Next day, sending back the carriages of the Prince of Orange, in which they had thus far performed the journey, they set forth towards Paris, reaching Saint-Denis at noon of the third day.  Here they were met by de Bonoeil, introducer of ambassadors, sent thither by the King to give them welcome, and to say that they would be received on the road by the Duke of Vendome, eldest of the legitimatized children of the King.  Accordingly before reaching the Saint-Denis gate of Paris, a splendid cavalcade of nearly five hundred noblemen met them, the Duke at their head, accompanied by two marshals of France, de Brissac and Boisdaulphin.  The three instantly dismounted, and the ambassadors alighted from their coach.  The Duke then gave them solemn and cordial welcome, saying that he had been sent by his father the King to receive them as befitted envoys of the best and most faithful friends he possessed in the world.

The ambassadors expressed their thanks for the great and extraordinary honour thus conferred on them, and they were then requested to get into a royal carriage which had been sent out for that purpose.  After much ceremonious refusal they at last consented and, together with the Duke of Vendome, drove through Paris in that vehicle into the Faubourg Saint Germain.  Arriving at the Hotel Gondy, they were, notwithstanding all their protestations, escorted up the staircase into the apartments by the Duke.

“This honour is notable,” said the commissioners in their report to the States, “and never shown to anyone before, so that our ill-wishers are filled with spite.”

And Peter Pecquius was of the same opinion.  “Everyone is grumbling here,” about the reception of the States’ ambassadors, “because such honours were never paid to any ambassador whatever, whether from Spain, England, or any other country.”

And there were many men living and employed in great affairs of State, both in France and in the Republic—­the King and Villeroy, Barneveld and Maurice—­who could remember how twenty-six years before a solemn embassy from the States had proceeded from the Hague to France to offer the sovereignty of their country to Henry’s predecessor, had been kept ignominiously and almost like prisoners four weeks long in Rouen, and had been thrust back into the Netherlands without being admitted even to one audience by the monarch.  Truly time, in the course of less than one generation of mankind, had worked marvellous changes in the fortunes of the Dutch Republic.

President Jeannin came to visit them next day, with friendly proffers of service, and likewise the ambassador of Venice and the charge d’affaires of Great Britain.

On the 22nd the royal carriages came by appointment to the Hotel Gondy, and took them for their first audience to the Louvre.  They were received at the gate by a guard of honour, drums beating and arms presented, and conducted with the greatest ceremony to an apartment in the palace.  Soon afterwards they were ushered into a gallery where the King stood, surrounded by a number of princes and distinguished officers of the crown.  These withdrew on the approach of the Netherlanders, leaving the King standing alone.  They made their reverence, and Henry saluted them all with respectful cordiality.  Begging them to put on their hats again, he listened attentively to their address.