Christina of Denmark, Duchess of Milan and Lorraine, 1522-1590

Titian's friend, Pietro Aretino, was in constant correspondence with Count Massimiliano Stampa, who rewarded his literary efforts with gifts of gold chains, velvet caps, and embroidered doublets. "I shall be clad in your presents all through the summer months," he wrote in a letter, signing himself, "Your younger brother and devoted servant." Aretino was not only profuse in thanks to this noble patron, but sent him choice works of art, mirrors of Oriental crystal, medals engraved by Anichino, and, best of all, a little painting of the youthful Baptist clasping a lamb, "so life-like that a sheep would bleat at the sight of it."[106] The wily Venetian was exceedingly anxious to ingratiate himself with the Duke of Milan, and not only dedicated a "Paraphase" to him on his marriage, but, according to Vasari, painted portraits of both the Duke and Duchess. These pictures were reproduced by Campo in the "History of Cremona," which he published in 1585, while Christina was still living. The portrait of Francesco was at that time the property of the Milanese noble Mario Amigone, while that of Christina hung in the house of Don Antonio Lomboni, President of the Magistrates.[107] This last portrait was afterwards sent to Florence by order of the Grand-Duke Ferdinand, who married the Duchess's granddaughter, Christine of Lorraine.

Unfortunately, this precious portrait was afterwards sent to Madrid, where it is said to have perished in a fire. In Campo's engraving the youthful Duchess wears a jewelled cap and pearl necklace, with an ermine cape on her shoulders. Her serene air and thoughtful expression recall Holbein's famous picture, and give an impression of quiet happiness and content which agrees with all that we know of her short married life.

The change was great from Malines and Brussels, and Christina often missed her old playmates. But her simple, docile nature became easily accustomed to these new surroundings, and the affectionate little letters which she sent to her aunt and sister all breathe the same strain. "We are as happy and contented as possible," she writes to Dorothea; and when Camillo Ghilino was starting for Germany, she sends a few words, at her lord's suggestion, to be forwarded to Flanders, just to tell her aunt how much she loves and thinks of her.[109]

Certainly, when we compare her lot with that of her mother, and remember the hardships and sorrows which the young Queen had to endure, Christina may well have counted herself fortunate. Her husband treated his child-wife with the greatest kindness. Her smallest wish was gratified, her tastes were consulted in every particular. The rooms which she occupied in the Rocchetta, where his mother, Duchess Beatrice, had lived, were hung with rich crimson velvet; the walls of her bedroom were draped with pale blue silk; a new loggia was built, looking out on the gardens and moat waters. The breaches which French and Spanish guns had made in the walls were repaired, and the Castello resumed its old aspect. Three state carriages, lined with costly brocades and drawn by four horses draped with cloth of gold, were prepared by the Duke for his wife, and were first used by the Duchess on Ascension Day, when, ten days after her wedding, she made her first appearance in public. As she drove to the Duomo, followed by the Legate and Ambassadors, and escorted by a brilliant cavalcade of nobles, the streets were thronged with eager crowds, who greeted her with acclamation, and waited for hours to catch a sight of her face. On Corpus Christi, again, a few weeks later, the Duke and Duchess both came to see the long procession of Bishops and priests pass through the streets, bearing the host under a stately canopy from the Duomo to the ancient shrine of S. Ambrogio.

The popularity of the young Duchess soon became unbounded. Her tall figure, dark eyes, and fair hair, excited the admiration of all her subjects, while her frank and kindly manners won every heart. Although prices went up in Milan that year, and the tolls on corn and wine were doubled, the people paid these dues cheerfully, and, when they sat down to a scanty meal, remarked that they must pay for Her Excellency's dinner.[110] Fortunately, by the end of the year there was a considerable fall in prices, and a general sense of relief and security prevailed.

To the Duke himself, as well as to his people, the coming of the Duchess brought new life. For a time his failing health revived in the sunshine of her presence. He threw himself with energy into the task of beautifying Milan and completing the façade of the Duomo. At the same time he employed painters to decorate the Castello and Duomo of Vigevano, and an illuminated book of the Gospels, adorned with exquisite miniatures and bearing his arms and those of the Duchess, may still be seen in the Brera.

Hunting-parties were held for Christina's amusement both at Vigevano and in Count Massimiliano's woods at Cussago. Madame de Souvastre and most of the Duchess's Flemish attendants had returned to the Netherlands with De Praet, and Francesco took great pains to provide his wife with a congenial lady-in-waiting. His choice fell on Francesca Paleologa, a lady of the noble house of Montferrat, and cousin of the newly-married Duchess of Mantua. Her husband, Constantine Comnenus, titular Prince of Macedonia, had served under the Pope and Emperor; and her daughter, Deianira, had lately married Count Gaspare Trivulzio, a former partisan of the French, who was now a loyal subject of the Duke. From this time the Princess of Macedonia became Christina's inseparable companion, and remained devotedly attached to the Duchess throughout her long life. At the same time Francesco appointed one of his secretaries, Benedetto da Corte of Pavia, to be master of the Duchess's household, and to teach her Italian, which she was soon able to speak and write fluently.

The Milanese archives contain several charming little notes written in Christina's large, round hand to the Duke during a brief visit which he paid to Vigevano, for change of air, in the summer of 1535:

Francesco's health had lately given fresh cause for anxiety. He suffered from catarrh and fever, and was frequently confined to his bed. A Pavian Envoy who had been promised an audience had to leave the Castello without seeing His Excellency, and a visit which he and the Duchess had intended to pay to Pavia in the spring was put off, to the great disappointment of the loyal citizens. Now his absence was prolonged owing to a fresh attack of illness, and the young wife wrote again at the end of the month, lamenting the delay and expressing the same impatience for his return:

But the warm-hearted young wife's wish remained unfulfilled, and four months after these lines were written Christina was a widow.

V.

The chief event of Christina's brief married life was the marriage of her elder sister, the Princess of Denmark. Dorothea was by this time an attractive girl of fourteen, shorter and slighter than her sister, and inferior to her in force of character, but full of brightness and gaiety. She was very popular in her old home at Malines, and often shot with a crossbow at the meetings of the Guild of Archers. Several marriages had been proposed for her, and King James of Scotland had repeatedly asked for her hand; but the Emperor hesitated to accept his advances, from fear of offending King Francis, whose daughter Magdalen had long been pledged to this fickle monarch, while the difficulty of providing a dower and outfit for another portionless niece, made Mary reluctant to conclude a second marriage. But, a few months after Christina's marriage, a new suitor for Dorothea's hand came forward in the person of the Count Palatine, who had vainly aspired to wed both Eleanor of Austria and Mary of Hungary. Frederic's loyal support of Charles's claims to the imperial crown, and his gallant defence of Vienna against the Turks, had been scurvily rewarded, and hitherto all his attempts to find another bride had been foiled. When, in 1526, after the King of Portugal's death, he approached his old love, the widowed Queen Eleanor, his advances were coldly repelled; and when he asked King Ferdinand for one of his daughters, he was told that she was too young for him. After Mary of Hungary's refusal, he left the Imperial Court in anger, and told Charles V. that he would take a French wife;[112] but Isabel of Navarre, Margaret of Montferrat, and the King of Poland's daughter, all eluded his efforts, and when he asked for Mary Tudor's hand, King Henry told him that he could not insult his good friend and cousin by offering him a bride born out of wedlock.[113] Now Ferdinand, unwilling to lose so valuable an ally, suddenly proposed that the Palatine should marry his niece Dorothea, saying that both he and Charles would rejoice to see him reigning over the three northern kingdoms. At first Frederic hesitated, saying that he was a grey-headed man of fifty, little fitted to be the husband of so young a lady, and had no wish to reign over the turbulent Norsemen. Mary, however, welcomed her brother's proposal, regarding it as a means of strengthening the Emperor's cause in Northern Europe. In Denmark the succession of Frederic's son Christian III. was disputed, and a Hanseatic fleet had seized Copenhagen, while Christopher of Oldenburg, a cousin of the captive King, had invaded Jutland. With the help of these allies it might be possible for the Palatine to recover his wife's inheritance. But the execution of this plan was full of difficulties, as Prince John's old tutor, the wise Archbishop of Lunden, told Charles V. in a letter which he addressed to him in the autumn of 1534:

The bait held out to the Palatine, however, proved too alluring, and he easily fell a victim to the snare. The Emperor sent him flattering messages by Hubert, the faithful servant who has left us so delightful a chronicle of his master's doings, and promised his niece a dowry of 50,000 crowns. It was late on New Year's Eve when Hubert reached his master's house at Neumarkt, on his return from Spain, and Frederic was already in bed; but he sent for him, and bade him tell his news in three words. The messenger exclaimed joyfully: "I bring my lord a royal bride, a most gracious Kaiser, and a sufficient dowry." Upon which the Palatine thanked God, and bade Hubert go to the cellar and help himself to food and drink.[115]

One of Charles's most trusted Flemish servants, Nicholas de Marnol, was now sent to Milan, to obtain the consent of the Duke and Duchess to Dorothea's marriage. After a perilous journey over the Alps in snow and floods, Marnol reached Milan on the 10th of January, 1535, and received a cordial welcome. Francesco approved warmly of a union which would insure the Princess's happiness and serve to confirm the peace of Germany, but quite declined to accept the Emperor's suggestion that he should help to provide a pension for Christina's brother-in-law, saying that this was impossible, and that His Majesty would be the first to recognize the futility of making promises which cannot be kept.

After a short stay at Milan, Marnol went on to Vienna, and advised the Palatine to go to Spain himself if he wished to settle the matter. Frederic, always glad of an excuse for a journey, travelled by way of Brussels and France to Saragossa, and accompanied the Emperor to Barcelona, where Charles signed the marriage contract on the eve of sailing for Africa.

On the 18th of May, 1535, the marriage was solemnized at Brussels, and Frederic consented to leave his bride with her aunt until her outfit was completed. Queen Eleanor expressed the liveliest interest in her old lover's marriage, and insisted on seeing Dorothea before she went to Germany. At length the wedding-party reached Heidelberg, on the 8th of September, where the gallant bridegroom, who, in Hubert's words, "loved to shine," rode out in rich attire to meet his bride, and escorted her with martial music and pomp worthy of a King's daughter to the famous castle on the heights. The next day the nuptial Mass was celebrated by the Bishop of Spires, and a series of splendid entertainments were given by Frederic's brother, the Elector Louis, after which the Count took his bride to his own home at Neumarkt, in the Upper Palatinate.[116]

"Now at length," wrote Hubert, "my lord thought that he had attained a haven of rest, and found a blessed end to all his troubles; but he was grievously mistaken, and soon realized that he had embarked on a new and tempestuous ocean."[117]

The splendid prospects of recovering his wife's kingdom were destined to prove utterly fallacious, and only involved him in heavy expenses and perpetual intrigues. The Emperor, as he soon discovered, "had no great affection for the enterprise of Denmark,"[118] and before long Copenhagen surrendered, and Charles and Mary were compelled to come to terms with Christian III. and acknowledge his title. Fortunately, in all other respects his marriage proved a happy one. Dorothea was greatly beloved by her husband's family and subjects, and made him a devoted wife, although, as Hubert soon found out, she was as great a spendthrift as her lord, and confessed that she was never happy until she had spent her last penny.[119] The very frivolity of her nature suited the volatile Count. She shared his love of adventure, and was always ready to accompany him on perilous journeys, to climb mountains or ford rivers, with the same unquenchable courage and gaiety of heart. Even when, in her anxiety to bear a child, she imitated the example of Frederic's mother, the old Countess Palatine, and went on pilgrimages and wore holy girdles, "this was done without any spirit of devotion, but with great mirth and laughter. And how little," adds the chronicler, "either pilgrimages or girdles profited her, we all know."[120]

VI.

Before the Palatine and his bride reached Heidelberg, Europe was thrilled by the news of the capture of Tunis, and the flight of the hated Barbarossa before his conqueror. It was the proudest moment of the Emperor's life. Twenty thousand Christian captives were released that day, and went home to spread the fame of their great deliverer throughout the civilized world. The news reached Milan on the 2nd of August, and was hailed with universal joy. Te Deums were chanted in the Duomo, bells were rung in all the churches, and the guns of the Castello boomed in honour of the great event. Camillo Ghilino was immediately sent by the Duke to congratulate the Emperor on his victory, and thank His Majesty once more for all the happiness which the generous gift of his niece had brought Francesco and his people.[121]

The late Pope, Clement VII., had already expressed his intention of rewarding Ghilino's services with a Cardinal's hat, and his successor, Paul III., would probably have kept his promise, but the Ambassador fell ill in Sicily, and died at Palermo in September, to the Duke's great sorrow.[122] Soon after receiving the news, Francesco himself fell ill of fever, and once more lost the use of his limbs. All through October he grew steadily worse, and by the end of the month the people of Milan learnt that their beloved Prince was at the point of death. On Monday, the Feast of All Saints, the public anxiety was at its height, and silent crowds waited all day at the gates of the Castello to hear the latest reports. At length, early in the morning of All Souls' Day, they learnt that the last Sforza Duke was no more. Christina watched by his bedside to the end, and wept bitterly, for, in the chronicler's words, "they had loved each other well."[123] All Milan shared in her grief, and nothing but sobbing and wailing was heard in the streets. Everyone lamented the good Duke, and grieved for the troubles and misery which his death would bring on the land. But the city remained tranquil, and there was no tumult or rioting. This was chiefly due to Stampa, who, by the Duke's last orders, took charge of the Duchess, and administered public affairs in her name, until instructions could be received from Cæsar.

A messenger was despatched without delay to the Emperor at Palermo, with letters from the Count and a touching little note from Christina, informing her uncle how her dear lord's weakness had gradually increased, until in the early morning he passed to a better life. The dead Prince lay in state for three days in the ducal chapel, clad in robes of crimson velvet and ermine, on a bier surrounded by lighted tapers. But the funeral was put off till the 19th of November, in order, writes the chronicler, to give the people time to show the love they bore their lamented master, and also because of the difficulty of obtaining sufficient black cloth to drape the walls of the Castello and put the Court in mourning. It was a sad time for the young widow. During three weeks not a ray of light was allowed to penetrate the gloom of the funereal hall where she sat with her ladies, while solemn requiems and Masses were chanted in the chapel.

It had been Francesco's wish to sleep with his parents in the Church of S. Maria delle Grazie, where the effigies of Lodovico and his lost Beatrice had been carved in marble. But when this became known there was a general outcry. The people would not allow their beloved Duke to be buried anywhere but in the Duomo with the great Francesco and the other Sforza Princes. So it was decided only to bury the Duke's heart in the Dominican church. His body was laid in a leaden casket covered with black velvet, and a wax effigy, wearing the ducal crown and robes, was exposed to public view.

Late on Friday, the 19th of November, an imposing funeral procession passed from the Castello to the Duomo, through the same streets which, only eighteen months before, had been decked in festive array to receive the late Duke's bride. First came the Bishops and clergy with candles and crosses, then the senators, magistrates, and nobles, wearing long black mantles and hoods. After them gentlemen bearing the ducal standard, cap, and baton, and Francesco's sword and helmet, and what moved the spectators more than all, the white mule which he had ridden daily, led by four pages, "looking just as it did when His Excellency was alive, only that the saddle was empty." Then the bier was carried past, under a gold canopy, and the wax effigy of the dead man, was seen clad in gold brocade and ermine, with a vest of crimson velvet and red shoes and stockings. Immediately behind rode the chief mourner, Giovanni Paolo Sforza, followed by Antonio de Leyva, the Imperial and Venetian Ambassadors, the Chancellor Taverna, Count Massimiliano Stampa, and the chief Ministers and officials. After them came a vast multitude of poor, all in mourning, bearing lighted tapers, and weeping as they went. A catafalque, surrounded with burning torches, had been erected in the centre of the Duomo, and here, under a canopy of black velvet, the Duke's effigy was laid on a couch of gold brocade, with his sword at his side and the ducal cap and baton at his feet—"a thing," says the chronicler, "truly marvellous to see."[124]

The next morning the funeral rites were celebrated in the presence of an immense concourse of people, and a Latin oration was delivered by Messer Gualtiero di Corbetta. During three days requiems were chanted at every altar in the Duomo, and the great bell, which had never been rung before, was tolled for the space of three hours, accompanied by all the bells of the other churches in Milan. "And there was no one with heart so hard that he was not moved to tears that day," writes Burigozzo, the chronicler who was a living witness of the love which the citizens bore to their dead Duke.[125] At the end of the week the casket containing Francesco's remains was finally laid in a richly carved sarcophagus, which had been originally intended to receive the ashes of Gaston de Foix, the victor of Ravenna, and which was now placed against the wall of the choir, "for a perpetual memorial in the sight of all Milan."[126]

No one loved the Duke better and lamented his loss more truly than Count Massimiliano Stampa, and Pietro Aretino, who realized this, condoled with his noble friend, and at the same time paid an eloquent tribute to the dead Prince, in the following letter: