Part 12 (2/2)
All those that can her Virtue doubt Her mind will in her face advise, For through the Cas.e.m.e.nts of her Eyes Her Soule is ever looking out.
”And with its beames, she doth survay Our growth in Virtue or decay, Still lighting us in Honours way!
All that are good she did inspire!
Lovers are chaste, because they know It is her will they should be so, The valiant take from her their Fire!”
The masque ”was generally approved of, specially by all strangers that were present, to be the n.o.blest and most ingenious that hath been done heere in that kind.” When, in future days, some of the company looked back upon that evening, its festivities must have seemed to them as one of the jests of him whom Heine called the Aristophanes of Heaven.
But these revels were only an interlude; Charles was not a man to fiddle while Rome was burning, and he turned to grapple as best he could with the problem before him. The country was rus.h.i.+ng on to meet its fate: the topic of the hour was that of the Parliament, to the holding of which the King was finally persuaded by a new counsellor; Strafford[222] had crossed St.
George's Channel and had entered on the last and most remarkable stage of his career.
It is thought that when years later Milton drew his portrait of the great apostate of heaven, he had in his mind this man who was to many the great apostate of earth: that character of inevitable greatness which is in the Miltonic Satan is also in the royalist statesman, who scorned the weaker spirits of his time, much as the fiend despised the weaker spirits of heaven and h.e.l.l. Neither Charles nor Henrietta had ever truly loved him.
Greatness disturbs and frightens smaller minds, and the Queen had other reasons to regard him coldly. He was not handsome (though she noted and remembered years after his death that he had the most beautiful hands in the world), he was unversed in the courtier-like arts which she loved, he was the friend of Spain rather than of France, and above all his policy in Ireland was strongly anti-Catholic. Nevertheless, experience and trouble were opening her eyes. Lady Carlisle, Strafford's close friend, had done something to prepare his way with the Queen, and the sense of common danger was coming to complete her work.
On April 13th, 1640, the Short Parliament met. Charles, for the first time for eleven years, stood face to face with the representatives of his people, representatives for the most part hostile, for the elections had gone badly, and few of his or the Queen's friends had been returned.
Nevertheless, he was hopeful, for he held what he and perhaps what his advisers believed to be a trump card. He had probably throughout his reign been aware that France had not forgotten her ancient alliance with Scotland. He had recently been reminded in a sufficiently startling manner that Scotland on her side had an equally long memory. He possessed evidence of a letter written by the rebellious Scots to the King of France, evidence on which he acted while Parliament was sitting by sending Lord Loudon and others of the Scotch Commissioners to the Tower. It was not yet forty years since the union of the two Crowns. The Scotch were unpopular in England, and the favour shown to them by the King and Queen was resented. Scotland and France, whose alliance had more than once embarra.s.sed England, were both old enemies. It argues no special lack of insight in either Charles or his wife that they thought the discovery of these practices would lead to a great revulsion of feeling against the Scots in the minds of the English Puritans. That it did not do so is a remarkable proof of the enlightened self-interest of the latter, and of their power of setting a religious and political bond of union above an antiquated national prejudice.
Meanwhile, in this moment of crisis, what were the special interests and influences surrounding the Queen? It is hardly too much to say that not one of them did not contribute in some measure to the final catastrophe.
Henrietta had not desired the presence of Mary de' Medici, but when the poor old lady arrived, wearied by troubles and journeyings, her filial heart could not refuse her a warm welcome, and, little by little, the sense of home and kindred, to which she had been a stranger for so many years, overcame the reluctancy of independence and expediency. Some of her happiest hours in these troubled days were spent in her mother's pleasant rooms at St. James's, chatting about her children and her domestic concerns. It would have been well had this been all, but the exiled Queen was not a lady to content herself with the role of a devoted grandmother.
She felt that she had an opportunity of recapturing the daughter who had escaped from her influence, and she used it to the full. Henrietta came to her for advice in many matters, specially those which concerned religion, and she even allowed herself to be weaned from the fascinating Madame de Chevreuse.
That restless lady began to feel herself less comfortable in England soon after the arrival of the Queen-Mother, for whose coming she had wished, but who, indeed, had never liked the confidante of Anne of Austria. She tried her hand first at one scheme then at another, now intriguing for Montagu at Rome, now aiming higher and attempting to render a striking service to Spain by bringing about an alliance between Strafford and the Marquis of Velada; but all the while she had an uncomfortable conviction that her power over the Queen of England, which at the beginning of her visit had been considerable, was decreasing. Perhaps Henrietta discovered the duplicity of the woman ”who said much good of Spain, and yet to the Queen called herself a good Frenchwoman.”[223] Certainly she was not very sorry when, in May, 1640, a rumour that the Duke of Chevreuse was coming to England frightened his wife, who had no wish to meet him, across the Channel to Flanders. The d.u.c.h.ess, at her departure, still boasted of the favour of the English Court, and a.s.sured her friends that the Queen had pressed her to return whenever she felt inclined to do so, an invitation which Henrietta, who had marked her att.i.tude by giving her a costly jewel as the pledge of a long farewell, somewhat warmly denied. With more truth she might have boasted of the brilliancy of the escort which set out with her from London. At her side were the Marquis of Velada, the Duke of Valette, another victim of Richelieu, whom Charles, against his better judgment, had been persuaded to receive at his Court, and, as might have been expected, the faithful Montagu. These gentlemen left her when eight miles of the road was traversed, but, by the orders of the King himself, she was accompanied to the sh.o.r.es of Flanders by the Earl of Newport to ensure her against any annoyance.
Madame de Chevreuse was gone, and at an opportune moment; but the evil effects of her sojourn remained, and manifested themselves specially in a matter to which the Queen gave considerable attention, and which, like everything else she touched at this moment, turned to her misfortune.
When death had settled the question of Con's candidature she was not diverted from her attempt to procure a cardinal's hat for one of her husband's subjects. Her choice was not a happy one. Walter Montagu, since his conversion to the Catholic Church, may, as Henrietta claimed, have lived an exemplary life; but he could hardly be considered suitable for high ecclesiastical preferment. He was, moreover, a man of many enemies.
Charles disliked him so much that, when Sir Robert Ayton died in 1638, he told his wife that she might have a Catholic for her secretary provided she did not choose Walter Montagu.[224] Richelieu's opinion of him was such that he made him the text of his sweeping generalization: ”all Englishmen are untrustworthy.” The Cardinal, indeed, wished to see no subject of the King of England attain to the coveted honour, and he suggested that the Bishop of Angouleme, who had the supreme merit of being a subject of the King of France, was the only suitable candidate; but he would have preferred almost any one to Montagu, for did he not know that that s.h.i.+fty person, through the mouth of Madame Chevreuse, was promising complete devotion to the King of Spain in return for support at Rome? The Queen's persistence in this matter annoyed the Roman authorities. Cardinal Barberini, in spite of his personal liking for Montagu, never entertained for a moment the idea of acceding to her request; indeed, he instructed Rosetti, who had replaced Con as envoy in England, to tell her frankly that the thing was impossible. It was an unfortunate moment for the question to have arisen, for not only was it of great importance to avoid friction with Richelieu, but the time was coming when Henrietta would have other and more important requests to make to Cardinal Barberini. That observant politician had his eyes attentively fixed upon the English troubles, as to whose progress he was kept well informed by Rosetti. The courtly young envoy--he was barely thirty and of a n.o.ble Ferrarese family--had been charmed on his arrival not only by the kindness of the King and Queen, but by the liberty which the Catholics enjoyed. It seemed that permanent communications between the Court of Rome and the Court of England had been established, ”the King approving and the heretics themselves not objecting”;[225] but stern facts soon forced him to correct his first impressions. The feeling of the nation was rising against the Catholics, and the flame was fanned by the injudicious conduct of the Queen-Mother, who greatly patronized Rosetti as she had Con before him. When, in the Short Parliament, Pym voiced the religious indignation of the people, the ”divinity which hedges a King” was still strong enough to restrain him in some measure when referring to the Queen of England. No such scruple deterred him in speaking of a foreign ecclesiastic and of a foreign Queen, the latter of whom was hated, not only on religious grounds, but as the recipient of large sums of money--as much 100 per day--which the country could ill afford.
Henrietta was becoming more and more busy with matters of high politics. It was evident that the Parliament was a failure, but one gleam of brightness cheered the darkness of its last days. Strafford, exerting to the utmost his unrivalled powers, was able to win over in some degree the Upper House, and the Lords by a considerable majority voted that the relief of the King's necessities should have precedence of the redress of grievances. It seemed a great victory, and Henrietta, dazzled by this unexpected success, recognized at last what the man was whom she had slighted. ”My Lord Strafford is the most faithful and capable of my husband's servants,”[226]
she said publicly, with the generosity of praise from which she never shrank. Nevertheless, there were those, justified by the event, who doubted the real value of such a service; the spirit of the Commons was not thus to be broken, and on May 5th the King dissolved the a.s.sembly which is known, from its twenty-three days of existence, as the Short Parliament.
After the breaking of Parliament the deep discontent of the nation burst forth in riots and in a flood of scandalous pamphlets directed against unpopular characters. Henrietta, who was believed to have counselled the dissolution, lost much of the limited popularity she had hitherto enjoyed, and behind her again the populace saw the sinister figure of her mother stirring up strife in England as she had in France. Rosetti, who, as the symbol of the dreaded approximation to popery, was particularly odious, was thought to be in such danger of personal violence that Mary de' Medici offered him the shelter of her apartments. He refused, perhaps wisely; for a few days later a letter was brought to the King threatening to ”chase the Pope and the Devil from St. James, where is lodged the Queene, Mother of the Queene.” Mary, when she heard of this letter, was so frightened that she refused to go to bed at all the following night, though she was protected by a guard, captained by the Earl of Holland and Lord Goring, which had nothing to do, as the threat proved to be one of those empty insults of which the times were prolific.
Henrietta, who was not by nature easily alarmed, began to appreciate the seriousness of the pa.s.s to which her husband's affairs had come. She was in bad health, and she seems already to have thought of retiring to her native land for her confinement, which was imminent;[227] but weakness of body could not impair the activity of her brain, and at this time she definitely entered upon that course of action which, perhaps more than any other, has brought upon her the adverse judgment of posterity, and which, though its details were unknown to her enemies, injured the very cause which it was designed to aid. In an evil hour she opened negotiations with the Papacy, with a view to obtaining money to be used against her husband's subjects.
Since her marriage she had carried on a somewhat frequent correspondence with the Pope and with Cardinal Barberini, whose kind letters led her to believe that she was an object of greater importance in their eyes than was actually the case. She was further drawn to them by the kindness they had shown to Montagu, who himself was a little led astray by flattering words.
It is significant that he appears at this time as the Queen's chief adviser. He executed many of the duties of the secretarys.h.i.+p he was not allowed to hold, and he was delaying a long-meditated journey to Rome, where he intended to become a Father of the Oratory, to help his royal mistress in her troubles and perplexities. Even the fidelity of her servants turned to the Queen's destruction, for a more injudicious adviser than Montagu could hardly have been found.
There is another actor whose part is more remarkable: Francis Windbank, who began his career as a disciple of Laud and was to end it a few years later in the bosom of the Catholic Church, was no free-lance like Montagu, but a responsible Secretary of State. His personal relations with the Queen do not seem to have been very close, but he was in constant communication with her agent in Rome, Sir William Hamilton. As early as the end of 1638 the latter wrote to one of the Secretaries of State, who may almost certainly be identified with Windbank, a.s.suring him that the Pope had expressed himself anxious to contribute money for the Scotch war if there were need of it. Charles, to whose knowledge this letter came, was exceedingly angry, as well he may have been, and threatened to remove Hamilton from his post if he ever lent ear again to such discourse.[228] But Windbank was no whit abashed. A few months later he held a remarkable conversation with Con, who, of course, at once reported it to his superiors in Rome. The level-headed Scotchman, hardly able to believe his ears, listened to the Secretary of State propounding his views as to the help which the Pope ought to send to the King of England. ”And what is the smallest sum which would be accepted?” he asked jokingly, wis.h.i.+ng to pa.s.s the matter off lightly. ”Well,” replied Windbank in deadly earnest, ”one hundred thousand pounds is the least that I should call handsome.”[229]
It was not until the spring of 1640, when Con had been replaced by Rosetti, that a further appeal was made to the Pope for a.s.sistance. Windbank again was the intermediary, but the reply of Cardinal Barberini, which was sent to Rosetti, was communicated not only to him but to the Queen. Henrietta was a little out of favour in Rome. Not only had her persistence in the matter of Montagu's promotion caused annoyance, but her intention of sending Sir Kenelm Digby, who (not unjustly in the light of future events) was considered an indifferent Catholic, to take the place of Sir William Hamilton, was a further disservice both to her and to Montagu, who supported Digby's candidature, and who had written warmly in his favour to the Roman authorities; but of the Cardinal's feeling towards her Henrietta was probably quite unaware. It is not known what part, if any, she took in Windbank's application, but it is likely that she was both grieved and surprised when she was informed that Cardinal Barberini, in spite of the sympathy which he felt with the King and Queen of England in their troubles, could not hold out the hope of any substantial a.s.sistance from the Holy Father unless Charles became a Catholic. None knew better than she the improbability of such an event. Nevertheless, she only laid aside for a while the scheme of papal aid, to take it up again at what she considered a more favourable moment.[230]
She had much to occupy her mind. The summer of 1640 witnessed the futilities of the second war against the Scots, to which, in foreboding of spirit, she saw her husband depart. The state of public feeling was growing worse and worse, and the King's own servants were not faithful to him, so that one of the most acute observers then in England wrote that affairs had come to such a pa.s.s that ”if G.o.d does not lend His help we shall see great confusion and distraction in this kingdom.”[231]
When even the captaincy of Strafford had failed to give victory to the royal armies, there was a general conviction that another Parliament would be necessary. Charles, following an archaic precedent, summoned a council of peers to meet him at York, and some of these n.o.blemen, before setting out from London, paid a visit to Henrietta. They knew well her power, and they begged that her influence with her husband might be used for the calling together of the estates of the realm. Mary de' Medici was present at this interview, and it is said that she put into her daughter's mouth the words of conciliation which the latter used. The n.o.ble visitors departed, and then the Queen of England went out and selecting a messenger to whose fidelity she could trust, she bade him bear to the King her persuasions for the holding of a Parliament.
Her motive for what is in some respects a strange act is clear. Even now she did not gauge the depths of the discontent of the nation, and with that hopefulness which was part of her nature she believed that a Parliament, without imposing intolerable conditions, would vote sufficient money to enable the King to deal with the menacing Scots. She was mistaken, as she so often was. If the English Puritans had not called the ancient enemy into the land, they had at any rate no desire to see the Scotch army go thence until it had done its part in putting pressure on a King whom they regarded with a distrust which was becoming hatred.
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