Of all the monarchs that ever lived, we like to hear Henry IV. of France speak. His words come forth with that unstudied frankness which proves that they flow from a manly heart and a right mind. He had his faults—what human creature has not? but neither the annals of France nor England describe a king with whom we would rather have sat in council; have followed his white panache in the battle-field; have crossed the hand of friendship, or chatted in a lady’s bower, than with the good, valiant, and witty Béarnais. We verily think that delightful word of the French language, bonhomie, was coined to express the character of Henry IV.
“Such,” says the historian, “were the words and sentiments of this generous prince; the evils which oppressed his people penetrated his compassionate and tender heart. He could not endure the idea,” says Sully, “of seeing that city, of which Providence had destined him the empire, become one vast cemetery; he held out his hands to all he could secretly assist, and shut his eyes upon the supplies of provisions which his officers and soldiers frequently stole in, whether out of compassion for relations or friends, or for the sake of the heavy prices they made the citizens pay for them.”
He could have carried Paris by the sword; and his soldiers, the Huguenots in particular, demanded that favour of him with loud cries; but he resisted all their entreaties. The duke de Nemours having turned out a vast number of useless mouths, the council advised the king to refuse them a passage. Henry, deeply affected by their melancholy fate, gave orders to let them go where they liked.
“I am not astonished,” said he, “that the chiefs of the League, or the Spaniards, should have so little compassion on these poor people, they are but their tyrants; but as for me, I am their father and their king, and I cannot behold them without being moved to my inward heart.” But he was deceived, if he thought these kindnesses would make any impression upon the Parisians. They availed themselves of his benevolence, without ceasing to regard him as the author of all the public calamities; and when, a short time after, the prince of Parma and the duke de Mayenne, at the head of an army, obliged him to pause in his enterprise, they insulted him who had only raised the siege because he was too sensible to the misfortunes of the besieged.
Paris persisted in its revolt to the month of March, 1594; when the duke de Brissac, who had joined the League because Henry III. had told him that he was good for nothing, either by land or sea, negotiated with Henry IV. and opened the gates of Paris to him, for the reward of the baton of a marshal of France. Henry IV. made his entrée, which only cost the lives of a small body of lansquenets, and of two or three citizens, who endeavoured to induce the people to take up arms against a king who was willing to treat them as a father.
Of the policy or propriety of Henry’s changing his religion, to insure the peaceful possession of his throne, it is not our province to speak.
When Brissac had thrown open the gates, Henry’s troops marched in in silence, keeping close and careful order, and took possession of the squares, public places, and great thoroughfares. After the prévôt des marchands and De Brissac had presented the keys to him, he advanced at the head of a large troop of the nobility, with lances lowered: his march was a triumph, and, from that day, he considered himself among the Parisians, as in the midst of his children. “Let them alone!” cried he, to those who wished to drive back the crowd; “let them alone! they want to see a king.” His clemency extended to all classes, even to his worst enemies, the fanatical preachers. The Spanish garrison quitted Paris the day of his entrée, with the honours of war; Philip’s ministers departing with them. The king placed himself at a window to see them pass, and when they were at a distance, he laughingly cried to them: “Make my compliments to your master, gentlemen, but don’t come back any more.” He received the Bastille by capitulation, welcomed the repentant and submissive Sorbonne, and joined to the parliament of Paris the magistrates of the parliament he had established at Châlons and Tours.
The ridiculous yet bloody war of the Fronde, though it maddened and for a time half-starved the Parisians, and although its two parties were headed by a Condé and a Turenne, does not furnish us with a regular siege.
HENRY THE FOURTH ENTERS HIS CAPITAL.