There was an uneasy situation in the country as I suppose there always is with a king who is young and inexperienced and who has favorites jostling for the highest posts. The bitter Catholic–Protestant antagonism had been kept in check by my father but it was always simmering near the surface and ready to break out at any moment.
It was disturbing to have a queen mother in captivity and a young King dominated by a minister who had been born Italian and was beginning to give himself far too many airs—as such people always did. The people were getting as irritated with the Duc de Luynes as they had with the Maréchal d’Ancre.
Soon after Christine’s wedding there were rumors and whispering throughout the Court, so I knew something was happening, and heard what it was eventually from Mamie.
“The Queen Mother has escaped from Blois!” she said in a hushed whisper. It was like Mamie to get the utmost drama out of a situation. She described it to me graphically. “The Queen Mother could no longer endure captivity and with the help of her friends, she made a plan of escape. How could this be brought about? There were guards all over the place. Well, she had made up her mind that she was going to try and you know that when your mother decided on something it was as good as done. A ladder was placed up against her window and she alighted to a terrace. But you know Blois. She was still very high up. So they got another ladder to take her to the next terrace. She was so exhausted by the first descent that she would not undertake the second so they let her down by means of a rope. At last she reached the ground, but she still had to get out of the castle, so she wrapped herself in a cloak and marched right past the sentries between two equerries. The equerries winked at the sentries and whispered something….”
“What did they whisper?”
“That the woman had come in to provide a little light entertainment for some of the men. So as they winked and nodded and made a few crude remarks, the Queen Mother passed on. The Duc D’Épernon had a carriage waiting for her and they sped away to Angoulême.”
“But what does this mean?”
“That your mother is no longer a prisoner. Something will have to be done now or there will be war.”
“War between my mother and my brother! That’s impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible in France…or anywhere else for that matter, little Princesse. Always remember that.”
How her words had a habit of coming back to me during my troubles. It was no use saying: That could never happen. She had been right. Anything could happen in France…or in England.
We did not know very much of what was taking place in the Angoumois. It was a very uneasy time. The last thing my brother wanted was to be at war against his mother and I am sure she did not want to be at war with him. Fortunately Richelieu was able to convince them both that what the people wanted was a reconciliation. There were a few skirmishes and a great deal of negotiation and in time a meeting between my mother and brother took place in Paris. It was an occasion. The people did not want a civil war. My brother embraced my mother publicly to the people’s cheers and it was another excuse for balls and banquets.
My mother declared that she was delighted to see me and kissed me more fervently than ever I remember her doing before. Then she looked at me speculatively.
“You are growing out of girlhood, Henriette,” she said.
I knew what that meant, and the prospect excited me while it filled me with apprehension.
Elizabeth gone. Christine gone. It must be my turn next.
I was nearly fifteen when I first became aware of the existence of the Prince of Wales. It came about in an unusual way.
Queen Anne was devising a ballet as she so often did and as she and I danced well together she was arranging for a part to be written in for me. I was always excited at the prospect of a new dance and called in the seamstress to make a dress for me which would be suitable for the occasion.
Anne and I practiced together and each complimented the other on the lightness of her step and the grace with which she twirled. Earnestly we discussed how we could make the dance more beautiful as—so Mamie said—two generals might plan a campaign which was going to result in the conquest of the world.
I laughed at her. One of the few things about me which she did not fully understand was my passionate commitment to dancing.
We rehearsed together and each time we were more enchanted by our performance. As we neared perfection we would sometimes have an audience from people who could persuade or bribe the guards to let them into that part of the palace where we were dancing.
I enjoyed an audience, as did Anne, so we looked forward to these rehearsals almost as much as we did to the grand performance in the presence of the King.
I did not know at that time that there was anything unusual about that performance, but it seemed that all the Court was laughing about it and in due course Mamie told me what had happened.
“The audacity!” she cried. “Guess who was in the audience at your rehearsal?”
“Many people it seemed.”
“There were two gentlemen there calling themselves Tom Smith and John Brown. They asked the Queen’s Chamberlain so pleadingly to be given seats for the ballet and, because they were English, he let them in. He said he thought it only courteous to show hospitality to foreigners, and he was so proud of the way in which his Queen danced that he wanted foreigners to see it for themselves. So they came. They applauded the ballet, but somehow it became known who they were. Now, Henriette, guess who our discreet visitors were.”
“How should I know? What did you say their names were? Tom…Smith and John what…?”
“Their assumed names. The gentlemen masquerading under those very undistinguished names were none other than the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Buckingham.”
“Why did they not come as what they are and be treated with the respect due to them?”
“Because, my Princesse, that is exactly what they did not want to do.”
“But why not?” I cried. “Why did they come?”
“To see the Queen.”
“But they did not make themselves known to her. She would have received them warmly.”
“They did not want to make themselves known and now that the secret has leaked, it is really very romantic. The Prince of Wales is to marry the Infanta of Spain. She is the Queen’s sister. He is on his way to woo her because he believes that husbands and wives should know each other before marriage. He thinks they should not be thrust at each other without having a chance to see whether they can like each other or not.”
“I think that is right. Elizabeth might have been much happier if she could have seen her husband first.”
“Well, the Prince of Wales was on his way to Spain and, of course, he must pass through France and the romantic young gentleman could not resist the temptation of getting a glimpse of the Queen, but he did not want her to know for what purpose. He thinks that her sister must be a little like her, and if the Queen is beautiful, her sister might have a good chance of being so too.”
“Was he…satisfied?”
“He must have been because he has gone on to Spain.”
“It sounds very romantic. I wish I had been able to catch a glimpse of him.”
“He caught a glimpse of you no doubt.”
“He wouldn’t be looking at me, would he? All his attention would be for Anne.”
“You’re pretty enough for him to take a second look.”
The incident was talked of for some time. Everyone was amused by it and thought it was a very daring thing to do.