CHAPTER XI.

CHARLES I.

Charles Proclaimed King — Base Accusations against Charles - Curious Omens - Private Vows Made by Charles - The Sortes Virgiliana-Treaty of Marriage between Charles and Henrietta Maria of France-Deed of Dispensation. Solemnisation of the Marriage-Arrival of the Queen - Influence of Henrietta over Her Husband-The Queen Subjected to Humiliating Penances — Ecclesiastical Retinue of the Queen Insulting Conduct of the Foreign Priests The French Retinue Ordered by Charles to Quit the Kingdom - Interview between the King and Marshal de Bassompierre Presumption of Madame St. George - Henrietta's Passionate Conduct on the Departure of Her FavouritesContumacy of the Foreigners - Their Expulsion from Somerset House, and Embarkation at Dover.

On the 27th of March, 1625, died King James, and within a quarter of an hour afterward Charles was solemnly proclaimed at the Court-gate of Theobalds, where his father had breathed his last. It was considered as rather ominous, that Sir Edward Zouch, the knight marshal, instead of styling the new king the "rightful and indubitable heir," proclaimed him as the rightful and dubitable one. He was corrected in his error by the secretary.

Such is the malignity of human nature, that Charles was actually accused of having been a participator in the murder of his father. Peyton, in his "Divine Catastrophe," and Lilly, in his "Life of Charles," speak openly of the charge; but Milton goes further, and has even lent the credit of his name to an infamous and contemptible slander, which he could not but have known to be false. Addressing Salmasius, he writes: "I will let you see how like Charles was to Nero; Nero, you say, put to death his own mother; but Charles murdered both his prince and his father by poison. For to omit other evidences, he that would not suffer a duke that was accused of it to come to his trial, must needs to have been guilty of it himself." Whatever the other evidences, alluded to by Milton, may have been, they have certainly not descended to posterity. Doubtless they owed their fanciful birth to the acrimonious republicanism of the great poet. The insinuations of Peyton and Lilly are beneath contempt, and appear solely to have originated in Charles having dissolved the Parliament which accused Buckingham of having poisoned his father. Charles undoubtedly believed his favourite to be innocent, and though the line of conduct which he pursued on this occasion may be considered blamable, or at least unwise, yet the whole tenor of his life must defend him from so foul a charge. It must not be omitted, that, on the 24th of February, 1648, the absurd and

wicked charge was revived by the republican party in the House of Commons. As the attack was idle, it fell harmless, and alone reflected discredit. on the maligners.

Notwithstanding that it was opposed to all former precedents, Charles affectionately insisted on presiding as chief mourner at the funeral of his father. Young as he was, it was the third time that he had performed the same melancholy office; having previously attended his mother, and his brother, Prince Henry, to their last homes. The superstitious argued from the circumstance that a career of sorrow was in store for the survivor.1

Many, indeed, were the incidents on which, even when in the very height of his prosperity, his contemporaries founded a similar similar belief; and when we remember the subsequent misfortunes which befell the unhappy Charles, we cannot but regard them as very curious coincidences. Among other instances may be mentioned the verse which Senhouse, Bishop of Carlisle (who had been his chaplain when Prince of Wales), selected as

'The fact that the plague was raging at the time of his accession was also considered to be a prognostic of future evil. The same disease, however, was committing its havoc when his father commenced his prosperous reign. It is said that these two plagues were both generated in one parish, Whitechapel; that they broke out in the same house, and on the same day of the month. Kennett, vol. iii. The fact of the blood of a wounded falcon falling on the neck of the famous bust of Charles, by Bernini, when on its way to Whitehall, is a singular and wellknown coincidence.

the text for his coronation sermon, Rev. ii. 10, "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life," etc. This passage was considered by the superstitious as far more suitable for his funeral sermon, than as adapted to the brilliant occasion on which it was delivered. No less ominous importance was attached to the fact of the wing of the gold dove having been completely broken off during the ceremony.

Charles himself, probably to denote the purity of his intentions, had selected a robe of white, instead of purple, as his coronation dress. Purple having been ever considered the badge of sovereignty, as white was the emblem of innocence, it was inferred that hereafter he would have to rely upon his own virtues and integrity, rather than upon the greatness of regal power. His neglecting to ride through the city, attended with that state which had graced his forefathers on the days of their coronation, was also deemed portentous and ill-advised. Even the melancholy expression of his countenance was held to be ominous of future ill. When his picture was conveyed to Rome, to afford the design of a bust, the artist turned to the gentleman who brought it. He hoped, he said, it was not the face of a near relation, for it was one of the most unfortunate he had ever seen, and, "according to all the rules of art, the person whose it was must die a violent death."

Charles himself was singularly superstitious,

even for the age in which he lived.

It was

a strange infirmity in an otherwise strong and religious mind. We are assured by Lilly, the astrologer, that he sent, on more than one occasion, to consult him during his misfortunes; indeed, the fact of his having done so is supported by other authority. Charles himself mentioned to the Bishop of London a remarkable shock which he experienced in later years, at his trial. As he was leaning on his staff, the gold head broke off and fell to the ground. He considered it, as it

certainly was, a remarkable omen.

Another weakness of Charles was to bind himself to a particular line of conduct by secret obligations. On one occasion, when on a visit at Latimers, a seat of the Earl of Devonshire, he drew aside Doctor Sheldon, afterward Archbishop of Canterbury, and placed in his hands a paper, which he desired him to copy, and afterward to return it to him. This document detailed certain measures which he proposed hereafter to adopt for the glory of God, and for the advancement of the Church, intimating that he had privately bound himself by the most awful vow to ensure their accomplishment. One particular obligation, which the paper contained, was to perform public penance for the injustice he had been guilty of to Lord Strafford, in consenting to his death. In delivering this paper to Sheldon, Charles conjured him in the most solemn manner to remind him of