I.
Christian II., King of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, as the proud title ran, was in many respects a remarkable man. His life and character have been the subject of much controversy. Some historians have held him up to admiration as a patriot and martyr who suffered for his love of freedom and justice. Others have condemned him as a cruel and vindictive tyrant, whose crimes deserved the hard fate which befell him. Both verdicts are justified in the main. On the one hand, he was an able and enlightened ruler, who protected the liberties of his poorer subjects, encouraged trade and learning, and introduced many salutary reforms. On the other, he was a man of violent passions, crafty and unscrupulous in his dealings, cruel and bloodthirsty in avenging wrongs. His career naturally invites comparison with that of Lodovico Sforza, whose son became the husband of his daughter Christina. Both Princes were men of great ability and splendid dreams. In their zeal for the promotion of commerce and agriculture, in their love of art and letters, both were in advance of the age in which they lived. Again, their vices and crimes, the cunning ways and unscrupulous measures by which they sought to attain their ends, were curiously the same. No doubt Christian II., born and bred as he was among the rude Norsemen, belonged to a coarser strain than the cultured Duke of Milan, and is hardly to be judged by the same standard. But the two Princes resembled each other closely, and the fate which eventually overtook them was practically the same. Both of these able and distinguished men lost their States in the prime of life, and were doomed to end their days in captivity. This cruel doom has atoned in a great measure for their guilt in the eyes of posterity, and even in their lifetime their hard fate aroused general compassion.
Jan., 1516] THE KING'S DOVE
Certainly no one could have foreseen the dismal fate which lay in store for Christian II. when he ascended the throne. Seldom has a new reign opened with fairer promise. His father, good King Hans, died in 1513, lamented by all his subjects, and leaving his successor a prosperous and united kingdom. Christian was thirty-two, and had already shown his courage and ability in quelling a revolt in Norway. A man of noble and commanding presence, with blue eyes and long fair hair, he seemed a born leader of men, while his keen intelligence, genial manners, and human interest in those about him, early won the affection of his subjects. Unfortunately his own passions proved his worst enemies. In Norway he had fallen in love with a beautiful girl named Dyveke—the Dove—whose mother, a designing Dutchwoman named Sigebritt Willems, kept a tavern at Bergen. On his accession he brought Dyveke and her mother to Hvidore, and gave them a house in the neighbourhood. This illicit connection excited great scandal at Court, and the Chancellor, Archbishop Walkendorf of Drondtheim, exhorted the King earnestly to put away his mistress on his marriage. Even before Isabella left Brussels, the Archbishop wrote glowing accounts of her beauty and goodness to his master, and told the King of the romantic attachment which she cherished for her unknown lord. After her arrival at Copenhagen he did his utmost to insure her comfort, and see that she was treated with proper respect.
For a time Christian seems to have been genuinely in love with his young wife, whose innocent charm won all hearts in her new home. In his anxiety to please her, he furnished his ancestral castle anew, and sent to Germany for musicians, fearing that the rude voices of Danish singers might sound harsh in her ears. A young Fleming, Cornelius Scepperus, was appointed to be his private secretary, and the Fuggers of Antwerp were invited to found a bank at Copenhagen. At the same time twenty-four Dutch families, from Waterland in Holland, were brought over in Danish ships, and induced to settle on the island of Amager, opposite the capital, in order that the royal table might be supplied with butter and cheese made in the Dutch fashion. This colony, imported by Christian II., grew and flourished, and to this day their descendants occupy Amager, where peasant women clad in the national costume of short woollen skirts, blue caps, and red ribbons, are still to be seen. Unfortunately, the influence which Sigebritt and her daughter had acquired over the King was too strong to be resisted. Before long they returned to Court, and, to the indignation of Isabella's servants, Sigebritt was appointed Mistress of her household. Rumours of the slights to which the young Queen was exposed soon reached the Netherlands, and when Maximilian informed Margaret that he intended to marry her niece Eleanor to the King of Poland, she replied with some asperity that she could only hope the marriage would turn out better than that of her unhappy sister. The Emperor expressed much surprise at these words, saying that he considered his granddaughter to be very well married, since the King of Denmark was a monarch of the proudest lineage, and endowed with noble manners and rare gifts, if his people were still somewhat rude and barbarous.[17] But, in spite of Maximilian's protests, the reports of King Christian's misconduct soon became too persistent to be ignored. When, in October, 1516, Charles, who had assumed the title of King of Spain on his grandfather Ferdinand's death, held his first Chapter of the Golden Fleece, the Knights with one accord refused to admit the King of Denmark to their Order, because he was accused of adultery and ill-treated his wife.[18] At length Maximilian was moved to take action, and wrote to his grandson Charles in sufficiently plain language, saying:
1513-23] ELEANOR'S ROMANCE
"The shameful life which our brother and son-in-law, the King of Denmark, is leading with a concubine, to the great sorrow and vexation of his wife, our daughter and your sister, is condemned by all his relatives; and in order to constrain him to abandon this disorderly way of living, and be a better husband to our said daughter, we are sending Messire Sigismund Herbesteiner to remonstrate with him, and have begged Duke Frederic of Saxony, his uncle, who arranged the marriage, to send one of his servants on the same errand. And we desire you to send one of your chief councillors to help carry out our orders, and induce the King to put away his concubine and behave in a more reasonable and honourable manner."[19]
But none of these remonstrances produced any effect on the misguided King. When Herbesteiner reproached him with sacrificing the laws of God and honour and the Emperor's friendship to a low-born woman, he shook his fist in the imperial Envoy's face, and bade him begone from his presence.[20] At the same time he showed his resentment in a more dangerous way by making a treaty with France and closing the Sound to Dutch ships. He even seized several trading vessels on pretence that the Queen's dowry had not been paid, and when Archbishop Walkendorf ventured to expostulate with him on his misconduct, banished the prelate from Court.[21]
Meanwhile Isabella herself bore neglect and insults with the same uncomplaining sweetness. But we see how much she suffered from a private letter which she wrote to her sister Eleanor about this time. This attractive Princess, who at the age of eighteen still remained unmarried, had fallen in love with her brother's brilliant friend, Frederic, Count Palatine, the most accomplished knight at Court, and the idol of all the ladies. The mutual attachment between the Palatine and the Archduchess was the talk of the whole Court, and met with Margaret's private approval, although it was kept a secret from Charles and his Ministers. Eleanor confided this romantic story to her absent sister, and expressed a secret hope that the popular Count Palatine might succeed her aunt as Regent when the young King left Brussels for Spain. In reply Isabella sent Eleanor the warmest congratulations on her intended marriage, rejoicing that her sister at least would not be forced to leave home, and would be united to a husband whom she really loved. The poor young Queen proceeded to lament her own sad fate in the following strain:
"It is hard enough to marry a man whose face you have never seen, whom you do not know or love, and worse still to be required to leave home and kindred, and follow a stranger to the ends of the earth, without even being able to speak his language."[22]
1513-23] A LOVE-LETTER
She goes on to describe the misery of her life, even though she bears the title of Queen. What is she, in fact, but a prisoner in a foreign land? She is never allowed to go out or appear in public, while her lord the King spends his time in royal progresses and hunting-parties, and amuses himself after his fashion, apart from her. Far better would it be for Eleanor to follow her own inclination, and choose a husband who belongs to her own country and speaks her language, even if he were not of kingly rank. Unfortunately, the pretty romance which excited Isabella's sympathy was doomed to an untimely end. The death of Mary of Castille, Queen of Portugal, in May, 1517, left King Emanuel a widower for the second time. He had married two of Charles's aunts in turn, and was now over fifty, and a hunchback into the bargain. None the less, the plan of a marriage between him and his niece Eleanor was now revived, and in August these proposals reached the young King at the seaport of Middelburg, where he and his sister were awaiting a favourable wind to set sail for Spain. Filled with alarm, Frederic implored Eleanor to take a bold step, confess her love to Charles, and seek his consent to her marriage with his old friend. In a letter signed with his name, and still preserved in the Archives of Simancas, the Palatine begged his love to lose no time if she would escape from the snare laid for them both by "the Uncle of Portugal."
"Ma mignonne," he wrote, "si vous voulez, vous pouvez être la cause de mon bien ou de mon mal. C'est pourquoi je vous supplie d'avoir bon courage pour vous et pour moi. Cela peut se faire si vous voulez. Car je suis prêt, et ne demande autre chose, sinon que je sois à vous, et vous à moi."[23]
Accordingly, on the Feast of the Assumption Eleanor approached her brother after hearing Mass in the abbey chapel. But while she was gathering all her courage to speak, Charles caught sight of the Palatine's letter in her bosom, and, snatching it from his sister's hands, broke into furious reproaches, swearing that he would avenge this insult with the traitor's blood. As Spinelli, the English Envoy, remarked, "The letter was but honest, concerning matters of love and marriage,"[24] but the young King would listen to no excuses, and, in spite of the Regent's intervention, Frederic was banished from Court in disgrace. A fortnight later Charles and his sister sailed for Castille, and in the following summer Madame Leonore became the bride of "l'Oncle de Portugal," King Emanuel.