Henrietta's constant endeavour was to disabuse her husband's mind of this, perhaps not unreasonable, prejudice. She met with fair success, so that a Catholic writer felt able to describe Charles as a "Prince of most milde and sweet disposition," who suffered the partial execution of the recusancy laws rather from political and financial than from religious reasons, and whose "great ornaments of God and Nature doe in a manner foretell that one day he shall restore this country to its former happiness, and himself become the most glorious and most renowned Monarch that ever did governe among us."[140] There was, of course, only one way by which this happy consummation could be attained, and already some sanguine spirits were beginning to think of another and happier Pole reconciling England anew to the Holy See. And there were other and perhaps more solid grounds for hopes in the changing character of the Anglican Church, which about this time was attracting great attention among a certain school of Catholics. The results of the Elizabethan settlement were becoming apparent, and the two great parties, known then as Protestant and Puritan, now as High Church and Low Church, were beginning to stand out clearly. Liberal-minded Catholics, some of them converts from the English Universities, were learning, what the narrower type of Seminarist refused to recognize, the wide gulf which yawned between an Anglican "Protestant" and a continental Sectary. Already in the days of James a French priest[141] of Ville-aux-clercs' train was surprised by the decorum of the liturgy at Westminster Abbey, and roundly abused as liars the English Catholics of the Continent who had drawn fancy pictures of Anglican services. The religious revival, with which the name of Laud is associated, emphasized every Catholic element yet remaining in the Church of England. It was barely a century since the schism. Bérulle, living in London or at the Court, regarding all with unfriendly and prejudiced eyes, might be surprised at the total absence of all sign or memory of the old religion. But had a man of sympathy gone about among the people, or sought the lonely valleys of Yorkshire and the remote villages of Devon and Cornwall, he would have told another tale of lingering superstitions, of ancient customs which had their root in Catholic practices. Such a man as Bishop Andrewes, who died in old age in 1626, and who was the master of Laud, is a witness that the Church revival of the seventeenth century was no more a complete innovation than that of the nineteenth century, which is associated with the names of the Tractarians, to which, in many respects, it bears so close a resemblance. But under the patronage of the King and the Archbishop the movement developed rapidly. Altars were set up, decked in Catholic fashion, in most of the cathedrals and in many parish churches; Latin services were read at Oxford and