IV.
When her uncle and aunts were gone, Christina felt that there was nothing more to keep her at Brussels. She had already thought of retiring to her dower city of Tortona, but the castle was occupied by a Spanish garrison, and while the war lasted the Lombard city was hardly a safe place. This being the case, she asked Philip's leave to take up her residence at Vigevano, the summer palace of the Sforzas, which the Duke had bequeathed to her, but was told that this house was required for the Viceroy's use. After the Palatine's death she was seized with a longing to join Dorothea, and proposed to go to Heidelberg, and then on to Lorraine, in the hope that, now peace was signed, the French King would allow her son to enjoy his own again. But there were more difficulties in the way than she had anticipated.[513]
Simon Renard and the other delegates to the conference at Vaucelles were especially charged to include the Duke of Lorraine's restoration among their demands; but the French, while professing the utmost friendship for both the Duchess and her son, pointed out that her guardianship would expire in another year, and that the Regent Vaudemont and the Guises, who were the Duke's nearest kinsmen, agreed to his residence at the French Court. In vain Renard and Lalaing protested at the strange kindness shown to the Duchess in detaining her son. This only led to a long wrangle, which almost caused the rupture of peace negotiations, and eventually no mention was made of Lorraine in the articles of the truce.
In May Christina's alarm was aroused by an intimation from the French Court that the King was going to Nancy to celebrate his daughter Claude's wedding with the Duke, and occupy the capital of Lorraine. Fortunately, Vaudemont opposed this measure, saying that as Regent he had sworn never to give up his post until his nephew was of age, and begged the King to allow Charles to return to Nancy and take possession of his State before his marriage.[514] This unexpected firmness on Vaudemont's part produced the desired effect. Henry's journey to Lorraine was put off for a year, and at the Duchess's urgent request the Cardinal of Lorraine obtained the King's leave to bring the boy to meet her at the Castle of Coucy, near his own house at Péronne. But when Philip was asked to give the Duchess permission to cross the frontier, he made so many irksome conditions, that Henry withdrew his promise, and the long-desired meeting was again deferred. Christina was cruelly disappointed, and could only take comfort from Vaudemont's assurances that before long her son would be free from control and able to decide for himself.[515]
Oct., 1556] MARY'S JEALOUSY
Philip on his part was extremely anxious to keep the Duchess at Brussels. As Brantôme tells us, the King not only cherished great affection for his cousin, but relied implicitly on her tact and wisdom, and, in compliance with his entreaties, she consented to remain at the palace and do the honours of his Court.[516] Her popularity with the nobles made her presence the more desirable, while the King himself found her company far more to his taste than that of the faded and fretful wife who awaited him in England. Every post brought bitter reproaches and passionate prayers from the unhappy Queen, whose hopes of her lord's return were doomed to perpetual disappointment. Already more than a year had passed since he had left England, and there still seemed no prospect of his return. First the peace conferences, then the King of Bohemia's visit and the Emperor's departure, were pleaded as excuses for these prolonged delays. When the fleet that bore the Emperor to Spain was seen off Dover, the Admiral who visited His Majesty on board, brought back messages to say that the King would shortly cross the Channel. On hearing this, Mary's spirits rose, and it was only by Philip's express desire that she refrained from going to meet him at Dover. In October the royal stables and equerries arrived, but Philip himself wrote that the war which had broken out in Italy between Alva, the Viceroy of Naples, and Pope Paul IV., compelled him to return to Brussels. Then Mary broke into a passion of rage mingled with sobs and tears, and shut herself up in her room, refusing to see any visitors. The dulness of the Court had become intolerable; there were no fêtes and few audiences, and the Ambassadors with one accord begged to be recalled. The Queen's ill-temper vented itself on all who approached her presence, and even in public she occasionally gave way to paroxysms of fury.[517] Suspicions of her husband's fidelity to his marriage vows now came to increase her misery. When she heard of Philip going on long hunting-parties with the Duchess of Lorraine, and dancing with her at masques, she was seized with transports of rage, and, rushing at the portrait of her husband which hung over her bed, was with difficulty restrained from cutting it to pieces.[518]
Dec., 1556] THE DUCHESS OF PARMA
Meanwhile a rival to Christina appeared at Court in the person of the King's half-sister Margaret, Duchess of Parma. This Princess, the illegitimate daughter of Charles V. and Margaret Van Gheynst, a beautiful maiden in the Countess Lalaing's service, was born at Oudenarde in 1522, and brought up under the eye of the Archduchess Margaret. At thirteen she was married to Alessandro de' Medici, Duke of Florence, with whom she led a miserable life until this worthless Prince was murdered by his cousin in 1537. Her second union, with Ottavio Farnese, Pope Paul III.'s grandson, proved little happier. Ottavio was an intractable boy of thirteen when he married her in November, 1538, and the quarrels of the young couple fill pages of the Emperor's correspondence in the archives of Simancas. After the Duke's return from the expedition to Algiers, a reconciliation was effected, and Margaret bore a son, who became the famous captain Alexander of Parma. But the Farnese were always a thorn in the Emperor's side, and, by joining with his foes at a critical moment, involved him in the gravest disaster of his life. Now harmony was restored in the family circle, and when the war with Paul IV. broke out, Philip secured Ottavio's alliance by giving him the citadel of Piacenza. Margaret and her young son came to the Netherlands to pay their respects to the King and thank him for this mark of his favour. They arrived at Christmas, in the depths of the severest winter that had been known for many years. The Scheldt was frozen over at Antwerp, and the Court was busy with winter sports, in which Philip and Christina took an active part, playing games and sleighing in the park, and attending a masked ball given by Count Lalaing on the ice.[519]
The Duchess of Parma was received with due honour at Court, and was cordially welcomed by Christina, who had known her as a child. A handsome woman of thirty-five, she resembled her Flemish mother more than her imperial father, and bore few traces of her Habsburg origin. She had none of Christina's distinction and refinement, while her manners were too haughty to please the Flemish nobles. But she had a keen eye to her own interests, and the atmosphere of deception and intrigue in which her married life had been spent had taught her to adapt herself to circumstances. She contrived to make herself agreeable both to Philip and Christina, with whom most of her time was spent. The new Venetian Ambassador, Soranzo, paid his respects to the two ladies on his arrival, and found both of them very friendly and pleasant. The Duchess of Lorraine, as Badoer had frequently remarked, was always particularly cordial to the Venetian Signory, to whom her first husband, the Duke of Milan, owed so much. At the same time the Queen of England, anxious to show civility to her husband's family, sent Sir Richard Shelley to give the Duchess of Parma a sisterly welcome, and invite her to come to London.[520]
In the midst of the Christmas festivities, news reached Brussels of a treacherous attempt of the French, under Coligny, to surprise Douay. Fortunately the plot was discovered in time; but the truce was broken, and every day fresh incursions were made by the French, which naturally produced reprisals. The rupture was complete, and, in his anxiety to secure the help of England in the coming struggle, the King at length crossed the Channel, and joined Mary at Greenwich on the 21st of January, 1557. Political exigencies had done more to hasten his return than all his wife's prayers and tears, but in her joy she recked little of this, and guns were fired and Te Deums chanted throughout the realm. Before leaving Brussels, Philip had made arrangements for the two Duchesses to follow him in a few days. Their society, he felt, would help to dispel the gloom of Mary's Court, and Margaret's coming would allay any jealousy which Christina's visit might excite. Another and more important motive for his cousin's presence in England at this moment was his anxiety to revive the old scheme of a marriage between the Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Savoy. Mary's state of health made her sister's marriage a matter of the highest importance, and the new quarrel with France had put an end to the Duke's hopes in that quarter. As both the French and Venetian Ambassadors constantly affirmed, Emanuel Philibert was the only foreign Prince whom the English would tolerate, and Christina herself told Vaudemont that she was going to England, by the King's wish, to bring back Madame Elizabeth as the Duke of Savoy's bride.[521]
PHILIP II. (1554)
By Jacopo da Trezzo (British Museum)
MARY, QUEEN OF ENGLAND (1554)
By Jacopo da Trezzo (British Museum)
MARGARET OF AUSTRIA
DUCHESS OF PARMA
By Pastorino
ANTOINE PERRENOT
CARDINAL GRANVELLE
By Leone Leoni
To face p. [412]
Feb., 1557] CHRISTINA AT WHITEHALL
The King had a calm passage to Dover, but the ladies were less fortunate, for an equinoctial gale sprang up when they were halfway across the Channel.
"The Duchesses," wrote Philip's secretary, Jean de Courteville, "had to dance without music between Dover and Calais, and the results were such as are commonly the case with travellers unaccustomed to the sea. The great festivities we are having here this Lent will grieve them the less."[522]
But if the passage was disagreeable, nothing was lacking in the kindness of their reception. The Queen sent her litter to meet them at Dover, with chariot and hackney horses for their suite, and at Gravesend, Lady Lennox and Lady Kildare were waiting to conduct them in the royal barge to Whitehall. Here Philip received them at the water-gate, and led them up the steps into the great hall, where Mary welcomed her guests. The King and Queen who had only arrived from Greenwich the day before rode in state through the city, with the Lord Mayor carrying the sceptre at the head of the guilds and crafts of London, while a salute was fired from the Tower and bells rang from all the churches.
Both the Duchesses were lodged in the Palace of Westminster, Christina in rooms on the ground-floor, looking on the gardens, and Margaret in an apartment on the upper floor, commanding a view of the Thames.[523] Soon after their arrival another visitor was brought by the Bishop of London to see Their Majesties—an Envoy from the Czar of Muscovy, who was lodged in Fenchurch Street, as the guest of the Company of Muscovite Merchants. Englishmen and Spaniards, Lorrainers and Italians, alike looked with curious eyes at this stranger from the shores of the Polar Sea, who was clad in robes of Oriental splendour, and whose turban glittered with gems. He brought the Queen a present of magnificent sables from the Czar, and saluted her by bowing his whole body down and touching the ground with his hand. In spite of his strange clothes and barbarous language, he was a cultivated person, as keen to see the sights of London as Christina herself. One day he dined with the Lord Mayor in gorgeous attire, another he attended Mass at Westminster and saw St. Edward's shrine, with the relics which had been fortunately preserved when the Abbey was plundered.[524]
April, 1557] ST. GEORGE'S FEAST
After spending a fortnight at Whitehall, Philip and Mary took their guests to spend Easter at Greenwich. On Maundy Thursday the King and Queen washed the feet of a number of poor beggars, and blessed the cramp rings, which were as much prized in Spain and Flanders as in England. Easter Day witnessed fresh balls and banquets, dog and bear fights, bull-baiting and horse-races, after which a large hunting-party was given in the park for the Duchess of Lorraine's amusement. On the 22nd of April the royal party returned to Whitehall for St. George's Feast. High Mass was celebrated in the Abbey by the Bishop of Winchester, and all the Knights of the Garter, in their mantles of royal blue, walked in procession round the inner court of the palace, while the Queen and her guests looked on from a window on the garden side. The King and Queen and all the Knights of the Order attended vespers in the Abbey, after which the Muscovite Envoy came to take leave of Their Majesties, and delivered a long farewell speech, which was translated by an interpreter into English and Spanish, expressing his hope that these mighty Sovereigns might live to see their children's children. Six English ships were in readiness to escort the stranger across the Northern seas, and prevent him falling into the hands of the Norsemen, who were jealous of English interference with the trade of Muscovy.
On Sunday the Queen gave a grand banquet, and appeared resplendent in cloth of gold and jewels. Christina sat on her right, and Margaret, with her little son, on the King's left hand. The next morning the Duchess of Parma left for Italy, but Christina, at Philip's entreaty, remained in London another ten days. She was already very popular with the English, and made friends with Lord Arundel, Lord Pembroke, and several other nobles and ladies at Court, while her splendid robes and jewels, her numerous suite and fine horses, excited general admiration. In the midst of the Court fêtes, she found time to visit several shrines and places of interest, and, while the King was holding the Chapter of the Garter on St. George's Day, went by water to the Tower, and was shown its treasures and antiquities. But in one respect her visit proved a failure. Mary refused to entertain any idea of the Savoy marriage, and would not even allow Christina a glimpse of Princess Elizabeth, who was kept at Hatfield in strict seclusion during her visit. What was worse, the Duchess's presence revived all the Queen's jealousy, and, in spite of the King's protests, Christina found it prudent to hasten her departure. All manner of stories about Mary's dislike of the Duchess found their way to the French Court, and King Henry had many jokes with Soranzo on the subject, and told him he heard that the Queen flew into a frantic passion when the King led out his cousin to dance at Greenwich.[525]
Philip did his best to atone for his wife's ill-humour, and, when Christina expressed a wish to visit Ghent on her return, wrote to ask the Duke of Savoy to see that she and her daughters were well lodged and entertained in the old Prinzenhof. On the 11th of May the Duchess wrote a formal letter of thanks to the Queen from Dover, acknowledging the attentions which she had received from Her Majesty and all her subjects, and on the 8th of June she sent her a second letter from Ghent, on behalf of the widow and daughter of Sir Jacques de Granado, a Brabant gentleman who had been Equerry to Henry VIII. and Edward VI., and had met his death by accident during the Duchess's visit. As he rode into the privy garden at Whitehall before the Queen's chariot, his bridle broke, the horse shied violently, and dashed his rider's head against the wall. Sir Jacques was killed on the spot, and buried at St. Dunstan's in the East two days afterwards with a great display of torches and escutcheons. On Christina's recommendation, the Queen granted a pension of £50 to the widow, and saw that she and her children were amply provided for.[526]
June, 1557] THE VICTORY OF ST. QUENTIN
From Ghent the Duchess went to meet her sister Dorothea at Jülich, the Court of the Duke of Cleves and the Archduchess Maria. The reformed faith was now firmly established in the Palatinate, and Dorothea's well-known Lutheran leanings were a great source of annoyance to her own family. "The Electress Dorothea," wrote Badoer from Brussels in 1557, "is known to be a Lutheran and against the Emperor, and is as much hated here as her sister Christina is beloved." From his retreat at St. Yuste, Charles begged Philip to invite Dorothea to settle at Brussels, "lest one of our own blood should openly forsake the faith." When the Princess declined this proposal, Philip and Arras desired Christina to use her influence to bring her sister to a better mind. But Dorothea resisted all these attempts obstinately, and went back to Neuburg to live among her husband's kindred and worship God in her own way.[527]
On the 1st of June England declared war against France, and Philip returned to Brussels, having accomplished the object of his journey. Here he was joined by the Duchess of Lorraine and the Count of Vaudemont, who came to Flanders to try and reopen peace negotiations. But the moment, as Arras told him, was singularly inopportune, since Philip was armed to the teeth and had England at his back. On the 11th of August the King left Brussels for the camp before St. Quentin, where he arrived just too late to claim a share in the brilliant victory gained by the Duke of Savoy and Egmont over the French on St. Lawrence's Day. The Constable Montmorency, the Marshal St. André, Admiral Coligny, and the Rhinegrave, were among the prisoners made on this memorable day, together with all the guns and fifty-six colours. The news of this decisive victory was celebrated with great joy both in Brussels and across the Channel. Te Deum was sung in St. Paul's, and the loyal citizens of London lighted bonfires and sat up drinking through the livelong night; while in Paris the King and Queen went to Notre Dame in sackcloth, and Henry II. carried the Crown of Thorns in procession from the Sainte Chapelle. In the lonely monastery far away on the heights of Estremadura, the news sent a thrill to the great Emperor's heart, and he asked eagerly in what route his son was marching on Paris. Had Philip followed this course, had he, in Suriano's words, "taken Fortune at the flood," he might have brought the campaign to a triumphant close. But, with characteristic timidity, he confined himself to capturing St. Quentin, and then returned to Brussels, throwing away such an opportunity as comes but once a lifetime.[528]