On Palm Sunday, April 4, Bassompierre had an audience of the new King at the Convent of San Geronimo.

On the Wednesday in Holy Week, Bassompierre and Du Fargis witnessed the Procession of the Crosses from the balcony of a house in the Calle Mayor, which had been reserved for them:

Bassompierre pronounces this spectacle “trÈs belle”; nevertheless, he soon appears to have had enough of it, and on being joined by the Ambassador of Lucca and two Spanish nobles, he rose, protesting that he could not remain seated and leave three such distinguished persons standing—for there were only two chairs on the balcony—but would resign his seat to one of them, leave M. du Fargis to represent France, and go and beg of a party of ladies whom he perceived below the favour of occupying one of their footstools. This he did, and the ladies were most kind and did him the honour to allow him to sit at their feet, and, we fear, paid more attention to his Excellency than to the procession. Nor was this all; for Fortune willed it that he should discover amongst them a flame of the days of his youth, a certain DoÑa AÑa de Sanasara, whom he had known twenty-five years before at Naples, and who was now the wife of the Secretary of the Council of Finance. “They recognised each other with joy,” and DoÑa AÑa, who was very rich, sent her old admirer handsome presents and invited him to her house, where she entertained him most sumptuously.

On the following day—Maundy Thursday—Bassompierre witnessed another procession, that of the Penitents, “in which there were more than two thousand men who belaboured themselves with whips.” Afterwards he went to hear the TenebrÆ at Nuestra SeÑora de Constantinopoli and spent the night in visiting different churches.

On Maundy Thursday and Good Friday Madrid was a city of mourning:

On Easter Monday, Bassompierre went to pay his respects to the new Queen at the Carmelite convent, where she was still in retreat. Her Majesty told him that all her ladies-in-waiting were longing to make his acquaintance—evidently, the fame of his successes amongst the fair had preceded him to Madrid—and that he ought to have compassion upon them and demand lugar[158] of every one of them. Bassompierre replied that, if he were to do that, it would occupy more time than he would require to conclude the affair of the Valtellina, and asked, as a favour, that he might be allowed to interview the whole posse of them at the same time, promising to do his best not to confound one lady with another. The Queen said that such a proceeding would not be in accordance with etiquette; but Bassompierre observed that whenever their Majesties granted favours they authorised some breach of etiquette, and that he did not see why they could not do so in this case. The Queen smiled and said that she would be quite willing, but that she dared not take so important a step without first consulting the King. However, she would speak to his Majesty, and inform him of the result.

A few days later, Bassompierre was informed that the King had been graciously pleased to consent that the rules of etiquette should be waived in his Excellency’s favour, for which his Excellency “rendered very humble thanks to the King.” Then he wrote to demand audience of all the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting, and, this having been accorded, proceeded to the Alcazar and was conducted to her Majesty’s ante-chamber, where he was presently joined by a bevy of fair and intensely curious ladies, in charge of a duenna, all eager to behold this redoubtable vainqueur de dames. And when they found that, in addition to his good looks and fascinating manners, he was able to pay them the most charming compliments in irreproachable Castilian, their delight knew no bounds, and it was more than two hours before they would allow him to depart.

On April 16, Bassompierre received a despatch from Louis XIII commissioning him to present his condolences to the new King on the death of his father. When, however, he informed Zuniga of this and inquired when Philip IV could give him audience to enable him to acquit himself of his new duty, that old gentleman shook his head and declared that it was quite contrary to the etiquette of the Spanish Court for an Ambassador Extraordinary charged with the duty of concluding a treaty to represent his sovereign in a different matter, unless he were to absent himself from the capital for some days and then make a second public entry. He therefore advised his Excellency to say nothing about the matter at present, but, on the conclusion of the treaty which he was then negotiating, to take leave of the King as though he were returning to France, and to go so far as Burgos on his homeward journey. From that town he would send a courier to Madrid to announce that, having on the way received a new commission from his sovereign, he was returning to discharge it; and, on his arrival, he would, of course, be received with the same ceremony as on the previous occasion.

Bassompierre, though greatly annoyed at these exasperating formalities, which would not only delay his return to France, but involve him in a great deal of unnecessary expense and inconvenience, had no alternative but to promise compliance. He succeeded, however, in obtaining the concession that his fictitious departure for France need not be preceded by fictitious farewells of anyone besides the King and the Royal family, and that, so long as he left the capital with his whole suite and remained away for two or three days, the Escorial might be the limit of his journey.

The death of Philip III was followed by a revolution of the palace almost as sweeping as that which had succeeded the assassination of Concini in France. The new King’s favourite, Olivares, who, with his uncle Don Balthazar de Zuniga, now assumed the direction of affairs, bore a bitter grudge against the Sandoval family, who, on more than one occasion, had endeavoured to get rid of him by assassination, and he proceeded to take vengeance both upon them and their creatures. The Duke of Uceda was arrested and thrown into prison, where, like the Duke of OssuÑa, he ended his days. His father, the Duke of Lerma, who, in obedience to the dying summons of Philip III, was hastening to Madrid, was met on the road by an officer of the Guards and informed that he was to return to Valladolid, on pain of immediate arrest; while, shortly afterwards, the greater part of his ill-gotten wealth

was confiscated, under a clause in the late King’s will by which he revoked the immense gifts he had made during his lifetime. The confessor Alliaga was deprived of his post of Grand Inquisitor and relegated to the obscurity of the monastery from which he had emerged; and several other highly-placed personages lost their charges and were banished from Court.

The Count of Saldagna,[159] Lerma’s younger son, thanks to his having had the good fortune to marry a daughter of the old Duke del Infantado,[160] who was held in general esteem, was more leniently dealt with than his father and elder brother, and was merely deprived of his office of cavalerizzo mayor (Grand Equerry) and ordered to go and fight the Dutch in the Netherlands. But, a day or two later, “one of the Queen’s maids-of-honour, DoÑa Mariana de Cordoba, presented to the King a promise of marriage which the Count of Saldagna had given her,[161] and the King commanded the said count to prepare to accomplish it.”

The royal command appears to have been accompanied by an intimation that, in the event of the count’s refusal to do the lady justice, most unpleasant things would happen to him. Anyway, Saldagna appears to have been greatly alarmed, and promised the King to lead DoÑa Mariana to the altar “on the first day after the octave of Easter” (April 21).

Now, when Bassompierre was setting out for Spain, Anne of Austria, who was much attached to the Sandoval family, “had pressingly recommended to him all that concerned the Duke of Lerma”; and, aware of this, Saldagna’s aunt the Countess of Lemos[162] and other relatives and friends of his, who were in despair at the prospect of his contracting a mÉsalliance, to which, in their opinion, death itself would almost be preferable, went to the ambassador and besought him, with tears in their eyes, “to aid in preventing this marriage by every means he was able to devise.” The recollection of his own troubles with Marie d’Entragues naturally inclined Bassompierre to view Saldagna’s with a sympathetic eye, and, apart from this, he had a decided weakness for meddling in other people’s affairs in a benevolent kind of way. He knew, too, that, by helping the Sandovals, he would establish a claim upon the gratitude of Anne of Austria, who, though she had little or no influence at present, might one day possess a great deal. He accordingly promised them to do what he could to deliver their relative from the sad fate which threatened him, and proceeded to San Geronimo—where Saldagna had gone into retreat on the plea of illness, to escape the remonstrances of his friends and the mocking felicitations of his enemies—with the resolution to screw that nobleman’s courage up to what Shakespeare calls the sticking-place, and then to propose to smuggle him out of Spain, disguised as one of his servants.

Not a little elated with his success, Bassompierre left him and returned to Madrid to finish the despatch which Saldagna’s supposed master was to carry that night to France. This task accomplished, he placed the thousand pistoles he had promised the count in two purses, summoned his equerry Le Manny, whom he had decided to send, told him of the distinguished personage who was to accompany him and gave him his instructions what to do in the event of their being stopped, though of that there was little or no danger, as he would indeed be a bold man who, without authorisation, would venture to detain the couriers of an Ambassador Extraordinary.

The fateful hour arrived, but no Saldagna. Instead, there came a message from that nobleman informing Bassompierre that, to his profound regret, he found himself unable to carry out what they had decided upon together, “for reasons which he would tell him when he had the happiness of seeing him.”

Anyway, espouse her he did on the day which he had promised the King. The marriage took place in the church of the Carmelite convent, where the Queen was still in retreat. The King led the bridegroom, and the Queen the bride, to the nuptial Mass, and then brought them with the same ceremony to the door of her Majesty’s ante-chamber. Here certain officers of the Court appeared upon the scene, took charge of bride and bridegroom, conducted them, “without even giving them time to dine,” to the gates of the town, where a travelling-carriage was in waiting, told them to step in and informed them that they were banished from Madrid.

Meantime, the negotiations on the Valtellina question, which had been interrupted by the death of Philip III, had been resumed. At first, the Spaniards suggested that if France would guarantee the protection of religion in the Valtellina, refuse to Venice the right of passage for her troops, and compensate Spain for the expense to which she had been put in occupying the country, she would withdraw. Bassompierre promptly declined. They then offered to waive the question of compensation, in return for the right of transit for Spanish troops, the very privilege which they had just endeavoured to deny to France’s old ally Venice. This proposition, as may be supposed, was likewise declined. It was impossible for the Spanish commissioners to persist in such demands, as the influence of Gregory XV, greatly alarmed by visions of Spain’s supremacy throughout Italy, had been thrown into the French scale. And so Zuniga proposed that the Grisons should receive compensation for the Valtellina, and the district be ceded to the Pope. Bassompierre curtly replied that he had been sent to Madrid to recover, not to sell, the Valtellina. Zuniga and his colleagues brought forward other schemes: that the Valtellina should be erected into a fourth League; that it should be constituted into a fourteenth canton of the Swiss Confederation, and so forth. But, finding that Bassompierre stood firmly by his instructions, they at length gave way, and on April 26, 1621, the Treaty of Madrid was signed.

This treaty stipulated that Spain should withdraw her troops from the Valtellina; that the Grisons should grant a general amnesty to the Valtellinas; that “the novelties prejudicial to the Catholic religion should be removed,” and that the Grisons should ratify the treaty, which was to be guaranteed by the King of France and the Swiss Cantons.

The Cabinet of Madrid hoped that, in the interval between the conclusion and the execution of the treaty, some incident might arise which would furnish them with a pretext for not keeping their word; and in this, as we shall see, they were not disappointed.

On April 28, Bassompierre, having taken leave of Philip IV, left Madrid, accompanied by his whole suite, as though he were returning to France. He spent the night at Torreladones, and on the following morning reached the Escorial, “where he saw everything in this wonderful building and all the rare things which it contained.” Early on the 30th, he left the Escorial and proceeded to El Pardo, a pleasure-house belonging to the King, where he dined, and then went on to Alcovendas. Here he passed the night, and on May 1, dressed in deep mourning, as became one who had been charged with an embassy of condolence, made his second ceremonious entry into Madrid.

On the 4th, he had an audience of the King to offer the pesame, and appeared, according to his own account, before the bereaved monarch “with a countenance which, apart from the absence of tears, presented every indication of grief and sadness.”[166] Afterwards, by Philip IV’s invitation, he accompanied him to the funeral service in honour of the late King at San Geronimo.

On the following day Bassompierre began to pay his farewell visits to the grandees and other important persons whose acquaintance he had made at Madrid, a task which was to occupy him several days, as there were so many to visit and so many formalities to be observed. His adieux were interrupted on May 9 by Philip IV’s solemn entry into Madrid, which he witnessed from a balcony at the Puerta Guadalaxara, which the King had ordered to be prepared for him:

In a despatch to Louis XIII, dated the following day, Bassompierre describes the entry as “very magnificent for Madrid, but not equal to the least of those which take place in France.”

On the 12th, Bassompierre had his farewell audience of the King, who gave him a letter in his own hand for Louis XIII and another for Anne of Austria. He then took leave of Don Carlos, and, on leaving the Alcazar, went to bid adieu to Olivares and Zuniga.

In the afternoon “the executors of the late King’s will placed in his hands a great reliquary, which must have been worth 500,000 crowns,” and charged him to present it to the Queen of France, to whom Philip IV had bequeathed it.

On the 15th—the day he was to leave Madrid—Don Juan de Serica came to present him, on behalf of Philip III, with “an ensign of diamonds worth 6,000 crowns.”[170] The Countess of Barajas sent him “a very beautiful present of perfumes,” and he begged the countess’s acceptance of a diamond chain worth 1,500 crowns. Shortly before his departure, he received another gift from the King, in the shape of a very fine horse from his Majesty’s stud.

In the afternoon he left Madrid, “the King ordering him to be escorted on his departure in the same fashion as when he had made his entry,” and was accompanied so far as Alcovendas, where he was to pass the night, by Du Fargis, the Prince of Eboli and a number of Spanish nobles. His journey to the frontier was uneventful, and on May 24 he reached Bayonne.