Bassompierre goes to Prague, where the Imperial Court is in
residence--He is presented by Rossworm to the lords of the
Council--He dines at the house of Prestowitz, Burgrave of
Karlstein, and falls in love with his widowed daughter, “Madame
Esther”--Bassompierre and Rossworm engage in an amorous adventure,
from which they narrowly escape with their lives--Bassompierre
plays tennis with Wallenstein, with the Emperor Maximilian an
interested spectator--He is presented to the Emperor, who receives
him very graciously and commissions him to raise troops in Lorraine
for service against the Turks. Bassompierre, Rossworm and other
nobles parade the streets masked and have an affray with the
police--Singular sequel to this affair--Bassompierre spends the
Carnival with the Prestowitz family at Karlstein--Amorous escapade
with “Madame Esther”--Bassompierre sets out for Lorraine--He
engages in a drinking-bout with the canons of Saverne, which very
nearly has a fatal termination--Death of his brother Jean, Seigneur
de Removille, at the siege of Ostend--Grievances of Bassompierre
against the French Government--Henri IV promises that “justice
shall be done him” and invites him to return to his
Court--Bassompierre renounces his intention of entering the
Imperial service and sets out for France.
In Vienna, Bassompierre remained for six weeks, where he “passed his
time extremely well,” and about the middle of January, 1604, set out for
Prague, where the Imperial Court was then in residence.
“At Prague,” he writes, “I found Rossworm, who since our
reconciliation had been on terms of the closest friendship with me.
He came, the following morning, to my lodging in his coach to take
me to the hall of the Palace of Prague,[42] where we walked up and
down until the Council rose, when the lords of the Council came to
salute Rossworm, whom they held in great respect, on account of his
being commander-in-chief of the Army. He then presented me to them,
begging them to honour me with their friendship and saying many
kind things concerning me.”
On leaving the Palace, Rossworm took Bassompierre to dine with an old
Bohemian noble named Prestowitz, who occupied the post of burgrave of
Karlstein, the fortress in which the Imperial regalia and all the
charters of Bohemia were preserved. The burgrave had two sons, the elder
of whom was Grand Falconer of the Empire, while the younger, Wolf von
Prestowitz, had served with Bassompierre in the recent campaign, and
aspired to the command of the cavalry regiment which Bohemia was to send
to Hungary that year. For which reason the family were exceedingly civil
to the great Rossworm, who could do much to obtain this post for the
young man. The burgrave also possessed four young and pretty daughters.
Rossworm, it appeared, was in love with the youngest girl, Sibylla;
while Bassompierre promptly lost his heart to the third daughter, named
Esther, “a young lady of excellent beauty, eighteen years of age, widow
since six months of a gentleman called Briczner, to whom she had been
married a year.”
“We were nobly received and entertained at Prestowitz’s house,” he
continues, “and after dinner there was dancing, when I began to
fall in love with Madame Esther, who made me understand that she
was not displeased with my design, which I revealed to her as I was
leaving the house. For she responded in such a way as to afford me
the means to write to her, and to tell me the places which she
visited, so that I might go there. I went also to see her sometimes
at her house, under cover of the friendship which had sprung up
between her younger brother and myself, when we were in Hungary.”
His new-born passion for “Madame Esther” did not, however, prevent our
gentleman from indulging in other amorous adventures of a much less
excusable character:
“On our return from dining with the Prestowitz family, Rossworm,
thinking to oblige me, engaged me in a rather unfortunate affair.
He had bargained with an innkeeper of the New Town that, for two
hundred ducats, he should surrender to him his two daughters, who
were very beautiful. I am of opinion, as will appear from the
sequel, that he had taken advantage of this poor man when he was
drunk to obtain such a promise from him. When we had arrived within
some two hundred paces of this inn, we alighted from our coach,
which we ordered to turn round and await our return; and Rossworm
and I, with a page of his, who was to act as interpreter, went the
rest of the way on foot.
“We found the father in the room where the stove stood, and with
him his two daughters, who were going about their work. He was very
astonished to see us, and still more so when Rossworm made him
understand that each of us had brought him a hundred ducats for
what the innkeeper had promised him. Thereupon the man cried out
that he had never promised any such thing, and, opening the window,
shouted twice: ‘_Mortriau! Mortriau!_’ that is to say, ‘Murder!’
Then Rossworm held his poniard to the innkeeper’s throat, and
directed the page to tell him that if he spoke to the neighbours or
did not order his daughters to do our will, he was a dead man, and
told me to take away one of the girls.... But I, who had been at
first under the impression that I was engaged in an affair in which
all the parties were in accord, answered that I did not intend to
touch the girls. Rossworm then said that, if I did not wish to do
so, I must come and hold my poniard to the father’s throat, and
that he would take one of the girls away.... This I did very
reluctantly; and the poor girls wept.”
The odious Rossworm had already seized upon one of the unfortunate girls
to drag her away, when a great shouting reached their ears, and looking
out of the window, he saw a large and threatening crowd, which had come
in response to the innkeeper’s cries for help, gathered before the
house. Thereupon he let his intended victim go, and told Bassompierre
that they were in grave danger, and would need all their courage and
presence of mind if they wanted to leave that house alive. Then, turning
to the innkeeper, he told him--or rather made the page do so--that he
would kill him, if he did not contrive their escape from the mob. Now,
the innkeeper was wearing a long smock, under which Rossworm placed his
poniard, pressing the point against the man’s flesh, and told
Bassompierre to give his dagger to the page, that he might do likewise.
In this fashion they went out of the room and along the passage to the
door of the inn, where the trembling Boniface gave some apparently
satisfactory explanation to his neighbours, for the latter, who, of
course, could not see the poniards pressed against his back, began to
disperse.
Then Rossworm and the page, imagining that the danger was over, sheathed
their poniards, and they and Bassompierre began to walk away in the
direction of their coach. But they had gone but a few paces, when the
innkeeper, recovering from his alarm, began to shout: “Murder! Murder!”
again with all the strength of his lungs. They took to their heels and
ran for their lives, pursued by an infuriated mob, who pelted them with
volleys of stones, which they had apparently collected at the first
alarm.
“Then Rossworm cried out to me: ‘Brother, _sauve qui peut!_ If you
fall, do not expect me to pick you up, for each of us must look to
his own safety.’ We ran pretty fast, but the rain of stones
incommoded us greatly, and one of them, striking Rossworm in the
back, brought him to the ground. I, who did not wish to treat him
in the manner in which he had just announced his intention of
treating me, raised him up and helped him along for some twenty
paces, when, happily, we reached our coach. Into this we threw
ourselves, and were soon in safety in the Old Town, having escaped
from the paws of more than four hundred people.”
Next day, Rossworm, presumably out of gratitude to Bassompierre for
having saved his life at the risk of his own, secured for him the high
privilege of admission to the Emperor’s ante-chamber, which was usually
only accorded to princes and very great nobles. Here he appears to have
met the Count von Wallenstein, the great captain of the Thirty Years’
War, then a youth of twenty, who, a few days later, challenged him to a
match at tennis. During the game the Emperor appeared at a window of the
palace which overlooked the tennis-court, and remained there for some
time, an interested spectator. The following morning his Majesty gave
orders that Bassompierre should be presented to him, and received him
very graciously indeed, observing that his family had always been
faithful servants of the Imperial House, and that he had heard that he
had conducted himself very well in Hungary. He added that, if he wished
to enter his service and would inform him of what post he desired, he
would be very pleased to appoint him to it. Maximilian spoke in Spanish
and requested Bassompierre to reply in the same language.
Shortly after this, the Emperor sent the Count von Fürstenberg to inform
Bassompierre that he proposed making certain changes in the cavalry of
the Imperial Army, and that if he were willing to go to Lorraine and
raise three new companies of light horse and three of musketeers for
service in Hungary, he would appoint him colonel of a thousand horse.
This offer Bassompierre accepted, “foreseeing,” says he, “that France
would remain at peace for a long while, and urged thereto by the intense
love with which Madame Esther had inspired me.”
His attachment to this young lady, however, made him far from anxious to
hasten his departure for Lorraine, and he therefore decided to postpone
it until after the Carnival, which “Madame Esther,” who had returned to
Karlstein, intended to pass at Prague. But, to his great disappointment,
her father, the burgrave, fell ill and she was obliged to remain at
Karlstein. However, notwithstanding the absence of his inamorata, he
contrived to spend a very pleasant time, “with continual feasts and
festivities and very high play at prime between five or six of us, to
wit, Count von Stahrenberg, President of the Kingdom of Bohemia, Adam
Galpopel, Grand Prior of Bohemia, Kinsky, Rossworm and myself. And there
was not an evening in which I did not win or lose two or three thousand
thalers.”
On the occasion of the marriage of the Emperor’s Grand Equerry, which
took place during the Carnival, and the festivities in connection with
which lasted several days, Bassompierre arranged with Rossworm and six
other nobles to parade the town on horseback, masked and splendidly
dressed. As they were passing the Town Hall, some constables came up to
Bassompierre and Rossworm, who, preceded by their pages bearing their
swords aloft, were riding at the head of the party, and informed them
that the Emperor had forbidden anyone to pass through the town masked.
They, however, pretended that they did not understand Sclavonic, and
rode on. No attempt was made to stop them, but, on their return, they
found chains stretched across all the streets leading to the square in
which the Town Hall stood, except the one by which they entered, and, so
soon as they had passed, chains were stretched across that also. Then a
whole company of constables appeared upon the scene, and, beginning with
the hindmost of the party, seized their companions, who, not having
brought their swords with them, were unable to offer any resistance, and
haled them off to prison. Meanwhile, Bassompierre and Rossworm had taken
their swords from their pages, but they did not draw them. However, when
one of the constables attempted to seize the bridle of Bassompierre’s
horse, Rossworm struck him on the hand with his sheathed sword, and, the
blade, breaking through the scabbard, wounded the man somewhat severely.
They were immediately surrounded by more than two hundred police, but,
drawing their swords, they contrived to prevent them from closing with
them and dragging them off their horses, though not without receiving a
volley of blows on their backs and arms.
“This went on for some time,” continues Bassompierre, “until a
chief justice came out of the Town Hall and raised his bâton (which
they call _regimentstock_). Upon this, all the constables laid
their halberds on the ground; and Rossworm (who knew the custom)
threw down his sword and called out to me to do the same instantly.
I did so, otherwise I should have been declared a rebel to the
Emperor and punished as such. Rossworm asked me to answer when the
judge began to question us, as he did not wish to be recognised.
The judge inquired who I was, and I told him without disguising
anything. He then asked the name of my companion, and I answered
that it was Rossworm, whereupon he offered us the most profuse
apologies. Rossworm, annoyed that I had given his name, when he saw
that it was useless to deny it, fell into a rage and threatened the
judge and the constables that he would complain to the Emperor and
the Chancellor and have them severely punished. They tried every
means to appease him, but he, as well as myself, had been too well
beaten to be satisfied with words. They delivered up to us our six
companions, who were more fortunate than ourselves, since they had
suffered nothing worse than a fright, and we rode away. In the
evening we attended the wedding festivities as though nothing had
happened. But, next morning, Rossworm went to the Chancellor, to
whom he spoke very arrogantly, and the Chancellor, to satisfy us,
threw more than 150 constables into prison. Their wives were every
day at my door to obtain a pardon for them, and I solicited
Rossworm very earnestly to grant it. But he was inexorable, and
made them lie a fortnight in prison during the rigour of winter,
from the effects of which two of them died. Finally, with great
difficulty, I contrived to get the rest set at liberty.”
The imprisonment of these unfortunate constables, who had only done
their duty, was indeed a singular way for a Government to encourage the
faithful execution of its orders!
In the town of Prague the New Calendar was in use, but among the
Hussites, in the country districts of Bohemia, it was not observed. In
consequence, after the Carnival was over at Prague, it lasted another
ten days in the country, and the Burgrave Prestowitz invited
Bassompierre, Rossworm, and two Bohemian nobles named Stavata and
Colwrat to come and spend a second Carnival at Karlstein, at which a
large party of nobles and ladies were to assemble. Colwrat was a great
admirer of the Countess Millessimo, the eldest sister of Bassompierre’s
inamorata, while Stavata was just embarking in a romance with her second
sister, the not-too-devoted wife of a gentleman named Colowitz; and “on
Ash Wednesday the four lovers of the four daughters of the burgrave
travelled to Karlstein in the same coach.”
At Karlstein Bassompierre appears to have spent an even more agreeable
time than during the Carnival at Prague:
“We found there more than twenty ladies, including several who were
very beautiful, and it is needless to say we were made welcome by
the daughters of the house, but principally by my lady, who was
enraptured to see me, as I was to see her. For I was desperately in
love with her, and I can say that never in my life did I pass ten
days more agreeably or better employed than those I passed there,
being always at table, at the ball, in the sleigh, or engaged in
another and better occupation. At length, the Carnival being over,
we returned to Prague, with great regret on their part and ours,
but very satisfied with our little journey.”
Before leaving Karlstein, Bassompierre had extracted a promise from
“Madame Esther” that she would take an early opportunity of coming to
Prague; but, as the worthy burgrave fell ill again, very probably in
consequence of the quantity of rich food and strong wine which he had
consumed during the Carnival, she was unable to do this. However, she
hastened to atone to her lover for his disappointment, for “she made him
come in disguise to Karlstein, where he spent five days and six nights
concealed in a chamber near her own.”
On his return from this amorous escapade, Bassompierre prepared to set
out for Lorraine, and, having received his despatches and an order on
the Lorraine treasury for the payment of the troops which he had
undertaken to raise in the duchy,[43] he left Prague on Palm Sunday,
accompanied alone by Cominges-Guitaut, Seigneur de Fléac, a French
gentleman who had served with him in Hungary, and a German _valet de
chambre_.
He spent the first night of his journey at Karlstein, ostensibly to bid
adieu to the burgrave and his family, but, in reality, to take farewell
of “Madame Esther,” who was, of course, very disconsolate at the
departure of her lover, though Bassompierre promised that, so soon as he
had raised his levy, he would return to her side for a little while,
before leading his horsemen into Hungary. As he was still “_éperdument
amoureux_,” and to such a degree that he assures us that the charms of
some very beautiful ladies whom he met at a country-house at which he
stopped on the following day, and where, sad to relate, both he and his
friend Guitaut got very drunk, were powerless to make the smallest
impression upon him, he no doubt fully intended to keep his word; but,
as events turned out, poor “Madame Esther” was never to see him again.
Travelling by way of Pilsen and Ratisbon, he arrived at Munich, where
his friend William II. of Bavaria entertained him very hospitably and
“offered him the command of the regiment of foot which Bavaria
maintained in Hungary, in any year that he cared to accept it, provided
he would notify him before Easter.” The Duke also lent him one of his
own coaches, which brought him to Augsburg, where he took horse to
Strasbourg, and a few days after Easter reached Saverne, and put up at
an inn, with the intention of continuing his journey early on the
morrow.
At Saverne an adventure befell him which might very well have had a
fatal termination:--
“I sat down to table to sup, before going to visit the canons at
the castle; but, as I was about to begin, they arrived to take me
to the château and lodge me there. They were the Dean of the
Chapter, François de Crehange, the Count von Kayl, and the two
brothers von Salm-Reifferscheid. They had already supped and were
half-drunk. I begged them, since they had found me at table, to sit
down with me, instead of taking me to sup at the castle. This they
did, and in a short time Guitaut and I had contrived to make them
so drunk, that we were obliged to have them carried back to the
castle. I remained at my inn, and, at daybreak on the morrow, I
mounted my horse, thinking to depart; but they had, the previous
night, given orders that I was not to be allowed to pass, for they
wished to have their revenge on me for having made them drunk. I
was, therefore, compelled to remain and dine with them, which I had
great cause to regret. For, in order to intoxicate me, they put
brandy in my wine; at least, that is my opinion, though they
afterwards assured me that they had not done so, and that it was
only a wine of Leiperg, very strong and heady. Anyway, I had
scarcely drunk ten or twelve glasses before I lost all
consciousness and fell into such a lethargy that it was necessary
to bleed me several times, to cup me and to bind my arms and legs
with garters. I remained at Saverne five days in this condition,
and lost to such a degree the taste for wine, that for two years I
was not only unable to drink it, but even to smell it, without
disgust.”
So perhaps, after all, this very painful experience may have proved to
be a blessing in disguise.
On his recovery, Bassompierre proceeded to Harouel, but learning that
his mother was at Toul, set out thither, stopping for a few days on his
way at the Abbey of Épinal, of which an aunt of his, Yolande de
Bassompierre, was the Superior. Here he met again his cousin Yolande de
Livron, with whom he had fallen in love two years before, and who
happened also to be a guest of the abbess. This damsel had lately
married the Comte des Cars, but this did not prevent her from being
exceedingly agreeable to her handsome kinsman, and “the fires of their
old passion blazed up again.” However, perhaps fortunately for the young
countess, Bassompierre was soon obliged to continue his journey to Toul,
whence he returned with his mother to Harouel.
Their home-coming was a sad one, for, while at Toul, Madame de
Bassompierre had learned that her second son, Jean, Seigneur de
Removille, who towards the end of the previous year had quitted the
service of France for that of Spain, had died from the effects of a
wound which he had received at the siege of Ostend, and, the day after
their arrival at Harouel, the poor young man’s body was brought there
for burial. Bassompierre was genuinely grieved at the death of his
brother, to whom he had been much attached, and whom he describes as “a
man of high courage and good sense, which, joined to a handsome
presence, would have assured his fortune”; and he was greatly incensed
against Henri IV, or, rather, against Sully, whom he regarded as
indirectly responsible for the sad event.
This requires some explanation.
It appears that, during the Wars of Religion, the French Government had
become indebted to Christophe de Bassompierre for various large sums,
amounting in all to about 140,000 crowns, which Christophe had paid the
troops whom he had raised for their service. As it was not convenient
for the Treasury to discharge the debt, it was decided that certain
estates belonging to the Crown in Normandy--Saint Sauveur-le-Vicomte,
Saint-Sauveur-Landelin, and the barony of Nehou, should be mortgaged to
Christophe, the estates to be administered by persons appointed by him.
It was anticipated that the revenues of these lands would be sufficient
to pay the interest on the money which he had advanced; but this did not
prove to be the case, and the arrears of interest continued to mount up,
until at the time of his death they had reached a very large sum.
However, being on the whole satisfied with the arrangement which had
been made, Christophe does not appear to have taken any steps to press
his claims upon the French Government, nor did his family do so after
his death. But, in the autumn of 1601, Sully, seeing an opportunity of
mortgaging these lands on more favourable terms, persuaded Henri IV to
issue a decree which provided that the money advanced by Christophe
should be refunded to his heirs, with the addition of a sum which
represented less than half of the accumulated interest due to them. The
King--or rather his Minister--defended this decision on the ground that
of late years the Saint-Sauveur lands had become much more valuable, and
had--or ought to have--produced a revenue in excess of the interest due.
Bassompierre protested warmly to the King against the injustice of this
decree, and asked that it should be annulled; and Henri IV, a little
ashamed of the shabby manner in which he had allowed his favourite to be
treated, promised him, shortly before Bassompierre’s departure for
Hungary, that “within two months he should be satisfied.”
However, as time went on, without anything being done, Removille, with
whom his brother had left full authority to settle the matter with the
Government, took upon himself to remind the King of his promise. Henri
IV returned an evasive answer, upon which Removille, who was far less
tactful than his elder brother, spoke to his Majesty “without that
respect or restraint that he ought to have employed.” This brought upon
him a severe reprimand from the King, and, burning with resentment, the
young man promptly quitted Henri IV’s service and entered that of Spain,
in which he met an untimely death.
Nor was this all, for, shortly before Removille’s death, Henri IV,
learning that he had been raising a regiment of foot in Lorraine to
serve in Flanders, and that Bassompierre was raising a body of horse,
concluded, not unnaturally, that the troops which the latter was
recruiting were also destined for Flanders, and that he too had quitted
his service for that of Philip III. Thereupon he seized the Château of
Saint-Sauveur and ejected Bassompierre’s servants.
This news, which reached him almost simultaneously with that of his
brother’s death, served to incense Bassompierre still further against
Henri IV and his advisers, and it is very probable that the Court of
France would have seen him no more, had not the King, ascertaining that
the elder brother’s levy was intended for service against the Turks in
Hungary and that the younger was dead, hastened to make amends for his
high-handed action, and directed Zamet to write Bassompierre a letter of
explanation. In this letter Bassompierre was informed that his Majesty
was greatly surprised and pained that he should desire to quit his
service without cause; that he had not yet allowed the decree of the
Council to be executed, and had only taken possession of the Château of
Saint-Sauveur because Removille had become a Spanish subject and the
château was Crown property; and that he fully intended to make an
arrangement which would be satisfactory to him.
Bassompierre replied that nothing was further from his desire than to
leave the King’s service, but, unless the decree were annulled, he would
be so impoverished that it would be no longer possible to live as
befitted his rank at his Majesty’s Court. This letter had the desired
effect, for Henri IV was really much attached to the gay and lively
Lorrainer, who was a man after his own heart; and, shortly afterwards,
Bassompierre received a letter in the King’s own hand inviting him to
return to the Court, when “he would soon see how good a master he was.”
Bassompierre, feeling sure that the King would keep his word, however
much Sully might protest, decided to return to France forthwith, and
accordingly sent a messenger to Vienna to inform the Emperor that he was
summoned to France by private affairs of the highest importance, and
that it would therefore be impossible for him to raise the troops which
he had intended to recruit for his Imperial Majesty’s service. At the
same time, he returned in full the money which he had received for that
purpose, although he had already disbursed a portion of it. This very
honourable action served to mollify any resentment which the Emperor
might otherwise have felt; and he replied, through Rossworm, that he
should not appoint a colonel of his foreign cavalry for the present, but
would keep the post open for Bassompierre, in case he desired to return
to Hungary the following year.