Under cover of this embassy Walter Montagu thought that he would be able to reach Oxford unobserved. He did not travel with the ambassador, 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 identity 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 amusement, 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 ambassador, 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 title 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-glass 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 gods, Popes, and saints thereon,"[293] and which was boasted