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

BOOK IX
CHRISTINA, REGENT OF LORRAINE
1545-1552

I.

The premature death of her husband left Christina in a position of exceptional difficulty. Everything combined to add to her distress. She herself was in delicate health, expecting the birth of another child in a few weeks, her only son was an infant of two years and a half, and she had not a single near relative or tried Minister to give her the help of his counsel and experience. The Duke had appointed her Regent of Lorraine during his son's minority, but even before he breathed his last, her claims to this office were disputed. Although Christina herself was popular with all classes of her son's subjects, there was a strong party in Lorraine which dreaded the influence of her powerful uncle. At the head of this party was the Rhinegrave, Jean de Salm, an able nobleman who had always been French in his sympathies, and who now seized the opportunity of the Duke's last illness to advance the claims of Monsieur de Metz, seeing that this young Prince would be an easy tool in his hands. At ten o'clock on the Fête-Dieu, when the Duke had received the last Sacraments, the Count de Salm entered his room with Nicolas de Vaudemont, and thus addressed him: "Monseigneur, if it please God to call you to himself, do you wish that Monsieur de Metz, your brother, should have a share in the administration of your State and the care of your children, without prejudice to the arrangements which you have already made, by word and in writing, with your august wife the Duchess?" The dying Prince, who was hardly conscious, murmured a faint "Yes," upon which the Count summoned a notary to write down the Duke's last wishes, and proceeded to read the document to the Duchess in the presence of her servants.[375] Christina, in her bitter distress, paid little heed to this interruption, and was only anxious to return to her dying husband's bedside; but immediately after his death she found herself compelled to face the question. Owing to her delicate state of health, she decided to put off the Duke's funeral, as well as that of his father, until the following year. A week after his death she joined her young children at her dower-house of Denœuvre, and at the same time the Duke's body was removed by Count de Salm, as Marshal of Lorraine, to the collegiate church of this place, and buried in a temporary grave, after lying in state during three days.

The Emperor was at Worms with the Elector Palatine and his wife when the news of the Duke of Lorraine's death reached him, and sent Montbardon at once to his niece with letters of condolence. Christina availed herself of this opportunity to ask her uncle's advice regarding the deed drawn up by Jean de Salm. Charles, realizing the critical nature of the situation, immediately sent one of his most trusted servants, François Bonvalot, Abbot of Luxeuil, to Nancy, with orders to assure the Duchess of his protection, and if possible secure her the Regency and sole charge of her children. Bonvalot was the brother of Granvelle's wife, the excellent Madame Nicole, and had only lately resigned the office of Ambassador at Paris, and retired to Besançon to administer the affairs of this diocese as coadjutor of the Bishop. No one was better fitted to help the widowed Duchess than this statesman, who was intimately acquainted with the intrigues of the Guise Princes and the French Court. He hastened to Denœuvre without delay, and, as soon as he had seen Christina, wrote the following letter to his brother-in-law, St. Mauris, giving a clear and graphic account of the situation:

When Bonvalot wrote this letter from Denœuvre, on the 27th of June, the young Archbishop of Reims had already arrived there, with an agreement drawn up by his uncle the Cardinal, which he submitted to the Duchess for approval. He informed the Abbot that King Francis trusted the said lady would avoid all occasion of strife, which, as Bonvalot remarked, was exactly what the Emperor wished, and Monsieur de Metz, by his singular action, had done his best to prevent. In this difficult situation Christina showed remarkable good sense and tact. She told Bonvalot frankly that she would gladly avail herself of her brother-in-law's help in the administration of public affairs, and wished to treat him with perfect friendliness as long as she retained the sole charge of her children and the chief authority in the State. Accordingly, the agreement proposed by the Cardinal was adopted, with some modifications, and signed at Denœuvre, on the 6th of August, by Christina, Nicolas, the Count de Salm, and other chief officials of Lorraine. The Duchess and her brother-in-law were appointed joint Regents, and were to affix their seal to all public deeds. Vaudemont was given a key of the Treasury, and was allowed the patronage of one out of every three vacant offices; but the real authority, as well as the care of her children, was vested in the Duchess. Bonvalot told the Emperor that, under the circumstances, this was the best arrangement that could be made, and Charles of Lorraine and his family had nothing but praise for the Duchess's good-will and moderation.[377]

A fortnight later, Christina gave birth to her second daughter, who was named Dorothea, after the Countess Palatine. But the severe mental strain which the mother had undergone affected the child, who was a cripple from her birth. On the 5th of November the Treaty of Denœuvre was ratified by the States assembled at Neufchâteau, not, however, without considerable discussion. Some of the nobles tried to limit the Regents' powers, and managed to insert a provision that none but Lorraine's should hold offices of State, a measure clearly aimed at the Flemings and Burgundians in the Duchess's service. Nicolas de Vaudemont, being young and inexperienced, agreed readily to these demands, which drew forth a strong protest from the Emperor and Mary of Hungary. To add to Bonvalot's dissatisfaction, Monsieur de Metz accompanied the Archbishop on his return to France, without even informing Christina of his intention. In spite of these provocations, she maintained the same conciliatory attitude, and her prudence and modesty excited the Abbot's sincere admiration. The Emperor addressed an affectionate letter to his niece, assuring her of his fatherly love and protection, and saying that he would never cease to regard her interests as his own. "And it will be a great pleasure to me," he adds, "if you will often write to me, and I on my part will let you hear from me in the same manner."[378]

Christina now returned to spend Christmas at Nancy, and settled in the ducal palace with her children. Monsieur de Metz gave up his bishopric, and renouncing the ecclesiastical profession adopted the style of Count of Vaudemont. But he showed no further disposition to make himself disagreeable to his sister-in-law, and their mutual relations were rendered easier by the presence of the Princess of Orange, who spent most of the year at Nancy. The two widowed Princesses were drawn together by that tenderest of ties, the memory of those whom they had loved and lost. Henceforth they became the dearest and closest of friends. During all the troubles and sorrows of the next twenty years Anne's loyalty to her sister-in-law remained unshaken. Her strong common-sense and practical qualities, her coolness and courage in emergencies, were a great support to Christina, while the confidence that Mary of Hungary reposed in her proved no less valuable. The harmony of the family circle continued unbroken, and the internal administration of Lorraine was carried on as peaceably as before. The conduct of foreign affairs presented far greater difficulties, and all Christina's prudence was needed to steer the way safely through the rocks that lay in her course.

In spite of his friendly professions, the French King, it soon became evident, was likely to prove a troublesome neighbour. As Wotton wrote when Francis of Lorraine died, "If the sweet, vain hope of the delivery of Milan did not let him, I think the Duke's death might easily provoke the French King to attempt somewhat on Bar and Lorraine."[379] Even before her husband's death, Christina had been involved in a long correspondence regarding Stenay, which the French refused to give up until Duke Antoine's letters surrendering the town could be produced. The missing papers were at length discovered in possession of the French Governor, De Longueval, who had maliciously concealed them, and the town was evacuated at the end of August, 1545. Ten days afterwards the Duke of Orleans died of the plague at Abbeville, in his twenty-fifth year. The loss of this favourite son was a heavy blow to Francis. "God grant," he wrote to the Emperor, in an outburst of deep emotion, "that you may never know what it is to lose a son!" The event, as it happened, proved most opportune for Charles, who was released from the unpleasant necessity of giving his daughter or niece to a worthless Prince, with Milan or the Netherlands as her dower. But it naturally provoked Francis to demand fresh concessions and revive his old claim to Milan.

The effect of this new quarrel was to increase Christina's difficulties. When the French at length abandoned Stenay, it was found that not only the recent fortifications had been destroyed, as agreed upon in the Treaty of Crépy, but that the old walls of the town had been pulled down. Mary of Hungary justly complained that the defenceless state of Stenay was a grave cause of danger to Luxembourg, and urged her brother to garrison the town, declaring, if war broke out, the Duchess would be unable to maintain the neutrality of Lorraine. Charles, who had already left the Netherlands to attend the Diet of Regensburg, now invited his niece to meet him at Waldrevange, on the frontiers of Luxembourg, and discuss the matter. Christina obeyed her uncle's summons gladly, and assured him that she was quite alive to the importance of Stenay, and had already asked her subjects' help in rebuilding the town walls. But since the presence of an imperial force might excite suspicion, she proposed to place a young Luxembourg Captain named Schauwenbourg in command of the garrison. The plan met with Charles's approval; but Mary was by no means satisfied, and begged the Emperor to insist on an oath of allegiance to himself being taken by the garrison and burghers. Charles replied that no doubt the best plan would be to keep Stenay altogether, but that this would be a direct violation of the Treaty of Crépy, as well as a wrong to the little Duke, and might stir up the French "to make a great broil."[380]

The invaluable Bonvalot was now called in, and accepted Christina's invitation to attend the funeral of the two Dukes on the 14th of June. But when the Abbot reached Nancy, he found that only Duke Antoine's obsequies were about to be solemnized, and that the Duchess had deferred those of her husband in compliance with a request from the Guise Princes. On the day after the old Duke's funeral, Bonvalot had a long interview with Christina, who expressed her anxiety to meet her aunt's wishes, and explained that Vaudemont was only afraid of arousing the suspicions of the French. While she was speaking, Nicolas himself came in and told the Abbé how grateful he felt to the Emperor for the affection which he showed to his little nephew, and how fully he realized the importance of defending Stenay, but that he dared not risk exciting the displeasure of Francis, who was already advancing a thousand new claims on Bar. The members of the Ducal Council, to whom the matter was referred, expressed the same opinion, telling Bonvalot that they looked to the Emperor as their father and protector, and would guard Stenay as the apple of their eye. The Abbot was satisfied with these assurances, and advised the Emperor to leave the matter in his niece's hands. Charles had empowered him to offer Nicolas the restitution of the Abbey of Gorzes, which he had formerly held, and which the Imperialists had recovered from the French and rebuilt at considerable expense. But Christina would not hear of this, saying that her brother-in-law cared more for the good of the State than for his private advantage, and Nicolas himself told Bonvalot that he would not endanger his nephew's realm for ten wealthy abbeys.

So the incident closed, and for the time being nothing more was heard of Stenay.

II.

The Duke of Guise and his family now stood higher than ever in the King's favour. His eldest son, Aumale, was dangerously wounded in the siege of Boulogne by an English spear, which penetrated so deeply into his forehead that the surgeon could only extract the steel by planting his foot on the patient's head. After this ordeal the Count lay between life and death for several weeks, and owed his recovery to the tender nursing of his mother, who preserved as a trophy at Joinville the English spearhead which so nearly ended her son's career.[382] As soon as he was able to move, the King sent for Antoinette, and insisted on taking her to hunt at St. Germain, and consulting her as to his latest improvements in this palace. Her grandson, the young Duke of Longueville, was also a great favourite at Court, and when peace was at length concluded, the King gave him a copy of the new treaty with England to send to the Queen of Scotland. The boy enclosed it in a merry letter, sending his love to the little Queen his sister, and telling his mother that if she would not come to France he meant to come and see her, and was old and strong enough to face the roughest sea-voyage.[383]

The Cardinal now announced his intention of taking the whole family back to Joinville, to attend the ducal funeral; but once more the King interfered, and kept them at Court for the christening of the Dauphin's daughter, which was celebrated with great pomp at Fontainebleau. Henry VIII. stood godfather, and the little Princess was named Elizabeth, after the King's mother, "as good and virtuous a woman as ever lived," said the English Ambassador, Sir Thomas Cheyney; while the Imperialists declared that the name was chosen because of its popularity in Spain and of the hopes of the French that the child might one day wed Don Carlos.[384]

Meanwhile the arrival of the Guises was anxiously awaited at Nancy. On the 17th of July Christina wrote to inform Abbot Bonvalot that she had at length been able to fix the date of her husband's funeral:

"La bien votre,
"Chrestienne."[385]

The coming of the Guises, however, was again delayed, and the funeral did not take place until the 17th of August. On the previous day the Duke's corpse was brought from Denœuvre to Nancy by the great officers of State, and laid on a bier in the Church of St. George's, surrounded by lighted torches and a guard of armed men, who kept watch all night. The funerals of the Dukes of Lorraine had always been famous for their magnificence, and there was an old proverb which said: "Fortunate is the man who has seen the coronation of an Emperor, the sacring of a King of France, and the funeral of a Duke of Lorraine."[386] On this occasion nothing that could heighten the imposing nature of the ceremony was neglected. All the Princes of the blood, Nicolas of Vaudemont, the Duke of Guise with his five sons and grandson, rode out from the ducal palace to the Church of St. Georges, and took their places, as chief mourners, at the head of the long procession that wound through the streets to the Cordeliers' shrine. In their train came a multitude of clergy, nobles, and Ambassadors from all the crowned heads in Europe, followed by a motley crowd of burghers and humble folk, all in deep mourning, with torches in their hands. The chariot bearing the coffin was drawn by twelve horses, draped with black velvet adorned with the cross of Lorraine in white satin. The Duke's war-horse, in full armour, was led by two pages, while the servants of his household walked bareheaded on either side, with folded arms, in token that their master needed their services no more. On the hearse lay an image of the dead Prince, with the ducal baton in his hand, clad in crimson robes and a mantle of gold brocade fastened with a diamond clasp. This effigy was placed on a huge catafalque erected in the centre of the church, lighted with a hundred torches, and hung with banners emblazoned with the arms of Lorraine, Bar, Provence, Jerusalem, and the Sicilies.

In the tribune above the choir knelt the Princess of Orange, the Duchess of Guise, and her newly-wedded daughter-in-law, Diane of Poitiers's daughter Louise, Marchioness of Mayenne, all clad in the same long black mantles lined with ermine. The Countess Palatine, Dorothea, had arrived at Nancy on the 17th of June, to attend her brother-in-law's funeral, but as the Guises failed to appear, she returned to Heidelberg at the end of a fortnight.

Christina herself was unable to be present, "owing to her excessive sorrow," writes the chronicler, and remained on her knees in prayer, with the Princess of Macedonia and her young children, in her own room, hung with black, while the requiem was chanted and the last rites were performed.[387] When all was over, and the "two Princes of peace," as De Boullay called Francis and his father, were laid side by side in the vault of the Friars' Church, the vast assembly dispersed and the mourners went their ways. Only Anne of Lorraine remained at Nancy with her sister-in-law, who could not bear to part from her. A letter which this Princess wrote to her cousin, the Queen of Scotland, this summer is of interest for the glimpse which it gives of the widowed Duchess and the boy round whom all her hopes centred:

"Your humble cousin,
"Anne de Lorraine."[388]

The Princess of Orange was still in Lorraine when King Francis came to visit the Duchess. This monarch was as active as ever, in spite of frequent attacks of illness, and spent the autumn in making a progress through Burgundy and Champagne, hunting and travelling seven or eight leagues a day in the most inclement weather.

In October he came to Joinville, and Christina, glad to be relieved of the necessity of going to Court herself, invited him to pay her a visit at Bar. In this once stately Romanesque castle, of which little now remains, the Duchess and the Princess of Orange, "dowagers both," as Wotton remarks, entertained Francis magnificently, and provided a series of hunting-parties and banquets for his amusement.

The true object of the King's visit was to arrange a marriage between the Duchess and the Count of Aumale. The young soldier made no secret of his love for his cousin's beautiful widow, Antoinette was anxious to see her son settled, and both the King and the Guises were fully alive to the political advantages of the alliance. On the 26th of October Wotton wrote from Bar, "The fame continues of a marriage between the Dowager of Lorraine and the Count of Aumale," although, as he had already remarked in a previous letter, it was hard to believe the Duchess's uncles would consent to the union. Aumale's own hopes were high, and he sent a messenger to Scotland to tell his sister of the good cheer which they were enjoying in Madame de Lorraine's house at Bar.[389]

But these hopes were doomed to disappointment. Christina was determined never to marry again. Like her aunt, Mary of Hungary, having once tasted perfect happiness, she was unwilling to repeat the experiment. Her beauty was in its prime, her charms attracted lovers of every age and rank. During the next ten or twelve years she was courted by several of the most illustrious personages and bravest captains of the age. She smiled on all her suitors in turn, and gave them freely of her friendship, but remained true to her resolve to live for her children alone, and took for her device a solitary tower with doves fluttering round its barred windows, and the motto Accipio nullas sordida turris aves (A ruined tower, I give shelter to no birds), as a symbol of perpetual widowhood.[390]

Aumale consoled himself by winning fresh laurels in the next war, and before long married another bride of high degree; but Brantôme, who was intimate with the Guises, tells us that he never forgave Madame de Lorraine for rejecting his suit, and remained her bitter enemy to the end of his life.[391] The King took Christina's refusal more lightly. He never treated women's fancies seriously, and when he found that Aumale's suit was not acceptable, he sought the Duchess's help in a scheme that lay nearer his heart. This was the marriage of his own daughter Margaret with Philip of Spain, whose young wife had died, in June, 1545, a few days after giving birth to the Infant Don Carlos. The old scheme of marrying this Princess to the Emperor's only son was now revived at the French Court, and Christina, who had always appreciated Madame Marguerite's excellent qualities, entered readily into the King's wishes. But, as she soon discovered, her aunt, Queen Eleanor, was greatly opposed to the idea, and still ardently wished to see Philip married to her own daughter, the Infanta Maria of Portugal.[392]

From Bar Francis returned to spend All Hallows at Joinville, where he enjoyed fresh revels, and delighted the Duke of Longueville by telling him to make haste and grow tall, that he might enter his service.

In the same letter the writer describes how, on his journey to Plessis, to bring the Princess of Navarre to Court, he met the Queen of Scotland's sister, Madame Renée, with a number of old monks and nuns, on her way from Fontévrault to Joinville. On the 16th of December Madame Renée took possession of the Convent of St. Pierre at Reims, of which she was Abbess, and the Duchess of Lorraine and the Princess of Orange were among the guests present at this ceremony, at the entry of her brother the Archbishop into his episcopal city on the following day.

Meanwhile the news of Christina's supposed marriage travelled far and wide. It reached Venice, where the fate of the Duchess who had once reigned over Milan always excited interest, and was reported to King Henry of England by one of his Italian agents. His curiosity was aroused, and when the French Ambassador, Odet de Selve, came to Windsor, he asked him if his master had concluded the marriage which he had in hand. "What marriage?" asked De Selve innocently. "That of Madame de Lorraine," replied Henry testily. "With whom?" asked the Ambassador. But Henry would say no more, and relapsed into sullen silence.[394] He had come back from Boulogne seriously ill, and grew heavier and more unwieldy every day. A week afterwards he had a severe attack of fever, and on his return to London sent Norfolk and Surrey to the Tower.

Mary of Hungary was so much alarmed at this fresh outbreak of violence that she sent to Chapuys, who was living in retirement at Louvain, for advice. The veteran diplomatist, who for sixteen years had toiled to avoid a rupture between the two monarchs, wrote back, on the 29th of January, 1547, advising the Queen to take no action. "Physicians say," he added, "that the best and quickest cure for certain maladies is to leave the evil untouched and avoid further irritation." When the old statesman wrote these words, the King, whose varying moods he knew so well, had already ceased from troubling. He died at Whitehall on the 28th of January, 1547.

The news of his royal brother's death moved the King of France deeply. "We were both of the same age," he said, "and now he is gone it is time for me to go hence, too."[395] In spite of the painful ailments from which he suffered, Francis still moved restlessly from place to place. Towards the end of Lent he left Loches to spend Easter at St. Germain, but fell ill on the way, and died at Rambouillet on the 31st of March.

The death of these two monarchs, who filled so large a place in the history of the times, produced a profound sensation throughout Europe. No one felt the shock more than the Duchess, who had been courted by one Prince, and had lately received the other under her roof. But a third death this spring touched her still more closely. On the 28th of February the good old Queen Philippa passed away in her humble cell at Pont-à-Mousson. As she lay dying she asked what was the day of the week, and, being told it was Saturday, remarked: "All the best things of my life came to me on this day. I was born and married to my dear husband on a Saturday, I entered Nancy amid the rejoicings of my people, and I forsook the world to take the veil, on this day, and now on Saturday I am going to God." Her children and grandchildren knelt at the bedside, but Guise, her best-loved son, only arrived from Paris at the last moment. She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. "Adieu, mon ami," she said, "and do not forget to keep God before your eyes." These were her last words, and as the pure spirit passed out of this life the sound of weeping was broken by the joyous songs of her pet lark.[396]

She was buried, as she desired, in the convent cloister, and the people, who venerated her as a saint, flocked to the funeral. Christina employed Ligier-Richier, the sculptor of the Prince of Orange's monument, to carve a recumbent effigy of the dead Queen in coloured marbles on her tomb. The black cloak and grey habit were faithfully reproduced, the finely-modelled features were rendered in all their ivory whiteness, and a tiny figure of a kneeling nun was represented in the act of laying the crown at her feet. When the convent church was pillaged by rioters in 1793, this monument was buried by the nuns in the garden. Here it was discovered in 1822, and brought to Nancy, where it now stands in the Church of the Cordeliers, near the stately tomb which Philippa herself had reared to her husband, King René.[397]

III.

Of the three great monarchs whose fame had filled the world during the last forty years, only one remained alive, and he was engaged in a desperate struggle. Throughout the autumn and winter of 1546-47, Charles V. carried on a vigorous campaign against the coalition of Princes known as the League of Schmalkalde. Christina watched the progress of the war with keen anxiety, and saw with distress that her brother-in-law, the Palatine, had joined the rebel ranks. Frederic had never forgiven the Emperor for sacrificing his wife's rights by the Treaty of Spires, and showed his displeasure by refusing to attend the Chapter of the Golden Fleece at Utrecht in January, 1546. He further annoyed Charles by introducing Lutheran rites at Heidelberg, and on Christmas Day he and Dorothea received Communion in both kinds at the hands of a Protestant pastor in the Church of the Holy Ghost. But he still hesitated to take up arms against the friend of his youth. At length, in August, he declared himself on the Protestant side, and for the first time the red flag of the Palatinate was seen in the camp of the Emperor's foes. Before long, however, his courage failed him, and when Charles recovered the imperial city of Halle, in Suabia, Frederic hastened thither to make his peace. Tears rose to the veteran's eyes when the Emperor said how much it had grieved him to see so old a friend in the ranks of his foes, but hastened to add that he forgave him freely and would only remember his past services. From this time the Palatine's loyalty never again wavered, but he was obliged to restore Catholic rites in Heidelberg and to give up his fortress of Hoh-Königsberg in Franconia to Albert of Brandenburg.[398]

The Duke of Würtemberg and the cities of Ulm and Augsburg soon followed the Palatine's example, and Charles's triumph was complete by the decisive victory of Mühlberg. "God be thanked, who never forsakes his own," wrote Granvelle to Mary of Hungary from the battle-field, at midnight on the 24th of April.[399] The Elector John Frederick of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse were made prisoners, the League of Schmalkalde was dissolved, and Titian commemorated the Emperor's heroic deeds in a famous equestrian portrait.

The peace of Lorraine was insured by the victory of Mühlberg, and Christina shared in the general sense of relief with which the close of the war was hailed. When, in the following autumn, the Regent and the Princess of Orange rode to meet the Emperor at the Diet of Augsburg, the Duchess joined them on the frontiers of Lorraine. These three august ladies reached Augsburg on the 21st of November, and were received by King Ferdinand, his son Archduke Maximilian, and the Prince of Piedmont, who met them outside the gates, and escorted them to the Emperor's lodgings in the fine house of the Fuggers. Here the Countess Palatine and Ferdinand's daughter, the Duchess of Bavaria, were awaiting them at the doors of the courtyard, and conducted them into Charles's presence. During the next three months Christina lived in the great banker's house, with the other members of the imperial family, as her uncle's guest. Augsburg itself was a noble city. The wealth of her merchants, the splendour of their houses and gardens, amazed every stranger who entered her gates. "The Fuggers' house," wrote Ascham, "would over-brag all Cheapside." The copper roofs glittered in the sun, the carved and painted decorations of the interior were of the most costly and elaborate description.[400] And this winter the streets of Augsburg were thronged with Princes and ladies. It was the gayest and most splendid Diet ever seen. Never before had so many Archduchesses and Duchesses been present, never was there so much dancing and jousting and feasting. On St. Andrew's Day the whole imperial family attended a solemn Mass in honour of the Knights of the Fleece, and were entertained by the Emperor at a banquet, after which the Queen of Hungary received the Companions of the Order in her apartments. On Christmas Day all the Princes and Princesses were present at High Mass in the Cathedral, and on the Feast of the Three Kings they attended service in the Court chapel, when Granvelle's son, the young Bishop of Arras, officiated, and the Palatine, the Marquis of Brandenburg, and the Archduke, presented the customary offerings of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, in the Emperor's name. Except on these state occasions, Charles dined alone and never spoke at meals, but generally sat by the window for an hour or two afterwards, talking to his brother and sister or nephews and nieces.

King Ferdinand's rooms, on the contrary, were never empty. He had lost his faithful wife, Anna of Bohemia, in January, but his son and daughter were lavish in dispensing their father's hospitality. Like his sister Mary, Ferdinand was very fond of music, and enjoyed listening to his fine Kapelle, while one of his favourite jesters was always present to amuse the Electors and Princesses at his table.[401] His son, the Archduke Max, as Ascham calls him, was a gay and pleasant gentleman, "of goodly person and stature," speaking eight languages, and very popular with all classes, especially the Lutherans, whose opinions he was supposed to affect. Charles's other nephew, Emanuel Philibert, the Prince of Piedmont, was another gallant squire of dames, as ready to take part in masque and dance as he was foremost in active warfare. Every evening there was music and dancing in the King's rooms, and the old halls of the merchants rang to the sound of laughter and melody. In that joyous throng the Countess Palatine was the gayest of the gay, and Christina forgot her sorrows to become young once more.

There was one man among the Princes assembled at Augsburg who gazed with frank admiration at the handsome Duchess; this was the Marquis Albert of Brandenburg, Lord of Culmbach and Burgrave of Nuremberg. While still a boy he succeeded to his father's principality in Franconia, and was educated by his uncle, the Duke of Prussia and Grand-Master of the Teutonic Order. Although brought up a Lutheran, he entered the Emperor's service before he was twenty, and fought gallantly in the wars of Cleves and Champagne. A wild and reckless spirit, who rode hard, drank deep, and knew no fear, Albert was adored by his soldiers, whose toils and hardships he shared with cheerful courage, while his name was the terror of all peaceful citizens. "Thunder and lightning, devouring fire," wrote a contemporary, "are not more terrible than the Marquis Albert on the battle-field."[402] But there was a fascination about this ruthless dare-devil which no woman could resist. His sisters were passionately devoted to him, and Bona, the Queen of Poland, tried in vain to marry him to one of her daughters. Roger Ascham describes him as

There seemed no heights to which this soldier of fortune could not aspire. The Emperor treated him with fatherly affection, and the Queen and the Duchess of Lorraine honoured the sumptuous banquets, in which he displayed his usual prodigality, careless of the debts with which he was already loaded.

Once more rumour was busy with Christina's name. The Marquis Albert proclaimed himself her devoted servant, and her marriage with the young King Sigismund of Poland was seriously discussed at Augsburg. This monarch's wife, the Archduchess Elizabeth, had died before his accession, and his sister, the Electress Hedwig of Brandenburg, was eager to bring about a union between him and the Duchess of Lorraine;[404] but, as usual, these rumours ended in smoke, and the only marriage announced at Augsburg was that of the Archduke Max and his cousin the Infanta Maria of Spain, an alliance which had long been privately arranged.

Early in the New Year another distinguished person arrived at Augsburg, in the person of the great Venetian master, Titian. He came in obedience to an urgent summons from the Emperor, and during the next few months painted a magnificent series of portraits, including those of Charles and Ferdinand, the captive Elector of Saxony, Chancellor Granvelle, his wife, and his son, the Bishop of Arras, who was a great admirer of Titian's art. Fourteen years before, this same master had taken Christina's portrait, when she came to Milan as the youthful bride of Francesco Sforza; now he saw her again in the flower of her womanhood, and, had opportunity offered, would doubtless have painted her again. But disquieting rumours of unrest on the frontiers of Lorraine reached Augsburg, and on the 16th of February the Duchess set out on her return to Nancy. The Emperor gave his niece a costly ring as a parting present, and Archduke Max, the Marquis Albert, the Prince of Piedmont, together with the Countess Palatine and the Princess of Orange, escorted her some leagues on her way. When, a month later, the Queen of Hungary left Augsburg, she paid Christina a visit at Nancy, bringing with her Anne of Lorraine and William, the young Prince of Orange, a promising boy of fifteen, who was being educated at Court, and met with a kindly welcome from the Duchess and her subjects for the sake of the lamented Prince whose name he bore.[405] By Mary's advice, the Regents took active measures for the defence of the frontier and the fortification of Nancy. An arsenal was founded, and two bastions, which became known as those of Denmark and Vaudemont, were built near the palace. Other improvements were carried out at the same time: the marshy ground under the walls was thoroughly drained, and converted into a spacious square called La Place de la Carrière; many of the streets were paved and widened; and the Count of Salm, Bassompierre, and several of the nobles, built fine new houses along the Grande Rue, opposite the Galerie des Cerfs.[406]