisoned her under the name of his potion, he might have been hanged for a colour of their sin; and the Doctor remained still well assured, that this way taking no effect, she would not long escape their violence, which afterwards happened thus: — For Sir Richard Varney aforesaid (the chief projector in this design), who by the earl’s order remained that day of death alone with her, with one man only, and Forster, who had that day forcibly sent away all her servants from her to Abingdon market, about three miles distant from this place, they, I say, whether first stifling her or else strangling her, afterwards flung her down a pair of stairs and broke her neck, using much violence upon her; but yet, however, though it was vulgarly reported that she by chance fell down stairs, but yet without hurting her hood that was upon her head. Yet the inhabitants will tell you there that she was conveyed from her usual chamber where she lay to another, where the bed’s head of the chamber stood close to a privy postern door, where they in the night came and stifled her in her bed, bruised her head very much, broke her neck, and at length flung her downstairs, thereby believing the world would have thought it a mischance, and so have blinded their villainy. But, behold the mercy and justice of God in revenging and discovering this lady’s murder; for one of the persons that was a coadjutor in this murder was afterwards taken for a felony in the marches of Wales, and offering to publish the manner of the aforesaid murder, was privately made away with in prison by the earl’s appointment. And Sir Richard Varney, the other, dying about the same time in London, cried miserably and blasphemed God, and said to a person of note (who has related the same to others since) not long before his death, that all the devils in hell did tear him in pieces. Forster, likewise, after this fact, being a man formerly addicted to hospitality, company, mirth and music, was afterwards observed to forsake all this, and being affected with much melancholy (some say with madness) pined and drooped away. The wife, too, of Bald Butler, kinsman to the earl, gave out the whole fact a little before her death. Neither are the following passages to be 61 forgotten: — That as soon as ever she was murdered, they made great haste to bury her before the coroner had given in his inquest (which the earl himself condemned as not done advisedly), which her father, Sir John Robertsett (as I suppose) hearing of, came with all speed hither, caused her corpse to be taken up, the coroner to sit upon her, and further inquiry to be made concerning this business to the full; but it was generally thought that the earl stopped his mouth, and made up the business betwixt them; and the good earl, to make plain to the world the great love he bore to her while alive — what a grief the loss of so virtuous a lady was to his tender heart — caused (though the thing by these and other means was beaten into the heads of the principal men of the University of Oxford) her body to be re-buried in St. Mary’s Church in Oxford, with great pomp and solemnity. It is remarkable when Dr. Babington, the earl’s chaplain, did preach the funeral sermon, he tript once or twice in his speech by recommending to their memories that virtuous lady so pitifully murdered, instead of saying pitifully slain.”
We need scarcely add that these circumstances, with considerable anachronisms, have been woven by Sir Walter Scott into his delightful romance of Kenilworth. “Of the gose and poste” this explanation has been given: the gose was intended for poor Amy, and the crosse posts for the Protector Somerset and his rival, Dudley Duke of Northumberland, both of whom were bred to the wicked trade of ambition. Dudley, did not, however, escape suspicion. The lady and gentleman were so fully assured of the evil treatment of the lady, that they sought to get an inquiry made into the circumstances. We also find Burghley, presenting, among the reasons why it was inexpedient for the queen to marry Leicester, “that he is infamed by the murder of his wife.” Mr. Froude, in his History of England, gives the following summary of the proceedings taken to inquire into the cause of the lady’s sad fate.
“In deference to the general outcry, either the inquiry was portracted, or a second jury, as Dudley suggested was chosen. Lord Robert himself was profoundly anxious, although his anxiety may have been as much for his own reputation as for the discovery of the truth. Yet the exertions to unravel the mystery still failed of their effect. No one could be found who had seen Lady Dudley fall, and she was dead when she was discovered. Eventually, after an investigation apparently without precedent for the strictness with which it had been conducted, the jury returned a verdict of accidental death; and Lord Robert was thus formally acquitted. Yet the conclusion was evidently of a kind which would not silence suspicion; it was not proved that Lady Dudley had been murdered; 62 but the cause of the death was still left to conjecture; and were there nothing more — were Cecil’s words to De Quadra proved to be a forgery — a cloud would still rest over Dudley’s fame. Cecil might well have written of him as he did in later years, that he ‘was infamed by his wife’s death;’ and the shadow which hung over his name in the popular belief would be intelligible even if it was undeserved. A paper remains, however, among Cecil’s MSS., which proves that Dudley was less zealous for inquiry than he seemed; that his unhappy wife was indeed murdered; and that with proper exertion the guilty persons might have been discovered. That there should be a universal impression that a particular person was about to be made away with, that this person should die in a mysterious violent manner, and yet that there should have been no foul play after all, would have been a combination of coincidences which would not easily find credence in a well-constituted court of justice. The strongest point in Dudley’s favour was that he sent his wife’s half-brother, John Appleyard, to the inquest. Appleyard, some years after, in a fit of irritation, ‘let fall words of anger, and said that for Dudley’s sake he had covered the murder of his sister.’ Being examined by Cecil, he admitted that the investigation at Cumnor had, after all, been inadequately conducted. He said ‘that he had oftentimes moved the Lord Robert to give him leave, and to countenance him in the prosecuting of the trial of the murder of his sister — adding that he did take the Lord Robert to be innocent thereof; but yet he thought it an easy matter to find out the offenders — affirming thereunto, and showing certain circumstances which moved him to think surely that she was murdered — whereunto he said that the Lord Robert always assured him that he thought it was not fit to deal any further in the matter, considering that by order of law it was already found otherwise, and that it was so presented by a jury. Nevertheless the said Appleyard in his speech said upon examination, that the jury had not as yet given up their verdict.’ If Appleyard spoke the truth, there is no more to be said. The conclusion seems inevitable, that, although Dudley was innocent of a direct participation in the crime, the unhappy lady was sacrificed to his ambition. She was murdered by persons who hoped to profit by his elevation to the throne; and Dudley himself — aware that if the murder could be proved public feeling would forbid his marriage with the Queen — used private means, notwithstanding his affectation of sincerity, to prevent the search from being pressed inconveniently far. But seven years had passed before Appleyard spoke, while the world in the interval was silenced by the verdict; and those 63 who wished to be convinced perhaps believed Dudley innocent. It is necessary to remember this to understand the conduct of Cecil.”