He was silent for a few moments, and then spoke again.  “I shall not always be here,” he said, “nor will you always have Prince Maurice, and a few others whose knowledge of your commonwealth is perfect.  My Lords the States must be up and doing while they still possess them.  Nest Tuesday I shall cause the Queen to be crowned at Saint-Denis; the following Thursday she will make her entry into Paris.  Next day, Friday, I shall take my departure.  At the end of this month I shall cross the Meuse at Mezieres or in that neighbourhood.”

He added that he should write immediately to Holland, to urge upon his Excellency and the States to be ready to make the junction of their army with his forces without delay.  He charged the ambassadors to assure their High Mightinesses that he was and should remain their truest friend, their dearest neighbour.  He then said a few gracious and cordial words to each of them, warmly embraced each, and bade them all farewell.

The next day was passed by the ambassadors in paying and receiving farewell visits, and on Saturday, the 8th, they departed from Paris, being escorted out of the gate by the Marshal de Boisdaulphin, with a cavalcade of noblemen.  They slept that night at Saint Denis, and then returned to Holland by the way of Calais and Rotterdam, reaching the Hague on the 16th of May.

I make no apology for the minute details thus given of the proceedings of this embassy, and especially of the conversations of Henry.

The very words of those conversations were taken down on the spot by the commissioners who heard them, and were carefully embodied in their report made to the States-General on their return, from which I have transcribed them.

It was a memorable occasion.  The great king—­for great he was, despite his numerous vices and follies—­stood there upon the threshold of a vast undertaking, at which the world, still half incredulous, stood gazing, half sick with anxiety.  He relied on his own genius and valour chiefly, and after these on the brain of Barneveld and the sword of Maurice.  Nor was his confidence misplaced.

But let the reader observe the date of the day when those striking utterances were made, and which have never before been made public.  It was Thursday, the 6th May.  “I shall not always be here,” said the King, . . .  “I cannot be ready at any moment to spring out of my kingdom.” . . .  “Friday of next week I take my departure.”

How much of heroic pathos in Henry’s attitude at this supreme moment!  How mournfully ring those closing words of his address to the ambassadors!

The die was cast.  A letter drawn up by the Duc de Sully was sent to Archduke Albert by the King.

“My brother,” he said; “Not being able to refuse my best allies and confederates the help which they have asked of me against those who wish to trouble them in the succession to the duchies and counties of Cleve, Julich, Mark, Berg, Ravensberg, and Ravenstein, I am advancing towards them with my army.  As my road leads me through your country, I desire to notify you thereof, and to know whether or not I am to enter as a friend or enemy.”