Henrietta Maria Part 21

Henrietta's reply came promptly, but with a world of sadness in it, "I am nothing, do you be something!"[379]

Queen Henrietta Maria's position was considerably altered by her husband's death; on the one hand she became a person of greater importance as the adviser of her young son, who was hardly of an age to manage his own affairs; on the other, she was deprived of Charles' powerful support, and laid more open to the attacks of her opponents, whose fear it was to see her two sons, Charles and James, who arrived in Paris shortly after their father's death, fall under her influence.

Party feeling ran high at the exiled Court, which, with the suppression of the first rebellion of the Fronde, took shape again. Henrietta was respected by all--"our good Queen," she was affectionately called--but her religion and her politics were disliked by the Church of England const.i.tutional party, which was strongly represented in Paris. Sir Edward Hyde, Sir Edward Nicholas, and their friends, considered with some justice that her counsels had been fatal to the master whose death had placed him on a pinnacle, where a.s.suredly he had never been in his lifetime. They particularly disliked Jermyn, whose great influence with the Queen exposed him to jealousy, and Lord Culpepper[380] and Henry Percy, his intimate friends, were little less obnoxious to them. "I may tell you freely," wrote Ormonde, the late Viceroy of Ireland, who arrived in Paris at the end of 1651, "I believe all these lords go upon as ill principles as may be; for I doubt there is few of them that would not do anything almost, or advise the King to do anything, that may probably recover his or their estates."[381]

Shortly after the King's death the Queen's party (or that of the Louvre, as its enemies called it) was strengthened by the arrival of a recruit of great importance, Henrietta's old friend Walter Montagu, whom she had never seen since they parted in Holland in 1643. This gentleman, since his apprehension at Rochester, had been in the hands of the Roundheads; he had spent most of his time in the Tower of London, where he varied the monotony of prison life by a spirited controversy with a fellow-prisoner, Dr. John Bastwick, of pillory fame, who expressed himself greatly pleased with his nimble-witted adversary. He also became very devout, and in proof thereof wrote a volume of spiritual essays, which he published in 1647 with a charming dedication to the Queen of England, wherein piety and flattery were delicately blended. In spite of the dislike with which he was regarded,[382] he was treated with consideration, partly no doubt through the influence of his brother, the Earl of Manchester, with whom he was always on good terms and who even supplied him with money, but partly also, probably, because it was felt that the Queen of France, who pleaded over and over again for his enlargement, must not be irritated beyond measure.

He was permitted to go to Tunbridge Wells on account of his health, which suffered from his long confinement, and he was finally released on the ground that he had never borne arms against the Parliament, which was true enough, as he had been in prison almost since the beginning of the war.

Nevertheless, together with his friend Sir Kenelm Digby, who had reappeared in England, he was banished the country under pain of death.[383] He quickly repaired to Spa to drink the waters there, and thence pa.s.sed to Paris, where he was warmly welcomed by the Queens, both of England and France.

The appearance of Walter Montagu--a frail worldling, as he calls himself--in the role of a spiritual writer probably caused much the same sort of amus.e.m.e.nt in Parisian circles as was caused in later days in those of London by the publication of Richard Steel's _Christian Hero_. But it was soon found that the long years of prison and danger had wrought a real change in the whilom courtier, who now became a _devot_ of the fas.h.i.+onable Parisian type. He lost no time in putting into execution his former project of embracing the ecclesiastical state. "Your old friend, Wat Montagu,"

wrote Lord Hatton in February, 1650-1, "hath already taken upon him the _robe longue_ and received the first orders and intends before Easter (as I am credibly a.s.sured) to take the order of Priesthood."[384] He sang his first Ma.s.s at Pontoise in the following April, and in the autumn of the same year received by the favour of Queen Anne the Abbey of Nanteuil, which gave him the t.i.tle of Abbe and a sufficient income. A few years later the same royal patroness bestowed upon him the richer and more important Abbey of S. Martin at Pontoise,[385] whose ample revenues he expended with such liberality and tact as to win the grat.i.tude of his less fortunate compatriots, Catholics and Protestants alike.

One of the earliest questions which the Queen had to settle after her husband's execution was that of her eldest son's plans. At first a journey to Ireland was contemplated, but finally it was decided that the young King should go to Scotland and try his fortune among those who had betrayed his father. Henrietta herself was inclined to the Presbyterian alliance, in which opinion she was encouraged by the Louvre party. English and French Catholics alike believed that the silly Anglican compromise had met with the fate it deserved, and that henceforward the spoils would be divided between themselves and the Presbyterians. The remnant of Anglicans who showed a gallant faith in their position which later events justified distrusted these latter so deeply that they would almost have preferred the King to remain an exile for ever to seeing him restored by their means, who had sold the Blessed Martyr. As for the Presbyterian alliance with the Catholics, that they considered the most natural thing in the world;[386]

for in their opinion both schools of thought aimed at an undue subordination of the civil to the religious power, or as a Royalist rhymester put it:--

"A Scot and Jesuit, join'd in hand, First taught the world to say That subjects ought to have command And princes to obey."[387]

Nevertheless, in spite of opposition, Charles went off to Scotland, and there, to the deep disgust of his Anglican friends, who had to learn that he was a very different man from his father, he was persuaded to take the Covenant, a step which they believed would not only alienate his best friends, but prejudice his chances with Providence.[388] Even the Queen was annoyed, unless, as her opponents hinted, she feigned her chagrin. But annoyance soon gave place to anxiety. First came the news of the defeat of Dunbar, then of the "crowning mercy" of Worcester; at last, after weeks of suspense, Henrietta was able to welcome her son once more, safe indeed, but worn out by almost incredible adventures and escapes, and cured for life by his sojourn among them of any liking for the Presbyterians. It was no wonder that the lad was depressed and irritable and unwilling to talk to his mother or any one else, though she had still considerable influence over him, so that it was complained that the King's secret council were his mother, "Lord Jermyn, and Watt. Montagu, for that of greatest business he consults with them only, without the knowledge of Marquis of Ormonde or Sir Ed. Hyde."[389] She was able to persuade him (the more easily, no doubt, from his Scotch experiences) to refrain from attending the Huguenot wors.h.i.+p at Charenton, which she thought might compromise him with his relatives of France.

And, indeed, under the pressure of her many misfortunes, Henrietta was becoming more of a bigot than she had ever been before.[390] In 1647 Father Philip died.[391] The loss of this worthy old man, who was well aware of the caution necessary to a Catholic queen living among heretics, exposed her to the influence of other and less judicious counsellors, specially after the death of her Grand Almoner,[392] which deprived her of another moderating influence. When in 1650 the Anglican service, which had been held at the Louvre since the first days of the exile, was suppressed, Protestant gossip pointed out Walter Montagu as the author of this deed; but that gentleman would reply nothing, even to so weighty an interrogator as Sir Edward Hyde, except that the Queen of France was at liberty to give what orders she pleased in her own house. Henrietta may have regretted this sudden outburst of zeal on the part of her sister-in-law, but she found no answer to make when that lady came to visit her and told her, with the solemnity of a Spaniard and a _devote_, that she thought the recent troubles of her son the King of France must have been due to his mother's weak toleration of heretical wors.h.i.+p at the Louvre. History does not record whether she changed her mind when this act of reparation was not followed by an abatement of the rebellion; but henceforth the Anglican service was held nowhere but in the chapel of Sir Richard Browne, the father-in-law of John Evelyn, whose house was protected by his position as resident of the King of England. There John Cosin, the exiled Dean of Durham, who still kept up his impartial warfare against Rome on the one side and Geneva on the other, struck heavy blows in the cause of the Church of England, not, it was reported, without success. Religious feeling ran as high as ever it had years before in London,[393] and the good Dean's controversial acerbity was not sweetened when his only son went over to the enemy, by the instrumentality, it was said, of Walter Montagu. Nor did the alert Abbe's victories end there. Thomas Hobbes was still living among his learned friends in the French capital. His religion, or lack of it, made him suspect to Catholics and Protestants alike, and the Anglicans were considerably chagrined when they heard that this dangerous person, on the recommendation of Montagu, had been removed from the English Court, where the young King had shown an unfortunate liking for his company. They would fain have had the credit themselves of this judicious act, though perhaps in later days, when they saw the "father of atheists" a welcome guest at Whitehall, some of them may have been glad to be able to say that they had had nothing to do with the odious persecution which he had suffered from the bigots in Paris.

Three years after the suppression of the Anglican service at the Louvre, other events occurred which did not tend to Henrietta's popularity with some of her son's best friends. Henry, Duke of Gloucester, the youngest son of Charles I, is now chiefly remembered as an actor in that most pathetic of all farewell scenes, when he and his sister Elizabeth took leave of their dying father. The little girl never recovered the shock of her father's death, and died without seeing again the mother who longed for her. Henry was too young to suffer thus, and at one time a rumour was about which reached the ears of Sir Edward Nicholas that Cromwell intended to make the child king; but in 1653 the authorities in England, touched by compa.s.sion for his youth, or perhaps finding him more trouble than he was worth, sent him over to his sister in Holland, whence, much against that lady's will, he was fetched to Paris to his mother's side. Henrietta was charmed with the little fellow, whom she had not seen since he was quite a child. Though small and thin he was "beautiful as a little angel" and, while resembling his aunt Christine in face, possessed the fascinating manners of his father's family and was remarkably forward in book-learning.

The boy was made much of, not only by his mother, but by the whole French Court. "You know they always like anything new,"[394] wrote the Queen of England to her sister, and she goes on to relate with some amus.e.m.e.nt the innumerable visits she received on account of this _pet.i.t chevalier_. She was, no doubt, glad that he had made so good an impression upon his French relatives, for she had schemes for his advancement which depended largely on their favour.

The only one of her children whom Henrietta had been able to bring up in her own faith was the dearest of all, the youngest little daughter, whom she was wont to call her child of benediction. It is probable that during her husband's lifetime she felt a scruple in trying to turn his children from the religion which their father professed, particularly as he showed a generous confidence in her in the matter; but now that he was gone she felt her obligation to be over, and she gave much time and attention to influencing the minds of her two elder sons, of whom she had good hopes.

She even, unmindful of the lessons of the past, entered anew into negotiations with the Pope and, by means of the d.u.c.h.ess of Aiguillon, a niece of Richelieu, held out, in the name of her son, hopes of untold benefits to the Catholics of the British Isles if the Holy Father would only a.s.sist the young and importunate monarch, who would certainly repay his paternal kindness with interest.[395] But, nevertheless, the Queen knew well enough the grave difficulties in the way of Charles' profession of the Catholic faith, and she turned with relief to the little Henry in whose youth she saw an easy prey. She had other arguments than those of religion to bring forward. All sensible people, she told the boy, were now agreed that the King, his brother, would not regain his throne. He knew the extreme poverty to which the revolution had reduced his family; how as a Protestant did he propose to live in a manner suitable to his rank as a Prince of England? Whereas, if he would become a Catholic and take orders, his aunt, the Queen of France, would make everything easy by procuring for him a cardinal's hat, and by bestowing upon him such rich benefices as would afford him a fitting provision.

Henry was a boy, little more than a child, but the circ.u.mstances of his life had been such as early to teach him the necessity of self-interest.

His father's last counsels, given at a supreme moment, may have weighed with him, for his well-known answer, "I will be torn to pieces ere they make me a king while my brothers live," prove him to have been, at that time, an unusually precocious child. Be this as it may, he showed an unexpected reluctance to follow his mother's advice and an unaccountable dislike of the Abbe Montagu, whom she appointed to be his governor. Perhaps he remembered his father's distrust of that fascinating person; certainly he knew that by following his teaching he would offend irrevocably the brother on whom, in case of a restoration to their native land, his future must depend. Henrietta herself was not blind to this aspect of the case, and she tried to propitiate her eldest son, to whom she had given a promise that she would not tamper with his brother's religion. "Henry has too many acquaintances among the idle little boys of Paris," she wrote to Charles, who was away from the city, "so I am sending him to Pontoise with the Abbe Montagu, where he will have more quiet to mind his book."

To Pontoise accordingly Henry went, where Montagu attempted in vain to win his confidence. After a while the boy was allowed to return to Paris, but he showed himself so obstinately indocile that at night-time he and his page (a lad who had been in the service of the Earl of Manchester, and who doubtless enjoyed thwarting the renegade Abbe), "like Penelope's web ...

unspun" (as well as they two little young things, some few years above thirty between them) whatever had pa.s.sed in public.[396] The poor little Prince owned, indeed, that he was called upon to deal with matters above his years. His relatives at the French Court a.s.sured him that his first duty was to his mother now that his father was dead. His Anglican friends told him that a sovereign came before a mother, and that his obedience was due to his eldest brother. That brother, moreover, took this view strongly and wrote to him, saying in brief and pithy terms that, should he become a Catholic, he would never see him again. It is not surprising that between all these conflicting opinions Henry's young head was a little confused. He was further perplexed when to other arguments in his mother's favour was added the curious one that his conversion would make amends to her for the breach of her marriage contract, by which she should have had control of her children up to the age of twelve.

Henrietta was, indeed, steeling her heart to greater sternness than she had ever used to any of her children, to whom she had always shown herself an indulgent mother. It may be that, as men said, she was under the influence of Montagu, who, however, was not wont to be very severe, and who did his best to win over his pupil by kindness and by pointing out to him the worldly advantages which a change of faith would bring--a lesson which the luxuries of Pontoise, contrasting as they did with the poverty in which many of Henry's Anglican friends were obliged to live, ill.u.s.trated in a practical manner. It may be that the Queen thought that a boy of her son's age could not resist severity, and that she was determined to hold out until she conquered the child for what she believed to be his good in this world and the next; but she was to be defeated. While reports were being industriously circulated through the city that Henry was on the point of coming to a better mind, while in some churches thanksgivings were even being offered for his conversion, his continued obstinacy was in reality wearing out his mother's patience. She sent for her son, and after receiving him with her usual affection she said that she required him to hear the Abbe Montagu once again, and that then he must give her his final answer. Montagu pleaded for an hour, expending upon this lad of fourteen all those powers of persuasion and eloquence which enabled him to excel as a popular preacher. But Henry's mind was made up, he was determined to cast in his lot with his brother and England rather than with his mother and France. He communicated his decision to the Queen, and at the fatal words she turned away, saying that she wished to see his face no more. She left the room without any sign of relenting, and her son discovered a little later that her anger even cast his horses out of her stable. He was sobered by the depth of her displeasure, but he reserved his chief wrath for Montagu, to whom he attributed a harshness very far indeed from his mother's natural character. Turning on his late tutor, he upbraided him angrily: "Such as it is I may thank you for it, sir; and 'tis but reason what my mother sayes to me I say to you: I pray be sure I see you no more."[397] Then, turning on his heel, he showed his independence by marching on to the English chapel at Sir Richard Browne's house (for it was a Sunday morning), where he was received with such rejoicings as befitted so signal a triumph over the rival religion. He could not, of course, return to the Palais Royal, and he asked the hospitality of Lord Hatton, who, both as Royalist and Anglican, was delighted to welcome his "little great guest." His satisfaction was the greater because of the piquant circ.u.mstance that he was himself a relative by marriage of the discomfited Abbe. Henry, who was considered to have "most heroically runne through this great worke beyond his yeres,"[398] made further proof of his unflinching Protestantism by receiving a distinguished minister of Charenton, to whom he gravely discoursed of his father's religious views. But he did not remain long in Paris. Lord Ormonde arrived with letters and messages from the King of England and bore the lad off to Cologne, where his eldest brother was at that time keeping his Court.

The years of the exile wore on not too cheerfully. Little by little Henrietta lost the influence she had had over her eldest son, who came to distrust Jermyn, perhaps because he saw the favourite rich and prosperous, while others of his faithful servants were almost in need. Probably the Queen was annoyed at the ill success of Charles in her own country, for it is remarkable that the young man who possessed the French temperament, and who was, in many respects, like his grandfather Henry IV, was never popular in Paris, while James was greatly liked and admired. It is true that the latter was a singularly gallant youth, and that he spoke the French language much better than his brother, which accomplishment was in itself enough to win Parisian hearts. "There is nothing, in my opinion, that disfigures a person so much as not being able to speak," said that true Frenchwoman Mademoiselle de Montpensier. As for Princess Henrietta, she was looked upon quite as a French girl, and she was admired, not only for her beauty, but for her exquisite dancing, a talent which she inherited from her mother. It was on account of this beloved child that the widowed Queen of England, in the last years of the exile, came out again a little into the world and held receptions at the Palais Royal, which proved so fascinating as to be serious rivals to those of the grave Spanish Queen of France. At them she was always pleased to welcome Englishmen, for she loved the land of her happy married life in spite of the treatment she had received there. "The English were led away by fanatics," she was wont to say; "the real genius of the nation is very different." So jealous was she of the good name of her son's subjects in critical Paris that once when an English gentleman came to her Court in a smart dress, tied up with red and yellow ribbons, she begged the friend who had introduced him to advise him "to mend his fancy," lest he should be ridiculed by the French.

But ere this another blow had fallen upon Henrietta, and this time she was wounded, indeed, in the house of her friends. As early as 1652 France recognized the Government of the Commonwealth, but in 1657 the Queen learned that her nephew, acting under the advice of Cardinal Mazarin, who was impelled by his usual dread of Spain, had even made a treaty with Cromwell, "_ce scelerat_," as she was accustomed to call him. By the terms of this treaty her three sons were banished from France, and she herself was only permitted to remain with her young daughter because public opinion would not have tolerated the expulsion of a daughter of Henry IV. The Princes went off to Bruges, where Charles fixed his Court, and to mark their displeasure they took service under the Spaniard. Henrietta had to bear the insults as best she could. She had nowhere to go; for when a year earlier she had thought of a journey to Spain, it had been intimated to her that his Catholic Majesty would prefer her to remain on the French side of the Pyrenees.

The only satisfactory aspect of the matter was that now the Queen felt it possible to press for the payment of her dowry. Her relatives of France, particularly Queen Anne, were liberal, but Henrietta was made to feel now and then

"how salt his food who fares Upon another's bread--how steep his path Who treadeth up and down another's stairs,"[399]

and, besides, hers was too proud a nature to relish dependence. She knew that any scheme likely to spare the coffers of France would be grateful to Mazarin, whose immense riches, splendid palace, and magnificent collection of pictures and curios, the fruit of an unbounded avarice, were the talk of Paris. The request was proffered. The reply came, and Mazarin carried it himself to the Queen. Speaking with the Italian accent, which his long years of residence in France had not been able to eradicate, he explained to her that the Protector refused to give her that for which she asked, because, as he alleged, she had never been recognized as Queen of England.

The refusal was bad enough, but the gross insult with which it was accompanied could not fail to cut Henrietta to the heart, but she did not love Mazarin and she had too much spirit to betray her chagrin. "This outrage does not reflect on me," she said proudly, "but on the King, my nephew, who ought not to permit a daughter of France to be treated _de concubine_. I was abundantly satisfied with the late King, my lord, and with all England; these affronts are more shameful to France than to me."

This episode did not decrease Henrietta's hatred for Cromwell. It was even said by one of her women, who played the part of spy, that she was overheard plotting his murder with Lord Jermyn. But she had not long to endure his usurpation of the seat of her husband, whose regal t.i.tle she believed him to have refused solely from fear of the army. On September 3rd, 1658, the anniversary of Dunbar and Worcester, Oliver Cromwell died amid a tumult of storm, sympathetic with the pa.s.sing of that mighty spirit.

"It is the Devil come to carry old Noll off to h.e.l.l" was the comment of the Royalists, who kept high revel in Paris and elsewhere at the news of his death, though the Queen, whom long sorrow was at last making slow to hope, did not join in the jubilation. "Whether it be because my heart is so wrapped up in melancholy as to be incapable of receiving any [joy]," she wrote to Madame de Motteville, "or that I do not as yet perceive any good advantages likely to accrue to us from it, I will confess to you that I have not felt myself any very great rejoicing, my greatest being to witness that of my friends."[400]

It was not, indeed, until the Treaty of the Pyrenees in 1659 that there seemed to be solid hope for the King of England. Then Charles left his Court at Bruges, and traversing all France, had an interview with Don Louis de Haro, the powerful minister of Spain, who received him with all ceremony as a sovereign prince. Mazarin still obstinately refused to receive him, but he had an interview with his uncle, the Duke of Orleans, at Blois, and afterwards pa.s.sed a few days with his mother at Colombes, on the outskirts of Paris, where she had a small country house. Both mother and son may have been to some extent hopeful, but neither knew how near the day was when the prophecy of a French rhymester after Worcester would be fulfilled, and

"la fortune N'ayant plus pour luy de rancune Le mettra plus haut qu'il n'est bas."[401]

[Footnote 367: "Amyd the Arrests lately made one is for the seazure of the King's revenue to the use of the Parliament and in other things they doe soe imitate the late proceedings of England that it plainly appears in what schoole some of their members have been bred who make them believe they are able to instruct them how to make a rebellion w^{th} out breaking their allegiance."--Dispatch of Sir R. Browne, January 22nd, 1649. Add. MS., 12,186, f. 9.]

[Footnote 368: "Letters from Paris received January 15th, 1648," p. 6.]

[Footnote 369: "Une sainte et la mere des pauvres."--Mme de Motteville.]

[Footnote 370: Quoted by Mme. de Motteville with reference to this occasion.]

[Footnote 371: The Chaillot tradition, which is found in the MS. _Histoire chronologique de tout l'ordre de la Visitation_, 1693 (Bib. Mazarine, MS.

2436), and in _La Vie de la tres haute et tres puissante Princesse Henrietta Marie de France, reine de la Grande Bretagne_, of Cotolendi, who derived much of his information from the Chaillot nuns, places the scene of Henrietta's reception of the news of her husband's death in the Carmelite convent, and Cotolendi represents the King's letter as delivered on that occasion; but, Father Cyprien, in his account, says that the Queen was at the Louvre when she heard of her husband's fate, and though he is not always accurate, it seems probable that the scene of such an event would remain in his mind. Moreover, Madame de Motteville says no word of the Carmelite convent in this connection. It seems likely that the nuns of Chaillot confused the Queen's account of the reception of the news of her husband's death with that of his last letter. The above account has been written on this hypothesis; the letter which Cotolendi quotes was no doubt preserved with other memorials of the Queen among the Chaillot archives.]

[Footnote 372: John Ward: _Diary_, 1648-79 (1839), p. 161.]

[Footnote 373: "Exhortation de la Pucelle d'Orleans a tous les princes de la terre de faire une Paix generale tous ensemble pour venger la mort du roy d'Angleterre par une guerre toute particuliere. A Paris. MDCXLIX."]

[Footnote 374: Fonds Francais MS., 12,159. _Remonstrances aux Parlementaires de la mort ignominieuse de leur roy dediees a la Reyne d'Angleterre._]

[Footnote 375: The same argument is developed in a curious tract, which shows the rather cool att.i.tude of some of the English Catholics to Charles, ent.i.tled, _Nuntius a Mortuis, hoc est, stupendum ... ac tremendum colloquium inter Manes Henrici VIII et Caroli I Angliae Regum_ (1649).]

[Footnote 376: MS. Francais, 12,159.]

[Footnote 377: Henrietta, even before the lesson of her husband's death, urged the Queen-Regent to show moderation. She prevailed upon her to receive the members of the rebellious Parliament on the day of Barricades.]

[Footnote 378: "Vous diries que Dieu veut humilier les Roys et les princes.

Il a commence par nous en Engleterre; je le prie que la France ne nous suive pas, les affairs ysy alant tout le mesme chemin que les nostres."--_Lettres de Henriette Marie a sa soeur Christine_, p. 100.]

[Footnote 379: "Le veritable entretien de la Reyne d'Angleterre avec le roy et la Reyne a S. Germain-en-Laye en presence de plusieurs Seigneurs de la Cour et autres personnes de consideration (1652)."]

[Footnote 380: It was this n.o.bleman of whom Charles I said that he had no religion at all.]

[Footnote 381: _Nicholas Papers_, I, 293.]

[Footnote 382: To which the following extract from a Roundhead newspaper bears witness: "Onely one thing we have notice of that she [the Queen] hath begged of his Holiness a Cardinalls Hat for Wat Montaue. Then (boyes) for sixpence a peece you may see a fine sight in the Tower if the Axe prevent not and send him after the Cardinall (would have been) of Canterbury, who went before to take up lodging for the rest of the Queen's favourites in Purgatory."--_Mercurius Britannicus_, February, 1645.]

[Footnote 383: In March, 1649, he was given permission to go abroad. The sentence of banishment is dated August 31st, 1649; he was on the Continent considerably before the latter date.]

[Footnote 384: _Nicholas Papers_, I, 220.]

[Footnote 385: He was appointed Abbot Commendatory in 1654, succeeding Gondi, the first Archbishop of Paris, but "sur certaines difficultes survenues sur ses Bulles en leur fulmination," he did not take possession of the Abbey until 1657. See _Histoire de l'Abbaye de S. Martin de Pontoise Bibliotheque Mazarine_. MS. 3368. Pontoise ... Auttore, D. Roberto Racine (1769).]

[Footnote 386: "I do not at all marvel that any man who can side with the Presbyterians, or that is Presbyterian cloth, turn Papist, I would as soon be the one as the other."--Sir E. Nicholas to Lord Hatton, _Nicholas Papers_, I, 297.]