Source:
Christina of Sweden, pages 45 to 49, by Ada Harrison, 1929
The biography:
She had already become a Roman Catholic in practice, but had desisted, perhaps for Sweden's sake, from making a public profession of faith. She appealed to the Pope, Alexander VII, to be allowed to continue as she was, but he, naturally wishing to have his prize declared to the world, refused to allow her in Papal territory until she should have made her profession public. The ceremony was fixed to take place at Innsbruck, and, having been a year at Brussels, she set off south.
Her travelling arrangements were characteristic. Her fortune, for a royal personage, was not great, she was a bad manager, and the shoe was already beginning to pinch. Yet for the journey she attached to herself and conveyed with her no less than two hundred persons, a retinue of many nationalities and innumerable varieties, all pushing southward in the amiable occupation of sponging on the queen. The number of women in the train was five.
The profession was made on October 26th, 1655, in the Cathedral at Innsbruck, before a brilliant company. From A Letter concerning the manner of the Queen of Sweden renouncing her religion and embracing the Popish: written by an eye-witness at Innsbruck in Tiroll, we learn that 'the Archduke of Tiroll resolved to give her an extraordinary entertainment. He sent letters to all the gentry and nobility in this country and to his friends in parts adjacent to wait upon him in their bravery at the court'. After the ceremony, 'there were trumpets and drums and loud musick very fine', and in the evening a comedy was played before the royal convert.
The comedy tempted one historian, Chevreau, to father a false witticism on to Christina. 'It is but reasonable', he reports her to have said, 'that they should entertain me with a comedy to-night when I have so highly entertained them with a farce this morning'. But this is slander. It would be a poor creature who could fail to be moved on the day of her conversion, and Christina, though worldly, was perfectly sincere in her adoption of the Roman Catholic faith. Nor was she fool enough to risk giving such dangerous offence. Her eyes at this moment were fixed upon Alexander and upon Rome, and the Pope, having won his point about her public avowal of faith, was acting irreproachably towards her. Lucas Holstenius, the legate sent to receive her into the church, was a converted Lutheran like herself, who should perfectly understand her feelings. The chief nuncio who met her at the boundary of the Papal states was likewise a convert; more, an accountant of the Apostolic Treasury was sent to 'supply money unsparingly and to settle all accounts'. The trumpets and loud music continued fortissimo all the way to Roma. From Ferrara and Bologna to Spoleto, Terni and Bracciano, every city on the queen's zig-zag route vied with its neighbours in offering masses, entertainments, triumphal arches and complimentary verses. The queen visited Assisi, vowed her crown and sceptre to the Virgin at Loreto, everywhere witnessed plays and spectacles, and at Rimini made a notable addition to her train in the persons of the brothers Santinelli. These two poor provincial gentlemen had been adopted on account of their dancing, not in itself a bad recommendation, but hardly one to fit them for the high positions to which the infatuated Christina later promoted them.
Four days before Christmas the queen was in the environs of Rome. From Innsbruck she had written to the Pope fully resolved to do her part. Out of compliment for him[,] she added the name Alessandra to her own; she was full of 'the glory of obeying your Holiness'. She was in tempestuous love with humility, and 'stripped of all greatness, together with her blood and life'[,] she offered to the Pope 'the blind obedience that is his due'. In this mood she hurried travel-stained and incognito to the Vatican, to fling herself at the Pope's feet.
Alexander met her more than half way. He received her with the utmost graciousness, raised her up immediately and had her sit at his right hand under the baldacchino on a velvet chair decorated with silver doves, designed by Bernini for this purpose. Finally, as the greatest concession in his power, he had her conducted after the interview to apartments in the Vatican itself, especially refurnished for the occasion. It was against all precedent, but the Belvedere, being just separate from the main Vatican, allowed of this exceptional courtesy being offered to the queen. For her regular use the Farnese Palace had been prepared and decorated with crimson and purple velvet, with green and scarlet damask and with new carpets and tapestries. To his compliments Alexander added the solid blessing of a pension of twelve thousand crowns.
The next day Christina made her formal entry into Rome. She came by the Ponte Molle, down the Via Flaminia, through the Flaminian gate redecorated with a Latin message of welcome from the Pope's pen, down the Corso and so across the river to St Peter's. The weather was terrible, but the occasion brilliant. The day had been declared a solemn festival, and the finest decorations were ordered out. Rome, adorned not with festoons of paper strips, but with brocade and damask and every brilliant stuff floating from the windows, was magnificent for the guest. The procession itself glowed with cardinals and princes, with uniforms and liveries, with coaches of silver and bridles of gold. It paused just outside the city at the Villa Giulia for the queen to receive the Pope's presents, a carriage with six horses, a litter with porters and a white horse superbly harnessed. She mounted the horse and rode on under the Porta Flaminia, a little figure in sober colours, wearing a grey skirt and bodice embroidered in gold, a black cloak, and a wide black hat with a gold cord. The flashing Roman ladies were presented to her. Their dresses did honour to the occasion, for we are told that one outfit cost 700,000 écus. They were, however, to learn at the outset how much Christina appreciated this kind of effort. She received them with a curt word, and drove immediately through the city to St Peter's, which was gorgeous in draperies from floor to ceiling and so thronged that there was hardly standing-room on the vast floor. Here she worshipped publicly, and the city was given over to festival. The whole occasion, when for the instant poetry, circumstance and principle were blended, was one of the pinnacles of her career. The next day Christina had a headache, but while she nursed it in the magnificent apartments of the Farnese Palace, she could reflect with satisfaction how a sovereign uncrowned was far more glorious than a sovereign enthroned. This was the end of the year 1655.
Above: Kristina.
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