He would become less aloof in the hunting field. He loved horses and understood them far better than he did people. Perhaps that was why he liked to be with them and avoided human contact—except with those few whom he loved.

He was so constantly reading the book his father had written called Basilicon Doron that he must have known it off by heart for it was not very long. It was a kind of guide book for kings and had been intended for Charles’s elder brother, who had died leaving Charles to bear the burden. The theme of this book was that a king had received his crown from God. Charles never forgot that and he always believed firmly in the Divine Right of anointed Kings to govern their people.

I realize that I was in a great measure responsible for the people’s dissatisfaction—but perhaps I should say my religion was. There were, it was true, many Roman Catholics in England, but the country as a whole was solidly behind the Reformed Church. And here was I, the Queen—a Catholic.

Charles did everything he could to make things easy for me. He never tried to make me give up my Faith and I had my chapel, which was as Catholic as anything I had in France. But the people did not like it. He had introduced certain ceremonials into the Church of which the people did not approve and Charles, believing that he had Divine guidance in this, had directed the clergy to keep silent on the matter. There was trouble with the people they called Arminians, who were followers of a Dutchman, Jacobus Arminius. He had published a book which opposed some of the teachings of Calvin, and the Commons had wanted the Arminian theory to be suppressed and were annoyed with the King’s attitude. This was disastrous for him because he needed their support over the tonnage and poundage matters which could provide funds for the Treasury.

I paid very little attention—I wish now that I had paid more. I might have seen the storm clouds gathering and done something to protect ourselves from them.

Charles had dismissed that Parliament and not called another. For eleven years he had ruled without a parliament. How blind we were not to realize what forces we were building up against ourselves.

Meanwhile the King went to Scotland. There he angered the Scots by being crowned by five bishops all ceremoniously dressed in white rochets and sleeves and copes of gold and shoes of blue silk of which the Scots did not approve; moreover the communion table was arranged after the manner of an altar with a tapestry set up behind it on which the crucifix was put up.

This was bringing something which the Scots called near-idolatry into their Church and they did not like it. Moreover they strongly resented it and there was a very dangerous moment during the Parliament which Charles was forced to call in Edinburgh after his coronation, when the matter of imposing apparel on churchmen was raised.

The majority of members voted against it, but Charles, who was certain he could manage very well—in fact much better without Parliament, instructed the clerk of the court to announce that the matter had been carried in the affirmative.

Charles then said that the decision must be right since the clerk had made it, and since it was a capital offense to falsify the records were some members going to accuse the clerk? None was prepared to put the clerk into such a dangerous situation, for how could they know what would be proved against him; but the Scottish nobles were not the kind of men to allow this to pass. There were objectors and the chief of these was John Elphinstone, Lord Balmerino, who was consequently arrested and put into Edinburgh Castle. Charles had returned to England before he was tried. It was imperative that Elphinstone should be found guilty and, when he was, the people gathered in the streets of Edinburgh, threatening to kill the judge and jurors, swearing vengeance on all those who had connived against their hero Elphinstone. He had to be reprieved but was made a prisoner in his castle at Balmerino and finally he was freed.

I mention this because I think it was one of the pointers to the King’s eventual fate and was the beginning of Scotland’s disenchantment with him.

The King returned from Scotland in time for the birth of our next child. There was great joy on that October day for we had another boy. We called him James after Charles’s father and a pretty boy he was—so different from his brother. Poor Charles, his looks did not greatly improve, but he was certainly bright and clever enough to demand attention. Beside him James and Mary looked beautiful, but a little frail.

When the King pointed this out I replied: “All children look frail beside our dark gentleman. He is already twice as big as other children of his age. Don’t worry about the others because they lack his undoubted strength. They have the consolation of being beautiful.”

The arrival of a new baby was certain to arouse the controversy of religion. If Charles had not been a king who took his duties so seriously I was sure I could have made a Catholic of him by this time. But of course the English were a stubbornly Protestant people. I had always maintained that they were not deeply religious. They were Christians; they worshipped God, but they were a lazy people and they did not greatly care to bestir themselves until some issue was presented to them which they considered worth fighting for. How formidable they could be when this happened I did not learn until later. At this time I saw only their lazy indifference. Another thing which I had not seen was that there was a Puritan element beginning to arise in direct defiance of the beautiful church ceremonies and the gracious way of living which I flattered myself I had introduced with the help of Charles, who was such a great lover of art and all its beauties.

The trouble started with the baby. A boy was more important than a girl and, as he was a possible King, next in line to the dark gentleman, he must be baptized by the King’s Protestant chaplain. James was christened and created Duke of York and Albany. I was very proud of him because he was a good and beautiful baby, but I did feel that as he was mine I should not give way to the Protestants on every point, so I engaged a wet nurse knowing that she was a Catholic—in fact choosing her for that reason. It was soon being whispered about the Court that the nurse would inject the baby with idolatry and Charles’s advisers warned him that the nurse must either be converted to Protestantism or go.

Charles came to me in some distress. He told me about the complaints and said that if the woman would only make certain statements she would be allowed to remain.

I protested. “She is a good nurse. The baby has taken to her. I might not be able to find another as good.”

But Charles was adamant, as he could be on some occasions, and I could see that in a matter like this my wiles would avail me nothing.

He sent for the nurse and gently explained to her that she had done her work well and that the Queen was highly satisfied with her as a nurse but she must remember that the baby could in some circumstances become the King of England and the English thought he should not have a Catholic nurse. All she need do was take an oath to the effect that the power of the Pope to depose princes was impious, heretical and damnable.

“Take this oath,” said the King, “and all will be well.”

The nurse started to scream in horror: “Deny the Pope. Deny the Holy Father his rights. Never…never…never….”

The King said: “Then you will leave this palace at once.”

I was very distressed and although the King tried to comfort me I refused to listen to him. I said that every woman in the country could choose the nurse for her own child but the Queen, a daughter of Henri IV, was denied that right.

The King went on trying to comfort me, making allowances for my state, I know; but I was really distressed, not only because of the nurse, but because I had believed till then that I was making some headway and that Catholics were treated much more leniently in England than they had been before my arrival. I had strong hopes that I was beginning to make the King see the rightness of the Catholic Faith and I had thought how wonderful it would be if I could convert him, and, through him, the nation. I should go down in history as another St. Augustine or Bertha of early England. And now I could not even have a Catholic wet nurse for my baby!

I refused to eat and I lay sullenly in my bed and was so despairing that I became really ill. The King sent for doctors who could not put a name to my malady. “The Queen is depressed and so upset that she has lost her vitality and her interest in life,” said the doctors.

Charles was beside himself with anxiety. He really did love me, and I hated to worry him; but I was upset for I did see in this dismissal of the nurse the hopelessness of my dreams.

As I lay there, one day Charles came to the room and with him was the Catholic nurse.

“She is to come back,” he said simply. “I have given permission. I will silence the gossipers. I hope that pleases you.”

I just held out my arms and we clung together. I was so happy—not only to have the nurse back but because of this further sign of his love for me.

I was better within a day.

There was another little trouble a few days later. The King’s Protestant chaplain came to me and explained what great good I could do the King and the country by renouncing the Catholic Faith and embracing Protestantism.

What a proposition to make to an ardent Catholic! I denounced him and his Faith vehemently but he persisted; he went on his knees and prayed. This angered me. As if I did not know the meaning of prayer!