One in a Thousand; or, The Days of Henri Quatre

by G. P. R. James

De Sancy replied that they were about to join the rest; and Biron, after running his eyes with a glance of some attention and pleasure over the fine and soldier-like person of St. Real, asked his companion in a low voice who he was. De Sancy replied in the same tone; and the Marshal rejoined in a louder voice, "Indeed, indeed!--I knew his father too--I knew him well, in the time of my uncle, you know. Monsieur de St. Real, I am glad to see you here, and I hope----" But here their conversation was interrupted by an officer requiring them to give up their swords, a ceremony which the two commanders seemed prepared for, and with which St. Real, of course, complied without opposition. De Biron then again turned towards St. Real, as if to conclude his sentence; but ere he could speak, a young man, whom St. Real had remarked with the King of Navarre as he rode into town that morning, came up, and after shaking hands with Monsieur de Sancy, drew Biron aside, whispered a word in his ear, and then passed on. The Marshal smiled, and from this slight indication De Sancy drew a favourable augury, saying to St. Real, ere the other rejoined them, "I think from that smile all will go well. That young gentleman is Rosny, an especial friend and adherent of his present Majesty."

By this time they had nearly reached the chamber in which the nobles of France, with the body of their late monarch lying in a room not very distant, and their lawful sovereign seated in the apartment directly above them, were deliberating what use they should make of the power which a foul and unjustifiable act of their common enemy had thrown into their hands. The table at which they were placed was nearly full, and Marshal Biron, with De Sancy and St. Real, placed themselves in a group at the end next to the door; while the Duke of Longueville, who was speaking when they entered, went on. He was a young man of a handsome and prepossessing appearance; but his manner was timid, and his elocution hesitating and difficult. He did not seem so much to want ideas as words, and appeared even to want words more from not having any confidence in himself, than from any other cause. He expressed shortly and confusedly the determination of himself, and of the little knot of princes and gentlemen by whom he was surrounded, to acknowledge the title of Henry IV. to throne of France, and to serve him with their whole souls, if he would renounce the Protestant heresy, and reconcile himself to the church of Rome. If he refused to do so, the Duke continued, it would be for the gentlemen, in whose name he spoke, to consider whether they would not beg leave to retire from his service.

Apparently not knowing how to wind up his speech, he was deviating into one of those long and unmeaning tirades with which unskilful orators often attempt to let themselves drop by degrees, when he was suddenly interrupted by the Duke of Epernon, who said, somewhat sharply, "In your offers of service, my lord Duke, I beg you to omit my name. I have much to do on my own lands, and have borne arms long enough."

"I will beg you to except me also," said the Count d'Aubin, who was sitting near the Duke of Longueville, and rose to speak as soon as he saw that Epernon had concluded. "I will not serve Henry King of Navarre, and I trust that my reasons are good ones. As a Catholic, I should think it treachery to my faith were I to attempt to establish a heretic monarch upon the throne of this realm. Therefore, if the king remains attached to the Huguenots, notwithstanding the eloquence of Monsieur de Longueville, I cannot remain in his army; and if he be suddenly converted by the arguments of my lord Duke, my faith in the miracle will be too small to assure me that it will last. For myself, gentlemen, I see no choice. If the king remain unchanged, he is a heretic; were he to change suddenly, he would be a hypocrite; and in neither case can I draw my sword in his behalf."

There was something sneering and bitter in the tone of the Count d'Aubin, which, though it made the Duke of Longueville, and others of the undecided party, hate him, and inclined them more than before to the service of Henry IV. yet rendered others, even better disposed towards the monarch, afraid to answer; and, for a moment there was a pause. Seeing that no one spoke, however, St. Real took a step forward to the table, and, without the slightest degree of hesitation, addressed the assembly, while his name passed from mouth to mouth, and many an enquiring ear was turned to hear what one of the simple St. Reals would say, after the speech of the sarcastic Count d'Aubin.

"Gentlemen of France," he said, "my opinion, in many respects, coincides with that of my cousin who has just spoken." D'Aubin, De Sancy, and Biron, looked at him and each other in astonishment. "My opinion," he repeated, "in many respects coincides with his; but, as is very often the case with us, my conduct will be the direct reverse. I think as he does, that to ask his Majesty to change his religion on a sudden change of fortune, were to ask him to become a hypocrite; and I should as soon think of requiring him to do so, in order to gain my services, as he would think of requiring me to abandon my faith to merit his favour. Let us be too just to do the one, and we may feel sure that he is too just to do the other. The claims of his majesty, King Henry IV. are known to us all. As the lineal descendant of St. Louis, he is king of this realm of France, unless some of his acts have been so black as to render him incapable of reigning. Now what have his acts throughout life been up to this day, but noble, generous, chivalrous, worthy to lead a nation of brave hearts upon the path of honour? And shall we attempt to pry into his conscience? Shall we demand that, by a sudden abjuration of his long-cherished belief, he should stain that honour which he has ever held so pure and spotless? The worst that the most zealous Catholic can apprehend--and none is more zealous than I am--is that a Protestant monarch should interfere with our faith. Let us not set him the example by interfering with his, and take for a guarantee of his future conduct the whole of his conduct that has gone before. We have, at this moment, two claims upon us--the claims of our country and our king,--both equally powerful on the hearts of Frenchmen, and happily both in this instance leading us in the same direction. Our first duty is to put an end to the factions which have torn this unhappy land, and left her scarce a shadow of her former prosperity; to compel the rebellious to submission, and teach the ambitious to limit their expectations to their rights,--to bring back, in short, security, and peace, and union to France. This can only be done by bending all our energies to uphold the shaken throne, and with those good swords, which have never yet been drawn in an unjust quarrel, to open a way for our gallant and our rightful monarch to the seat and the power of his ancestors. This, at least, is my determination; and I trust that I shall see no one who aspires to honour during life, or glory after death, fall from his duty at a moment when the safety of his country and the throne of his king depend upon union, energy, and fidelity."

"Well spoken, on my soul," cried Gontaut de Biron. "Well spoken, on my soul! And if all here present act up to it, the monarchy is safe!"

"That at least will I," rejoined De Sancy; "for I hold that to propose any terms to his Majesty at this moment when--encompassed is we have too fatally seen, by assassins, surrounded by difficulties and dangers, and opposed by an ambitious faction--he comes unexpectedly to a perilous throne, were base and ungenerous indeed. Let those who will, join the party of the assassin; my voice and my sword are ready for Henry IV."

The speech of De Sancy was followed by one of those slight murmurs which betoken a vacillation of opinion in a popular assembly. Each man looked in the face of his neighbour; some smiled and nodded to the speaker, as if in approbation of what he had said; some frowned and bit their lips; some whispered eagerly to the persons next whom they sat; and the cheek of the Count d'Aubin, as De Sancy denominated the League "the party of the assassin," grew as red as fire, while the veins in his temple might be seen swelling out through his clear dark skin.

There was a pause for a moment; but D'Aubin recovered himself quickly, and said, "Methinks the three noble gentlemen who, not deigning to take a seat amongst us, remain standing at the foot of the table, have not come here to deliberate, but to announce their determination; and if that determination were binding upon all the princes and nobles of France, it would become us to submit and break up the council; but as that is not exactly the case, I would propose that we should continue our consultations, without yielding more than due weight to the veto of Monsieur de Biron, the pithy sentences of the noble leader of the Swiss, or to the speech of my worthy but somewhat inexperienced cousin--a speech evidently got by heart."