Source:
Christina of Sweden, pages 89 to 92, by Ada Harrison, 1929
The biography:
Christina rubbed along in the pontificate of Clement X, but she came into open conflict with his successor, Innocent XI. Innocent was a puritanical Pope, a man of high personal principles, which he rigidly imposed on Rome. Under him the city enjoyed one of its periodical purifications. All expenditure was cut down; all frivolity was discountenanced. The theatre was frowned upon as a promoter of licence, paid performances were stopped and Innocent attempted to forbid women to appear at all upon the boards. Christina, threatened in her dearest pleasure, was instantly up in arms, especially since Innocent, as Cardinal Odescalchi, had often sat in her box at the theatre, and since she herself had introduced women upon the Roman stage. At her instigation paid performances were advertised as private, and every purging measure introduced by the Pope she either circumvented or defied. It is to be feared that her final occupation, which lasted intermittently up till the time of her death, was quarrelling with the Pope. Passages of arms were many. In 1682, Christina asked, not unreasonably, for theatrical performances during Carnival. This request was brusquely refused. She immediately arranged for the performance to be given in her own house. Innocent retaliated by having three of Christina's gentlemen arrested for whispering in church. His next move was the legitimate but cruel one of cutting off her pension of twelve thousand crowns, allowed her since the days of Alexander VII. Touched in this vital spot Christina still sounded her defiant note, but it was with a break in the voice. 'The twelve thousand crowns given me by the Pope was the single blot on my life', she wrote hysterically, 'the greatest mortification God could have inflicted for the humiliation of my pride. I see well that I am in favour with Him, since He has done me the singular grace of removing it.'
To Innocent's sumptuary laws about female dress, Christina responded with her tongue in her cheek. A ban having been published on décolletage, she appeared before him in a high-necked gown, coat and cravat, making the Roman ladies who saw her die of laughing. Whenever Christina had a request to make, Innocent snubbed it outright, and in the end definitely refused her audience. Whenever the Pope had an edict to issue for the good of his city, the stranger did her utmost to make it appear foolish.
Their most serious conflict, which was indeed no minor matter, was the so-called affair of the quarters. A scandal in Rome, much grown by use and negligence, was the asylum afforded to criminals in the privileged quarters. These had originally been the seats of the foreign representatives, but by now they had grown to be whole streets around the embassies. There was thus a substantial portion of the city outside the reach of justice.
Innocent set himself heroically to abolish these pestiferous neighbourhoods. When the determination was first published, Christina wrote, glowing with magnanimity and approval, to offer her support. 'Most Holy Father', ran her letter, 'in order to second the very pious views of Your Holiness, I voluntarily resign into your hands forever all those privileges which from the justice and politeness of your predecessors, as well as of your Holiness, I have enjoyed. ... I acknowledge that I offer nothing to your Holiness but what pertains to you. ... I neither expect nor desire from your Holiness any return.' But though the spirit was professed willing, the queenly flesh, when it came to the test, was weak. While driving through one of the quarters, Christina came upon the Pope's men in their purifying act. The criminal whom they were attempting to arrest escaped their clutches, and clung to the queen's carriage-wheels for sanctuary. Touched in her royal ego, Christina, as usual, suffered a mist before the eyes. The Pope's men attempted to do their duty. Christina, choking with indignation, ordered her gentlemen to fight them off. Without further preliminary the war was in full rage.
A species of Guelf and Ghibelline struggle ensued. Numerous acts of blood were committed by the troops and bravoes in the name of their superiors. As in the case of Alexander VII, Christina forgot her submission. 'If he be a Pope', she said, 'I will make him remember that I am a queen!' Her household were delighted to have a pretext for brawling, and rallied round her with enthusiasm. At one point, as a demonstration, she summoned them and dramatically dismissed them all, as having no power to protect them, whereat they all tearfully swore themselves back into her service. Christina was subject now not only to the Pope's stringent displeasure, but also to constant insults, mortifications and alarms, and yet, in spite of her wretchedness, she relished it all. Since infancy 'Engage!' had always been her motto, whatever the size of the adversary. She could not help loving a fight.
She loved it all the more now because she was growing old, and proof that she was still strong was becoming dear to her. To grow old was not an easy business for Christina. She was not like the rushes that bend. That fire of hers, always her most splendid quality, lasted with her, and she could not bear the thought of it burning low enough through physical failure. She dreaded not to die, but to decline.
'I have naturally a violent aversion to the thought of old age', she wrote to Mlle de Scudéry, 'and cannot imagine how I shall ever accustom myself to bear its infirmities. Was the choice of old age or death in my power, I think I should prefer the latter without hesitation; but since that is a point upon which we are never consulted[,] I study to make life as agreeable as I can.'
It could not honestly be said that she ever grew old. Her dauntlessness remained. She never sank to any moderation. She was 'perfectly well', she would protest, refusing to be otherwise, and flinging herself as ardently as ever into some new pursuit. She would vow every now and then that she had become a spectator at the feast of life, but she never for an instant meant it. Nor did her sentiments grow any quieter. Once, when Terlon, the French ambassador, had invited her opinion about the Huguenots, she had rushed to paper. 'I am rejoiced to deliver my sentiments on this important subject', she wrote. 'That I neither fear nor flatter any person living has always been my assertion.' To the end she rejoiced to deliver her sentiments without fear and particularly without flattery. In 1686 she was writing of Innocent IX: 'The Pope looks like a man of eighty, recovering from a bad illness. You can imagine that my joy would be great if he happened not to revive. But he is so little inclined to benefit the human race that he will give me this satisfaction as late as possible, and as he is lengthy in all his operations, he will not hurry to. ...!'
Innocent, in the end, did not give Christina this satisfaction at all. It turned out that she was obliged to give it him, a contingency never entertained by her confidence.
Above: Kristina.
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Above: Pope Innocent XI.
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