Ever since the Irish rebellion of 1641 Puritan scandal had linked Henrietta's name with that of the rebels. The accusation as it stood was ridiculous, but the Confederate Catholics,[327] as the Irish in arms called themselves, certainly hoped something from the Catholic Queen, and in 1642 they presented to her a petition, in which they begged her "Hester-like intercession to our most gracious Prince." They heard with sympathy of her arrival in Paris, and again dispatched a letter to congratulate her on that event.
She, on her side, regarded the Confederate Catholics as rebels in arms against their lawful King; but she had a certain sympathy with them as the victims of Puritan intolerance, and she thought, like her husband, that it might be possible to turn their arms against worse enemies. With this end in view she carried on negotiations with a certain Colonel FitzWilliams, whom she found in Paris, and for the same purpose she cultivated the acquaintance of the agent of the Confederate Catholics in that city, Father O'Hartegan, the Jesuit.
This patriot, who was of a type not uncommon in his native land, was greatly pleased at the notice of the Queen of England, whom he believed to be on the point of starting for Ireland. He also thought, on account of some slight attention shown to him by Mazarin,[328] that France, which up till now had shown herself very cool to the necessities of the persecuted Irish Catholics, and had even, by the mouth of the Cardinal, lectured them on their lack of loyalty to their sovereign, was about to do her duty by them. "What is needed," remarked the Jesuit modestly, "is 200,000 crowns out of hand, with a good store of arms and ammunition, and promise of yearly favour."
O'Hartegan had reason for his good spirits. His glib tongue recommended him where he was not too well known, and he was caressed by the English Catholics in Paris and by Jermyn, who was the more entirely satisfactory to deal with, inasmuch as he had no religious scruples of any kind. Moreover, the affairs of the Confederate Catholics were going very well in Rome.
When Henrietta had been but a short time in France, the news of two deaths arrived, that of Elizabeth, Queen of Spain, and that of Maffeo Barberini, Pope Urban VIII.
The Queen of England had long ceased to be in close touch with her sister,[329] but it was thought that she would be greatly distressed at the death of the Pope, for the Barberini had always been considered her friends. But it may be that she was not altogether displeased. Any change in the personnel of the European Courts meant a fresh chance for her schemes; and though Urban had been kind enough to send her 25,000 crowns, which she, or perhaps her husband, acknowledged from Oxford in 1643,[330] yet he had shown himself somewhat callous to her larger claims, and it was perhaps not unknown to her that Cardinal Francesco, in spite of his often-repeated professions of friendship, had been the first foreign prince to contribute to the necessities of the rebellious Confederate Catholics. The new Pope, Innocent X, was believed to favour Spain as his predecessor had favoured France, but Henrietta had not lived for nearly twenty years among the English Catholics without having learned to consider this an advantage rather than otherwise in religious negotiations. She determined to send an envoy to Rome, ostensibly to congratulate the Pope upon his accession, and O'Hartegan learned that her choice had fallen upon her old friend Sir Kenelm Digby.
There are few more picturesque figures in the history of the time than that of this gentleman: a scholar who was welcome among the learned of all nations, a chemist who was half scientist, half charlatan, a naval commander who had brought home stories even more remarkable than the majority of travellers' tales, it is not surprising that he should have attracted the attention of the Queen, who liked brilliant people. She may perhaps also have been touched by the strange story of his love, which had bound him in affectionate marriage to a woman who had been the acknowledged mistress of another man. But she ought to have known better than to send him to Rome. Not only was he a vain and undependable person—a teller of strange tales, as even the courteous Evelyn described him—but the religious vacillations and experiments which had made him unwelcome a few years earlier to Urban VIII were not likely to commend him to Innocent X, who would be less attracted by his learning and accomplishments than his scholarly predecessor. The English Catholics in Paris who opposed the appointment were wiser than could be understood by Henrietta; she added to her mistake by permitting the envoy who was going to Rome on an international mission, and who above all should have shown himself strictly impartial between the rival factions of English Catholicism, to take upon him before leaving Paris the charge of advancing at the Papal Court the interests of the Chapter, which, after the banishment of the Bishop of Chalcedon, claimed ecclesiastical authority in England, whose pretensions were resolutely opposed by the regular and some even of the secular clergy.[331]
And Sir Kenelm had hardly reached Rome when the need for help became more pressing than ever, for the 14th of June of that same year was the day of Naseby.
It was a crushing defeat, and after it the royal party never really rallied. Henrietta, in her unconquerable hopefulness, thought that now, at her extremity, France would come effectually to her aid; but Mazarin feared to offend the Puritans more than he feared their dominance, and the old weary round of intrigue was pursued with the same lack of result. Even an offer from which the Queen hoped much, made to her by the Duke of Bouillon, of raising troops for England round Cologne, came to nothing, because the Cardinal believed that the real intention of Bouillon was to use these men in the interests of Spain.