Early on the morrow, Condé left Taillebourg, but, before his departure, he gave Mlle. de la Trémoille, “two lines in his own handwriting and signed by him, containing the assurance of his good faith touching their future marriage.” Then, “after a thousand reiterated promises that death alone should be the separation of their union,” he took leave of his betrothed and returned to Brouage.
The siege of this town was progressing rapidly; Condé’s forces closely invested it on the land side, while the little Huguenot fleet blockaded the port; a portion of the outworks had already been captured, and its fall seemed assured, when the prince thoughtlessly engaged in a most disastrous enterprise.
It happened that a Huguenot captain named Rochemorte, attached to a small force which Condé had sent across the Loire to make an incursion into Anjou and Normandy, had succeeded, with a mere handful of men, in taking by surprise the citadel of Angers. The town, however, remained in the hands of the Catholics; the daring Rochemorte and his little band were being closely besieged, and, unless reinforcements speedily arrived, he would be obliged to capitulate. This news caused great excitement in the Protestant camp, and the prince, instead of contenting himself by the despatch of a force sufficient to enable Rochemorte to hold the captured citadel, was persuaded by his flatterers to go in person and attempt the capture of the town. So brilliant a success, they assured him, would entirely eclipse the military reputation of the King of Navarre, change the whole course of events, and strike such consternation into the enemy that very soon he might be able to carry the war to the very gates of Paris.
It was a most rash undertaking, for not only was Angers a strongly-fortified town, but the neighbourhood was the point of concentration for the Catholic armies destined to operate in the South, and was swarming with the enemy. However, his jealousy of his cousin, and his anxiety to distinguish himself in the eyes of his lady-love, rendered him deaf to the voice of reason; and, after wasting a good deal of precious time in preparations for his expedition, he set off for Angers, at the head of some 2000 horse, three-fourths of whom were mounted arquebusiers.
On the way, he had an interview with the Duchesse de Thouars, who was journeying to Taillebourg to join her daughter. Henri III., it appears, had lately brought pressure to bear upon the duchess to persuade her to break off the negotiations for the marriage, and, as the latter was beginning to feel seriously uneasy as to the future of her prospective son-in-law, she received him very coldly and endeavoured to evade giving the consent which he demanded. Perceiving how the land lay, Condé refrained from pressing the matter; and, after overwhelming her with protestations of friendship, took his departure, and despatched in all haste a courier to Taillebourg, with the following message, written on a leaf of his tablets:
“I have found Madame, your mother, whether from fear or otherwise, very much opposed to my happiness. I hope to conquer her severity by my perseverance and my conduct, swearing that you alone possess my heart, and that neither her prejudice nor any accident shall be able to prevent me from remaining until death your unchanging serviteur.”[109]
On 21 October, the prince arrived beneath the walls of Angers. He came too late, for, two days before, Rochemorte had been killed, and the citadel had capitulated. His wisest course would have been to retreat at once, for, although he had received reinforcements after crossing the Loire, his army did not exceed 3000 men, and hostile columns were already gathering in his rear. However, he determined to endeavour to carry the town by storm, and made two assaults, both of which were repulsed with considerable loss. Then, very reluctantly, he gave the order to retire; but there was some delay in carrying it out, and scarcely had his vanguard crossed the Loire, than the enemy’s cavalry appeared on both banks of the river. For a moment, he thought of endeavouring to make his way along the right bank of the Loire to the Huguenot stronghold of Sancerre, but, learning that the Catholics were in force in that direction, he abandoned it, and decided that the only course to adopt was for his followers to disperse and endeavour to creep through the meshes of the net which was closing round them. He himself, with a few officers, turned northwards, and succeeded in reaching Saint-Malo, where he embarked for Guernsey.
In that little island the unfortunate prince remained for more than two months. He was almost in despair, for he well knew that his folly, which had deprived the Huguenot forces of the West of their chief, many of their principal officers, and the greater part of their cavalry, must have ruined their operations in that part of the country, and compelled them to remain wholly on the defensive. Moreover, he saw no immediate prospect of being able to return to France, for, though he had applied for assistance to Elizabeth, that princess was unwilling at this juncture to offend the French Court, and he got nothing from her but expressions of sympathy. One day, however, in January, 1586, he perceived two ships-of-war flying the Rochellois ensign, approaching the island. They cast anchor; an officer landed, handed the delighted prince a letter from Mlle. de la Trémoille, and informed him that they had been sent to convey him to La Rochelle.
But let us see how Mlle. de la Trémoille had been faring during her lover’s enforced absence from France.