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.