Source:
Christina, Queen of Sweden, pages 198 to 209, by Francis William Bain, 1890; original at the University of Connecticut Library
Kristina's famous letter of December 5/15 (Old Style) to Magnus de la Gardie is here:
Magnus's letter of November 28/December 8 (Old Style), 1653 to Axel Oxenstierna, is here:
Kristina's letter to Axel Oxenstierna, written sometime in early or mid-December 1653, is here:
Oxenstierna's reply to her, of December 22, 1653/January 1, 1654 (Old Style), is here:
His letter of December 24, 1653/January 3, 1654 (Old Style), to his son Erik Oxenstierna is here:
The account:
The opposition between Christina and the Chancellor had arisen from, and depended upon, their antagonistic view of the proper policy to be followed in settling the affairs of Germany. Having gained her object in the Peace of Westphalia, this cause of difference ceased to exist, especially as she had now long since established her independent position. In view, too, of her resignation, she was desirous of standing well with all parties in the State; and hence, as the factitious party formed by her for a special end, to oppose that of the Chancellor, began to fall to pieces, being no longer required, the influence of Oxenstiern and the aristocracy began once more to regain its old position. This was agreeable to the nobles, who therefore strongly opposed any scheme of abdication in favour of Prince Charles, carefully though he paid his court to all; he himself, on the other hand, and then the generals of the army, who looked forward to a war, were prepared to support it. To these belonged Count Magnus, who depended either on the Queen or on the Prince, and was hated by the nobles for his connection with France. His position was now becoming ambiguous. Christina's new relations with Pimentelli, and the comparative shelving of himself and the French, as he thought, gave him cause for great uneasiness. He began to suspect his favour was declining, and sought to remedy this by expostulating with her, accusing her of allowing herself to be influenced against him by backbiters. His petulant suspicions irritated her to an extreme degree, partly because they assumed her capable of such meanness, partly because they seemed to imply he had claims upon her. In spite of all that has been said to her disadvantage, there is not the shadow of a proof that she ever regarded him from any other point of view than that of a patron, and the summary way she dismissed him, as one of her biographers has said, is clear evidence that she never was anything else to him. The base character of De la Gardie, who never lost a chance of damaging her afterwards, would have caught at any straw in his power to blacken her reputation in order to save his own. During the whole time he was in favour, he was not two years in all at Court; and the facts now to be related will show that Christina saw through him long before the crash came, through his own folly.
Already, as has been noticed, the Count fixed his suspicions on Bourdelot as the author of his declining influence; he complained to the Queen of him, who told him she did not believe him; and Bourdelot himself happening to come by, "told her Majesty that he knew well he had many enemies at Court, who endeavoured to ruin him in the opinion of the great, but that no one would ever be able to prove that he had spoken to any one's detriment." The Count produced two witnesses; but in the presence of the Queen they did not dare to charge Bourdelot to his face with their accusations, and the Queen declared they were impostors. She forbade them to appear again in her sight, saying "they were all French, and creatures of the Count."
Finding that he had only done himself harm by this attempt, De la Gardie demanded permission to retire from Stockholm to his country house, which the Queen refused, telling him that his presence was necessary on business (he was Grand Treasurer at the time). Soon after this the Count finally ruined himself by a somewhat similar endeavour.
Having to speak to the Queen, on matters connected with the state of the finances, one day after a meeting of the Senate she retained him alone with her. The Count immediately began to harangue her on her present misinterpretation of his sentiments, and regretted that she should have complained of him, saying "that he had acted treacherously towards her, but that she would not punish him for his bad faith herself, but leave it to the Prince to do so; yet would not be displeased should others affront him;" this he said he had learned from some one very near her Majesty's person, who told him he had it from her Majesty's own mouth. The Queen, much surprised, told him he ought to know her better than to suppose her capable of such a thing, ... and she bade him tell her who was his informant. He said it was Steinberg, her chief Equerry. "I cannot believe it", said the Queen, "he is a man of too much honour to tell such lies." She averred that if Steinberg allowed he had said it, she would admit having made the complaint. Accordingly, Steinberg and some senators were summoned from the antechamber by the Queen herself, who told him what the Count had said, and bade him say whether he acknowledged it. Steinberg replied he was astonished that Count Magnus, for whom he had always had respect and affection, should calumniate him to the Queen and seek his ruin in this way; he solemnly swore he had never heard her Majesty say any such thing. ... The Queen, satisfied with Steinberg's disavowal, and feeling pity for the Count, did not wish to proceed any further in the matter; but Steinberg considered it concerned his own honour to know who had told this to the Count, and the Queen approved his judgment, not sorry to see that he wished to sift the matter, as she was beginning to get tired of the Count's repeated attempts to prejudice her against others. Accordingly Steinberg went to the Count's house, and begged him to give him the name of the person who had slandered him; the Count, with profuse apologies, said he was quite willing to take his word for it, that his informant was a rascal. This did not satisfy Steinberg, but as he could not induce De la Gardie to disclose his authority, he went to the Queen to beg her to interfere. Christina sent Prince Adolphus to require the Count to give his informant's name; but the latter begged to decline to do so, as he had promised to keep his name a secret. The Queen sent the Prince to him again, telling him that he must; she had taken upon her to defend Steinberg's honour. Count Magnus thereupon declared, after deprecating any disgrace for him, that it was Schlippenbach, Colonel and Grand Seneschal at Stockholm. The Queen bade him write to him, as she would herself, to come to Upsala. "The Count wrote him a rigmarole which no one could understand." Schlippenbach came immediately; the day after[,] the Count sent him four friends to ask him whether he would not maintain that Steinberg had said the thing. He said positively, "No; he saw well that they were trying to ruin him; but he would speak the truth to her Majesty, and show himself a man of honour." On December 18, the Queen summoned Schlippenbach, Count Magnus, Steinberg, the senators, and the other chief men in the Court, who had been present before. She made a speech on the whole question, and told the Count to restate the matter alleged to have come from Schlippenbach; she then took the latter by the button of his doublet, and said to him, "Understand that I am prepared to own it, if Steinberg says I said it." Schlippenbach answered, that he did not know what Count Magnus meant; that he had never told him what he alleged; that Steinberg had never spoken to him of it, nor he himself to the Count, of Steinberg: except that once, dining with the Count, he had said to him, that it was obvious the Queen no longer had the same esteem for him as formerly, and that Steinberg was in great favour; on which point the Count had often spoken to him, as a thing he could not bear. The Count thereupon told him he was a rascal, and lied like a Schelm. Schlippenbach answered he was himself a man of honour, but as to the Count, he was not acting like an honourable man. The Count said it was true there were no witnesses, because the affair had taken place in private: Schlippenbach protested he had never spoken to him tête-à-tête, on which the Count fell into great confusion. The Queen, taking pity on him, said this was a matter which did not concern her, and withdrew. The Count sent to beg permission to bring Schlippenbach to justice: the Queen replied, such a course would only end in his own confusion. After dinner on the same day, the Count, through Prince Adolphus, begged her to let him go into the country to settle his domestic affairs, not to suffer Schlippenbach at the Court, and not to speak of the matter to his disadvantage. The Queen, astonished at these demands, sent to him to say, she not only permitted but ordered him to leave town, and go wherever he chose, except to her Court, to which he was not to return till he had cleared himself to his honour; as for Schlippenbach, she could not think of it; as to his third demand, he might console himself in his disgrace by the thought that, had she not retained some goodwill towards him, severer measures would have been used; all she could do for him was to pity his self-inflicted misfortune. The Count, though he ought to have gone that evening, waited till the next day, in hopes she might relent; finding she did not, he sent her a letter by Prince Adolphus, which she read twice, saying each time, "Poor Count!" She sent no answer, and the Count departed on the following day to a country house ten leagues from Stockholm. He was dissuaded from challenging Schlippenbach by the representations of the nobles, that being the fifth man in the Senate, the inequality of rank forbade it. Subsequently he wrote to the Queen, and received the following crushing reply: —
"SIR,
"As you express a wish to see me again after your disgrace, I am obliged to 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 listening to it, and which ought to convince you, too, that the interview is useless to your repose. It is not for me to bring remedies for your misfortune: it is to yourself you must look for the reparation of your honour. What can you hope from me? or what can I do, except pity you and blame you? The friendship I had for you compels me to do both; and whatever indulgence I have had for you, I cannot, without giving myself the lie, pardon you the crime you have committed against yourself. Do not imagine I am angry with you — I assure you I am not. I am henceforth incapable of feeling any other sentiment for you than that of pity, which can do you no good, since you have yourself rendered useless the sentiments of goodwill I had for you. 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 are given to suppose. After what you have done and suffered, dare you show yourself to me? You make me feel ashamed when I think how many base actions you have stooped to, how often you have submitted to those whom you have so grievously injured. In this unfortunate affair, no spark of magnanimity or generosity has appeared in your conduct. Were I capable of repenting, I should regret having ever contracted a friendship with a soul so feeble as yours; but this weakness is unworthy of me, and, having always acted as reason dictated, 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 that I have always blindly taken 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 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 submission will ever force me to yield a hair's-breadth. The only favour I can do for you is to remember you but little, and speak of you less; being determined never to mention you except to blame you. For I ought to show you that you are unworthy of my esteem after a fault like yours. That is all I had to do for you. Remember, however, 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, Dec. 5, 1653."
Throughout the whole of this narration the native baseness of the Count is clearly seen. And when we remember that the Count's household were nearly all French, and that he was especially connected with the French interests, we have the solution of many a slander directed against the Queen in later years. Even he did not venture to apply again to Christina directly, but great efforts were made by his friends to revoke her decision. Prince Charles wrote in his behalf, but Christina sent him an account of the transaction, and remained inflexible. Count Magnus actually applied to his old enemy the Chancellor, to get him to use his reviving influence with Christina; to which appeal Oxenstiern retorted, it is said, by quoting the words De la Gardie had in his sunny days used of the Chancellor, "that he doted, being already in his second childhood, and no longer capable of giving counsel", at the same time bidding him observe that he could now do nothing for him but bewail his misfortune. To the Queen, who wrote to appeal to his judgment, Oxenstiern replied that he approved her action, yet was inclined to mercy; to his son Eric he described the Count as having brought it upon himself, and as little capable of supporting bad as good fortune. Although the Senate interceded for him, Christina refused to alter her resolution; saying that on his accession the Prince might do what he liked, but that she did not wish to hear of him again. Count Magnus took the mean revenge of testifying his joy when he heard of her resolution to resign, and expected that Charles would restore him to favour as soon as he came to the throne; but the latter declared that his gratitude to Christina would never permit him to let any person approach him who had been in her bad graces. Notwithstanding, the Count did return, and was foremost in thwarting all Christina's wishes and projects in later years, as will be seen. He lived to display his baseness on a grander stage by taking bribes from Louis XIV., as Chancellor of Sweden, and contributing largely to the downfall and degradation of his country; but Nemesis overtook him under Charles IX. The state in which he closed his contemptible and consistent career is an ironical commentary on its brilliant outset, and furnishes an edifying instance of retributive justice such as history does not often afford.
Above: Kristina.
Above: Axel Oxenstierna.
Above: Magnus Gabriel de la Gardie.
Notes: Schelm = rogue (skälm).
"The Italics are ours." - Bain
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