Source:
Christina of Sweden, pages 81 to 85, by Ada Harrison, 1929
The biography:
Rome, for the moment, adequately suggested paradise. The return was cloudless. The amiable Clement IX was Pope, Azzolino was secretary of state, Christina would in all probably be Queen of Poland. The cordiality of the welcome home for once masked no ulterior sentiment. It was Christina's golden moment. Now[,] for the first time[,] she could see Rome as she had dreamed it in Sweden fifteen years ago. Charming company was at her call; there were music, pageants, dramatic representations galore, with no censorious Pope to forbid. The queen returned as Basilissa to grace her Academy, and had the gratification of seeing Clement himself become a member. Privately she made herself happy by establishing connections with half the learned men in Europe, and by spending long hours with Azzolino and their friend the Marquis of Palombara in the little distilleria or laboratory she had fitted up in her palace, pursuing the forbidden but irresistible delights of alchemy. She could fancy for the moment that all her hopes would be realised, and peering into a future made radiant to her optimism by the unusually fair present, could even dream of the tiara for her lover.
But the good time did not last. In 1660 [sic], the same year in which the new King of Poland was elected, Clement IX died. He, like Christina, had been a lover of Near Eastern schemes, and had actually put one into execution, and when this failed and the island of Cyprus was lost to the Turk, his distress was so great that it killed him. With Clement IX the halcyon days ended. But before, under his successor, old troubles were renewed, there was an interregnum of a kind particularly dear to Christina. This was the period of the conclave of Clement X.
Clement IX had been made Pope without the participation of Christina. This error was to be amply repaired in the election of Clement X. Christina was not a member of the sacred college, but was bound to one body and soul, and it was inevitable that she should be as busy as ten cardinals. The conclave was indeed a time of seething activity for all concerned. No sooner was the dead Pope buried than the Vatican resounded to the hammers and chisels of the five hundred masons, carpenters, and miscellaneous workmen who, under the direction of the artist Bernini, had to knock up the elaborate temporary accommodation of the conclave. Not only the cardinals had to be provided for, but a veritable army of confessors, doctors, chemists and lesser servants. At last the cells were ready, and the cardinals, attended by friends, dependants and hangers-on, filed in and drew lots for their icy winter-quarters. Christina was near Azzolino, taking from him, most likely, her last-minute instructions, and brilliantly dissembling their choice by remarking of him audibly: 'He is out of the question!' There was the usual cry of Extra Omnes, she wrung his hand for the last time, the doors were sealed up and the conclave began. To elect a Pope a two-thirds majority was necessary, and the voting was taken twice every day.
As soon as the conclave became imminent, Christina had taken for Azzolino the splendid palace of the Borgo Nuovo, which was inside the Vatican circuit, and thus allowed messengers to ply between it and the Vatican without a pass. From its garden Christina could see the windows of Azzolino's cell. She had herself a workroom fitted in the palace, and here she established herself to work, as usual, until she fainted at her post. She was henceforth, for the period of the conclave, transformed into a sensitive instrument picking up messages from all Rome and beyond, and relaying them in cipher to Azzolino at the rate of four long letters a day.
While Azzolino worked for his candidate with every subtle means inside the Vatican, Christina did likewise in the city. Many factions went to the making of a Pope. There were numerous well-defined parties among the cardinals themselves, and powerful outside influence was wielded by the Roman Catholic sovereigns. Christina occupied herself with these. Her candidate, Vidoni, was that of neither France nor Spain, but of the so-called Flying Squadron. She therefore set to work with the French and Spanish ambassadors, playing them off indefatigably against each other, in order to induce them both, by her own devious methods, to vote according to her choice. It was an exhausting game. 'If it please God[,] I have good news for you', she wrote to Azzolino, 'but I cannot give it you, for I can no more. I must eat a mouthful. Then I will write you.'
Meanwhile inside the Vatican they voted and voted again. Almost every cardinal's name came up, but none received the requisite number of votes. Azzolino excelled himself in industry and diplomacy, making coalitions with group after group. But in the end astuteness overshot its mark. When the conclave was over four months old the factions, without giving him a hint of their intentions, suddenly combined and elected Cardinal Altieri, who had never up till then been closely in the running. Azzolino was left completely in the cold.
Altieri received the news with sincerest anguish. He was eighty, and he prayed the cardinals with tears to let him be. But he was not allowed to make the great refusal. He was hailed Pope, and the doors were thrown open. Christina, in spite of her cruel disappointment and Azzolino's, was the first to kiss his foot, but she departed from her congratulations 'with so melancholy a mien that it was well known she was not pleased.' Still, the Pope was old. No doubt she was soon turning over in her mind whom next would she put on Peter's throne.
Clement X gave the lie to expectations by living for seven years. He was no friend to Christina, and during his pontificate she put aside her larger schemes and turned to art and letters once again. In these pursuits her better side was uppermost. Her generosity, strong as ever, showed to advantage with her literary friends. She educated the sons of Vi[n]cenzo Filicaia, one of the poets of the period who have not stood the test of time, and was as eager as ever to help poor men of talent. Carini, who wrote the history of the Arcadia, into which her little Accademia Reale grew, said of her: 'There was not a mendicant who was not lifted out of his misery, nor a man of letters she did not heap with honours and gifts.' Any poor Swedes whom she met in Rome were certain of the same treatment. A kinsman of hers discovered in rags was recognised, rescued and started again in life. A poor Swede, called Struzzen[s]kiöld, who asked her charity, was given a place in her guard, on condition that he changed his name because the queen could not pronounce it. She looked upon herself as the particular protector of the Swedes who had become Roman Catholics and had had their goods confiscated at home. It was for these charitable purposes that she most hated to lack money: 'My will is not wanting', she said. 'It is money I lack. If God gives it to me I will give it to others.'
But men of talent had a particular claim on her. To them she could be tolerant, and from them she could even brook offences. This she showed in her dealings with Bayle, who declared that a letter she wrote in defence of the Huguenots was a 'fragment of protestantism'. Christina was furious, but when he wrote to ask pardon she granted it readily, only requiring him, as a penance, to send her his own journal and everything in Latin, French or Spanish that was worth reading. But even men of genius must observe certain rules. 'I would have joyfully accepted the Atlantides', she wrote over the question of a dedication, 'if Rubtevius had dedicated the first volume to me, but his idea of dedicating the second volume to me is not honourable. As he has addressed the first to the Emperor, the second must not and cannot be addressed to me. Therefore tell him from me to save my name for another work, which I shall be glad to receive. I am sorry the idea did not occur to him at first, because this excellent book should by rights belong to me.' The divine right of Christina, after so much battering, remained quite unimpaired.
Above: Kristina.