It was a happy day for Henrietta, but marred by one disappointment, and that a great one. It was the King of England's wish that, against the spirit of the stipulations of his marriage treaty,[69] his heir's christening should follow the rites of the Established Church. Nevertheless, two of the baby's sponsors, the King of France and the Queen-Mother, were Catholics. These and the second godfather, the Prince Palatine, were represented by three noble Scots, the Duke of Lennox--a member of a family that the Queen particularly disliked--the Duke of Hamilton, and the Duchess of Richmond; and the King, with characteristic unwisdom, desired to pay yet another compliment to his native land by appointing another Scotchwoman, Lady Roxburgh, to the office of governess to his infant son. But this lady, who was a Catholic and who, as lady of the bedchamber to the consort of James, was supposed to have exercised a baleful religious influence over her mistress, discreetly refused the offered dignity, which was passed on to the Countess of Dorset, whose husband was to fill the complimentary position of governor to the royal child. The baby inherited neither the stately beauty of his father nor the vivacious prettiness of his mother, though he was rather like his grandfather, Henry IV, whom Henrietta so greatly resembled. But his size and forwardness atoned for his lack of beauty. "He is so fat and so tall," wrote the happy mother to her old friend Madame S. Georges, "that he is taken for a year old, and he is only four months. His teeth are already beginning to come. I will send you his portrait as soon as he is a little fairer, for at present he is so dark that I am quite ashamed of him."[70] And again, somewhat later, her humorous delight in her baby comes out in another letter to the same correspondent. "I wish you could see the gentleman, for he has no ordinary mien. He is so serious in all he does, that I cannot help fancying him far wiser than myself."[71] Henrietta's happiness was crowned by the birth of her son, which was followed as the years went on by that of other sons and daughters.[72] But apart from these domestic joys, in which she delighted with all the strength of her healthy nature, her life was a very happy one. To the pleasures of love she added those of friendship, and she had the art, all too rare among the great, of treating her friends with openness and confidence without losing her royal dignity. No sooner were her French ladies gone than she turned to those of her new country to fill their place, and perhaps her principal choice was not altogether a happy one.