Source:
The Sibyl of the North: The Tale of Christina, Queen of Sweden, pages 220 to 232, by Faith Compton Mackenzie, 1931; original scan at the Universal Digital Library
The account:
CHAPTER XV
FIREWORKS
ON the night of July 25, 1667, Christina's palace at Hamburg was a blaze of illuminations. The centre-piece represented the Eucharist among clouds, adored by angels, and beneath it was an allegorical figure of the Church treading Heresy underfoot. The Rospigliosi arms crowned all.
Alexander VII was dead[,] and Cardinal Giulio Rospigliosi had been elected Pope. Christina had every reason for jubilation, because there had been a very strong chance of Cardinal Farnese succeeding to the Papacy. This would have been a disaster for her, because Farnese as Governor of Rome had made no secret of his disapproval of the Northern Queen and the conduct of her household. He had had to deal severely with her servants on several occasions for public misdemeanours, and sometimes had them beaten through the street. Then there had been a little unpleasantness on the Lungara — nothing really important, from a political point of view, but not helpful to their relations. The Farnese family owned a pleasure garden next door to the Palazzo Riario in Rome. The Cardinal loved to take his leisure in this retreat, which was known as the Vigna Farnese. He was as passionately interested in his flowers as Christina was in hers, and, because the wells of the Vigna Farnese were not inexhaustible, he bribed the keepers of the fountain of Pope Paul V, which was supposed to be reserved for Christina's exclusive use, to divert some of the water into his own garden.
"Very well", said Christina to her gardeners when she discovered this. "Pull down the palisades that keep his terrace from falling into my garden, and let us see what happens."
The terrace duly fell into her garden, and there it had to remain, because under the circumstances the Cardinal could not with dignity have the mess cleared up and a new wall built. Christina was never very good at reprisals, which always seemed to recoil on herself.
Rospigliosi had been Alexander VII's Secretary of State, and was one of Christina's closest friends. He was a great gentleman, with a cultured taste in all the arts, and a character that made him justly beloved. Christina had every reason to rejoice. But, however natural her delight at the result of the Conclave, her manner of showing it was perversely extravagant.
Hamburg was an exclusively Protestant city where the practice of the Catholic Faith was strictly forbidden by law. Any public demonstration of joy would be out of place, and might be to the detriment of Holy Church. But, deaf to the urgent appeals of the authorities of Hamburg, who prophesied disaster, she persisted in planning a feast which was to last three days, and to be inaugurated by High Mass in one of the rooms of the Palace. Court mourning for the consort of John Casimir of Poland, who had died a few weeks before, was abandoned. The Marquis del Monte, who was always at hand to encourage the Queen in extravagances from which he never failed to make handsome commissions, was the organizer of this ill-conceived affair.
Mass was celebrated, and so that all the world should know it, guns were fired at the elevation. These guns were placed in the square in front of the Palace. A grand banquet followed Mass, and the Prince of Hesse Homburg, who had been one of Christina's strongest dissuaders, was present. An enormous crowd had been outside the Palace for some hours, attracted not only by the prospect of fireworks, but by the two fountains of wine which were playing abundantly in the square. As soon as it was dark[,] the front of the Palace blazed with hundreds of flares. The great set piece revealed itself; the swirling arabesques of fire illumined the inscription:
"CLEMENS IX PONT: MAX: VIVAT"
The Eucharist! The adoring angels! The Papal Diadem and Keys!
The cannon roared. The people shouted for joy, because a shout of joy is the only possible response to fireworks, whether they are in honour of the Pope or the Devil. Christina and her guests appeared in the square and stood among the crowd watching the enchanting spectacle. Though the Azzolino arms did not appear in the illuminations, this display was a secret tribute to the beloved Cardinal, for had not His Holiness himself sent word to her that he had made Azzolino his Secretary of State?
This was a momentous evening, and[,] in spite of the scaremongers[,] it had been successful, she thought. Standing on the steps of her residence, she looked back at the solid mass of human faces illumined by the already dying glow, and was not disquieted by the glint of the thousands of eyes turned upon her, nor by the thunderous clamour which greeted her retirement into the Palace. Detestable Hamburghers! They did not deserve such a glorious spectacle.
But as soon as she was gone the lights began to sputter, the glory began to fade, and, worst of all, the fountains of wine ran dry. The spell was broken. The Papal emblems — the crude symbolism, now blackened with smoke and dripping with foul wax, matched the rapidly changing mood of the intoxicated people. They had been captivated by beauty at first — exhilarated by generous wine. Now the stink of grease filled their nostrils, the darkness that followed brilliance and the aftermath of wine turned the excited crowd into a vengeful, dangerous mob.
The Queen bade her guests good-bye and retired to bed. Her room was in the front of the Palace, and she had not been there long when a shower of stones crashed through her window. The noise outside was now terrifying. The mob was trying to break into the Palace, and was hurling itself against the doors, which were hastily secured as soon as the danger was realized. Fortunately Christina's principal guests had not gone far. The Prince of Hesse and his friends had gone to the cemetery of St. Michael's church to watch the dying fireworks and the crowd, and hastened to the Palace when they saw the changed mood of the people. Hesse went to the Municipality for help, and another guest, the Count of Leiningen, to the Commandant of the town to ask for military assistance. The Commandant replied that he had been advised not to interfere, and by the time Leiningen arrived at the Palace with this news[,] the situation was desperate indeed. It was obvious that Christina and her household were in peril of their lives. The mob was ferociously determined to storm the Palace, and there was only one way of saving it and themselves.
Christina gave the order to fire. The cannon which had saluted the Pope boomed again, musketry cracked, a deadly fire swept the square, and of the Hamburghers some fell dead and many were wounded. At this juncture the Commandant of the town, having changed his mind about coming to the aid of the Papist Queen, arrived with his soldiery and drove off the rest of the now terrified crowd, which was already flying from the scene.
By back streets, and carefully guarded, the Queen was escorted to the house of the Swedish Minister, where she took refuge for the night. But next morning she was round at the Palace, which was continually surrounded by a large crowd of curious people, among whom she walked unconcerned, giving orders for the necessary repairs, and in three days she was installed again, as though nothing had happened. By way of reprisal she gave orders to her governors in Sweden to confiscate all Hamburg ships found in the ports of her island of Öland [sic]. As Hamburg had no trade with Öland, this act of hostility meant nothing at all, but the Regency, to make it clear to her that she had no power in Sweden, and further to humiliate her, forbade Bååt to take any notice of this command. Christina dealt generously with the families of the dead and wounded, and Hamburg seems to have resigned itself to her continued presence, for she remained another year engaged in the bitter task of dealing with financial problems.
Her leisure was spent in the laboratory of the famous physician and alchemist, Borri. She sought, as usual, the philosopher's stone. Borri was sufficiently notorious to have been burnt in effigy in the Campo de' Fiori at Rome after he had fled from a process for heresy. Over the Alps he fled to Germany and Holland, and wherever he went he performed sensational cures and miracles of alchemy. In Hamburg he did not find the philosopher's stone nor the solvent alkahest which, when found, would be, so it was said, even more potent than the stone. But he cured the Marquis del Monte of a serious malady, and, if a letter had not arrived from Azzolino telling Christina that Borri was an excommuniqué and that his presence in her Court was not well seen at the Vatican, he might well have become a permanent institution. He was immediately dismissed, and went to Denmark, where he flourished under the patronage of Frederick III. Years later he died in captivity.
The excellent Adami was still in Sweden endeavouring to secure, once for all, the Queen's revenues. As well attempt to turn base metal into gold! After two years of disheartening effort[,] he was succeeding with the renting of her islands, in spite of the Regency's delicately placed obstacles and the governor Bååt's open hostility. Bååt and Appelmann, who should have served Christina's interests, were creatures of Magnus de la Gardie, and there was no possible chance of easing her financial situation so long as the Chancellor was in power. He would see to that. Adami, though Christina had warned him, never quite gauged the perfidy of the Chancellor. The honest Italian was really working very hard, and did not deserve the constant criticism and haughty tone of Christina's letters to him. He had jealous enemies at Court, among them del Monte and Santini, and they were always ready to meet her moods of exasperation with a note of distrust.
Adami was at last so discouraged by her letters that he asked for his recall. Christina had no sooner given it than she began to dream of returning to Sweden. So Adami must remain. She wrote a polite letter explaining why his recall should be cancelled, but unfortunately the letter before that had openly accused him of dishonesty, a monstrous charge in the face of his loyal disinterested service. He left Stockholm at once, announcing there that the Queen had given him his congé, and arrived in Hamburg at the beginning of the year 1668. Christina was now conscious that she was losing a faithful servant, and attempted to be friendly with him.
"When I am on my way back to Rome, I hope I may see you at Loreto?" she said when he came to take his congé.
She always stopped at the shrine of Our Lady of Loreto (which was near Fermo, the birthplace of Azzolino and Adami)[,] where she had left her diamond crown and sceptre, on her first journey through Italy.
Adami, proud and deeply wounded, merely said coldly: "If I happen to be at Fermo", and went from her presence without compliments. Before he left Hamburg for Italy[,] he told del Monte and Santini and even, it was said, Texiera, what he thought of them. He had lost in the game of courtiers because he was an honest and simple soul. He lacked the graces of Santinelli, and he was not physically attractive to the Queen, which was the principal cause of his undoing.
Christina's renewed desire for Sweden was roused by the news that the postponed Diet would really sit in 1668. The usual wearisome exchange of proposals and negatives heaped up a mass of futile correspondence. While the Regency was quite firmly determined that Christina should never enter Sweden again, she on her side was only half-hearted in her attempt to do so. She knew her threats disquieted the Regency, and it was the only revenge she could take for the discomforts with which they encumbered her path. While she was always longing for Rome and detesting more and more the cold North, she was still a victim of ambition.
When someone remarked that she should console her cousin John Casimir of Poland for the loss of his consort, she said darkly: "I may sit on the throne, but not beside him."
John Casimir had reigned at Warsaw since 1648. He was a feeble degenerate and childless member of the Vasa family, and had been a cardinal before he came to the throne. When his wife died he chose to abdicate and return to the Church. Promises from Louis XIV of substantial benefices if he abdicated before September 20, 1668, hastened his retirement, and on the 16th of that month he formally resigned the crown.
Another empty throne!
There were four candidates for it; the Duke of Neubourg, the Prince of Condé, Prince Charles of Lorraine and the son of the Czar of Russia. There was not much to choose between them. The Poles themselves hated the French, Germans and Russians with good reason, but they favoured Condé because he was supported by the great Sobieski.
Christina determined to be the fifth candidate. Tradition was in her favour, and this was not the first time she had looked towards Poland as a possible solution of her ambiguous situation. Her sex was against her, but, as Azzolino wrote to the nuncio at Warsaw, Monsignore Marescotti, "all the world now looks upon the Queen not only as a man, but as superior to all men".
The Pope approved of the project, though he had already promised his protection to the Duke of Neubourg and the Prince of Lorraine, but that was before Christina announced her resolve. So long as a Catholic ruled in Poland — that was the main thing. He issued a secret brief to the Polish Diet urging the election of Christina, "that heroine remarkable for her piety, her wisdom and her virile courage".
Most enthusiastic of all was Azzolino. Whatever his motive for wishing to see Christina on the Polish throne, he worked without ceasing for that end. She was, he declared to Marescotti, born to command an army, to endure the privations of war. In support of this statement he instanced her long hours in the saddle without food or drink. (Many years ago this. Christina was now forty-two, and her health was uncertain.) Her courage and martial spirit only needed proving, said Azzolino. He did not stop at the praises of Christina. The abdicating King should be flattered; he might be useful. Hearing that he wanted to live in the Papal States, Azzolino offered him his own estate at Fermo. John Casimir found the idea attractive, and negotiations were almost completed when his stipulation that he should be allowed liberté des femmes brought the affair to an abrupt close. Azzolino was not going to have any ecclesiastical scandals in his own country if he could help it. John Casimir ended his days in France.
When the question of marriage came up, Azzolino hastened to assure Marescotti that Christina would marry whom the Polish Diet wished. Christina herself, when approached on this subject, merely agreed that she would not marry anyone to whom the Polish Diet objected. Then came the delicate question of the succession, and it was hinted that the Queen's age was against her providing an heir. At this Azzolino threw reserve to the winds. He declared (in confidence) there was no reason why she should not have a son, because her temperament was still so vigorous that there was every prospect of this possibility for another ten years. Whereas, in her youth, her excessive ardour might have prevented conception. This was from one man of the world to another. As the whole business was a profound secret, such clear evidence of Azzolino's familiarity with Christina's temperament need not go farther than the nuncio. This somewhat bewildered person was doing his best to steer between the various candidates so as not to lose the cardinal's hat which at least two of them were holding out to him. The Pope's strict injunction to secrecy made it possible for him when approached by Christina's emissary, Hacki, to put his finger to his lips intimating that by order of His Holiness the subject must not be discussed; so negotiations went slowly. Christina had also held out a cardinal's hat, but Marescotti had little faith in it, at first. As the months went by, however, and the massive correspondence of Azzolino and Cardinal Rospigliosi (nephew of the Pope) piled up the evidence of His Holiness's desire that Christina might be chosen as his candidate, Marescotti thought it prudent to divulge the secret of the Papal choice to one of the most influential electors, the Bishop of Posnanie.
When Marescotti whispered the name of Christina, the Bishop crossed himself several times and begged his friend not to joke with him. It was later made quite clear that the idea of a woman, however good a man she might be, would not be entertained for a moment by the electors. Azzolino and Rospigliosi were begged to save the Pope from disappointment and cancel the candidature of Christina, because there was no possibility of her being chosen. Fortunately the secret had been well kept and[,] the cancellation could be done without much embarrassment to the Pope or to Christina. When the election took place there was no mention of her, and indeed the other four candidates had no better fortune than she had, for the Poles elected one of their own princes, Michel Korybut Wiesnowiecki, who burst into tears when he knew he was elected, reigned ingloriously for four years, and was succeeded by John Sobieski himself.
During the nine months of the Polish negotiations Christina was at Hamburg, sad and ill, hardly sharing the enthusiasm of Azzolino for the new project. Even the summer was cold and dreary. Fires were necessary in August, and she had constant headaches and sore throats. Azzolino's letters were evidently full of reproaches, and he complained that he could not keep up her household without funds, and hinted that rumours of her extravagance in Hamburg had reached him. This subject always reduced her to a state of despair. His treatment will kill her, and, indeed, she longs to die. If he has so poor an opinion of her, why does he think her worthy to rule over Poland? And then, his cruel treatment will never change the unalterable affection that she will have for him — till death. That is always the sum of it. She will never cease to love him.
A few weeks before Christina left Hamburg for Rome, a very curious Englishman appeared on the scene. He was a Carmelite priest; his name was, according to Christina, "Cornicz". He was on his way to Rome from England, which he had left rather suddenly. Christina, hearing that he was ill and a priest, sent such help as was necessary to him, and when he came to pay his respects she was, she declared to Azzolino, amazed at his appearance. He was clothed in a flame-coloured suit covered with ribbons, his hair was elaborately curled and he wore a point de Paris cravat "handsomer than my own". This bright creature attached himself to her household, and was known as il frate delle fettucie because of the ribbons with which he decked himself. He spent his time drinking and meddling scandalously with Court affairs, and announced to the world that he was one of the Queen's gentlemen, whereas she says that she only spoke to him twice — once at the first audience, when she told him to change his habit, and the second time when she advised him to stop gossiping. It was not until she had to dismiss him for choses indecentes that she mentioned him to Azzolino, and then probably only because he would certainly go gossiping to Rome. He was such a type as Christina might have been amused to study for a while, but a type that is inconvenient in a household.
It is not surprising that Adami should have revenged himself against his enemies as soon as he arrived in Rome. He visited Azzolino and revealed to him the perfidy of del Monte in particular, assuring the Cardinal that he and Santini were always ready to sell the Queen's secrets to the highest bidder, that del Monte was, in fact, a black-guard and a traitor and not fit to be in her service.
The result of this was that del Monte was sent to Rome by Christina, to justify himself or to die. Naturally he justified himself, and no doubt Azzolino was easily persuaded of his innocence. Another execution by Christina should at all costs be avoided. The Marquis returned triumphant to escort Christina from Hamburg, but he was a little late and met her on the road.
"I leave this place with the joy of a soul escaping from Purgatory — and I hope I have done a good part of mine here", she writes to Azzolino on the 20th of October. This is her last letter to Azzolino from Hamburg, written on the day of her departure for Rome. Its optimistic tone is not justified by events. She declares that she issues gloriously from the Purgatory that was Hamburg, and implies that the Swedish affairs are settled to her and, she is sure, to his, ultimate satisfaction.
On the contrary, those two years of struggle, sickness and unhappiness were years utterly wasted. She had better have been in Rome, among her books and pictures and her flowers, breathing in the gold, sunlit air she so much needed, enjoying those precious days which "only endured a moment". Whatever good came out of those two years had been accomplished by Adami in Sweden, for[,] in spite of de la Gardie, his efforts had produced a slight improvement in the delivery, if not in the extent, of her revenue. That was all. Sweden was definitely forbidden her during the King's minority, and the Polish affair was still undecided when she left Hamburg. Her genius, so prodigal and so perverse, had spent itself in perplexing calculations and gargantuan correspondence which led to nothing — nothing — nothing at all.
. . . . . . .
Near Luneburg, on the way South, a cannon, saluting her, burst into a thousand pieces.
Above: Kristina.
Above: Pope Alexander VII.
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Above: Pope Clement IX.
Above: Cardinal Decio Azzolino.
Above: Lorenzo Adami.
Above: Faith Compton Mackenzie.
Notes: Marie Louise Gonzaga, queen consort of Poland, had passed away on May 10, 1667, at 55 years old.
Posnanie is the French name for the Polish city of Poznań.
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