THE daughter of Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, who was first cousin to Queen Elizabeth his mother being Mary Boleyn. Nor did ‘her Grace disdain to call him cousin,’ and her visit to Hunsdon House is immortalised in a painting (engraved) by Mark Gerrard, where she is carried in procession. The picture contains many portraits, including Lord and Lady Hunsdon, and Catherine, their daughter, the subject of this notice.
Grainger, speaking of Lord Hunsdon in his usually quaint manner, tells us ‘he was of a soldierly disposition, and a great seller of bargains to the maids of honour,’ and the Queen esteemed him much, and offered to create him an Earl on his deathbed, which somewhat tardy dignity he refused.
Catherine married the gallant Charles Howard, Lord High Admiral of England, whose name is invariably connected with the glorious defeat of the Spanish Armada. He was first created Baron of Effingham, and afterwards Earl of Nottingham; and it was to his wife that the unfortunate Essex intrusted the ring which Elizabeth had given him in the height of his favour, with the promise that whatever crime he should commit, she would pardon, provided he returned the pledge.
The story connected with this ring has been so often and so variously told, so many times asserted and disbelieved, that we might be tempted to let the subject pass in silence were it not for the fact that the actual relic is in the possession of Lord John Thynne, uncle of the present Marquis of Bath, (1879,) and therefore claims a comment in these pages. We subjoin what appears to us the most authentic account:—
Not very long before the death of Queen Elizabeth, she being then in failing health, and much depressed in mind, after the execution of her favourite, Her Majesty received a message from the Countess of Nottingham (one of the ladies of her household, and a connection of her own), to say that she lay a-dying, but that she had something on her mind which she would fain impart to the Queen before her death. Elizabeth lost no time in repairing to the house of the Earl of Nottingham, and taking her place by the sufferer’s bedside, listened to the following confession. When Lord Essex lay under sentence of death, he bethought himself of the Queen’s present, and the promise which accompanied it, and he began to devise means how to send it to his royal mistress. He dared not trust any one near him, but watching from the window, he perceived a boy, whose appearance inspired him with confidence. He contrived to get speech of him, and induced him, by means of money and promises, to be the bearer of the ring, which he drew from his finger and intrusted to him. The Earl’s injunctions were that it should be carried to his friend Lady Scrope, (one of the royal household, and sister to the Lady Nottingham,) with the earnest request that she would present it to the Queen.
The boy, by some unfortunate mistake, carried the ring to the Countess of Nottingham, who immediately consulted her husband on the subject. It is further said (although it may appear inconsistent with the character of the gallant sailor for generosity) that he peremptorily forbade his wife to undertake the mission, or to interfere in the matter. Yet we are also told that on the downfall of Essex, Lord Nottingham evinced the greatest friendship for the man with whom he had once been at enmity, visiting him in prison, and the like. Certain it is that the lady whose conscience was so ill at rest, screened herself under the prohibition of her husband, who, she added, insisted on her keeping the ring, and returning no answer to the unfortunate captive. The secret being divulged, the dying woman entreated the Queen to pardon her. The answer she gave is well known: ‘God may forgive you, but I never can;’ and she left the room in a fury.
Strange, if she believed that Lord Nottingham was in fault, that Her Majesty should not only forgive him, but keep him constantly in her presence, in her last days, (for she did not survive this scene above a fortnight,) talking with him on matters of the greatest importance, and sometimes accepting nourishment and medicine from his hand, which she would refuse from that of others.
Lady Nottingham died soon after the stormy interview with the Queen, having borne two sons and three daughters to her husband. It would appear that the cause of the doubt and perplexity which have been thrown over the romantic story of the Essex ring, can be accounted for in this manner: The fact is there were two historical rings, and the Carey family were connected with both, as also, to make the confusion more complete, the name of Lady Scrope, born Carey, is mixed up with both.
When Queen Elizabeth was dying, Robert Carey, Earl of Monmouth, was stationed on horseback under the window, and no sooner was the Queen’s last breath expended, than a lady (said to be Lady Scrope) threw a ring from the window, with which Monmouth rode post-haste to Scotland, it being a pledge agreed upon between King James and a member of Elizabeth’s Court, to inform him, betimes, of the death of the English Queen. This ring is a sapphire, and in the possession of the Earl of Cork and Orrery, to whom it descended by inheritance.
Two rings, both secret pledges, and with both of which the names of Queen Elizabeth and Lady Scrope are connected, it no longer appears strange that confusion and perplexity should have arisen on the subject. The ring in the possession of Lord John Thynne has a gold hoop of delicate workmanship engraved, and relieved with blue enamel. The centre is an onyx, with a cameo head of Queen Elizabeth, a perfect likeness, in relief, and is surmised to have been the work of Valerio Vincentino, an Italian artist of great merit, who executed several works of the kind, for the Queen, Lord Burghley, and others. There is no record to inform us how this ring returned into the possession of the Devereux family. But it seems more than likely that Lady Nottingham, or her husband, may have bequeathed or restored it to the rightful owners. It descended to the present possessor in unbroken succession from the Duchess of Somerset, Frances Devereux, Essex’s daughter, who was grandmother to the first Lady Weymouth.