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[Illustration: HENRIETTA MARIA
FROM THE PAINTING BY VAN DYCK AT WINDSOR]
HENRIETTA MARIA
by
HENRIETTA HAYNES
With Twelve Illustrations
New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons
London: Methuen & Co. Ltd.
1912
PREFACE
A bibliography of the sources from which this book has been written would
extend to many pages: much information has been derived from the
collections of MSS. preserved in Paris in the Bibliothèque Nationale, in
the Archives Nationales, and in the Bibliothèque Mazarine; from the
valuable series of Roman Transcripts in the Public Record Office, London;
from the curious and interesting documents in the archives of the See of
Westminster, and from the newspapers and pamphlets which form a branch of
the literature of the Civil War.
I have to express my thanks to His Eminence Cardinal Bourne, who kindly
permitted me to consult the archives of the See of Westminster and to print
three of the documents in the Appendix; to Mr. Edward Armstrong, Provost of
Queen's College, Oxford, and to the Rev. H. Thurston, S.J., who have given
me much help and advice; to the nuns of the Convent of the Visitation,
Harrow-on-the-Hill, who lent me the rare _Vie de la Ven. Mère Louise
Eugénie de la Fontaine_; and, finally, to my friend, Miss H. M. Morris, who
with unwearied kindness read through nearly the entire MS. of the book, and
helped me much by her criticisms and suggestions.
ERRATA
Page 65, line 7. For "complimentary" read "complementary."
" 66, " 24. For "neither of whom" read "who, neither of them."
" 69, " 14. For "were" read "was."
" 72, " 16. For "new" read "own."
" 77, " 7. Omit "to" between "turns" and "a street."
" 77, " 32. For "imaginares" read "imaginaires."
" 110, note 1. For "Anglicans" read "Anglicanus."
" 138, " 1. For "Anglians" read "Anglicanus."
" 155, line 28. For "In" read "For."
" 155, note 2. For "Corznet" read "Coignet."
" 155, " 2. For "Bahn" read "Baker."
" 227, " 1. For "Magasin" read "Mazarine."
" 244, " 2. For "trois" read "train."
" 275, " 2. For "Lovel" read "Loret."
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
Introduction xi
I. The Daughter of France 1
II. The Bride of England 28
III. The Queen of the Courtiers 61
IV. The Queen of the Catholics 92
V. The Queen's Converts 130
VI. The Eve of the War. I 141
VII. The Eve of the War. II 167
VIII. The Queen and the War. I 193
IX. The Queen and the War. II 217
X. The Queen of the Exiles 252
XI. The Foundress of Chaillot 276
XII. The End 302
Appendix 321
Index 331
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
HENRIETTA MARIA _Frontispiece._
From the painting by Van Dyck at Windsor
(From a photo by F. Hanfstaengl)
FACING PAGE
HENRY IV 18
From an engraving after the picture by Francis Pourbus
CARDINAL PIERRE DE BÉRULLE 32
From an engraving
OLD SOMERSET HOUSE 68
From an engraving after an ancient painting in Dulwich College
CHARLES I AND HENRIETTA MARIA 90
From the painting by Van Dyck in the Gallerìa Pitti, Florence
(From a photo by G. Brogi)
THE DUCHESS OF CHEVREUSE 146
After the picture by Moreelse, once in the possession of Charles I
CARDINAL DE RICHELIEU 168
From a portrait by Phillippe de Champaigne
(From a photo by Neurdein)
THE QUEEN'S DEPARTURE FROM HOLLAND 200
From an engraving
SIR KENELM DIGBY 232
From an engraving after the painting by Van Dyck
HENRY JERMYN, EARL OF ST. ALBANS 260
From an engraving
HENRIETTA MARIA 278
From an engraving
THE RUE ST. ANTOINE, PARIS (SHOWING THE CHAPEL OF THE VISITANDINES) 304
From an engraving by Ivan Merlen
INTRODUCTION
The woman to whose life and environment the following pages are dedicated
was called upon to play her part in one of the most difficult and
perplexing periods of our history: she lived just on the edge of the modern
world, when the Middle Ages, with their splendid simplicity of
all-embracing ideals, had passed away, and when even the ideals of
nationality and religious freedom which the Renaissance and the Reformation
had brought were becoming modified by the stirring of a new spirit of
liberty. The two countries which Henrietta Maria knew were throughout her
lifetime making their future destiny: the France which cherished her youth
and sheltered her age was becoming the greedy France of Louis XIV, with its
splendid Court, its attempts at territorial growth, its downtrodden,
suffering people; the England of her happy married life was growing in
political self-consciousness and in a stern and repellent godliness which
was to mould the character of the nation, and to educate it to become in
the next century the builder-up of the greatest empire which the world has
ever seen.
Henrietta's life touches both England and France: by race, by education she
was a Frenchwoman; by marriage she was an Englishwoman, and it is on
English history that she has left the impress of her vivid personality; but
the France which she never forgot coloured her thoughts throughout, and
taught her in all probability those maxims of statecraft which she
attempted to apply when the troubles of her life came upon her.
She was the daughter of Henry IV, the great restorer of the French
monarchy, the champion of an unified France, embracing in wide toleration
Catholic and Protestant alike: her youth witnessed the beginning of
Richelieu's continuance of her father's work; under the auspices of the
great Cardinal she was married, and though later her regard for him turned
to hatred, yet the impress which his genius had left upon her mind was not
thereby destroyed.
But her marriage transported her to a very different scene. England, under
the iron heel of the Tudor despotism, had been worn out by no wasting civil
wars; even the Reformation had brought little disturbance, for Henry VIII,
by his amazing force of character, had been able to carry through a
religious revolution almost without the people being aware of it; but the
long peace was teaching men to forget the horrors of war and division. By
the time the crown of the great Elizabeth passed to her Scotch cousin,
Englishmen had ceased to look to the monarchy as the centre of unity. There
was no need of a Henry of Navarre to bind up the wounds of the country. The
old factious nobility had for the most part been slain in the War of the
Roses, and the peaceful generations which followed had allowed of the
growth of a powerful upper and middle class, which, originally fostered by
the Crown as a counterpoise to the decayed feudal nobility, was now
aspiring to a large share in the ruling of the people.
Henrietta wished to see her husband great and powerful, and she could not
appreciate that the day of despotism which in France was beginning, in
England was ending. Charles had not in him the stuff of greatness, but it
is doubtful if even a Henry IV or a Richelieu could have put back the hands
of the clock and realized her ambition. The despotism which was building up
on the other side of the Channel in this country was tottering to its fall
by the development of the intellect and character of the people. Henrietta
clung to the ideals of the past instead of stretching out to meet the
ideals of the future, and so her work failed even as did that of Strafford,
in spite of his greatness.
And this national development was connected with perhaps the most important
aspect of the matter. The Civil War was, more fundamentally than anything
else, a war of religion, another act in the great drama which had been
played in France half a century earlier, and which was still being played
in Germany. Henry VIII and Elizabeth seemed to have saved England from the
common fate of Europe; but it was not so: they only delayed the strife and
gave it a turn unknown elsewhere, adding to the disadvantages of the
champion of tradition this last, that he was a renegade in the eyes of the
party to which by the logic of history he belonged. To many of their
enemies, perhaps to most of them in certain moods, Charles and Henrietta
were not so much the hinderers of political freedom as the supporters of an
alien and blasphemous system of religion. It was the peculiar fortune of
England that it gained liberty by the lever of religion. But for the fear
of Popery it is far from improbable that the nation would not have arisen
to strike down thus violently the despotism of the Tudors. Rather, the
monarchy might have been gradually transformed, and with a very different
and more tardy result, by the character of the people. But Puritan England
could not leave irresponsible power in the hands of a sovereign whose very
Protestantism was not unimpeachable, and thus the victories which were won
by sectarian enthusiasm resulted not in the advancement of a barren
fanaticism, but in the sure laying of the foundations of the liberty of the
people. In France, where, among many differences from England, there was
this great one, that the people and the monarch were substantially agreed
on religious matters, there was discontent, even rebellion, but there was
no revolution, and the people was left for another century and a half to
bear the accumulating load of its misery, until the burden became
unbearable and was cast off with a shock from which Europe still trembles.
Henrietta Maria's life was a failure. She failed to commend either her
person, her religion, or her political ideals, and she brought her husband
a degree of unpopularity which without her he might have escaped. Her
circumstances were hard. She could not help being a Catholic, nor the fact
that under her womanly softness lay the absolutism which was in the Bourbon
blood. Like Charles, she was called upon to weather a storm which she had
not raised, and she had not inherited with her father's temperament and
charm his unrivalled political sagacity. Moreover, she had to win her
private happiness by humouring a despotic and difficult-tempered man, and
she could hardly be expected to recognize that that man, in marrying her,
had made, on public grounds, the greatest mistake of his life. James I,
whose ideas were always too large for his circumstances, had dreamed of
securing England's place in the comity of nations by marrying his son to
the daughter of one of the great Catholic houses. The result was not
increased honour abroad, but hatred at home, such hatred as Henrietta in
her early life was unable even to suspect. Accustomed in her own land to
see Catholic and Protestant dwelling at least outwardly in peace together,
knowing that the Catholic faith was professed at most of the Courts and
among most of the peoples of Europe, she could not appreciate the
insularity of the English mind which saw in every Catholic a political
assassin wearing the colours of the Pope and the King of Spain; nor was she
aware of the historical facts, which if they did not justify, at least
explained this point of view. And as she failed to understand England, so
she failed to understand Europe. The outstanding fact of continental
politics was the long duel which was going on between France and the House
of Austria. France was eventually to be the victor, but it was to be a hard
struggle, and few were sharp-sighted enough to see in the splendid Spain of
Philip IV the signs of a decadence which had already set in. But
Henrietta's blindness was more than a dimness of sight, which she shared
with Cromwell and others of the great ones of her age. It hid from her that
which it was essential to her to know, namely, that this struggle underlay
the whole policy of her native land. Thus she failed to understand the real
causes of the enmity with which Richelieu came to regard her and her
husband, and thus in later days she was unable to grasp the attitude of
Mazarin, or to appreciate why it was impossible that he should give her the
fullness of succour for which she asked.
Had she been a Protestant and a woman of profound sagacity, she might have
saved her husband. As it was, by her reckless defiance of forces whose
strength she was unable to appreciate, she hurried him to his doom. She
lived at a great moment, and she had no greatness to meet it. Herein alone
is her condemnation. She has received more than her fair share of blame,
for she has been made the scapegoat of Charles' faults. The tragedy of her
fate rivals that of Mary Stuart or of Marie Antoinette, but she missed the
historical felicity of a violent death, so that she has failed to touch the
popular imagination. Had she done so, the most charming queen who ever sat
upon the English throne, the daughter of the man whom France still adores,
would have been saved from a verdict at the tribunal of posterity which, if
not altogether unjust, is totally inadequate.
HENRIETTA MARIA
CHAPTER I
THE DAUGHTER OF FRANCE
In this more than kingly state
Love himself shall on me wait.
Fill to me, Love, nay, fill it up;
And mingled cast into the cup
Wit and mirth and noble fires,
Vigorous health and gay desires.
ABRAHAM COWLEY
On a May morning in the year of grace 1625, a young girl, watching in the
Château of the Louvre in the city of Paris, was awaiting the greatest event
which had yet come to disturb the tenor of her life; for, before the sun
had set, she, Henrietta Maria of France, would be the betrothed wife of
Charles, King of England.
It was a brilliant match for the little Princess, the youngest child of
Henry IV, King of France, and of his wife Mary de' Medici of the great
Florentine House: she owed it in part to the far-reaching policy of the
father she had never known, and in part to the exertions of her mother and
of a new favourite of that lady, M. de Richelieu. As she was only fifteen
years old[1] she was, perhaps, too young to enter into the political aspect
of the matter, but she was fully alive to the social and ceremonial
advantages to which it would entitle her: a few years before she had gazed
with envy at the honours prepared for her elder sister, Christine, the
bride of Savoy: now she could afford to think of them almost with contempt,
for, to her, the bride of proud England, far more splendid homage was about
to be offered. Nor, though the bridegroom was absent and both betrothal and
wedding would have to be by proxy, was he unknown. Henrietta had seen him
when he was in Paris on the return journey of his romantic expedition to
Spain, and she knew that he was a tall and proper man, handsome in face and
royal in bearing, with a certain melancholy persuasiveness of address which
not even a slight stammer could spoil. "I do not think he need have gone
quite so far as Spain for a bride," she had said then, with the freedom of
her tender years; even now, nearly a year later, she felt such an interest
in her prospective bridegroom, that by the help of an old servant she
borrowed his portrait from one of the English envoys who was accustomed to
wear it round his neck, and, having carried it off to her private
apartments, she gazed at it for the space of an hour, blushing the while at
her own audacity.
Of Henrietta's childhood there is little to record; as one of her
biographers sadly remarks, her troubles began before she could know them,
for she was not a year old when her noble-hearted father perished by the
knife of Ravaillac. Her early years were passed under the care of her
mother, who, though she was solicitous for the child's health and
education, and reared her with the state due to a daughter of France,[2] is
said to have cared much less for her than for her elder sister Christine: a
sister still older, the beautiful and high-minded Elizabeth, left her
native country to become the unhappy wife of Philip IV of Spain, while
Henrietta was still too young a child to retain much personal memory of
her; but touching letters remain written from the desolate grandeur of
Madrid to show how fondly Elizabeth's heart clung to the pretty child she
had left in Paris, for whose portrait she begs, and to whom she sends
little gifts such as some toys for the toilet of her dolls, "so that when
you play you may remember me."[3] The two sisters never met again, and
the Spanish princess who came to France in Elizabeth's stead was a poor
exchange for her, even if Henrietta, who was possessed of a sparkling and
somewhat biting wit, had not been fond of exercising it upon her brother's
demure wife, with whom her mother was never on good terms.
That Henrietta's childhood was, in the main, healthy and happy, cannot be
doubted. In person she resembled her father more than did either of her
sisters, and she had inherited also his gay disposition. Her days were
passed in one beautiful château or another, either the Louvre or the
Luxembourg, or S. Germain-en-Laye, with its beautiful forest and its
terrace overlooking the Seine. Her governess was the kind and faithful
Madame de Montglas, who had tended not only her, but her brothers and
sisters from their earliest years; and if she failed in some degree to win
her mother's heart, with others she was more fortunate. Christine left her
when her years numbered but ten, but so strong was the tie of the common
childhood of the sisters, that they corresponded warmly to the end of their
lives. Her relations with her brothers were very affectionate, and the
King, in particular, cherished her as his favourite sister, probably on
account of her ready wit, a quality which, like many people who are dull
themselves, he greatly admired. Finally, her charms invited a suitor while
she was still almost a child, in the person of the Count of Soissons, a
scion of the royal house, who may well have been as much enamoured of the
dark, sparkling eyes which were the little Princess's chief beauty, as of
her position as a daughter of France.
There is, however, one sentence in an old biography of Henrietta which
shows her youth in another and a sadder aspect. Young as she was at the
time of her marriage, it appears that already she had had to learn the
difficult art of adjusting her conduct to the requirements of Court
factions and family dissensions.[4] Her childhood was cast in the stormy
times which followed the removal of the strong hand of Henry IV. Her
mother, whose lead she followed in the main, was a foolish woman under the
domination of unworthy favourites, until by good fortune she fell in with
Richelieu. It would be impossible to give here even an outline of the
history of the events which in 1617 drove Mary de Medici in disgrace from
her son's Court. It must suffice to point out that until her return in
triumph in 1621 her little daughter had some difficulty in reconciling the
respective claims of her mother and her brother, and in preserving the
favour of both.
It was not long after this return that negotiations for a matrimonial
alliance with England were opened, and thereupon Henrietta became for the
first time a person of political importance. Her mother learned to
appreciate her wit and beauty, and Richelieu, whose reign was just
beginning, looked upon her with interest as a co-operator in his schemes
for the humiliation of the House of Austria and of the French Protestants,
objects which he thought would be considerably furthered by the union of
Henrietta with the heir of England.
In due time two envoys-extraordinary arrived from England to carry out the
negotiations for the marriage. They were both very fine gentlemen, but the
elder, the Earl of Carlisle, who was a Scotchman and an able diplomatist,
on whom most of the real work of the mission fell, was in social matters
quite outshone by his junior, the Lord Kensington, shortly to become Earl
of Holland,[5] who was the handsomest man of his time and accounted so
fascinating that he was the despair of jealous husbands. He was a great
connoisseur in female beauty, and was smiled upon by Madame de Chevreuse,
the most brilliant woman of the French Court; but he was kind enough to
approve of Henrietta, and he sent home to the bridegroom-elect such glowing
accounts of her beauty as roused that rather cold person to a fever of
expectation. She was, he wrote, "the sweetest creature in France. Her
growth is very little short of her age, and her wisdom infinitely beyond
it. I heard her discourse with her mother and the ladies about her with
extraordinary discretion and quickness. She dances (the which I am a
witness of) as well as ever I saw any creature. They say she sings very
sweetly. I am sure she looks so."[6] To the Duke of Buckingham, who at this
time entirely governed Charles' mind, he wrote an equally enthusiastic
account, praising the Princess as a "lovely sweet young creature," who, if
she was not tall in stature, was "perfect in shape."[7]
Marriage negotiations between royal persons are always lengthy, and in this
case there was the additional difficulty of the difference of religion
between the contracting parties, which necessitated a dispensation from the
Pope. But James of England eagerly desired the alliance, seeing in it a
means of winning back the Palatinate for his daughter's husband, a hope
which was encouraged by the diplomacy of Richelieu, who probably also
worked upon the mind of Mary de' Medici, so that, in spite of her bigoted
attachment to the Roman Catholic Church, the whole weight of her now
powerful influence was thrown on the side of the marriage. Father Bérulle,
the founder of the French Oratory, who was a great friend of hers, was sent
to Rome to procure a dispensation from Urban VIII. Arrangements were made
to secure Henrietta's religion and morals in the heretic country to which
she was going, and it was provided that she should have the bringing up of
her children until they reached the age of twelve years. Finally, secret
articles[8] were inserted in the marriage treaty, in which James of England
and his son promised that toleration should be granted to the English
Catholics. Everything seemed settled, and all was rejoicing both in England
and France, except for two malcontents: the Spanish Ambassador in Paris
stood sullenly aloof, "who, without question, doth not well like that
England and France should bee joyned together with such a firme
alliance,"[9] and the Count of Soissons was so angry and disappointed at
the loss of his bride that he refused to treat Lord Kensington with common
courtesy, savagely declaring that the negotiations went so near his heart
that were the Englishman not the ambassador of so great a King, he would
cut his throat.
Henrietta herself was well pleased, and her cheerful countenance reflected
her content. She exchanged a number of quaint and rather formal
love-letters with her future husband, who sometimes employed as his
intermediary a young protégé of Buckingham, by name Walter Montagu, who was
destined to a singular career and to a lifelong friendship with the
Princess, whom he now saw for the first time. In March, 1625, he left Paris
and returned to England carrying the good news that all was forward, and
that the lady should be delivered in thirty days. He was able to supplement
Holland's description of the charms of the Princess, for, like that
nobleman, he was something of a connoisseur in such matters. "I have made
the Prince in love with every hair on Madame's head,"[10] he wrote
cheerfully to Carlisle. So eager was the bridegroom that he would not allow
the match to be stayed for the final settlement of the details of the
dispensation.
But just as everything was ready an event of another character occurred to
retard matters again. On March 27th, 1625, King James died, and the
question arose as to whether the wedding could be celebrated during the
period of mourning. However, as Henrietta could hardly be expected to feel
acutely the death of an unknown father-in-law which made her a queen, and
as Charles' impatience for his bride overcame any scruples with regard to
decorum, it was settled that the great event should take place in the
ensuing May. The decision that the bridegroom should not be present in
person at the ceremony was probably a disappointment to Henrietta. It had
been suggested that he should come over to France, but the proposal had not
met with approval on either side of the Channel, the English thinking it
beneath their King's dignity to seek his bride in a foreign land, and the
French fearing, with good reason, the expense of such a guest. The
selection of a proxy caused some difficulty. Charles wished that his great
friend, the Duke of Buckingham, should impersonate him on this interesting
occasion, but that nobleman, for private reasons which will be explained
below, was not agreeable to the French Court. The choice finally fell upon
the Duke of Chevreuse,[11] who was at once a high-born Frenchman and a
relative of the King of England, being a prince of the House of Lorraine,
and thus connected with Charles' great-grandmother, Mary of Guise. In spite
of his high rank he was a person of sufficient obscurity, and chiefly
remarkable as the husband of his brilliant wife.
The betrothal was solemnized on May 8th, which happened to be the Feast of
the Ascension. The ceremony took place in the Louvre in the King's own
room, which was elaborately fitted up for the occasion, and where, in the
late afternoon, he appeared as (we are told) "a beautiful sun which shines
above all others."[12] Lesser lights were present in the persons of his
wife, his only brother Gaston, Duke of Orleans, and a crowd of noblemen,
all of whom waited impatiently for the bride-elect, who at last appeared,
attended by her mother and by Madame de Chevreuse. Henrietta entered the
room with a dignity worthy of the occasion and of the great race from which
she was sprung. Her magnificent dress, which perhaps a little eclipsed her
girlish beauty, consisted of a robe of cloth of gold and silver thickly
sprinkled with golden fleurs-de-lis and enriched by diamonds and other
precious stones. This wonderful garment was further adorned by a long train
carried by the little Mademoiselle de Bourbon, the Madame de Longueville of
later days, who at this time was so young that she could only nominally
fulfil her office, while the long, heavy folds were really supported by
Madame de Montglas' daughter, Madame S. Georges, who was to accompany the
young Queen to England.
Henrietta's entry was followed by that of the two English Ambassadors and
the proxy bridegroom. Then, after the signing and countersigning of the
articles of marriage, the betrothal ceremony was solemnized according to
the rites of the Church by Cardinal de Rochefoucault, Grand Almoner of the
King of France. In the evening a ball was held in the Louvre, while outside
the firing of cannon and the letting off of fireworks testified to the
public rejoicing.
It was not until three days later, on May 11th, that the actual wedding
took place.[13] The church chosen for the religious ceremony was the
Cathedral of Notre-Dame, which was adorned with hangings of silk and
tapestry and of cloth of gold, to hide as far as possible the lines of the
Gothic architecture which was condemned by the taste of the day. Every
detail of the ceremony[14] was arranged when an unfortunate difficulty
arose which caused much ill-feeling and considerable trouble.
Jean François de Gondi, a member of one of those Italian families which had
found fortune in France in the wake of a foreign Queen, now occupied the
See of Paris. He was the first of the long line of bishops of the capital
to receive the honours of archiepiscopal rank, and, as his character, which
has been sketched for us by his candid nephew, Cardinal de Retz, was at
once feeble and vainglorious, it is probable that his head was a little
turned. His anger, therefore, may be imagined when he discovered that he
was not to officiate at a wedding which took place at his own cathedral,
but was to be set aside for the Cardinal de Rochefoucault. Mingled with
personal pique was the bitter feeling of the infringement of the rights of
the episcopate. He summoned all the prelates who were then in Paris to a
meeting, and they joined with him in presenting a petition on the subject
to the King. But Louis and the Cardinal (who had provided himself with a
brief from the Pope which, however, was not produced) stood firm; and the
upshot of the affair was that the Archbishop, though he was forced to give
way and was much blamed by his clergy for doing so, was nevertheless so
angry that he went off to the country, refusing to have anything to do with
the wedding, and leaving the nuptial mass to be said by his senior
suffragan, the Bishop of Chartres.
But this was not the worst. The absence of the Archbishop might have been
supported with philosophy, but the strike extended not only to the Chapter,
but even to such indispensable people as the singing-men, who, at the last
moment, had to be hurriedly replaced by singers from the King's cabinet and
chapel.
The English alliance was very popular in Paris. It was remembered that if
the bridegroom was King of England and a heretic, he was also a Scotchman
born and the grandson of the much-loved Mary of Scotland, who, it was
said, was doubtless praying in heaven for his conversion. Another side of
the general satisfaction was expressed by poetic references to the union of
the sister of Mars with Neptune, the King of the Waves, which, it was
hoped, would bring about a happy state of things when
"toute la Terre
Soit aux François et Anglois."[15]
It is not surprising, therefore, that the early hours of the great day saw
the _parvis_ of Notre-Dame crowded with spectators waiting patiently under
the rain of an inclement May morning. The concourse was so great that the
neighbouring streets had to be secured by barriers and patrolled by the
Swiss Guard to make free passage for the coaches of the nobility which were
perpetually arriving at the doors of the cathedral to deposit their loads
of gaily dressed ladies.
Meanwhile, what of the bride for whom all this was prepared? She had spent
the previous day at her mother's favourite convent, that of the Carmelite
nuns whom Bérulle had "fetched out of Spain" to place in a house of the
Faubourg S. Jacques. There her mother's friend, Mother Magdeleine of S.
Joseph, gave her a great deal of advice, seasoned with much piety and some
judgment. Thence she returned to pass the night at the Louvre, and to spend
a quiet morning, until at about two o'clock on the afternoon of her
wedding-day she set out for the Archbishop's palace, which that dignitary,
in spite of his chagrin, had placed at the disposal of the wedding-party.
There in the fine old house overlooking the Seine, which two hundred years
later was to fall a victim to the fury of the Parisian mob,[16] Henrietta
spent several hours in putting on the same magnificent dress which she had
worn at her betrothal, so that five o'clock had already struck when her
brother the King came to fetch her that he might conduct her to the
cathedral.
The procession was drawn up. First came an officer known as the captain of
the gate, behind whom walked a hundred men of the King's Swiss Guard, drums
beating and banners flying. They were followed by the band, which was so
effective that while the hautbois ravished the ears of those who heard
them, the drums would have stirred the most faint-hearted to courage. As to
the trumpets, they made the hearts of the listeners leap for joy within
their bodies.
At last, after heralds, marshals, peers, and dukes, after the proxy
bridegroom and the Ambassadors from England, came the central figure of the
procession, the bride herself, supported by her two brothers, one of whom
was also her King.
The sickly, depressed Louis XIII, notwithstanding his magnificent dress of
_cramoisi_ velvet, so thickly covered with cloth of gold that the
foundation hardly appeared, afforded a sad contrast to the splendid
vitality of his little sister, whose dark curls were adorned by a crown of
gold set with diamonds, and bearing in front an enormous pearl of
inestimable value. The train of her royal mantle, which was of velvet and
cloth of gold, embroidered with fleurs-de-lis, was carried by the
Princesses of Condé and Conti and by the Countess of Soissons, the mother
of the rejected lover, who had asked and obtained leave to absent himself
from the ceremony. So heavy was it that to give the bride greater comfort
an officer walked under it and supported it with his head and hands. Gaston
of Orleans, who was at his sister's left hand, was not allowed to rival his
sovereign in apparel, for a rule had been made that the King, the Duke of
Chevreuse, and the Earls of Carlisle and Holland should be the only
gentlemen to appear in cloth of gold. He had to content himself with silk.
The rear was brought up by the two Queens, the elder plainly dressed in
black, relieved by splendid jewels; the younger magnificent in cloth of
gold and silver. A crowd of highly born ladies followed, among whom may be
mentioned Mademoiselle de Montpensier, the rich heiress whom Gaston of
Orleans was to wed reluctantly a year later, and Madame de Chevreuse, who,
no doubt, cast admiring glances at the handsome face and figure of her
lover, the Earl of Holland.
The wedding ceremony was not to take place in the church but, in accordance
with the old ritual of matrimony, on a platform erected outside the west
door,[17] which was connected with the archiepiscopal palace by a long
wooden gallery upholstered in beautiful tapestry. On this platform, under a
canopy of cloth of gold, Cardinal de Rochefoucault was waiting to receive
the bride, while from the stands which had been put up round the _parvis_,
and from the windows of the tall neighbouring houses, eager heads were
thrust forward to catch a glimpse of the procession as it wound along in
the sunshine which had succeeded the rainy morning. Henrietta, the Duke of
Chevreuse, and the royal party ascended the platform. The short marriage
ceremony was gone through, and immediately on its conclusion an English
gentleman who was present, by name George Goring,[18] set off to carry to
the King of England, as quickly as relays of the swiftest horses would
allow, the tidings of his own marriage.
The new Queen only lingered at the church door to receive the kneeling
homage of the English Ambassadors. Then, accompanied by her mother, her
brothers, and the rest of the wedding-party, she entered the great
church.[19] There awaited her not only the nobility of France, but also
such dignitaries as the provost of the merchants, the aldermen of the city
of Paris, and the rector of the university, while "Messieurs du Parlement"
had, with some difficulty, made good their claim to be present in a body.
All eyes were turned upon the bride as she moved along another richly
decorated gallery, which conducted her to a dais in the chancel from which
she was to hear the nuptial Mass. It was past seven o'clock before the
offertory was reached, an almost unprecedented hour at which to say Mass,
and many may have envied the heretic Ambassadors who were able to retire
for a brief rest, owing to their unwillingness to be present at a popish
service. The only consideration shown for Henrietta was that she was not
required to communicate, as it was thought that to fast until that late
hour and to undergo at the same time so much fatigue and excitement might
prove injurious to her health.
But even when the Mass was over there was no rest to be had. That evening
saw the Archbishop's palace turned into a scene of royal festivity. In the
hall the banquet was spread. At the middle of the table sat the King, with
his mother on his right hand and his sister, the queen of a day, on his
left. The Duke of Chevreuse and the English Ambassadors were privileged to
sit down with the royal party, which was waited on by "our lords the
princes, dukes, peers, and marshals of France," who did not disdain to
bring in the meats for the feast. Outside in the May darkness all Paris was
_en fête_. Bonfires and fireworks were to be seen in every street, so that
it seemed that never had there been such rejoicings as at the marriage of
Princess Henrietta.
It might have been expected that the newly married Queen would have set off
at once for her adopted country, but, on the contrary, there were
considerable delays caused, it was believed, by the Pope's agents, who were
annoyed that the marriage had taken place before the details of the
dispensation had been settled.[20] When these difficulties had been
overcome the King fell ill, and it seems probable that the departure would
have been postponed even longer than was the case had not an event occurred
to hasten it, namely, the arrival in Paris of an unexpected and most
unwelcome guest, George, Duke of Buckingham.
This extraordinary person, whose career reads like a fairy story, was at
this time at the height of his fame. His handsome face and a certain
careless magnificence of manner, which might almost have passed for
magnanimity, were greatly admired, and if he showed at times the insolence
of the parvenu, much was condoned, at least outwardly, in the man who was
the acknowledged favourite of the King of England, and who was able to
appear in almost regal splendour, decked out, it was even said, by the
jewels of England. He was already well known in Paris, and in the few days
he had spent there in 1624, between Madrid and London, he had made an
ineffaceable impression upon at least one heart.
Few royal stories are sadder than that of Anne of Austria, the queen of
Louis XIII. Married as a mere child to an apathetic boy, she neither knew
how to win his love nor how to adapt herself to the requirements of her
position. Neglected by her husband, bullied by her mother-in-law, and later
by Richelieu, she may almost be forgiven for her treasonable correspondence
with the enemies of France. Still less can she be blamed that her heart
clung too fondly to the relatives she had left in Madrid. To the end of her
days she remained a Spaniard, _dévote_ and fanatical beyond the liking of
the lively Parisians; a Spaniard also in her unconquerable coquetry. The
ladies of her mother's Court, shut up in almost monastical seclusion, were
accustomed to amuse themselves during the long hours which intervened
between the various religious exercises by dwelling on and recounting in
every detail their conquests of the men whom they seldom saw except in the
silence of a church or among the crowds of a Court ceremony. Anne, coming
from such a life, was unable to understand at once the greater liberty and
the greater decorum of French manners. She was beautiful, and she was
gifted with a pair of soft, white, exquisitely modelled hands, so that she
was able to command the flattery which she loved. Many a gallant worshipped
at a distance, but none dared to pay her attentions which seriously
compromised her until the English favourite crossed her path.
The true story of the loves of these two is not fully known. It died with
them and with those in whom they confided; but it is probable that during
Buckingham's first visit to Paris something was suspected, and that this
was the real reason of the refusal to receive him as the proxy of the King
of England. When it was known that he had arrived, uninvited, the wrath of
his unwilling hosts was so great that it was only through the intervention
of Madame de Chevreuse, the devoted friend of Queen Anne, and the
representations of the English Ambassadors that he obtained a reception
befitting his rank.
The Duke urged strongly the immediate departure of the bride; and though it
was felt that such a desire for haste was indelicate, yet the French royal
family, with one exception, was so anxious to see the last of him, that
they were fain to comply. Henrietta, probably, was not consulted. She was a
pawn in the political game, and she was still too young to assert herself.
Perhaps she was in no hurry to be gone. She clung to her home and her
country, and the waiting time was made very pleasant by festivities in
which, for the first time, she tasted the pleasures of her queenly rank.
All were splendid; but probably the most magnificent was an entertainment
offered by Richelieu to the three queens during the indisposition of the
King. It took place at the Luxembourg, that monument of the Italian
renaissance within Paris, which was built for Mary de' Medici in her
widowhood to remind her of her own Florentine palace, whose beautiful
gardens, unchanged since her day, remain to witness to the taste of
gardeners before Le Nôtre.[21] On this occasion the spacious rooms were
magnificently decorated. The most skilful musicians which Paris could
furnish had been procured, and the ears of the guests were delighted by
choice music, both vocal and instrumental, while the courtly host employed
all the grace and charm which he had ever at command to fascinate the three
royal ladies, and particularly the young Queen of England, who was inclined
to look upon him with favour as in some sort the author of her marriage.
Finally, at the close of the entertainment all went out into the gardens to
witness a display of fireworks, "the most superb and the most beautiful
invention which had been seen for a long time."[22] The Cardinal, who had
given the fête to mark his satisfaction at the issue of his diplomacy, had
cause to congratulate himself upon its success. As Queen Henrietta said
good-bye to him with grateful cordiality, he bent his keen glance upon her
and saw in her another subservient tool of his ambition, as she saw in him
her protector and her friend. Neither the statesman nor the Queen could
read the secrets of the future, nor know that each would come to regard the
other as an enemy.
At last, when May had passed into June, the day came which witnessed the
Queen of England's departure from Paris. The King, who was still far from
well, determined, nevertheless, to see his sister on her way as far as
Compiègne, and apart from his royal presence she had goodly attendance. It
included the Queen-Mother and her second son Gaston, both of whom intended
to accompany the bride to the coast; the Queen Consort, who, against the
advice of her best friends, could not tear herself from the fascinating
company of Buckingham; the Duke of Chevreuse, and M. de Ville-aux-Clercs,
who were commissioned by the King of France to deliver over his sister to
her royal husband. Finally, Madame de Chevreuse, who had asked and obtained
permission to accompany the bride to her new home for a reason similar to
that which actuated her friend Queen Anne--namely, the love which she bore
to the Earl of Holland.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Henrietta left the Louvre to set
out on her journey to England. Her brother, who, perhaps to dazzle the more
homely English, had spared no expense on her trousseau and equipment, had
provided for her personal use a magnificent litter upholstered within and
without in red _cramoisi_ velvet, which was relieved by the gold embroidery
of the cushions and curtains. It was drawn by two fine mules, gorgeous in
their red velvet cloths, and with white aigrettes nodding merrily on their
heads. They were led by a muleteer who was handsomely dressed, and who rode
another richly caparisoned mule. The trappings of the rest of the party
were also splendid in proportion to their rank. A brave escort saw on her
way the daughter of Henry IV. Archers and guards turned out to do her
honour, and by her side rode that great civic dignitary, "M. le prevost des
Marchands." To the sound of martial music went the gay cavalcade, through
the narrow streets of old Paris up to the Porte S. Denys, and so beyond the
wall, which still guarded the city, into the suburbs. Working men and
women, leaving their toil, lined the road, many of whom looking on the fair
child who was leaving them, and having no expectation of seeing her again,
could not restrain their weeping.
[Illustration: FROM AN ENGRAVING AFTER THE PICTURE BY FRANCIS POURBUS]
Half-way to S. Denys the party halted. The provost of the merchants
delivered a weary discourse, "full of matter," and then bidding Henrietta
farewell he turned back to Paris with his escort. The rest pushed on. There
was no time to wait at S. Denys, where the dust of Henrietta's father lay,
and whither her own dead body was to be carried nearly half a century
later. The summer evening was drawing in, and it was thought wiser to go on
to Stains, where a night's rest awaited the bride, who may well have been
fatigued by the toils of this exciting day.
The first considerable town through which the royal party passed was
Amiens. This great city, "the metropolis and key of all Picardy," was
determined, notwithstanding its depressed financial position, to give the
three Queens, no one of whom had ever before been within its walls, a
splendid reception. This resolve was all the more loyal as the
consideration of the King had only indicated a few simple tokens of
respect, such as a reception by the aldermen, as obligatory on the
occasion. It was late in the afternoon before the royal ladies and their
train approached the city, for they were much delayed by the concourse of
people who came out to see them. Not far from the city gates they were met
by the Governor, the Duke of Chaulnes, who brought with him three hundred
horsemen whose steeds, we are told, were of the same race as those sung by
the poets--whose eyes and nostrils emitted flames and fire. Of the
cavaliers each might have been taken for chief and leader, so splendid were
they all. Accompanied by this dashing cavalcade the cortège swept on, to be
met on its way by a troop of archers bearing an ensign with the device of a
cupid, by the youth of the city drawn up in companies, and finally by six
thousand of the mature citizens, whose martial discipline was the
admiration of all. By a wise precaution no salvos were fired until the
royal party was safely passed, for experience had shown that, though only
two or three horses might be frightened, yet they were sufficient to cause
unseemly disturbance.
After the formal greeting had been given to the guests at the gate of the
city by the mayor and aldermen, a ceremony took place specially designed in
compliment to the bride of the island King. Fifty young girls, all pretty
and some very beautiful, dressed up to represent the demi-goddesses of the
sea, came to hail Henrietta as Thetis, queen of the waves, sitting upon the
throne of her litter which had brought her from the banks of the Seine, and
to whom, in token of humble submission, they presented the keys of the
city. So great was the crush to see this sight that the gentleman to whom
we owe the story of the details of the day[23] was unable to get near
enough to hear the speeches of the marine goddesses. The crowds in the
streets were great, and as there were neither archers nor Swiss, as at
Paris, to range the people against the houses and to keep a clear passage,
the confusion was considerable; but it was not allowed to interfere with
the programme drawn up by the loyal people of Amiens. Henrietta saw not
only triumphal arches and columns in abundance, but also curious
allegorical ceremonies in the taste of the times. She beheld Jason, who,
after fighting with fire-breathing bulls, bore off triumphant the golden
fleece, and in whom she was to recognize an impersonation of her husband,
Charles of England. She listened to the hymeneal god, who, attended by
nymphs, stepped forward and, to the accompaniment of sweet music, sang a
wedding-song specially composed for the occasion. The last three verses,
notwithstanding their extravagance of compliment, are so fresh and charming
as to be worthy of the pretty bride to whom they were addressed.
"Mais que fais je par ces carmes
Vous arrestant en ces lieux
C'est que je suis pris aux charmes
Que vous avez dans les yeux.
"Allez, j'ay peur que vous-mesme
Nous emportiez votre coeur;
Vous portez un diademe
Soubs un front toujours vainquer.
"Ne demeurez, ie vieux suyvre
Mon coeur ne sera rétif,
C'est glorieusement vivre
Que d'estre en vos mains captif."[24]
Henrietta looked and smiled and listened. She was new to such honours, and
it was pleasant to be for the moment a greater person than her stern mother
or her stately sister-in-law. But the rejoicings were long-drawn-out, and
she must have been very weary before they culminated in a joyous _Te Deum_
sung in the cathedral, which, like Notre-Dame in Paris, had been disfigured
as much as possible with pictures and hangings. Nor even then were her
toils over. Long and dreary speeches awaited her, to which she had to
listen with some show of interest, before at last she could lie down to
rest.
Henrietta's innocent dreams were perhaps of Jason and the goddesses of the
sea; but there were those about her whose pillows were haunted by visions
of a very different character.
Had all France been searched through it would have been difficult to find a
more undesirable friend and adviser for a young married woman than Marie de
Rohan, once Duchess of Luynes, and now by her second marriage Duchess of
Chevreuse. Beautiful, unscrupulous, and gifted with a remarkable talent for
diplomacy, which enabled her to give effect to her audacious schemes, she
had little difficulty in recommending herself to Henrietta, into whose
young mind she dropped seeds of distrust and of a love of crooked ways
which were to bear fruit in the future. It was not her fault if other seeds
failed to ripen there, and if the purity of the little bride's mind was
proof against the evil example of certain events which occurred during the
few days of the halt at Amiens.
The city had no house large enough to accommodate the three Queens. The
Queen-Mother, as befitted her age and dignity, was lodged in the episcopal
palace, while Henrietta and her sister-in-law had to find apartments
elsewhere. The bride's domicile is not known, but to Queen Anne and her
attendants was allotted a fine house with gardens sloping down to the River
Somme. In these gardens took place a famous scene destined to influence
several lives, and among them that of Henrietta Maria.
Already at a ball given by the Duchess of Chaulnes the animation and
brilliant looks of the Queen of France had been remarked, and ill-natured
people were not lacking who saw in the English duke, who had danced on that
evening with infinite grace, the magician able to rouse her from the
listlessness which usually spoiled her undoubted beauty. Such public
meetings were safe enough, but Buckingham was constantly at the Queen's
lodgings. One evening, in company with Madame de Chevreuse and the Earl of
Holland, he was paying his respects when Anne, who, remembering the soft,
scented nights of her native land, loved to wander abroad after dusk,
invited him to enjoy with her the cool beauty of the June twilight. Their
companions, who were carrying on their own flirtation under the cloak of
another's, followed, but, perhaps intentionally, they lagged behind, so
that the royal lady found herself alone with her bold admirer in a dark,
winding walk. Suddenly the silence of the evening was broken by a shrill
cry. The Queen's equerry, who was in attendance at a discreet distance,
rushed up to find his mistress in a state of trembling agitation, and the
duke so red and confused that he was glad to make his escape as quickly as
possible. There were, of course, explanations and excuses. The matter came
to the ears of the Queen-Mother, who, worn out by her exertions, was lying
seriously ill; she helped to hush up the scandal, and both Anne and
Buckingham seemed, for the moment, to escape easily; but it was felt that
they must part at once, and the duke, with a tact which he sometimes
displayed, began to talk of the King of England's impatience to see his
bride, and to hint that it was not necessary to wait for the Queen-Mother's
recovery.
Henrietta, the sport of others less innocent than herself, knelt to receive
her mother's last blessing. That lady, touched by some real maternal
feeling, bade her a tender farewell, pressing into her hand a letter which
the girl found, when she came to read it, to be full of the most admirable
sentiments of piety and virtue and of excellent advice as to her conduct in
the married state. She probably knew Mary de' Medici too well to attribute
this composition to her, and perhaps no one attempted to disguise the fact
that its author was the pious Father Bérulle who was going with her to
England in the capacity of confessor.[25]
Through Abbeville, with its soaring cathedral, through picturesque
Montreuil, Henrietta came to Boulogne, whence she was to cross to England,
as the plague was reigning at Calais. Though it was June, the weather was
wild and stormy, and a further delay was inevitable. Buckingham, forgetful
of all propriety, careless of the trust confided to him by his friend and
King, took advantage of this delay to steal back, on a frivolous pretext,
to Amiens, and to Anne. His audacity little availed him. After one brief
agitated interview he had to tear himself from his idol, whom he never saw
again.
During the waiting time at Boulogne, Henrietta made acquaintance with some
of her new subjects who had crossed the Channel to meet her, and who were
greatly disappointed when they found her without her mother and
sister-in-law, for, as one of them wrote, they had looked forward to seeing
beauty not only in the future tense, but in the present and the
preterperfect as well.[26] Buckingham, who up till now had been too
occupied with Anne to pay much attention to the bride, and who was too much
of a man of the world to care for the "future tense" of beauty, now, it
seems, bethought him of winning the favour of the Queen of England.
Certainly he secured a flattering reception for his mother, the Countess of
Buckingham, who improved the occasion of her visit to France by reconciling
herself to the Church of Rome. In later days Henrietta did not like the
lady, but at this first introduction she received her "with strange
courtesy and favour."[27] Nor was she alone in her kindness. Gaston of
Orleans, who, in his mother's enforced detention at Amiens, had adhered to
his plan of escorting his sister to the coast, paid the English lady the
unusual compliment of visiting her, and the haughty and high-born Madame de
Chevreuse actually waived her right of precedence in favour of the
Buckinghams, whose family was of yesterday. It need hardly be said that
such courtesy was greatly relished by the English visitors, who found no
drawback to the happy intercourse with their new friends except in the
Countess' ignorance of the French tongue. But even this difficulty was got
over by the presence at Boulogne of Sir Tobie Matthew, who, though the son
of a Protestant archbishop, was a Catholic and a citizen of the world whose
linguistic talents, which were much admired in continental circles, were
joined to a refined culture which rendered him a fitting intermediary
between these distinguished persons. Fortunately all his time was not taken
up by such duties, and he employed his leisure very profitably in writing a
long letter to a lady acquaintance, which contains the fullest account we
possess of Henrietta in her early youth before the cares of married life
had come upon her.
Sir Tobie's ready and subtle pen drew such a sketch of the young Queen as,
interpreted by the future, shows him to have been a keen analyst of
character. Henrietta had grown a good deal during the past year; and though
she was still small, "she sits," he wrote, "upon the very skirts of
womanhood." Her mind and character were as yet undeveloped; but in the
mingled gentleness and wit of her conversation, in the sweet courtesy shown
to her inferiors, in the faithful affection which clung to the mother she
had left, finally, in the courage and enterprise which, to the despair of
her attendants, tempted her to a sea-trip in an open boat with her brother
Gaston, we recognize the woman of later days, as in the girl of fifteen we
see the beautiful queen of Van Dyck's portraits. "Upon my faith," wrote the
worthy knight, giving utterance to a prophecy which unfortunately was not
completely fulfilled, "she is a most sweet, lively nature, and hath a
countenance which opens a window into her heart, where a man may see all
nobleness and goodness; and I dare venture my head (upon the little skill I
have in physiognomy) that she will be extraordinarily beloved by our nation
and deserve to be so, and that the actions of her life which are to be her
owne will be excellent."[28]
At length, after nearly three weeks of waiting, during which Henrietta's
health and spirits flagged a little, the twenty-second day of June dawned
calm and fair, and it was decided that the voyage should be made.
Heretofore the Queen of England had been her brother's guest, but now, on
the eve of embarking, she was delivered over to the care of the Duke of
Buckingham, and the deed of consignation was signed by that nobleman and by
the two French Ambassadors, to witness that the responsibility of the
latter was ended. After the little ceremony the Queen was escorted to the
quay by her brother. She went on board the beautiful ship, _The Prince_,
which her husband had sent for her. The preparations for departure were
quickly made. The moment came when she clung in a last embrace to Gaston.
Then the sails were unfurled, and _The Prince_ rode proudly out of Boulogne
harbour. As Henrietta stood gazing upon the rapidly receding cliffs of
France, did any foreboding of the future come over her, any presage of
coming grief such as weighed upon the heart of her husband's grandmother,
Mary of Scotland, on a similar occasion? Did any shadow of that day nearly
twenty years later, when, a fugitive pursued by unrelenting foes, she would
see again her native land, darken her spirit? We cannot tell. We only know
that she had a moment's _serrement de coeur_, such as any girl might feel
on leaving home, and that she was a little afraid of sea-sickness.
No inconvenience, however, arose. Charles' care had caused his bride's
cabin to be so beautified that she might have imagined herself in her own
Louvre rather than on the sea; and to complete the illusion a choice
concert of delicate instruments and sweet voices was in readiness to amuse
her. Moreover, no precaution was omitted which might ensure the safety of
so precious a freight. _The Prince_ and the vessels which formed her escort
carried the most experienced pilots that could be obtained, whose work was
so well done (though unfortunately it was never paid for) that in
four-and-twenty hours the Channel was crossed. Dover harbour was safely
made, and amidst a throng of interested spectators Henrietta Maria touched
the soil of her new kingdom. It was noticed that immediately on her arrival
the wind rose again with its former violence, and that the sea was again
troubled as if for her alone they had stilled their raging. It was now
evening, and as the Queen, in spite of the pleasures of the little voyage
which seemed to have restored her health and spirits, confessed to great
fatigue, she was allowed to retire at once and to postpone until the next
day the meeting with her husband. M. de Chevreuse and M. de
Ville-aux-Clercs wrote a formal letter to their master, informing him of
his sister's happy arrival, while the King of England awaited, with as much
patience as he could command, the morrow which was to give to his arms the
bride who had tarried so long.
[Footnote 1: She was born on November 25th, 1609 (November 15th, O.S.).]
[Footnote 2: The elaborate ceremonies of her baptism are described in a
pamphlet entitled _Discours sur le baptême de Monsieur frère du Roy et de
la petite Madame_. 1614.]
[Footnote 3: Bib. Nat., Paris. MS. Français, 3818.]
[Footnote 4: After this marriage (of Christine) Her Majesty durst not
follow her mother, to the displeasure of her brother, lest she might hinder
her own, until June 21st, 1620, when the Queen-Mother and her son were
reconciled.
_The Life and Death of that matchless mirror of Magnanimity and Heroick
Vertue, Henrietta Maria de Bourbon_ (1669), p. 5.]
[Footnote 5: He was created Earl of Holland September 15th, 1624.]
[Footnote 6: _Cabala_ (1691), Pt. II, p. 287.]
[Footnote 7: _Ibid._, p. 290. The following descriptions of Henrietta
shortly after her marriage show the impression she made upon Englishmen:
"We have now a most Noble new Queen of England who in true beuty is beyond
the Long-Wood Infanta; for she was of a fading Flaxen-Hair, Big-Lipp'd and
somewhat heavy Ey'd, but this Daughter of France, this youngest Branch of
Bourbon ... is of a more lovely and lasting Complexion, a dark Brown, she
hath Eyes that sparkle like stars and on her Physiognomy she may be said
to be a mirrour of perfection."--J. Howell: _Epistolæ Ho-Eliamæ_ (1645),
sec. IV, p. 30. " ... I went to Whitehall purposlie to see the queene,
which I did fullie all the time shee sate at dinner and perceived her to
bee a most absolute delicate ladie, after I had exactly surveied all the
features of her face, much enlivened by her radiant and sparkling black
eye. Besides her deportment amongst her women was so sweete and humble,
and her speech and lookes to her other servants soe milde and gracious,
as I could not abstaine from divers deep-fetched sighes that she wanted
the knowledge of the true religion."--_D'Ewes' Diary_: printed in
_Bibliotheca Typographica Britannica_ (1790), Vol. VI, p. 33.]
[Footnote 8: These articles were signed at Cambridge in December, 1624; see
MS. Français, 3692: also the _Mémoirs du Comte de Brienne_ (M. de
Ville-aux-Clercs) (Petitot), 1824, p. 389, who was in England at the time
negotiating the matter.]
[Footnote 9: _Continuation of Weekly News_, No. 43, 1624.]
[Footnote 10: Egerton MS., 2596, f. 49.]
[Footnote 11: The procuration of the King of England authorizing the Duke
of Chevreuse to marry the Princess Henrietta in his name is dated April
11th, 1625.]
[Footnote 12: L'Ordre des cérémonies observés au mariage du roy de la
Grande Britagne et de Madame soeur du roy. Paris, 1625.]
[Footnote 13: Many of the details of the marriage, departure from Paris,
etc., are taken from the official account, MS. Français, 23,600.]
[Footnote 14: The ceremonies followed the precedent of those used at the
marriage of Henrietta's father, Henry of Navarre, with Margaret of Valois.]
[Footnote 15: Part of the song with which Henrietta was greeted at Amiens
on her wedding journey. See pp. 20, 21.]
[Footnote 16: Destroyed in February, 1831.]
[Footnote 17: Cf. Chaucer, _Canterbury Tales_: Prologue.
A good Wif was ther of byside Bath
* * * * *
Sche was a worthy womman al hire lyfe
Housbondes atte chirche dore hadde sche fyfe.]
[Footnote 18: George Goring, Baron Goring, 1628, Earl of Norwich, 1644; d.
1663.]
[Footnote 19: At some point in the ceremony Henrietta Maria renounced all
her rights to the throne and dominions of France, as had been stipulated in
the marriage treaty.]
[Footnote 20: The dispensation is dated December, 1625.]
[Footnote 21: They are smaller, part of them having been built over.]
[Footnote 22: MS. Français, 23,600.]
[Footnote 23: L'Entrée superbe magnifique faite à la Royne de la grande
Bretagne dans la Ville d'Amiens, le Samedy septisme de Juin, 1625. Sur les
fideles relations d'un seigneur de qualité. A. Paris, MDCXXV.]
[Footnote 24: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 25: On the question of the authorship of this letter see Avenal:
_Lettres de Richelieu_, VIII., p. 27. There seems no doubt that it was
written by Bérulle. Among the Bérulle papers (Archives Nationales, M. 232)
is an authenticated copy, whose note of authentication states that "ce
discours à este composé par nostre très révérend père" (i.e. Bérulle), as
the copyist was informed in 1660. Bérulle in 1627 wrote another letter for
Mary de' Medici to send to her daughter. See chap. IV.]
[Footnote 26: Sir Tobie Matthew. Tanner MS., LXXII.]
[Footnote 27: _Ibid._]
[Footnote 28: Tanner MS., LXXII, 40.]