On his arrival in Brussels, Condé expressed himself willing to return, if guaranteed a place of surety in his government of Guienne; but Henri IV. refused even to consider such a proposal, and insisted on an immediate and unconditional return, promising him only a free pardon. At the instance of Spinola, who had rapidly acquired considerable influence over him, Condé thereupon decided to appeal to the King of Spain for protection. The Council of State at Madrid was unanimously of opinion that the request should be acceded to; and Philip III. accordingly charged his ambassador at the French Court, Don Inigo de Cardenas, to inform Henri IV. that he had taken the Prince de Condé under his protection, “with the object of acting as a mediator in the matter and contributing everything in his power towards the repose and happiness of the Very Christian King.” The remainder of the despatch, however, leaves no doubt that his Catholic Majesty was animated by very different sentiments towards Henri IV. from those which Don Inigo was instructed to express.[160] At the same time, Philip wrote to Condé to assure him of his sympathy, and despatched one of his Council, the Count Anôvar, to Brussels, with instructions to watch over the interests of the prince, who, on his side, engaged to make no terms with Henri IV. without the consent of Spain.
HENRY II DE BOURBON, PRINCE DE CONDÉ
FROM AN ENGRAVING BY MATHONIER
Meanwhile, the Connétable de Montmorency, either because he really believed the reports which were being industriously circulated by French agents in Brussels that Condé was ill-treating his wife, or, more probably, out of dishonourable servility to the King, had intervened in the affair, and despatched to Flanders one of his relatives, Louis de Montmorency-Boutteville, father of the unfortunate gentleman whose execution for duelling caused such a painful sensation seventeen years later. Boutteville was the bearer of a letter to the Archdukes, in which the Constable complained bitterly of the alleged sufferings of his daughter, and besought their Highnesses to restore his beloved child to him. His request was refused, and the reports as to Condé’s ill-treatment of his wife would appear to have been altogether devoid of foundation. Nevertheless, the young princess, who had little love for her husband and naturally resented the strict surveillance to which she was subjected, was becoming more and more dissatisfied with her life at Brussels. If she had done nothing to encourage the advances of Henri IV., she had certainly not been insensible to the homage of so great a monarch, and many years later was wont to recall it with pride and emotion. Moreover, intrigues of all kinds were at work to further the King’s odious designs. The wife of the French Ambassador at Brussels, Brulart de Berny, visited Madame la Princesse constantly and enlarged on the glories of which she was deprived by her husband’s jealousy; two of her waiting-women had been bribed and added their persuasions to those of the Ambassadress; while Girard, a secretary of the Constable, was continually travelling to and fro between Paris, Chantilly, and Brussels, bearing letters and instructions.
Towards the end of January, Henry IV. despatched an envoy extraordinary to Brussels, in the person of Annibal d’Estrées, Marquis de Cœuvres, brother of the beautiful and ill-fated Gabrielle. Cœuvres very speedily perceived that there was small likelihood of being able to persuade the Archdukes to surrender the princess to her relatives, or rather to the King, and, on 9 February, wrote to his Majesty to obtain his consent to a plan which he had formed for the abduction of the young lady. Henri immediately sent the required authorization, but, unfortunately for the success of the enterprise, the mere prospect of once more beholding the object of his passion transported him to such a degree that he was quite unable to conceal his joyous anticipations, either from his entourage or even from his long-suffering consort. The jealous Queen took advantage of this indiscretion to acquaint the Nuncio Ubaldini, a devoted friend of the Medici family, with what was in the wind; the Nuncio, in his turn, communicated the news to the Spanish Ambassador, who lost no time in sending a courier to Brussels to put Spinola on his guard.
Spinola, fearing lest Condé, if informed of the proposed abduction of his wife, might create a scandal, contented himself with arousing his suspicions sufficiently to induce him to beg the Archdukes to receive the princess into their own palace. To this their Highnesses readily consented, and 14 February was fixed for the departure of Madame la Princesse and her attendants from the Hôtel de Nassau.
Cœuvres was naturally much disconcerted on learning of this change of residence, and recognizing that, were the lady once within the walls of the archducal palace, any such measures as he was contemplating would be foredoomed to failure, determined to make his attempt on the night of the 13th.
His plan was a bold one. The Princesse de Condé’s apartments abutted on the garden of the Hôtel de Nassau, which was separated from the ramparts only by a narrow street. Under cover of the confusion and bustle which the preparations for her removal on the morrow would be sure to entail, she was to descend, or be carried into the garden, pass through it, and gain the street. A breach sufficient to admit of her egress was to be made in the ramparts, and on the far side of the moat, which was empty at this time, a body of horse, under the command of Longueval de Manicamp, governor of La Fère, would be waiting to escort her to the frontier, while another troop would cover their flight. Some difference of opinion seems to exist as to whether the lady herself was privy to this scheme; but the fact that one of her waiting-women had carried that afternoon to the French Embassy a quantity of her mistress’s clothes would certainly seem to point to her complicity.
It was only a few hours before the moment fixed for the execution of Cœuvres’s design that Spinola learned of his intention, through the treachery of a French adventurer in the marquis’s pay. This time he felt obliged to inform Condé, who hastened to the Archdukes to demand a guard, after which, beside himself with anger and excitement, he hurried hither and thither, calling upon every one he met to assist him to protect his wife. Soon the Hôtel de Nassau was surrounded by soldiers, reinforced by five hundred armed citizens, whom the Prince of Orange had procured from the Burgomaster, while cavalry, preceded by torch-bearers, patrolled the neighbouring streets. These warlike preparations brought almost the whole city to the spot, and “bred one of the greatest tumults ever known in Brussels; and it was commonly reported and believed that the King of France was himself in person at the gates to carry away the princess by force.”[161]