Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I Page 24

  They had set up a great tribunal in Westminster Hall and the peers and Lord Chancellor on the Woolsack were there with the judges—and also the Commons. How I hated them in their black clothes. Cruel Roundheads, I called them.

  I watched, with the King, behind a trellis. I had said that the two elder children should go with us—so Charles and Mary came. I shall never forget the intent look on the face of my serious son. Young Charles was determined to learn how to be a king. Mary was a little apprehensive. I supposed she was thinking of the young bridegroom who would soon be coming to claim his bride.

  We sat there throughout the day, and at night returned to Whitehall Palace. We grew more and more depressed as the days passed. I had to do something for I could not endure inactivity.

  I wrote again to the Pope. I begged him to let me have five hundred crowns for I believed that if I had this money I could bribe the members of Parliament. It was a wild idea and as soon as I had done it I regretted it and saw the folly of it. But watching those horrible Roundheads in the hall with the cruelty on their stern pale faces and knowing that they were doing their best to hound dear Strafford to his death made me desperate and I was sure that they were such villains that they would be open to bribes.

  That was not the height of my stupidity. I knew that Lucy was rather interested in their Puritan doctrines. It was laughable. Lucy a Puritan! Her main preoccupation was with her gowns and her complexion. But Lucy was like that. She favored contrasts, and oddly enough she had become quite friendly with the odious Pym.

  I guessed that she was worried about the Earl of Strafford and she must be believing that Pym might help to get him released. How clever of her! Pym carried great weight in the Commons. He was their leader, and of course the best way to serve Strafford was to be friendly with men like Pym, to try to make them understand that in no way could he be called a traitor.

  I told Lucy that I too would like to meet some of the Parliamentarians that I might talk to them and attempt to make them see reason.

  She said it would have to be in secret.

  “Could you bring them to Whitehall?” I asked.

  “Well, you know I am talking to Pym quite a lot nowadays.”

  “Yes, I know. You are so clever, Lucy. What could you arrange for me?”

  Lucy loved intrigue. She said we could use one of the rooms in the palace. One of the ladies was away for a time so why should we not use hers? Lucy would see whom she could bring to the palace.

  So there I was creeping through the corridors of Whitehall after dark, lighted by the taper I carried, meeting those men whom Lucy arranged should talk to me. They were astonished; they were overawed although they held their stupid uncurled heads high; they were respectful; they listened; but they did not commit themselves to help Strafford, which was what I wanted them to do.

  I did not tell Charles what I was doing. It was unconventional and he liked to do things by order. But after a while I began to see that the operation was useless and told Lucy so. She agreed with me.

  So the Strafford trial went on and, listening to it every day behind the trellis, I was certain that those men down there were going to insist on his destruction, no matter what the verdict.

  But we held the trump card, I told Charles. He had promised Strafford that he would never sign the death warrant and they could not kill him without the King’s authority.

  That thought sustained us during those days.

  Toward the end of the month our bridegroom arrived with some pomp, escorted by a fleet of twenty vessels in charge of the famous Dutch Admiral van Tromp. Charles dispatched the Earl of Lindsay to welcome him in his name when they arrived at Gravesend and in due course the Prince rode into London in the carriage Charles had sent for him. As the Prince came close to the Tower one hundred pieces of ordnance were discharged as a welcome, and it was about five o’clock in the evening when they arrived at Whitehall. Charles was worried because of the strange mood of the people, who were overexcited by the trial of Strafford and taking sides with the Parliament against the King.

  It would have been disastrous if they should riot and attack our visitors, so he had ordered the guards to be out in full force—which looked like a guard of honor but which was really one of protection.

  I liked the look of the young Prince. He was fifteen years old—Mary was only ten—and quite good looking. Moreover it was obvious that he was pleased by the match and it was only natural that he should be. He had the sad state of affairs in England to thank for it; it would never have been made in happier circumstances.

  Mary was at Somerset House so she was not present at our first meeting and the Prince immediately asked our leave to visit her there. Charles said that the permission was readily granted and he felt sure that the Prince would want to pay his respects to the Queen Mother at St. James’s before making the journey to Somerset House.

  The Prince bowed and said that he would first call on the Queen Mother although I knew he was all impatience to see Mary; but as Charles said to me, he thought we should be there when they met and while William was visiting St. James’s we could go privately and with all speed to Somerset House, which we did; and I was so pleased to see the first meeting between the young couple.

  It lifted my spirits for they liked each other on sight and I knew from experience how terrifying it can be to be sent to a bridegroom whom one has never seen.

  I said to Charles: “I have one prayer to make at this moment and that is that Mary may find almost as great a happiness with her husband as I have had with mine…. I would say, as great, but my dearest, there can be only one most perfect husband in the world and I have already taken him.”

  Charles smiled in that rather embarrassed way he had when face to face with my extravagant words and deeds, but he was greatly moved and he did say that his prayer would be worded in exactly the same way except that he would substitute wife for husband.

  Whitehall chapel was prepared for the ceremony and the bridegroom appeared looking very handsome in red velvet, adorned by a collar of Vandyke point lace. Mary looked beautiful. She was somewhat simply dressed in a gown of silver tissue and her jewelry was all pearl. Her hair was tied with silver ribbons so that she gave an impression of absolute purity. I myself had chosen her dress and I was glad that I had insisted on such simplicity for I thought that, standing beside her red velvet–clad bridegroom, she looked elegant, while the poor boy looked overdressed, nouveau riche… and to tell the truth a little crude.

  I did not participate in the ceremony. How could I since it was Protestant? I sat with my mother and my daughter Elizabeth in a curtained-off gallery from which we could watch the scene below without taking part in it.

  The Bishop of Ely performed the ceremony. Our Archbishop, I was reminded with a pang of fear, was a prisoner in the Tower. The King gave his daughter away and the Prince put the ring on her finger.

  Then the entire company proceeded to the great chamber where the banquet was to take place. It was an impressive scene with the magnificent tapestries on which was depicted the defeat of the Spanish Armada lining the walls. How different England had been then! I reflected ruefully. How the brave men rallied to their Queen and fought for their country. And my Charles is such a good man. Queen Elizabeth was not always a good woman. How was it that she had bound men to her when my beloved Charles lacked the power to do so?

  There followed the farcical ceremony of putting the bride and groom to bed. There was to be no consummation as Mary was too young and she would not go with her bridegroom when he left for home, but stay a little longer with her family.

  My little girl was undressed, put in a night robe and lay down in the beautiful state bed adorned with blue velvet which was in my chamber. Then the Prince of Orange came in. He looked very pleasant in a robe of blue and green satin lined with silver. He was put into the bed where he kissed Mary and the two children lay there together, one at each end of the bed with a considerable distance between them. They stayed ther
e for fifteen minutes then Prince William kissed Mary and left the bed.

  The ceremony was completed. My daughter was married to the Prince of Orange.

  Now we must return to the dismal way of life which we had temporarily left to celebrate the marriage.

  During those dark days which followed the wedding I was constantly looking for some ray of hope. I thought I had found it when George Goring came to me with what seemed like a splendid idea.

  I liked George Goring. He was the son of the Earl of Norwich and was exceptionally handsome and charming. His looks led him into temptation, however, and he was somewhat profligate and because he was so extravagant he had had to go and live frugally abroad for some time. But he had good friends—among them the Earl of Strafford—and a place was found for him in the Army where he had the rank of colonel with the command of twenty-two companies. He was shot in the leg in battle, which had resulted in his being a little lame.

  When he asked for an audience I was delighted to grant it and even more delighted when he laid his plans before me.

  “The trial is going against Strafford,” he said, “and the Parliament is striking at the King through the Earl.”

  I replied that I feared this was so.

  “Well, Your Majesty,” said the dashing man who was about the same age as I was, “are we going to sit back and let them lead us by the nose?”

  “It is the last thing I want to do.”

  “Well, we must act,” said Goring. “The Army should be in London and the first thing to do would be to seize the Tower.”

  My eyes gleamed and I clapped my hands. Action at last. Positive action. It was what I had craved for.

  He talked excitedly about how he would achieve the desired effect. He would want to be made Lieutenant General of the Army. That would be essential.

  I agreed that this should be.

  “Madam,” he said, “I came to you because I know what weight your word carries with the King. I knew I could be sure of your understanding and sympathy. Will you put this plan to the King?”

  I said that most certainly I would and I could scarcely wait to see Charles.

  When I did see him I was so excited that I began by telling him that we were going to defeat our enemies because we had the Army on our side and I would prove this to him.

  He looked rather abstracted. Then he said: “First I will tell you my news.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said impatiently. “What is it? Be quick for you will be so excited by my news.”

  “I want to tell you of a plot which involves the Army.”

  At first I thought he was talking about the same one and that George Goring must have gone to him after all. But that was not so. It seemed that there was another plot which involved four Members of Parliament—all officers of the Army—who were disturbed by the course events were taking.

  “They tell me,” said Charles excitedly, “that the Army does not like the Parliamentarians and is eager to rise against them.”

  “This is wonderful,” I cried. “Who are these men?”

  “They are all in Parliament and that is significant. You know them: Henry Percy, Henry Wilmot, William Ashburton and Hugh Pollard.”

  “And George Goring…?”

  The King looked surprised and I could contain myself no longer. “George Goring has been to see me. He has a wonderful idea for seizing the Tower and bringing down troops from the North to take London.”

  “George Goring…” murmured the King. Then he turned to me, his eyes alight with hope. “So there are two separate plots afoot. This shows well the feelings of our friends. Oh, my love, at last I see some light in the sky.”

  I hugged him fiercely; then I was serious and so was he, I could see that we both had the same idea. There must not be two plots. The conspirators must join up and work together. Taking the Tower was an excellent idea; the four noble gentlemen must be informed of it.

  “We shall link up the two parties,” I cried excitedly.

  “With the greatest care,” replied Charles. “You know we are closely watched. It would not do for us to be seen with either party yet.”

  “We need a go-between,” I said, my eyes sparkling.

  “Someone whom we can trust. Who is the most loyal supporter we have. Jermyn, I think.”

  I was very fond of Henry Jermyn. The slanders which have been uttered regarding my relationship with him are utterly false, but that does not mean I did not have a great regard for him. To be involved in these plots was dangerous and, for someone who was outside both of them and would have the delicate task of linking them up, it could be doubly dangerous.

  “Not Jermyn,” I said firmly. “He is too close to us. Any unusual movement on his part would be immediately noticed.”

  “We must have someone we can trust.”

  “I know, but I don’t think it would be wise for Henry Jermyn to do this.”

  “I think it would be most unwise to trust anyone else to do it.”

  “Jermyn is not the man.”

  “Jermyn is the man.”

  In the past there would have been a stormy scene but we did not have those now; we were both too emotionally involved with danger and each other for quarrels. I did not want Henry Jermyn to involve himself in danger. I relied on him a good deal and he had been a great comfort to me. He was such a merry man and Charles was so sober. Of course my feelings toward Jermyn were those of a queen to a dear friend and were quite different from my relationship with Charles.

  At last I agreed that Henry Jermyn should meet both sets of conspirators and persuade them to work together. Henry willingly undertook the task but after a while he came to me and I could see that he was a little worried.

  “Goring is a very ambitious man,” he said, “and you know the King is really more in favor of the Percy and Wilmot plan to get the country to declare for the King against the Parliament. Wilmot confessed to me that he thought the capture of the Tower would prove too difficult and if it failed the entire enterprise would fail with it. Goring is not very pleased. He is set on being in command. Wilmot however wants that role for himself.”

  “Oh, these petty quarrels,” I cried. “They should forget about them at such a time.”

  I thought they had, for Goring gave way to Wilmot and went to Portsmouth to make preparations as we had decided.

  It was Lucy who broke the news to me. She was very well informed of what was going on and I talked to her a great deal, although Charles had warned me not to mention the Army Plot to anyone…simply not anyone…and I had obeyed him in this.

  I knew by her face as soon as I saw her that something dramatic had happened. I cried: “What is it? What is it?”

  “There has been a plot,” she told me. “The Army is involved. They planned to take the Tower and march on London.”

  I felt my heart beating wildly as the color drained from my face. “A…a plot?” I stammered.

  “Yes…against the Parliament. Wilmot is one involved, with Percy.”

  “No!” I cried.

  “This will decide the case against Strafford.”

  “Why Strafford? He has nothing to do with it.”

  “He is against the Parliament and for the King.”

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  “John Pym spoke in the House about it. He has all the details and a list of the conspirators.”

  I thought: Can we never succeed? Then I thought of Henry Jermyn whom I had allowed to become involved. They would be called traitors, all of them, and I knew what sort of death awaited traitors. I was sick with fear and worry and while we were talking a guard came to the door of the apartment.

  “Your Majesty,” he said with his usual respect, “I have orders that no one shall leave the palace.”

  “Does that include the Queen?” I asked ironically.

  “My orders were no one, Madam.”

  “Young man,” I said. “I am the daughter of Henri Quatre, the great King of France. He never fled in danger nor am I
about to.”

  The guard looked ashamed and murmured that he must obey his superior officers.

  “I do not blame you,” I told him. “It is your masters who will have to pay for this.”

  There was one thought in my head. I must get a message to Henry Jermyn. He must get away quickly as, of course, must all the conspirators.

  I smuggled a message out to him and was relieved when I heard that he had already left London and was on his way to Portsmouth to warn Goring of what had happened. They would have no alternative but to leave the country and from Portsmouth they would have a good opportunity of doing so.

  Meanwhile I remained at Whitehall but I did see that it was dangerous for me to stay there. The best plan would be for me to leave secretly and to make my way to Portsmouth. If I could get there and across to France I could see my brother and perhaps raise money and gather an army to fight for Charles.

  I think I might have got away for the guards had now been withdrawn. I had gathered together my jewels and a few things and arranged for the coach to be ready, but just as I was about to leave, the French ambassador arrived at the palace. He regarded me with some dismay when he saw that I was on the verge of departure.

  “Your Majesty cannot leave now,” he cried. “That would be disastrous.”

  “How can I stay here? The people are murmuring against me. It is not safe for me…my mother or my children.”

  “Nevertheless to go now would be the worst thing possible. Do you know what is happening?”

  I covered my face with my hands. “I only know that everything we do results in failure. I have to get away. I have to find money and men. I must save the King.”

  “Your Majesty, the Army Plot was betrayed to the Parliament by George Goring.”

  “George Goring! No! Never!”

  “That is so. He wanted to be in command and there was conflict with Wilmot on this issue—so to take his revenge he informed against the plotters.”