This was the sort of talk which delighted me.
“Doubtless you have some growing to do yet,” he said, and that was the only allusion to my somewhat short stature.
Then he told me about the Court of England. “Less elegant, I fear, than yours here in Paris, but we manage to enjoy life.”
I replied that I could well imagine he did that wherever he went.
He told me that he very much hoped to complete his mission successfully. “My Prince is a very impatient man where some matters are concerned,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
I liked him very much and during those days I lived in a whirl of excitement.
It was Mamie who told me that everything was not going as smoothly as they had at first expected.
“If you married Prince Charles there would have to be a dispensation from the Pope,” she said, “because of the difference in religion. Catholic France and Protestant England.”
“If ever I became Queen of England I should try to save my subjects from damnation,” I replied firmly.
“Yes,” said Mamie lightly, “but what if they should determine to save you?”
“How could they? I am a Catholic and therefore saved.”
She looked at me with her head on one side as she did sometimes but she did not pursue the matter; but when I had interviews with my mother which I did constantly at this time, she impressed on me the need to remember always that I was a Catholic and that it was my duty to bring people to the true Faith.
But Charles, the handsome young man in the miniature, what of him?
“It is the English,” my mother explained. “They insist on their Kings being Protestant. It is very misguided of them and your first task will be to bring him to the true Faith…if there should be a marriage.”
I thought about it and burned with zeal. I imagined Charles in time thanking me. “But for your coming I should have died in ignorance. I should have spent eternity burning in hell.”
It was a pretty picture.
Then there was Mère Magdalaine who was constantly advising me. If it should be God’s will that I should go to England I must not give myself up to frivolous pleasures. I must remember that I had a duty there.
There came a time when it seemed that the marriage might not take place. There were too many difficulties, but the main one was the difference in religion. The English were very reluctant to accept a Catholic Queen. They had deplored the idea of a Spanish marriage—for they saw the Spaniards as their greatest enemies; but because an alliance with that country through marriage had been mooted and had come to nothing they were so pleased and almost ready to accept the French proposition as the lesser of two evils. But, of course, the religious aspect still persisted, and it was growing to such proportions that the Duke of Buckingham—who was in charge of negotiations and eager to see them successful—came to the conclusion that Lord Kensington, suave and charming court gallant though he might be, was not capable of handling complicated politics. So he sent out Lord Carlisle.
It was some time afterward that I discovered why the marriage almost did not take place.
The matter of Frederick and the Palatinate which had put an end to the Spanish negotiations cropped up again. King James wanted the Palatinate restored to his son-in-law, but the French had no wish to support Germany, which was staunchly Protestant.
There was another reason for delay. The French wanted King James to promise to protect Catholics in England and without his promise they refused to conclude a marriage treaty so it certainly seemed at one point that marriage negotiations were about to be broken off and I should have to forget the handsome face in the miniature, which had haunted my dreams since I had seen it.
I suppose my brother and my mother thought that if this marriage did not come about it might be difficult for me to find another opportunity as good as this one and decided that it was better to be a little lenient if by being so they could get me to England where I might be instrumental in doing good work for the Catholic cause.
A great deal of all this I learned later but the fact was that my brother and Lord Carlisle talked together privately and my brother hinted that the English King need not take the religious controversy too seriously. If he would just give his word that the Catholics might practice their religion privately all might be well.
Both sides hesitated. But the English, no less than the French, were eager for the marriage and finally they decided to make concessions to each other.
I was to have full freedom to worship in the true Faith; I was to be given control of the religious instruction of any children I should have up to the age of thirteen; I was to have my own chapel wherever I was, together with my priests and almoners and chaplains.
The next step was to get the dispensation from Rome.
It came at length and with it was a letter for me written by the Holy Father himself. I felt weighed down with responsibility when I read it.
It was simply because I was going to be Queen of a heretic country that he was giving the dispensation. I should have power—perhaps even over my husband—and it would be my duty to devote myself to the salvation of him and his poor sad subjects. I had the opportunity of being like Queen Esther—the Jewish virgin—who was chosen to be his Queen by the Persian King Ahasuerus and who brought about the deliverance of her people, or like Bertha who married Ethelbert of Kent—in that very country to which I was going—and converted him and spread Christianity among the Anglo Saxons. The eyes of the Catholic world would be turned on me.
My fingers shook as I penned my reply to the Holy Father. I assured him that I was aware of the great task which lay ahead of me and that I would endeavor with all my heart to carry out the work assigned to me by Heaven, and to raise my children in the Catholic Faith.
After I had written that letter I knelt and prayed that God would give me the strength to do what I had to do.
So with the Pope’s dispensation, there was no longer need for delay. Preparations for the proxy wedding began. It was decided that May would be the best month. It was then March.
News came from England that King James was ill. No one thought he was near to death so therefore it was a shock when on that cold March day news came to Paris that he was dead and his son, my bridegroom-to-be, was King Charles the First of England.
It was a beautiful May morning when I was escorted to the episcopal residence where I was dressed for my wedding. It would only be a proxy wedding and it seemed very strange to be married to a man whom I had never seen, although such an arrangement was commonplace in royal circles. At least I had seen a miniature of him. I wondered if he were thinking the same of me. But perhaps he would have other matters than his wedding with which to occupy himself as he had, only two months before, become a king.
I stood very still while they dressed me. I could not help feeling happy to wear such clothes. Clothes always had an effect on me and I believe I could not have been completely unhappy while I was wearing a beautiful gown. Of course I was very young then and perhaps more thoughtless and frivolous than many of my age. Now I stood patiently while they put on my gown. It was made of cloth of gold and silver and the material was spattered with golden fleurs-de-lis and here and there diamonds twinkled on it. My mother had said I must have the most elaborate of dresses to match the Duke of Buckingham, who would most surely be elegantly attired. At that time it had been thought that he would be my proxy bridegroom but he had been unable to leave England because his presence was necessary there on account of the death of the late King.
Strangely enough the choice of proxy had fallen on the Duc de Chevreuse because he was a distant connection of King Charles. I wondered fleetingly if he would be reminded of his own wedding and whether he regretted having married his fascinating wife, who seemed to create scandal wherever she was.
Mamie hovered about me while they placed the little crown on my head. It was very becoming.
“Crowns suit you,” she said.
I smiled happily
. I should have to go away but as she would come with me my qualms were considerably reduced.
The morning slipped quickly away and I was glad when we set out for Notre Dame. It was a very slow procession that passed to the west door of Notre Dame for we were to be married outside the cathedral as La Reine Margot and my father had been because marriage in which one of the participants was a Protestant could not take place inside.
The Swiss guards and trumpeters were followed by a great assembly of knights, heralds and marshals. Then I came in my beautiful glittering dress with Louis on one side of me and my brother Gaston on the other—followed by my mother and Queen Anne.
As we neared the platform, which had been placed at the west door, and I stepped under the canopy, my brother Louis stood aside and the Duc de Chevreuse came to stand beside me. He looked very handsome in black velvet with slits in his jacket to show a lining of cloth of gold. Across his chest was a sash covered in diamonds, and as diamonds also sparkled on his coat he glittered almost as much as I did.
So I was married—albeit by proxy—to the King of England.
After the ceremony I went into the cathedral to celebrate Mass with my family, but the Duc de Chevreuse, as proxy for King Charles, did not join us and went off with Lord Kensington, as Charles would have done had he been present. This incident called attention to the differences in my religion and that of my bridegroom and I felt a little sad while I burned with zeal to begin his conversion.
After Mass I could return to the episcopal residence and rest awhile before the banquet began. I spent the time with Mamie, who chattered excitedly about the ceremony and the splendor of my diamonds and those of the Duc de Chevreuse.
It was a merry banquet which took place that evening. I sat at the head of the table on the right-hand side of my brother, and my mother was on the other side of me. I noticed that they paid a new deference to me. I was no longer little Madame Henriette; I had become a Queen.
Afterward I danced with the Duc de Chevreuse as my partner and I tried to see, instead of his face, the one in the miniature; then I danced with Louis and after that Anne and I did one of our special ballets. I felt excited dancing with Anne because I could remind myself that we were now of equal rank.
It was not an unhappy day by any means though an exhausting one, and I was really rather glad to get out of my splendid gown and lie down to sleep.
“This is my wedding night,” I said to Mamie.
She plumped up the pillows and said: “It will not be long before you sleep with your bridegroom beside you.”
I was thoughtful and she suddenly put her arms about me and held me tightly.
“He has a kind and gentle face,” she said reassuringly.
And that was my wedding night.
Lord Kensington was made Earl of Holland as a reward for having brought about the marriage and two weeks after the ceremony the Duke of Buckingham came to France. He created quite a stir. He was so debonair and so handsome; and he brought with him a most magnificent wardrobe. “All the clothes,” said Mamie, “that he had intended to wear as proxy bridegroom.”
When he was first presented to me he was dressed in white satin covered with diamonds. Mamie heard that the suit alone—considering the number of precious stones on it—was valued at twenty thousand pounds. And that was just one outfit. He loved diamonds and everything he possessed was decorated with them; they were in his hat and even the feather was decorated with them; and they were on the hilt of his sword and on his spurs.
It was as though he wanted everyone to know how rich and important he was. In fact, it has been said that he was the most important man in England. King James had doted on him—but then King James was apt to dote on handsome young men; and now he had become the close friend and adviser to Charles. He had arrived ostensibly to escort me to England but Mamie believed he might have other motives as well. He wanted to make an alliance with my country against Spain.
However, there he was in all his glory and glitter, behaving as though he was an equal of my brother, my mother and the young Queen. There were great festivities to honor him, for we were still celebrating the wedding and it had been decided that after a week of entertainments for the Duke, we should begin the journey to England.
I was not to be torn completely from my family just at first, for my mother with Louis, Anne and Gaston were to accompany me as far as the coast. There I should leave them and cross the Channel in the company of the Duke of Buckingham, and Kensington—now Earl of Holland. The Duc de Chevreuse as my proxy bridegroom was to stay with me until I was passed over to my real one; and as the Duc came, so did his flighty Duchesse. I was quite reconciled to leaving my country—after all none of my family had been very affectionate toward me—as long as I was accompanied by Mamie as my chief lady-in-waiting.
It was a merry party and as we passed people came hurrying out of their houses to cheer us. There was intrigue afoot—romantic intrigue. This would always occur where the Duchesse de Chevreuse happened to be. What could be more exciting for her than to have a lover actually in the party.
Mamie said that she and the Earl of Holland were quite blatant and she wondered the Duc de Chevreuse was not aware of the flagrant immorality of his wife.
It was not long before the behavior of another couple in our entourage began to demand our notice. Mamie mentioned it to me.
We had ridden far and she was helping me to bed one night when she said: “Have you noticed the Duke of Buckingham and the Queen?”
“What of them?” I asked.
“It would seem that the Duke is romantically inclined toward the Queen.”
“Anne!”
“Anne indeed. I must say it does not surprise me. Louis is a most negligent husband.”
“The Duke just admires her.”
“And she likes to be admired.”
“You’re imagining this. I believe you do imagine things.”
“Perhaps…a little. But I have a sharp pair of eyes.”
We talked of other things, but the next day when we continued our journey I did notice that Buckingham contrived to ride beside the Queen and engage her in conversation. There was a great deal of laughter, and Anne’s eyes sparkled with delight while my Lord Buckingham appeared to be very pleased with himself.
So although I lacked a husband in the flesh, what with the accomplished affair of the Duchesse and Holland, which was carried on quite blatantly in the presence of the cuckolded husband, and the aspirations of the Duke of Buckingham toward the Queen, I was beginning to learn a great deal about existing morals.
We had not gone very far—Compiègne as a matter of fact—when Louis began to have one of his shivering fits. Our mother was greatly concerned and insisted that we stop while physicians were called. This threw a slight gloom over the proceedings and several of the festivities which had been arranged for us were canceled. I was not very disappointed about this, much as I loved dancing and singing and all that went to make up these entertainments, for it was rather refreshing to have a few quiet evenings in Mamie’s company.
My mother came to my room in the morning looking rather grave.
“The King is suffering from fever. I don’t think it would be wise for him to continue with his journey,” she said.
I could not believe she was worried about Louis for himself. They did not like each other. That had been obvious when the Maréchal d’Ancre had died. At the same time Louis’s death or long illness would plunge the country into disorder. There was no child of the King’s marriage, and I did not know how my mother felt about my brother Gaston who would be the next in line to the throne. However, for whatever reason, there was no doubt that she was deeply concerned about my brother’s health.
“I shall rely on what the physicians have to say,” she went on. “If they advise him to rest here, the question will be whether to wait with him or pursue our journey, but I do think it is necessary for you to get to England as soon as possible.”
I bowed my
head. I wondered why she was saying this to me. It was not as though my opinion would count. But I had forgotten. I was a Queen now.
“So…” went on my mother, “if the physicians think it is wise for him to remain in Compiègne, the rest of the party will continue the journey.”
“Yes, Madame,” I said.
“Perhaps a good night’s sleep will cure him.”
It did not. And during the next day it was decided that the journey should continue without Louis.
When we came to Amiens, my mother was very tired and admitted that she found the journey exhausting. It was not only the arduous traveling conditions which she had to endure, but there were the festivities which had been arranged in the villages and towns through which we passed. She looked very pale and when we arrived at the château where we were to spend the night, she fainted.
There was no doubt that she was ill. We called the doctors and the verdict was the same with her as it had been with my brother. Rest was needed.
There followed a conference. The Duke of Buckingham seemed to welcome a little delay, which I was sure had something to do with his pursuit of the Queen, and he said there was no need for great haste. He would send messengers to the King to explain why our progress was interrupted. He was of the opinion that we should not proceed without the Queen Mother, for we had already shed the King on the way and it would seem as though the journey were ill-fated if we had to go on without another such important member of the party.
The Earl of Holland warmly agreed with this. Their reasons were identical, but the Duke of Buckingham’s were more urgent than those of the Earl of Holland for the latter’s mistress would accompany the party to England so he would not be deprived of her company for some time. It was different with Buckingham; the Queen would leave us when we sailed, and he still had his courting to do, it seemed.
“At least,” commented Mamie, “we hope so. I would not like to think that the royal House of France might have a little cuckoo in the nest…even though the little bird had the blood of such a noble Duke.”
Loyal in Love: Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles I Page 7