Henrietta Maria Part 16

FROM AN ENGRAVING]

This attempted journey was one of the stormiest incidents of Henrietta's stormy career. Hardly had she set sail, accompanied by eleven vessels, when (by the agency of the devil, as some thought)[274] "the wind turned contrary, and the greatest storme that hath been seene this many a yeere"[275] arose. Nine days the Queen tossed upon the waves of the North Sea, lashed, as were all her ladies, into a narrow berth. The misery of the small, stuffy cabin was indescribable, and worse than bodily discomfort was the continual fear of death, which was so menacing that the Queen and the other Catholics on board, throwing aside their natural reticence on such matters, confessed their sins in a loud voice, which, perhaps, in the din of the storm, was necessary to the priest's hearing. It is said that the horror of the scene was so great that some of the sailors threw themselves into the sea. Henrietta believed that her last hour was come, and, as she confessed later, "a storm of nine days is a very frightful thing."[276] But the first alarm over, she reflected that after all there was little at present to make her cling to life, and she rallied her courage so effectually as to be able to derive amus.e.m.e.nt from the ridiculous incidents which never fail to occur on a storm-tossed vessel, while she rea.s.sured her terrified ladies by telling them that queens were never drowned.

At last, after getting tantalizingly near to Newcastle-on-Tyne, the boat was tossed back on to the sh.o.r.es of Holland, where Montagu was waiting in great anxiety. The weary voyagers landed from a small fishing-smack in a state of filth and exhaustion, for which their delicate lives had little prepared them, and which shocked the Prince of Orange, who, together with his son and daughter-in-law, came down to the seash.o.r.e to meet the Queen.

Henrietta and her ladies were so feeble that they could hardly stand, while one of the Capuchin Fathers required the support of two men to help him to say Ma.s.s. The Queen lost in this tempest a precious ship laden with the stuff of war, but "she gained in the opinion of all the witnesses what she can never lose,"[277] for indeed her courage, which seemed above that of her s.e.x, won an admiration which was still further increased when it was found that she meant, against the advice of her friends, to put to sea again as soon as the weather permitted and her several ships which had been dispersed in the storm came up. "They that are delivered from shipwrack, bid an eternall adieu to the sea, and to the shipps; nay, they are not able to endure the sight thereof. These are Tertullian's words. Yet within eleauen days after, O admirable resolution! the Queen, being scarce yet escaped from a dreadfull storme, spurred on by the desire of seeing the King and of coming in to his ayde, adventures againe to trust herself to the furie of the ocean and to the winters rigour."[278] So, recalling this incident, cried her eloquent panegyrist at her funeral service a quarter of a century later. Perhaps Henrietta felt that she feared the dangers of the deep less than the tongues and the acts of the enemies she was leaving behind. The Hollanders dared to detain a ship which she had caused to be loaded with ammunition, so that she was obliged to address to them an angry protest, while the preachers in their pulpits began to rail against the Prince of Orange and his son's English match, affirming that he wished to make himself King, and saying that if they must have a tyrant they would prefer their old master the Spaniard.

Thus Henrietta, bidding a long farewell to Montagu, who set out almost immediately for France, embarked once more. This time the sea was kinder to her, but the land proved her enemy. She intended landing at Newcastle-on-Tyne, but a change in the wind, which until the English coast was near had been very light, drove the vessel into Burlington Bay in Yorkshire. The Queen at once sent to inform the Earl of Newcastle, who was commanding the royalist forces in the neighbourhood. She had not long to wait before she received his answer in the shape of a body of cavalry, whose arrival enabled her to land. But, weary as she was, there was no rest for her. She brought with her a thousand old soldiers from the Low Countries, for she had heard rumours of a plot to seize her on landing.

They, as well as the escort sent by her husband, were needed, for at four o'clock on the dark February morning she was roused by the sound of firing.

Four of the Parliament ships had arrived in the bay, and they were sh.e.l.ling the village, with special attention, it appeared, to the Queen's lodgings.[279] In a few moments Jermyn appeared and told her to flee for her life. She jumped up, and having hastily flung on some clothing was hurrying to a place of refuge when suddenly she stopped, remembering that lying asleep on her bed was her pet dog, Mitte--an ugly beast, says Madame de Motteville, who was evidently no lover of the canine race, in recounting the story. Henrietta could not bear to leave her pet to death, or possibly to ill-treatment;[280] so, notwithstanding the entreaties of her friends and the rain of bullets that was falling, she insisted on retracing her steps to the house she had just left. It was the work of a few minutes to rush to her room and pick up Mitte. Then with all speed she sought an uncomfortable safety in a ditch outside the village, where for two hours the b.a.l.l.s played over the heads of the Queen and her suite, until at last the Admiral of Holland sent to tell the rebels that unless they desisted he would fire on them in return. "That was done a little late,"[281] was Henrietta's caustic and characteristic comment.

No less characteristic was her high-spirited return to the village the next morning, "not choosing that they should have the vanity to say they made me quit."[282] In spite of all her spirits rose at finding herself again in England, and she had the satisfaction of knowing that she brought with her substantial help in the way of arms, ammunition, and money, which her gallant soldiers had guarded through that night of battle. Her great wish was to rejoin her husband as soon as possible, and setting herself at the head of her army she started to march towards Oxford, where Charles was keeping his Court.

But five months were to elapse before the royal pair were united, and this five months forms one of the most curious episodes of Henrietta's career.

She became for the time being a military captain, "her she majesty generalissima," as she calls herself. She played her part right well, as if she remembered that in her veins flowed not only the blood of her father, but of her heroic Medici ancestor, Giovanni delle Bande Nere.[283] This delicately nurtured woman, who was, moreover, in bad health, lived among her soldiers, says the admiring Madame de Motteville, almost as imagination may picture Alexander living among his. Forgetting feebleness and fatigue, she was constantly in the saddle; setting aside all etiquette, she dined in the open air with her followers, each of whom she treated as a brother. It was no wonder that the Popish army of the Queen, as it was angrily called by its enemies, adored its royal mistress. Few probably thought of Alexander, but some--old soldiers from the Continent, perhaps--may have remembered the stories of Henry of Navarre among his companions-in-arms.

The military details of the campaign cannot be entered into here. The Queen was much in the hands of military specialists, a position she did not love, and which elicited some complaints that she could not rule the army which bore her name. There were jealousies and differences of opinion, such as on the question of attacking Leeds, in which matter both she and the Earl of Newcastle, her general, followed a course which drew upon them a mild censure from the King. Perhaps the most notable success was the gain of Scarborough, which was delivered up by its Parliamentary governor, Sir Hugh Cholmondley, who came to kiss the Queen's hand at York. In that ancient city she made a considerable stay, which was further enlivened by the reception of some of the northern loyalist n.o.bility, among whom was the Marquis of Montrose.

In July Henrietta at last reached her husband. They met in Kineton Vale, below Edgehill, and at the same time she was able to embrace her two eldest sons, who were with their father. A few days later she entered Oxford, and for a moment the welcome of the faithful city diverted her from her woes.

Crowds of spectators lined the streets or peeped out from the house-windows, and as the procession went by they cheered and blessed the Queen as the pledge and harbinger of peace.[284] At Carfax "the Major[285]

and his brethren entertained Her Majesty with an English speech, delivered by Master Carter, the Town Clerk, in the name of the city, and presented her with a purse of gold."[286] She went on to Christ Church, where she was received by the Vice-Chancellor and the Heads of Houses, and thence to the Warden's lodgings[287] at Merton, which had been prepared for her reception, and where on her arrival she was offered by the University authorities books of verses and pairs of gloves. This college, which was probably chosen on account of its proximity to Christ Church, where the King kept his Court, possessed a secret pa.s.sage which led into the gardens of the neighbouring foundation of Corpus Christi, so that Charles could visit his wife without going into the public street.

There was, indeed, much for the royal pair to discuss, for since their parting neither had been idle for a moment, and each had to recount to the other the results of their labours, while the changing circ.u.mstances of the Continent called for careful consideration.

In December, 1642, before Henrietta left Holland, Cardinal Richelieu died in Paris. The pa.s.sing away of this great man, who, knowing how to bend men and circ.u.mstances to his will, had built up France as two hundred years later Bismarck was to build up Germany, was a severe blow to the Parliamentary party, which knew him to be their friend;[288] but to the Queen it appeared the removal of the chief obstacle in the way of obtaining that help from her native country of which she was already beginning to think. It was believed that now her enemy was gone she would hasten to Paris herself, but she judged otherwise, and contented herself with carrying on negotiations by means of Walter Montagu, on whose friendship with Mazarin she counted. That gentleman supplied the French Government with a curious paper on English affairs,[289] which he probably drew up at The Hague under the Queen's direction. It set forth the miserable plight of Catholicism in that country, and urged the King of France to give help, which, in the event of his brother of England's success, would be well repaid, while his failure could bring no prejudice to an ally. These cogent reasonings were not disregarded, but they did not make as much impression on the minds of those to whom they were addressed as Henrietta and Montagu perhaps expected.

All France hoped that the death of the Cardinal would mean a reversal of his policy, for the n.o.bles were discontented, while the people were overtaxed and miserable. Already the faint grumblings of discontent could be heard, which became articulate a few years later in the rebellions of the Fronde. Such hopes were strengthened by the fact that Louis XIII was evidently following to the grave the minister who had made him, almost against his will, a great and victorious monarch. But France was not to escape so easily the influence of the mighty personality which had dominated her for so long.

Louis XIII died in May, 1643, and Anne of Austria, after a lifetime of neglect, found herself at the head of affairs as regent for her little son Louis XIV. The past career of this lady, her affection for Spain, her not uncalled for hatred of Richelieu, pointed to a complete reversal of the Cardinal's policy. His enemies began to come back to Court, and Madame de Chevreuse herself left her retreat in Flanders, and was seen at the side of the Queen-Regent.

But Anne soon found out the difficulties of her position. She was an idle woman who had never been accustomed to use her mind, and she craved instinctively for a stronger arm and brain on which to lean. She found them in the low-born Italian adventurer Jules Mazarin, whom Richelieu had trained to be his successor. Mazarin had not his master's dislike to the English nation or its Queen. Moreover, he owed much to Walter Montagu, whose influence with Queen Anne was greater than ever, and who had been instrumental in introducing the Cardinal to her favour. It is probable that when Henrietta heard the turn which affairs had taken in France she rejoiced. She had some cause to do so, but yet in the years that were coming she was to learn that Mazarin, like Richelieu, only cared, in his heart, for the interests of France, and that his desire was so to hold the balance of power between her and her enemies that he might be able to pursue unmolested the task of humbling the House of Austria, which had been bequeathed to him by his great predecessor.

In the autumn of 1643 an event occurred which caused much annoyance to Henrietta, and resulted in the removal from the French Court of the man most able and willing to advance her interests there.

It is probable that the Queen-Regent was really anxious to succour the King and Queen of England. She was grateful to them for the kindness which they had shown to Madame de Chevreuse, and she remembered their common hatred of Richelieu. Mazarin did not fail in polite condolences, and he thought that it would be a good thing to send over an amba.s.sador to England, to see at least that Henrietta was properly treated, and that the interests of France were duly considered. To this post the Count of Harcourt was appointed, whose way was to be prepared by an agent of inferior rank, M. de Gressy.

Under cover of this emba.s.sy Walter Montagu thought that he would be able to reach Oxford un.o.bserved. He did not travel with the amba.s.sador, but joined himself to Gressy's company in England in a disguised dress and a large wig, which he hoped would be sufficient to conceal the ident.i.ty of a person better known in France than in England; but either he overdid his disguise, or else he went about with injudicious openness in search of amus.e.m.e.nt, for at Rochester he was recognized. The sharp eyes of a Parliamentary officer spied him out, took him in charge and carried him off to London, where he was put in the Tower and there kept, in spite of the remonstrances of the French amba.s.sador, the entreaties of the Queen-Regent of France, and the somewhat lukewarm representations of Mazarin, who perhaps saw in him a possible rival.[290] All that the two Houses of Parliament would do was to deliver up to Harcourt the letters of Queen Anne, which were found on the prisoner. They regarded him as a "grand Jesuiticall English Papist," and they urged "that he hath been a great incendiary of this unnatural war against the Parliament, was formerly banished by Act of Parliament, and no letter from a foreign Prince can defend him."[291]

Henrietta was deeply chagrined, the more so as this vexation came upon the top of others.

She was not unaware of the feelings with which her husband's enemies regarded her. The comments and slanders with which she had been pursued in Holland would have been sufficient to enlighten her, without the reception which met her at Burlington Bay. The proposal of her enemies, couched in specious language, to escort her to London, where she should be "lovingly entertained," roused her to fury, for she who did not fear the bullets or the waves shrank with a feeling of almost physical repulsion from falling into the hands of her foes. But a further insult was to come. In May, 1643, she was impeached of high treason as the greatest papist in the land, and that her cup of humiliation might be full she was not allowed the t.i.tle of Queen of England, on the pretext that, as she had never been crowned, she had no legal right to it. Truly the mistakes of her youth were returning upon her head. "You will give a share of all these news to all our friends, if any dare own themselves such after the House of Commons hath declared me traitor, and carried up their charge against me to the Lords,"[292] she wrote sadly to the Duke of Hamilton. It was indeed no advantage to be known as her friend, specially in London, where the Puritan hatred, of which she was the chief object, was beginning to attack the priceless memorials of the past. Stained-gla.s.s windows were smashed in the churches, and "Cheapside Crosse, which at her Majestie's first coming into England was beautified in a glorious and splendid manner ... as it dazzlled a many eyes to behold the G.o.ds, Popes, and saints thereon,"[293] and which was boasted of by the Catholics even in Rome as one of the chief relics of the ancient religion, was torn down, and it was decided that "the Lead about the Crosse" should "be cast into Bullets, and bestowed on the Papists in armes."[294] This was bad enough, but even more trying to the Queen's feelings were the piteous accounts which came of the sufferings of her poor Capuchins, who, after more than a year of terrified waiting, saw themselves and their property in the hands of a ruthless mob, which was none the better because it acted in the name of the House of Commons, and which was led by Henry Martin, a man of unusually violent character, who was afterwards one of the regicides. All the remonstrances of the French agent and the House of Lords, "whose members have learned by their travels that there are other countries besides England,"[295] were brushed aside.

Hideous orgies and blasphemous revels were witnessed, testifying to the anti-Catholic hatred of the populace. The beautiful chapel which had been built with such high hopes only a few years earlier was sacked, and the ornaments, pictures, and vestments destroyed, except such of the latter as Martin carried off for his mistress. The picture by the brush of Rubens which adorned the High Altar was wantonly spoiled; the seat of the Queen was broken up with peculiar violence. Outside in the garden some of the rough soldiers played at ball with the heads of a Christ and of a St.

Francis, while others indoors trod underfoot the escutcheons of Henry IV and his wife, which were kept for use on their anniversaries. Only one consolation had the unhappy Fathers. Such a scene would not have been complete without its miracle, and they had the satisfaction of tracing the hand of Providence in the blindness of their spoilers to a small box of consecrated hosts hidden away in a cupboard, whose contents were turned upside down by rough hands of the mob.

Henrietta's wrath may be imagined when she heard of this fresh insult offered, not only to her but to her parents and to her country under whose protection the Capuchins lived. It probably outweighed the grief she felt for the destruction of her beautiful chapel. As for her husband, he was so incensed that he is said to have specially excluded from pardon all those concerned in the riot. Again, just as the Queen entered Oxford, another trouble fell upon her, which was another proof of the remorseless hatred of the Puritans. Edmund Waller, who in happier days had made verses to her charms, raised a plot in London in the King's interest. It was discovered, and among its victims was a faithful servant of Henrietta, Master Tomkins, who, condemned by "a new counsell of war (consisting of Kimbolton, Mainwaring, Venn, the Devill, and a few others),"[296] was executed outside his own door in Holborn by the common hangman.

Nor even within the walls of Oxford was there freedom from jealousy and strife. Henrietta could not bring herself to look cordially upon Holland[297] when he came to ask pardon of the King for his rebellion, even though he used Jermyn as his intermediary, and there were others who, though faithful to the cause, stood between her and that complete ascendancy over her husband at which she aimed. Perhaps it was hardly to be expected that she should like Rupert of the Rhine, the son of the Queen of Bohemia, who had great influence over his uncle in military matters. Never at any time during the war did the affairs of the King promise better than during Henrietta's stay at Oxford. She and her advisers, among whom were prominent the Earl of Bristol and his son, that same George Digby who had been with her in Holland, with their usual leaning to the bold and enterprising course, wished Charles to march on London, and end the war by a grand _coup_. It was a sore disappointment to her when, on the advice of Rupert, he turned aside to the siege of Gloucester. She believed (and she kept the belief to the end of her days[298]) that had he pushed on to the capital at this favourable moment, he would have been able to overcome his enemies.

But, in spite of all these acc.u.mulated worries, Henrietta's stay in Oxford was probably the happiest time she had known since the opening of the Long Parliament. After her long absence she was restored to "the dearest thing in the world to her, after G.o.d, the presence of the King her husband and the Princes her children."[299] After the troubles and dangers of her sojourn in Holland and her campaign in the north she was in peace and safety, though the city was strongly fortified and cannon were to be seen both at "Newparkes and S. Giles his fields." Nor, in spite of these warlike preparations, was the mimic Court without its diversions, for each college and hall was turned into a dwelling for gay royalist ladies and gentlemen, so that as Henrietta took her airing in Trinity Grove, the Hyde Park of Oxford, she saw many of the faces she had been accustomed to see in the real Hyde Park in London.

Absurd reports were rife among the enemy of the condition of the city; how it swarmed with Irish rebels, how Ma.s.s was said in every street; while the more sober-minded descanted upon the condition of the colleges, which "look as they did in Queen Elizabeth's daies on the street side, but if you go in you will find Henry the 8 his reformation in the Chappell."[300] It is probable that the Queen paid little attention to the flights of the Puritan fancy, but she took some pains to conciliate her husband's Protestant friends; and when a sermon which was used to be preached in Merton College chapel on Sundays was discontinued as a compliment to her, she was much annoyed, and gave orders that it should be resumed.

But even Oxford could be no permanent resting-place for the Queen. Her foes were gathering round it, and unless she wished to run the risk of seeing the horrors of a siege, it was time to be gone. She had, moreover, to care for another life, for she was about again to become a mother. The King could not, of course, leave his headquarters, and the husband and wife prepared to part once more, and this time for ever.

Henrietta left Oxford on April 17th, 1644. The parting between her and her husband, which took place at Abingdon, was sufficiently sad, even though the knowledge that it was final was hidden from her. Then, escorted by Jermyn, whose loyalty had been rewarded by a barony, and whose presence at her side excited scurrilous comments which she scornfully ignored, she turned to the south-west. By the 21st of April she was in Bath. She pushed on by the great city of Bristol, which formed part of her dowry, and thence to Exeter, where she arrived in a condition so serious that it seemed likely her troubles would soon find their surest consolation. "Mayerne, for the love of me, go to my wife,"[301] wrote Charles, and Henrietta herself penned a short, piteous note to her old physician. "My disease will invite you more strongly, I hope, than many lines would do."[302] The faithful Swiss needed no further summons. He was at the Queen's side when, on June 16th, the child, whose short life and tragic death were to be in keeping with the circ.u.mstances of her birth, was born at Bedford House, in the city of Exeter. The little princess was an unusually pretty baby, and the father she was never to see wrote expressing great pleasure at the reports of her beauty, and requesting that she might be christened in the cathedral of her birthplace, an injunction which aroused the wrath of the Puritans all the more because Charles had just attempted to silence the unpleasant rumours current on the subject of his religion by issuing a declaration of his unalterable attachment to the Protestant faith.[303]

Henrietta, who was always brave in illness, had hoped that the physical miseries from which she suffered would disappear with her confinement.

Instead, she found herself rather worse than better. "The most miserable creature in the world, who can write no more"[304]--thus she describes herself in a letter to her husband written from her bed, and containing an account of her ailments. To crown all, she found that it was impossible for her to remain at Exeter. Ess.e.x was on her track, and to all the entreaties for a safe conduct to Bath, which she addressed to him by means of a French agent named Sabran who happened to be with her, he returned answers which in the circ.u.mstances were brutal. The Queen was no concern of his, he said.

Henrietta, fearing above all things in her weak state the noise of firing which a siege would involve, dragged herself from her bed a few days after the birth of her baby, whose helpless life she confided to one of her attendants, the Countess of Morton. Accompanied by Jermyn and by her devoted confessor, Father Philip, she fled still farther into the western peninsula, down to that strange land beyond Truro which was then hardly considered a part of England, and where still lingered the accents of the Cornish tongue. There in the castle of Pendennis, which guarded the village of Penycomequick,[305] she found a refuge. She was indeed in a sad plight.

Mayerne himself believed "that her days would not be many," and a compa.s.sionate Cornish gentleman wrote to his wife that "here is the woefullest spectacle my eyes yet ever looked on, the most worne and weake pitifull creature in ye world, the poore Queen shifting for an hour's liffe longer."[306]

From Pendennis Henrietta found means to put to sea; but not even when she left English soil did the hatred of her enemies leave her. Ships of the Parliament were on the watch, and the boat which she was aboard was not only chased, but pursued by rounds of shot, as the Roundheads wished her to have "no other courtesy from England, but cannon b.a.l.l.s to convey her into France."[307] Then at last the Queen's brave spirit, which had not faltered in sorrow, danger, or pain, gave way. She did not fear death, but she shuddered at the idea of falling into the hands of her foes, and it seemed as if capture were to be her fate. In her agony she called upon the captain to fire the powder on board, and to let her die with her friends, rather than that those impious hands should touch her. When the danger was pa.s.sed she reproached herself for having thought of suicide, and happily so desperate a remedy was not needed. She escaped her enemies once more, and after a long tossing on the Channel the travellers saw with joy the rocky coast of Brittany. At the little village of Conquest, near Brest, the landing was effected, and the daughter of France, returning to her native land, retired to a whitewashed cottage to rest from her fatigues. But the news soon spread that the daughter of Henry IV had arrived, and the n.o.bility of the country-side, who, like all good Frenchmen, honoured the memory of the great King, flocked to do her service, and to make up by their generosity the deficiencies of her poverty. Her first care was to dispatch Jermyn to announce her arrival to the Court of France and to Mazarin, and to beg the medical a.s.sistance which her condition so urgently required. Meanwhile she was content. The country in which she found herself was indeed wild and rough as the Cornwall she had left, but at least she was safe and among friends. In later days she retained no unpleasant memory of the rocky coast, the desolate moorland, and the brave, simple-hearted folk of La Ba.s.se Bretagne.

[Footnote 262: Walter Montagu. Aff. Etran. Ang., t. 47.]

[Footnote 263: The following is a specimen of it: "You are the abstracted Quintessence of artificiall Nature: your glorious countenance is crowned with Majestie, your brow interwoven with occasionall Lenity and discreet austerity, your eye (like mounted Phoebus in his meridian pride) shoots such reflective beams of radiant brightnesse that it captivates the dazled beholder; your Cupidinean cheeks are clothed with intermixed Lillies and Roses; your purpureous lips (like a Nectarean current) do redound with expressed Oratory; your Murcurian tongue is gilded with such admirable Rhetorick that the Muses themselves seem to inhabit there and make it their Helicon: your Aromatick smelling-breath is so oderiferous that it exceeds the Arabian Odours, and seems rather celestial than breathed from a mortal creature, your melodious voice is so harmonious that Apollo may lay down his Harpe, and the Sphears themselves become astonished."--_The Prince of Orange, his Royall Entertainment to the Queen of England_ (1641).]

[Footnote 264: Mme de Motteville: _Memoires_ (1783), I, 270.]

[Footnote 265: Sister of Seguier the Chancellor: she was a great friend of Mazarin.]

[Footnote 266: Printed in Green: _Letters of Queen Henrietta Maria._]

[Footnote 267: Green: _Letters of Queen Henrietta Maria_, p. 60.]

[Footnote 268: _Ibid._, p. 70.]

[Footnote 269: "I send you this man express, hoping that you will not have pa.s.sed the militia bill. If you have, I must think about retiring for the present, into a convent, for you are no longer capable of protecting any one, not even yourself."--_Ibid._, p. 69.]

[Footnote 270: _Ibid._, p. 117.]

[Footnote 271: "May Heaven load you with as many benedictions as you have had afflictions, and may those who are the cause of your misfortunes, and those of your Kingdom, perish under the load of their d.a.m.nable intentions."--Henrietta Maria to Charles. _Ibid._, p. 71.]

[Footnote 272: Green: _Letters of Queen Henrietta Maria_, p. 72.]

[Footnote 273: "The Puritan imagination saw the Queen gathering in contributions from the religious houses of the Low Countries, many of which were English. The pamphlet which describes these contributions is marked by just the slight inaccuracies of a forgery, and if any money came from this source it was probably a very small sum."--_Queen's Proceedings in Holland_ (1642). See Appendix III.]

[Footnote 274: "... others thought that some witches were made use of to raise these winds. But all saw that if any such villainy came from h.e.l.l it was curb'd by Heaven in the merciful preservation of the Quene, and that when G.o.d will help the Devill cannot hurt us."--_A true relation of the Queens Maiesties returne out of Holland, etc. Written by me in the same storme and ship with her Majesty._ Printed at York and reprinted at Oxford (1643).]

[Footnote 275: Letter of Lady Denbigh. Hist. MSS. Cam. Ap. to 4th Rep.]

[Footnote 276: Green: _Letters of Queen Henrietta Maria_, p. 161.]

[Footnote 277: Montagu to Mazarin (apparently), February 9th, 1642. Aff.

Etran. Ang., t. 49. See Appendix IV.]

[Footnote 278: _The Funerall Sermon of the Queen of Great Britain_ (Bossuet), translated by Thomas Carre. Paris, 1670.]

[Footnote 279: It is said that Charles did not believe this.]