Source:
The court of Christina of Sweden and the later adventures of the Queen in exile, pages 10 to 17, by Francis Henry Gribble, 1913
The account:
Through the Thirty Years War, in a sense, blocks the way, no reader would thank the writer for digressing into a history of it. The Thirty Years War must, as far as possible, be taken for granted; though it will be better to interpose a word or two, indicating the European outlook and the position of Sweden among the Powers during Christina's early years.
The war, let us recall, then, was in its origin a German war and a religious war — a war between Protestant and Catholic Germany; a struggle between the central authority of the Empire and the independent claims of the vassal princes. Almost every other country in Europe became, by degrees, entangled in the contest: some of them joining in it on religious grounds; others for fear of the fate which might befall them if they stood aloof; others again in the hope of snatching advantage out of the confusion. All the little wars of Europe became, in consequence, confounded in a single war of a terribly devastating character.
It was a war which made a clean sweep of the national institutions of Germany and, in many districts, practically wiped out the population; the non-combatants perishing in hardly less numbers than the fighting men. If it had lasted but a very little longer, it would have thrown Europe back into that state of barbarism in which the Roman legions found it in the first year of the Christian era. A few typical figures brought together by Professor Gardiner may be cited to show the immensity of the ruin wrought —
"The losses of the civil population" (Professor Gardiner writes) "are almost incredible. In a certain district of Thuringia, which was probably better off than the greater part of Germany, there were, before the war-cloud burst, 1717 houses standing in 19 villages. In 1649 only 627 houses were left. And even of the houses which remained many were untenanted. The 1717 houses had been inhabited by 1773 families. Only 316 families could be found to occupy the 627 houses. Property fared still worse. In the same district 244 oxen alone remained of 1402. Of 4616 sheep not one was left. Two centuries later the losses thus suffered were scarcely recovered."
Nor was that the worst. If one passes from statistics to anecdotes, one is plunged into a abysm of horrors. The soldiers tortured the civilians in order to compel them to bring their hidden property to light. They burnt their houses and chased the fugitives like beasts of prey: those whom they caught they stuck up as targets to shoot at. One reads of starving dogs eating men, and of starving men eating dogs. One reads of corpses torn from their graves to be eaten; one reads even of cannibalism. In the forests of Franconia a regular band of man-hunters was established, — man-hunters who were ultimately caught in flagranti delicto, banqueting round a cauldron of boiling human flesh.
But enough of these horrors, picked at random from history appallingly rich in horrors. One cites them only to show what kind of a war it was that Christina worked to stop, without much help from her statesmen, and in defiance of the thunders of the clergy. For it is one of the ironies with which the history of religion abounds that, at a time when Europe was sick of its sufferings and bleeding well-nigh to death, that "voice of the churches" to which unthinking people in all ages look for guidance had no message except that the slaughter had better continue until all the heretics were slain. On the one hand, the Pope launched a Bull in favour of the prolongation of the atrocities, and on the other hand, the Lutheran pastors fulminated from their pulpits against the peace. Arcades ambo; and one cannot better introduce Christina, albeit one must anticipate to do so, than by relating how she dealt with one of her own intolerant clergymen. The story is in the Memoirs of Chanut, the French Ambassador to Stockholm —
"The pastor of one of the Stockholm churches" (Chanut writes) "denounced the peace furiously from his pulpit, on the ground that it had not secured liberty for the Lutheran religion in the Emperor's hereditary domains, and thundered against all Catholics, warning his congregation not to trust them in spite of the Treaty, but, on the contrary, to cherish in their hearts an undying hatred against people who spoke of them as heretics.
"The Queen, hearing of this, sent for the pastor and admonished him so sternly that he looked embarrassed and bewildered, and denied having used the words which four thousand people had heard him speak."
That at the age of twenty-two. It was worth while to anticipate in order that our first view of Christina might be so characteristic; but we must go back from the peace to the war in order to see how and why Sweden came into it in the reign of Christina's father, the great Gustavus Adolphus.
His motives, no doubt, like most human motives, were mixed. He had travelled through Germany in disguise and remarked the luxuriant beauty of the valley of the Rhine, — so much richer than the barren lands over which he ruled in the frozen North, — and the vision had tempted him. He had further remarked the wealth and arrogance of the Rhenish prelates, and that vision also had made its impression. "If these priests", he wrote (speaking in the assumed character of a Swedish nobleman), "were subject to the King, my master, he would long ago have taught them that modesty, humility, and obedience are the proper characteristics of their profession."
It was not too late, Gustavus Adolphus felt, to teach those prelates the lesson which they needed. Their pride, if left unchecked, might be a danger to him, for he held possessions on the Prussian side of the Baltic; the breaking of their pride might enable him to extend those possessions. Moreover, the extension of those possessions would mean the spread of Protestantism; and Gustavus Adolphus was as earnest a Protestant as Cromwell, to whom he has often been compared. So he made his plunge, and quickly proved himself as brilliant a soldier as Cromwell.
"We have got a new little enemy", said the Emperor Ferdinand scornfully when he heard that the Swedes were coming; but he had reason to change his tone when they came. The Swedish soldiers were a rabble to look upon; but they were commanded by a man of genius who was also an innovator in the art of war, possessed of improved cannon and improved muskets, and markedly the superior of his antagonists in mobility and in his power of maintaining discipline. He smashed Tilly and marched all over Germany, winning battle after battle, forbidding his men to plunder, and establishing liberty of conscience. "We will show our enemies", he said, "that we are honest men and honourable gentlemen."
It was a meteoric career, brilliant but brief. The end of it came, in 1632, when Gustavus Adolphus led his army against Wallenstein's entrenchments at Lützen, — a battle in which the religious character of the war was strongly emphasised. The day began with the singing of hymns in which the King himself joined lustily: "Our God is a strong tower", and "Fear not, little flock", and "Jesus, the Saviour, who was the conqueror of death". Then, in the interval between the issuing of the orders and the charge, the King knelt and prayed: "In God's name, Jesus, give us to-day to fight for the honour of Thy holy name." And then forward, — to victory, but also to death! A fog descended on the battlefield, and Gustavus Adolphus found himself alone in the midst of a squadron of the enemy's cuirassiers. He went down, shot first in the arm and then in the back. "Who are you?" they asked him. "I was the King of Sweden", he answered faintly; and then a cuirassier shot him through the head, and the fruits of the victory which he had gained were gathered in by Bernard of Weimar, who succeeded to the command.
That was when Christina was six; and the war had still a course of sixteen years to run, — a period, as already indicated, of ever-increasing anarchy and horror. There is no need for any further recitation of its vicissitudes, — such matters belong to history, and not to Christina's life. One must merely insist that the great deeds of Gustavus Adolphus gave Sweden a place in the European Concert very different from that which she holds to-day.
Sweden was then a Power, and one of the greatest of the Powers; for the Powers by which Sweden is now overshadowed had not yet found themselves and developed their potential strength. Germany, as well as Italy, was little more than a geographical expression, destined to wait many a long day for its unification. Russia had hardly begun to come into the comity of nations; and Poland, not yet partitioned, — was a thorn in the side of her neighbours. Even with her present extent of territory Sweden would have been more important then than now; and Swedish territory, as a fact, stretched a good deal farther then than now. There was an overseas Swedish Empire on the opposite side of the Baltic, where now are the coasts of Finland and Prussia.
So that Sweden counted almost equally with France and Spain, — a great deal of what now is Belgium being then the Spanish Netherlands; and that meant, of course, that Swedish statesmen, as well as Swedish soldiers, counted. Not only did Gustavus Adolphus, at his hour, dominate Europe almost as Napoleon was afterwards to dominate it. His Chancellor, Oxenstiern, thanks to his victories, could negotiate as an equal even with Cardinal Richelieu.
Such was the condition of things, in Europe and in Sweden, when Christina came to the throne, — being crowned in the year of the battle of Marston Moor. It was beginning to be the condition of things in the year of her birth, which was the second year of the reign of our own Charles I. That modicum of history is necessary to her biographer's setting of the stage. The stage set, he is free to go back and tell her story from the beginning.
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Above: Gustav II Adolf.
Above: Francis Henry Gribble.
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