Further expostulation was impossible, and Bassompierre saw himself compelled to drain even to the very dregs his cup of mortification. The ceremony took place in the gallery of the Louvre with almost fabulous pomp. Mademoiselle de Montmorency was attended by all the Princesses of the Blood, and took her place immediately beside the Queen, while the Prince stood upon the right hand of the King; who, being still feeble, with a refinement of cruelty which it is equally difficult to explain and to justify, selected Bassompierre upon whom to lean, and thus kept him throughout the whole of the ceremonial in the immediate vicinity of the affianced pair.
A few days after the ceremony a ballet was danced at the Arsenal in honour of the event, at which their Majesties and all the Court were present; and on Shrove Tuesday a tilting at the ring took place, where Mademoiselle de Montmorency delivered the prize to the victor. The Queen, who had remarked with apprehension the growing passion of her royal consort for the young Princess, was overjoyed at the contemplated marriage, believing as she did that she must have been self-deluded, as it was beyond credibility that, had she been correct in her surmises, Henry would have sought to unite the object of his preference to his own nephew. Thus, therefore, she overwhelmed the bride-elect with the most condescending kindness, and even arranged a ballet in her honour in which she herself appeared. "It was," says Bassompierre, "at once the most beautiful and the last in which she ever danced." [400]
On Tuesday the 10th of March the marriage took place at Chantilly in the presence of their Majesties and the whole Court; and if the cheek of the bride were pale, and the lip of the gallant Bassompierre trembled, during the ceremony which made Charlotte de Montmorency the wife of another, all the other actors in the brilliant drama were too fully occupied with their respective parts to heed the silent emotion of the sufferers. The King presented as his offering to the lady two thousand crowns for the purchase of her trousseau, and jewels of the value of eighteen thousand livres; while he gave to the Prince a large amount both in plate and money.[401] The Queen was also profuse in her generosity, and several days were spent in the most splendid festivities, after which the royal party returned to Paris, whither they were shortly followed by the Prince and Princesse de Condé, on whose arrival a grand ball was given by the ex-Queen Marguerite, where Henry was once more enthralled by the exquisite dancing of the graceful bride, and so unequivocally betrayed his admiration as to renew all the slumbering apprehensions of the unfortunate Queen.
It was soon evident, however, that M. de Condé was by no means prepared to lend-himself to the licentious views of the King, and he maintained so strict a guard over his beautiful young wife that neither sarcasm nor reproach could induce him to relax his vigilance. This opposition only served to aggravate the unhappy passion of the monarch, while the indignation of the Prince and the anger of the Queen were, although from a different motive, similarly excited; and in the month of July, during the festivities which took place on the marriage of the Duc de Vendôme with Mademoiselle de Mercoeur, the advances of the monarch to the wife of his nephew became so undisguised that the latter openly resented so great an insult to his honour; a crime for which he was immediately punished by the revocation of all the grants made to him on the occasion of his marriage, and he was thus reduced to comparative poverty.[402] This extreme and wanton severity produced a diametrically opposite effect to that which had been anticipated by the King, the Prince instantly feeling that he had been wronged as well as insulted; while the Queen, alarmed by the evident progress of this new and fatal passion, which must, should it ultimately prove successful, overwhelm the monarch with disgrace and remorse from the near consanguinity of the parties, did not fail to urge upon M. de Condé in the most energetic manner the necessity of preserving alike his own honour and that of the King by removing his wife from the Court. This advice found support on all sides, as those who made it a matter of conscience trembled at the idea of the scandal which must ensue; while others, who merely sought to annoy the sovereign without any regard for his reputation, still saw their purpose answered by the proposed departure of the Princess.
Difficult as it was for the Prince to consent to a separation from his beautiful young bride, the perseverance of Henry soon convinced him that he had no other alternative, and he accordingly caused her to quit the capital, and to take up her temporary abode at Saint-Valery; but the remonstrances of the monarch were so earnest, and he succeeded so thoroughly in concealing his indignation against M. de Condé personally, that for a time he flattered himself that he should be enabled to effect her recall. Upon this point, however, the Prince was firm; and as day after day went by without eliciting the obedience which he had anticipated, the entreaties of the King were exchanged for threats. Nor did Henry rest satisfied even with this show of displeasure towards his young kinsman, for, resolved to ascertain if he should not be more favourably received by the Princess herself, he assumed a disguise, and proceeded with a few attendants to the place of her retreat in order to obtain an interview. On ascertaining this fact M. de Condé removed her to Muret, but the pursuit of the King was so resolute that the harassed bridegroom ultimately found himself compelled to choose between his ruin and his dishonour.[403]
His first measure was to change the residence of the Princess from Saint-Valery to his château at Breteuil, and to expostulate with her upon the encouragement which she gave by her levity to the advances of the monarch; but as some time passed without any further cause for alarm, the Prince at length began to feel greater confidence, and in the month of November joined a hunting expedition which compelled him to absent himself from his wife, a circumstance that was forthwith communicated to Henry, who immediately assumed a second disguise and proceeded to Breteuil. M. de Condé had, however, been careful to establish a strict watch over his household, and being apprised in his turn of the royal visit, he suddenly returned, and the disappointed monarch was compelled to leave the château.
Madame de Verneuil, to whom the adventure was soon made known, and who, despite the extreme precariousness of her position, never failed to revenge herself upon the King whenever an opportunity presented itself, related the whole story in his presence during a Court reception, only suppressing the name of the adventurous lover; an indiscretion which so offended and alarmed the Prince that he determined to emancipate himself from the threatened disgrace.[404]
He felt that he had but one alternative, for he was too high-spirited to condescend to disgrace, whatever might be the penalty of his resistance; and driven at length to an expedient which wounded his pride, but which he found it impossible to reject, he affected to be determined by the anger of the monarch, and requested permission to go in person to conduct the Princess back to Court. This was instantly and joyfully conceded, and M. de Condé no sooner found himself free to act than he set forth; but, instead of returning to Paris as Henry had anxiously anticipated, he took the precaution to have relays of post-horses secretly secured all along the road to the Low Countries.[405]
On his arrival at Muret the Prince lost not a moment in causing the Princess to enter a carriage drawn by eight horses which he had provided for the purpose, and at once proceeded to Flanders by way of Artois. The dread of dishonour, coupled with the fear of arrest upon the road, lent wings to his speed; and without once alighting the Prince and his fair companion reached Landrecies;[406] the entire suite of the first Prince and Princess of the Blood comprising on this occasion only Messieurs de Rochefort and de Tournay, and Mademoiselle de Certeau, with a valet and a femme-de-chambre, who followed on horseback.
The news of their flight reached Fontainebleau on the following evening, while the Queen was still convalescent (having given birth to her third and last daughter, Henriette Marie, on the 26th of November), and the King was endeavouring to employ the interval which must ensue before the arrival of the Princess by pursuing with renewed ardour his favourite pastime. Pimentello, the hated of Sully, had returned to Court, and the play was consequently "fast and furious." It was in the very height of this maddening excitement, when he was surrounded by piles of gold, and devotees as earnest as himself at the same shrine discreetly assembled in his private closet, that Henry, whose spirits were exalted by his hopes, and who was risking sum after sum with a recklessness which would have taken away the breath of his finance minister, received from M. d'Elbène,[407] and subsequently from his lieutenant of police, the important and mortifying intelligence that his destined prey had escaped him. The agitation which the King exhibited when convinced of the truth of this report exceeded any that he had hitherto evinced even upon the most important occasions, and hastily rising from the table, he murmured in the ear of Bassompierre who was seated next to him, "Ah! my friend, I am lost. The man has taken his wife into the depths of a forest. I know not if it be to escape with her from France, or to put her to death. Take care of my money, and keep up the play until I have procured more certain and detailed information." [408]