MARIAGE À LA MODE.
1766-1767.
The court of Denmark over which Matilda was now the reigning Queen,
though not the ruling spirit, was the last place in the world for a
young and innocent girl to be sent alone. It was a hotbed of intrigue,
a stye of vile epicurism, where even decency was disregarded. Cunning
as foxes, and like foxes in their lust and greed, the majority of the
courtiers thought only of advancing their personal interests at the
expense of each other, or by vain and frivolous amusement to kill the
passing hour. All things that made for purity of life, nobility of
purpose, or singleness of heart, were mocked at and derided. Truth,
honour and virtue were by-words. During the later years of Frederick
V.'s reign the influence of the French court (at its worst) had not
been confined in Denmark to politics alone, but extended to manners and
morals as well. This influence became far more visible at the court
of Christian VII. than at that of his father. The society which the
young King collected around him within the walls of the Christiansborg
Palace did its best to copy Versailles, and it succeeded in aping the
vices, if not the superficial refinement, of the court of France.
At Christiansborg might be seen the same type of silly brainless
persons as those who flitted about the ante-chambers of Versailles,
who adopted the same frivolous tone, and the same loose morals. Their
avowed object was to avoid _ennui_, but in their pursuit of pleasure
they often caught boredom. The Danish courtiers, both men and women,
were artificial to the core. They painted their faces, powdered their
hair, and dressed extravagantly. They disguised every real sentiment,
and sought always to seem what they were not. They expressed nothing
but contempt for the language and customs of their native land. To be
Danish was _bourgeois_, to be virtuous even more so.
The cheap cynicism which mocks at marriage, and all its privileges and
duties, was much in vogue among the fashionable or "young party" at the
Danish court. Christian VII. had heard too much of these views from the
young rake-hells whom he chose for his companions not to be entirely
at one with them, and he looked on marriage as the greatest burden. He
had been extremely reluctant to take it upon himself and had only done
so at the strongest representations of his ministers. Reverdil declares
with a groan that to this epicene being "_une personne royale dans son
lit lui semblait d'ailleurs plutôt un objet de respect que d'amour_,"
and adds that the King would have certainly refused to perform his
connubial duties had it not been represented to him that the absence
of an heir to the throne would give rise to all manner of evil gossip
respecting himself.
The young King had consented to marry with an ill grace, and after
his marriage he lost no time in declaring to his boon companions that
he intended to be in every respect a husband _à la mode_. The first
sight of his consort's fresh and youthful beauty had seemed to awaken
in him some dormant sense of manliness, and he treated her at first
with a plausible imitation of lover-like ardour. He was flattered by
the warmth of her reception and the praises of her beauty, which he
interpreted as tributes to his own good taste. The ceremonies incident
on the wedding gratified his love of display, and the festivities that
followed delighted his pleasure-loving soul. He was like a child with
a new toy, but he wearied of it even more quickly than a child. If
his passion ever existed it was short-lived, for on the third day of
his marriage he said to one of his intimate friends that he strongly
advised him never to marry, as the unmarried state was far preferable.
This speech might have been credited to the affectation of a very
young husband who wished to pose as a cynic, but there was evidently
something more behind it, for neither of the young couple appeared to
be happy during the first days of their married life; Christian was
restless and discontented, Matilda pensive and melancholy.
The Queen's depression was natural. The excitement and novelty of her
journey and her enthusiastic welcome had buoyed her up at first, but
now these were over she felt the reaction. She was a stranger in a
strange land, separated from every one she had ever known, and she
suffered from homesickness. A closer acquaintance with her husband
obliterated the favourable first impression she had formed of him.
He was a disappointment. The flattering despatches which the English
envoys had sent to London (some of which we have quoted) credited
him with every physical and mental endowment, and portrayed him as
a paragon among princes. These encomiums, duly communicated to the
Princess-Dowager, had been dunned into Matilda's ears with such
persistency that she thought she was marrying a prince who was almost
a demi-god, and who gathered up into himself all the attributes of
the legendary heroes of Scandinavian romance. What then must have
been her disappointment when she found that her husband resembled a
French _petit maître_, rather than a son of the Vikings. To add to
her disillusion Christian made hardly any show of affection for his
wife, and after the first few days treated her with open indifference.
A week after their marriage the royal couple gave a banquet at the
Christiansborg Palace, and it was noticed by the company that already
the bloom had faded from the young Queen's cheeks, and she smiled with
evident effort. Her sadness increased from day to day, and she often
gazed at the ring her mother had given her, with its inscription, "May
it bring thee happiness," and sighed heavily. The King, who wished for
nothing but to be amused, was piqued by his consort's despondency, and
so far from making any attempt to comfort her, relieved his feelings
by satirical remarks. One day when one of his favourites called his
attention to the Queen's sadness, he said: "What does it matter? It is
not my fault. I believe she has the spleen." The King's indifference
to his Queen was quickly noticed by the courtiers, who took their cue
accordingly, and treated her as a person of little account. Ogier, the
French envoy at Copenhagen, reported to Paris three weeks after the
marriage: "The English Princess has produced hardly any impression on
the King's heart; but had she been even more amiable she would have
experienced the same fate, for how could she please a man who seriously
believes that it is not good form (_n'est pas du bon air_) for a
husband to love his wife?"
The French envoy was exultant that the marriage, on which England had
built such high hopes, should produce so little effect politically.
The Queen had no influence with the King, and he would be more likely
to oppose her wishes than to yield to them, if only for fear lest it
should be thought that he was governed by his wife. The poor little
Queen had no wish for political power, and was too much downcast by
her own personal disappointments to be of any use in a diplomatic
intrigue. But George III., and the English Government, who had no
knowledge of the real state of affairs, persisted in their project of
using the Queen for their own advantage; and Secretary Conway sent
minute instructions to Gunning as to the best way in which this could
be worked.
"In regard to your applying to the young Queen," he writes, "her
affection to his Majesty [George III.], and love for her native
country, cannot but incline her to preserve, as much as it can be in
her power to do, the mind of the King of Denmark, permanently fixed
upon the strictest union with his Majesty's, who has no one view in
his alliance inconsistent with the honour of the King of Denmark or
the welfare of his kingdom. Both Mr. Titley and you will doubtless
omit nothing that can mark your utmost attention and desire of serving
her Majesty. There might seem an impropriety in endeavouring to engage
her Majesty to interfere in business, especially in what has the air
of court intrigue, but so far as informing her Majesty fully of the
present state of the court, and apprising her who are the best friends
of her native country, and consequently most inclined to promote the
true honour and interests of their own, it will be your duty, and may
be an essential service to her Majesty, whose good sense will make the
properest use of the lights you furnish. The etiquette of the court of
Denmark (I find by your letter of September 2) allows an easier access
to family ministers than to others, and this privilege you will, I
imagine, have no difficulty to preserve.... You may also be assured
that the affection of his Majesty [George III.], and his care for the
welfare and happiness of his sister, so deservedly the object of his
love and esteem, cannot fail of having suggested every proper counsel
and information more immediately necessary for her guidance in the
delicate and important situation she is placed. Upon that foundation
you may properly build, and in such further lights as it may be fit for
you to give her Majesty, I think both the opportunities and the matter
of the information itself should rather flow naturally than be too
affectedly sought."[75]
[75] Sir H. S. Conway's despatch to Gunning, St. James's, October 24,
1766.
The English Government was soon disappointed of its hope of using
the Danish Queen as a pawn in the political game. Gunning, in bitter
disappointment, enlightened Conway as to the true state of affairs
a few weeks after the marriage. "All access to either the King or
Queen of Denmark," he wrote, "is rendered so difficult that without
being furnished with some pretext I can never expect to approach
either of their Majesties but in public. The preference given me there
has already occasioned some of the most unheard of and preposterous
complaints." [Here he refers to the protest of the Spanish minister
already mentioned.] "Monsieur Reventlow[76] has lately made me some
overtures to a better understanding; he speaks in raptures of the
Queen whenever I see him, and I believe will constitute as much as
depends upon him to promote her Majesty's happiness. This is of itself
a sufficient reason for my wishing to cultivate his good opinion, and
if possible to bring him over to our interests. [The French Minister]
encourages the carrying on intrigues against us; they (I need not tell
you, sir) increase every day, and particularly since the arrival of
her Majesty,--the principal people about her being our most inveterate
enemies."[77]
[76] Reventlow had been appointed the Queen's Chief Chamberlain.
[77] Gunning's despatch to Conway, Copenhagen, November 18, 1766.
One of the "inveterate enemies" was the austere and haughty Madame de
Plessen, who hedged the Queen round with iron etiquette, and permitted
none to enter her presence without her permission. Especially did she
throw difficulties in the way of the English envoy having frequent
access of her Majesty, on the ground that his visits would be sure
to cause jealousy and ill-will. The Queen, she urged, must overcome
her natural preferences, she must forget that she was a Princess of
Great Britain, and remember only that she was Queen of Denmark and
Norway. This was perhaps sound advice so far as it went, but Madame de
Plessen's object in giving it was not altogether disinterested. She,
like her former mistress, Queen Sophia Magdalena, was a sworn friend
of France, and probably in its pay. Madame de Plessen had a genius
for political intrigue, and her apartments in the palace formed a
_rendez-vous_ for the friends of France.
It is difficult to follow the cross-currents of politics at the Danish
court during the early years of the reign of Christian VII., but so
far as foreign affairs were concerned, the position may be briefly
summarised thus: The main object of England was to check France; the
main object of Sweden was to check Russia. Therefore, whatever was
disagreeable to France at Copenhagen was agreeable to England. Whatever
was disagreeable to Sweden was agreeable to Russia. Failing to see
her own influence in the ascendant at the Danish court, England would
prefer to see that of Russia. Bernstorff, the Prime Minister, was very
friendly to Russia, and not ill-disposed to England. Therefore, the
French envoy and Madame de Plessen intrigued against him. In domestic
politics also the Queen's chief lady was in opposition to Bernstorff,
and to her chambers flocked malcontents, including many of the staider
and more conservative among the Danish nobility, who shook their heads
over the misgovernment of the Prime Minister, and the follies and
extravagancies of the King and his friends.
The advent of the young Queen was made an excuse for the King to
gratify his passion for festivity and display. During the preceding
reign the court had led a comparatively quiet life, but the winter
following Christian VII.'s marriage was an unceasing round of gaiety.
Balls, banquets, concerts, masques, operas and plays, hunting parties,
sledge parties, circuses, and excursions to the different royal castles
around Copenhagen--there were a good many--succeeded one another in
quick succession. The King had a great love for the play, so he built
a court theatre at the Christiansborg Palace and decorated it without
regard to expense. A French company acted there, and the King and his
suite frequently took part in the performances. The King acted a part
in Voltaire's _Zaire_, and his performance was received with great
applause. He was so much impressed with his dramatic talents that he
twice repeated his performance in the larger theatre of Copenhagen, and
there the general public were permitted to attend. Acting, however, was
but a passing phase with the King, and he soon tired of it, though he
undoubtedly showed talent.
Madame de Plessen did all she could to prevent the Queen from taking
part in the court festivities, but Matilda, who was young, and fond of
pleasure, could not be prevailed upon to absent herself altogether,
more especially as by doing so she would incur the displeasure of the
King. But she never appeared unless attended by Madame de Plessen, and
turned to her always for guidance. It was Madame de Plessen who chose
the ladies to dance in the same quadrilles as the Queen, and she took
care that none, however beautiful or fashionable they might be, should
be admitted to this honour if there were the slightest blemish upon
their reputation. With men the same care was not necessary, for, as a
matter of etiquette, the Queen never danced with any but princes of
the blood, ambassadors, ministers of state, or others it was deemed
advisable to honour in an especial manner.
The introduction of masquerades was a still more startling innovation,
and gave great offence to the two Dowager-Queens. Sophia Magdalena
protested, but though her protests were supported by several of the
ministers, and the more prominent among the clergy, they were unheeded.
The King and his friends anticipated too many gallant adventures to
forego the opportunities which a masked ball offered, and they wished
to imitate at Copenhagen those masquerades held at the opera in Paris.
The first masked ball ever given in Denmark was held in December in
the Christiansborg Palace. All the ladies and gentlemen belonging to
the first three classes were admitted, besides all officers belonging
to both services. They were allowed to appear in any fancy dress they
chose, the only restriction being that they should not come "in the
likeness of an animal or any unseemly disguise". The King appeared
as a Sultan, and his immediate following were also in eastern dress.
The point was fiercely debated whether the Queen should appear at the
masquerades or not; the Dowager-Queens and Madame de Plessen being
wholly against it, and the King insisting upon it. Finally a compromise
was arrived at; Matilda showed herself to the company for a short
time, and then retired to her apartments to play chess with court
ladies chosen for her by Madame de Plessen, and the elderly wives of
ministers. It was as well that the Queen retired early, for the tone of
the masquerade became more and more free as the evening wore on, and
degenerated at last into riotous licence.
The expense of these entertainments was very heavy, and the people,
who were overburdened with taxes, began to murmur. There was great
distress in Copenhagen during the winter of 1766-67, and the contrast
between the want and misery in the poorer quarters of the city, and
the festivity and extravagance in the palace, was very striking. The
people, who loved the pomp and circumstance of royalty, might at
another time have overlooked this lavish expenditure, on the ground of
the youth and natural gaiety of the King. But sinister rumours were
afloat concerning him and his pleasures, and he had already by his
puerile amusements and dissipated conduct forfeited to a great extent
the public respect. Moreover, the Puritan party in Denmark was very
strong, and included the elder members of the royal family, and many
of the most influential personages in church and state. These regarded
many of the court festivities with disapproval, and the masquerades
with horror. The clergy especially were violent in their denunciations,
and did not hesitate to fan the flame of popular discontent. For
instance, a building, belonging, and adjacent to, the Christiansborg
Palace, in which there was a large wood store and brewery, caught fire
about this time, and was burned to the ground; the conflagration was
the biggest known in Copenhagen for years. Pastor Münter, a preacher
of great power, seized upon the incident to preach a sermon against
the sinful amusements of the court. He declared that the fire was a
sign from heaven to warn the King and his following to refrain from
their wicked ways, and if they did not profit by it they would be
utterly consumed with fire, if not here, then most certainly hereafter.
The sermon made a great sensation in Copenhagen, and the preacher was
reprimanded by the court, but he was regarded as an inspired prophet by
many austere Puritans.
The worst of all this controversy was that the innocent young Queen was
blamed unjustly. Rumours were spread abroad that Matilda was largely
responsible for these extravagancies; and in proof of the assertion
it was pointed out that the introduction of masquerades followed upon
the arrival of the English princess. It was said that these rumours
originated at the court of the Queen-Dowager. Juliana Maria had retired
to the Fredensborg with her son, the Hereditary Prince Frederick, where
she was surrounded by a little circle of malcontents. In due time these
untruths reached Matilda's ears and caused her great annoyance. The
young Queen's household, including Madame de Plessen, did everything
they could to contradict the reports, but with indifferent success. The
mischief was done, and it remained a fixed idea in the minds of many
people that the Queen was almost as devoted as the King to frivolous
amusements. Queen Matilda communicated her uneasiness to the English
envoy, who wrote home:--
"At a time when the Crown labours under the pressure of heavy debts,
and the revenue, from mismanagement, is so much lessened, people
naturally complain of the increase of expenses, and the introduction
of a number of entertainments, and amongst these, of masquerades. The
Queen is under the greatest uneasiness, lest this should be imputed to
her having any inclination for a diversion of this kind, from which,
on the contrary, the goodness of her heart, and the purity of her
sentiments, render her very averse. The sweetness of her disposition,
and the uncommon degree of prudence and discretion she is endowed with,
must ensure her a large share of happiness; but whatever my wishes
may be, I cannot flatter myself this will ever bear any proportion to
what her Majesty so justly deserves."[78] To which the Secretary of
State replied: "Your attention to her Danish Majesty is most justly
commendable, and certainly her Majesty's cautious conduct is most
amiable and respectable".[79]
[78] Gunning's despatch, Copenhagen, December 6, 1766.
[79] Conway's despatch, St. James's, December 29, 1766.
The festivities of the Danish court culminated in the coronation and
anointing of the King and Queen, which took place on May 1, 1767.[80]
The day dawned brilliantly fine, though the air was clear and cold.
At an early hour the bells of the Vor-Frue-Kirke (the Church of
Our Lady, the metropolitan church of Denmark) began to ring, and
bells chimed merrily from other towers. At eleven o'clock all the
gentlemen-in-waiting assembled in the King's ante-chamber, and all the
ladies-in-waiting in the Queen's. The King donned the anointing robes:
"A short jacket and breeches of gold brocade, pearl-coloured silk
stockings, white gloves embroidered with gold, and white shoes with red
heels; his buckles, garters and coat buttons were set with diamonds,
and his cloak of royal ermine was embroidered with golden flowers".
The King, thus arrayed, crowned himself with his own hands according
to the _Lex Regia_, which ordained that "since the Kings of Denmark do
not receive the crown from any hands but their own, the ceremony of
coronation shall be performed by themselves".
[80] The following description of the coronation is taken from official
documents preserved in the Royal Archives, Copenhagen.
With the crown on his head the King, accompanied by the Grand
Chamberlain, who carried the Queen's crown on a velvet cushion, went to
the Queen's room and crowned her with his own hands.
This ceremony over, the King took the sceptre in his right hand
and the orb in his left, and donned the collars of both the great
Danish orders, the Elephant and the Dannebrog. Then he passed into
his audience chamber, his train upborne by the Counts Reventlow and
Danneskjold-Samsöe. There he held a court, and received the homage of
the principal personages in the state.
The Queen, likewise attired in her anointing robes, to wit: "A robe of
cloth of gold, and a royal mantle of red velvet lined with ermine and
embroidered with gold crowns," and with the crown upon her head, passed
into her audience chamber, her train upborne by Madame de Plessen and
the Countess St. Germains. Here she held a court, and received the
homage of the assembled ladies.
[Illustration: THE CHRISTIANSBORG PALACE, COPENHAGEN.
_From an Old Print, temp. 1768._]
The procession to the chapel of the Christiansborg was then marshalled,
and as the bells rang out it passed down the marble stairs of the
palace and across the quadrangle to the chapel. The King walked under a
red velvet canopy, upborne by four privy councillors and four Knights
of the Elephant. The Queen walked beneath a similar canopy, upborne by
four privy councillors and four Knights of the Dannebrog.
The royal chapel was decorated with great splendour. Of this, as of
the other arrangements connected with the coronation, it was recorded:
"There was nothing lacking to make it beautiful. It was so splendid and
superb that even the foreign envoys were forced to admire the beauty
and lavish expenditure, to say nothing of the art in which these were
turned to account." The thrones of the King and Queen were placed upon
a dais, under a gorgeous canopy, upborne by two figures of angels with
drawn swords. On one side of the canopy was the King's motto, "_Gloria
ex amore patriae_," and on the other were the initials of the King
and Queen. The King's throne was of solid ivory, surmounted by a huge
amethyst nearly as large as a hen's egg. The Queen's throne was of
silver, elaborately wrought, and polished until it shone like crystal.
At the foot of the thrones lay three life-size lions in cast silver.
At the entrance to the royal chapel the King and Queen were received
by the three Bishops, who were to officiate at the ceremony of the
anointing, vested in copes of gold brocade. The Bishops first
conducted the King to his throne while the choir sang an anthem. They
then returned and led the Queen to her throne in like manner. Bishop
Harboe of Zealand preached a sermon, and then the ceremony of anointing
took place; the coronation was considered as already performed. First
the King was anointed with the holy oil, and then the Queen. The
service concluded with a _Te Deum_.
As the royal procession returned to the palace, a salute from the
ramparts was fired, and the heralds on the gate blew a loud blast on
their silver trumpets. The King and Queen received the congratulations
of their court, and then the coronation banquet took place. During
the banquet a chorale was sung by the choir, of which a verse may be
roughly translated as follows:--
And long shall it be before the sons of the North weep,
For while Christian lives, and Matilda,
There shall be nothing but joy,
And every man shall dwell in his tent in peace.
The coronation was a people's holiday, and ample provision was made for
every class to partake in the festivities. When the banquet was over
the King and Queen passed on to the balcony of the palace to look down
upon the general rejoicings. A free dinner was given to the populace,
and wine ran like water from a fountain, "red wine on the right side
and on the left white, five hogsheads of each, of which all drank who
would". In the courtyard an ox had been roasted whole, and not an ox
only, for it was stuffed with "three wethers, five lambs, eight pigs,
ten geese, twenty brace of duck, and fifty-eight brace of old (_sic_)
hens". The roasted ox reposed upon a carriage painted red, and its
horns were gilt.
"The moment their Majesties appeared on the balcony," continues the
chronicle, "the fountain of wine was set running, and the ox was
wheeled forward, pulled by eighteen sailors in white breeches and
jackets, with sashes of red, and wreaths upon their heads. On either
side of the ox-carriage more sailors walked, similarly attired, and
carried baskets of bread. The Quarter-master-Sergeant then ascended the
ox-carriage and cried in a loud voice: 'The roast ox will now be given
away!' and he threw to the crowd a number of silver pieces. With shouts
of delight the people rushed forward and scrambled for money, food
and wine. The feasting and revelry that followed occupied a countless
number of the poor all that evening and the greater part of the night,
so delighted were they. Their Majesties took great pleasure in watching
the tumult from the balcony of the Christiansborg."