By the Rev. Canon J. E. Jackson, F.8.A. 51 
was written, it was said, by Father Parsons, the Jesuit: at least if 
not by himself, by himself and company. It was circulated only in 
MS. for many years, but upon being printed in 1584, four years 
before Dudley’s death, was publicly proclaimed by the Privy Council 
to be an infamous and scandalous libel. . Such (to trace things to 
their source) is the authority on which “ Kenilworth” is founded. 
To recapitulate, for a moment or two, the outlines of the novel. 
Dudley, having married Amye Rebsart early in life, afterwards finds 
the marriage inconvenient, so puts her away under vigilant and 
designing villains, Tony Foster and Varney, who understood that 
they were to get rid of her somehow. But, says this most veracious 
historical novel, after she became “ Countess of Leicester,” hearing 
of Queen Elizabeth’s visit to Kenilworth Castle, and the splendid 
entertainment going on there, all significant of Dudley’s future 
nuptials with the Queen, the “ Countess of Leicester ”’ escapes from 
Cumnor, arrives in a sort of disguise at Kenilworth Castle, and 
has a touching interview with the Queen, who falls into a furious 
passion upon finding that the Earl of Leicester was married. It is 
not worth while to go into detail, but Amye is persuaded by Leicester 
to return to Cumnor, he promising to come and see her as soon as 
the Revels are over. So to Cumnor poor Amye returns, attended 
by the two villains, who presently dispose of her in the horrible 
manner with which the tale concludes. She is shut up in an isolated 
tower, which is approached only by a narrow drawbridge. Midway 
in the floor of the drawbridge is a trap-door, so contrived that the 
first person who should step upon it would be precipitated into what 
the novelist describes as a “sable gulph, an abyss dark as pitch and 
profoundly deep.” After a certain time the villain Varney, pre- 
tending to arrive as the expected husband, rides into the court-yard, 
dismounts, gives the husband’s peculiar call—a whistle—Amye 
rushes out, steps on the trap-door—and all is over. ‘ Look down 
into the vault,” says Varney to Foster, “what seest thou?” “I 
see only a heap of white clothes, like a snow-drift,” said Foster, 
“Oh God! she moves her arm!” “ Hurl something down upon 
her. Thy gold chest, Tony, it is a heavy one.” 
A more thrilling narrative never was penned. Founded upon this 
E2 
