It is not to her but to her children that we must look for any consideration of her life as important. No doubt in the early days in Flanders Edward Hyde watched the unfolding of his daughter’s keen intelligence with hope and confidence as a factor in her future. It was afterwards that her “vaulting ambition” was destined to “o’erleap itself,” and so weigh her down under “the burthen of an honour into which she was not born.”
It does not need much reflection to point the moral here, it is obvious enough and sorrowful enough.
During the summer of the year 1670, the same year which saw the Duchess of York’s conversion to the Church of Rome, the King’s only remaining sister, the Duchesse d’Orléans, paid what proved to be her last and also her most momentous visit to her native country, a visit that might have been fraught with such disastrous consequences to England. It is not quite apparent whether Henrietta herself fully appreciated all that her mission entailed—the mission she accepted so light-heartedly at the hands of her magnificent brother-in-law, the French king. She had never displayed any great aptitude for diplomacy, nor indeed much interest in such questions, but had been content to float on the surface of life like an airy butterfly, a creature of sun and shower. This being so, it was a very easy task indeed for Louis to use her as his tool and complaisant go-between. Madame and her elder brother, we know, loved each other very deeply; he—Louis XIV.—probably loved nobody at all, at least this is the conclusion which seems forced upon us, therefore he stood in the far stronger position. Madame believed, as it was easy to make her believe, that in carrying out King Louis’ instructions she was doing great things for France; that for her sake Charles II. must agree to proposals of which possibly she did not fully grasp the magnitude, but which tended to place England under the heel of her neighbour. It must also be here borne in mind that Henrietta was to all intents and purposes a Frenchwoman. She had been brought up from infancy in France, and that country commanded all her sympathies and prejudices. Most likely she regarded England as an alien country, which had slain her father and driven her family into exile for years, and which would be all the better for drastic treatment, if it happened to be inflicted. Moreover, it was the excuse for a welcome excursion, a visit to her brothers, a short respite from the society of Monsieur, which was now always an infliction, a fact which can scarcely be wondered at. Therefore Madame started on her journey in high spirits, in consonance with the season of summer which was just now flinging its gifts over the earth and shedding beauty in its path, the beauty of serene skies, of waving grass, of radiant flowers.
This visit of Madame’s was, it is true, to be but a flying one. She was not even to come to London at all, and a plea was put forth for this marked abstention which carries us back to the year of the Restoration, and her mother’s bitter attitude towards the marriage of the Duke of York. It seemed very evident that even now, at the distance of ten years after that marriage, the haughty Stuart princess could not bring herself to meet her English sister-in-law on equal terms. It was clearly impossible, so we are told, that Madame should now come to London, “for she will not yeild ye place to ye Dutchesse of Yorke, nor can it be allowed that the Dutchesse of York should yeild it unto her.”[[260]] It was the question fought for years before, to be revived anew, it is hard to see why, on this occasion. However, on consideration a compromise was finally arranged by certain wise counsellors, the method adopted being that of transferring the place of meeting to Dover, where, fortunately, it seemed that matters of precedence might, in a measure, be conveniently waived, to the satisfaction of all parties therein concerned. It was furthermore settled for the nonce by the decision that the Duchess of York should yield the “pas” to Madame in “this Kingdome,” because it was remembered that the Duke of Orleans had always taken care to give it to his cousin the Duke of York when in France.
[260]. “Verney Memoirs.”
So, this point being finally decided, the King and his brother set out for Dover, there to meet their sister, and they were followed thither later by the Queen and the Duchess of York.
All the town proceeded there as well; that is, everybody who was anybody. The wits and the beaux, the beauties of the Court, “the King’s musicke” and the Duke’s players, “all the bravery that could be got on such a sudden,”[[261]] grave statesmen and people who had nothing grave about them, besides those who went frankly for amusement and no more. The Dover road, the most famous road in the kingdom, which had known through the far-back centuries the possessors of the most honoured names passing in long procession to and fro, which had seen the victors and vanquished of the hundred years’ war, was alive with travellers of all conditions. Coaches, horsemen, pack-horses, waggons with provisions, waggons with fine clothes, tramping beggars, itinerant musicians, broken soldiers ready for any fray or wrangling for a groat. It was a seventeenth-century Canterbury pilgrimage which yet lacked a Chaucer for its worthy chronicler.
[261]. “Verney Memoirs.”
Although Monsieur could not be said to display at this time any overweening attachment to his wife, he apparently entirely disapproved of this visit to England, the real object of which was concealed from him, as he could not be trusted with any matter of importance, and it was afterwards remembered that he said to some of his intimate friends that he did not think the Duchess would live very long. Moreover an astrologer is reported to have said that he (d’Orléans) would have several wives, which prophecy was probably highly agreeable to him. He accompanied Henrietta for part of her journey, however, joining her before Dunkirk, from which port she embarked on the 24th May.[[262]] It is pleasant to record that when Madame did meet the despised sister-in-law at Dover, she was kind to her, in spite of the difficulty as to precedence before noticed.[[263]]
[262]. Madame—Julia Cartwright (Mrs Ady).