Source:
The Sibyl of the North: The Tale of Christina, Queen of Sweden, pages 78 to 92, by Faith Compton Mackenzie, 1931
The account:
CHAPTER V
THE ORDER OF AMARANTA
"DOLCE NELLA MEMORIA" was the motto engraved on the Order of Amaranta which Christina founded in 1653. There were thirty members, fifteen ladies and fifteen knights, with the Queen at the head of them all. There is no list of membership, but among the knights and ladies were the King of Poland, Charles Gustavus and his brother Adolphus, the Landgrave of Hesse, a few German Princes, the de la Gardie family, Count Dohna and Count Tott, both devoted to Christina, and the latter a special favourite of hers, "a civil, handsome young courtier, of good parts and much of the French mode", says Whitelock.
History does not say who were the ladies chosen by Christina, but no doubt they were amusing and handsome, and certainly Ebba Sparre was among them. Unwillingly Christina had consented to the marriage of Ebba. She was now the wife of Jacob de la Gardie, and known as the beautiful Countess. Among the Knights of the Order were Count Montecuculi from the Court of Austria, and Don Antonio de la Cueva from the Court of Spain, both of whom accompanied Christina on her travels later on. A striking pair were Count Corfiz Ulfeld from Denmark and Radzieiowski, late Chancellor of Poland. These were refugees from their own countries. Count Ulfeld had married Leonora Christina, one of the left-handed daughters of his King, Christian IV, hero of the battle of Kolberger Heide, and had been Grand Master of the Danish Court, and undisputed leader of the Danish aristocracy with his gifted wife, till the death of Christian, whom Sophie Amalie, the jealous, ambitious consort of his successor, Frederick III, plotted so effectively against that they were obliged to flee the country, the Princess disguised as a page. This heroic lady spent twenty-two years in prison after her husband's death, the victim of persecution by his enemies and of the bitter animosity of Sophie Amalie. Christina took the interesting couple under her protection, at the same time that Radzieiowski, finding Poland too hot for him, had picked on Sweden as his safest refuge.
Both men were daring and imaginative intriguers, and Christina spent a great deal more time than her Ministers liked in their company; it was said bitterly that she divided her attentions between them and Antonio Pimentelli. Certainly the refugees were both trying to persuade her to go to war with their respective countries for motives of their own, and certainly Christina enjoyed the piquancy of the situation, especially when she found them also intriguing against each other, Radzieiowski having betrayed to Denmark Ulfeld's designs, in order at least to delay things in that quarter, while his own plans were maturing. Apart from this both were men of wit and understanding, Ulfeld being especially notable for his profound knowledge of statecraft and his "facetious conversation", says Whitelock.
The Order of Amaranta was inaugurated with a splendid ballet called "The Feast of the Gods", followed by supper. The gods, it should be noted, were chiefly foreigners. Pimentelli was a glorious Mars, Ulfeld was Jupiter, and Radzieiowski set the pace of the party by being pushed in on a barrel as Bacchus, drinking out of a huge tankard. Magnus de la Gardie, whose banishment at this time was only a small cloud on the horizon, was Apollo to the life. Christina herself, as Amaranta, the Immortal One, wore a magnificent gown covered with diamonds. The rest of the courtiers were shepherds and shepherdesses and waited on the gods. A song, with "Vive Amaranta" as its refrain, was sung at intervals throughout the banquet. Then followed brawls and French dancing, in which Christina was always the most spirited lady present, and, half-way through the evening, she ordered everyone to cast aside his disguise, whether of god or mortal. She herself made her attendants cut the diamonds from her Amaranta gown before she disrobed. These she distributed among her guests. But to Antonio Pimentelli she gave a wonderful diamond ring.
They danced till five in the morning, and it was the success of this gallant evening that encouraged Christina to found the order. The motto for these knights and ladies was to be Semper idem. They swore to follow Virtue and Honour. They also swore, if unmarried, to remain so. Semper idem! The Order had a short life, so perhaps the vow was kept.
The insignia which Christina designed was costly and gorgeous. It was of gold thickly set with diamonds, the device a laurel wreath with two "A's" entwined in the centre. It was attached with a bright red taffeta scarf fringed with silver, tied round the left shoulder. The ladies wore it under the left breast, tied also with crimson taffeta. There was some delay in the distribution of this decoration, but Christina wore hers almost incessantly from the first moment. There were many theories as to the significance of the entwined "A's". The simplest is that they represented the first and last letters of Amaranta, but the double coincidence of the town of Amaranta being the birthplace of Pimentelli and his Christian name being Antonio was too much for the gossips to resist. The Don was now nearly as indispensable to the Queen as Bourdelot had been, and in spite of his superior estate, he became equally unpopular. Christina yielded more easily to the urgency of her advisers than in the case of the doctor, and the Spaniard was given his congé. At his last audience he was pale and speechless — another bit of play-acting in the opinion of those present.
He sailed from Gothenburg, and after two or three days of tempest his vessel was obliged to put about and return to port. Pimentelli did not wait for a favourable wind, but regarding the storm as an act of God, he posted back to the Court as fast as possible, where Christina received him with unfeigned delight. He was now established more firmly than ever, and when the Court moved to Upsala on account of plague in Stockholm, he was lodged in apartments so close to the Queen's that when his carriage was waiting for him, the horses attached to it were in front of her grand staircase.
The Castle at Upsala, built of plastered brick on the top of a hill, looked down on the Cathedral City and a fair countryside, with the river Sale running at the foot of the hill and emptying itself into a lake. The old Upsala, about two miles north of the present city, was famous early in history for its magnificent temple to Thor, Odin and Frey. On this site was built the first Christian cathedral in 1100. It was destroyed by fire. The archiepiscopal see was moved to the present Upsala, and another cathedral built. The city became a great episcopal capital, where kings were crowned. Gustavus Vasa founded the Castle in 1548, but it was never really finished. In Christina's time only two sides of the four-square building were completed, but it was of noble design and full of spacious apartments. The Queen's garden was a wretched, neglected place of four or five acres surrounded by post and rails, with nothing but a few hedges which began to get green after the thaw in May, no trees and few flowers but ordinary tulips. The climate did not encourage the planting of fruit trees or shrubs.
In 1567 the Castle had been the scene of a horrible outrage when the demented Eric XIV had three members of the great Sture family and two other noblemen put brutally to death on the pretext that they were traitors. This strange Prince, described as very handsome, marvellously accomplished and speaking many languages, amateur of music and mathematician, was the son of Gustavus by his first wife, Catherine of Saxe Lauenberg [sic], and was therefore a great-uncle of Christina's. There were a good many points in common between them. That murder at the Castle — something of the same callousness was seen at Fontainebleau — years later.
But here was the Court, established at Upsala, awaiting with some excitement the arrival of Bulstrode Whitelock, Ambassador from the Commonwealth of England. It was winter-time, and in the cold, short days few people stirred out if they could help it. But when the sun shone and the bitter Baltic wind was still, the streets were jingling with sleigh-bells.
On some glittering frosty day Christina would flash by in her little sled, drawn by a big trotting horse gaily plumed and covered with silver bells, one of her gallants standing behind her and holding the reins. A dozen or so of her ladies would come jingling after her, each with her gallant, all in gay [festive] attire, their plumes flying, the brightly painted little sleds skimming along the white ground — bells and laughter and bright colours.
Magnus de la Gardie plunged himself deeper into disgrace with Christina at this time by another ridiculous plot to retrieve his position, involving the Queen's Equerry Steinbergh, whom he accused of having made mischief. He might have known that Christina would sift this calumny to the bottom, and it was soon proved that Steinbergh was quite innocent, but naturally sufficiently annoyed to take the matter further, and, on his demanding of de la Gardie from whom he had the slander, the latter, after much hesitation, declared that Schlippenberg [sic], the Grand Seneschal at Stockholm, was responsible. Worse and worse! The Queen summoned all three men to appear before her, with the result that de la Gardie was completely discredited. Later in the day he sent to Christina asking to be allowed to retire to his country seat, begging her to deny Schlippenberg [sic] the Court, and to avoid speaking of the affair to his own disadvantage.
Christina haughtily replied that she not only allowed him, but ordered him to leave town, to go where he chose so long as it was not to her Court; that she could not think of using Schlippenberg as he suggested, and as to the third demand — she could feel for him nothing but pity for his self-inflicted misfortune. Even yet Magnus approached her again; this time with a letter. As she read it, she murmured several times "Poor Count!" and sent him a long reply, some of which is worth quoting:
"SIR, — As you wish to see me again after your disgrace, I must tell you how opposed this wish is to your advantage, and I write this letter to remind you of the reasons which prevent me from acceeding to it, and to convince you, too, that the interview is useless to your peace of mind. It is not for me to bring remedies for your misfortunes; it is to yourself you must look to repair your honour. What can I do except pity and blame you? The friendship I had for you compels me to do both; and however much I may have indulged you in the past, I cannot, with any sincerity, pardon you the crime you have committed against yourself. Do not imagine that I am angry with you — I assure you I am not. I can now do nothing but pity you, which can do you no good, since you have shown yourself indifferent to my friendship. You are unworthy by your own confession, and you have yourself pronounced the decree of your banishment in the sight of several persons of rank who were present. I have confirmed this decree because I found it just, and I am not ready to undo it, as you seem to suppose. After what you have done and suffered, do you dare to show yourself to me? I am ashamed to think of the many base actions you have stooped to. ... In this unfortunate affair, no spark of magnanimity or generosity has appeared in your conduct. Were I capable of repentance[,] I should regret ever having made a friendship with so feeble a soul as yours; but this weakness is unworthy of me, and, having always acted as reason dictated on my own impulse[,] I ought not to blame the veil I have thrown over the course of events. I would have preserved this all my life had not your imprudence compelled me to declare myself against you. Honour compels me to do it openly, and justice forces it upon me. I have done too much for you these nine years, in always blindly taking your part against all. But now that you abandon your dearest interests, I am released from all further care of them. You have yourself betrayed a secret which I had resolved to keep all my life, by showing that you were unworthy of the fortune I built up for you. If you are determined to hear my reproaches you can come to me; I consent on this condition. But do not hope that tears or entreaties will ever force me to yield a hair's breadth. The only favour I can do for you is to remember you little and speak of you less; being determined never to mention you except to blame you. ... Remember that you are yourself to blame for what has occurred to your disgrace, and that I am just towards you as I always will be for all the world.
CHRISTINA.
UPSALA,
December 5, 1653."
The phrase about the betrayed secret has been interpreted by some as referring to the private relations between Christina and her favourite. It seems more likely to imply simply the secret of his unworthiness of which she had always been conscious, and had tried to conceal from the world, but which was now too clearly displayed, to his undoing and her own humiliation. There were no secrets otherwise that he was likely to have betrayed. The world considered him her lover — no doubt he boasted of being so — the mystery of their relationship was never revealed.
Magnus, amazingly, still held on, even after that crushing letter, and pleaded through every channel he could find for reinstalment [sic] in her good graces. He even approached his old enemy the Chancellor, Oxenstierna, whereupon the Chancellor, with grim humour, sent the retort, that "he doted, being already in his second childhood, and no longer capable of giving counsel", a quotation from de la Gardie himself. Nothing moved Christina. Her mind[,] once made up[,] was hard to alter, and Magnus retired from the contest, a bitter enemy, awaiting his time to strike.
The sober Whitelock set out with his embassy from London on the Lord's Day, November 6, 1653. The Phœnix, the Adventurer, the Elizabeth, the Fortune, a State "Catch" and a private man-o'-war commanded by a bold fighting seaman, Captain Welsh, attended the Hope, which conveyed Whitelock, two of his sons and some of his suite. The Adventurer had over thirty horses on board. At the Nore, in the mouth of the Thames, the convoy was held up by contrary winds, and Whitelock had the satisfaction of hearing the news, carried in haste by wherrymen, that his dear third wife had been safely delivered of his thirteenth child, a son. As soon as this news had been received[,] the wind changed, and the voyage began in earnest, Whitelock praising God for His blessings. There followed seven days of violent and dangerous adventure, including an encounter with Dutch ships, a few shots, but a friendly finish, wild storms and a great deal of sea-sickness for nearly everybody but the Ambassador himself, who "held well".
They disembarked at Gothenburg, the seaport founded with immense foresight by Gustavus Adolphus, and built by Dutch settlers, which became one of the great ports of the world, and is now the key to Sweden's prosperity. Here they were received with due pomp and ceremony, but though the relief of being on land must have been great, their discomforts were not over, for after a short time spent in Gothenburg, there followed a fortnight's hard travelling on the road, with straw beds for most of the company at their stopping-places, and food consisting often of dead cows. The last three days of their journey were spent in the vast, sweet-scented forest of Valterd, three hundred miles long and seventy miles broad, of ash and oak, firs and birches, full of wolves, bears and other wild beasts. Here, when they came to a burgh, they had better food, pork and hares, and a little bird called a yerpen, more delicate than a partridge.
When within a mile of Upsala, the embassy prepared for the arrival of Vanderlin, the Queen's Master of Ceremonies, and the pages, lackeys, and the rest put on their liveries. Whitelock complains that Vanderlin arrived in careless garb, but this lack of respect was no doubt soon forgotten in the sight of the Queen's carosse du corps sent to convey him, which was of green velvet inside and out, richly laced with broad silver laces and fringed, with six white horses, and twenty of the Queen's lackeys in blue and silver, in attendance. There were eighteen coaches with six horses, and many gentlemen on horseback. Great crowds watched the procession, which was nearly as impressive as Whitelock could have wished, and he was conducted to the best house in the town, which he was glad to know was second in importance only to the Castle. It had been prepared specially for him, and by the Queen's orders hung with some of her most beautiful tapestries.
This was all very satisfactory, and as near as possible worthy of his exalted station and the vast importance of his mission. No one ever took himself more seriously than Whitelock, and, his excellent diary being written in the third person, he could extol himself and his own right-doing without self-consciousness whenever it was necessary, and it continually was.
The first person of distinction to send a greeting to the English Ambassador was Don Antonio Pimentelli, and Whitelock was not long in discovering that the Spanish Envoy was indeed one of the most important people to cultivate, while Pimentelli had no doubt from the first of the expediency of friendship with the Commonwealth Ambassador.
For his first audience with Christina, Whitelock was brilliantly accompanied by his gentlemen in their richest garments, and every man with his sword at his side. But the Ambassador himself was plain though extraordinarily rich in a habit of fine black English cloth, the cloak lined with the same cloth, and "both set with very fine diamond buttons; his hat-band of diamonds answerable; and all of the value of £1,000".
He found the Queen sitting on her crimson velvet chair of state, surrounded by a great company. He was probably taken aback by her unceremonious attire, which was of plain grey stuff, with a man's jacket, ruffled cuffs, and a black velvet cap lined with sable, which she took off whenever Whitelock uncovered. She wore the Order of Amaranta.
While he was speaking his address in English, which was interpreted into Swedish, she gazed fixedly in his face, a disturbing habit of hers. But Whitelock flatters himself that it would take more than that to daunt him. At the end she was silent for a pretty while. He had spoken with feeling of the Protestant cause, and of its defence by her father, Gustavus Adolphus, of blessed memory. Did her mind for one moment flinch at the thought of that King, and all he had fought and died for? After the short silence she advanced, and "with a countenance and gesture full of confidence, spirit and majesty, yet mixed with great civility and good grace", she replied in Swedish, which was translated into English, and she did not mention the Protestant cause. After this ceremonial audience they always conversed in French, Christina, with all her languages, having no English.
The commercial alliance between the Commonwealth and Sweden, which was the object of Whitelock's embassy, was long in the making. The Chancellor was cautious from the first, but when the unexpected news came of the change of government in England, and Cromwell became supreme Governor and Protector, the progress of events was again checked because of doubts as to the validity of the Ambassador's credentials under the new régime. After he had satisfied everyone upon this point with new documents arrived from England, there were still, he felt, unaccountable delays, which kept him in Upsala nearly four months. During this time the Queen treated him with great friendliness, giving him many private audiences, and evidently enjoying his ponderous "drolling". At the first private audience they walked up and down the room for two hours in conversation. Whitelock, who was lame, found that he was very weary, "yet at the same time in discourse with such a Princess, and upon such high matters (like a wounded man when he is hot), he felt not the pain, but felt it afterwards". After this Christina always called for stools, and they sat discussing everything under the sun, Christina being prone to get away from the main object of their meeting as much as possible. But when the Alliance was discussed she seldom failed to insist upon the advantage of bringing Spain into it, and here the influence of Pimentelli was obvious even to Whitelock. Christina was as much concerned for Spain as she was for Sweden, perhaps more so; but most of all, as will be seen later, she was concerned for herself.
One day she sent for Whitelock, and after a long discussion upon the Protestant religion, she, to change the subject, asked how he communicated secretly with his superiors in England. He explained the invisible ink he made himself. Two glasses of water were left with the Secretary of the Council, one to write with and the other to pour over Whitelock's letters when they arrived, when the blank page became a sheet of clearly written script. Then suddenly:
THE QUEEN. What huge dog is this?
WHITELOCK. It is an English mastiff, which I brought with me. It seems it is broke loose, and followed me even to this place.
THE QUEEN. Is he gentle and well-conditioned?
WHITELOCK. The more courage they have, the more gentle they are; this is both. Your Majesty may stroke him.
THE QUEEN. I have heard of the fierceness of these dogs; this is very gentle.
WHITELOCK. They are very gentle unless provoked, and of a generous kind: no creature hath more mettle of faithfulness than they have.
THE QUEEN. Is it your dog?
WHITELOCK. I cannot tell; some of my people told me that one Mr. Peters sent it for a present to the Queen.
THE QUEEN. Who is that Mr. Peters?
WHITELOCK. A Minister, and great servant to the Parliament.
THE QUEEN. That Mr. Peters sent me a letter.
WHITELOCK. He is a great admirer of Your Majesty, but to presume to send a letter or a dog for a present to a Queen, I thought above him, and not fit to be offered to Your Majesty.
THE QUEEN. I have many letters from private persons. His letter and the dog do belong to me, and are my goods, and I will have them.
WHITELOCK. Your Majesty commands in chief, and all ought to obey you, and so will I, not only as to the letter and dog, but likewise as to another part of his present, a great English cheese of his country making.
THE QUEEN. I do kindly accept them from him, and see that you send my goods to me.
WHITELOCK. I will not fail to obey Your Majesty.
They parted "in much drollery"[,] and the Queen was delighted with the English cheese. Whitelock's stratagem to bring the dog to her notice was crowned with success[,] but it needed no diplomacy on his part to dispose of the English horses he had brought over with him. Christina had her eye on them from the first. In fact, they made as much impression generally as the Ambassador himself. The Swedish horses were a small nag-like breed, and though the Queen and some of the nobles kept a few large and handsome animals, they did not compare with those that Whitelock brought out of England. The first tentative came from Prince Adolphus at his first visit, who praised them so highly, and stressed so much the danger of a sea voyage to them, that Whitelock was convinced he desired a couple or so for himself. But Whitelock was not so young a courtier as to pass the compliment of their being at His Highness's service, lest he might be taken at his word. However, one day, after a discourse on hunting, the Queen herself delivered a broad hint that could not be misunderstood. She thought, she said, of sending to England for horses, whereupon Whitelock, in duty bound, assured her that if she had a liking for any of his[,] they were at her disposal. Baron Steinbergh, Master of the Horse, was asked a few days later to bring to the Queen's notice that Whitelock was making her a small present of three saddle-horses. They were brought to the Castle and walked up and down while the Queen stood at a window for a great while judging their paces. Nothing but the snow hindered her from mounting them immediately. They were of excellent shape and mettle.
But this was not enough for Christina. She had set her heart on the splendid team of black horses which made such a stir when Whitelock went abroad in his coach. She felt that they were destined to carry her on her journey to the South. The South!
She was right, for though Whitelock was most unwilling to part with them, in the end she got them, and Prince Charles Gustavus had the other team of brilliant bays. The Chancellor was presented with a "strong, well-paced English pad nag", and several geldings were distributed as the Queen decided among her gentlemen, including Tott and Steinbergh. Whitelock had to borrow horses for his return journey.
Above: Kristina.
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Above: Bulstrode Whitelocke.
Notes: left-handed daughter = "*i.e.* daughter of second wife whose children cannot inherit if there is issue of the first wife."
dote = to be senile.
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