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:—

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,

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.

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 imaginaires 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]

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

now she was learning

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

Sorrow, when it came, stripped her bare of the mocking accessories of joy.

CHAPTER IV
THE QUEEN OF THE CATHOLICS