THE QUEEN OF THE COURTIERS
Let's now take our time
While w'are in our prime,
And old, old Age is a-farre off:
For the evill, evill dayes
Will come on apace
Before we can be aware of.
ROBERT HERRICK
"I was," Henrietta Maria[61] was accustomed to say in the days of her
sorrow, "I was the happiest and most fortunate of Queens. Not only had I
every pleasure which heart could desire, but, above all, I had the love of
my husband, who adored me." The expulsion of her French attendants was the
foundation of the Queen's married happiness. Away from the insinuations of
Madame S. Georges and the gibes of the Bishop of Mende, she began, in an
amazingly short time, to appreciate the good qualities of her husband, to
which indeed she had never been totally blind; and, in the words of Madame
de Motteville, to "make her pleasure of her duty." "The incomparable
virtues of the King," wrote Holland at this time, "are working upon the
generosity and goodness of the Queen, so that his Majesty should soon have
the best wife in the world."[62] And somewhat later an exceptionally
well-qualified witness[63] was able to say that the royal couple lived
together with the satisfaction which all their loyal subjects ought to
desire.
But still one thing was lacking to her full content. Her husband's nature
was such that his full confidence and affection could only be bestowed upon
one person at the time, and she knew well who held the first place in his
heart and counsels. But she had not long to wait. On August 23rd, 1628, the
knife of Felton ended, in a few moments, the dazzling career of the Duke of
Buckingham. Charles' grief was deep and lasting. He had loved his favourite
like a brother, and he never had another personal friend. But to Henrietta
the news, though shocking in its suddenness, cannot have been unwelcome.
She showed all due respect to his memory, but, as one of her friends wrote
to Carlisle, her lamentations were rather "out of discretion than out of a
true sensation of his death. I need not tell you she is glad of it, for you
must imagine as much."[64]
Thenceforward there was nothing to check the growth of an affection which
became the admiration of Europe. Charles' artistic eye had always dwelt
with pleasure upon his wife's beautiful face, and her wit and readiness
relieved his sombre nature much as Buckingham's bright audacity had, and
now that the latter's hostile influence was removed, he was so completely
captivated that the watchful courtiers soon perceived that the advent of
another favourite was not to be feared, "for the King has made over all his
affection to his wife."[65] The tokens of his love were innumerable. He
delighted in making her gifts of jewels, of religious pictures, of anything
which he thought would please her. He caused her portrait, painted by the
hand of Van Dyck, to be hung in his bedroom, and as early as 1629 it was
remarked that he wished always to be in her company. Nor was she behindhand
in affection. It is pleasant to read that when the King was away for a few
days his wife lay awake at night sighing for his return, and that, on
another occasion when she was at Tunbridge Wells drinking the waters which
were just coming into fashion, she was so home-sick for her husband after a
few days' separation that she cut short her visit and went home to him,
arriving after a long journey quite unexpectedly. Such little incidents
show that Charles was not exaggerating when, in 1630, he wrote to his
mother-in-law that "the only dispute that now exists between us is that of
conquering each other by affection, both esteeming ourselves victorious in
following the will of the other";[66] and that the virtuous Habington, the
poet of wedded love, was not paying one of the empty compliments of a
courtier when he appealed to the example of his sovereign to enforce the
lessons of virtue:
"Princes' example is a law: then we
If loyalle subjects must true lovers be."[67]
Of course the Queen's great wish was to give the King, her husband, an heir
to his throne. But for several years no children appeared, and it was not
until the early spring of 1629 that Henrietta retired to Greenwich for her
first confinement, and even then her hopes were disappointed, for the boy
who was born only lived long enough to receive his father's name. She
herself was very ill; but she showed the brave spirit which never deserted
her in suffering, and her physician was able to report that she was "full
of strength and courage."[68]
But the next year she was more fortunate, perhaps because, owing to her
mother's representations, she had been induced to take great care of
herself and to avoid exertion. This time she chose to remain at St. James's
Palace, which was considered a very suitable place as being near London,
and yet quiet and retired; and there, on May 29th, 1630, the boy was born
who was afterwards Charles II. The delight of the parents and of the Court
may be imagined, while the people at large, who had not been very anxious
for the birth of an heir to the Popish Queen, now remembering that the baby
was the first native-born prince since the children of Henry VIII, entered
with zest into the public rejoicings, which took the usual form of
bell-ringing, bonfires, and fireworks, and which were increased by a
general pardon and release of prisoners. The christening, though it was a
private ceremony, was worthy of the rank of the child who was the first
prince to be born heir, not only of England, but of Scotland also. It took
place in the chapel of St. James's Palace, in the middle of which a dais
was erected bearing the silver font which the loyalty of the Lord Mayor of
London had provided. The chapel and every room through which the
christening procession had to pass were hung with choice tapestry, while
the greatness of the occasion was marked by the munificent gift of £1000
which was offered to the nurse.
It was a happy day for Henrietta, but marred by one disappointment, and
that a great one. It was the King of England's wish that, against the
spirit of the stipulations of his marriage treaty,[69] his heir's
christening should follow the rites of the Established Church.
Nevertheless, two of the baby's sponsors, the King of France and the
Queen-Mother, were Catholics. These and the second godfather, the Prince
Palatine, were represented by three noble Scots, the Duke of Lennox--a
member of a family that the Queen particularly disliked--the Duke of
Hamilton, and the Duchess of Richmond; and the King, with characteristic
unwisdom, desired to pay yet another compliment to his native land by
appointing another Scotchwoman, Lady Roxburgh, to the office of governess
to his infant son. But this lady, who was a Catholic and who, as lady of
the bedchamber to the consort of James, was supposed to have exercised a
baleful religious influence over her mistress, discreetly refused the
offered dignity, which was passed on to the Countess of Dorset, whose
husband was to fill the complimentary position of governor to the royal
child.
The baby inherited neither the stately beauty of his father nor the
vivacious prettiness of his mother, though he was rather like his
grandfather, Henry IV, whom Henrietta so greatly resembled. But his size
and forwardness atoned for his lack of beauty. "He is so fat and so tall,"
wrote the happy mother to her old friend Madame S. Georges, "that he is
taken for a year old, and he is only four months. His teeth are already
beginning to come. I will send you his portrait as soon as he is a little
fairer, for at present he is so dark that I am quite ashamed of him."[70]
And again, somewhat later, her humorous delight in her baby comes out in
another letter to the same correspondent. "I wish you could see the
gentleman, for he has no ordinary mien. He is so serious in all he does,
that I cannot help fancying him far wiser than myself."[71]
Henrietta's happiness was crowned by the birth of her son, which was
followed as the years went on by that of other sons and daughters.[72] But
apart from these domestic joys, in which she delighted with all the
strength of her healthy nature, her life was a very happy one. To the
pleasures of love she added those of friendship, and she had the art, all
too rare among the great, of treating her friends with openness and
confidence without losing her royal dignity. No sooner were her French
ladies gone than she turned to those of her new country to fill their
place, and perhaps her principal choice was not altogether a happy one.
No woman of that time was more brilliant than Lucy, Countess of Carlisle,
whose romantic friendship with the great Strafford, which the imagination
of a modern poet has immortalized, is only one of her claims to
remembrance. A member of the border House of Percy, she incurred, by her
marriage with a Scotch nobleman, the serious displeasure of her father,
who, as he said, could not bear that his daughter should dance Scotch jigs.
But her union with the distinguished Lord Carlisle, whom Henrietta speedily
forgave for his share in her early troubles, was to her advantage at Court,
where, in virtue of her ten years' seniority over the young Queen, she
wielded the influence which often belongs to a married woman, who, though
still in the bloom of her beauty, has had time to acquire a knowledge of
life. That she was beautiful her portraits remain to testify; that in the
mingled arts of coquetry and diplomacy she was so proficient as to
challenge comparison with Madame de Chevreuse herself there is ample
evidence in the fascination which she exercised, first over Strafford and
then over Pym, neither of whom were men to be caught by mediocre ability or
charm; that she was cowardly, false, treacherous to her heart's core
Henrietta's simple and affectionate nature had as yet no means of
discovering.[73]
There was another man of less intellectual distinction whom she had once
been able to lead captive by her charms, but who had deserted her for a
royal mistress across the Channel. The story of her frustrated revenge,
though it rests upon the authority of gossiping memoirs,[74] is so
characteristic of the lady herself and of others who played a part in
Henrietta's life, that it carries with it some degree of conviction, and
moreover has an illustrative value apart from its literal truth.
Lady Carlisle was not a woman to forgive a faithless lover, even though
that lover were the favourite of her King and had left her for the smiles
of a foreign Queen. She determined to take a delicate revenge which should
punish both the Duke of Buckingham and the Queen of France; and to compass
this end she became one of the earliest of the English spies of Richelieu,
who would be only too glad to welcome any proof of the levity of Anne of
Austria.
The Countess laid her plans well. She noticed that Buckingham, after his
return from France, was accustomed to wear some diamond studs which she had
never seen before, and which she conjectured correctly to have been given
to him by the Queen of France. She determined to gain possession of one of
these jewels, that she might send it to Richelieu, who would be at no loss
to draw his own conclusions. A Court ball gave her an opportunity, and
before the evening was out she held in her hand the compromising ornament.
But she was to be outwitted after all by Buckingham, who, whatever his
failings, was neither a tepid nor a dull-witted lover, and who was able to
gauge, pretty correctly, the spite of the woman he knew so well. Taking
advantage of his unbounded power with the King, he obtained the closure of
all the ports of England for a certain time, during which interval he
caused an exact replica of the stolen stud to be made, which, together with
the remaining studs, he dispatched to Anne. The Queen of France was thus
able to produce the jewels when her husband, their original donor, asked
for them, and the accusing stud which the malice of her enemies sent to
Paris was deprived of power to injure her.
It is not surprising that there were people at the Court of England who
disliked the young Queen's intimacy with Lady Carlisle. That lady, whose
talk with those of her own sex was ever of dress and fashion, had already,
it was rumoured, taught Henrietta to paint, and she would, no doubt, lead
her on to other "debaucheries"; but her influence seemed established. By
the royal favour she enjoyed a pension of £2000 a year, and Henrietta's
affection was so great that even when the Countess had the smallpox she
could hardly be kept from her side. The Queen was the convalescent's first
visitor, and a little later she permitted her favourite to appear at Court
in a black velvet mask, so that she might enjoy her society at an earlier
date than otherwise would have been possible, for it was not to be expected
that Lady Carlisle would show her face in the circles of which she was one
of the brightest ornaments until its beauty was fully restored. Such a
woman could not fail to arouse jealousy. Buckingham's relatives, who served
the Queen, feared and distrusted her, and perhaps her most formidable rival
in Henrietta's affection was the Duke's sister, the pious and cultured Lady
Denbigh, who, distasteful at first, had won her mistress' heart, and whose
long fidelity, which neither years nor exile could diminish, contrasts
favourably with the self-seeking of the more brilliant Lady Carlisle.
[Illustration: OLD SOMERSET HOUSE
FROM AN ENGRAVING AFTER AN ANCIENT PAINTING IN DULWICH COLLEGE]
But the society of friends of her own sex was only one among the many joys
which were Henrietta's during the happy years which elapsed between the
troubles of her youth and the storm of the Civil War. For a few months
after the departure of the French her husband seems to have kept her short
of money,[75] but in 1627 she enjoyed the income of £18,000, which was
guaranteed to her by the terms of her marriage contract. Moreover, large
grants of manors and lands were made to her. Thus came into her possession
the park of East Greenwich, whither she was wont to retire when she wished
for country air and quiet, and yet could not be far from town; thus she
acquired Oatlands in Surrey, the pleasant country-house of which nothing
now remains, where she spent many happy days with her friends and children;
thus she was able to call her own Somerset or Denmark House, her much-loved
and beautiful London home which stood with other noblemen's houses facing
the Strand, while behind lovely pleasure gardens sloped down to the still
silver Thames. None of her other houses, probably, were as dear to her as
this, where she kept an establishment befitting her rank as Queen-Consort,
and where she frequently gave entertainments which reflected the taste and
grace of their hostess, and to which she had the pleasure of inviting her
husband, the King.
Henrietta was not a lady of literary tastes, and in spite of the fact that
the Scotch poet, Sir Robert Ayton, was her private secretary, her patronage
of general literature was confined to smiling on poets, such as Edmund
Waller, who presented her with copies of complimentary verses, and to
receiving the dedication of devotional works, usually translated from
foreign originals. But to the drama she was devoted, and she specially
liked the pretty and fashionable plays known as masques, of which the
veteran laureate, Ben Jonson, wrote a number, and of which a younger poet,
John Milton, produced in _Comus_, the most famous example. Henrietta was
delighted with the great pageant and masque offered to their Majesties by
the Inns of Court in 1633,[76] and even the grave Laud, when he entertained
royalty at Oxford in 1638, provided a play, Cartwright's _Royal Slave_, for
the amusement of his guests. But the Queen's pleasure was not only as a
spectator. As a child she had been accustomed to take her part in private
theatricals acted in the spacious _salons_ of the Luxembourg, where Rubens'
voluptuous women looked down upon the royal actresses. She brought the
taste for these amusements with her to England. The first Christmas after
her marriage she and her ladies acted a French pastoral at Somerset House,
in which she took the leading part. "It would have been thought a strange
sight once,"[77] commented sourly her new subjects.
But she was not to be deterred from her pleasures. She was always too
careless of public opinion, and, as an acute and sympathetic observer
remarked somewhat later, she was a true Bourbon in her love of amusement.
To a lady whose dancing was something quite unusual, and whose sweet voice
and skill in touching the lute testified to real musical taste, dramatic
representations were naturally attractive. Her second English Christmas was
enlivened by a masque, in which, as her French attendants were gone by this
time, she had the assistance of her English friends. Her own band of
players was always ready, and played for her amusement, now at Hampton
Court, now at Somerset House, and it was owing to her influence and
patronage that theatres increased to such an extent in the capital that the
Puritan feeling of the City was aroused, which produced an order in Council
"for the restraint of the inordinate use and company of playhouse and
players." The playgoers were to content themselves with two theatres, of
which one was to be in Middlesex and the other across the river in Surrey,
while no plays were to be acted on Sunday, in Lent, or in times of common
infection.
But the merrymakings of the Court became more instead of less as the years
went on. In 1631 the Queen was so taken up with her Shrovetide play that
she had no thoughts to spare for important news which came from France, and
the next year she took the principal part in an elaborate play, _The
Shepherd's Paradise_, which was written for her by Walter Montagu, who
added to his fine manners and diplomatic skill some pretensions (if nothing
more) to literature. This play, which is of the allegorical type so dear to
the heart of the seventeenth century, is indeed a very poor one, and hardly
contains a line which rises above the level of an indifferent verse-maker.
It is, moreover, fatiguingly long, and the Queen must have found her part a
great labour to learn, specially as, notwithstanding her seven years'
residence in England, she was not yet perfect in the English tongue, and
indeed was acting partly in order to improve herself in this necessary
accomplishment.[78] Her companions in the play were her ladies, for not a
man was admitted even to take the male parts. But in spite of difficulties,
when the night of the representation came, everything went off merrily at
Somerset House; all acted with great spirit, and the Queen was able to
speak with playful conviction the oath of the new queendom to which she had
been elected:--
"By beauty, Innocence, and all that's faire
I, Bellesa, as a Queen do sweare,
To keep the honour and the regall due
Without exacting anything that's new,
And to assume no more to me than must
Give me the meanes and power to be just,
And but for charity and mercies cause
Reserve no power to suspend the Lawes.
This do I vow even as I hope to rise
From this into another Paradise."[79]
The author of these lines was in high favour, not only with the Queen, but
with the King, who went out of his way to congratulate his father, the Earl
of Manchester, on such a son. This approval more than compensated for the
castigation of the pastoral by another poet, whose verses, unlike
Montagu's, still retain power to charm:--
"Wat Montague now stood forth to his trial,
And did not so much as suspect a denial;
But witty Apollo ask'd him first of all
If he understood his new Pastoral.
"For if he could do it, 'twould plainly appear
He understood more than any man there,
And did merit the bayes above all the rest;
But the mounsieur was modest, and silence confest."[80]
There was another slight annoyance connected with the play which was,
perhaps, even less felt than Suckling's wit, for what did it matter to
Henrietta, to Montagu, or to any of the brilliant company, if a
cross-grained puritanical lawyer such as William Prynne chose to insult the
Queen by base and indiscriminate charges against actresses, thereby
bringing upon himself the just punishment of the loss of his ears?
All disagreeable matters were, indeed, shut out from the brilliant
drawing-rooms of Henrietta Maria, where the hostess set an example of free
amiability at which strict persons looked a little askance. Those were most
welcome who could most contribute by beauty, wit, or conversation to the
entertainment of all. Lord Holland,[81] the most elegant dandy of the day,
was often to be seen there chatting with the Queen about France or Madame
de Chevreuse, to whom he was known to be devoted. Walter Montagu's ready
wit and charming conversation always availed to win him a few smiles from
his royal hostess. Henry Percy was welcomed as much, perhaps, for the sake
of his sister, Lady Carlisle, as for any shining qualities of his own.
Above all, Henry Jermyn, the Queen's greatest friend--and she was a woman
of many men friends--was constantly to be seen at her side, building up a
friendship which only death was to end.
It is hard to account for Henrietta's affection for this man--an affection
so great that from that day to this scandal has been busy with their names.
Henry Jermyn was not particularly well born, and he was neither radiantly
handsome like Holland, nor clever and witty like Montagu. His abilities,
which were severely tested in the course of his life, did not rise above
mediocrity; his religion, such of it as existed, was of a very nebulous
character, and his morals were of a distinctly commonplace type; indeed,
one of his early achievements at Court was to run off with a maid of
honour. To set against all this we only know that he was a man of very soft
and gentle manners, such as made him a fitting agent in delicate
negotiations, and that when the day of trouble came he showed considerable
fidelity to the interests of a losing cause. That Henrietta should have
lavished on such a man an affection and a confidence which some of her best
friends, both now and later, thought exaggerated, is surprising; but she
was never a good judge of character, and it must be remembered that
personal charm is one of the most evanescent of qualities which cannot be
bottled for the use of the historian.
That in these happy days Henrietta was one of the brightest ornaments of
her own Court cannot be doubted. Old men, who remembered the later years of
Elizabeth, must have contrasted the forced compliments offered to her faded
charms with the free devotion laid at the feet of this young and beautiful
woman,
"In whom th' extremes of power and beauty move,
The Queen of Britain and the Queen of Love."[82]
Her beauty soon reached its prime and soon faded a little, so that in later
days she used to say with a touch of pique that no woman was handsome after
two-and-twenty. Though she was not tall, her figure was good, and her sweet
face with its animated expression attracted all beholders. Fastidious
critics did, indeed, find fault with her mouth, which was rather large, but
they had nothing but praise for her well-formed nose, her pretty
complexion, and, above all, for her sparkling black eyes which, as in the
days of her girlhood, were her most striking beauty; so lovely were they
that the Puritan Sir Simonds d'Ewes was fain to lament that their owner
should be in the thraldom of Popery.[83]
With such beauty to adorn, no woman, much less a Frenchwoman and a queen,
could be indifferent to dress. Henrietta took a great interest in the
subject, and loved to deck herself in the beautiful robes which were then
in fashion and which we know so well from the portraits of Van Dyck. The
trousseau which she had brought with her to England bore witness to her
brother's generosity, and was so ample and magnificent[84] that it may well
have lasted her life, as trousseaux did in those days. Four dozen
embroidered nightgowns with a dozen night-caps to match, four dozen
chemises with another "fort belle, toute pointe coupe" thrown in for
special occasions, and five dozen handkerchiefs seem an ample allowance of
linen even for a queen, while the five petticoats which were provided made
up in splendour what they lacked in number. The dozen pairs of English silk
stockings, to which was added a dainty pair of red velvet boots lined with
fur, were a luxury to which few could have aspired. But it was in the
matter of gowns that Henrietta was most fortunate. No less than thirteen
did she possess, apart from her "royal robe," and all were very
magnificent, four being of gold and silver cloth on a satin foundation,
whether of black, crimson, green, or "jus de lin," those of the two
last-named colours being provided with a court train and long hanging
sleeves. As for the robe of state, which perhaps is the same as that which
had already done duty at the wedding, it surpassed the rest in splendour,
being of red velvet covered with fleur-de-lis. A heavy mantle of the same
material and colour lined up with ermine was evidently intended to be worn
with it on ceremonial occasions.
Such toilettes would have been incomplete without magnificent jewels, of
which the taste of the time allowed great display. With Mary de' Medici
they were a passion, and her daughter, though she had no avarice in her
nature and was to show herself capable of sacrificing jewels or any other
material good for those she loved, yet was far from indifferent to the
sparkle and colour of these beautiful ornaments. Many and valuable were the
jewels which on her departure from France were handed over to the care of
her _dame d'atours_, who must have found them an anxious charge. Fillets of
pearls, chains of precious stones, diamond ear-rings, a magnificent diamond
ring, all these were provided for the young Queen, besides such fine jewels
as a cross of diamonds and pearls, an anchor studded with four diamonds,
and a "bouquet" of five petals made of diamonds, together with a quantity
of lesser trinkets, including several dozen diamond buttons to be used as
trimmings for dresses. It may be safely conjectured that the Queen found
plenty of use for a "grand mirror, silver-backed," which she brought over
with her from Paris, and it is not surprising to learn that Father Bérulle
thought her rather too fond of dress.
A very girl Henrietta remained for several years after her marriage.
Politics did not greatly interest her, and her trust in her husband was
such that she turned aside from serious matters to employ herself in bright
trifles, for, to the _joye de vivre_, which came to her from her father,
she added a delight in all that was pretty, which recalls her descent from
Florence and the Medici. She had, also, a taste for the grotesque which was
common in her day, and she long kept at her Court a pugnacious dwarf, by
name Geoffrey Hudson, who, later on, during the exile, caused her
considerable embarrassment by killing a gentleman in a duel. There is ample
evidence of her interest in dainty possessions and amusements. Now she is
writing to Madame S. Georges for velvet petticoats from her Paris tailor,
or "a dozen pairs of sweet chamois gloves and ... one of doe skin." Now she
is receiving "rare and outlandish flowers," or asking her mother to send
her fruit trees and plants for her gardens, whose "faire flowers" she so
cherished as to merit the dedication by Parkinson the herbalist of his
Paradisus Terrestris. Or, again, she is setting out with her lords and
ladies to celebrate in good old English fashion the festival of May Day,
and to witness all those pretty rights of country festivity over which the
withering wind of the Civil War had not yet passed.
"Marke
How each field turns to a street: each street a Parke
Made green and trimm'd with trees: see how
Devotion gives each house a Bough
Or Branch: each Porch, each doore, ere this
An Arke a Tabernacle is
Made up of white thorn neatly enterwove
As if here were those cooler shades of love."[85]
Nor was the Queen merely an idle spectator. No sooner did the first snowy
May bush catch her eye than, with all the zest of a village maiden, she
leaped from her fine coach, and breaking off a bough placed it merrily in
her hat.
In all the revels of the Court Henrietta's was the moving spirit, but her
sweetness of temper prevented her energy from degenerating into
domineering. She was never really popular with the people at large, on
account of her race and her religion, and there were murmurs now and then
at Court about her undue preference for the Scotch. But that in her own
circle she was tenderly loved there can be no doubt. Innocent,[86] yet so
sprightly that she sometimes gave scandal without suspecting it; gay, yet
with moments of sadness which only solitude could relieve; open and
talkative, yet faithful to conceal secrets, "for a queen should be as a
confessor, hearing all yet telling nothing"; sympathetic with sorrow, yet
chaffing unmercifully the _malades imaginares_ of a luxurious Court;
delicate in consideration for the feelings of the meanest of her servants,
yet gifted with a caustic tongue used at times rather unsparingly. Such was
Henrietta Maria, Queen of England.
But it is time to turn from the merely social and decorative aspect of
Henrietta's married life to consider the interests and intrigues which,
behind the brilliant show, were working and struggling.
One of the first questions which came up for settlement on the conclusion
of peace between England and France in 1629 was that of the Queen's
household, and the ambassador sent to London to arrange this matter turned
out to be one of those fascinating but factious persons whom ill-fortune
threw so often in Henrietta's path. To make things worse he found already
in England another Frenchman more fascinating and more factious than
himself, with whom he formed a close friendship. The Chevalier de Jars,[87]
whose exile was the result of Anne of Austria's affection and of
Richelieu's dislike, added to all his other charms a skill in the game of
tennis, which commended him to the King of England, himself a proficient in
the game.
Charles de l'Aubépine, Marquis of Chateauneuf, arrived in London in 1629.
He was a finished gentleman, and he was able quickly to win the confidence
of the Queen whose heart always turned kindly to those of her own nation.
But the ambassador was not slow in discovering that instead of having to
defend an ill-used and discontented wife, as perhaps he had expected, he
must adapt his diplomacy to the requirements of a happy married couple. "I
am not only the happiest princess, but the happiest woman in the
world,"[88] said Henrietta to him triumphantly, while Charles was careful
to show his affection for his beautiful wife by kissing her a hundred times
in the course of an hour as Chateauneuf looked on. "You have not seen that
in Piedmont," said the King, turning to his foreign guest, "nor," he added,
sinking his voice to a discreet whisper, "in France either."
Such news was gratifying to Mary de' Medici's maternal affection, and
Chateauneuf dwelt in his dispatches upon the kindness of the King, on the
pretty gifts of jewellery which he gave to his wife, and on the general
happiness of the royal marriage. But the real objects of his mission,
despite the personal favour with which he was regarded, were not advanced,
for Henrietta had now no wish to receive a French establishment such as she
had wept for so bitterly three years earlier.[89] She was now an English
queen, and she was well content with the attendance which her husband
provided for her. She confessed, however, that she should like to have a
lady of the bedchamber to whom she could talk in her own language and who
could come to church with her, "for the Countess of Buckingham and Madame
Savage are often away, and the rest of my ladies are Protestants," she
said.
She took a favourable opportunity of expressing her views to her brother's
ambassador with the frankness she was accustomed to show towards those she
liked. She invited him to stay with her at Nonsuch "as a private person
serving the Queen," and one evening there, after supper, when Charles had
ridden away to hunt, she requested her guest to walk with her in the park,
to enjoy the coolness of the July evening. A long conversation followed.
Chateauneuf spoke to the Queen of the great affection which her mother had
for her, the daughter whom she had kept longest at her side, and whose
marriage was her own work. Henrietta assented, and confessed that the
jealousy she had once felt of her sister Christine was unfounded, but she
quickly went on to speak of the happiness of her married life and of the
religious freedom which she enjoyed. "I do not want another governess," she
declared at last. "I am no longer a child to allow myself to be ruled."[90]
There were indeed many difficulties to be smoothed if Mary de' Medici was
to realize her hope of bringing her young daughter again into tutelage.
Both Charles and Henrietta saw what the aim of the French Government was,
and they quietly defeated it. The ecclesiastical question, which will be
discussed elsewhere, was, indeed, settled by a compromise favourable to
Catholic interests, but no _gouvernante_ arrived to oust the Countess of
Buckingham, who held the position formerly occupied by Madame S. Georges;
and the doctor, "a Frenchman and a Catholic," who came to supplant the
excellent Mayerne, a learned French Protestant who served Henrietta
faithfully for many years, found his position at the English Court so
intolerable that he begged to be recalled.
But there is another aspect of Chateauneuf's brief stay in England which
requires careful consideration. The French ambassador was believed to be
devoted to the interests of Richelieu, or else, assuredly, he had never set
foot in the English Court; but even Richelieu was sometimes mistaken, and
the man whom he had chosen to represent him was probably already jealous of
his patron, and already falling under the influence of the bright eyes of
Madame de Chevreuse, the friend of Queen Anne, the ally of Spain.
It is probable also that Henrietta was beginning to look coldly upon
Richelieu even before she met Chateauneuf, for other influences were
working against him in her mind. The day of Dupes was fast approaching,
when her mother would leave for ever the Court of France. Gaston of
Orleans' persistent hostility to the Cardinal was not without its weight
with his sister. Bérulle, whose memory she deeply revered, had died in
1628, summing up the experience of a lifetime in his dying words, "As for
the Court it is but vanity"; it was well known that he was at enmity with
the man who had raised him from the simple priesthood to the dignity of the
cardinal's purple. Taking all these things into account, it is not
surprising that the young Queen of England turned no unwilling ear to the
insinuation of Chateauneuf and the hints of Jars, and the result was an
intrigue which only became apparent when the ambassador had returned to
France, leaving the fascinating Chevalier to carry on the work which he had
begun.
The interaction of French and English politics now becomes of great
importance. Charles never allowed another to occupy the place of
Buckingham, either in his heart or in his counsels; but at this time his
chief dependence was upon the Treasurer, Richard Weston, who became Earl of
Portland in 1633; a dull, safe man, who could be trusted to prevent the
disagreeable necessity of calling a Parliament. He was, certainly at the
beginning of his career, rather pro-Spanish in his sympathies, and he died
a Catholic; but his aversion from war so recommended him to Richelieu, who
knew that while he held the reins of power England would not interfere in
his continental designs, that an understanding and almost a friendship
gradually grew up between them.
Henrietta never liked Weston. Perhaps she was jealous of her husband's
regard, and saw in him a potential Buckingham; certainly she disliked his
close-fisted ways, which curbed her extravagance, always considerable, in
money matters. She allowed a cabal of discontented spirits to gather round
her, whose double aim was the overthrow of the powerful minister in England
and of the far greater statesman across the Channel. That cabal, founded in
French opinion by Chateauneuf,[91] included most of the Queen's personal
friends. Holland,[92] who was jealous of Weston, and whose devotion to
Madame de Chevreuse accounted for his attitude to Richelieu, without taking
into account a warm friendship with Chateauneuf; Montagu, who laid such
portion of his homage as he could spare from Queen Anne at the feet of the
same seductive lady, and who had been and was "very well" with Monsieur the
factious Duke of Orleans; Jermyn and Henry Percy--these are some of
those[93] implicated in Henrietta's first attempt at the fascinating game
of diplomatic chicanery. To them must be added Madame de Vantelet, whom
Chateauneuf thought a little neglected, but who, as the only French lady of
the royal household, had considerable influence over her mistress, and
whose partisanship became so marked that the pension assigned to her by the
King of France was taken away.
The difficulties began with the arrival of Chateauneuf's successor, the
Marquis of Fontenay-Mareuil, who threw himself on the side of Weston, and
who soon found that he had to reckon with a foe in the person of the
Chevalier de Jars. He met with little less opposition from Madame de
Vantelet and from Father Philip, who disliked the ecclesiastical policy of
the ambassador, and who was himself disliked by the party of Richelieu,
because as a subject of King Charles he was quite independent of France and
could not be persuaded to use the great influence over the Queen which his
position gave him in the interests of a foreign Government.[94] The Queen
proved even more intractable. She refused to dismiss Father Philip at her
eldest brother's request, and it was an ominous sign that in 1631 an agent
of Monsieur was in England, even though Charles took care that his presence
should be reported to the French authorities. When the news arrived of the
execution of the gallant Montmorency, Henrietta spoke with pity of his
fate, while her husband, who had many of the instincts of absolutism,
readily allowed that it was a painful necessity.
Her friendship for Jars continued unabated in spite of the open enmity
which that worthy showed to Fontenay-Mareuil, whose position was only
rendered tolerable by the kindness of the King, who had not yet fallen
under the domination of his wife in affairs, however much he might kiss and
caress her. As for Henrietta, she was openly rude to the hapless
ambassador. She frankly told him that though she was obliged to receive him
in his official capacity, out of respect for her brother, she would not
discuss her private affairs with him, and wished to have as little to do
with him personally as possible. It is not surprising that he was anxious
to return to his own country.
Nor is it surprising that he took steps to clear himself from the name
freely bestowed upon him. Apart from the clique of Chateauneuf's personal
friends, of whom the chief perhaps were Holland and Montagu, he was fairly
liked at Court, and he believed that, could he but unmask the intrigues of
the Chevalier and of his patron Chateauneuf, he might yet triumph over his
enemies. With this object in view he descended to a trick hardly in keeping
either with his rank or with his office. One evening when he knew that the
Chevalier would be away from home, he caused two of his servants to enter
the rooms of his rival, where they carried on a burglarious search, which
ended in a small cabinet containing letters finding its way into the hands
of the ambassador.
Jars, as was only to be expected, was exceedingly angry, but he believed
that his influence with the King and the Queen would ensure his redress.
They did indeed take up the matter with great zeal, and, for a few days,
nothing else was talked of at Court. But when Charles came to question
Fontenay-Mareuil, the affair assumed a different complexion. The ambassador
did not attempt to deny the theft. He only said coolly that since Jars was
a subject of the King of France, and since he had reason to believe that he
was compromising his sovereign's interests, he was at liberty to take any
steps which seemed good to him to discover the truth. The King of England
was much struck by this reply, which fitted in well with his own theory and
practice of statecraft. Moreover, much as he personally liked Jars, he
distrusted the political party to which he belonged. He therefore
determined to take no steps in the matter. He showed marked cordiality to
Fontenay-Mareuil, and the Chevalier, to his infinite chagrin, had to submit
to the loss of his papers, which were probably sent to Richelieu to help
forward the disgrace of Chateauneuf.
For in the early spring of 1633 the Court of England was startled by the
news of the arrest of that nobleman and of the Chevalier de Jars, who had
returned to France after the above incident. In a moment the power of those
who were the Queen of England's friends in her native land seemed
destroyed. Chateauneuf was sent into captivity at Angoulême. His fair
charmer, Madame de Chevreuse, was forced into uncongenial retirement, which
ended in her dramatic escape, dressed up as a man, across the Pyrenees into
Spain. While for Jars was reserved a still harder lot. Two years of
rigorous imprisonment in the Bastille were followed by a sentence of death,
pronounced by one who was known as the "bourreau du Cardinal." It was only
as the victim kneeled upon the scaffold awaiting the stroke of the
executioner that he received, by the tardy mercy of Richelieu, a reprieve
from death, a reprieve so sudden and startling that for many minutes he was
too stunned to appreciate his good fortune, which, however, was none too
great, for he was reconducted to his prison, whence all the efforts of his
friends, headed by the Queen of England, were long unavailing to drag him.
It was not indeed likely that Richelieu would look favourably on a request
proferred by Henrietta, for he was beginning to feel that distrust of her
which never left him to the end of his life. Among the letters which the
_affaire_ Chateauneuf placed in his power were many written by English
hands, those of Holland, of Montagu, of the Queen herself. He knew also
that the royal lady had spoken slighting words of him, saying that
Chateauneuf was no participant of the evil counsels of the Cardinal, and
that after the death of the latter he would be able to fill his place much
more worthily. This information, moreover, came from an unimpeachable
source, none other than the Treasurer of England. Weston indeed watched
with no ordinary interest the course of events in France, and it is not
surprising that he did not scruple to report to the Cardinal the
uncomplimentary remarks of the Queen of England. The enemies of Richelieu
were his own, and their overthrow prepared the way for his victory, which,
though on a smaller scale and of less dramatic quality, was equally
decisive.
In the spring of 1633, not long after the fall of Chateauneuf, Jerome
Weston, the son of the Treasurer, was on his way home from Paris, whither
he had been as ambassador. On the journey he happened to fall in with a
letter which he thought to be written by the Earl of Holland, and
remembering the hostility of that nobleman to his father, he took
possession of it. On opening the packet he found within a letter addressed
in the Queen's handwriting, which he did not presume to unfold; but on his
arrival in London laid it, just as he had found it, in the hands of the
King.
It appears that the letter was of trifling importance, being nothing more
than one of the many which, at different times, Henrietta Maria wrote on
behalf of the Chevalier de Jars to Cardinal Richelieu. But Holland, not
unnaturally perhaps, felt that he had been insulted, and he probably
thought that the King would see in Jerome Weston's conduct an affront to
his wife. In a moment of imprudence he sent a challenge by the hands of
Henry Jermyn to the Treasurer's son, asking for satisfaction. The latter,
instead of sending an answer in the way usual in such cases, informed his
father of what had occurred, and Portland without delay laid the matter
before the King. This trifling incident thus became the touchstone of the
respective influence of the Treasurer and of the cabal which was trying to
ruin him. It was the former who came off victorious. Charles' trust in his
minister was not to be shaken, while he was exceedingly angry with Holland.
To his punctilious mind it seemed intolerable that a nobleman of his own
council should send a challenge to one of his servants on account of an act
performed in his official capacity. His orders were sharp and stern.
Jermyn, as an accessory, was to be confined in a private house, while
Holland was ordered to retire to the beautiful mansion at Kensington, which
he had acquired with his wealthy wife Isabel Cope, and there to remain
during His Majesty's pleasure. All believed that the day of the brilliant
Earl was over, and that his friends, particularly Montagu and Madame de
Vantelet, would share in his fall. Holland House was indeed a gilded
prison, but the prisoner was made to feel that the sentence had not been
pronounced in play, for when he showed a disposition to amuse himself with
his friends, Charles sent a stern rebuke, forbidding him to receive
company. Everything pointed to a complete withdrawal of royal favour.
But Henrietta, as she proved in the case of Jars and of many others, was a
good friend. She was truly attached to Holland, who was not only possessed
of unrivalled grace of person and manner, but was connected in her mind
with the happy memory of her marriage. Exerting all the strength of her
growing influence over her husband--an influence which was increased by the
fact that she was about again to become a mother[95]--she succeeded in
winning the pardon of the now repentant Earl. Handsome and brilliant as
ever, Holland reappeared in the drawing-rooms of the Queen, and his
accomplices, Jermyn, Montagu, and Madame de Vantelet, seemed to be in as
high favour at Court as before the occurrence of this untoward event.
But, nevertheless, Portland was the victor. Charles' eyes had been opened
to see the machinations of the enemies of his minister who, notwithstanding
the smothered hostility of the Queen and her circle, preserved his
confidence until his death. Henrietta's first attempt to play the game of
politics--an attempt into which she had been drawn by her friends with
probably little volition or comprehension of her own--had ended on both
sides of the Channel in sorry failure. In France her friends were scattered
and exiled, and the great Cardinal was stronger than ever; in England she
had proved her power to touch her husband's heart, but not to rule his
counsels.
But other days were coming. In March, 1635, Portland died. As Charles grew
older his disposition to keep the direction of affairs in his own hands
grew also, and as Buckingham had had no real successor so Portland had
none. Instead, his heritage of influence and power was divided among
several heirs, one of whom was the Queen of England. Hardly was the
Treasurer in his grave when Henrietta Maria began to show an interest in
political concerns which she had not previously displayed.
She was now twenty-five years of age, and her early marriage had brought
with it an early development of character. She had outgrown the levity of
extreme youth, and her acute and energetic mind was beginning to feel and
respond to the stimulus of affairs. She had not lived for ten years with
her husband without being aware of the difficulties of his sombre and
obstinate character,[96] but she knew also his great love for her, and she
was encouraged by the fact that her devoted servant the Earl of Holland had
been restored to more than his former place in Charles' confidence. Perhaps
the hostile influence which she most feared was that of Laud, for whom the
King had a regard not only as an ecclesiastic after his own heart, but as a
friend and protégé of Buckingham. There was also another and a stronger
mind from which she instinctively shrank, but Wentworth was far away in
Ireland, and, at the time, seldom came into personal relation with her. But
though it is unquestionable that the disappearance of Portland marks a
change which came over the spirit of the Queen, yet that change may easily
be exaggerated. It was, moreover, very gradual, and only became complete in
the dark days which preceded the Civil War. For the present, though the
instincts of intrigue inherent in the Medici blood were aroused, yet her
chief interests remained those of the normal young married woman, her
husband, her babies, her home. If she entered into political matters, as
she had not done in earlier years, yet her efforts were intermittent, and
two independent witnesses attest with regret the indifference of her
attempts to win over the Ministers of State, and the slightness of the part
which she played in public life.[97] Nevertheless, as the death of
Buckingham gave her ascendancy over her husband's heart, so that of
Portland paved the way for the ascendancy which she gradually acquired over
his mind.
It was not to be expected that Henrietta's development of character, slight
and gradual though it might be, would escape the vigilant eyes fixed upon
her from across the Channel. Portland's death was a blow to Richelieu, who,
with a European war about to begin, could not afford the hostility of
England. He did not like Henrietta, but he was too acute not to appreciate
that her character was of the feminine type, which is largely dependent
upon personal influence, and he hoped that the removal of Chateauneuf and
Jars would lead to a return on her part to such sentiments as he conceived
to be fitting towards her native land, in other words, towards himself, for
to the Cardinal even more than to Louis XIV "l'Etat c'est moi." When he
heard how all the courtiers of England, and even the Archbishop of
Canterbury himself, were trying to win her favour, he felt that he must
take some pains to recapture her. His schemes--the details of which may be
read in the dispatches which he wrote and received--were not quite
unsuccessful. Henrietta, for a few years, did show a certain friendliness
towards him, and perhaps, had he complied at once with her wishes in
releasing Jars, he might have won her real friendship.[98] Her friends in
England were not neglected. The unstable Montagu, who at this time had
great influence over her, and who was attempting, quite unsuccessfully, to
make Richelieu forget the part he had played in Chateauneuf's schemes, was
rewarded for his shuffling by the offer of a pension, which, however, the
Queen thought it prudent he should refuse.[99] Certainly grievances of her
French servants were removed. Madame de Vantelet's pension was restored,
while in 1637 Francis Windbank, one of the Secretaries of State, who was
becoming involved in her schemes, was delicately asked to accept a present
in lieu of the less respectable pension.[100]
[Illustration: CHARLES I AND HENRIETTA MARIA
FROM THE PAINTING BY VAN DYCK IN THE GALLERIA PITTI, FLORENCE]
But Richelieu, in spite of all his schemes, was by now aware of one fact,
which redounds greatly to Henrietta's credit: he recognized that she would
never be an Anne of Austria, an alien and spy in the Court of her husband,
and that all he could hope for was to win her as a friendly ally who should
counteract in some degree the pro-Spanish tendencies of the King. "The
Queen of England," ran the instructions given to an ambassador who was
starting for London, "shows herself always very well disposed towards
France. But care must be taken, and she must not be required to act beyond
that which she considers may contribute to the common good of the two
crowns."[101]
For as the years rolled on the union between Charles and Henrietta proved
to be no passing affection born of youth and beauty, but the deep and
increasing love of true marriage. It was as impossible for Henrietta as for
any other good wife, whether princess or peasant, to consider a course of
action apart from the interests of her husband, and those who had dealings
with her had to learn, sometimes painfully, that her first consideration
must always be he of whom she was accustomed to write, with pretty
formality, as "le roi Monseigneur."
She is considered, and rightly, to be a Queen of Tragedy. But in any
estimate of her life it must be remembered that she had at least twelve
years of such happiness as seldom falls to the lot of a royal woman. If
later she was to find out that
"There is no worldly pleasure here below
Which by experience doth not folly prove,"
now she was learning
"But among all the follies that I know
The sweetest folly in the world is love";[102]
and thus rank and riches, which to the unhappy are but an aggravation of
their misery, could yield to her their truest pleasure. Moreover, she never
had to learn, like poor Anne of Austria, how
"Rich discontent's a glorious Hell."[103]
Sorrow, when it came, stripped her bare of the mocking accessories of joy.
[Footnote 61: In England Henrietta Maria was known as Queen Mary, but she
always used the signature "Henriette Marie."]
[Footnote 62: _Cal. S.P. Dom._, 1625-6, p. 415.]
[Footnote 63: Sir Theodore Mayerne.]
[Footnote 64: Henry Percy to Earl of Carlisle. _Cal. S.P. Dom._, 1625-49,
p. 292.]
[Footnote 65: _Cal. S.P. Dom._, 1628-9, p. 412. (Dec., 1628.)]
[Footnote 66: Green: _Letters of Queen Henrietta Maria_, p. 15.]
[Footnote 67: William Habington: "Castara."]
[Footnote 68: Sir Theodore Mayerne: _Cal. S.P. Dom._, 1628-9, p. 548.]
[Footnote 69: See chapter IV.]
[Footnote 70: Green: _Letters of Queen Henrietta Maria_, p. 17.]
[Footnote 71: _Ibid._, p. 18.]
[Footnote 72: Mary, who married the Prince of Orange; James, afterwards
King of England; Elizabeth; Henry, Duke of Gloucester; Henrietta Anne,
Duchess of Orleans; Anne, who died as an infant, and another daughter, who
also died in infancy.]
[Footnote 73: Her character is described at length in "The Character of the
Most Excellent Lady Lucy of Carlisle," by Sir Tobie Matthews, prefixed to
_A Collection of Letters made by Sir Tobie Matthews, K.C._ (1660).]
[Footnote 74: Those of Rochefoucault.]
[Footnote 75: In 1626 she was in debt to the amount of £6662 16s. 9d. to
various tradesmen; it was her custom, as that of former Queen-Consorts, to
employ chiefly foreign tradesmen and workmen.]
[Footnote 76: The Queen saw it twice; the music was written by Simon Ivy
and Henry Lawes.]
[Footnote 77: _Cal. S.P. Dom._, 1625-6, p. 273.]
[Footnote 78: In later days Henrietta Maria could say with Katharine of
Aragon,
"I am not such a truant since my coming
As not to know the language I have liv'd in."
for her children grew up unable to speak French, and Mme de Motteville says
that she had spoilt her French by talking English. Perhaps even now it was
only the accent which was at fault. Probably she never wrote English with
ease. Her first letter written in that language is to Lord Finch; the date
is about 1641. Green: _Letters of Queen Henrietta Maria_, p. 28.]
[Footnote 79: _The Shepherd's Paradise: a comedy_ (1659).]
[Footnote 80: Sir John Suckling: "A Session of the Poets."]
[Footnote 81: He was the Queen's Lord Steward.]
[Footnote 82: Edmund Waller.]
[Footnote 83: The following description of the Queen is written by a
Catholic hand: "Seremissima Maria Regina quinque ac viginti circiter
annorum, figurâ corporis parvâ, sed venustissimâ, crine cum suo Rege
consimili [dark chestnut] constitutione corporis primâ, de qua hac virtutum
Epitome quod formosissima, quod in ætatis vere, quod Regina, in Aula
deliciis, et voluptatibus affluente, atque etiam Religionibus dispari, nec
vel lerissimam offensionem dederit."--Archives of the See of Westminster:
Status Angliæ, 1635.]
[Footnote 84: The official list of the clothes, jewels, furniture, etc.,
which the Queen brought to England and from which the above account is
taken, forms part of MS. Français, 23,600. Among the furniture are
mentioned "trois tapis de velours" and "deux grands tapis de Turquie."]
[Footnote 85: Robert Herrick: "Corinna's going a-Maying."]
[Footnote 86: The evidence of Father Philip on this point is conclusive.
See Con to Barberini: Add. MS., 15,389, f. 196.]
[Footnote 87: He was in England at the time of Bassompierre's mission.]
[Footnote 88: Aff. Etran. Ang., t. 43.]
[Footnote 89: In a secret article of the treaty between France and England,
made in 1629, it was recognized by the King of France that it was
inadvisable that Henrietta should have a large French household. Aff.
Etran. Ang., t. 43.]
[Footnote 90: Aff. Etran. Ang., t. 43.]
[Footnote 91: Fontenay-Mareuil to Richelieu (apparently). "Vos actions sont
en telle veneration par tout le monde que le Roy de la Grande Bretagne
animé d'un si bon exemple s'est enfin resolu de ruiner la Cabale qui estoit
en sa Cour dont il estime que le Roy ni vous Monsieur ne serez pas marris
puis-qu'elle avoit esté fondée par M. de Chasteauneuf et sur les mesmes
desseins que celle de France très préjudiciables aux deux royaumes.... 14
April, 1633."--Aff. Etran, Ang., t. 45.]
[Footnote 92: Richelieu thought that Mme. de Chevreuse, swayed by her love
for Holland, induced Chateauneuf to act against Weston, whom Holland hoped
to supplant.]
[Footnote 93: This clique was considered "Puritan" as against the
"Protestantism" of Portland. See chap. IV.]
[Footnote 94: "Père Philippe qui possêde la conscience de la Reyne de la
Grande Bretagne est subject du roy son Mary et establi par luy de sorte
qu'il est impossible d'y prendre aucune confiance pour les interests de
France à laquelle il ne se tient point oblige."--Letters of
Fontenay-Mareuil, French Transcripts P.R.O.]
[Footnote 95: Her son James was born October 14th, 1633.]
[Footnote 96: "La Reyne de la Grande Bretagne ne fait que commencer aussy a
se mesler des affaires laquelle bienque son Mary layme extremement il fault
de l'humeur qu'il est quelle use de grandes maniers avec luy et quelle y
aille très doucement."--Letters of French Ambassador (Senneterre). May
24th, 1635. MS. Français, 15,993.]
[Footnote 97: "J'ay beaucoup loué et remercié la Reyne de la Grande
Bretagne de son election qui est un esprit qu'elle doive conserver à elle
pour prendre plus de part dans les affaires quelle n'a fait iusques
ici."--Letter of Senneterre, February, 1636. MS. Français, 15,993.
"Al futuro applica poco confidata tutta nel Re. Bisogna che prema più di
guadagnare li ministri dello Stato de quali può essere Padrona
volendo."--Con to Barberini, Aug. 25, 1636. Add. MS., 15,389, f. 196.]
[Footnote 98: "... La reyne d'Angletera qul prendra entierement
Vostre party sy vous luy donnez la liberté du chevalier de
Jars."--Fontenay-Mareuil to Richelieu. Aff. Etran. Ang., t. 45.]
[Footnote 99: MS. Français, 15,993.]
[Footnote 100: The Queen's Grand Almoner, Du Perron, was the intermediary
in this matter. Windbank's name is not mentioned in Du Perron's letters,
but there is little doubt he is intended. Aff. Etran. Ang., t. 46.]
[Footnote 101: Aff. Etran. Ang., t. 46]
[Footnote 102: Sir Robert Ayton]
[Footnote 103: William Habington.]