That the softening of Charles' heart was due to his wife is indisputable, though her unfortunate hostility to Portland prevented her from utilizing the influence of that statesman, who was a Catholic at heart.[132] "The Queen is not unmindful to press the Catholic cause with the King as often as opportunity permits," writes a Catholic reporter[133] as early as 1632. The mere turning over of the State papers of these years reveals ample evidence of her activity. A priest who had languished seven years in the Clink prison, Catholic prisoners at York, another priest who for five years had lain in Newgate, these are some of the recipients of her mercy, taken from the records of little more than a year. "A great Princess," wrote Du Perron of her in a letter which he dispatched to Rome in 1635, "by whom religion exists in this Kingdom, and who is the refuge of the poor Catholics, who, thanks to God and by the clemency of the King, whom this virtuous Princess has inclined in our favour, have enjoyed during the four years I have been here a greater liberty than has ever been seen since the change of religion, and which we hope will continually increase, provided that it please God to preserve the King and to favour the good designs of our Mistress."[134]
In London Catholicism became almost fashionable. The Queen's new chapel at Somerset House,[135] where an urbane sermon by the eloquent du Perron might sometimes be heard, was often visited by Protestants, of whom some, like the astrologer Lilly, were drawn by curiosity, while others came from more mixed motives. The Capuchin Fathers and their rivals the Oratorians received many visitors who came to discuss religious matters, not a few of whom were inclined by the engaging arguments of their hosts to abjure the heresy of their birth, so that little by little an imposing list of converts was compiled.[136] Sometimes the good Capuchins would open their monastery to the Protestant public, and, arranging it a little more ascetically[137] than usual, to impress the heretics, would thus help on the cause of the faith among those who flocked to see them as if, says Father Cyprien pathetically, they had been Indians, Malays, or savages. At the chapels of the ambassadors and at Somerset House English sermons were preached for the edification of the English Catholics and of the more interesting Protestant visitors. Dispensations from the action of the recusancy laws were given by the Crown in such numbers as to alarm the Puritans.[138] The recusants were relieved of part[139] of the financial burden which the law bound upon them, and, above all, it began to be whispered that the King, whose devotion to his wife was well known, was beginning to look with favour upon the Catholics. His objection to them had always been political rather than religious, and was based upon his suspicion of their loyalty and upon his dread of the deposing power claimed by the Pope. Henrietta's constant endeavour was to disabuse her husband's mind of this, perhaps not unreasonable, prejudice. She met with fair success, so that a Catholic writer felt able to describe Charles as a "Prince of most milde and sweet disposition," who suffered the partial execution of the recusancy laws rather from political and financial than from religious reasons, and whose "great ornaments of God and Nature doe in a manner foretell that one day he shall restore this country to its former happiness, and himself become the most glorious and most renowned Monarch that ever did governe among us."[140] There was, of course, only one way by which this happy consummation could be attained, and already some sanguine spirits were beginning to think of another and happier Pole reconciling England anew to the Holy See.
And there were other and perhaps more solid grounds for hopes in the changing character of the Anglican Church, which about this time was attracting great attention among a certain school of Catholics. The results of the Elizabethan settlement were becoming apparent, and the two great parties, known then as Protestant and Puritan, now as High Church and Low Church, were beginning to stand out clearly. Liberal-minded Catholics, some of them converts from the English Universities, were learning, what the narrower type of Seminarist refused to recognize, the wide gulf which yawned between an Anglican "Protestant" and a continental Sectary. Already in the days of James a French priest[141] of Ville-aux-clercs' train was surprised by the decorum of the liturgy at Westminster Abbey, and roundly abused as liars the English Catholics of the Continent who had drawn fancy pictures of Anglican services. The religious revival, with which the name of Laud is associated, emphasized every Catholic element yet remaining in the Church of England. It was barely a century since the schism. Bérulle, living in London or at the Court, regarding all with unfriendly and prejudiced eyes, might be surprised at the total absence of all sign or memory of the old religion. But had a man of sympathy gone about among the people, or sought the lonely valleys of Yorkshire and the remote villages of Devon and Cornwall, he would have told another tale of lingering superstitions, of ancient customs which had their root in Catholic practices. Such a man as Bishop Andrewes, who died in old age in 1626, and who was the master of Laud, is a witness that the Church revival of the seventeenth century was no more a complete innovation than that of the nineteenth century, which is associated with the names of the Tractarians, to which, in many respects, it bears so close a resemblance. But under the patronage of the King and the Archbishop the movement developed rapidly. Altars were set up, decked in Catholic fashion, in most of the cathedrals and in many parish churches; Latin services were read at Oxford and Cambridge; books were published, such as Anthony Stafford's Female Glory, which might have been written by Catholic pens; a desire for a return to Catholic discipline, of which perhaps the most interesting manifestation was the Protestant nunnery at Little Gidding, was apparent in earnest Churchmen; and, above all, not only did a considerable number of conversions take place, but some of those who remained in the Anglican fold, like Bishop Goodman of Gloucester and Bishop Montague of Chichester, became enamoured of the haunting dream of corporate reunion. It is not surprising that Catholics and Puritans alike should have seen in the whole movement a tendency to a reversal of the Reformation settlement, and should equally have failed to distinguish between the staunch Anglicans, of whom Laud was the leader, and the advance-guard which really was looking to Rome. The Queen herself believed that Laud[142] was a good Catholic at heart, and there is no doubt that overtures were made to him by Catholics, while the more liberal-minded of that communion, recalling to the Pope the example of his great predecessor St. Gregory, who "did yeeld somewhat to the Britans before he could work their conversion," urged upon him the expediency of meeting half-way those erring children who already believed "the Pope of Rome to be cheefe and supreame Pastor," and of a little condescending "unto their weakness, whome unhappy errors have made infirme."[143]
Urban VIII, to whom this appeal was addressed, was one of those decorous ecclesiastics whom the counter-reformation had substituted for the more picturesque figures of Renaissance Rome. He had a kindness for Henrietta, whom he had seen when she was a baby and he was Nuncio in the French capital, on which occasion the Queen-Mother had replied to his courteous augury that the little Princess would one day be a great Queen in the prophetic words, "That will be when you are Pope." He felt a real interest in England, which he had shown in a somewhat equivocal way when, incited by Bérulle, he had urged France and Spain in 1628 to unite in attacking the faithless King of England. Circumstances, however, were now changed, and he was anxious to commend himself to Charles and Henrietta. His nephew Francesco Barberini, the Cardinal Protector of England, who shared with him the considerable, if misdirected, artistic taste of the family,[144] was equally alive to the opportunities of the hour, and he showed the King of England from time to time such attentions as were most acceptable to a monarch who was not only the patron of Rubens and Van Dyck, but was himself one of the best judges of art in Europe. Barberini allowed a large number of statues and pictures to be exported from Rome to England, while he sent over as gifts choice pictures painted by Leonardo and Correggio and other masters of the Renaissance, together with a Bacchus by the hand of the still living Guido Reni, "understanding that His Majesty was a great admirer of such curiosities."[145] Finally, he induced the haughty Bernini to sculpture the busts of the King of England and of his Queen, in which task the great sculptor is said to have read a tragic fate in the long, melancholy lines of the countenance of Charles Stuart.
But the more serious results of the intercourse between Rome and England—results which had no small influence on future events—touched another side of Henrietta's dealings with the English Catholics.
The history of the Catholic Church in England, from the Reformation onwards, is a curious mixture of heroic endurance and of sordid squabbles among those who, in the face of a common enemy, should have shown above all an united front. The disputes which raged between the secular clergy and the religious Orders on the subject of Episcopal jurisdiction were at an acute stage when Henrietta came into England, and in the course of the next few years the feeling became so bitter on both sides that the seculars did not scruple to accuse the Jesuits, the protagonists of the regulars, of heinous crimes, such as the instigation of the Powder Plot,[146] while these latter, in their turn, are said to have taken their revenge by disseminating information important to the Government which led to the banishment of the Bishop of Chalcedon.[147]
It was only natural that each party should desire the favour of the young Queen. The Jesuits, who commanded the larger following among the English Catholics, were the more objectionable to the Government and the nation, who considered them meddlers in matters of State, and who remembered, with a vividness not decreased by the Powder Plot, the career and the writings of Father Robert Parsons. Charles' dislike of them[148] was inherited from his father, who on one occasion broke off a conversation most favourable to the Catholics to assert that never should a daughter-in-law of his be under Jesuit direction. Another person whose opinion was likely to weigh with Henrietta, Father Bérulle, had so Protestant a hatred of the Society that in 1628 he used his powerful influence to prevent the dispatch to England of a Grand Almoner[149] who was believed to regard it with favour. The daughter of Henry IV must surely have felt an antipathy as strong as that of any Stuart for those whom many held responsible for her father's murder. In short, the secular clergy had some reason for hope, even setting aside the fact that the Jesuits were the soul of the pro-Spanish party which dominated English Catholicism, while they, under their pro-French Bishop, had a certain leaning to France, of which they were prepared to make the most now that a French Queen sat upon the throne of England.
It was a blow to these worthy men that they were not permitted to serve the Queen's chapel, for which office they possessed, certainly in their own eyes, every qualification.[150] It was a greater blow when, owing doubtless to the machinations of the Jesuits, the Bishop of Chalcedon was banished.[151] But, after all, this untoward event took place while the Queen's influence was still small. As it grew, and with it the general prosperity of the Catholics, the secular clergy took heart again.
Henrietta cared little or nothing for Bishop Smith personally, and his connection with Richelieu was by this time small recommendation to her. But it galled her pride that whereas there had been a Bishop in England on her arrival now there was none, and she probably believed, what even the cautious Du Perron on one occasion admitted, that the regulars were jealous of her as a Frenchwoman, and unwilling that she should have too great honour as a mother in Israel. It was whispered among the secular clergy that the Queen was "all for the Bishop and his jurisdiction" in spite of the efforts of the Jesuits to win over not only her, but Father Philip. Their hopes were not unfounded. Henrietta was so far roused as to write a strongly worded letter to the Pope on behalf of the Bishop, who was out of favour not only with the English Government, but with the authorities at Rome. She begged the Holy Father to restore "this good father to his children,"[152] and she entreated him, in words that are no obscure hit at the Jesuits and their friends the English Catholics, not to allow so good a prelate to be oppressed by those who regarded their own interest rather than the good of religion and the union of Catholics. To strengthen her appeal she dispatched a letter at the same time to her brother's ambassador in Rome, asking him[153] to use his influence in the matter. She knew that the Bishop was a persona grata at the French Court, where his elevation to the Cardinalate was at one time desired.
Henrietta's intervention effected nothing, and Richard Smith lived and died in an exile which was due at least as much to his fellow-Catholics as to his Protestant oppressors. But in the year following she was engaged in negotiations with the Papacy as fruitful as these had been abortive.