Source:
The Sibyl of the North: The Tale of Christina, Queen of Sweden, pages 177 to 189 (part 3: "Cardinal Red"), by Faith Compton Mackenzie, 1931; original scan at the Universal Digital Library
The account:
CHAPTER XII
PALAZZO RIARIO
THE treaty with the Duke of Modena, for all the solemnity of its signing, was so much waste paper. One of the clauses was that Christina should obtain the Pope's sanction for the free passage of the Duke's armies through the Papal States. This in itself was enough to damn the whole project, and Alexander had no desire to support the plot against Spain.
When, in the spring of 1658, Christina returned to Rome, the Pope's attitude towards her was clearly demonstrated by his refusal to leave his summer quarters at Castel Gandolfo, to welcome her back to the city. He contented himself with the gift of a handsome rinfresco — a good show of wine, game, fruits and other delicacies, carried by no less than twenty-four facchini.
"Ha!" cried Christina at this. "In Rome it seems they provision the enemy before the siege!"
The Farnese Palace was not available. The Duke of Parma had seen to that. Christina borrowed Mazarin's residence, which was in the same piazza as the pontifical Quirinal — another source of irritation to the Pope. Gossip said she was enrolling her troops there, and so disquieting were the tales brought to His Holiness that he had the Palace heavily guarded and patrolled night and day. Christina's reply to this was to dismiss most of her own guard, seeing that the Pope was looking after her so well.
The Naples project languished through the summer, and finally flickered out with the death of the Duke of Modena in October, by which time Christina was busy with other devices to pass the time and spend money. She had for a long time been pondering on the Turkish menace to Europe, and she had enough vision to conceive the idea of a union of Christian nations, a crusade against the invasion of the infidel. The seed of this grand scheme lay in a project of hers for reinstating Ludovico Santinelli, the executioner of Monaldesco, who was waiting at Modena until the Fontainebleau incident should cease to be the principal topic of Rome. He should lead an army against the Turks, under the Venetian standard!
Probably no one less appropriate than Ludovico could have been chosen for this high rôle, but Christina threw herself into the plan with her usual enthusiasm, discussing it fervently with the Venetian Ambassador, who seems to have taken it seriously, and even advancing three thousand crowns of her own money for preliminary expenses. Then suddenly the whole thing came to nothing, and Ludovico is not heard of again. The Crusade idea, however, was not entirely abandoned, and hung like a rich tapestry behind the inconsequent tangle of ambitious schemes and erratic notions which cluttered the foreground of her mind. Though it was as abortive as the rest, there was grandeur in its conception, and it is unique among her schemes in being directed towards the good of the Church and Europe more than towards her own self-aggrandisement.
The usual financial exasperations greeted her in Rome. She had borrowed a largish sum from Cardinal Mazarin when in France, besides the thirty-three thousand crowns which he had added to her revenue through Sweden. She had entrusted the payment of this debt to her agent Texiera, who had fulfilled his trust with such dismaying alacrity that she found a meagre sum awaiting her in Rome; and[,] to add to her anxieties, her emissary Davidsson, a convert to the Faith, returned from Sweden with the worst possible bulletin of her financial position, and of his reception in Sweden. The King's horror of Catholics was such that he had refused to interview him. Besides which, he was so much occupied with complicated military operations that Christina's demands, always irksome, were scarcely to be thought of.
She was so incensed by the apparent indifference to her interests in one who owed so much to her, that she wrote him a long, very forcible letter reproaching him for his neglect and, urged as usual by the necessity for ready money, suggesting the sale outright of one of her towns, Norrköping, to be paid for by Sweden from the subsidies due from France in virtue of the new alliance.
But Charles was not really callous. In the face of the continual opposition of his advisers, the devastation of her lands in Pomerania, and the grave situation of Sweden, he spared her what he could from the exhausted treasury. Mazarin, continually being importuned for funds, at last definitely refused to supply her with another crown, on the grounds that he could do nothing without the consent of Sweden. Finally, Texiera in Hamburg was able to lend a respectable sum on her jewels, which had not been fully pledged.
Meanwhile, pawning and selling were the order of the day. Francesco Santinelli, still Grand Chamberlain, busied himself with the disposal of plate, bibelots, tapestries and embroideries; even her mantle of State with its gold crowns and ermine lining went the way of the rest. Experience had taught Francesco all there was to know about the art of plundering, and so blindly did Christina trust him now, as if to compensate him for the treachery of Monaldesco, that the tricks he played upon her were such as should not have deceived a child. Her diamonds, he said, were still in pawn, because the money she had given him to redeem them he had lent to Cardinal Azzolino, who was so sensitive about the transaction that it would be better not to mention it to him. All the liveries, uniforms and arms that she had brought from Paris for her entry into Naples were borrowed ostensibly for theatricals, but they were never seen again. She questioned nothing, but that was her way. When a person was in favour[,] he could do no wrong. As soon as his usefulness or charm began to wear thin, he could do nothing right. Monaldesco was the extreme case of this extravagant taking up and dropping of persons and projects.
While Christina was in France and Francesco Santinelli was supposed to be looking after her interests in Rome, Donna Anna Maria Aldobrandini, the grand-niece of Clement VIII and the wealthy young widow of the Duke of Ceri, appeared upon the scene. She fell in love with Santinelli, but when she announced that she was going to marry him, her family raised strong objections to the penniless provincial nobleman whose character was only too well known in Rome. There was even a rumour, none too vague, that he had poisoned the Duke of Ceri with the help of the Duchess. The family appealed to the Pope to forbid the marriage. Alexander took up the charge vigorously, and the affair had arrived at this stage when Christina returned to Rome. The lovers at once enlisted her sympathy. She was ready to give it to any cause Santinelli might have at heart, and she loved an intrigue, especially if there was passion in it. She wrote at once to the Duke of Parma, who was a relation of the Duchess, asking for his support. The Pope was very angry at this; the Duchess was sent under an armed guard to a convent, and the dismissal of Santinelli was demanded of Christina.
Convent bars, not too forbidding, only made the affair more interesting, and if anything were needed to keep the lovers at fever heat, Christina supplied it with continual admonitions and encouragements, and the designing of a plot to spirit away the Duchess from the convent and marry the pair secretly. But the Pope had as many spies in the convent as the Ceri had friends, and he was perfectly aware of every development. Just as the plot was matured, the lady disappeared. She was imprisoned in Castello Sant'Angelo, where, though she was comfortably lodged[,] she was completely cut off from the world, and so carefully watched that the most ardent lover could not so much as smuggle a note.
The fun of fighting His Holiness soon began to pall. After all, he was Head of the Church, however irrational he might be, and it was humiliating to be kept waiting for an audience, as Christina was for several weeks. Not easy to retaliate on this. At last an audience was granted, but it was a frigid affair. All the cordiality had gone out of their relations. Alexander had complained that she was a barbarian, that her ideas were barbarian, and that her pride was ferocious, almost intolerable. He had sent out two ultimatums to her as soon as she arrived in Rome. First, that she should dismiss Santinelli from her service immediately, and secondly, that she should change her residence at once. She did neither, for the moment. Alexander was accustomed to be obeyed; he became more and more exasperated, and the Ceri business was the final exasperation. Cardinal de Retz wrote of Alexander VII:
"He is a man of minutiæ, which is not only a sign of a small mind, but of a mean spirit. He told me one day of his youthful studies, and how for two years he used the same pen; this is only a bagatelle, but, as I have often remarked, it is the little things that matter and not the big ones; it did not please me."
Wise counsels prevailed with Christina at last, and they came from Azzolino. The first move was the evacuation of the Palazzo Mazarin. She retired into a convent for a short while, and the world said that she was going to take the veil. While the Duchess of Ceri was incarcerated in Sant'Angelo[,] Christina wrote a letter of sober advice to her, urging her to give up Santinelli. This was for the eyes of the Pope, who took it for what it was, another drop of balm which at Azzolino's suggestion she as applying to his ruffled feelings. And, yes, even Santinelli should go, but only as far as Vienna to carry her compliments to the Emperor, Leopold the Great, and sound him on the possibility of his lending her twenty thousand troops under Montecuculi, that she might wrest from Sweden the land of Pomerania, where she had so many supporters, and serve Charles Gustavus right for his neglect. Whatever Santinelli achieved on this question — there is only one letter from him and that is in cipher — he found Vienna sufficiently diverting, and Christina reproaches him with staying too long, and accepting far more entertainment than his position warranted. Another letter from her, dated May 13, 1659, shows that she has discovered he is posing as her ambassador in Vienna. "Which is far from being your standing, and farther still from your deserts." She declares that she is disgusted with his follies, and, in short, gives him formal notice to quit her service.
Events had moved quickly after his departure for Vienna. A horrible tragedy was the burning of Christina's stables through the carelessness of her French coachman. All her splendid horses perished and most of her equipages.
Palazzo Riario, on the Lungara near the Porta San Pancrazio, by the death of the Princess Botero, fell vacant, and Christina bought it. The lease was signed by Cardinal Barberini, who advanced money for the purchase. The Pope, now full of graciousness, appointed Cardinal Azzolino to be director of her household. It did not take the Cardinal long to convince her of her late Chamberlain's villainy. His absence laid bare his atrocious frauds. Azzolino laughed at the story of the diamonds and the borrowed money. It was not difficult for her to write that letter of dismissal to Santinelli. He was most definitely finished, and there is no record of her ever seeing him again.
Palazzo Riario, which is now the Corsini, became Christina's headquarters until her death. At last she had found the home she wanted. It would hold all her treasures[,] and it had a most delicious garden. The transport of her library and other possessions from Antwerp was put in train at once. Azzolino devoted himself with such enthusiasm to the adjustment of her affairs that a reasonable and even dignified life seemed to be before her. There was not a taint of Santinelli left in her household when the Cardinal had cleared up the dreadful disorder above and below stairs.
He gave her an establishment worthy of her status, but not too costly. There were twenty gentlemen, a good show of lackeys and pages, and among the members of her suite was the Abbé Santini, who took the place of Santinelli's friend and accomplice, Baschi, as her secretary. Santini was a fine fellow, devoted to Azzolino and Christina, a linguist with an exquisite hand, somewhat addicted to wine and not at all indifferent to women. He, and the Canon de Marchis, her majordomo, were in her service till her death, and Macchiati, her doctor, who came from Azzolino's birthplace, and Pezza, her librarian, died in her service. Lorenzo Adami, also from Fermo, was Captain of the Guard. She was surrounded now by decent people, and for the rest of her life a small band of affectionate servitors and friends faithfully bore with her egotism and vagaries, for the sake of the generous heart that never really changed.
Peace of mind came to Christina, much as in the old days when Bourdelot came to Stockholm. This time it was not overwork, but the haunting consciousness of the muddle she had made of her emancipation, that had brought her spirits low. And, instead of Bourdelot, Azzolino was the healer. She changed her ways; the arrogant pride which had so shocked Rome last year had given place to an agreeable manner. She was sprightly and cheerful; someone said that she combined French vivacity, Italian wit, Swedish courage, and Roman good manners. She began her studies again, and wasted a good deal of time and money in her laboratory trying to turn base metal into gold. ...
She was a happy woman because at last she was really in love, and the man she loved was constantly beside her. She was now thirty-two, and Azzolino was only three years older.
Every day her private chamber in the Riario would be illuminated by this enthralling personality. They would sit side by side, poring over the details of her household — and no one should say more than that the Queen and Azzolino were occupied with household affairs. It was his duty to come to her[,] and it was her ever-growing pleasure to receive him. There was the flash and challenge of brilliant dark eyes to radiant blue eyes — the accidental touch of slim, eloquent hand on a shapely boy's hand, as papers were passed or a book consulted. Rich, alluring silences when thought met thought and not a word was spoken! Here was the perfect Latin — realist, poet, dreamer, worker and lover. Here, indeed, was the man of men, the great one, controller of her destiny.
Happy and at peace though she was under Azzolino's domination, for it amounted to that, one weakness in her character was fostered by his influence. She had never really loved her country, and her persistent demands for more revenue in the face of the tragic situation in Sweden, the fierce insistence on her rights, were encouraged by the Cardinal, who had no objection to fleecing a Protestant country which had tried, but failed, to subdue Catholic Poland.
In 1659 Sweden was without allies, at war with the Empire, Poland, Denmark and Russia. Charles Gustavus, always at the head of his troops, led them through stirring feats of war, but failure dogged the gallant leader. There was the historic march of the entire army over the frozen Baltic in February, 1658, when, Terlon, the French Ambassador, who accompanied Charles, says: "It was horror to walk at night across the frozen sea; the horses' tramping had thawed the snow so that the water rose one or two feet on the ice; every moment we feared to find the sea open somewhere to engulf us." Though the Danes sued for peace after this almost miraculous invasion and a pact was made, it was soon broken, and fighting became so ferocious that the Dutch fleet intervened on behalf of Denmark, and an English fleet arrived to attempt mediation. The English Ambassador, Algernon Sidney, called on Charles at his camp and annoyed him by trying to dictate terms. So did the Dutch Ambassador. But almost simultaneously these two fleets were called away, the Dutch to transport Danish armies to a defeat of the Swedish troops elsewhere, and the English to take part in the restoration of King Charles II of England. Charles Gustavus, undaunted, began to raise more troops and funds at Gothenburg. In the midst of these preparations he died quite suddenly of a fever, aged thirty-seven, on February 13, 1660.
Charles was dead! The worst, from Christina's point of view, had happened. The news, which took two months to reach Rome, shattered the Riario idyll. However unsatisfactory her cousin's efforts may have been to meet her demands, they were at least efforts — she had known that his goodwill was there. But now — who was there to care for her interests? Who, indeed, that was not indifferent or actively hostile? The new King was only five years old [sic]. There would be a regency as in her own day. Of whom would it consist? The sinister figure of Magnus de la Gardie loomed. As uncle by marriage to the young King[,] he was sure to hold high office, and there was not much doubt that his revengeful spirit had already been at work against her.
The peaceful existence at Riario had in truth begun to pall, in spite of entertainments, academies and the ever-present and ever-more adored Azzolino; and the death of Charles made it really imperative that she should set out again on her feverish travels. There were no two opinions about it, she must go to Hamburg, if not to Stockholm, and preparations went forward at once for her departure with a small suite.
The pretext upon which she had sent Santinelli to Vienna was, after all, a genuine one. She really had contemplated leading an imperial army into her own province of Pomerania, if the Emperor would provide it for her. Then she would enjoy the revenue from this unhappy[,] devastated land, and it should revert to the Emperor at her death. This blow aimed at her native land could only have been inspired by pique at Charles's apparent neglect, and the affair had so far developed that she had been already making tentative arrangements to go to Hamburg and meet an emissary from the Emperor, even, though she did not know it, after the death of Charles.
She set forth from Rome in July, 1660, having borrowed twenty thousand crowns on her jewellery from the Pope, who gave her a short, frosty audience of congé. Azzolino was left in charge of the Riario and all her affairs, and she took with her the Captain of her Guards, Lorenzo Adami, her doctor, Macchiati, three secretaries, Davidsson the Swede, the Abbé Santini and Benedetto Rossi, the invaluable Clairet Poisonnet and her two faithful Italian women, and a dozen or so domestics.
At Trent Horatio de Bourbon, Marquis del Monte, who was an exile from the Papal States, came to ask Christina for her protection. The Bourbons of Italy bore the arms of the royal family of France, and traced their pedigree back to Charlemagne. Their estates were in the Apennine Mountains, remotely inaccessible, the haunt of bandits whom rumour said were not merely protected by this noble impoverished family. However that may have been, the Marquis joined Christina's suite, travelled with her to Hamburg, and eventually became her Master of the Horse. A contemporary portrait of him describes him as "a proper man of handsome Shape; had a large Face, hollow Eyes, a hooked Nose, a large Mouth and a forked Chin. He was nervous and of a strong Constitution, having his Body Hairy, his Knees turning outward and his Feet inward; a Person very sensible, but more inclined to Ill than Good; Passionate in Play, and knew all the Tricks and Cheats thereof. ... He knew when to Speak and when to be Silent ... was very brisk among the ladies, and spent much money upon them."
With this notable addition to her suite she arrived in Hamburg on the 18th of August. There was no envoy from Vienna waiting for her, and this was not surprising, as the Empire had made peace with Sweden on the 26th of April without consulting her. So the Pomeranian project ended in smoke. It did not matter, for she was now engrossed in the prospect of visiting Stockholm and had all sorts of surprises up her sleeve. Stockholm was quite prepared for this, and, not wanting any surprises, tried to persuade her not to come. The danger of Christina's presence at this critical period was fully realized by the Regency. The King was a delicate child, and if he did not live[,] the question of succession came up again, and it was well known in Sweden that Christina had an enormous following among her late subjects, and there was no knowing what she might not accomplish if she had a mind to return to the throne. She was capable of renouncing her faith if it suited her, and, if she did so, would remove the only serious obstacle to her reinstatement. Here they misjudged her, for the one rock she clung to through life was her faith.
She waited in Hamburg to hear how Sweden took the news of her intended visit. The response was not encouraging. The Governor-General of her Swedish domains, Bååt, regretted to inform her that the idea was not well seen, and Pierre Brahe[,] who had once refused to take the crown from her head, begged her to reconsider her plans.
But no one could prevent Christina from going to Sweden if she wanted to, and by the time these chilling messages arrived[,] her mind was warmly and unalterably fixed upon the journey. She took Terlon, the French Ambassador, with her, and in Denmark, the ink of the peace pact being scarcely dry as yet, and Christina an unknown quantity in the new Swedish situation, she was magnificently received by the King and his Queen, Sophie Amalie. The incident of a country inn some years ago was not mentioned. She was taken across to Helsingborg in the King's galley, which, after depositing her, was broken into a thousand pieces by a storm on the way back to Denmark. At Helsingborg she wrote to Brahe that she was in despair at not being able to follow his advice about coming to Sweden, but in short here she was, and with the best possible intentions. There was consternation in the Regency when the news came that she had really landed. A last effort to dissuade her from her purpose was made by one Marshal Linde, who was ostensibly sent to greet her in the name of the King at Halmstad, an early stage of her journey. His instructions were to use all possible diplomacy — suggest that there might be serious trouble if she persisted in visiting Stockholm. At this she was indignant and sent him about his business, pressing on with renewed determination towards Stockholm. The fighting blood of the Vasas was roused. Now let the Regency take heed!
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Above: Kristina.
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Above: Pope Alexander VII.
Above: Cardinal Decio Azzolino.
Above: Faith Compton Mackenzie.
Note: Princess Botero (Butera) = Margherita d'Austria Branciforte (1625-1660).
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