Blainville arrived in the late autumn of 1625. He was received with the courtesy due to his position as Ambassador-Extraordinary—a title which he had been given at the instance of Richelieu to overawe the King of England—but from the first he had little hope of accomplishing the objects of his mission. The Queen, stung by the harshness of her husband, who sometimes did not speak to her for days, goaded by the insolence of Buckingham, and surrounded by those who taught her to despise the language, the manners, and the religion of her adopted country, seemed to be at the beginning of the unhappy married life which so many princesses have had to endure. She was, moreover, more melancholy than usual, owing to the recent departure of Bérulle, which she regretted so deeply that her attendants were able to count more than twenty sighs as she sat at the table on the day he left her. The members of her ecclesiastical household were correspondingly depressed, for the loss of the distinguished Oratorian exposed them to even worse treatment than they had experienced before. The Bishop of Mende himself, on whose young shoulders the burden of responsibility had descended, could not keep up his spirits. He retired to his room, where he sat alone brooding upon the hard fate which had brought him to a barbarous and heretical isle, and whence he refused to move except to perform his religious duties and to wait upon the Queen.
The King of England was hardly in a happier mood. That he had legitimate cause of complaint cannot be denied, and a letter which about this time he wrote to Buckingham proves that he had almost made up his mind to the only real cure for his troubles. The extraordinarily violent tone of this epistle suggests that his dislike to his wife's foreign attendants required by this time no fostering from the Duke. It even seems as if the favourite were less hostile to them than his master.[44]
With such a state of feeling prevailing at Court, Blainville's position was not a comfortable one; but he remained there until an incident occurred which is believed to have occasioned his withdrawal and which deserves a detailed description, as it illustrates admirably the petty persecution to which the high-spirited Henrietta, the daughter of a hundred kings, was subjected.[45]
The second Parliament of the reign, whose short existence was to be ended by the impeachment of Buckingham, met in the early spring of 1626. Henrietta, who was anxious to see the opening procession, had made arrangements to witness it from a gallery situated in the Palace at Whitehall, and she was annoyed when on the very day of the ceremony her husband told her that he wished her to go to the house of the Countess of Buckingham, whence a particularly fine view of the proceedings could be obtained. Still, she was always compliant in trifles, and at this time she desired to conciliate Charles by prompt obedience in such commands as her sensitive conscience could approve. She therefore signified her assent without, however, considering the matter of grave consequence.
It happened that just before the hour of the procession, when Henrietta was about to set out for the Countess' apartments, a heavy shower of rain came on. The young Queen, looking out on the unsheltered court which she would have to cross to reach her goal, shrank back, fearing for her elaborately dressed hair, which she did not wish to have done again for the evening festivities. She told her husband, who was with her, that she thought the weather too bad to go, and asked him to conduct her to the gallery which had been her first choice. To her great surprise he was much displeased, and it was only after a somewhat bitter altercation that he complied with her request, leading her to her place and taking leave of her with cold politeness.
Henrietta was sitting quietly, overcoming her vexation, when, to her surprise, the Duke of Buckingham, from whose bold eye and arrogant bearing she instinctively shrank, appeared. Rude he always was in his dealings with her, but on this occasion he surpassed himself, telling her roughly that the King was exceedingly displeased with her, and that it was surprising that for a little rain she should have refused to obey the commands of her husband. The proud young French Princess could not brook such language from one of her own subjects. Haughtily she made answer that in the Court of France she had been accustomed to see the Queen her mother and the Queen her sister use their own judgment in such trifles. Nevertheless (and in this her real sweetness and desire to please appeared), she mastered herself sufficiently to plead a woman's dread of bad weather, and to request Blainville, who was at her side, to lead her again to her husband.
Charles was found to be in a less implacable mood than Buckingham had represented, and Henrietta went off to the Countess' apartments, hoping that the storm had blown over. She was soon undeceived. The Duke sought her again at his mother's house, and with unpardonable insolence again assured her that her husband was very angry with her, and that he did not wish her to remain in her present quarters. It was too much. Henrietta's wrath blazed forth. "I have sufficiently shown my obedience," she cried; "but unhappy me! obedience in England seems to be a crime." Buckingham, who was bent on making himself disagreeable all round, disregarding the Queen's protest, now turned to Blainville and remarked in a meaning way that he believed there were those who from motives of superstition had hindered her presence at a ceremony of the Knights of the Bath, and that he was surprised that her friends should be so injudicious. The French Ambassador, who knew well what was in the Duke's mind, and who had no wish to disclaim responsibility, replied with spirit that he would rather advise the Queen of England to absent herself from fifty ceremonies than counsel her to take part in one which was of doubtful permission for a Catholic. On receiving this answer the unwelcome visitor withdrew.
Henrietta had a brave spirit, but the conduct of Buckingham had cut her to the quick, since it humiliated her in sight of the Court. That night, in the privacy of her own apartments, she appealed to her husband, whose cold looks and manners informed her that she was not forgiven. She was, she said, the most unhappy creature in the world, seeing him thus keep up his anger against her for so long. She would die rather than give him just cause for offence, and anyhow, whatever his feelings, could he not treat her in public with more respect, as otherwise it would be thought that he did not care for her. Pleadingly the young wife looked at her husband, for even at the worst she had some faith in the goodness and kindness of his natural character apart from the influence of Buckingham.
But Charles, with a heavy pomposity, which in happier circumstances would certainly have made Henrietta laugh, replied that he had grave cause of offence. The Queen had said that it was raining, and that if she went out in the rain she would soil her dress and disarrange her hair. "I did not know that such remarks were faults in England," was her sarcastic answer.
The King left his wife's apartments unappeased, and not all her entreaties, nor those of Madame de Tillières, whom he regarded with less disfavour than any other Frenchwoman, could induce him to return. He only sent a most unwelcome emissary, in the person of the Duke of Buckingham, who reiterated his assurances of the King's wrath, and informed Henrietta that if within two days she did not ask pardon her husband would treat her as a person unworthy to be his wife, and would drive away all the French, Madame S. Georges included, he thoughtfully added, knowing well that that lady held the first place in his auditor's affections.