by Jean Plaidy
I was so angry with them both that I dismissed them and called in Walter Montague to start all over again and give us a play we could act, which had dancing and singing in it. Wat Montague was the son of the Earl of Manchester and had lived a great deal abroad in France and Italy, and although some people said he had not the wit and panache of Ben Jonson he had a good idea of the sort of entertainment I wanted.
Consequently he produced a masque called The Shepherd’s Paradise, which all my attendants declared was a masterpiece.
Many were going to perform in it and of course there was a part—the main one—for me. I was glad to have a big part but I did flinch when I saw the amount of words I should have to learn. I almost wished that I had retained Ben Jonson who for all his quarrelsome ways was able to say a great deal in a little space.
However we laughed over it and heard each other’s words and there was a great deal of talk of the play we were going to perform both in and outside the Court.
We had an enormous audience because people were allowed to come in from the streets if they could get in. It was not always easy and the Lord Chamberlain had made several rules which kept out certain people. But it was natural, I said, that the people should want to see their Queen perform in a play so I asked the Lord Chamberlain not to be too harsh.
The play went on for eight hours; and there was singing and dancing, which I liked, and in spite of the fact that many people had to sit cross-legged on the floor and quite a number of us forgot our lines and had to be audibly prompted, it was a success and I liked to see the people laughing and having a good time. It would make them like us, I said to Charles afterward.
Then we heard of the odious Mr. Prynne.
He took this very time to publish a book which he called The Histriomastrix; it was over a thousand pages in length. It was a diatribe against immorality, for William Prynne was a Puritan of the worst kind, which I hated so much and grew to hate so much more than any other type of man. Playacting was unlawful, he wrote. It was an incentive to Immorality. Plays had been condemned by the Scriptures and he was condemning them now.
The book was brought to Court and we all pored over it.
Saint Paul had forbidden women to speak in churches. He “Dares any Christian woman to be so more than whorishly impudent as to act or speak publicly on the stage (perchance in man’s apparel and cut hair) in the presence of sundry men and women.”
He went on to rant about women actors who were nothing more than strumpets. As for dancing that was worse still. It should be a criminal offense, and those who performed should be thrust into prison and do penance for their wickedness.
We might have laughed at such fanaticism but he did quote the Bible and the writings of many illustrious Christians; and we all knew that the attack was directed against me because I had acted, I had sung, and more than anything I loved the dance.
When the King read it he was very angry—not because he considered it important but because it was an insult to me. He thought the author should be brought before him and made to apologize. I think that would have satisfied the King, but Dr. Laud, who had become Archbishop of Canterbury, saw something significant in this attack.
He believed it was directed not only against the Court but was a criticism of the vestments of the clergy and ceremonies of the Church.
“Prynne is a dangerous man,” said Archbishop Laud.
As a result Prynne was arrested and stood trial in the Star Chamber. He was sentenced to prison and fined; his degree was taken from him and he was to stand in the pillory and have his ears lopped off.
Charles thought it was a harsh sentence for writing a book but the Archbishop was stern in his condemnation. “Men such as this could ruin the Church and all it stands for,” he said. “There are too many Puritans in the land and inflammatory literature such as this could increase their number. Let them see what happens to anyone who dares criticize the Queen.”
That silenced Charles but I could not sleep for some nights—the least upset gave me insomnia—and I kept seeing that man in my mind’s eye standing in the pillory with his ears dripping blood.
Of course he was an unpleasant creature. He was a miserable old spoilsport and he wanted to make us all be like him. But his ears…
Charles knew that I was worried about him, and Charles was too, for he was a just man. On the other hand Prynne had attacked royalty, for there was no doubt that the Court was his target, and Charles said that he was going against the Lord’s anointed—although, of course, I had never been anointed owing to my firm adherence to my own Faith.
Charles said he would order that pen and paper be taken to Prynne in prison. “That will comfort him,” he said.
“And enable him to write more words directed against us?”
“Poor fellow! He has suffered” was all Charles said; and I agreed with him that he must let Prynne have pens and paper. He would have learned his lesson and not write any more against us I was sure.
Soon after Lucy had appeared to the company so dramatically without her mask a rather unusual contretemps sprang up between some of the notable men of the Court. I was particularly interested because it concerned a letter of mine and one of my favorite friends was involved.
This was Henry Jermyn who had always seemed to me a most amusing gentleman and we had found a great deal to talk about when we met for, although he was quite humble in station, he had most excellent manners. I felt at home with him, perhaps because he had spent a great deal of time in Paris, where he had been sent on an embassy. He was able to give me news of my family and to talk knowledgeably about the life I remembered so well from my girlhood.
Henry was very tall, inclined to be somewhat on the heavy side; he was as fair as I was dark, with a lazy look which I found diverting. Some years before he had been appointed to the post of Vice Chamberlain and before that he had represented Liverpool in Parliament.
He was an inveterate gambler and as different from Charles as one man could be from another. Everything Charles did must be right in his own eyes. I sensed at once that Henry would not have the same regard for duty but liked to do what was most comfortable to him and which did not demand too much effort. As I was equally lazy and pleasure-loving there was an immediate bond between us. He was the sort who slipped in and out of trouble with easy grace, usually relying on his charm to extricate him from anything which interfered too much with an easy life.
There had been a little trouble on the tennis courts of Whitehall when he accused one of the men of attacking him with tennis balls. Henry had become really violent for like many people who are not easily aroused, when he was he seemed to make up for his periods of quietness.
That was a small matter compared with two other scrapes which followed closely on each other and resulted in a term of imprisonment and then banishment.
The first incident rose through the new French ambassador, the Marquis de Fontenay-Mareuil, to whom I had taken an instant dislike as soon as he arrived to replace my dear Marquis de Châteauneuf, who had been in England for some three years. There was at Court at this time a very charming young man, the Chevalier de Jars, who had come into conflict with the devious Cardinal de Richelieu and been exiled. He had come to me and as I knew that Richelieu and my mother were now enemies, naturally I made the Chevalier welcome. He was young, handsome and charming; he danced beautifully and played tennis so well that Charles—who was an excellent player—enjoyed a game with him. I was glad to see my compatriot fitting in so well at Court.
There was one man whom I greatly disliked and that was Richard Weston, Earl of Portland, who was the Lord Treasurer. Now when I try to reason out why I disliked him so much, I suppose it was because Charles thought so highly of him and I could never forget Buckingham and what a hold he had had over the King, and I think I was always afraid that someone else would rise up and maneuver himself into a similar position. Moreover, Weston was always refusing to give me money and at times made me feel like a pauper. When I com
plained of this to Charles, he gave me his slow smile and said it was Weston’s duty to look after the exchequer and make sure there was always enough money for the country’s needs. I said that was all very well but need he be so parsimonious? In any case there was enough money for the country’s needs so why be so miserly about my little request.
Charles said that was female logic and kissed me.
However, I was not to be put off so easily and I talked to my friends like Lord Holland and the Chevalier de Jars about it.
The Marquis de Fontenay-Mareuil was aware that I confided in the Chevalier de Jars, and men such as he always imagine that conspiracies are being hatched. One day the Chevalier came to me in great distress. He told me that his chambers had been ransacked and his papers taken away.
I took him to Charles at once, who looked very grave and asked him who he thought was responsible for this action.
“I feel sure it is someone who wishes to do me harm,” said the Chevalier.
I said: “We must find this thief, Charles, and he must be punished.”
Charles said the best thing to do was summon the French ambassador. This he did and I begged to be present at the interview because I thought that it might be necessary to defend my dear friend, the Chevalier.
I was right. Not that there was much I could do; and the effect of this was a near quarrel between Charles and myself.
Fontenay-Mareuil was very haughty. He admitted at once that it was on his orders that de Jars’s chambers had been ransacked and his papers removed.
“This is stealing,” I cried out.
“Your Majesty,” replied the ambassador, turning to me and bowing, “I am in the service of his Gracious Majesty, King Louis, and it is on his orders that I investigate the actions of the Chevalier de Jars.”
Charles nodded, seeing the truth of this.
“I have therefore removed the Chevalier’s papers,” went on Fontenay-Mareuil, “and in view of the fact that he is now without them, it will be necessary for him to return to France.”
“For what reason?” I demanded.
“That, Your Majesty, will need to be discovered.”
He then asked Charles if anything more was required of him.
When he had gone I turned to my husband. “You are not going to let him tell lies about the Chevalier. He is a friend of mine.”
Charles spoke tenderly. “Oh, I know he dances very well and is a merry companion, but if he is working against his King he must answer for his actions.”
“But he is my friend.”
“He is first the subject of the King of France.”
“Does this mean he will be sent back to France?”
“He cannot stay here if he has no papers.”
“Why not?”
“Because they have been removed by the ambassador and I have no doubt that in a few days we shall hear from your brother that the Chevalier is to return to France.”
I begged and pleaded, but Charles said that much as he wanted to give me all I desired he could not interfere with matters of state, particularly between a King and a subject of another country.
“It is my country,” I cried.
But he reminded me that I was now English.
I felt my temper rising, but Charles looked so distressed, and I did not want to do anything to spoil our happy life together so I curbed my irritation and made up my mind that I would be wiser to be silent as long as I did everything I could to help my dear friend.
But there was little I could do, for within a week or so the Chevalier received orders from my brother to return to France. I was very worried about him for I was certain that the odious Fontenay-Mareuil would have told tales about him.
I was right for as soon as the Chevalier set foot in Paris he was arrested and sent to prison.
After that there was a series of arrests. Châteauneuf was sent to Angoulême and kept there; even the frivolous Duchesse de Chevreuse, who I believe had numbered Châteauneuf among her admirers, was sent into retirement. Not that she endured it long for in due course we heard that she had captivated her guards and with their help, dressed as a man, she escaped into Spain.
But that was later. Meanwhile I had to think of my dear Chevalier de Jars.
This was where the trouble started for I wrote to my brother, begging him to release the Chevalier and assuring him that the young man had never been anything but a good friend to France. Unfortunately Weston’s son, Jerome, was acting as a courier and had been sent to Paris with important papers to be delivered to Louis and on his way back to England with further communications he happened to spend the night at an inn where the courier taking letters to Paris was staying. They fell into conversation and Jerome, who took his duties very seriously and, as the son of his father, was well aware of plots against him, thought he was within his rights to examine the letters which were being taken to France.
Thus it was that he came across the one which I had written to my brother and another written by Lord Holland. These were private letters and the custom was to send them separately; and the fact that they were in the diplomatic bag raised the officious Jerome Weston’s suspicions. He took the letters and brought them back to England to present to the King.
It was not difficult to imagine my fury when I heard what had happened. Charles did his best to restrain me, but this time he did find it impossible.
“It is an insult,” I cried. “How dare this…upstart treat me like this? Am I the Queen or am I not?”
Charles tried to calm me. “He was doing what he thought was his duty.”
“His duty…to insult me!”
“It was not intended to be an insult. Private letters should not be put into the diplomatic bag. Don’t you see that if someone wanted to make mischief how easily it could be done? There has to be a close watch on this. All young Weston was doing was his duty.”
“Lord Holland is furious,” I cried. “He will do that young man an injury.”
“He will be foolish if he does for that would be an offense whereas Jerome Weston has committed none.”
I was exasperated and left him. I dared not trust myself to stay longer for I should have started to abuse Charles himself very soon.
I went to my own apartments. Lucy was there with Eleanor Villiers, a niece of Buckingham, who had joined the ladies of my bedchamber some little time before.
I told them what had happened and they both expressed their astonishment that young Jerome Weston could have behaved so; that comforted me a little.
It was Eleanor Villiers who brought the news to me. She seemed very upset.
“Henry Jermyn has been arrested,” she said.
“Henry Jermyn! But why?”
“Holland challenged young Jerome Weston to a duel because he said he had insulted you and himself. Henry delivered the challenge and that is an offense.”
“What of Holland?”
“He is also arrested.”
I said: “I will see the King at once.”
I found Charles with some of his ministers and they were already discussing the matter which had sprung up between Holland and the Westons involving Henry Jermyn.
“I must see you at once,” I said, glancing haughtily at the ministers, and adding: “Alone.”
I could see that they thought Charles a most uxorious husband for he immediately told them he would see them later.
They left and I burst out: “I have just heard that Henry Jermyn has been arrested and Lord Holland with him.”
“That is so,” said the King.
“But why?”
“For disobeying the law. They know dueling is forbidden and any connected with it are guilty of breaking that law.”
I said “Holland has challenged young Weston. But why Henry Jermyn….”
“I will not allow the laws to be broken.”
“He is my friend.”
“My dearest, even your friends are not friends of the crown if they break the laws.”
“This
is a plot.”
“I think,” said Charles, “that there is a plot and it is directed against my Treasurer. The young man did right to intercept the letters. He suspects that some people are working against his father and I am of the opinion that he may be right. He was acting within his duties in searching the diplomatic bags. You must understand that, my loved one. We cannot have plots within our midst and we must be ever watchful of those who foment them.”
“Do you mean that Holland and Jermyn will be punished?”
“They must answer to the law. There have been murmurings against the Treasurer, who is a good and honest man. He is careful with our money and that is what we need.”
“So you are determined to be on his side!”
“My dear, I am on the side of right.”
I could see that no amount of pleading could change him. He was the most obstinate man alive and while he thought he was doing what was right he would continue to do it.
He explained to me that it was offensive that a member of his council—as Holland was—should send a challenge to a man in the King’s service who was merely carrying out his duties.
