Source:
Memoirs of celebrated female sovereigns, volume 1, pages 80 to 83, by Anna Brownell Jameson, 1831; original at the University of Toronto
The biography:
Christina returned to Rome [sic]; but the remembrance of France, and the gaieties and festivities which had distinguished her reception there, the honours which had been paid to her, and the curiosity and admiration she had excited, had apparently left a strong impression on her fancy. Within a few months, she found some pretext for repeating her visit, and reached Fontainebleau on the 15th of October 1657; no longer conducted by the Duke de Guise, nor welcomed by royal pomp, nor followed by admiring or wondering crowds of the noble, the learned, or the gay [cheerful], but in "an old worn-out vehicle, an old yellow petticoat, an old red jacket, and a dirty hood." She was accompanied by the Chevalier Santinelli, who bore the title of Captain of her guards; and the Marquis Monaldeschi, her Grand Ecuyer or Chamberlain. She was lodged in the Palace of Fontainebleau; and here, about a fortnight after her arrival[,] she enacted that horrible tragedy, which, upon consideration of all the circumstances, seems to afford additional proof that this extraordinary woman was really disordered in her intellects.
It appears that she had reason to suspect Monaldeschi of having betrayed her interests, or at least her secrets; but her reasons for doubting him, and the nature of the trust reposed in him, have never been explained. Having satisfied herself of the justice of her suspicions, she resolved to put him to death, and executed her resolve with the most deliberate barbarity.
On the 6th of November she sent for Père le Bel, the Prior of a neighbouring convent, and placed in his hands a sealed packet of papers. They were standing together in an apartment called the Gallerie des Cerfs, and she desired him to note the day, the hour, and the place in which she had given him these papers. Four days after, the monk was again sent for, and in the same gallery found the queen, with Monaldeschi, Santinelli, and two others. She desired Père le Bel to produce the packet she had formerly given him, and unfolding the letters, turned to Monaldeschi and asked him whether he knew them? The letters were copies and he denied them, but with a faltering voice; she immediately produced the originals in his own hand-writing and held them up before him. The unfortunate man, who read his fate in her countenance, fell on his knees and entreated mercy; at the same moment Santinelli and the others drew their swords. Monaldeschi hung upon her dress, and shedding a flood of tears endeavoured to move her to compassion. The queen, without reply, turned quietly to the monk, "Father", said she, "bear witness that I give this man time and opportunity to justify himself, if possible." She then listened calmly to Monaldeschi for about an hour and a quarter, but neither his excuses nor his supplications for mercy appeared to make the slightest impression upon her. She desired Père le Bel to confess and absolve the unhappy culprit, and turned away: the monk ventured to implore her compassion, urging her by every motive of humanity, religion, and even policy, to change her fatal resolve; he represented that the French king would never forgive an act of such cruelty committed within the precincts of his own palace. The queen listened with the same cool self-possession, but remained inflexible, and retired to an adjoining room, while the three executioners, or rather assassins, fell upon Monaldeschi, and put him to death by repeated wounds. He wore a cuirass under his dress [outer clothing], and defended himself with the strength of despair, so that his death was not immediate; and the queen remained coolly listening to the fatal struggle, and to his cries and supplications for mercy, till all was over; she then desired the body to be interred in the convent of Père le Bel, to whom she gave two hundred franks to pray for the soul of Monaldeschi.
This terrible act of private vengeance, this violation of all law, all justice, all human pity, excited the utmost astonishment and horror. Christina, insisting on her divine rights, and her exemption as a queen from all responsibility and all human control, did not even condescend to justify what she had done. The king merely requested that she would not for the present leave Fontainebleau to proceed to Paris, but he did not order her to quit his kingdom, nor did he make any public complaint of her conduct. After remaining at Fontainebleau for about two months in a species of exile, she was at length invited to Paris to celebrate the Carnival, and again lodged in the Louvre; but the mania with which she had formerly inspired the Parisians was at an end; they criticised and ridiculed her dress and manners, and the murder of Monaldeschi was neither forgotten nor pardoned. After a stay at Paris of about six weeks, she was obliged to understand the various hints which were given for her speedy departure, and returned to Rome.
Above: Kristina condemns Monaldeschi to die, painted by Johan Fredrik Höckert.
Above: Anna Brownell Jameson.
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