Well, Bassompierre’s letter was in the possession of Madame d’Entragues, who, however, of course, knew nothing of the one which her daughter had given that gentleman; and when the Comte de Soissons reproached her with her indifference to Mlle. Marie’s indiscretions, she informed him that she was not so careless a mother as he appeared to imagine, and could easily prove it. The prince pressed her to do so, upon which she triumphantly showed him the promise of marriage.
“Monsieur le Comte,” says Bassompierre, “very pleased to have found an opportunity of injuring me, assured her of his protection and begged her to follow his counsel in this affair, in which he promised to secure for her a favourable result. This foolish woman, to satisfy the malignity of Monsieur le Comte, placed herself entirely in his hands, and he counselled her to press me to execute this promise, and, in case of my refusal, to cause me to be summoned before the diocesan court.”
Madame d’Entragues did not fail to follow this advice and, on meeting with a flat refusal from Bassompierre, promptly instituted proceedings against him.
“I soon recognised the hand which had cast this stone at me, and Monsieur le Comte boasted publicly that he was in a position to ruin me in fortune or honour. I assembled a council of my advocates to learn how I was to comport myself in this situation. They were unanimously of opinion that, in strict justice, I had nothing to fear, but that Monsieur le Comte was a redoubtable enemy, and advised me to drag the affair out until a favourable time arrived.”
Bassompierre endeavoured to persuade the Regent to intervene in his behalf, but, though Marie de’ Medici, with whom he was a favourite, since he was one of the few nobles whose loyalty to the Crown admitted of no question, was very sympathetic and promised him every assistance in her power, her position was far too precarious just then to admit of her offending a Prince of the Blood. All he could do, therefore, was to act upon the advice of the legal luminaries whom he had consulted; and, on various pretexts, he succeeded in deferring his appearance before the diocesan court for some months, at the end of which he appealed to the jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Sens, who was the metropolitan of the Bishop of Paris. This insured him a further respite, and, before the case came on for trial, he appealed to the Parlement of Paris, and was beginning to plume himself on his astuteness, when the Comte de Soissons interposed and got the affair transferred to the Parlement of Rouen, to the great consternation of Bassompierre, who knew that Soissons would not scruple to use all his influence as Governor of Normandy to prejudice that body against him.
The annoyance and expense which this affair was occasioning him, and for which, it must be admitted, he is hardly entitled to much sympathy, did not prevent Bassompierre from continuing his life of pleasure, and he took a prominent part in the splendid fêtes in honour of the double betrothal of Louis XIII to Anne of Austria, and of the Infant Philip, afterwards Philip IV of Spain, to Élisabeth of France, eldest daughter of Henri IV. For Marie de’ Medici had completely reversed the foreign policy of her husband, and Spanish influence was once more in the ascendant at the Court of France.
These fêtes, originally fixed to begin on March 25, 1612, the day on which the formal announcement of the approaching marriage was made at the Louvre, in the presence of the Spanish Ambassador and the officers of the Crown of France, had been postponed until April 5, owing to the death of the Queen’s brother, Vincenzo I, Duke of Mantua. Their principal feature was a carousal in the Place-Royale on a scale of unprecedented magnificence, in which Bassompierre appeared as one of the challengers.
“At three o’clock in the afternoon, the Queens, princesses and ladies took their places on the stands which had been prepared for them, besides which there were all round the Place-Royale, rising from the pavement to the level of the first floor of the houses, other stands holding 200,000 people. Then the cannon placed on the bastion fired a salvo, after which the thousand Musketeers who lined the barriers fired another, a very beautiful one. This finished, M. de Praslin, marshal of the camp of the challengers, emerged from the Palace of Felicity, from which came the sound of all kinds of musical instruments. He was splendidly mounted and attired, and was followed by twelve lackeys habited in black velvet bordered with gold lace. He came, on our behalf, to demand from the Constable (who occupied a private stand with the Maréchal de Bouillon, de la Châtre, de Brissac, and de Souvré) the camp which he had promised us. The Constable and the marshal descended from their stand and advanced to that of the King and Queen; and the Constable said: ‘Madame, the challengers demand the camp which I have promised them by your Majesty’s order.’ The Queen answered: ‘Monsieur, grant it them.’ Upon which the Constable said to M. de Praslin: ‘Take it; the King and the Queen accord it you.’ Then he returned to us, and the great door of the palace, which was opposite that of the Minims, was flung open, and we entered the camp, preceded by all our retinue, war-chariots, giants,[84] and other things so beautiful that it is impossible to describe them in writing; and I shall only say that nearly five hundred persons and two hundred horses took part in our entry alone, all habited and caparisoned in crimson velvet and white cloth-of-silver, and our costumes were so richly embroidered that nothing could exceed them in magnificence. Our entry cost the five challengers 50,000 écus.[85] The troupe of the Prince de Conti entered after ours, followed by that of M. de Vendôme, who danced a very beautiful ballet on horseback.[86] Then came M. de Montmorency, who entered alone, and the Comte d’Ayen[87] and the Baron d’Ucelles,[88] under the names of Amadis and Galaor.
“We [the challengers] kept the lists against all these opponents, and when the night drew near, the fête was concluded by a new salvo of cannon, followed by that of the thousand Musketeers; and, when darkness fell, there was the most beautiful display of fireworks over the Château of Felicity that was ever seen in France.