The betrothal was solemnized on May 8th, which happened to be the Feast of the Ascension. The ceremony took place in the Louvre in the King's own room, which was elaborately fitted up for the occasion, and where, in the late afternoon, he appeared as (we are told) "a beautiful sun which shines above all others."[12] Lesser lights were present in the persons of his wife, his only brother Gaston, Duke of Orleans, and a crowd of noblemen, all of whom waited impatiently for the bride-elect, who at last appeared, attended by her mother and by Madame de Chevreuse. Henrietta entered the room with a dignity worthy of the occasion and of the great race from which she was sprung. Her magnificent dress, which perhaps a little eclipsed her girlish beauty, consisted of a robe of cloth of gold and silver thickly sprinkled with golden fleurs-de-lis and enriched by diamonds and other precious stones. This wonderful garment was further adorned by a long train carried by the little Mademoiselle de Bourbon, the Madame de Longueville of later days, who at this time was so young that she could only nominally fulfil her office, while the long, heavy folds were really supported by Madame de Montglas' daughter, Madame S. Georges, who was to accompany the young Queen to England.
Henrietta's entry was followed by that of the two English Ambassadors and the proxy bridegroom. Then, after the signing and countersigning of the articles of marriage, the betrothal ceremony was solemnized according to the rites of the Church by Cardinal de Rochefoucault, Grand Almoner of the King of France. In the evening a ball was held in the Louvre, while outside the firing of cannon and the letting off of fireworks testified to the public rejoicing.
It was not until three days later, on May 11th, that the actual wedding took place. [13] The church chosen for the religious ceremony was the Cathedral of Notre-Dame, which was adorned with hangings of silk and tapestry and of cloth of gold, to hide as far as possible the lines of the Gothic architecture which was condemned by the taste of the day. Every detail of the ceremony[14] was arranged when an unfortunate difficulty arose which caused much ill-feeling and considerable trouble.
Jean François de Gondi, a member of one of those Italian families which had found fortune in France in the wake of a foreign Queen, now occupied the See of Paris. He was the first of the long line of bishops of the capital to receive the honours of archiepiscopal rank, and, as his character, which has been sketched for us by his candid nephew, Cardinal de Retz, was at once feeble and vainglorious, it is probable that his head was a little turned. His anger, therefore, may be imagined when he discovered that he was not to officiate at a wedding which took place at his own cathedral, but was to be set aside for the Cardinal de Rochefoucault. Mingled with personal pique was the bitter feeling of the infringement of the rights of the episcopate. He summoned all the prelates who were then in Paris to a meeting, and they joined with him in presenting a petition on the subject to the King. But Louis and the Cardinal (who had provided himself with a brief from the Pope which, however, was not produced) stood firm; and the upshot of the affair was that the Archbishop, though he was forced to give way and was much blamed by his clergy for doing so, was nevertheless so angry that he went off to the country, refusing to have anything to do with the wedding, and leaving the nuptial mass to be said by his senior suffragan, the Bishop of Chartres.
But this was not the worst. The absence of the Archbishop might have been supported with philosophy, but the strike extended not only to the Chapter, but even to such indispensable people as the singing-men, who, at the last moment, had to be hurriedly replaced by singers from the King's cabinet and chapel.
The English alliance was very popular in Paris. It was remembered that if the bridegroom was King of England and a heretic, he was also a Scotchman born and the grandson of the much-loved Mary of Scotland, who, it was said, was doubtless praying in heaven for his conversion. Another side of the general satisfaction was expressed by poetic references to the union of the sister of Mars with Neptune, the King of the Waves, which, it was hoped, would bring about a happy state of things when
"toute la Terre
Soit aux François et Anglois."[15]
It is not surprising, therefore, that the early hours of the great day saw the parvis of Notre-Dame crowded with spectators waiting patiently under the rain of an inclement May morning. The concourse was so great that the neighbouring streets had to be secured by barriers and patrolled by the Swiss Guard to make free passage for the coaches of the nobility which were perpetually arriving at the doors of the cathedral to deposit their loads of gaily dressed ladies.
Meanwhile, what of the bride for whom all this was prepared? She had spent the previous day at her mother's favourite convent, that of the Carmelite nuns whom Bérulle had "fetched out of Spain" to place in a house of the Faubourg S. Jacques. There her mother's friend, Mother Magdeleine of S. Joseph, gave her a great deal of advice, seasoned with much piety and some judgment. Thence she returned to pass the night at the Louvre, and to spend a quiet morning, until at about two o'clock on the afternoon of her wedding-day she set out for the Archbishop's palace, which that dignitary, in spite of his chagrin, had placed at the disposal of the wedding-party. There in the fine old house overlooking the Seine, which two hundred years later was to fall a victim to the fury of the Parisian mob,[16] Henrietta spent several hours in putting on the same magnificent dress which she had worn at her betrothal, so that five o'clock had already struck when her brother the King came to fetch her that he might conduct her to the cathedral.