"The capital was in a state of rebellion against its legitimate sovereign; the large towns were, in many instances, held forcibly by the party opposed to the great majority of the inhabitants; the small towns and villages were generally disaffected to the royal cause, or wavering between opposite factions; and the rural districts were divided in their affections, sometimes presenting three or four different shades of opinion within the space of as many leagues. One province was nearly entirely Protestant, another almost altogether Catholic, another equally divided between the two religions. The Parliament of Paris thundered against the Parliament of Tours; the partisans of the late king looked with scarcely less jealousy upon their new sovereign than upon their enemies of the League; and many of those who were indifferent upon the subject of religion, made it their first inquiry how they could sell their services to the best advantage.
"The preceding reigns had extinguished all respect for the law; the vices of the court had banished all notions of morality; and years of license had left barely the sense of common decency amongst the higher classes of the kingdom. Complete disorganisation, in short, existed throughout the whole fabric of society; and no common principle of action could be found as a permanent bond in uniting the members of any great party together. The League itself contained most discordant materials; but it was far more harmonious in its character than the great body of the Royalists; for community of religion at least afforded an apparent motive for combination where more substantial ties were wanting, while difference of faith in the camp of the King was at all times a pretext for dissensions which at any moment might produce disorders, if not actual hostility.
"Such was the state of affairs which Henry knew to exist at the moment when he received the announcement that he had so suddenly become King of France. The generous devotion, indeed, of a few loyal and high-minded men tended greatly to encourage him in the commencement of his career; but apprehension and perplexity must have been the first emotions by which he was affected on entering the Hotel de Gondi and learning that Henry III. was dead. He found still greater alarm, however, reigning amongst the courtiers of the late King. Everything was confusion and disarray, and his presence did not tend to produce harmony and order.
"The moment that his arrival was known, the Scotch guard came and threw themselves at his feet, exclaiming, 'Oh! Sire, you are now our king and our master;' and the active and energetic character of the monarch at once displayed itself in a remarkable manner. Without losing the time of action in thought, he applied himself to take advantage of the consternation of others, and secure the fidelity of the troops and of the court as far as possible, in order that the death of Henry III. might not altogether dissolve the bonds which held together the Royalist party, and overthrow the monarchy itself. He sent directly to the quarters of the Swiss and the French guard, to Marshal D'Aumont, to Biron, and to all in whom he could trust. He wrote during the same night to England, to Flanders, to Switzerland, Germany, and Venice, announcing his accession to the throne, stating his indisputable title, and requesting immediate aid to make it good against his enemies.
"But on entering the chamber of the deceased King a strange and fearful scene presented itself. The room was filled with the Catholic nobility of France; the minions were at the foot of the bed, with tapers in their hands, singing the service of the dead; and all the rest, 'amidst howlings of despair, were drawing down their hats, or casting them on the ground, clenching their fists, plotting together, giving each other the hand, making vows and promises, of which nothing was heard but the ending words—"rather die a thousand deaths."' One voice, however, gave the interpretation of all: a gentleman exclaiming aloud, at ten paces from the King, that he would rather give himself up to any enemies than suffer a Huguenot monarch."
The battle of Arques was the first in which the great martial and heroic qualities of the King were displayed in their full lustre; and there Mr James's animated pen finds a fit subject for description. We pass on, however, to the battle of Ivry, which was, if possible, yet more marvellous and decisive; for the superiority of force on the part of the League was still greater; and Henry's heroic band had dwindled away to little more than one of Napoleon's divisions.
"The numbers of the army of the League it is very difficult to discover, and, indeed, we can very seldom depend upon the statements even of contemporaries regarding the forces engaged in any battle. In one place, Davila reckons the army of Mayenne at four thousand five hundred horse, and twenty thousand foot; but he evidently greatly exaggerates the strength of the infantry, while Aubigné states the numbers at five thousand cavalry, and eight thousand foot, and Cayet says that Mayenne was accompanied by more than four thousand horse, and twelve thousand foot. Henry himself, in his despatch to Monsieur de la Verune, governor of Caen, does not venture even to guess at the numbers of his adversary, but merely says, that the prisoners state their army to have consisted of four thousand horse, and twelve thousand foot, thus confirming the account of Victor Cayet. The Royalist force did not amount to more than two thousand horse, and about eight thousand foot. Just as the battle was about to commence, however, Sully arrived from Pacy, bringing with him his own company, and two companies of English horse arquebusiers, under Colonel James. Several other reinforcements joined during the morning; and it cannot be doubted that the flocking in of zealous friends, while Henry occupied the plain of Ivry, tended greatly to encourage his forces, and to make them forget the superiority of the enemy. As at Coutras, the army of the League appeared covered with glittering trappings, lace and embroidery, while that of the King displayed nothing but cold gray steel.
"As soon as his troops had taken up their position, Henry rode along the line, mounted on a powerful bay charger, clothed in complete armour, but with his head bare, speaking words of hope and confidence to the soldiers, and exhorting them to show the same valour here that they had already displayed in many a perilous enterprise. His countenance was bold and fearless; but it was remarked, that, moved by his own words, his eyes more than once filled with tears. He represented to his troops, that the road to safety, as well as to glory, lay before them; that the crown of France depended upon their swords; that there were no new armies to fall back upon in case of defeat: no other nobles in France to take the field for him, if they who surrounded him should fail. He then put himself at the head of the line, where he could be seen by all, and heard by many, and with his hands clasped and his eyes raised to heaven, he exclaimed: 'I pray thee, oh God, who alone knowest the intentions of man's heart, to do thy will upon me as thou shalt judge necessary for the weal of Christendom, and to preserve me so long as thou knowest I am needful for the happiness and repose of this land, and no longer.' Then turning to his own squadron, he took his casque, surmounted by a large plume of white feathers, and said: 'Companions, God is with us, there stand his enemies and ours. Here is your king. Upon them! and if you lose your cornets, rally to my white plume. You will find it in the road to victory and honour.' During some part of the morning one of his officers remarked to him that he had provided no place of retreat, but Henry replied: 'There is no other retreat than the field of battle.'
"Before commencing the engagement, the King performed one of those generous and honourable acts, so well calculated to win all hearts, and carry the love of his people along with him. It would seem that Schomberg, who commanded the Germans in his service, had previously demanded the pay of his troops, which was long in arrear, and that Henry had replied sharply: 'No brave man ever asked for money on the eve of a battle.' At this moment of peril the King's heart smote him for what he had said; and approaching the old officer, he spoke thus: 'Monsieur de Schomberg, I have injured you. This day may be the last of my life, and I would not take away the honour of any gentleman. I know your valour and your merit, and I beseech you to pardon and embrace me.'
"'Sire,' answered Schomberg, 'you wounded me the other day it is true, but to-day you kill me; for the honour you do me will force me to die for your service.'