Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I Read online

  In the solitude of my apartment, Mamie and I discussed her. Mamie thought she was a very strong-minded woman and advised me to be careful in my dealings with her.

  “Don’t show that you dislike her. Don’t forget that although you may dislike the Duke of Buckingham, he is the most powerful man in the country under the King, and it is unwise to offend him too much.”

  But when had I ever been wise? I always listened to Mamie’s advice but I only took it when I wanted to.

  “What is this Buckingham family?” I cried. “They were nothing before little Steenie attracted King James—and in a manner that is a disgrace to morality.”

  “Hush,” said Mamie.

  I snapped my fingers at her. “Don’t tell me to hush. Remember who I am.”

  “Oh,” said Mamie, “on our high horse now, are we? Shall I bow low to Your Majesty and walk out on all fours?”

  She could always make me laugh and that was why I loved her so much.

  I went on: “It shows they were nothing…otherwise she would never have married William Feilding. Who was he, pray, before the earldom was bestowed on him? A commoner who had the good fortune to marry Susan Villiers. He would not have been allowed to unless he had done so before her brother caught the King’s eye with his pretty face and made the family fortunes.”

  “My word, you have probed into the family history.”

  “Well, I happen to be interested in these odious connections of Buckingham’s, and don’t forget they tried to force Susan Villiers into my bedchamber.”

  “The Countess of Denbigh now.”

  “A title bestowed by the good graces of her brother who wants to see all his family in influential places. Oh, he has to be watched, that one.”

  “And you will do the watching?”

  I said: “You are laughing at me again. I forbid it.”

  “Then I will hide my laughter and present always a serious countenance to Your Majesty.”

  “That is what I could not bear. There is too much solemnity around me already.”

  I will admit, when looking back, that I behaved in an unseemly fashion toward the Countess of Denbigh; but then she was hardly within her rights in her conduct toward me.

  She professed to be very religious and it was quite clear that she deplored the fact that Mass was celebrated at Tichfield. I will not try to pretend that I did not arrange for our services to take place as ostentatiously as I could, and those about me—perhaps with the exception of Mamie—did all they could to encourage me.

  It was Mamie who told me that the Countess of Denbigh had decided that she would arrange a Protestant service to take place in the great hall at Tichfield. All the household should assemble and take part—with, of course, the exception of mine.

  I was rather pleased because courtesy would demand that as the Queen was in the house her permission would have to be asked.

  I discussed it with Mamie.

  “I shall refuse it,” I said.

  “You cannot,” replied Mamie, shocked.

  “I can and I will.”

  “It would be a grave mistake. Listen, my dearest, you are a fervent Catholic, but you are in a country where the Protestant religion is maintained. You must graciously give your consent and while the service is going on remain in your apartments. There is nothing else to be done.”

  “Why does she arrange this while I am here?”

  “Perhaps to show that while the country has a Catholic Queen, it is staunchly Protestant.”

  “Then I shall refuse.”

  “Please do not. It would be folly. They would hold it against you. It would get to the King’s ears…worse still, to those of his ministers. It would not be tolerated to forbid these people to worship in the accepted religion of the country.”

  I pressed my lips firmly together. In my heart I knew that she was right, but I could not stop myself rehearsing what I would say to Susan Villiers when she came to ask my permission.

  Mamie was not with me when one of my attendants came rushing into my apartments.

  “My lady,” cried my attendant breathlessly, “what do you think? There is a service going on in the great hall. The whole household…the Protestant household…is gathered there.”

  I was aghast.

  So, she had not bothered to ask my permission. This was a double insult. First to arrange the service while I was under this roof, then to carry it out without asking my permission.

  What could I do? I was not going to ask Mamie this time because I knew she would say “Nothing.” But I was enraged and I wanted it to be known.

  I had an idea. I would not go down and demand that it be stopped, which was my first reaction. I would disrupt it in such a manner as I could not be called to task for.

  I gathered together a group of my attendants and told them we were going to take out the dogs. We all loved our little dogs and most of the ladies had several. We put them on their leads and I led my party down to the hall where the assembled company was kneeling in prayer. I walked across the hall to the door, my attendants following me. The dogs yapped and barked and ran about; we laughed at their antics and chatted animatedly, behaving as though we could not see the people at prayer.

  At length we came out into the courtyard, laughing together. But I did not intend that it should end there. I sent about six of the ladies back to bring a kerchief for me. They went, taking their dogs with them, and I stood at the door exulting in the noise they made.

  When they returned, I cried in a loud voice, “The air is a little cold. I think I will not walk today.” Then we all trooped back. Someone was preaching but his voice was drowned in the commotion we made.

  Of course everyone was shocked by what had happened—Mamie as much as anyone.

  They were all talking about it. I said that I should have been consulted and that to conduct such a service without my permission was a breach of good manners; but I think that most people thought that her fault in not asking my permission was slight compared with the way in which I and my attendants had acted.

  Deep shock was expressed about my behavior. Mamie was the first to tell me that I should never have behaved as I did and that it would be remembered and held against me. Perhaps the Countess had been remiss but what I had done amounted to an insult to the Protestant religion.

  I said I did not care and would do it again, which made Mamie despair.

  When the King returned from his hunting trip he said nothing about the incident but I felt sure he had heard of it. There was a certain determination added to his usual sternness, and I wondered whether he was planning something.

  In many ways he was delighted with me. I believe he could have been passionately in love with me then; but I was so unsatisfactory to him in many ways and a man of his nature could never quite forget that.

  I did not understand this then. It is only now that I do when I have so much time—too much time—for reflection. There was consternation between the Courts of France and England. Nothing was going as anyone had wanted it to. There was so much conflict that Mamie feared my husband and my brother might be on the brink of war with each other. My brother—or I expect it was Richelieu—sent the Sieur de Blainville to try to bring some accord between the two countries. The King did not like him very much and that made it difficult for any understanding to be reached. Blainville came to see me and told me I should try to understand the English, to learn their language, to mingle with them at Court and not keep myself isolated with my French household.

  Buckingham was out of the country, which always made me feel happier. He was trying to persuade Richelieu to join him against the Spaniards, so he said. I wondered whether he was still hankering after my sister-in-law Queen Anne and whether his little jaunt was to try to win her favor. After that incident in the gardens when she had had to scream for help, I believed Buckingham was capable of anything.

  The Duchesse de Chevreuse provided a little bit of liveliness to the scene when she gave birth to a child. Whose? I
wondered, and so did many more.

  She was quite blatant about it and the Duc de Chevreuse acted as though the child were his. He must have been used to her little ways and that they should sometimes produce consequences should not be a matter for surprise.

  Then Buckingham returned, apparently somewhat deflated. His plans had gone awry. I guessed they would. He could hardly win favor in France after his disgraceful conduct with the Queen. Moreover I think he was not the man to succeed at anything but winning the doting affection of men like King James and the friendship of young inexperienced men like King Charles. I wished that Charles was not so devoted to him. I believed they discussed me and my relationship with my husband and I began to suspect that Buckingham sowed seeds of discord in my husband’s mind. Not that Buckingham would dare openly attack me. But he must be a master of the subtle suggestion, and I had noticed that when he was absent there seemed to be less conflict between me and Charles.

  When we were alone in our bedchamber Charles would be quite affectionate; he would even smile faintly and express his satisfaction with my person and forget for a while how unsatisfactory I was in other ways, so when I wanted to make appointments in my household I decided that the best time to approach him was during one of those bedtime tête-à-têtes. I wanted to assure the position of some of my attendants and I could only do this by appointing them to vacant posts.

  I had taken a great deal of trouble to draw up a list, and I had been careful to add some English names to it. In fact I had rather cleverly—I thought—intermingled them skillfully which had the effect of diminishing the number of French I had included.

  I was in bed and Charles had just joined me. He had turned to me and laid his arm about me when I said: “I have a paper here which I want you to look at.”

  “A paper?” he said in astonishment. “Now?”

  “It is just a small list of those I wish to be officers in my retinue.”

  “Well, I will look at it in the morning. But you know that according to the agreement with your brother which we made at the time of our marriage, it is my right to name such people.”

  “Oh, you will agree to these,” I said lightly. “There are a number of English names there as well as French.”

  He raised himself on his elbow and looked at me and although I could not see him very clearly in the dim light, I knew that he had assumed that stern and suspicious demeanor.

  “There will be no French in your retinue,” he said coldly. “It would be quite impossible for them to serve in that capacity.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it is my will that they should not.”

  “But,” I retorted angrily, “it is my will that they should. My mother wishes these people to be admitted into my retinue.”

  “It is no affair of your mother’s.”

  “And none of mine?” I asked defiantly.

  “None of yours,” he said. “If it is not my will then it cannot be yours.”

  I was so angry. If I could have done so I would have risen from the bed and made my preparations to return to France. We sat up in bed glaring at each other.

  I cried: “Then take back your lands. Take them all…lands…castles…everything you have bestowed on me. If I have no power to act in them as I wish, I have no desire to possess them.”

  He said slowly but very distinctly: “You must remember to whom you speak. I am your King. You are my Queen but also a subject. You should take heed of the fate of other Queens of England.”

  I could scarcely believe my ears. Was he reminding me of the ill-fated Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard? Could it be that Charles, whom I had always thought of as gentle and kindly meaning, was telling me that if I did not behave as he wished I might lose my head.

  I felt enraged and insulted. I began to weep—not quietly but stormily. I said I was utterly miserable and longed to be back in France. I was nothing here. I was insulted and maltreated. I was given a household but I had no power in it. I wanted to go home. While I was saying all this he was trying to placate me.

  “Listen to me,” he said.

  “I want to hear no more,” I cried. “The more I hear the more miserable I become. Why do you use me so? Am I not the daughter of a great King? My brother is King of France. If my family but knew!”

  He said: “Your family know full well that you are being treated here in accordance with your deserts. Your brother has sent Blainville here to try to reason with you.”

  “I have been unused to such treatment,” I wailed. “I hate it here. I want to go home. I will write to my brother….”

  “Much good that will do you.”

  “To my mother…. She will understand.”

  He was silent for a while and I grew tired of talking to what seemed like no one. I slid down and buried my face in the pillow.

  There was a long silence. Then he sighed and lay down too.

  After a while he said: “I will say this and that is an end to the matter: You cannot fill posts in your retinue with your French servants. These posts must be filled by English people. You have become the Queen of England and the sooner you realize it, the better for you and all concerned.”

  With that he pretended to sleep and I ceased to cry.

  Later he turned to me and was very tender.

  But I knew I had lost the battle.

  The next climax which arose was due to the coronation. Charles of course had only become King just before our marriage and in accordance with custom his coronation should take place soon after he came to the throne. His had been delayed because of the plague but with the beginning of the next year London seemed safe again and plans went ahead with great speed, for a coronation has a special significance. It is only when a King has been anointed and crowned that the people feel he is truly King.

  So Charles was of course eager to be crowned.

  I was the Queen and I should be crowned with him, but I could see all sorts of difficulties, for how could I—a Catholic—be crowned in a Protestant ceremony.

  I discussed the matter with my French attendants and of course with Father Sancy. He was adamant. I most certainly must not be crowned in a Protestant church and indeed I should not even attend the coronation.

  “Then I shall not be crowned Queen,” I pointed out.

  “Only when you receive the crown in the true Faith,” he said.

  Charles was bewildered at first when he heard my views on the matter; then he was very angry.

  “Do you mean to say you refuse to be crowned?”

  “In a Protestant church, yes.”

  “You are mad,” he said. “Do you value your crown so little?”

  “I value my Faith more,” I replied dramatically.

  “You must be the first Queen who has refused to be crowned,” he said. “Do you realize that it will be said you have no firm hold on it?”

  “What would God say if I allowed myself to take part in such a mockery?”

  That was when he became really angry. “Be silent,” he cried. “Don’t dare talk so in my presence.”

  He was really rather frightening then. He went away and left me. I think he was afraid he might do me some harm.

  It was an extraordinary state of affairs and everyone was talking about it. The Queen would not have a coronation! The English thought I was mad; and they were annoyed with me, too, looking upon my attitude as some insult to them; but my own attendants applauded me. Even Mamie did not condemn the action, but she did say she thought it was unwise.

  As for the Comte de Blainville, he was astounded, although Catholic as he was he should have understood. It meant, of course, that if I did not go he could not either. He said he would have risked the small strain to his conscience, which was meant I supposed to be a mild reproof to me. But he did add that as I was not to be crowned he could hardly be there.

  Charles tried once or twice to reason with me but I refused to listen.

  “The people may well take this as an insult to them and their Churc
h. It will not make you very popular with them.”

  “I care nothing for their regard,” I said.

  “Then you are even more foolish than I thought” was his terse reply.

  On another occasion he tried to persuade me at least to be present in the Abbey. He would have a latticed box made where I could sit unseen.

  “No,” I cried vehemently. “It would be wrong for me to be in such a place.”

  He spoke to me no more of the matter, but I knew that he was very displeased and that the people in the streets discussed it and said some very unflattering things about me.

  However I refused to be dismayed. In those days I had the gift of persuading myself that what I did was always right. Coronation Day was the second of February, which was Candlemas Day, one of the festivals of our Church, so while the coronation was in progress, we celebrated that; but I have to admit that afterward I could not resist watching the procession from a window in Whitehall Palace.

  The King was very cool to me and I was beginning to feel a little uneasy because, although I was in fact Queen of England, I had not been crowned and I did not see how I ever could be until that day when I brought the whole country to the true Faith.

  It was about a week after the coronation when the second Parliament of Charles’s reign was about to be opened and that meant a grand procession. Father Sancy said I might watch it from one of the windows of Whitehall Palace, but Buckingham in his interfering way suggested that I should see it better from his family’s house and his mother would be very happy if I joined her and the ladies of the Buckingham household.

  I was very annoyed about this and wanted to refuse but I was feeling a little nervous because of all the fuss over the coronation.

  Charles said he would escort me to the Buckingham residence and I was waiting for him to come, inwardly fuming because I had agreed to go to those I hated so much.