Henrietta Maria

es must bea

happines

a is not s

om hath f

am Ha

not an easy man to live with, as all those who had much to do with him found out. He was moral, conscientious, in many respects admirable; but he was oppressed by a sense of his own importance, he was entirely without humour, and he was convinced that he was always

repose in London. How could the English know that these relics of a glorious past were in the eyes of these visitors, accustomed to the new-fashioned luxuries of the French Court, nothing but relics of barbarism? "None of us, however old, could remember ever having seen such a bed," wrote Tillières,[29] in deep indignation. Nor was the public welcome to London more successful, though the marriage was fairly popular, and there was much kindly feeling towards the bride. The plague was raging in the city, so that, for prudence'sake, festivities had to be curtailed; while, to make matters worse, the entry into the capital took place on one of those drenching summer days which are not of infrequent occurrence in these islands. To the French visitors used to Paris, which, if one of the dirtiest of cities, was, then as now, one of the most beautiful and magnificent, London, at the best, would have looked rather shabby,[30] in these circumstances it appeared ugly and squalid. The English were little more pleased with t

ladies as Madame S. Georges, the principal lady-in-waiting, and the Count de Tillières, the lord chamberlain, to the humble servants of the royal kitchen and laundry. Certainly the presence of so many of her own countrymen about the person of the young Queen tended to prevent that assimilation of En

xperience in Courts,[32] was foolish enough to show herself aggrieved at not being permitted to ride in the same coach with the King of England and his bride. Madame de Ti

ow to deal sympathetically with those whose religion and manners differed from his own; and the scorn which, as a Catholic ecclesiastic, he felt for "the ministers," at whom, in his letters, he loses no opportunity of sneering, as an abstemious Frenchman he felt no less for the gluttonous English. He recognized Charles' affection for his bride; but when the artistic King thought to please her by giving her a beautiful picture of the Nativity, all that the priest found to say on seeing it was that it was older than the religion of its donor. His very virtues were unfortunate. Though practised in Courts, he was too sincere to be a successful diplomat, and he showed a singular lack of enlightened self-interest, both in the just reproaches with which he overwhelmed Buckingham on the subject of the Catholics, and also in the friendship which he extended to Bishop Williams, whose sun was setting before that of the younger favourite. Nor was he altogether successful in his dealings with the Quee

PIERRE

AN EN

o, when he left her to pay a visit of a few weeks to his native land, wrote requesting his return, as she could not get on without him; but the King frankly detested him, and years later, when the Bishop was in his grave, remembered angrily the arrogance with which the latter was wont to enter his wife's private apartments at any hour that pleased him. That the charges of indiscretion brought against him by the English were no

arles and his subjects were certainly in some degree aw

ere, to speak plainly, his spies. Some of them were French subjects abroad, others were subjects and often even servants of the King in whose land they lived, who were persuaded by the powerful argument of a pension to engage in this traffic in news.[37] By

ave those about her in whom he could feel confidence; in other words, that the choice and highly born body of men and women who served the person of the Queen of England should be also the servants of an alien power. They played their part well. Even Bérulle, who was too good an ecclesiastic not to know the duties of the married state, summed up, in a letter to a private friend, the objects of his mission to England as being "to initiate the spirit of the Queen of England into t

seeking for further cause, to account for the irritation of a young and hig

ville that the Duke had announced to her his intention of sowing dissension between her and her husband, and though it is probable, from letters of Charles which are still extant, that the French underrated his independent dislike of them, and consequently exaggerated the guilt of the favourite, yet the substantial truth of the accusation can hardly be doubted. Buckingham was acute enough to perceive the naturally uxorious bent of the King

nner, Henrietta's married happiness was put in jeopardy as much by the soft glances of Anne of Austria, as by the austerity of Bérulle or by the audacity of the Bishop of Mende. Was it not for the sake of this fair charmer that Buckingham, wishing to discredit her enemies, Mary de' Medici and Richelieu, tried to nullify the political effects of the match they had made? Was it not that he might return to

Nor did the Bishop confine himself to words. Secure in the favour of Richelieu he dared to oppose the Duke when that nobleman induced the King to appoint his wife, his sister,[39] and his niece dames du lit to the Queen. Henrietta, though she pointed out that already she had three ladies in place of the two who had served her mother-in-law, yet weary of opposition, would have given in, and perhaps the French Ambassadors, who were still in England and to whom the matter was referred, might also have been won over by th

by an open attack upon his favourite. Now, in the opinion of the Bishop, was the moment to offer to Buckingham the French alliance, and in a long cipher dispatch to Richelieu he detailed his hopes. Spain had turned against the Duke, the English detested him. What course was open to him but to fling himself into the arms of the most Christian King? But Buckingham had other and opposite views. He believed that his best chance of political salvation lay in counselling his master to grant the peti

ted on her conduct[40] and who chided her like a child, and once even dared to tell her that if she did not behave better her husband would see order to her. It is not surprising that her temper sometimes failed her. Once, even in the opinion of Tillières, she spoke unbecomingly about Madame S. Georges' exclusion from the royal coach; and another time, in a fit of girlish

ved to anger Charles further. "You are rather the ambassador of your brother the King of France than Queen of England,"[41] he said coldly, in reply to her entreaties

is usual candour, to Ville-aux-clercs, "you know so well the humour of our English that it would be superfluous to tell you that one can expect nothing from them unless one acts with force and vigour." Such attributes were never wanting to Richelieu's government. Ville-aux-clercs, whom the exiles would gladly have welcomed, "if we were worthy that God should work for us the miracle of enabling you to be in two places at once,"[43] could not indeed be spared, but a substitute was

ngham, whose overbearing rudeness was hateful to her, and on whom it is probable she never looked with favour, except perhaps at the very beginning of her married life, when she thought he might help her to revisit, in the midst of her miseries, her home and her mother. Now she showed herself restive, and Richelieu, who was much set on the conciliation of the Duke, discussed her conduct in a note which contains

to despise the language, the manners, and the religion of her adopted country, seemed to be at the beginning of the unhappy married life which so many princesses have had to endure. She was, moreover, more melancholy than usual, owing to the recent departure of Bérulle, which she regretted so deeply that her attendants were able to count more than twenty sighs as she sat at the table on the day he left her. The members of her ecclesiastical household were correspondingly d

gham proves that he had almost made up his mind to the only real cure for his troubles. The extraordinarily violent tone of this epistle suggests that his dislike

an incident occurred which is believed to have occasioned his withdrawal and which deserves a detailed description, as it illus

in the Palace at Whitehall, and she was annoyed when on the very day of the ceremony her husband told her that he wished her to go to the house of the Countess of Buckingham, whence a particularly fine view of the proceedings could be obtained. Still, she w

er goal, shrank back, fearing for her elaborately dressed hair, which she did not wish to have done again for the evening festivities. She told her husband, who was with her, that she thought the weather too bad to go, and asked him to conduct her t

ly displeased with her, and that it was surprising that for a little rain she should have refused to obey the commands of her husband. The proud young French Princess could not brook such language from one of her own subjects. Haughtily she made answer that in the Court of France she had been accustomed to see the

s wrath blazed forth. "I have sufficiently shown my obedience," she cried; "but unhappy me! obedience in England seems to be a crime." Buckingham, who was bent on making himself disagreeable all round, disregarding the Queen's protest, now turned to Blainville and remarked in a meaning way that he believed there were those who from motives of superstition had hindered her presence at a ceremony of the Knights of the Bath, and

was not forgiven. She was, she said, the most unhappy creature in the world, seeing him thus keep up his anger against her for so long. She would die rather than give him just cause for offence, and anyhow, whatever his feelings, could he not treat her in public

t he had grave cause of offence. The Queen had said that it was raining, and that if she went out in the rain she would so

sent a most unwelcome emissary, in the person of the Duke of Buckingham, who reiterated his assurances of the King's wrath, and informed Henrietta that if within two days she did not ask pardon her husband would

by his threat with regard to her servants. They would be retained, she felt sure, not for love of her, but on account of the pledge given to her brother the King of France. As for asking pardon, she could not do so for a fault she had never committed. Her conduct had been open and public, and all around her had praised rather than blamed her. No, she added, she would not ask pardon, unless at the express command of the King. Buckingham, whose loquacity f

is even said that he was forbidden the Court. But still, he was not to depart without a final brush with the enemy, for on Sunday, February 26th, a number of English Catholics who, following their usual but quite illegal practice, had come to hear Mass at the French Ambassador's chapel in Durham House in the Strand, were unpleasantly surprised as they came out after the service to find waiting for them at the door

the country to bear to France

rown away, because, injudiciously indeed, she had appointed to the office of Controller, which was only honorary, the Bishop of Mende. She was curtly informed that the post was required for the Earl of Carlisle, who was particularly odious to her on account of the indecent zeal which had prompted him within a few months of signing her mar

recriminations until, in the month of June,[47] an event

ovements, were seen directing their steps towards Tyburn, the place of public execution, which was near the present site of the Marble Arch. Arrived at this ill-omened spot, the royal lady and her suite fell upon their knees as upon holy ground, and so, indeed, in their eyes it was,

was a sectarian exaggeration. Apart from such extravagances, that which had been done was in the eyes of the King-and not without justice-unpardonable. Not only had his wife, the Queen of England, been placed in an undignified position by those who had permitted her to appear among the memorials of misery and crime, but a direct and most bitter insult had been offered to him, to his father, and to the great Queen on whose throne he sat. The Catholics who laid down their lives at Tyburn with a courage which forced the reluctant admiration even of t

f his girl-wife, and reserved his wrath for her advisers, particularly for the Bishop of Mende. "This action," he is reputed to have said, "can have no

oung diplomatist was able to carry out the more secret task which had been confided to him, which was nothing less than to discover whether the state of French domestic politics was such as to make it safe for the King of England to offer to the King of France so grave an insult as the expulsion of his sister's household. Montagu's report was encouraging. Owing to the great favour with which both Queen Anne and Madame de Chevreuse regarded him, he was able to pick up a good deal of information which would have escaped an ordinary envoy; he was thus, no doubt, able to trace in the ramifications of Ch

ngerous instrument to work his ends here."[49] At the Court feeling ran equally high. Buckingham's intentions and hopes have been sufficiently indicated, and there were others who, in a measure, shared them. Carlisle, whose anti-Catholic bitterness had been conspicuous throughout, and who had cynically remarked that the religious concessions made at the time of the marriage were only a blind to satisfy the Pope, and that the King of France had never expected them to be kept, was statesman enough to appreciate the real objections to the posit

mate, with such tact as he could, that they would be dismissed all the same. The vigilant Bishop of Mende, who probably knew a good deal of what was going on, himself proposed to hasten to the French Court, where his influence with Richelieu rendered him so effective, to represent matters in their true light. H

remove it without effect." "I thank you for your kindness," replied the Bishop satirically. "It is indeed unfortunate that your credit, which stands so high with the King i

ht that his place was at his mistress' side, and he knew that it would be difficult to detain the Count, however much Buckingham and the rest might desire to do so, as there wa

y lingering hesitation he may have felt was swept away by the encouragement given by Buckingham and Carlisle, both of whom spok

who was sitting in her own room with two of her ladies. The King rather rudely desired her to come to his apartments, but she, not altogether ignorant of the state of affairs, replied coldly that she begged him to say his

ld endure her French people and their meddling no longer, he said. He was going to send them all back t

and wept unrestrainedly. It was long before she found voice to plead that if Madame S. Georges, whom she knew he disliked, was too obnoxious, yet that she might keep Madame de Tillières, against whom no complaints had been brought. But Charles was inflexible. All were to go. More piteous sobbing followed, until the p

ly. She must see her

were leaving her for ever, she rushed to the window, that thence she might obtain a farewell glimpse of her banished compatriots. Such was her eagerness that she broke the intercepting panes of glass. But even

spokeswoman for the rest, said that they were the servants of the King of France, they could not leave their royal mistress without the orders of the Bishop of Mende, who was their superior. That gentleman arriving, in obedience to a hasty summons, did indeed at first assert with his usual hauteur that neither he nor any of the household would depart without the commands of their own sovereign. But

de M

pair, and do something to relieve my sorrow. I am the most afflicted creature in the world. Speak to the Queen my mother about my miseries, and tell her my troubles. I say good-bye to you and to all my poor officers, and I charge my fri

r me still, and tell Mamie tha

ious to point out with his own mouth to those whom it most concerned the reasons of his action. According to the Bishop, who occupied his leisure in writing angry letters to the King of France and the Queen-Mother, Charles acknowledged that he had no personal fault to find with his wife's servants, but said that it was necessary, to content his people and for the good of his affairs, that they should be expe

y or ecclesiastic, should go. "The Queen has been left neither confessor nor doctor, and I believe that her life and her religion are in very grave peril,"[53] wrote the Bishop. But Charles, though he was not to be moved by such innuendoes, relented in some degree. In the end one of Henrietta's l

aspersions on their characters not calculated to soothe their feelings, such as a charge of taking bribes, which charge their royal mistress, with characteristic justice and generosity, was at pains, even in the midst of her misery, to confute.[56] The Queen-Mother's remonstrances to her son-in-law were, indeed, quite unavailing, but they were dignified and expressed a surprise at his conduct which probably she did not feel, since, as the English took care to point out, it was not long since similar measure had been meted out to the Spanish attendants of Queen Anne. With her daughter she felt the warmest sympathy. "If your grief could be assuaged by that which I feel at the news of the expulsion of your servants and of the ill-t

eady making him a little ridiculous in the eyes of younger men who despised the Italian grace of the days of Catherine de' Medici. In the end this exquisite person had to go alone, for it was intimated that the King of England would not receive his col

or they had both taken the oath of allegiance, and they had both assured the Earl of Carlisle that they did not belong to the Church of Rome, but to that which was Catholic, Gallican, and "Sorbonique," an assertion which particularly enraged Bassompierre, who saw in it an insult to the French Church and nation. He was probably little more moved by the accusation brought against one of them by the Bishop of bracketing together "the three Impostors, Mahomet, Jesus Christ, and Moses."[58] Only one person showed any cordiality to the unfortunate Ambassador. Buckingham, thinking on the Queen of France in Paris, felt that he had gone too far, and decided that it would be well to conciliate H

and Bassompierre, who had made matters worse by his grave indiscretion in bringing as his chaplain the Queen's late confessor, Father Sancy, with all his diplomacy could do no more. He was indeed anxious to be gone. The account of his embassy in England, which he included in his memoi

aniards and courtesy among the Swiss during the embassies which I have carried on there on beh

haracter in a manner which is worth quoting, as it serves to expla

sland on the shores of which the tempest has thrown you. I myself have always considered the English less reasonable than the Swiss, and at

n with their wishes. "They will not have much difficulty in carrying into effect the resolution which they have taken to prevent my return," he wrote, "for both parties are quite of one opinion on that matter, my humour (setting aside the interes

d been released from prison in compliment to the King of France. And thus ended the last stage of this sordid st

llowed himself to be placed in an impossible position, from which only violence could extricate him. On their own showing it is difficult to see how any self-respecting husband, let alone a great king, could have endured the Bishop of Mende, Madame S. Georges, or even Father Bérulle. They, for their part, had much to complain of, and they saw in every approximation of their mistress to English customs and ways of thought a menace, not only to the inte

principal authorities for Henrietta Maria's early married life: they are very full and vi

scription of Paris in a

o Paris, o

s faire but

pes great

t is, I need

n may easi

es it up

y Sir J. M. and Ja

, by Sir J. M. and

Turin with Henrietta

istinct from the better known Roma

ession in La Vie du Cardinal Bérulle. Par Germain Hab

. Roman T

heretic: Fr. Leander de S. Martino, an English Benedictine, wrote a long letter to Bér

eived ￡2000 per annum from Richelieu, and he was particularly useful to the French, whom he did not op

uperior of French Oratory a

] son Eresas muy perniciosas. Spanish

to mend her maners."-H

nta en el estado en que estan los Catho

e chap

to Ville-aux-clercs.

ntentments in my Wyfe I could tarie no longer from adverticing of you that I mea

by Charles or Buckingham would have been somewhat different: it is printed in an article entit

ma maitresse est reduite de fouiller dans nos bourses, si ces choses dur

February Henrietta had written to the Pope asking that she, her household, and the Cat

of Westminster. Se

Times of Cha

character: cf. his refusal to allow Sir Joh

and is perhaps a rough draft; it is apparently in H

an by faire meanes (but stike not longe in disputing) otherways force them away, dryving away so manie wild bea

o Mary de' Medici. Af

She was allowed to keep also a few inferior French servants, and Maurice Aubert, who appears in a list of her servan

arie de France, reine d'

her to them: her statement is confirmed by the fact that Charles requested the French Government to pay the deb

, August 22nd, 1626. MS. Fran?ais, 369

of France, August 12th, 16

hop of Mende, October 1

ssompierre, October 29th,