He writes from Calais to a friend: "Those innocent
recreations you mention of tabors and pipes, and dancing ladies, and
convenient country houses, shady walks and close arbours, make one sigh to
be again a spectator of them, and to be again in little England, where time
slides more gently away than in any part of the world. _Quando sia mai ch'a
rividerti io torno_?"

He went this time knowing better than his fellow royalists the meaning of
events. He was still a rank, but at least an intelligent, conspirator.
English correspondents at Rouen and Caen report him in the company of one
Watson, an Independent; and that he is proposing "to join the interests of
all the English papists with the bloody party that murdered the king." Dr.
Winsted, an English doctor in Rouen, asked him with indignation how he
could meditate going back to England, "considering the abomination of that
country." Digby replied that he was forced to it. "If he went not now he
must starve." He plainly saw who was the real and only force in England;
and he was going to make a bargain with the strong man for himself and his
co-religionists. As a matter of fact there is no trace of his return at
this moment. Not merely was his property in danger, but his head as well.
Yet he never repented of his policy, and he carried it out, so far as might
be, in his dealings with Cromwell a few years later. And Henrietta Maria
bore him no grudge on this score.

Exile in Paris meant friendly intercourse with, and consolation of the
Queen, but also scientific research. In 1651 Evelyn was visiting him there,
and being stirred by his enthusiasm into attending Febur's chemistry
lectures along with him. Before that must have taken place his pilgrimage
to Descartes, who died in 1650. Apparently Sir Kenelm had gone to Egmont as
an unknown stranger; and it throws light on his wide reputation as a man of
ideas and a conversationalist, that into his torrent of questions and
speculation Descartes broke with, "You can be none other than Digby." The
English scientist's practical mind--for he had always a practical end in
view, however fantastic his methods--showed itself in his counsel to the
author of the _Discours sur la Methode_. Why all this labour for mere
abstract speculation? Why not apply his genius to the one great subject,
the prolongation of human life? Descartes, it appears, did not need the
advice. He said the subject was engaging his mind; and though he "dared not
loo