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

The Emperor remained at Augsburg throughout the summer, endeavouring to effect a lasting settlement of the religious question. On the 30th of June the so-called "Interim" was proclaimed, a compromise which satisfied no one, and was described by Thomas Hoby, a young Englishman who came to Augsburg this summer on his way to Italy, as an attempt to set up the old Babylon again in Germany.[407] A fortnight later the Diet was prorogued, and Charles started for the Netherlands, where he arrived on the 8th of September, after more than two years' absence.

A few weeks before his arrival a marriage had taken place, greatly to Mary's satisfaction, between the widowed Princess of Orange and the Duke of Aerschot.[408] This nobleman, the premier peer of the realm and doyen of the Golden Fleece, had lost his second wife in 1544, but was still in the prime of life, and, as his daughter-in-law, Louise de Guise, told her sister, was honoured and beloved throughout the Netherlands. Christina could not herself be present at the wedding, but her brother-in-law Nicolas went to Brussels to give his sister away. Here he fell in love with Count Egmont's sister Margaret, and asked her hand in marriage. This alliance met with the warm approval of the Emperor and the Regent, but caused Christina many searchings of heart. Already more than one attempt had been made by the Guises to marry Vaudemont to a French bride, and she feared that this union would excite great displeasure in some quarters. In her alarm she wrote to the Emperor, begging him to forbid the marriage as dangerous to the welfare of her State. Charles, however, declined to interfere, and sent Granvelle's brother, Chantonnay, to advise his niece politely to mind her own business.

There was nothing more to be said, and the wedding was celebrated in the Court chapel at Brussels, after vespers, on the 23rd of January, 1549. The bride, richly clad in cloth of gold and decked with priceless gems, was led to the altar by the Queen, while Charles brought in the bridegroom. A banquet and masque were afterwards held in the palace, at the close of which Mary once more took the bride by the hand and conducted her into the nuptial chamber, hung with crimson brocade and costly tapestries. The next morning the newly-wedded Countess appeared at Mass, in another costume of green velvet embroidered in silver, and jousts and dances succeeded each other during the following three days, ending with a magnificent banquet given by the Duchess of Aerschot.[410]

Among the company present on this occasion was the Dowager Queen Eleanor, who came to Brussels on the 5th of December, to make her home with her beloved brother and sister. On his death-bed Francis I. was seized with remorse for the way in which he had neglected his wife, and begged his daughter Margaret to atone for his shortcomings. But although Margaret carried out her father's last instructions faithfully, and asked his widow to remain at Court, the new King showed his stepmother scanty kindness, and Eleanor left France with few regrets. Another guest at Margaret of Egmont's wedding was Christina's cousin, Duke Adolf of Holstein, the King of Denmark's youngest brother. Most of his life had been spent in Germany, and he had taken part in the campaign of Mühlberg with his friend Albert of Brandenburg. Now, following the wild Marquis's example, he came to Brussels in October, 1548, and entered the Emperor's service. This new recruit was cordially welcomed, and gave a signal proof of his valour by carrying off the first prize in the tournament held at the palace.

Christina herself maintained the prudent attitude which she had adopted with regard to Vaudemont's marriage, and refused to countenance by her presence a union which excited much unfriendly criticism in France. Two other weddings in which she was also keenly interested took place about the same time. On the 20th of October her old suitor, the brilliant and volatile Duke of Vendôme, was married at Moulins to Jeanne d'Albret, the heiress of Navarre. This strong-minded Princess, who refused to wed the Duke of Cleves, and took objection to Aumale because his brother was the husband of Diane de Poitiers's daughter, fell suddenly in love with Vendôme, and insisted on marrying him in spite of her mother's opposition. So radiant was Jeanne on her wedding-day that King Henry declared her to be the most joyous bride whom he had ever seen. Six weeks later Aumale himself was married at St. Germain to Anna d'Este, daughter of Duke Ercole II. of Ferrara and Renée of France. Ronsard sang the praises of this Italian Venus who had taken the Mars of France for her lord, and Vendôme, gay and inconsequent as ever, sent his old rival in war and love a merry letter, bidding him follow his good example, and stay at home to play the good husband.[411] This union with the King's first cousin satisfied the highest ambitions of the Guises, while Anna's charm and goodness were a source of lasting content to Duchess Antoinette. Christina was one of the first to greet the bride on her arrival at Joinville. At first the two Princesses, Brantôme tells us, looked at each other shyly, but with evident curiosity. The tale of Aumale's courtship was well known, and Christina naturally felt keen interest in the Este Princess who came from Beatrice's home and was the cousin of Francesco Sforza. "Anna," writes the chronicler, "was tall and beautiful, but very gentle and amiable. The two ladies met and conversed together, and were soon the best of friends."[412]

IV.

Christina's absence from her brother-in-law's wedding had been a great disappointment to her aunts, and she received a pressing invitation to come to Brussels for the fêtes in honour of the Prince of Spain, whose arrival was expected early in the spring of 1549. Accordingly, on the 28th of March the Duchess reached Brussels, attended by the Princess of Macedonia, and was received by the Grand-Écuyer Boussu and a brilliant escort of gentlemen. One of these was the Marquis Albert, whose name of late had been frequently coupled with her own, the other his friend Duke Adolf of Holstein. Christina naturally hailed this meeting with her cousin, especially now that his brother, King Christian, had alleviated the rigour of her father's captivity. Since the Palatine had abandoned all attempts to maintain his wife's claims, the reigning monarch had agreed to release his unfortunate kinsman from the dungeons of Sonderburg. On the 17th of February the two Kings met and dined together in a friendly manner, after which the deposed monarch was removed to Kallundborg, a pleasantly-situated castle on a promontory of Zeeland, where he spent the remaining ten years of his life in comparative freedom.[413] This, indeed, was all that the Emperor desired. In a secret paper of instructions which he drew up for Philip in case of his own death, he enjoined his son to cultivate peaceable relations with the King of Denmark, and do his utmost to keep the Princesses Dorothea and Christina in his good graces, and insure their father's good treatment, "without allowing him such a measure of liberty as might enable him to assert his old claims and injure our State of Flanders as he did before."[414]

Unfortunately, the interest with which Christina regarded the Danish Prince proved fatal to Adolf's friendship with the Marquis. Before the outbreak of the Schmalkalde War, Adolf had become affianced to Albert's sister, Fräulein Kunigunde. The wedding-day was fixed, and the citizens of Nuremberg had prepared gold rings and jewels for the bride, but the disturbed state of Denmark compelled the Duke to postpone his marriage for a time. Then, as ill-luck would have it, he met the Duchess of Lorraine at the New Year festivities at Augsburg, and fell desperately in love with her. From this moment he forgot Fräulein Kunigunde, and took the first excuse he could find to break off his engagement. Albert never forgave the wrong, and, although the two Princes met at Brussels and walked side by side in the Court chapel on Candlemas Day, the old friendship between them was turned to bitter enmity.[415]

But now private grievances had to be put aside, and friends and foes alike joined in the public rejoicings which welcomed the Prince of Spain's arrival. Charles was anxious to present his son to his future subjects in the most favourable light, and no pains were spared to produce a good impression both on Philip himself and on the loyal people of Brabant. On the 1st of April, Mary of Hungary, Christina, and Anne of Aerschot, accompanied by the whole Court, received the Prince at Ter Vueren, where they entertained him at dinner and witnessed a military parade and sham-fight on the plains outside the town. In the evening Philip made his state entry into Brussels, clad in crimson velvet and riding on a superb war-horse, attended by Albert of Brandenburg, Adolf of Holstein, the Princes of Piedmont, Orange, and Chimay, Alva, Egmont, Pescara, and many other illustrious personages. The chief burghers and city guilds met the Prince at Ter Vueren, and escorted him to the palace gates, where the two Queens and Christina conducted him into the Emperor's presence. Philip fell on his knees, and his father embraced him with tears in his eyes, and conversed with him for over an hour. At nightfall the whole city was illuminated, and bonfires blazed from all the neighbouring heights. The next day a tournament was held on the Grande Place, and a splendid gold cup was presented to the Prince by the city, while the States of Brabant voted him a gift of 100,000 florins and hailed him with acclamation as the Emperor's successor. But in the evening these rejoicings were interrupted by the news of the Duke of Aerschot's sudden death. He had gone to Spires to meet the Prince, but had over-exerted himself, and died very suddenly at his castle of Quievrain. It was a grievous blow to Anne of Lorraine, who was once more left a widow, before she had been married quite nine months. The deepest sympathy was felt for her at Court, and Mary lamented the loss of her wisest Councillor. All festivities were put off till Easter. Philip spent Holy Week in devotional exercises, and rode to S. Gudule on Palm Sunday, at the head of a solemn procession of knights bearing palms.

Charles took advantage of this quiet season to initiate his son into the administration of public affairs and make him acquainted with the leading nobles of the Netherlands. But the impression produced by Philip was far from being a favourable one. Short in stature and blond in complexion, with his father's wide forehead and projecting jaw, he was Flemish in appearance, but Spanish by nature. His taciturn air and haughty and reserved manners formed a striking contrast to the frank and genial ways which endeared Charles V. to all classes of his subjects. Thomas Hoby, who saw Philip at Mantua, noticed what "small countenance" he made to the crowd who greeted his entry, and heard that he had already "acquired a name for insolency." Wherever he went it was the same. "His severe and morose appearance," wrote the Venetian Suriano, "has made him disagreeable to the Italians, hated by the Flemings, and odious to the Germans." His marked preference for all that was Spanish gave deadly offence to the Emperor's old servants, and people in Brussels said openly that when Philip came to the throne no one but Spaniards would be employed at Court. In vain his father and aunt warned him that this exclusive temper was ill-suited to a Prince who was called to rule over subjects of many nations. He spoke little in public and rarely smiled. During the year which he spent at Brussels people said that he was never seen to laugh except on one occasion, when all the Court witnessed the famous national fête of the Ommegang from the hôtel-de-ville, on the Fête-Dieu. Among the varied groups in the procession was a bear playing on an organ, while children dressed up as monkeys danced to the music, and unhappy cats tied by the tail in cages filled the air with discordant cries. At the sight of these grotesque figures even Philip's gravity gave way, and he laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.[416]

This cold and haughty Prince, who took no pains to commend himself to his future subjects, showed a marked preference from the first for his cousin Christina. He sought her company on every possible occasion, gave her rich presents, and devoted himself to her service with an ardour which became a cause of serious annoyance to his aunts.

Before long Christina herself found Philip's attentions embarrassing, and felt that it would be the path of wisdom to leave Court. She was present, however, at a second tournament given on the Grande Place, on the 6th of May. That day Count d'Aremberg (the husband of Christina's intimate friend Margaret la Marck), Mansfeldt, Horn, and Floris de Montmorency, held the lists against all assailants, while Alva and Francesco d'Este were the judges. Philip, who inherited little of his father's taste for knightly exercises, but had been practising riding and jousting diligently during the last few weeks, entered the lists, and was awarded a fine ruby as a prize, Egmont and the Prince of Piedmont being the other victors. Albert of Brandenburg was present, but declined to take part in the tournament. He had seldom been seen at Court since Philip's arrival and spent most of his time in his own quarters, compiling an account of his grievances against the Emperor. One day Charles, fearing to lose his services, sent Granvelle to offer him an honourable and lucrative office in the Imperial Mint. Albert replied loftily that, since he was born a Brandenburg, no office which the Emperor had to bestow, could exalt his station, and that as he never managed to keep a sixpence in his own pocket, he would rather not attempt to meddle with other people's money. A few days after this he asked leave to retire to his own domains. The last time that he appeared in public was at the banquet which followed the tournament, in the hôtel-de-ville; here he sat at the Emperor's table, opposite the Duchess of Lorraine, who was placed between Philip and Emanuel Philibert of Piedmont, while Adolf of Holstein sat next to the Princess of Macedonia. All these illustrious guests joined in the ball which closed the day's festivities, and dancing was kept up with great spirit until after midnight.[418]

Early the next morning Christina left Brussels, accompanied by Vaudemont's wife, Margaret of Egmont, and escorted for several miles on her journey by the Prince of Spain. Three weeks later the Marquis Albert also left Court, without taking leave of the Emperor or the Queens. His abrupt departure excited general surprise, and no one knew whether it was due to his quarrel with the Duke of Holstein, or to some imaginary affront from the Prince or the Duchess of Lorraine; but when he was at some distance from the town he sent back a warrant for a pension of 4,000 crowns a year, which he had received from the Emperor, as a sign that he was no longer in his service.

During the course of the summer Philip made his "joyeuse entrée" into the different cities of the Low Countries, and a memorable series of fêtes was given in his honour by Mary of Hungary at her beautiful summer palace of Binche. At the end of August the Duchess of Aerschot gave birth to a posthumous son, who was christened by the Bishop of Arras in the Court chapel, and named Charles Philip, after his godfathers, the Emperor and the Prince. But while Anne's second marriage and her brother's union with Egmont's sister strengthened the ties between Lorraine and Flanders, the close connection of the younger branch of the ducal house with France increased daily. After the marriage of Guise's third son, Mayenne, with Diane de Poitiers's daughter, his brothers were loaded with favours of every description. Aumale was created a Duke and appointed Governor of Savoy, and Charles was made a Cardinal at the King's request, and loaded with rich benefices. Their mother stood sponsor to Henry II.'s daughter Claude, who was one day to be the wife of Christina's only son, and had the deputies of the thirteen Swiss cantons for her godfathers. A new link was forged by the coming of the little Queen of Scots to France in the autumn of 1548, as the future bride of the Dauphin. Antoinette met her granddaughter at Brest, and brought her to St. Germain, where the charms of the little Queen soon won all hearts. "I can assure you," wrote the proud grandmother to her eldest son, "she is the best and prettiest child of her age that was ever seen!" And her uncle the Cardinal added: "She already governs both the King and Queen." At the Court ball in honour of Aumale's wedding, all the guests stood still to watch the lovely little Queen and the Dauphin dancing hand in hand, and the King smiled maliciously when the English Ambassador remarked that it was the most charming thing in the world to see the two children together.[419]

When Christina returned to Lorraine in May, 1549, all the Guises were at Paris for the King and Queen's state entry, and the young Duke of Longueville led his grandmother's white horse in the procession. After this Antoinette brought her daughter-in-law to spend the autumn quietly at Joinville, and great was the rejoicing when, on the last day of the year, Anna gave birth to her first son, the Prince who was to become famous as "Henri le Balafré." Christina was careful to remain on good terms with the family at Joinville, and the presence of the Duchess of Aerschot, who spent the winter in Lorraine, increased the friendly intercourse between the two houses. Anne's letters to her aunt and cousins abound in playful allusions to early recollections, and she always addressed Aumale as "Monsieur mon serviteur" and signed herself "Votre bonne maîtresse." When, in January, 1550, the Duke of Guise fell ill, Christina sent her steward Grammont repeatedly to make inquiries at Joinville.

After a long illness, Claude of Guise breathed his last on the 12th of April, and was followed to the grave within a month by his brother, Cardinal Jean, who died at Nogent-sur-Seine, on his return from Rome. The Duke's funeral was solemnized in the Church of St. Laurent at Joinville, with all the elaborate ceremonial common on these occasions. Antoinette made a great point of Christina's attendance, and Anne promised to do her best to gratify her aunt's wish in the matter.

Accordingly, the two Duchesses, accompanied by the Count and Countess of Vaudemont and several nobles, arrived at Joinville on Saturday, the 29th of June, to condole with the widow and attend the funeral rites that were protracted during the next three days. Never was there a more attached family than this of the Guises.

An imposing monument, adorned with rich marbles and bas-reliefs of the dead Prince's battles, was raised by Antoinette to her husband's memory in the church at Joinville. In the centre the Duke and Duchess were both represented clad in robes of state, kneeling with hands clasped together, and a long Latin epitaph relating the hero's great deeds was inscribed below, ending with the words:

V.

Charles V. had long cherished a wish to remove the bones of his ancestor Charles the Bold from the church of St. Georges at Nancy, where they had been buried after his defeat, and bring them to rest in his daughter Mary's tomb at Bruges. At first Christina hesitated to give her consent, fearing to arouse the resentment of her subjects, who were proud of possessing this trophy of King René's victory, but the urgent entreaties of her aunts at length induced her to yield, and, after ascertaining that neither Vaudemont nor the States of Lorraine had any objection to offer, she consented to her uncle's request, on condition that the removal of the remains should be effected as quietly as possible. Late in the evening of the 22nd of September, 1550, three imperial deputies, the Bishop of Cambray, the Chief Justice of Luxembourg, and the herald Toison d'Or, met the Provost and Canons of St. Georges in the crypt of the collegiate church. A solemn requiem was chanted, after which the tomb was opened and the bones, wrapt in a white linen shroud, were reverently laid in a wooden casket and committed to the charge of two friars. A gift of 100 gold crowns was made to the church in the Emperor's name, and the precious casket was placed on a chariot drawn by four black horses, escorted by a troop of twenty men-at-arms. The little procession travelled the same night to Metz, and thence across the frontier to Luxembourg. Bells were tolled in all the towns and villages on their way, and the De Profundis was chanted wherever a halt was made, until on the 24th the casket was safely deposited in the choir of the Cordeliers' church at Luxembourg. Here Charles of Burgundy's bones were placed in the grave of John of Luxembourg, the blind King of Bohemia, who fell at Crécy, until, nine years later, they were finally laid to rest by his daughter's side in the shrine of Our Lady at Bruges.[423]

When this pious act was safely accomplished, Christina set out with Anne of Lorraine and the Count and Countess of Vaudemont to join the imperial party at Augsburg. Charles, Philip, and Ferdinand, had been attending the Diet in this city since July, and were joined there by Mary of Hungary, who, however, was obliged to return to the Netherlands on the 26th of September, owing to troubles on the French frontier. Christina's presence was the more welcome. On the 30th of the same month Philip and his uncle Ferdinand were riding in the fields near Augsburg, when they noticed a cloud of dust on the highroad, and, galloping off in this direction, met the Duchess of Lorraine and her companions, with a large train of followers. Philip gallantly escorted his cousin to the Emperor's lodgings, where she spent the next three weeks. Her coming was the signal for a round of festivities. While Charles and Ferdinand rode together in earnest converse, or sat with closed doors debating public matters, Philip and a few chosen friends—the Prince of Piedmont, Duke Adolf, Pescara, and Ruy Gomez—spent the days with the Duchess and her ladies. Sometimes they went hunting on the Bavarian plains, sometimes they danced or played cards, and every evening they met at supper in Christina's rooms.[424]

On the 16th of October a joust was held in the court of the Fuggers' house, and the Emperor, with his niece and Duchess Anne, looked on from the windows. Egmont and Vaudemont were judges, and Count Lalaing and Floris de Montmorency won the prizes. The Cardinal of Trent entertained the company at supper, and left the next day for Genoa to receive Maximilian, the King of Bohemia, who had been sent for from Spain to take part in the family conference. Three days later Philip gave a tournament on a grander scale, in honour of the Duchess, and entered the lists clad in ruby velvet and white satin, as he figures in the portrait which Titian painted. This time Christina's presence seems to have inspired him with unwonted prowess. He broke many lances, and won a fine gold chain, which he presented to his cousin. She on her part entertained the King of the Romans and all the knights who rode in the jousts at a sumptuous banquet and ball, which ended in the Prince presenting rings to all the ladies and receiving a kiss from each in turn.

This festive evening marked the close of Christina's visit to Augsburg. The next morning she set out for Nancy, "leaving the Court sad and widowed," writes an Italian chronicler, "bereft of her presence, and without a lady to amuse the Princes or entertain the Emperor's guests." Philip escorted her for some miles on her journey, and took an affectionate farewell of his favourite cousin, whom he never saw again until he was the husband of Mary Tudor.[425]

Christina's route lay through the duchy of Würtemberg and along the valley of the Neckar. At Esslingen, the free imperial city on the banks of this river she met the new English Ambassador, Sir Richard Morosyne, on his way to Augsburg. In his train was a young secretary called Roger Ascham. He had been Lady Jane Grey's tutor, and had left his Greek studies and pleasant college life at Cambridge with some reluctance, but was keenly enjoying his first sight of foreign parts. The journey up the Rhine in a fair barge with goodly glass windows afforded him great pleasure. He gazed in admiration at the castles and abbeys perched on the crags, and the vines laden with purple grapes that grew in terraces along the banks, while the river at Spires—"broader a great deal than the Thames at Greenwich"—made him realize for the first time why the Greeks worshipped river-gods. In the Court chapel at Brussels he caught a glimpse of Queen Eleanor,

Then, as he rode through Tongres, he met the Queen of Hungary posting back from Augsburg, with only thirty courtiers in her train, "having outridden and wearied all the rest, and taken thirteen days to do a journey that men can scarce do in seventeen!" "She is a virago," the young Englishman remarked, "never so well as when she is flinging on horseback or hunting all day."[426] Now, at Esslingen, Ascham fell in with another noble lady, "the Duchess of Milan and Lorraine, daughter to the King of Denmark." Unlike Mary of Hungary, who posted so fast that no ladies could keep pace with her, Christina was always attended with a large retinue. Brantôme tells us that at Court she assumed a state which rivalled that of the Queen of France herself. On this journey she rode a white palfrey, and was followed by sixteen maids of honour on horseback and four chariots filled with ladies, escorted by a troop of 300 horse. Thirty-six mules and a dozen waggons, laden with chamber-stuff, brought up the rear, and a great crowd of "rascals belonging to her kitchen and stables came drabbling in the dirt on foot." Roger looked with admiration at the fine horses with their rich trappings, and was profoundly impressed by the tall stature and stately bearing of the Duchess. "I have never seen a lady of her port in all my life!" he exclaimed. His interest was heightened when he heard "that she should once have married King Henry VIII., before my Lady Anne of Cleves," and was told that she had now been with the Emperor at Augsburg, "where she was thought by some to have been a-wooing to the Prince of Spain."[427]

From Esslingen, Christina had intended to go to Heidelberg, on a visit to her sister, but the unsettled state of affairs made her presence necessary at home, and she hurried on to Nancy. The French were once more busy with preparations for war, and grew every day more insolent in their language. Even the Emperor's old ally, the Constable Montmorency, who had been recalled to Court by Henry II., joined the war party, and seemed to be as violent as the Guises. At the same time fresh trouble was brewing in Germany. The Interim had proved very unpopular. Magdeburg refused to accept the new edict, and Maurice of Saxony, who was sent against the city, carried on the siege in so half-hearted a manner that doubts of his loyalty were felt, while the Marquis Albert kept away from Court and sulked, like Achilles of old, in his tent. But the worst of all the Emperor's troubles were those which had arisen in his own family.

Granvelle confessed to Paget at Brussels that it had not been easy for Charles to obtain the recognition of his son as his successor in Flanders, and that he foresaw this would be a far harder matter in Germany. From the first, Philip's haughty manners and Spanish reserve were bitterly resented by the Princes of the Empire, and Charles realized with dismay how difficult it would be to obtain their consent to the adoption of his son as coadjutor of the King of the Romans, and his ultimate successor on the imperial throne. He had first of all to reckon with Ferdinand. This monarch had always been on the most affectionate terms with his brother, but was naturally indignant when rumours reached him, through the Marquis Albert's servants, that the Emperor intended to make Philip King of the Romans in his place. In vain his sister Mary assured him that this idea had never been entertained. His resentment was kindled, and he and King Maximilian were prepared to resist stoutly any infringement of their rights.[428]

Everyone noticed how grave and pensive Charles appeared when he entered Augsburg, and, although the prolonged family conferences which took place were conducted in strict secrecy, rumour was busy with conjecture, and the latest gossip from Augsburg was greedily devoured at the French Court. At this critical moment Chancellor Granvelle, who for twenty-five years had been Charles's most trusted Councillor, died after a few days' illness at Augsburg. Friends and foes alike expressed their grief in the warmest terms. The Constable wrote letters of condolence to his widow, and Charles and Ferdinand came in person to visit Madame Nicole, but found this excellent woman too much overcome with grief to be able to speak. It was an irreparable loss to the Emperor, and no one was better aware of this than himself. "My son," he wrote to Philip, "you and I have lost a good bed of down."[429] Granvelle's son, Antoine Perrenot, the Bishop of Arras, succeeded him as imperial Chancellor, but had neither his father's wisdom nor experience, and was little fitted to cope with the gravity of the situation.

Charles now sent for the Queen of Hungary, who hastened to Augsburg in September; but even she could effect little.

After Mary's departure, Charles's difficulties increased every day, and Christina tried in vain to pour oil on the troubled waters. She amused Philip, and did her best to console the Emperor in his fits of profound dejection. When she was gone he turned once more to Mary, and begged her earnestly to come to his help.

To this letter, which had been dictated to his secretary, Charles added the following postscript, written with his own gouty hand:

"Your loving brother,
"Charles."[431]

On receiving this letter, Mary started for Augsburg without a moment's delay. Attended only by the Bishop of Cambray and three ladies, the brave Queen rode all the way from Binche to Augsburg in twelve days, and arrived at five o'clock on the evening of New Year's Day, 1551.

All through November and December the Emperor hardly left his room. When he dined with the Knights of the Fleece on St. Andrew's Day, the hall was heated like a furnace, and Marillac, the French Ambassador, remarked that he looked so old and feeble he could not be long for this world.[432] But on the Feast of the Three Kings he dined in public, with his brother and sister, and his two nephews, Maximilian, who had arrived from Spain on the 10th of December, and the young Archduke Ferdinand. They were, to all appearances, a happy and united family, and Stroppiana noted an evident improvement in the Emperor's spirits. Roger Ascham watched these illustrious personages with keen interest. He describes how Charles and Ferdinand sat under the cloth of state and ate together very handsomely, "his Chapel singing wonderful cunningly all dinner-time." "The Emperor," he remarked, "hath a good face, constant air, and looked somewhat like the parson of Epurstone. He wore a black taffety gown, and furred nightcap on his head, and fed well of a capon—I have had a better from mine hostess Barnes many times." Ferdinand he describes as "a very homely man, gentle to be spoken to of any man," the Prince of Spain as "not in all so wise as his father." But King Max was Roger's favourite—"a Prince peerless" in his eyes. He is never tired of extolling this "worthy gentleman, learned, wise, liberal, gentle, loved and praised of all."[433]

During the next few weeks prolonged conferences were held in the Emperor's rooms. King Max from the first flatly refused to consent to Philip's appointment as coadjutor with the King of the Romans, and the quarrel waxed hot between them. Night and day Arras went secretly to and fro with letters between Charles and Ferdinand. If the Queen of Hungary was seen leaving the King of the Romans with flushed face and flashing eyes, it was a sure sign that things were going badly for the Emperor. If Ferdinand and his sons wore a joyous air, and there were tokens of affection between them and Mary, Stroppiana and Marillac were satisfied that all was going well.[434] As for Philip and Max, it was easy to see that there was no love lost between them. They met occasionally at night in Charles's rooms and exchanged formal greetings, but never paid each other visits or attended Mass and took meals together. The rivalry between the two Princes became every day more marked.

Nor was Philip more fortunate in his attempts to distinguish himself in the tilting. In the jousts held at Candlemas, Marillac reports that all jousted badly, but Philip worst of all, for he never broke a single lance; and Ascham remarks that the Prince of Spain "jousted genteelly, for he neither hurt himself, nor his horse and spear, nor him that he ran with." He redeemed his character to some extent, however, in a tournament given a week later in the Queen's honour, and succeeded in winning one prize; while the Prince of Orange and Archduke Ferdinand were the heroes of the day. "And as for noble Max, he ran not at all."[436]

A few days afterwards the Diet was prorogued, and Stroppiana told Marillac that owing to Mary's influence a secret agreement had been framed, by which Philip was to have a share in the administration of imperial affairs, and that, when he succeeded his uncle as Emperor, Maximilian should become King of the Romans. On the 10th of March an agreement to this effect was drawn up by the Bishop of Arras, and signed by all four Princes. On the same day Mary gave a farewell banquet, after which Ferdinand took an affectionate farewell of his brother, and went to Vienna with his sons.

On the 7th of April Mary left for Brussels, after giving an audience to Morosyne, who saw that "she was in the dumps," although she smiled two or three times and tried to hide her feelings.[438] By this time she had probably realized how fruitless all attempts to conciliate the German Princes would prove. The Electors unanimously declined to sanction the agreement which had been the cause of so many heart-burnings, and it remained a dead letter. The Archbishop of Treves declared that there could only be one Emperor in Germany and one sun in heaven. The Palatine, says Morosyne, like the wise old fox that he was, replied that so important a question needed time for consideration, and Joachim of Brandenburg vowed that he would never consent to a scheme which would be odious to all Germany.[439] Philip returned to Spain at the end of May, and the Emperor was reluctantly compelled to accept the inevitable, and surrender the long-cherished hope that his son would succeed to his vast empire.

VI.

While the eyes of all Europe were fixed on the imperial family at Augsburg, Christina waited anxiously for news in her palace at Nancy. She had sent two of her Italian secretaries, Innocenzo Gadio and Massimo del Pero, to wait on the Queen of Hungary, with strict orders to keep her informed of all that was happening. Gadio's cipher letters have unluckily disappeared, but some of those addressed to him by Niccolò Belloni have recently been discovered in a private library near Pavia.[440] Belloni belonged to a good Milanese family, and had, at his parents' entreaty, been retained by the Duchess in her service when she left Italy. He had succeeded Benedetto da Corte as master of her household, and followed Christina to Lorraine. Niccolò enjoyed his mistress's complete confidence, and his letters to Messer Innocenzo reveal all that was passing in her mind at this critical moment. On the 2nd of January, 1551, he writes: