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 complementary 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, who, neither of them 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.