Henrietta Maria

by Henrietta Haynes

Rinuccini, after a considerable delay in Paris, whence he wrote many letters to Rome expressing his views with great frankness upon the Queen of England and her advisers, pushed on to Ireland, where, far from making peace with Ormonde or with any one else, he set everybody by the ears—not a difficult task, it is true, in that island—and ended by excommunicating most of the Confederate Catholics themselves. Steps were taken by some of the victims to find out the opinion of the Sorbonne as to the validity of this sweeping ecclesiastical censure.

Meanwhile, in Paris, Henrietta was dragging on her old life of intrigue and disappointment. The presence at her side of Jermyn, whose great influence over her was generally remarked,[340] was not in her favour, either with the extreme Catholics, who disliked him as a heretic, or with the French, who considered him, with justice, to be a man of mediocre ability, and who were pleased to see that the Queen, in spite of her subservience, could sometimes assert her will against his. The French Government was becoming more and more afraid to provoke the Puritans, whom Mazarin feared to throw into the arms of Spain. The defeat of Naseby, whose importance the Queen and her friends vainly endeavoured to minimize, was followed by the hardly less disastrous day of Philiphaugh, when Montrose was overwhelmed by an army of the Covenant. Thus the year 1646 broke in gloom and despondency, which were not lightened when a scheme of the Queen's for the invasion of England by French troops was discovered by the interception of her letters.[341] In the spring affairs had so far advanced that Charles, with a confidence rendered pathetic by the event, gave himself up into the hands of the Scots, the true compatriots of a Stuart King.

For a moment there seemed to be hope, and it is possible that Charles might have recovered his crown had he been able to accept unreservedly the Covenant. His refusal to give up the Church of England, which was one of the most respectable acts of his life, brought upon him remonstrances, entreaties, and almost anger from his wife, to whom all Protestants were heretics alike. She even sent D'Avenant to him to represent her wishes on the subject; but Charles, with a violence he did not often show, drove the hapless poet from his presence with an intimation that he was never to enter it again. Mazarin at this time seems to have desired the King's restoration by means of an accommodation, though, owing to the ever-present fear of Spain, he would not openly assist him. He could not repress his scorn for the man who could throw away his crown for such a bagatelle as the Church of England. In fact, he frankly owned that he could not understand Charles. The latter had granted concessions which compromised his kingly dignity; why make a fuss about a trifle which, nevertheless, if conceded, might restore him to power? The Cardinal urged the French ambassador in England to do all he could to bring the King to reason; but the latter, who was becoming very sceptical as to the friendship of the French,[342] was not likely to listen. The chance was lost, and Charles soon found himself a prisoner in the hands of the English Presbyterians. His countrymen, to whom in the days of his power he had shown favour not always in accordance with his own interests, had sold him to his enemies.

Once again, a year later, there was a lifting of the clouds. In 1647 it became evident that the Puritan party was growing weary of the Presbyterian tyranny. As is commonly the case in revolutions, wilder and stronger spirits were crowding out the more moderate reformers who had begun the battle. The Independents, to whom in large measure the victories of Marston Moor and Naseby were due, had control of the army, and the great figure of Cromwell, which soon was to bestride England like a Colossus, was coming to the front. In the late spring it seemed as if Charles and the Presbyterians might come to terms. On June 4th a deputation from the army waited on the King at Holmby House, where he was imprisoned, took possession of his person, and carried him off to Newmarket.

The Independents showed great respect for their royal prisoner, and it seemed as if they would be willing to make an accommodation with him. Henrietta, in Paris, whither all news was quickly carried, thought with her usual hopefulness that at last, at the darkest hour, the day was dawning. There happened to be at her Court two gentlemen who seemed well fitted to act as intermediaries between Charles and the Independents; one of them, Sir John Denham, the bearer of a name which is still remembered in English literature, had improved a sojourn in prison by making friends with that worthy army chaplain Hugh Peters, who was closely connected with the Independent leaders; the other, Sir Edward Ford, was Ireton's brother-in-law. These two slipped across the Channel, and they were permitted to see the King; but whether the Queen did not feel much confidence in her envoys (and, indeed, Denham was a rash and headstrong man who died insane), or whether her restlessness would not permit her to cease from fresh attempts to improve her husband's position, she determined to send another emissary of higher standing to intermeddle in this delicate negotiation.

Just at this time Sir John Berkeley, who had distinguished himself during the war as Governor of Exeter, was returning from Holland, whither he had been to express the Queen's condolences on the death of the Prince of Orange. He was almost unknown to Henrietta personally, but she was aware of his reputation for loyalty and good sense, and she knew also perhaps that he was regarded with respect by the enemy; he had hardly arrived at S. Germain-en-Laye, where she was keeping her Court, when he accidentally fell in with one of her servants, Lord Culpepper.

"You must prepare for another journey, Sir John," said the latter; "the Queen designs to send you into England."

Berkeley, as is not surprising, was rather taken aback. England was the last place to which he desired to go; he knew none of the Independent leaders, and, as he justly remarked, it was a pity to send over too many of the King's servants to share in the places and preferments which those worthies hoped to keep for themselves; but Culpepper waived these objections aside. "If you are afraid, Sir John," he said contemptuously, "the Queen can easily find some one else to do her business."