Source:
Christina of Sweden, pages 66 to 69, by Ada Harrison, 1929
The biography:
Christina now began one of her periodical flights across Europe. She paused as usual at Hamburg, where she was entertained by her banker Texeira, a Portuguese Jew; and then[,] despite the efforts of her countrymen to keep her out, she entered Sweden. The delicate situation of the homecoming was handled awkwardly by both sides. The Swedes, on their own ground, were apprehensive and fidgety; Christina, the guest and petitioner, insisted loudly on her rights and dues. The most perfect tact would hardly have made the visit successful. As it was, it turned out a painful and ignominious failure. She was met and entertained as soon as she crossed the Swedish borders, but the object of her hosts was in reality to turn her back. Oxenstiern was dead. Some remained who reverenced her father's name and hers, but it was an anxious moment for Sweden, and the former queen was too wild and incalculable a creature to be openly welcomed. She at once offended Swedish public opinion by her practice of the Roman Catholic religion, and then played directly into the enemy's hands by suggesting that the crown should revert to her in default of male heirs. It was a move of gratuitous stupidity, seeing that she had definitely and absolutely renounced the throne on her abdication. It was a move also of quite unsurpassed tactlessness, as the King was a delicate child of five, and the default of male heirs was a probable contingency which anxiously occupied his ministers.
On her visit Christina encountered Magnus de la Gardie in power. He had forgotten nothing, and worked hard and successfully to injure her cause. Now the queen was down[,] there was no lack of enthusiasts to keep her down. The Bishop of Abo even went as far as to declare that she repented of changing her faith. The slander infuriated Christina, but she got no redress against it. In the end the Senate got rid of her by promising money, for which she was always obliged to beg at the end of her imperious and fulminating letters. It was a situation in which any but Christina must have lost her dignity. She retained hers through the sublime unconsciousness that she could ever part with it. This is a typical glimpse of her. Her case demands our pity, but she refuses it, and instead wins our grudging admiration as she is thrust out of Sweden, still holding up, with imperishable gallantry, the banner of her self-esteem.
In 1661 Christina was back in Hamburg, trying to raise money and prying into Hamburger affairs, and in the same year [sic] she returned to Rome. At this moment, Naples having faded, and the Near East having faded, she had nothing except her private affairs to occupy her mind. Fortunately an incident occurred in Rome itself to fill the gap. This was a breach between the King of France and the Pope. Crequi, Ambassador of Louis XIV, was badly insulted by the Pope's Swiss guard. He appealed for redress, but none was forthcoming. Louis, angry at the affront to himself, pressed the claim, which was still denied, and a complete break ensued.
Christina saw that this was the moment for a tactful woman to intervene. She was not exactly the chosen meditator between Louis XIV, who had practically turned her out of France, and Alexander VII, who would have been glad to turn her out of Rome; but her zeal had been fatally aroused, and she could not be stayed. She decided that the temporal power had better bow, and began an earnest and unsolicited correspondence with the King of France to that effect. She even sent her secretary Alibert to Paris, an attention not much appreciated by Louis XIV. 'I know that it is just that persons of your station should not restrain themselves', he replied in a long-suffering fashion in answer to one of her letters, adding that he would always be glad to receive tokens of her affection, and 'in the event of other interests being dearer to you than mine, I shall only complain of my misfortune.' But when Christina, with the superfine reasonableness which she preserved for other people's affairs, continued to urge him to 'pass the sponge' over the memory of his affronts, even his urbanity failed a little. 'Had your Majesty received some ill-treatment ... I am certain that you would have too much spirit and love of glory to follow the advice you give me and pass the sponge over this disagreeable picture.'
Christina toiled on, but no conciliation with the Pope was promoted. Instead, she herself wearied Louis XIV into cutting off relations with her, and for three years she remained estranged from a sovereign to whom she was attached.
Above: Kristina.
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