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

by G. P. R. James

"He has not the whole hearts of his soldiers, like Biron," added the king. "I thought of it, my friend, I thought of it, and begged De Rosny to see what could be done. But who have we here? Oh! our cousins of Longueville and Nevers; and Monsieur d'O, too, whom we hope speedily to replace in his government of Paris, which has been ill-governed enough certainly since he left it."

As he spoke, a large body of French nobles, headed by the persons whom he mentioned, entered the hall; and Monsieur de Biron and the others who were with the king, forming a semicircle on either hand, the gentlemen who had just arrived advanced, and one by one knelt and kissed the monarch's hand. There was, however, a degree of gloom and coldness in their countenances, which betokened no hearty wishes for the welfare of him who had so suddenly been placed upon the throne. When they had all saluted the king, Monsieur D'O, the titular governor of Paris, advanced a step before the rest, and addressed the monarch in the name of all. His tone was respectful, and his words well chosen; but after proceeding to offer some faint congratulations to the king on his accession to the throne, he stated that the fact of his Majesty's adherence to the tenets of the Huguenots pained and embarrassed many who were his faithful subjects and sincere well-wishers; and then he proceeded boldly and unceremoniously to propose that the monarch should reconcile himself to the Church of Rome, and receive absolution for his past heresies, holding out but a half-concealed threat, that if he did not comply with this sudden proposal, the great body of the French nobles and princes of the blood would be obliged to withdraw from the royal army.

Henry heard him patiently and calmly; though for a moment, while he was making his somewhat extraordinary request, one of those gay and brilliant smiles, with which his countenance was so familiar on ordinary occasions, passed over the king's lip and chequered the gravity of his attention. "My noble cousins and gentlemen," he said in reply, "I confess myself not a little astonished to find that you, who are so strongly attached to your religion, should think me so little attached to mine. It is true my attachment is more a matter of habit than perhaps of reason; for, living as I have lived in the tented field, and spending the greater part of my time between the council chamber and the battle plain, I have had no opportunity of hearing discussed the merit of those questions which unhappily divide the one church from the other. Nevertheless, I should think myself base, and--what is more to the purpose on the present occasion--you also would think me base, if for any worldly advantage I, unconvinced, were to sacrifice the religion in which I have been brought up. That, gentlemen, is impossible. But still I am not so foolish as to say that I will never abandon what is called the Reformed Faith; for, on the contrary, I will zealously and diligently investigate the merits of the arguments on both sides; and, if my conscience will allow me, will take those steps which I well know would be pleasing to the great majority of my subjects. Nevertheless, this must be the work of conviction, not of interest; and I tell you candidly, that I must have, at least, six months to hear, and ponder, and judge, ere I can give you any determinate answer as to what my ultimate conduct in these respects will be. In the meanwhile, believe me, I love you all as my children, and will serve and protect you as such to the utmost of my power; and should there be any one amongst you who has the heart to leave his king at the moment his king most needs his service, let him go in peace, and not be afraid, for I will serve him still, as far as may be, even against his will."

When the king ceased, there were one or two amongst the group of nobles who looked as if they would fain have added something to the speech of their orator; and it was evident the noble and dignified manner in which Henry treated their absurd proposal was not without effect upon any. Like all other bodies of men, however, there were those amongst them destined to lead, and those only fitted to follow; and the latter did not venture to act without the approbation of the former. Bowing in silence then, the whole party retired, and were immediately succeeded by the Baron de Rosny, afterwards famous as the Duke of Sully, who approached with the Marechal d'Aumont. The latter at once, and with graceful zeal in words and manner, tendered his faith and homage to the king, and assured him that the officers under his command would present themselves within an hour to swear allegiance to their new monarch. He again was succeeded by another, in whom St. Real instantly recognised the Duke d'Epernon, though he had changed his garb within the last hour, and now appeared in deep mourning.

The keen eye of Henry IV. at once read his purpose in the countenance of the Duke; and, preventing him from kneeling, he said, "Pause, my cousin, and think what you are about to do. We will excuse your bending the knee to-day, if it be not to be bent tomorrow."

Though fantastic, and even effeminate in appearance, D'Epernon was brave even to rashness, and by no means destitute of that calm and dignified presence of mind which approaches near to greatness. Gravely taking half a step back, he persisted in bending his knee, and kissed the king's hand, replying, "My lord the king! your majesty's right to the throne of France and to the homage of your subjects is incontestable; and deeply do I regret that any circumstances, religious or political, should lessen that zeal which the nobles of France are so willing to display in behalf of their kings. But, to avoid all subjects which it would be painful for your majesty to hear and for me to speak, I come to crave leave to retire for a time to my own lands, which have much need of their lord's presence. I am weary of warfare, sire, somewhat anxious for repose, and my poor peasantry require protection and assistance."

"Well, cousin of Epernon," replied the monarch, "if you be really disposed to imitate the great Roman and hold the plough, my service shall not detain you; but let me trust that you are not about to reverse the scriptural prophecy, and turn the ploughshare into a sword in favour of new friends."

"I need no sword, sire," replied the duke, "but that which I lately proved beside your majesty at Tours; and be assured that if it be not drawn in your service, it shall not be unsheathed against you."

"Well, well!" said the king, with a sigh, "so be it, if it must be so. Fare you well, fair cousin of Epernon! and may the harvest you are going to reap have fewer thorns than that which is before me, I fear!"

The duke bowed and withdrew; and Henry, turning to those who surrounded him, proceeded with a sigh, "Let them go, gentlemen of France, let them go," he said; "better a few firm friends, than a discontented multitude. On you I repose my whole hopes; but we must lose no time. My confidence in your judgment and in your affection is unlimited; and therefore I send you forth amongst the mingled crowd of friends and enemies which surrounds me in the camp, with no other direction or command than this. Do the best you can for your king and for your country. Rejoin me here again in the evening, to let me know what has been done; by that time we shall have learned what troops remain with us, and shall be able to determine upon our future conduct."