“Women should never be rulers… Being a woman is a vice, the biggest vice of all.” It is rather tragicomic that this is a statement made by one of the most famous women of 17th century Europe, who was, on top of all that, the ruler of a small but not entirely insignificant country. Queen Christina of Sweden was no ordinary monarch. In fact, she was not even an ordinary woman. She dressed in men’s clothes and did things that were inaccessible to the fairer sex in those days. She spoke several languages, corresponded with Descartes and was quite possibly the most educated woman in Europe. She was an excellent horsewoman and loved hunting. Moreover, the testimonies of her contemporaries reveal that she could curse like the worst brigand. Kristina may have been born at the wrong time and probably in the wrong body.
All her life, she longed to be seen as a wise and glorious queen, but she was not very good at the demanding tasks of kingship. She felt most at home in the company of artists and intellectuals, with whom she could discuss the mysterious nature of love, the immortality of the soul and other eternal questions. Before she turned 30, she declared that she would never marry, thus jeopardising the future of the Swedish monarchy. Soon afterwards, she abdicated the throne, secretly converted to the Catholic faith and moved to Rome. This was unheard of in Protestant Sweden, and Christina became Europe’s most famous convert. Her unorthodox lifestyle continues to raise dust to this day.
The (un)expected baby
Kristina caused a stir at birth. Her parents had been married for six years, but God had not yet ordained a child for them, which was a big problem for the Swedish monarchy. Her mother, Queen Maria Eleonora of Brandenburg, had previously given birth to a stillborn child, and another daughter died before she was one year old.
Before Christina’s birth, the court astrologers predicted that the Queen would definitely give birth to a son this time, but the stars were also telling them something ominous. The child would die, they said, and if he survived, the mother would surely die, and perhaps even the father, King Gustav Adolf, the greatest Swedish ruler in history. But if the child survives the birth, it will live a glorious life. The predictions reassured Queen Marie Eleonora. At last she will be able to give her husband a son and save the monarchy.
Astrologers must have studied the constellation of the planets rather superficially, because on 18 December 1626, Christina was born. At first, doctors thought it was a boy, because the baby was hairy all over and cried in an unusually deep voice. When they realised their mistake, it was several hours before they dared to go before the ruler and tell him the bad news.
Gustav Adolf did not look unhappy, he kissed the child and said, “I am satisfied. My daughter will be clever, because she has outsmarted us all.” This is how Christina remembered her birth, but in reality the King was anything but pleased. He would certainly have been happier with a male offspring, but God had other plans. Nevertheless, he loved his daughter, and Kristina also admired and respected him throughout her life.
Maria Eleonora was already in fragile health, but the birth of an unwanted daughter depressed her even more. The absence of her husband, who spent most of his time on the battlefields across Europe, also took its toll on her. Lonely and out of touch with reality, she slowly began to sink into madness.
For years, Gustav Adolf had been trying to elevate the marginal Scandinavian kingdom into a European power. He and his army took part in the conflict between Protestant and Catholic Europe that engulfed the old continent in the first half of the 17th century and is now known as the Thirty Years’ War. Protestant Sweden, under the leadership of Gustavus Adolphus, enjoyed many successes in the war against the Catholic Habsburgs, and eventually the fate of Europe was partly decided in Stockholm.
Tousled curls and a clear mind
Before he set off on another of his war marches, Gustav Adolf seemed to have a hunch that he would not be back. He made sure that the Riksdag, the Swedish Parliament, officially recognised Kristina as his legitimate successor. Shortly afterwards, he died somewhere in Saxony, as a great military leader should – on the battlefield. When his body was brought to Sweden, the then-fainting Maria Eleonora refused to allow him to be buried for almost two years. She watched over the decomposing body of her beloved husband for days and nights before the coffin was lowered into the ground.
Kristina became Queen at the age of six. In fact, her official title was “King”, as the laws of the Swedish monarchy did not provide for a woman to lead the country, but Kristina was nevertheless addressed as “Queen”. However, until she came of age, the country was in fact governed by a council of wise men, made up of some of Sweden’s most influential noblemen.
According to the instructions left by the fallen king, Kristina was to receive the best, one could say the most masculine, education. Gustav Adolf had counted on his daughter marrying sooner or later, and her husband might then take over the running of the country, but in any case it would be good for the future Queen to learn the craft of governing and to acquaint herself with the achievements of European civilisation.
So Kristina studied history and philosophy and listened to lectures on how state administration and diplomacy work. Fluent in French and Latin from an early age, she later learned Italian and other European languages and, with some limited success, also took up Greek, Arabic and Hebrew. She spent more than ten hours a day among books and manuscripts and really enjoyed learning.
When she wasn’t reading and discussing philosophy or art, she spent her time in nature. She loved animals, especially horses, and as a child she was an exceptional horsewoman. She was also no stranger to handling weapons and, as a French diplomat wrote, ‘she could shoot a fleeing rabbit faster than any man’. Her behaviour and appearance also disrupted the notions of the fairer sex. She inherited her father’s blue eyes and eagle nose, but unlike him she was not tall and elegant.
Her mother, Maria Eleonora, was considered an extraordinary beauty and the epitome of femininity, but she and Kristina could not have been more different. There was no warmth or love in their relationship either, on the contrary – Kristina felt unwanted simply because she was a woman and, according to her mother, ugly. Perhaps that is why the young Queen never fully developed her feminine side. Her behaviour did not exactly give the impression of a lady who had been brought up at court. In addition to her dishevelled, greasy curls, this was certainly due to her occasionally bawdy tongue, which had become sharper over the years.
North Athens
Over the years, Kristina also became more and more involved in the running of the country, but it was clear to the Council of Wise Men that she was not cut out to be a ruler. She herself showed no particular interest in the affairs of state. One could say that she preferred command to rule. For her, the crown was a birthright, an inalienable right that required no involvement and entailed no obligations. She saw politics as an art of intrigue and took great pleasure in successfully outwitting someone she considered an opponent.
Meanwhile, in Europe, the Thirty Years’ War was drawing to a close and Sweden was on the winning side at the Peace of Westphalia in 1648, marking the end of the conflict. But not thanks to Christina. Sweden’s army and diplomacy were led by Chancellor Axel Oxenstierna, a wily politician and leader of the Council of Wise Men, who helped the Queen to rule.
Although Kristina found it difficult to digest his successes, the end of the war brought her much joy. While the peace negotiations were still under way, the Swedish army sacked Prague and confiscated the famous art collection of Rudolf II, the former Habsburg ruler and a great lover of art. Over the years, more than 500 paintings, hundreds of artefacts from all over the world, Rudolf’s extensive library and – the African lion – arrived in Stockholm.
The spoils of war added some prestige to provincial Stockholm. Visitors to the Swedish court could admire Caravaggio, Dürer and other masters – a privilege previously enjoyed only in old, Catholic Europe. For a few years, Sweden’s capital was transformed into the vibrant cultural centre of Europe’s north. Christina attracted the best French linguists and historians, Dutch doctors, famous Italian composers and many other European scholars to her court. Her love of the arts and sciences meant that the Swedish treasury suffered greatly in those years, as visits by the great minds of Europe did not come cheap, but the Queen did not let this worry her. Throughout her life, Kristina was a great lover and supporter of the arts.
Rene Descartes, the famous French philosopher with whom Kristina had corresponded for several months before, was also a guest at the Swedish court. In their letters, they exchanged views on the existence of free will, the elusive nature of love and similar topics. As Descartes initially refused to visit Stockholm, Christine sent one of her admirals with a group of soldiers to the Netherlands, where he was living at the time. At the sight of the tall, tall northerners, the famous philosopher softened and humbly agreed to go.
Descartes, used to milder latitudes, soon fell ill and died in Stockholm. The death of one of the greatest minds of European civilisation has been blamed by some historians on the whims of the Queen. Their meetings were held in an unheated and damp room. On top of everything else, Christine’s busy schedule meant that Descartes had to get up at 4am. Kristina was often late or did not attend meetings at all, so the unfortunate philosopher spent hours in the cold waiting for his lonely pupil.
Evil languages and national interests
The unorthodox queen, who behaves like a man and befriends philosophers, has also caused grey hairs for her compatriots. In addition to depleting the already lean state coffers, she caused a major scandal by declaring that she had no intention of marrying. This was, of course, unheard of in the 17th century. For years, she was persuaded by court advisers and Parliament to find a consort, have a child and, after all, provide the Swedish Crown with a legitimate heir. She had no shortage of suitors, but Kristina refused them all. “My personality is simply not compatible with marriage,” she later wrote in her memoirs.
The Queen’s unusual attitude towards marriage soon led to rumours about her sexual orientation. Evil tongues suggested that she was in love with Ebba Sparre, one of her ladies-in-waiting. The truth is that Kristina did nothing to silence such rumours, on the contrary – among other things, she even declared in front of the English ambassador that “Ebba is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside”.
Kristina had an unconventional view of both sexuality and established gender roles, so it is difficult to clearly define her feelings for the beautiful Ebba. In any case, her behaviour was met with disgust among her contemporaries, but also with occasional admiration.
Her aversion to marriage shook the fabric of the centuries-old Swedish monarchy. If the Queen were to die one day, the absence of a legitimate heir could lead to chaos and even civil war. To calm passions, Kristina proposed to Parliament that the heir-apparent should be Karl Gustaf, her maternal cousin, who was of German descent but also a brave and capable man. After all, he had once been one of the candidates for her hand in marriage.
Parliament accepted her petition, as the prevailing opinion was that Kristina would sooner or later come to her senses and eventually marry her cousin. The Queen was extremely happy with the arrangement, as she would be able to occupy the throne until death without having to marry and have children. These unpleasant matters would be dealt with by the future wife of Carl Gustaf.
Fireworks at Court
By the time she was 23, Christina was already serving as Queen, but she was never officially enthroned because of the endless military campaigns in the Thirty Years’ War, in which Sweden was involved. War and coronation do not go together. Two years after the Peace of Westphalia, Sweden was finally ready for the big celebration. On 20 October 1650, the coronation of Queen Christina of Sweden took place.
The coach, throne and chasuble were specially made for the occasion in France – no one cared about the cost. The coronation was accompanied by lavish fireworks and wine fountains. In the Queen’s procession through the streets of the capital, deer and even camels could be seen bearing the Swedish autumn weather with dignity. The celebrations, the like of which Scandinavia has never seen before, lasted for weeks. Kristina, who enjoyed the picturesque procession, finally and officially wore the Swedish crown.
At the time, it seemed to everyone that Sweden was facing a peaceful period. The Queen, who had been holding off on her wedding, had finally officially ascended the throne. The lavish coronation was supposed to reflect the prestige and power of the Swedish court, but soon, with a single gesture, Kristina had created a new scandal. She announced to Parliament that she intended to abdicate the throne and that it would be better if the country was led by a man – her cousin Karl Gustaf, whom she had imposed as her successor some time ago.
Parliamentarians were rightly appalled. Not even a year had passed since the lavish coronation, and a new crisis was looming. Every effort was made to dissuade her from taking such a step and tensions lasted for years. But Christina did not give in and she had the last word, because after all, she was still – the Queen.
On 6 June 1654, she put away the Swedish crown for good and left the country overnight. No one at the Swedish court knew where she was going or what her plans were. If they had known what she was up to, they would certainly not have let her go so easily.
All roads lead to the Vatican
Christine’s decision to abdicate was a well-considered one, and had been growing in her for a long time. The former Queen left the Swedish throne because she also intended to leave her homeland and even her own religion. The European scholars she lured to the court brought much life into her life, but with their departure, her joy dried up. Kristina was unhappy, fed up with the long winters and the provinciality of Scandinavia.
Governance has also taken its toll. She had to make too many compromises, felt too much pressure not to marry and have children. She knew that the pressure would not stop as long as she wore the crown on her head. She had always been determined never to have children. “I can’t bear the idea of a man behaving towards me the way a farmer behaves towards his land,” she put it vividly.
Linking her misfortune to the environment in which she grew up and lived, she found solace in another, distant world. For years she flirted with Catholicism and gradually fell in love with this “beautiful religion”, which knew celibacy and had given so much beauty to the world. While she was still Queen, she met secretly with French and Italian Jesuits who introduced her to Catholic doctrine.
No one at court knew that the Queen had succumbed to the songs of the sirens coming from Rome, the centre of the evil that Christine’s father and all of Protestant Sweden had once fought against. This would have been an unprecedented scandal, a betrayal of the homeland and a grave disgrace for the Swedish court. Kristina was extremely careful and discreet in her conversion, and everything happened in secret. She knew exactly what she was doing – she was going where all roads lead.
When the Jesuits announced in Rome that the Queen of Sweden was going to join their camp, the Vatican corridors were filled with rejoicing. At a time when tensions between Protestant and Catholic Europe were still heated, any conversion of any significance carried a lot of weight. But the Pope had a huge political gift in his lap, because Christina was not just anybody. She was a former queen of a country that had emerged victorious from the Thirty Years’ War, and the daughter of Gustavus Adolphus, one of Protestantism’s greatest heroes. The Vatican grabbed the opportunity with both hands and, as well as an invitation to Rome, Christina was given an enthusiastic and very influential patron.
A spiritual journey
“Free at last!” Kristina reportedly said as she crossed the Swedish-Danish border. She threw away her women’s clothes and cut her hair to her chin, as was the fashion for men at the time. From then on, she was always dressed in a masculine way, wearing trousers, boots and often a sword hanging from her belt – this symbolic transformation marked the beginning of her new life. Legend has it that Karl Gustav, her successor on the Swedish throne and her unmarried husband, sent her a letter asking for her hand one last time. It was too late, and all Christina could think of was Rome, the most beautiful city in the world.
But St Peter’s Basilica was still a long way off and Christina had her big moment, her conversion to Catholicism, on Christmas Eve 1654 in Brussels. Only five people took part in the modest and secret ceremony, including the Governor of the Spanish Netherlands, Archduke Leopold I of Habsburg, her host.
But Brussels was not Rome and Kristina imagined that the transition to the “wonderful religion” would be much more solemn, but she had to endure. Her prayers were answered only a year later. Pope Alexander VII gave Europe’s most famous convert a reception that lived up to her expectations.
The arrival of Christina in the Eternal City was a glorious event, a way for the Pope to show Protestant Europe that the Catholic Church is stronger than ever. Christine’s procession through the streets was followed by thousands of people who wanted to see the famous convert for themselves. Cardinals, nobles and all those who counted in Rome were waiting for her. The Pope had the Porta del Popolo, the famous northern gate of the city, specially renovated in her honour. Gian Lorenza Bernini, the most important architect and sculptor of the time, with whom Christina immediately became friends, also designed a magnificent carriage for the Queen, which she took to St Peter’s Basilica.
Christina was the Pope’s personal guest, and he gave her eight of the Vatican’s vast and ornate rooms as a great mark of respect. Women were not allowed to spend the night behind the Vatican walls. During those few days in Rome, Christina was subject to special rules. On Christmas Eve 1655, she received her confirmation from the Pope in St Peter’s Basilica, symbolically concluding her spiritual journey.
Love in Rome
Life in Rome was just as Kristina had imagined it – lively, glamorous and fun. Soon she moved into the Palazzo Farnese, one of the most beautiful Renaissance villas in the city, which the great Michelangelo had helped to design a hundred years earlier. Her new home soon became a meeting place for artists and the educated. Rome was teeming with poets, dancers and musicians in perpetual search of engagement, and many of them found refuge in the Queen’s new court. Every Wednesday, in a villa overlooking the Tiber, they read poetry, listened to opera and debated eternal questions.
Palazzo Farnese was also regularly visited by cardinals, whom Christina affectionately but diplomatically referred to as “cousins”. She enjoyed their company immensely, as they were all very learned and wise men and interesting conversationalists. Among them was Decio Azzolino, Pope Alexander VII’s personal representative in charge of relations with the former Queen of Sweden. He was an ambitious and capable cardinal, but he was also considered to be a man “who indulges in love affairs of no great decency and has other faults”, as one of his contemporaries put it.
Azzolino had a high-profile job as a young man – he was the Vatican’s chief cryptographer, in charge of decrypting foreign correspondence. Having excelled during his service in Cifra, as the cryptography department was called, he became a cardinal before the age of 30, thus reaching the penultimate step in the hierarchy of the Holy See.
As the Pope’s personal representative, he spent many afternoons at Christina’s villa. They often discussed ancient literature and began to correspond regularly. He wrote to her in Italian and she wrote back in her still more familiar French. When the Cardinal got her interested in cryptography, they also corresponded in ciphers. It was not until the 19th century that their correspondence was deciphered.
Azzolino was just a few years older than her, charismatic and full of life. Despite his alleged flaws and questionable moral stance, Christina fell in love with him. She began to comb her hair and wear low-cut dresses – as if the Cardinal had awakened her dormant femininity. Azzolino, too, succumbed to the Queen’s strange energy, which shook his sacred vows.
The love between the Cardinal and the Queen could not have been an ordinary love and, despite the many rumours suggesting that their relationship was indecent, it could be said to have been primarily a romantic friendship between two people who, because of their social status, should never have become close.
Throne in the clouds
While in Rome, Kristina spent most of her time organising and attending all kinds of social events, but she also kept up to date with political developments both at home and abroad. Her “cousins”, the cardinals, were the primary source of information coming from behind the Vatican walls. As a former Queen, she was also well informed about what was happening in all European courts. Among other things, she had been secretly corresponding with one of the most influential men in Europe, Jules Mazarin, a French cardinal of Italian roots, since 1656.
Mazarin succeeded Cardinal Richelieu, another famous cardinal whose political talents elevated France to the status of a European power. Officially, he served as First Minister at the French Court, but in reality he had the final say in the running of the country. The future Sun King, Louis XIV, was still a minor at the time, and the wily Cardinal held virtually absolute power in his hands. Given the geopolitical circumstances of the time, Christina and Mazarin found that they could help each other. France was fighting for supremacy in the Mediterranean with Spain, which ruled southern Italy and Sardinia. The Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, as this political formation was called, bordering the Papal States to the north, was a thorn in the side of French interests. Manzarin made several attempts to seize Naples, the capital of the Kingdom, but never succeeded.
He came up with a plan in which Christina would play a key role: the French army would occupy Naples on her behalf and Christina would become ruler of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. She would not even have to marry, as Philip I, brother of the Sun King, would inherit the crown after her death. She would have been a kind of temporary queen, but she would have had subjects, a country, a throne and all that goes with it.
The proof that Christina must have regretted her former decision to abdicate was her immense enthusiasm for the Cardinal’s plan. She was aware that she would never be the brightest star in the Roman sky, because that role belongs to the Pope. But in Naples, as in Sweden, she would be the first and only ruler. Moreover, she was in great financial straits, having lived for some years almost exclusively on the fame and loans of her powerful friends. The thought of putting on a real crown again made her feel important.
The noblest of all passions
The route to Naples was via Paris, as Kristina wanted to meet Mazarin as soon as possible. All the preparations were made in the strictest secrecy, and Kristina did not even mention a word about her French mission to her love, Cardinal Azzolino. With the excuse that she was going to Sweden to settle some financial matters, she set off for Paris in the summer of 1656 without a murmur. The trip was financed by the French court, and the Pope also chipped in some money, as Christina was still the most famous Catholic convert and walking advertisement of the Holy See.
Everywhere she was received with the highest possible honours, as befits a former and future Queen. She was no less enthusiastic about Paris than she was about Rome. The glamour and elegance of the French capital captivated her as much as the historical grandeur of the Eternal City and its cultural life.
Kristina’s behaviour was as upsetting as ever. During a procession in Paris, she jumped out of a carriage and got into a conversation with the locals, an outrageous transgression against the established social order for a member of the nobility, let alone a queen. She ran after children in the street, looked at vegetables in the market, wandered into a patisserie and watched a cake being baked with unfeigned interest. The strange Queen of the North was the talk of Paris for a long time. But the astonished and reproachful glances of her hosts did not bother Kristina, who had only one thing on her mind – her new crown.
In September 1656, Cardinal Mazarin finally invited her to Compiegne, the royal residence, where she was met by an honoured troop, 200 horsemen, nobles from all over the country and half the French court. She also met for the first time the young Louis XIV, the Queen Mother Anne of Austria and her political patron, Cardinal Mazarin.
The French Cardinal of Italian origin made a great impression on her because “he was driven by one passion, the noblest of all passions – ambition”. They agreed that it would be best for her to return to Rome and await his instructions. The King also reportedly assured her that she would soon become the new ruler of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.
Christina, who left mixed feelings at the French court, went back to Rome, but had to wait a little longer. The plague was rampant in the Eternal City and the future Queen got no further than Pesaro, a town on the Adriatic Sea in what is now the Italian province of Marche. There she spent seven long and boring months. Boredom soon turned to discomfort as Cardinal Mazarin did not answer her letters. When rumours began to circulate that France was about to conclude a peace treaty with Spain, anger set in. “I beg you to deny the news that speaks of peace in the world. I love the storm and I fear peace,” she wrote to Mazarin.
Fateful Fontainebleau
The Cardinal did not answer her letters and Kristina grew increasingly desperate. Her visions of Naples, the crown and a new life were in reality only a mirage. The cunning Mazarin had seduced the former queen. As a cunning political strategist, he was always a step or two ahead of her. He had calculated that, given the circumstances, it was more profitable for him to make peace with the Spaniards – forgetting, without remorse, the promise he had made to the naïve Queen.
Kristina has overestimated her political weight and negotiating skills. Although she liked to believe that she could outwit any opponent, Cardinal Mazarin was too much for her. Richelieu would surely have been proud of his pupil and successor, for thanks to Mazarin, France soon became the leading power in Europe, despite Christine’s wishes.
But the unconfirmed Queen refused to give up her dream of the throne and returned to France in October 1657, requesting to be received by the Cardinal. While waiting for an official invitation, her French hosts put her up at the Château de Fontainebleau, not far from Paris. She never received an invitation, but during the months she spent in France, she created the biggest scandal of her already controversial life.
She had long suspected that her servant, the Marquis Mondaleschi, was scheming behind her back and smearing her name. In addition, an Italian nobleman was said to have leaked to the Pope a plan for a military attack on Naples. The furious Queen therefore had the alleged traitor executed in November 1657. On her instructions, he was murdered in Fontainebleau, discreetly and without any investigation or trial. Even if Mondaleschi was indeed a traitor, that was no longer relevant at the time. Cardinal Manzarin had been in charge of the game all along, and Christina’s plan had long ceased to be a secret. Christina may have wanted to prove to both Manzarin and the Pope that she had not yet said the last word.
But her action has had the opposite effect. The murder of an Italian nobleman on French soil, at the behest of a Queen without a crown or a country, reverberated throughout Europe. She was diplomatically told by the French court that she was no longer welcome, but she remained in France until she was shown the door, this time much less diplomatically.
“I cannot believe that the King of France thinks he has power over me. It is not in accordance with my birthright and position. I believe that I am equal to all the rulers in the world and I recognise no higher authority than God,” the Queen responded haughtily.
Her return to Rome was anything but glorious this time. “The Queen is nothing but a barbarian who was brought up barbarically and lives barbarically”, the Pope was unsparing towards his former favourite. With her infamous murder in Fontainebleau, Christine finally closed the door to high politics and squandered all the prestige she had gained over the years.
Golden Years
One of the few people who stood by her even in difficult times was Cardinal Decio Azzolino, an old friend. On her return to Rome, she moved into the Palazzo Riario, a villa in the Trastevere district of Rome, and lived there until her death. In the meantime, she felt the urge to become politically active in her former homeland on two occasions. The first time was in 1660, when Carl Gustaf, her unmarried husband and heir to the Swedish throne, died, and the second time was in 1667, when the Riksdag, the Swedish Parliament, was deciding whether the Scandinavian monarchy should remain neutral in the Anglo-Danish War.
As usual, she was driven by unrealistic imperial ambitions and the usual financial hardship, but as a Catholic convert and someone who had abdicated the throne years earlier, she was understandably no longer welcome in Sweden. Her former compatriots never allowed her to visit her hometown.
After all, her home was in Rome. The Palazzo Riario may not have been as luxurious and famous as the Palazzo Farnese, but Kristina furnished it in her own style. On the second floor, for example, there was a rich library with more than 2000 manuscripts in all the world’s languages. On the walls hung paintings by the greatest European masters, which Kristina had brought back from Stockholm and Prague respectively. It was probably one of the largest collections of paintings in Rome that was open to the public. As always, Kristina welcomed selected guests and organised various cultural events in her villa. Many musicians and artists found refuge in her court.
When she returned from her second trip to Sweden in 1668, the political climate in the city had also turned in her favour. The new Pope Clement IX sent her a thousand roses on her arrival, and he paid tribute to her several times during his short pontificate. Cardinal Azzolino even came to the Secretariat of State, one of the Vatican’s most important offices. For Christina and Azzolino, in short, life in Rome was not bad. They spent their mornings in the orchard in front of the Queen’s villa, discussing ancient literature. Although they lived in Rome and socialised almost daily, they often corresponded – in French, Italian and cipher.
Christina died on 19 April 1689, aged 62. She was one of the few women buried in the Vatican Caves. Her friend, Cardinal Decio Azzolino, to whom she left all her possessions and debts, died only a few months later.
