Enviable position of Bassompierre at the Court of France--The
Connétable de Montmorency offers him the hand of his beautiful
daughter Charlotte, the greatest heiress in France--The
marriage-articles are drawn up--The consent of Henri IV is
obtained--The Duc de Bouillon, whom Bassompierre has offended,
endeavours to persuade the King to withdraw his sanction and to
marry Mlle. de Montmorency to the Prince de Condé (_Monsieur le
Prince_)--Henri IV falls madly in love with the young
lady--Singular conversation between the King and Bassompierre, in
which his Majesty orders the latter to renounce his pretensions to
Mlle. de Montmorency’s hand--Astonishment and mortification of
Bassompierre, who, however, yields with a good grace--Bassompierre
falls ill of chagrin and remains for two days “without sleeping,
eating or drinking”--He is persuaded by his friend Praslin to
return to the Louvre--Mlle. de Montmorency is betrothed to the
Prince de Condé--Bassompierre falls ill of tertian fever, but rises
from his sick-bed to fight a duel with a Gascon gentleman--The
combatants are separated by friends of the latter--Serious illness
of Bassompierre.
Bassompierre had now fairly established his claim to be regarded as “the
most amiable and elegant gentleman of the Court,” and his position was
in every way an enviable one. He was idolised by the ladies to a degree
that no gallant has ever been either before or since his time, with the
possible exception of the too-celebrated Maréchal de Richelieu, in the
days of Louis XV;[57] liked and admired by the men, who looked upon him
as “the glass of fashion and the mould of form;” so great a favourite of
the King that his Majesty grumbled whenever he absented himself from
Court, and there seemed no rank or office, however high, to which he
might not ultimately aspire; and, though not wealthy, as wealth was
accounted in those days at the Court of France, enabled, thanks to his
extraordinary good fortune at play, to vie with the greatest in the
land in luxury and extravagance. “It would have been well,” says a
writer of the time, Tallemant des Réaux, “if there had always been at
the Court someone like him; he did the honours and received and
entertained foreigners. I used to remark that he was at the Court what
_Bon Accueil_ was in the romance of _la Rose_. People everywhere used to
call a man a Bassompierre, if he excelled in good looks and the elegance
of his appearance and manners.”
But Bassompierre possessed more solid claims to the universal popularity
which he enjoyed than these. He was not only an adept at all manly
exercises, but a good musician, a sound classical scholar, and a master
of four languages: French, German, Spanish, and Italian. Despite his
follies, his innumerable gallantries, his gambling, and his prodigality,
he possessed a vein of sound common-sense, which caused him to be
consulted frequently by those who were in pecuniary or other
embarrassments; and he was a kindly, good-natured man, who held aloof
from the intrigues of the Court, never spoke ill of anyone, and was
always ready to do a service to a friend who needed it. And he was now
about to receive the most flattering tribute to his better qualities
possible to imagine--one, indeed, which he could not have hoped for even
in his fondest dreams--namely, the offer of a bride who was at once the
most beautiful girl at the Court, the greatest heiress in France, and,
with a single exception,[58] the young lady of the highest rank in the
land after the daughters of the Princes of the Blood.
* * * * *
One day, in October, 1608, the old Connétable de Montmorency, with whom
Bassompierre had always been a great favourite, invited him to dine with
him on the morrow, at the same time impressing upon him the importance
of not failing to be there, which was no doubt a very necessary
precaution, in view of the frequency with which that young gentleman’s
love-affairs and gambling-parties must have necessitated the breaking of
other social engagements. On his arrival at Montmorency’s hôtel, he
found that the Duc d’Epernon, the Marquis de Roquelaure, Zamet, and a
_maître des requêtes_ named La Cave, had also been invited, all four
being intimate friends of both the Constable and himself; and from their
presence he divined that some important matter which must concern him
very closely was in the wind.
After dinner, Montmorency conducted his guests into his chamber, where
they were joined by Du Tillet-Girard, his confidential secretary, and
his physician Rancin, the latter of whom the Constable directed to
station himself at the door and on no account to allow their privacy to
be interrupted. Then, in a solemn speech, the old nobleman proceeded to
inform them of the reason which had led him to invite them there that
day.
Having, he said, arrived at the close of life, he had deemed it his duty
to look around him for a man to whom he might give his youngest daughter
in marriage--one who might be agreeable both to himself and to her; and,
although he might choose amongst all the princes in France, he preferred
his daughter’s happiness to her elevation, and to see her, during the
rest of his days, living in joy and contentment. For which reason, the
esteem which he had so long entertained for the person and family of M.
de Bassompierre had decided him to offer him what others of far higher
rank would most gladly accept. And he had wished to do this in the
presence of his best friends, who were likewise M. de Bassompierre’s,
and to tell him that, having loved him as dearly as if he were his son,
he desired to make him so by marrying him to his daughter, being assured
that she would be happy with him, knowing as he did his good qualities;
and that M. de Bassompierre, on his part, would hold himself honoured in
marrying the daughter and grand-daughter of Constables of France; while
he (Montmorency) would be happy the rest of his days if he saw them both
living happily and contentedly together. He added that it was his
intention to give his daughter a dowry of 100,000 crowns, while she
would receive another 50,000 on the death of his younger brother;[59]
and if nothing prevented M. de Bassompierre from accepting the offer
which he now made him, he would instruct Du Tillet-Girard to draw up, in
conjunction with whatever person he might choose to appoint, the
marriage-articles.
“There were tears of joy in his eyes when he finished speaking,”
writes Bassompierre, “and, as for me, I was so overcome by an
honour as unhoped for as it was dear to me, that words failed me to
express what I felt. At length, I told him that this honour so
great and so unexpected which he, in his generosity, designed for
me deprived me of the power of speech; that I could only marvel at
my good fortune; that it was above all my expectations, as it was
above my deserts; that it could only be repaid by very humble
service and infinite submission; that my life would be too short to
requite it, and that I could only offer him entire devotion to his
will; that it was not a husband whom he would give his daughter,
but a being by whom she would be incessantly adored like a goddess
and respected like a queen, and that he had not chosen a son-in-law
so much as a domestic servant of his House, whose every action
would be guided by his intentions and wishes alone; and that if
anything abated the excess of my joy, it was the apprehension that
Mlle. de Montmorency, who could choose from all the marriageable
princes in France, might regret renouncing the quality of princess,
of which she ought with reason to be assured, to occupy that of a
simple lady; and that I would prefer to die and lose the honour
which Monsieur le Connétable designed for me than occasion her the
least regret or discontent. And upon that, as I occupied a rather
low seat close to his own, I placed a knee to the ground, and,
taking his hand, kissed it, while he held me in a long embrace.
After which, he told me not to entertain any fear of that, as,
before speaking to me, he had consulted his daughter, and found her
perfectly disposed to fulfil all the wishes of her father, and
particularly in that which was not disagreeable to her.
“MM. d’Épernon and de Roquelaure approved the choice which the
Constable had made of my person, and said more kind things
concerning me than I merited; as did also Zamet, La Cave, and Du
Tillet-Girard; and they then all embraced me, praising the
Constable’s choice and felicitating me on my good fortune. After
this, the Constable told them that it was not opportune to reveal
this affair, and that he entrusted it to their discretion until the
time came to divulge it; because he was not just then in the good
graces of the King, since he had refused his consent to the
marriage which the King had desired to bring about between M. de
Montmorency[60] and Mlle. de Verneuil,[61] his daughter. This they
promised him, and I likewise.
“The Constable requested me to come to him again in the evening,
when Madame d’Angoulême, his sister-in-law[62] would be there,
saying that he intended to speak before her
[Illustration: CHARLOTTE MARGUERITE DE MONTMORENCY, PRINCESSE DE CONDÉ.
From an engraving by Barbant.]
and his daughter of his decision to give the latter to me in
marriage. On my arrival, he said to me before her: ‘My son, here is
a wife whom I am keeping for you; salute her.’ This I did, and
kissed her. Then he spoke to her and to Madame d’Angoulême, who
seemed very content with the choice which her brother-in-law had
made of me for her niece.”
The following day, the Princess de Conti, who had been let into the
secret, took Madame de Bassompierre to the Constable’s hotel and
presented her to the Duchesse d’Angoulême, who received her very
graciously, observing: “We shall be the two mothers of our newly-married
pair, and I know not whether you or I, Madame, will be the most
rejoiced.” Madame de Bassompierre then had an interview with the
Constable, who impressed upon her the importance of keeping the affair
secret for the present, and proposed that, meanwhile, their respective
men of business should meet and draw up the marriage-articles. This was
accordingly done, Du Tillet-Girard acting for the one side, and
Bauvillier, Procurator-General of the Cour des Monnaies, for the other;
and a draft was submitted to the Constable and Madame de Bassompierre,
and duly approved by them.
Shortly after this, the Constable, who, Bassompierre tells us, did not
seem able to see enough of his prospective son-in-law or to think of
anything but advancing his interests, proposed to give him at once
50,000 crowns out of his daughter’s promised dowry, to enable him to
purchase the post of Colonel-General of the Light Cavalry, whose
occupant, the Comte d’Auvergne, was then in the Bastille and likely to
remain there indefinitely, though his wife, the Constable’s eldest
daughter, had been allowed to receive the salary attached to it. Madame
de Bassompierre, however, offered to find this sum, and suggested that,
in lieu of the dowry of 100,000 crowns, Montmorency should give her son
the estate of La Fère-en-Tardenois, near Château-Thierry, with remainder
to his daughter and any children which might be born of the marriage.
To this the Constable readily agreed, and, at the same time, told
Bassompierre to make ready to come secretly to Chantilly, where he
intended that the marriage should be celebrated so soon as possible, in
the presence of none but members of his family and a few intimate
friends. However, their common friend Roquelaure, who was making great
efforts to reconcile the King to Montmorency, sought to dissuade the
latter from this step, pointing out that, if he gave his daughter in
marriage without previously informing his Majesty and obtaining his
approval, he would offend him still more; while the King would certainly
be seriously annoyed if so great a favourite of his as Bassompierre were
to marry without consulting him.
Now, Henri IV had, some time before this, expressed a desire that
Bassompierre should become one of his First Gentlemen of the Chamber, in
place of the Duc de Bouillon, whose haughty airs displeased his Majesty,
and had promised to give him 20,000 crowns to assist him to purchase
this coveted office from the duke. He had also sent a gentleman of his
Household to Bouillon to sound him upon the matter, and the latter had
intimated his willingness to resign his post, in consideration of
receiving the sum of 50,000 crowns, though it was believed that he would
accept a smaller sum. Anyway, he was coming to the Court almost
immediately, for the purpose of settling the matter. Roquelaure, who was
much attached to Bassompierre, and had himself suggested to Henri IV
that he should aid him to purchase the post, told the Constable that the
announcement of his approaching marriage would be an excellent
opportunity for Bassompierre to obtain from the King the 20,000 écus he
had been promised, for which otherwise he might have to wait long,
since, where money was concerned, the Béarnais was far more ready to
promise than to perform.
Bassompierre was of the same opinion, and, since the Constable was not
just then on visiting terms with his sovereign, it was decided that he
and Roquelaure should wait upon Henri IV that evening, and that, after
the former had acquainted the King with his matrimonial intentions, the
latter should inform him that he came on behalf of the Constable to
demand his Majesty’s consent to his daughter’s marriage. This they did,
and the King, not only expressed his warm approval of the marriage, but
declared that, in view of such a happy event, he felt that he could no
longer remain on bad terms with the Constable, and sent Bassompierre to
tell the old nobleman to come and see him on the morrow, when he might
rest assured that he would be well received.
The following day, after receiving the Constable, whom he treated very
graciously, Henri IV, at Bassompierre’s request, paid a visit to the
Duchesse d’Angoulême, and told her that he had come, not as the King,
but as Bassompierre’s personal friend, to see the young lady whom he was
about to marry and to rejoice with her that so admirable a husband had
been chosen for her. And he said all manner of kind things about
Bassompierre, and spoke much of the affection which he entertained for
him.
So far everything had gone smoothly, but now an obstacle arose.
That same evening the Duc de Bouillon arrived at Court. The King at once
spoke to him about the proposed purchase of his post of First Gentleman
of the Chamber by Bassompierre, and he answered that he had come to
arrange the matter. Bassompierre, who was present, with several other
nobles and gentlemen, exchanged a few words with the duke, as did the
rest of the company; but he forgot to pay him a visit on the morrow, as
he most certainly ought to have done, seeing that Bouillon was the
Constable’s nephew,[63] and “for all manner of other reasons.” His
unfortunate omission appears to have wounded the pride of this most
haughty of nobles, who was already none too well disposed towards the
projected marriage, since he believed that it was the work of the Duc
d’Épernon, of whom, Bassompierre tells us, he had been all his life
intensely jealous. He therefore resolved to do what he could to prevent
it, and that evening, when he was talking to the King, who had just
returned from the Queen’s apartments, “where he had seen Mlle. de
Montmorency, whom he and everyone had found perfect in beauty,” he told
him that he was greatly astonished that his Majesty should have given
his consent to the marriage, since the Prince de Condé, the first Prince
of the Blood,[64] was of an age to marry, and that, while it was
inexpedient that he should marry a foreign princess, there were no young
ladies of sufficiently high rank for him to wed in France, with the
exception of Mlle. de Mayenne and Mlle. de Montmorency. Well, no one who
had his sovereign’s interests at heart could possibly counsel his union
with Mlle. de Mayenne, since the remnant of the League was still too
powerful for it to be prudent to strengthen it by a marriage between the
daughter of its former chief and the first Prince of the Blood. On the
other hand, there could be no such objection to his marriage with Mlle.
de Montmorency, which would give him no new connections, since he was
already related to the Montmorencys on his mother’s side.[65] And he
besought his Majesty very humbly to weigh the counsel which he had had
the honour to give him and to reflect well upon it. This the King
promised to do, and the interview ended.
It happened that the next day had been appointed by the Queen for the
rehearsal of a grand ballet entitled _les Nymphes de Diane_, which some
of the ladies of the Court, carefully chosen for their grace and beauty,
were to dance during the approaching Carnival, Mlle. de Montmorency
being amongst the number. The rehearsal took place in the great hall of
the Louvre, from which all the masculine portion of the Court, with the
exception of the King, the Grand Equerry, the Duc de Bellegarde, and
Montespan, the Captain of the Guards, were rigorously excluded. The
sight of Mlle. de Montmorency, who, according to Mézeray, had been cast
for the part of Diana, in the costume of ancient Greece, proved
altogether too much for the susceptible monarch, and inspired him with
sentiments very different from those which that chaste goddess was
supposed to implant in the hearts of men. In a word, he straightway fell
madly in love with her. “_Monsieur le Grand_,” writes Bassompierre,
“faithful to his habit of praising to excess anything new, and
particularly Mlle. de Montmorency, infused into the excitable mind of
the King that love which afterwards caused him to commit so many
extravagances.”
The same evening the King was attacked by his old enemy, the gout, in so
severe a form that he was obliged to keep his bed for a fortnight; and,
most unfortunately as it was to prove for Bassompierre, the Constable
also fell ill of the same malady, so that the wedding, which it had been
decided was to take place almost immediately at Chantilly, had to be
postponed until the old gentleman was well enough to leave Paris.
Meanwhile, Bassompierre had learned that the Duc de Bouillon was
endeavouring to prevent the marriage. That nobleman, it appears, had
told Roquelaure, who lost no time in informing his friend, that “M. de
Bassompierre wanted to have his office of First Gentleman of the
Chamber, and said nothing to him about it; that he wanted to marry his
niece, and said not a word to him upon the matter; but that he would
burn his books if he had either his office or his niece.”
Having already represented to the King the advisability of reserving the
hand of Mlle. de Montmorency for the Prince de Condé, the duke sought an
interview with Condé himself and proposed the match to him, pointing out
that this alliance would give him for relatives all the grandees of
France, who would become the very humble servants of a personage of his
exalted rank, and that, if he did not marry Mlle. de Montmorency, he
would probably have to spend the remainder of his days in single
blessedness, because the King would not allow him to wed a foreign
princess, and there was no other young lady in France of suitable rank,
with the exception of Mlle. de Mayenne, and the King would never consent
to his marrying her. These arguments were not without effect, and
eventually Condé authorised him to approach the Constable on his behalf.
The Constable, warned by Bassompierre of his nephew’s machinations, told
him not to allow them to disquiet him, since whatever match was proposed
to him he should refuse it, adding that he knew M. de Bouillon’s ways
far too well to be persuaded by him. He was as good as his word, and
when Bouillon spoke to him on the subject, he met with a sharp rebuff,
the Constable telling him that he had no need to seek a husband for his
daughter, as he had found one, and that he already had the honour of
being _Monsieur le Prince’s_ great-uncle, which was enough for him.
During the illness of Henri IV, Bellegarde, Gramont, and Bassompierre
took it in turn to sit up with him at night, the long hours being passed
in reading to him d’Urfé’s sentimental romance _Astrée_, which was then
enjoying a great vogue, or in conversation, for the King suffered so
much pain that sometimes he was unable to sleep at all. It was the
custom of the Princesses of the Blood to visit the sick-room daily; and
the Duchesse d’Angoulême on more than one occasion brought her niece
with her. One day, while the duchess was talking to one of his
gentlemen, Henri IV, who did not disguise the pleasure which Mlle. de
Montmorency’s visits gave him, called the girl to his bedside, told her
that he intended to love her as if she were his own daughter, and that
she should be lodged in the Louvre when Bassompierre was on duty as
First Gentleman of the Chamber. He then desired her to tell him frankly
whether she were pleased with the marriage which had been arranged for
her, because, if it were not to her liking, he would soon find means to
break it, and marry her to his nephew, the Prince de Condé. The damsel
replied demurely that, since it was her father’s wish, she would esteem
herself very happy with M. de Bassompierre. And, writes that gentleman,
“he [the King] told me afterwards that these words made him resolve to
break my marriage, from fear lest, if I married her, she should love me
too much to be agreeable to him.”
“M. de Gramont,” continues Bassompierre, “sat up with the King that
night, during which he slept but little, for love and the gout keep
those whom they attack very much awake. At eight o’clock the
following morning he sent a page of the Chamber to fetch me, and,
when I came, inquired why I had not sat up with him the previous
night. I answered that it was M. de Gramont’s night, and that the
next was mine. He told me that he had not closed an eye, and that
he had often thought of me. Then he made me place myself on a
hassock by his bedside (as was customary for those who entertained
him when he was in bed), and went on to tell me that he had been
thinking of me and of a marriage for me. I, who suspected nothing
so little as what he was going to say, replied that, but for the
Constable’s attack of gout, my marriage would already have been
concluded. ‘No,’ said he, ‘I thought of marrying you to Mlle.
d’Aumale,[66] and, in consideration of this marriage, of renewing
the duchy of Aumale in your person.’[67] I asked him if he wished
to give me two wives, upon which, after a deep sigh, he replied:
“‘Bassompierre, I wish to speak to you as a friend. I am not only
in love, but madly and desperately in love, with Mlle. de
Montmorency. If she marries you, and loves you, I shall hate you;
if she loves me, you will hate me. It is better that this should
not be the cause of interrupting our friendly intercourse, for I
have much affection for you. I am resolved to marry her to my
nephew the Prince de Condé,[68] and to retain her about the person
of my wife. She will be the consolation and support of the old age
upon which I am about to enter. I shall give my nephew, who is
young and cares more for the chase than for ladies, a hundred
thousand francs a year, wherewith to amuse himself, and I do not
desire any other favour from her than her affection, without
pretending to anything further.’”
Bassompierre’s astonishment and dismay at this announcement can well be
imagined. But he was above all things a courtier, and, aware that
opposition to the infatuated monarch’s will would be worse than futile,
he resolved to make a virtue of necessity, and proceeded to assure the
King of his joy at being afforded an opportunity of showing his devotion
to his Majesty, by cheerfully resigning to him what he valued more than
his own life.
But let us allow him to continue his narrative of this singular
interview:--
“While he was telling me this, I was reflecting that, were I to
reply that I refused to abandon my suit, it would be but a useless
impertinence, because he was all-powerful; and, having decided to
yield with a good grace, I said:--
“‘Sire, I have always ardently desired a thing which has happened
to me when I was least anticipating it, which was the opportunity
of showing your Majesty, by some signal proof, the extreme and
ardent devotion which I cherish for you, and how truly I love you.
Assuredly, I could not have met with one more suitable than
this--of abandoning without pain and without regret an alliance so
illustrious, and a lady so perfect and so passionately beloved by
me, since by this resignation which I am making I please in some
way your Majesty. Yes, Sire, I renounce it for ever, and trust that
this new love may bring you as much joy as the loss of it would
occasion me distress, were it not that the consideration of your
Majesty prevents me feeling it.’
“Then the King embraced me and wept, assuring me that he would make
my fortune as if I were one of his natural children, and that he
loved me dearly, of which I should be assured, and that he would
recompense my honesty and my friendship. The arrival of the princes
and nobles made me rise, and, when the King recalled me and told me
again that he intended me to marry his cousin d’Aumale, I answered
that he had the power to prevent my marriage, but, as for marrying
elsewhere, ‘that is a thing which I will never do.’ And with that
our conversation terminated.”
That day Bassompierre dined with the Duc d’Épernon, to whom he related
what the King had said to him. D’Épernon was disposed to make light of
the matter. “It is merely a caprice of the King,” said he, “which will
pass as quickly as it came. Do not be alarmed about it; for when
_Monsieur le Prince_ understands what the King’s intentions are, he will
not commit himself.” Bassompierre tried to persuade himself that such
was the case, and, on the duke’s advice, said nothing to anyone else
about the matter.
In the evening, as he and two or three other gentlemen were playing at
dice with the King at a table placed beside his bed, the Duchesse
d’Angoulême entered the room with her niece, whom she had brought, it
appeared, in response to a message from his Majesty. The King
immediately ceased playing and had a long and earnest conversation with
the duchess on the further side of the bed. Then he called Mlle. de
Montmorency and spoke to her also for a long time. It was evident that
he informed her that Bassompierre had renounced his pretensions to her
hand, and that he intended to bestow it upon the Prince de Condé, for
when the conversation came to an end and the girl turned away, she
glanced in her unfortunate suitor’s direction and shrugged her pretty
shoulders.
“This simple action,” writes Bassompierre, “pierced me to the heart
and affected me to such a degree that, feeling quite unequal to
continuing the game, I simulated a bleeding of the nose and left
the first cabinet and the second. On the stairs the _valets de
chambre_ brought me my cloak and hat. My money I had left to take
care of itself, but Beringhen[69] gathered it up. At the bottom of
the staircase I found M. d’Épernon’s coach, and, entering it, I
told the coachman to drive me to my lodging. I met my _valet de
chambre_ and went up with him to my room, where I instructed him to
say that I was not at my lodging; and I remained there two days,
tormented like one possessed, without sleeping, eating, or
drinking. People believed that I had gone into the country, as I
was in the habit of playing such pranks. At length, my valet,
fearing that I should die or lose my reason, acquainted M. de
Praslin, who was much attached to me, of the state in which I was,
and he came to see me, in order to divert my mind.”
M. de Praslin succeeded in persuading Bassompierre that there was still
something to live for, and brought him that evening to the Louvre, where
“everyone was at first astonished to see that in the space of two days
he had become so thin, pale and changed as to be unrecognisable.”
A few days later, the Prince de Condé announced his intention of
marrying Mlle. de Montmorency. The prince, who was by no means an
amiable young man, had taken a dislike to Bassompierre, whose
pretensions to the young heiress’s hand would, but for the intervention
of the King, have most certainly been preferred to his own; and
happening to meet his discomfited rival, said to him with obvious
malice: “M. de Bassompierre, I beg you to come to my hôtel this
afternoon and accompany me to Madame d’Angoulême’s, whither I propose
going to pay my respects to Mlle. de Montmorency.”
“I made him a low bow,” says Bassompierre, “but I did not go there.”
It is probable that the loss of Mlle. de Montmorency’s dowry and all the
advantages which his alliance with so illustrious a family would have
brought him distressed Bassompierre a good deal more than the loss of
the young lady herself.
“It is true,” says he, “that there was not at that time under
Heaven a being more beautiful than Mlle. de Montmorency, nor one
more graceful or perfect in every respect. She had made a deep
impression upon my heart; but, as it was a love which was to be
regulated by marriage, I did not feel my disappointment so much as
I should otherwise have done.”
Nor had he far to look for consolation, and “in order not to remain idle
and to console myself for my loss, I sought diversion in making my peace
with three ladies, with whom I had totally broken in expectation of
marrying--one of them being Antragues.”
If, however, like a true courtier, he had been ready to bow to the
caprice of his sovereign, and to make the best of the situation, his
vanity had been wounded far too deeply for him to allow himself “to be
led in triumph”--as he expresses it--by Condé, when that prince’s formal
betrothal to Mlle. de Montmorency took place:
“I was that morning in the King’s apartments, when _Monsieur le
Prince_, after speaking to several others, approached me and said:
‘M. de Bassompierre, I beg you to come this afternoon to my hôtel
and accompany me to my betrothal at the Louvre.’ The King, seeing
him speak to me, inquired what he had said. ‘He has asked of me,
Sire,’ I replied, ‘a thing which I am unable to do.’ ‘And why?’
said he. ‘It is to accompany him to his betrothal. Is he not
sufficiently great to go alone, and can he not be betrothed without
me being present? I answer that, if there is no one to accompany
him but myself, he will be very badly escorted.’ The King said that
it was his wish that I should go, to which I replied that I begged
his Majesty not to command me, for go I would not; that his Majesty
ought to be content that I had renounced my passion at the first
expression of his desires and wishes, without desiring to force me
to be led in triumph, after having ravished away my wife and all my
happiness.’ The King, who was the best of men, said to me: ‘I see
well, Bassompierre, that you are angry, but I assure you that you
will fail not to go when you have reflected that he who has asked
you is my nephew, first prince of my blood.’ Upon which he left me
and, taking MM. de Praslin and Termes aside, ordered them to go and
dine with me and persuade me to go, since duty and decorum demanded
it of me. And this I did, after a little remonstrance, but in such
fashion that I did not set out until the princesses were conducting
the _fiancée_ to the Louvre, and were passing before my lodging,
which obliged me to accompany her with the gentlemen who had dined
with me. And then, from the gate of the Louvre, we returned to find
_Monsieur le Prince_, whom we met as he was leaving the Pont-Neuf
to come thither. The betrothal took place in the gallery of the
Louvre, and the King maliciously leant upon my shoulder and kept me
close to the affianced couple during the whole ceremony.”
Two days afterwards, Bassompierre fell ill of tertian fever, and one
morning, while he lay in bed, he received a visit from a Gascon
gentleman named Noé, who had, or imagined he had, some grievance against
him, and who had come to inquire whether he might have the honour of
fighting a duel with him, so soon as his strength would permit.
Bassompierre replied that he had enough and to spare whenever it was a
question of giving another gentleman satisfaction, and, rising
forthwith, ordered a horse to be saddled, dressed, and rode off to the
“field of honour,” which M. de Noé had appointed at Bicêtre. It was
hardly the kind of day which even a hale man would have chosen to
indulge in one of these little affairs, as there was a thick fog, and
the ground was two feet deep in snow. But he scorned to turn back, and
at length reached the rendezvous, where he found his adversary awaiting
him.
It had been agreed that, as Bassompierre was in no condition to fight on
foot, the combat should take place on horseback; but just as it was
about to begin, two Gascons, named La Gaulas and Carbon, with a third
man called Le Fay, all of whom were apparently friends of Noé, came
galloping up, with the intention of preventing the duel, and called out
to that fire-eating gentleman: “You can meet some other time.”
Bassompierre, however, having put himself to so much inconvenience just
to oblige M. de Noé, was highly indignant at the interruption, and,
resolved not to return to Paris without striking at least one blow,
shouted to his adversary to mount his horse, and rode towards him. Noé,
who was as anxious to get at Bassompierre as the latter was to get at
him, threw himself into the saddle, and though his friends endeavoured
to intercept him, he contrived to evade them; and he and Bassompierre
were about to cross swords when Carbon urged his horse against the flank
of Noé’s with such force that he bore both the animal and its rider to
the ground. Noé was soon in the saddle again, but the fog was now so
thick that it was quite impossible for one man to recognise another,
with the consequence that Bassompierre came near to killing La Gaulas,
whom he mistook for Noé. This mishap put an end to the combat, and
Bassompierre, who was feeling so ill that he could scarcely sit his
horse, made his way to Gentilly, where fortunately he found some
friends of his, who assisted him back to Paris.
One might suppose that, after this adventure, our gentleman would have
been content to remain in bed for a day or two; but, since there
happened to be a grand ballet at the Arsenal that evening, at which all
the Court was to be present, and which he was particularly anxious to
attend, he must needs array himself in all his bravery and go out into
the snow and fog again. The result of this imprudence was that he fell
dangerously ill and was at one time at death’s door; and the spring had
come before he was about again.